From: Scullysfan@aol.com
Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1999 14:49:40 EDT
Subject: NEW: Escape Me Never 1/6  by Missy Pennington


I did not write this.  Please send all feedback to Missy Pennington at 
JoseeChung@aol.com


Title:  Escape Me Never
Author:  Missy Pennington
Rating:  NC-17
Summary:  Withheld at author's request
Archive:  Gossamer yes, others please ask 
Keywords:  S, MSR
Spoilers:  None

Disclaimer:  Mulder, Scully and the X-Files do not 
belong to me.  They are the property of Chris Carter, 
FOX, and 1013, and are used without permission.  I 
mean no infringement.

(The working title of this story was "Pressure Points."  
So for those who wrote to inquire about my progress, 
rest assured, this IS the same story.)

Note:  "Escape Me Never" is the conclusion of a story 
that started in "Tempest" and continued in "Distance" 
and "Wild Places."  Like those stories, this one can 
stand on its own, but it works better if you read the 
others first.  They can be found on my website 
(http://members.aol.com/mjpmissy/missy.html)



Escape Me Never
by Missy Pennington

"Escape me?  Never, Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you,
So long as the world contains us both."
                      -- Robert Browning


8:47 p.m.
Georgetown
Remo's Gym (after hours)

The victim was unaware.

She stood casually in the center of the dimly lit room, 
the fingers of her left hand lightly massaging her 
forehead as if to relieve the tension of a stressful day 
of work.  She was small and looked even smaller in 
casual clothing.  The grey sweatshirt she had donned 
hung loosely from her shoulders, obscuring the curves 
of her body from his eyes, but not from his memory.  
He knew what enticements were underneath.  How 
many hours had he spent studying her while she was 
blissfully unaware of his scrutiny?  How many days?  
He couldn't count them all.  

She had never caught him, and she wouldn't this time; 
he was always careful when he watched her.  He had 
to be.

Centimeter by centimeter, he pushed the door into 
place behind him, controlling its movement with little 
more than his own extreme patience, aware that even 
the tiniest squeak of a hinge could give him away.  
The sound of a latch falling into place, a lock 
turning...those were careless mistakes.  Those were 
mistakes made by amateurs.

He was a professional.  

He locked the door without a sound, and began his 
silent move to the back of the room, his eyes never 
leaving the auburn-haired beauty who stood less than 
twenty feet from him.  He kept to the wall, his shadow 
blending seamlessly with the myriad of shapes 
already indistinguishable on the light wood floor.  The 
dim lighting helped; she couldn't have provided him 
with a better setting.

Stealthy movements went undetected as he 
approached her from behind, his gaze sweeping over 
her, lingering on the curve of her neck.  With her short 
red hair swept up, pinned haphazardly, she afforded 
him an unencumbered view of her slender throat. So 
thin, so delicate, presented like an offering.  Daring 
him almost to reach his fingers toward her. 

But he didn't; she was stronger than she looked.  

Powerful.

Determined.  

He admired that about her.  

The hardwood beneath him gave way to slight 
resistance, and the floorboard groaned loudly, its 
sound magnified by the emptiness of the room and the 
utter stillness that preceded it.  He froze, heart 
pounding.

Stupid mistake.

Careless.

Now she would look.  She would turn to scan the 
darkness, her body tense and alert.  He would lose 
the element of surprise he'd worked so hard to 
maintain.  His carefully made plans would crumble 
because of an amateurish blunder.

But maybe...

Maybe if he was still...  Maybe if he could be utterly 
silent a while longer among the shadows....

The Target turned toward him, her eyes searching the 
phantom jungle of darkness that held him safely 
within.  She was wary; he could see it plainly in her 
eyes and in the thoughtful furrow of her brow as she 
scanned the room, nervous energy radiating from her 
every movement.  But she didn't see him, standing 
almost close enough to touch.  She looked through 
the blackness without recognition, oblivious to the 
hammering of his blood through his veins.  There was 
no fear on her face.  Only caution.

She stood facing him for a long moment, effectively 
hindering his progress to draw closer, but he didn't 
mind.  He was a patient man, and he'd waited a long 
time for this.  He merely stared at her unabashedly, 
relishing the fact that he was free to scrutinize her 
from head to toe without fear of being caught.  When 
she first turned around, he'd been surprised by the 
sight of her, the business suit she usually wore 
replaced now by cotton fleece, her face scrubbed 
clean of any trace of makeup.  She looked young -- 
younger than he had realized.  He didn't question the 
small thrill this gave him, nor did he allow himself to 
be distracted from his task.  Looks were deceiving, 
and this small beauty was as worthy an adversary as 
he'd ever encountered.

She turned her back on him suddenly, and he 
frowned, watching her shrug off the nervousness as 
she returned to her quiet vigil of clock-watching.  Her 
guard was down once more; he hadn't expected such 
an easy battle.

The Target stretched her arms up high overhead, 
pulling the tension out of knotted muscles, a small 
quick sigh the only sound that marked her return to 
vulnerability.  Once again, she was totally self-
absorbed, unaware of the opportunity she presented.

She lowered her gaze to look at her watch.  

Unguarded, he thought scornfully.  Unsuspecting.  It 
was too easy.  There would be no challenge after all.  
He'd expected more.

His eyes narrowed with disdain as her hips swung 
almost imperceptibly back and forth, playing out a 
rhythm only she could hear.  Small taunting sounds of 
her contentment reached him, raising the hair on the 
back of his neck. A swallow, light humming, level 
breathing.  Oh, to feel that breath against his skin as 
he covered her mouth...

She shifted her weight onto her right hip, and he knew 
the moment had come.  Her nonchalance would be 
her undoing. With her balance off-center, she could 
put up no defense against a swift, blind attack.  

She should know better, he thought resentfully.  All 
women should know better.  Such carelessness was 
their downfall.  They invited attack.  

The Target straightened, looking once more at her left 
wrist before she began to walk away, putting more 
distance between them.  There was no more time to 
reflect on the moment; he had to act or lose his 
opportunity.  

Adrenaline pumping, he approached with silent speed.  
A few quick strides, and the distance between them 
disappeared.  His movements were calculated, each 
one measured and effective as he calmly, steadily 
reached around her neck.  His left forearm closed 
around her windpipe, pulling her back swiftly against 
his chest as his right arm circled around her abdomen, 
pinning her arms to her sides, preventing any further 
movement.  There was a soft gasp of surprise from 
her, but no scream.

She didn't struggle.

He pushed aside his disappointment.  He'd expected 
more.  He'd looked forward to more.

The woman in his grasp was still as a stone.  He held 
her at his mercy, incapable of retaliation, though he 
could feel the futile tension in her muscles.  Her body 
was rigid against his own, her frustration tangible.  It 
almost made him feel sorry for her, knowing the 
measure of pride she took in her self-reliance.  Almost 
made him regret his actions, made him sorry he was 
so rough with her.  

Perhaps he could have been more gentle...

The second-guessing stopped the instant he felt the 
heel of her right foot make contact with his shin.  The 
kick was swift and precise, delivered without warning, 
and she followed it instantly with another kick in the 
same spot.  Her  accuracy was deadly.  Deadly and 
excruciating.

Startled, he reacted to the pain by loosening his grip 
on her body, and she turned her full fury on him.  Her 
arms pulled free from his grasp and rose quickly in 
defense, coming up instinctively between her chest 
and his arm, pushing violently against his wrist.  
Unable to maintain his hold on her, he took an 
unconscious step backward, and she doubled over, 
using the space between them to gain a foothold.  Her 
hands tightened on his forearm and she pulled against 
his weight, leveraging his body to roll over her back 
and onto the floor.

Within seconds, she had him helpless.

He stared up at her, wide-eyed.  

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

Clear blue eyes met his own, and he was surprised by 
what he saw in them; Special Agent Dana Scully 
looked bored beyond words.

And more than a little amused.

She swung her leg over his body and straddled his 
abdomen, using her weight to pin him as she raised 
an eyebrow in reprimand.  "Care to explain yourself, 
Agent Mulder?"

"Um...I'm home?"

"So I see."

"I thought I'd surprise you," he told her, starting to rise.  

She pushed him back down with surprising ease.  
"Surprise me?  Mulder, a deaf man in Asia could have 
heard that approach -- and probably did," she 
chastised lightly.

Unwilling to admit his defeat or explain it, he gave a 
sheepish smile instead.  "Two out of three?"

"Huh-uh."  She clutched a handful of his t-shirt and 
bent forward toward his face, her knuckles pressing 
into his stomach, forcing the breath from him.  "I want 
to know what that little maneuver was all about."

"What?  I don't know what you--"

She pressed harder.

"Ooof!"

She eased up.  "Mulder...what are you doing here?"

"Well obviously, I came to work out with you."  His 
gaze wandered down to her hands, which still held 
two fistfulls of his shirt.  "Although at this point I'm 
seriously reconsidering my options."

She released his shirt but made no move to rise.  "You 
couldn't have called?"

He stared up at her.  "I guess the big `running-
through-the-field-with-outstretched-arms' reunion thing 
I had planned is out of the question?"

Her expression was all the confirmation he needed.

"I got in a couple hours ago," he told her.  "I knew you 
were going to be here working out and I thought I'd 
surprise you."

"What about your case?"

"Finally got a break."  He shrugged, reluctant to detail 
the gruesome murder cases he'd spent the past two 
days memorizing. His head rolled from side to side as 
he took in the lateral view of the empty gym.  "The lab 
results on the trace evidence from Texas were 
sufficient to establish the murders weren't related.  I 
gave Wiles my paperwork and hopped the 4:15 
home."

Her expression softened, and she graced him with a 
small hint of a smile, leaning down close to tell him, "It 
isn't that I'm not glad to see you, Mulder...I am.  But I 
have to keep this appointment.  I promise," she told 
him conspiratorially, "after this workout, I'm all yours."

You don't know the half of it, he thought, mesmerized 
by the feeling of her slight weight on top of him.  
You're mine now, Scully.  Signed, sealed, delivered.  

Of course he didn't say it.  But the possessive feeling 
that washed over him at her casual comment 
surprised him with its intensity.  All she had to do was 
look at him like that and he was lost.  Aware that his 
mouth was suddenly dry, he swallowed hard, his 
tongue darting out to moisten parched lips.  "So," he 
questioned at last, "exactly how glad...are you, to see 
me?"

His hands came up to sit lightly on her hips, and for a 
moment, she looked tempted.  The battle being waged 
silently within her was almost comical to see played 
out in her deep blue eyes, and Mulder had an 
unencumbered view.  He watched with vested interest, 
able to pinpoint the exact moment that the little 
pantsuit-clad ScullyAngel sitting five inches above her 
left shoulder finally kicked the shit out of the 
delectable little lingerie-clad ScullyDevil he'd been 
rooting for.

"I'm very...very glad to see you," she told him, raising 
his hopes momentarily before squashing them like a 
twinkie under the foot of a Sumo wrestler.  "But it's 
going to have to wait, Mulder, much as I hate it.  I 
can't play yet."  Her hands began smoothing out the 
wrinkles she had inflicted upon his t-shirt. With 
obvious reluctance, she rose to her knees, wincing 
visibly.

"What?" he asked, instantly concerned.  "Is it your 
leg?  Did I hurt it when I grabbed you?"

"Relax," she commanded lightly.  "You didn't hurt me, 
Mulder." Her breath caught as she probed gingerly 
around the back of her left thigh, massaging the area 
around her healing wound.  "It's fine.  When I stress 
the muscle in any way for longer than a couple 
minutes, it hurts when I move.  That's why I need this 
work out so much."   She made another move to get to 
her feet.  "I need to walk this off before my trainer 
shows up.  He was supposed to be here five minutes 
ago."

"Um...he's not coming, Scully."

She looked confused.  "What?"

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

He paused, reluctant to come clean.  "I kind of...sent 
him home."  He looked all around the gym, determined 
not to meet her pointed gaze.

She sat back down on his stomach, making no effort 
to do so gently. "Excuse me?"

The light fixtures in this place were really dirty, he 
noted.  How long had it been since anyone with an 
extension ladder did any kind of maintenance up 
there?  Chipped paint was one thing, but the fixtures 
looked shot to hell.  No telling about the amount of 
shoddy duct work...

"Mulder..."   Her voice held a warning he couldn't 
ignore.  "You sent...?"

He sighed.  "He was on his way in when I got here.  
I...I...might have told him..."

She didn't wait to hear what he'd told him.  Her anger 
was immediate.  "You sent him away?  You took it 
upon yourself to send him away?  I can't believe you, 
Mulder!  You had no right!  I needed this -- it's 
important!  I told you that on the phone.  If I want to be 
reinstated for active duty I have to be positive I can 
defend myself in the field!  I need this work out!"

"So work out with me," he protested.  "That's why I 
came!"

Her mouth dropped open in wordless accusation, her 
forehead wrinkled in amazement.  She looked at him 
as if he'd grown another head.  "You're serious."

It was his turn to look hurt.  "Why not?"

"Because you can't do it," she told him flatly.

"I can't d...WHAT?"

She gestured around them, indicating their current 
position on the mat.  "Well this should be a big clue, 
Mulder.  I mean, what was this?"  She held her palms 
up in an expression of puzzlement.  "You try to take 
me from behind and I've got you pinned in twenty 
seconds?"

He tried to formulate an answer, but his mind was still 
stuck on the words "take me from behind."  The 
prospect was infinitely more pleasing than anything 
they were discussing here for the fifth time already.  
Unfortunately, Scully didn't see it that way.

She toyed with the fabric of his t-shirt for a minute, 
then pressed her hands to his chest, stilling any 
thought he had to try and rise again. "I know you 
meant well, Mulder," she told him, her voice assuming 
a softer, almost soothing tone.  "But I'm pretty sure 
you lack the killer instinct where I'm concerned.  I 
mean...look at us!"

He didn't need to. He was painfully aware of their 
position.

"You hesitated.  I felt it the minute you touched me.  
You were going to blindside me, and at the last 
minute, you held back."  She leveled him with a stare.  
"And don't deny it because I can always tell when 
you're lying."

"Scully, I --"

"Held back," she interjected.  "Why?"

"--never lie to you," he finished, taking some 
satisfaction from her guilty look.  

She frowned at him through a curtain of loose red hair, 
pulled free during their struggle.  "Okay," she 
acquiesced.  "Then you explain it to me, Mulder, 
because I'm sure you don't want it known all over the 
FBI that I can pin your ass in less than thirty seconds.  
I mean, I'm good, but even I know I'm not that good."

He looked around the empty gym in mock relief.   "I 
think my reputation is safe. Can I get up now?" he 
asked politely.  His back was beginning to ache.

He made a move to rise from the worn red vinyl, but 
Scully stopped him, her hands pushing his shoulders 
back to the mat.  "No," she said.  

"This isn't exactly the welcome I had in mind, Scully," 
he muttered.  "Well...maybe part of it.."

"If you wanted warm and fuzzy, you could have 
surprised me at my apartment later tonight.  You 
dressed to work out, you came all the way down here 
to do it, and went to the trouble of sending my trainer -
- whose time I paid for, by the way -- home.  So I want 
to know why you felt it necessary to pull back at the 
last minute.  I don't need you to protect me, Mulder.  If 
you're going to work out with me, I need you to 
challenge me.  So tell me now if you can't do that, and 
I'll reschedule my appointment."

Her hands still gripped the muscles of his shoulders, 
her fingers lightly kneading the flesh underneath his 
t-shirt.  He wondered if she knew she was doing it.  
She did so many sensual things without realizing it.  
Like that little catch in her voice on the phone the 
other night.  She might have thought she sounded 
completely casual, but Mulder knew beyond a doubt 
that she'd been imagining his hands roving her body 
instead of her own.

God, he wanted her.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well what," he asked, shaking himself back into the 
conversation.

She growled in frustration and slapped at his chest.  
"You're not even listening!  This is exactly what I'm 
talking about!"  Her eyes flashed in anger.  "You know, 
this isn't just about me, Mulder -- it's about you too!  
I'm not going to gain anything if you go easy on me.  
Do you really want someone covering your back who 
can only protect you from bad guys who are 5'2" and 
104 pounds?"

"No!  Of course not.  It's just that..."  He picked up her 
left hand and pressed her palm against his own right 
hand, spreading their fingers out in a mirror image of 
one another, holding them up for her to see.  God, she 
was small.  The tips of her fingers stopped more than 
an inch below his own, her light pink nails a startling 
contrast to the dark tones of his skin in the dim room.

The gesture was surprisingly soft, somehow more 
gentle than he'd intended it to be.  She didn't say 
anything; she simply looked at him with an intensity he 
couldn't quite identify but responded to instantly.

He ached to kiss her.  He had to kiss her...

"I don't want to hurt you, Scully," he said honestly. "I 
know this is important to you and I honestly had the 
best of intentions when I came here.  I thought I could 
help you work out and we'd get to spend more time 
together, but..."  He diverted his eyes from hers.  
"...I'm twice your size, and..." His voice trailed off 
leaving the implication heavy between them.

Her brow furrowed in frustration.  "Mulder, you know 
that has noth--"

"I couldn't do it," he told her blankly.  "When it came 
time to go in for the kill, I just couldn't do it.  I've seen 
you hurt before, Scully.  Badly."

His eyes found hers again and the irritation on her 
face ebbed away, softened at the sincerity of his 
words. 

"I just...I don't ever want to be responsible for that."

Without a word, she moved her fingers to the left, 
bending them over his hand, allowing his own fingers 
to thread through hers instinctively.  Hands loosely 
clasped, she bent down, lowering herself until they 
were chest to chest, then she leaned toward his ear in 
a gesture of confidence.  "First of all..."

He closed his eyes, listening intently to the soothing 
sound of her quiet words.  He was totally unprepared 
for the sudden, excruciating pain of his index finger 
being twisted back toward his wrist with amazing 
strength.

"...you're assuming that just because you're bigger 
than I am, you would win."

"OW!" he gasped, trying to pull his hand away.  He 
had been willing to concede the bruise on his shin to a 
well-executed defense tactic, but this wasn't self-
defense.  This was an offensive strike, and the fact 
that she wouldn't release him was his first clue that 
the mood had shifted drastically.  

Dana Scully was not playing games.

That startling fact roused the competitor within him, 
and proved the catalyst for something that, until that 
moment, Fox Mulder had never imagined he would 
ever feel toward his partner:  the need for retaliation.

"You just assume that because you're the big strong 
man, you would automatically have the advantage 
over poor...small...weak...me."   She accentuated her 
words by twisting his wrist, putting more pressure 
against his aching finger, even as her lower body 
ground into his with more pleasant repercussions.

Pain was at war with arousal, and he didn't know 
which was more intense.  All he knew with certainty 
was that the woman who sat astride him was soooooo 
going to regret this course of action.  He didn't know 
how.  Yet.  But she would...and soon.

Oblivious to the emotional tilt-a-whirl her partner was 
experiencing, Scully egged him on relentlessly.  She 
released his finger, freeing her own hands and 
pressing them flat against the floor on each side of his 
head.  "Haven't you heard, Mulder?" she whispered, 
settling her lower body tight against his, stilling any 
further movement from both of them. "Rule number 
one:  size doesn't matter."

Her lips were no more than a heartbeat away from his 
neck.

His gaze locked with hers and he willed himself to stay 
in control.  He had no idea where she was about to 
take this conversation, but he knew beyond a doubt 
that he was finished with his role as subordinate.   

"That a fact?"  He could hear the tension in his own 
voice as he struggled to ignore the warmth of her body 
and the feeling of her legs straddling him, her thighs 
gently squeezing his ribs.

"Uh huh," she breathed, the sound warm on his cheek.  
"Technique is everything."

He went perfectly still and just stared at her.  God, she 
was good at this.  It was the closest thing to outright 
innuendo she'd ever thrown at him, and for a moment 
he was absolutely stunned into acquiescence.  He 
couldn't believe she'd gotten the better of him.  
Double entendre was his game.  He invented it.  Now 
when he needed that smug, cynical wit, he was at the 
mercy of an ass-kicking pixie.

What's wrong with this picture, he wondered, trying to 
rally his waning competitive spirit.  He was supposed 
to be in the driver's seat when it came to...well, when 
it came to whatever the hell this was.  She was right 
about one thing:  he'd been too easy on her.  He'd 
underestimated her again, and that was a situation he 
was about to rectify.

Technique was everything?  He had technique.  He 
had it to spare.

"You're right, Scully," he said pointedly.

She blinked in surprise, unprepared for his admission.  
"I am?"

"You are.  I went easy on you, and that was wrong.  
This is important; it's your career.  You needed to 
practice, and I let you down."   He held her gaze, even 
as he extended his hand.  "I can do better.  C'mon, 
help me up."

She looked skeptical.

"Honest," he told her, his hand still reaching out to 
her.  "Give me one more chance.   I promise this time 
I'll kick your ass."

The corners of her mouth twitched, and she took his 
hand, rising at last and moving to pull him up behind 
her.  "Okay, one more chance, Mulder.  That's it.  And 
this time you have to promise me that you--"

His hands were around her hips before she finished 
the sentence.  One quick tug, and she came falling 
toward him.  He rolled out of the way as her butt hit 
the mat and she scrambled to get to her knees.  She 
wasn't fast enough.

He moved with the grace and speed of a panther, 
pouncing while she was robbed of her balance.  In 
one quick move, he captured both of her wrists, and 
used his leg to push her off her knees.  Once she was 
on the mat, he swung one long leg across her 
stomach, and straddled her as she had him.

Then he went a step further.

He raised her arms up toward her head, pinning them 
to the mat with his hands against her wrists.  
Stretched out to hold her in this position, he shadowed 
her body with his own, his face hovering just above 
hers.

He leaned down to her ear, purposely recalling her 
actions earlier.  "Rule number two," he rasped.  "Never 
let your guard down."

She was breathing hard from exertion, her indignant 
reply coming between labored gasps.  "I 
can't...believe...you just...did that."

"Believe it," he panted.

"I wasn't...ready."

Her chest was rising and falling in rapid rhythm.  With 
every breath, he felt the swell of her breasts beneath 
her sweatshirt, pressing against him.  This time, he 
couldn't prevent his body's reaction to the intimate 
contact with her, and he felt his erection press hard 
against her belly.  Her eyes widened, but she said 
nothing.

"You said not to go easy on you and I didn't.  You 
think an attacker is going to wait for you to be 'in the 
moment' before he grabs you?  Expect the 
unexpected, Scully.  You should know that."

"Oh believe me, Mulder," she told him pointedly.  "I'm 
very much...'in the moment.'" She tilted her head to 
look down at her abdomen where their bodies were 
pressed together.  "Obviously...I'm not as 'in the 
moment' as you are," she said, raising an eyebrow, 
"but you made your point."

He stared at her.  "I didn't make it alone."

She didn't shrink from his words or his gaze.  "This 
isn't about sex -- and I get the idea, Mulder.  You can 
let me up now."

"Let you up?  LET...you up?  Why Scully, I'm 
surprised at you.  That would be going easy on you.  
That wouldn't be right.  What would you gain from 
that?"

Now her irritation was beginning to show through.  
She strained against his grip on her wrists.  "You're 
not being funny, Mulder."

He bent closer, his voice a mere whisper though it 
seemed he was screaming every word.  "Let me clue 
you in about something, Scully.  When a man's got a 
beautiful woman at his mercy?  When he's lying on 
top of her and feeling every inch of her body 
underneath him?  It's a safe bet he's not trying to be 
funny."

She moved her head to the left, gaining just enough 
distance from his face to fix a steady gaze upon him.  
"Is this the part where I'm supposed to get all 
embarrassed and blush for you?"

"Mmmm...please do." The words were a dare.

"My pleasure. Just as soon as you say or do 
something to shock me."

"I asked you first," he whispered.

"Hmmmm...," she mused.  "Something to shock 
you...something to shock you.  Would this classify as 
challenge or opportunity?"  Her eyes lit up suddenly 
with a sparkle of mischief he'd rarely seen, making 
him instantly wary.  "Okay, Mulder.  This is me, 
shocking you."

It happened before he could blink, a flash of 
movement as she lifted her head, closing the few 
inches between them.  He felt the moist warmth of her 
breath as her parted lips drew close, then her tongue 
darted out and flicked the tip of his nose.

He reared back in surprise, but he didn't let go of her 
wrists.  Not until he felt her lips make contact with this 
throat.  She moaned once, softly. Or was that him?  
Then her tongue began to trace a path from his 
adam's apple across his jaw and up his cheek.  The 
sensation was incredible.  Every neuron in his body 
went ballistic.  He released his grip on her, his hands 
moving flat against the mat to support his own weight.  
"Jesus, Scully!  What --"

Her mouth silenced his words, slanting over his lips 
with no trace of gentleness.  Her hands cupped the 
sides of his face, pulling him further into the kiss.  He 
didn't need to be asked twice.  After years of fighting 
the good fight, weeks of reliving the memory of their 
close encounter on the riverbank, there was no 
question about what was happening.  It was long 
overdue.  He knew it.  She knew it.  The entire 
goddamned FBI knew it.  So if half a decade of sexual 
tension was meant to culminate on a red vinyl mat in 
the shadows of a dimly lit gym, he could live with that.

Reaching behind her back, he scooped her up from 
the mat, grasping her head with his hand, holding her 
close to him as he ravaged the soft interior of her 
mouth with his tongue, his entire being committed to 
memorizing every tantalizing moment of this 
encounter.  So good, so sweet...so much better than 
his dreams...

He couldn't breathe.

He could feel her mouth against his, he could feel her 
fingers against his neck, but for the life of him, he 
couldn't breathe.  

"Gotcha," she whispered against his mouth.

<end part 1>

Part 2

His arm dropped limply to his side, and he watched 
with a vague air of detachment as Scully pulled away 
from him and shifted her weight to push him flat on the 
mat, her hands never leaving his neck.  He had to give 
her credit; the woman knew her pressure points.

Her fingers released the nerve on his neck, and he 
gulped for air as she rolled him unceremoniously onto 
his stomach, bending his left leg up, and pinning it to 
his back with the weight of her body against his shin.  
She then grabbed his left arm, pulling it hard and high 
against his back.

"This is fun, Mulder," she panted, sinking down 
against the damp cotton shirt that clung to his back.

"Speak for yourself," Mulder growled, his cheek 
pressed firmly against the mat.  "That was cruel, 
Scully."

She clucked her tongue in mock disapproval.  "It 
wasn't cruel."

"No?  What would you call it?"

She was quiet for a moment before replying.  "I guess 
I'd have to call it a distraction."

"Whatever," he mumbled.  Not about sex?  Bullshit.  
This was entirely about sex; if it hadn't been before, it 
certainly was now.

She eased up her hold on his leg, lowering herself just 
enough look into his eyes.  "Rule number three:  the 
end justifies the means."

"What the hell does that mean?"  The woman looked 
entirely too pleased with herself.   All right, Scully, he 
thought.  You wanna play dirty?   I can play dirty.

Ever so slowly, he began inching his right arm 
underneath his body toward the left.  If she thought 
she could kiss him thoroughly enough to make his 
fantasies jealous and then just walk away, she was 
wrong. 

Scully was oblivious to his movements.  Grinning like 
a Cheshire cat, she blew lightly in his ear, making him 
shiver.  "It means there are no rules in battle -- you 
have to use whatever you can."

"I thought you said this wasn't about sex," he accused 
her pointedly.

"It's not."  Her breathing was labored.  "But sex can be 
a very effective weapon, Mulder. Sometimes you have 
to use it."

Sex was a weapon, huh?  Fine.  Whatever.  At least 
he was suitably armed for that fight.

Mulder watched his partner smile, obviously still 
confident that she held the upper hand.  "So what 
you're saying in effect, is that there are no rules here?  
None at all?"  he repeated, flexing his fingers 
underneath him, feeling his fingertips brush against 
the softness of Scully's grey cotton fleece.  

Be careful how you answer, Lady.

She bent down even closer to his cheek, her lips 
barely grazing his skin before she pulled back slightly, 
emphasizing the sexual tease.  "None," she said 
emphatically.

"Well then," he said evenly, grabbing a handful of her 
sweatshirt in his right hand.  "Lucky for me I'm a fast 
learner."

Her cry of surprise signaled the opening he needed.  
He pushed hard, rolling to his back, making her 
relinquish her loose grip on both his arm and leg.  For 
one brief moment, they were on equal footing; then he 
stood up and pulled her up after him, his hand still 
clutching a handful of material near the neck of her 
sweatshirt.

"My my, how the tables have turned," he taunted.

She looked like a cornered animal, her blue eyes 
flashing a combination of wariness and excitement as 
she struggled against his hold.  She made a motion to 
retreat, trying to pull away from him, but his grasp was 
too strong.  There was no way she could get away.  
Not without...

She raised her arms high overhead, simultaneously 
crouching low in a deep knee bend, allowing her arms 
and head to slip easily from the oversized garment.  
Surprised to find himself suddenly holding an empty 
sweatshirt, Mulder took a step back.

He smiled at her then, wagging the sweatshirt back 
and forth as it dangled from his index finger.  "Lose 
something?"

She brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead.  
"It wasn't a loss," she shot back, holding her ground 
as he took a step toward her.  She put her hands on 
her hips, facing him with confidence.  "It was... 
strategy."

"You say so."

"I do."  She stood three feet away in sweat pants and 
a black sports bra.  Her hair was in wild disarray.  She 
was breathing heavily, the sheen of perspiration 
making her skin glisten under the soft light.

If he lived a thousand lifetimes with her, he would 
never cease to be amazed by her beauty.

"Can I have that back, please?" she asked, holding 
out her hand for the shirt.

No way in hell.  

"Sure you can," he told her.  "But you're gonna have to 
come get it."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me.  If you want it, come get it."  He 
wagged the shirt just out of her reach, making her 
frown.

She studied the situation for a moment, then shook 
her head.  "And put myself in a position for you to grab 
me?  I don't think so."  She crossed her arms.  "Nice 
try."

"Fine.  Your call."  He threw the shirt aside, but Scully 
didn't look to see where it landed.  She kept her gaze 
upon Mulder, her eyes sparkling with energy.  Slowly, 
they began to circle, each looking for an opening and 
each determined not to provide one.

He moved to the right.

She followed.

He turned back to the left.

She mirrored his every move.

"This could go on all night," he told her.

"Promises, promises."

There was that mischievous gleam again. The 
suggestive comment brought him up short.  He 
stopped circling and drew up to face her.  "How could 
you do that?"

She stopped moving when he did, looking genuinely 
perplexed by his serious tone.  "Do what?"

"Lecture me about making this all about professional 
reinstatement and then kiss me as nothing more than 
a means to an end.  Didn't that affect you at all?  Even 
after..."   After four years of waiting for this weekend 
that's slipping through our fingers, he added silently.  
He instantly regretted the words.  They sounded hurt, 
and that was a vulnerability he wasn't ready to hand 
over to the pint-sized American Gladiator who stood 
facing him.

She started to move toward him, reaching out her 
hand, then obviously thought better of it.  "Well..." she 
started.  "I had to do something, and I didn't have a 
whole lot of options."  She licked her lips nervously.  
"It had to be drastic -- as you pointed out, Mulder, 
you're bigger than I am."

The teasing came to a halt as he looked at her with 
utter seriousness.  "Soooo...finding yourself 
underneath me was such an awful prospect that you 
had to do something as drastic as kissing me to 
escape?"

She winced at the ugly description.

"Gee, Scully.  I'll bet you say that to all the guys."

She shook her head, visibly frustrated.  "That's not 
what I said.  You're twisting my words."   She began to 
circle again, slowly, to the left.  "What I said, Mulder, 
was that kissing you was a distraction.  You just 
assumed you were the only one who was distracted."

For a moment, his heart skipped a beat, then he 
started to dissect the dozens of possible meanings for 
that statement.  Damn it.  Why did they always have to 
do this?  Why did they have to leave so much up to 
interpretation?  Why couldn't either one of them 
commit to a direct statement, make a declaration?  
Why did it have to be so damn hard?

Because this is who we are, he told himself, 
answering his own question.  This is what we do.  This 
is our game, and we're good at it.  The thought was an 
epiphany.  They were playing their own game.  It had 
always been their game.  Their rules that no one else 
understood.  Why couldn't he introduce some new 
ones?  Like truth.

He could do truth, couldn't he?

Time to find out, he told himself.  His eyes held hers in 
utter sincerity.  "Oh I  was distracted, all right," he 
admitted, winning a small smile from her.  

"So...are we going to stand here all night," she asked, 
beginning to circle slowly to the left.

He smiled back at her, resuming his own movement.  
"Well I suppose we could," he told her.  "I mean, I've 
got a helluva view.  If my opinion counts for anything, 
you really should wear this outfit more often."

She shrugged good-naturedly under his scrutiny.  
"You're not going to embarrass me, Mulder.  You 
should know by now I don't play coy.  Besides, if you 
want something badly enough, immodesty's a small 
price to pay.  I want to come back to work."

New rule.  

He stopped circling again.  "Really?  Now there's a 
philosophy I'm willing to test."  He reached behind his 
head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt, pulling it off 
in a single movement and throwing it to the floor, 
where it joined Scully's discarded sweatshirt in a pile 
of damp wrinkles.  Standing before her, bare-chested, 
his sweatpants slung low around his hips, he gave her 
his most devastating smile--the one he kept in reserve 
for crucial situations.  "How long do I have to wait?" he 
asked pointedly.

Dazed blue eyes blinked, uncomprehending.  Her 
mouth opened and closed twice without sound, her 
perfect lips forming a small O shape as she stared at 
him.

"Scully?" 

She blinked hard.  "What, Mulder?"

"I said how long do I have to wait?"

She blinked again, harder this time, her forehead 
wrinkled in confusion.  "Wait for what?"

"To get what I want."  He eased forward, noting with 
smug satisfaction that she didn't move away.  Instead, 
she seemed rooted to the floor, staring a hole right 
through him.  "You said if I was willing to sacrifice 
modesty, I would get what I want.  Is this not enough?"  
He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his 
sweatpants, and slid them half an inch lower."

Her eyes widened, taking in every inch of his muscled 
stomach.  

"Still not enough?"  The pants slid even lower, barely 
clinging now to his narrow hips.  "I must be doing 
something wrong here, Scully.  Exactly how much do I 
have to sacrifice?"

She stood back, taking in his one man strip show with 
intense focus.  "Well that depends," she said, her 
analytical words tempered by the low, throaty tone of 
her voice. "What exactly do you want?"

"The same thing you do."

Only her right eyebrow reacted.  "You want a twenty 
one inch waist and long legs?"

"Not a chance," he murmured, walking slowly toward 
her.  "And neither do you.  Long legs are highly 
overrated."

"Well then what is it you think you and I both want?"  
Her voice was whisper soft.

"I think we want to distract each other again."  At last 
he was toe to toe with her, nowhere for either of them 
to go.  "I think we both want to continue this full body 
exercise, without the pretext of wrestling."  He lowered 
his head to hers and her chin lifted instinctively, 
allowing him to brush an angel soft kiss across her 
upper lip.  "What I think we both want, Scully, is a 
satisfying end to this five year mating dance."

She didn't find her voice for a moment, then she 
pinned him with The Look.  The one he knew was her 
last defense before she usually yielded to whatever it 
was he wanted.  "You seem pretty sure of yourself 
there, Sailor."

He shrugged with an exaggerated nonchalance he 
sure as hell didn't feel.  "I'm not the one who started 
undressing."  He reached out his hand, slipping his 
index finger underneath the black spandex strap of 
her bra, running it down the length of the arm hole 
until it encountered the soft swell of her breast.

"That wasn't undressing," she told him, her voice too 
hoarse to be convincing.  "I told you -- that was a 
textbook example of an evasive maneuver."

"Is that what that was?" he asked, his finger continuing 
to trace the soft outline of her figure.  "Cause it looked 
like undressing to me."  His finger was on a mission 
now, the back of his knuckle sliding lightly across the 
shiny fabric, making her nipple harden under the 
softest of touches.

She submitted to the light caress, but not to the 
accusation.  "I'm familiar with your hobbies, Mulder.  
I'm fairly certain that *everything* looks like 
undressing to you.  Besides," she continued, "it wasn't 
undressing because I had every intention of putting it 
back on.  That is, until you threw it on the floor."  

The seduction was in full swing.  Mulder's arms 
reached around Scully's waist, pulling her closer.  
"Well it was pretty much useless to me," he told her, 
accentuating his conversational words with a soft kiss 
to her temple.  "I mean, what in the world was I going 
to do with your tiny little sweatshirt?" he asked.

She turned her face up in acquiescence, offering him 
a variety of kissable places.  "If you were any kind of 
gentleman," she lightly accused, "you'd have given it 
back to me."  She closed her eyes as he kissed her 
eyelids and the tip of her small roman nose.

New rule.

"Scully?" he whispered hoarsely. God, he wanted her.  
How long had he wanted her?

"What?"  

"Rule number....four...," he told her, his body 
hardening in a surge of passion he couldn't deny, 
"...never assume your opponent's a gentleman."

He swept her into his arms in a single fluid motion, 
sinking to his knees and placing her gently on the mat, 
covering her with body.  Her skin burned against his, 
everywhere they touched.  Arms.  Mouths.  Her 
stomach against his.  His fingers fanned out across 
her taut abdomen, stroking her skin.  He wanted to 
touch her everywhere.  He wanted to kiss every inch 
of her.  

"That's...not...a rule," Scully gasped.

"It should be."  His mouth stopped any further 
argument from her, slanting over her parted lips, 
consuming her as if she was his only life source.  She 
*was* his only life source.  Without her to back him up, 
he would have died dozens of times in the past four 
years.  Without her beside him in the future, the 
deaths would be countless.  Every day.  Every hour.  
Every minute that she wasn't there, he would look into 
unfathomable blackness.  She was as essential to him 
as the air that he breathed, inseparable from the other 
intangibles that made up his very soul.

Without a sound, Scully returned his kiss, her fingers 
threading through his hair, her nails grazing the skin 
at the back of his neck as she sought to keep his 
mouth against hers.  Her tongue pushed its way into 
the softness of his mouth, and he welcomed the 
intrusion, sucking lightly, allowing her free rein to taste 
him anywhere...everywhere she wanted.

He felt ready to burst, his body throbbing at the 
exquisite contact.  How long could he wait?  Did she 
know how crazy she was making him? Every coherent 
thought he could form was centered around the 
instinctive need to bury himself inside her.  

He thrust against her gently, one time, desperate to 
ease the ache, and she moaned her approval, 
encouraging him to repeat the movement.  He pressed 
his lower body against her again, a silent preview of 
the long awaited main event, and when she rewarded 
him with a soft mewling sound in the back of her 
throat, he repeated the slow rhythmic motion again.

She found his rhythm easily, her body rising to meet 
his with every thrust, the languorous tempo of their 
actions becoming even more arousing by the friction 
of the material that separated them.  With every press 
of her body against his erection, she moaned her 
pleasure.

Jesus, God Almighty.

It was incredible.

He couldn't take it. He was going to...

He pulled his lips from hers abruptly, making her 
whimper in frustration, but his action had the desired 
effect -- her body stilled beneath his.  He sucked his 
upper lip tightly between his teeth, eyes closed tightly, 
steeling himself against the lure of orgasm.  He had a 
hard-on a sixteen year old would envy.

"Mulder?"  

The sound of his whispered name slid over him like 
melted butter, a salve to his ever-wounded soul.  This 
wasn't just for him.  She wanted this, she needed this, 
as much as he did, and he determined then and there 
to have her with him when he came.

"Shhhhh..." he told her, regaining control of his body.  
"Trust me."   His head moved lower to cover her bare 
stomach with kisses, and he thrilled inwardly when her 
body arched up to meet his mouth.  She responded 
automatically to his every movement.  Armed with that 
heady information, he dipped his tongue into her 
navel, smiling against her skin as she moaned loudly, 
writhing beneath him.  

"Who...needs...a gentleman?" she panted.  "Oh, God, 
Mulder...I want..."

"What?" he breathed against her skin.  "Tell me what 
you want." His body was on fire.  This was happening.  
This was finally happening.

The sound of angry pounding on the side of the 
building broke through the haze of passion for both of 
them.

This was not happening.

Scully dropped her hand heavily to the floor, her eyes 
closed in a heady mix of passion and frustration.  Her 
chest continued to rise and fall heavily as she 
struggled to regain her breath.  "I want to get my gun 
and kill whoever is pounding on that door."

"See that?" he ground out, rolling off her, onto the 
mat. "We do want the same thing."  He raised an arm 
over his eyes, trying to erase the ugly intrusion of 
reality on what had, two minutes ago, been the 
promise of paradise.

Scully groaned her acceptance of the interruption, a 
trace of ecstasy still clinging to every sound she 
made, turning his bones to mush.  He couldn't fathom 
the intensity of what they were about to give up.  It 
wasn't fair.

The world was a fuckin' cruel place, and fate was a 
mean son of a bitch after all.  For the briefest moment, 
he'd allowed himself to forget it.

"It's just as well," Scully murmured.  

Her tone was no more convincing than her words.  He 
lowered his arm to stare at her.  "Huh?"

She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the 
ceiling as her breathing returned to a normal rate.  
"Well...four years of waiting only to wind up on a torn 
vinyl mat where no telling how many hundreds of 
sweaty people have been before us?  We can do 
better." 

"Speak for yourself," he grumbled, unwilling to be 
appeased.  "I was planning to be at the top of my 
form."

That got her.  

She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow in 
bemusement.  "Really?  And here all this time I was 
planning for you to be on top of MY form."

The rush of blood through his ears drowned out the 
growing mob outside.  His body was absolutely rigid.  
Taking a deep breath, he gave himself over to the 
inevitable, ugly reality.  

Not now.

Not here.

"You're right," he said, indulging the irresistible urge to 
reach for her one last time.  His hand pulled aside the 
loose hair against her neck so he could plant a trail of 
kisses around her hairline.  "We can do better than a 
dirty red mat."  He pulled back and looked at her 
hopefully.  "How `bout the locker room?"

She chuckled, low in her throat, the sound nearly 
pushing him over the edge.  "You romantic fool, you.  
Take me -- here, now, by the punching bag."

Don't tempt me.  He almost said the words, but knew 
deep down the threat was a hollow one.  

Not this time.

Not yet.

The pounding continued, harder this time, 
accompanied by angry voices.  "Open the door!  Who 
the hell is in there?"  The sound of frustrated kicking 
echoed in the rafters.  "I know someone is in there!  
Open the goddamned door!"

Scully chuckled.  "Any chance they'll go away?"

"We paid for this time!  Open this goddamned door or 
I'm getting a blowtorch!"

"Smart money says no," Mulder groaned.  "All right!" 
he yelled at the door.  "Shut up already!"  He stood up 
and finger combed his hair, then pulled his 
sweatpants up to their proper position with a resigned 
sigh.

Scully was still on the mat below him, breathing hard.  
"Well..." she started, the hint of a smile turning up the 
corners of her mouth.  "You wouldn't want it to be easy 
at this point, would you?"

"I gotta tell you something, Scully," he told her 
seriously.  "After four years...you don't ever have to 
worry about me thinking you're easy."

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.  
"Yeah?  Shows what you know.  We could have done 
this four years ago, as far as I'm concerned."

"Liar."

The pounding started again.

"Knock it off!  I'm coming!" Mulder yelled, heading 
toward the door.  "Eventually," he added under his 
breath.

Scully reached out to the corner of the mat, snagging 
her sweatshirt with her fingertips, pulling it toward her 
as she sat up in a fluid, acrobatic movement.  "Hey 
Mulder," she called, stopping him after only a few 
steps toward the door.

He turned.  "Yeah?"  His t-shirt hit him square in the 
face, then dropped into his hands.

"Not that you don't look great," she said, pushing 
herself to her feet.  "And you really should wear that 
outfit more often."

He stopped for a moment to pull on the wrinkled 
garment and tried one more time to calm the anger of 
the people outside.  "Hang on," he yelled.  "Be right 
there."  He gave Scully a rueful smile, feeling for all 
the world like a teenager caught making out.  "So...I 
guess this means another rain check?"

She gave him a hungry look that made him ache to be 
in her arms again.  "Not a chance, G-man, I'm all out 
of rain checks.  My place.  One hour.  And Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna wrestle." 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Scully's apartment
One hour later


How do you dress for sex?  

That was the question on Scully's mind as she made 
the fiftieth lap around the perimeter of her walk-in 
closet.  Ordinary clothing conventions were not 
applicable here.  There was nothing ordinary about 
this encounter.  It was not a date that might or might 
not lead to sex.  It wasn't even a date that was *surely* 
going to lead to sex.  

Hell.  It wasn't even a date.

This was just sex, down and dirty.  Come over.  Let's 
do it.  How in the world was she supposed to dress for 
that?  Her manual on such matters had been missing 
for years.  Way too many years, she mused.

Briefly, she considered going the seductive route, 
thinking of some of the more daring lingerie she so 
rarely got to wear, but she discarded that notion 
quickly.  She'd already invited the man to come to her 
house and take her; garters were redundant at this 
point.  Not to mention the fact that they were too damn 
hard to get out of.  Then again, the last time she'd 
worn them, the disappointing target of her seduction 
had left quite a bit to be desired in the way of finesse, 
and somehow, remembering the feel of Mulder's long, 
nimble fingers trailing down her body, she was fairly 
certain he knew a million ways to dispose of any lacy 
enclosures that stood in his way.

She froze, reconsidering the potential.

No.  Maybe next time.

Next time?  God, what were they starting here?  Her 
mind couldn't even wrap around the multitude of 
possibilities that opened up, and as she glanced at 
her watch, she frantically realized she had no time to 
mull the endless scenarios.  Sometime within the next 
fifteen minutes, her partner of four years was going to 
ring her doorbell, enter her apartment, take off his 
clothes and make mad, passionate love to her.  
Hopefully in that order, but she was open for 
suggestions.

Clothes.  She needed clothes.

The wanton seductress look was out.  What was left?  
She pawed through her blouses and dress pants, 
looking in vain for the right combination, but nothing 
seemed right.  If she dressed up too much, then she 
was making it a date.  Neither of them needed that 
kind of pressure.  It wasn't a date.  They were surely 
past that point.

That edict eliminated at least a third of the clothing in 
her closet.  With keen scrutiny, she examined what 
was left.

Her worn, faded Levis always made her feel sexy in a 
beer commercial, Ford pickup truck kind of way, and 
she knew Mulder had a penchant for jeans during his 
off time.  He would probably come dressed for comfort 
-- at the very least, for easy access.  She almost 
laughed at the thought.  If Mulder had mentally 
debated anything since she'd left him at the gym, she 
sincerely doubted it was what to wear.

Her hand grasped the denim fabric and she pulled it 
toward her, still undecided.  For some totally 
unexplainable reason, it just seemed wrong.  Of 
course on the opposite end of the "date clothes" 
spectrum, she didn't want seem *too* casual about 
this encounter.  They'd already started the chain of 
events sweaty, wearing work out clothes; this was a 
chance to take a step back and do it right.

So what was right?

All that remained were her work clothes, things he'd 
seen her in dozens of times.  It wasn't Cinderella, but 
for some reason, it worked.  She pulled on a pair of 
light grey pants, part of a suit she'd recently bought 
and hadn't yet worn too many times.  She ignored the 
matching jacket and bypassed her collection of white 
and black blouses, opting instead for a simple, light 
blue shell that she had bought in a moment of total 
feminine weakness because the commissioned sales 
woman shrewdly pointed out what a striking 
complement the color was to her eyes.

Actually, it was a nice match.  She hadn't regretted the 
purchase.

Feeling a bit better after selecting her clothes, Scully 
carried the selections into the bedroom and laid them 
on the bed, turning her attention to the contents of her 
dresser and the silky items housed within.  She chose 
her lingerie with almost comical scrutiny, opting for her 
nicest matching set.  To hell with accidents and 
hospitals, she thought.  There was no better argument 
in the world for nice underwear than a date with 
Mulder.

No.  Not a date.

Sex.  Sex they had started but never got to finish on at 
least two different occasions.  Sex they had both 
wanted and denied themselves for a very long time.  
Sex they had come damn close to having in a public 
gym on a battered floor mat.  Sex that was going to 
change everything.

Finally.

Surprisingly, her nerves began to calm as she 
dressed.  It was methodical almost.  The closer it got 
to time for Mulder's arrival, the more steady she 
became.  No shaking hands, no trembly breath.  She 
was a rock.  She was totally in control.  With each 
passing second, the events in motion seemed more 
and more right.  This was the inevitable conclusion of 
something they'd both been working towards, and 
now, finally, there were no more barriers.  

None.

Nothing standing in their way at all.

And Scully realized that finally, she was the very 
picture of confidence and self-assurance.

She nearly screamed when the doorbell rang.

Heart racing, she glanced one more time in the mirror, 
critically cataloguing her appearance.  She 
looked...nice.  Not incredibly hot, not girl next door 
casual. Not like a woman on a date--and that was the 
main thing.

She walked toward the door, conscious of her pace, 
feeling ridiculous for wondering if she was opening the 
door too fast, or opening it too slowly while trying to 
appear uneager.  And even though she knew it wasn't, 
her pounding heart told her with every beat that it sure 
as hell *felt* like a date.

She didn't bother to look through the peephole before 
opening the door.  She knew it was him.

Mulder was leaning casually against wall by her door, 
his tall frame the epitome of relaxed, she noted 
jealously.  If she hadn't felt his body's reaction to the 
closeness they'd shared in the gym, she might have 
thought he was totally nonchalant about the whole 
thing.  But on a closer look, she realized she was 
wrong.

He was dressed in work pants and white button shirt.  
No jacket or tie, but the effort was obvious.  He hadn't 
thrown on the first thing his hand touched. His eyes 
were searing her with an intensity that stunned her.  
Still silent, he stared at her, his expression part 
uncertainty, part anticipation.  

All hunger.

For a moment, they simply looked at one another.

"Can I come in?" he asked finally, the slightest hint of 
teasing in his tone.

"Oh.  Sorry,"  she startled, moving back into the living 
room opening the door wide enough for him to enter.  
When he did, he stopped in front of her, proffering her 
something which had been hidden from her view.

The bouquet was small, a mix of wildflowers with a few 
camellias as the focal point.  It wasn't extravagant, by 
any means.  It wasn't expensive or exotic, and its 
beauty wasn't in the arrangement or the soft fragrance 
it possessed.  Its beauty was in the gesture her 
partner had made, telling her that the man who stood 
before her was on more than a personal quest for 
sexual satisfaction.

Special Agent Fox Mulder was on a date.

God help them both.

Not quite knowing what to say, Scully took the sweet 
smelling-blossoms he handed her, stepping back as 
she made an exaggerated welcome gesture, waving 
him toward the couch.  Unable to keep from smiling as 
he moved past her, she closed the door behind him 
and turned to follow.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

<end part 2>

Part 3


She didn't join him as he sat down.  Instead, she 
watched from across the room as he settled easily into 
the soft cushions of her sofa.  "I can't believe you 
brought flowers, Mulder."  

His feigned indignation was ruined by the small smile 
he couldn't hide.  "I have my moments."

She looked at the flowers she held, trailing her fingers 
lightly across the soft petals.  "Yes.  Yes you do."

"Did you think I was going to pull up to the curb and 
honk for you?" 

"No," she deadpanned.  "I don't expect that for at least 
another two weeks."

He nodded in mock agreement.  "Maybe three."

She caught the scent of the bouquet she held and 
breathed in deeply, memorizing the fragrance.  It 
amazed her how the smallest gesture from this man 
could engrave itself upon her heart.  "I just meant that 
I wouldn't have thought you could take a shower, 
change clothes, buy flowers, and drive over here in an 
hour."  She raised her eyes from the flowers and 
found him staring at her with an expression that 
branded her, body and soul.

The smoldering gaze never faltered.  "I can do a lot of 
amazing things when I'm motivated, Scully."

She began to melt before his very eyes, staggered by 
the realization that she could very easily humiliate 
herself by having an honest-to-God orgasm before 
he'd even touched her.  Just that tone of voice was 
enough to push her to the brink.    

She'd seen glimpses of his motivation before and 
knew first hand the truth of his boast.  Or maybe it 
wasn't a boast at all.  Her father used to bolster her 
self-confidence with pep talks, telling her "it's not 
bragging if you can back it up, Starbuck."  Whether or 
not the adage was true, it seemed to fit.  Oh yeah, 
Mulder could back it up.  Of course he could.  The 
man was a walking testimony to great sex; all you had 
to do was look at him, and you saw the possibilities.  
God only knew how often she'd looked.  Every female 
agent in the J. Edgar Hoover Building looked.  She 
could have named a hundred women in that office -- 
single AND married -- who would have gladly made 
themselves available to Special Agent Fox Mulder for 
a lot less than a small bouquet of flowers.

Neither one of them had moved, Scully realized.  She 
was still standing stock still in the middle of the room, 
and he was still sitting on the couch, watching her 
examine the flowers.  He must have thought she'd lost 
her mind.  Enough analysis for tonight, she told 
herself, mentally hanging the "Doctor is OUT" sign on 
her psyche.  Tonight wasn't about thinking.  It was 
about feeling.  And she was going to feel every damn 
inch of Fox Mulder very very soon.

His nude body.

Her hands roaming over his bare skin all night long.

Sex with Mulder.

She felt her stomach drop to the floor at the thought.

And he'd actually brought her flowers.

Gracing him with the first real smile she'd indulged 
since he arrived, she gently waved the bouquet.  "Did 
I say thank you?"

His sexy half-grin answered back.  "Not yet, but I have 
high expectations."  He pushed himself up from the 
sofa and walked toward her.  "In the meantime, why 
don't I make myself useful.  Can I have your cell 
phone for a minute?"

She looked at him suspiciously, but answered without 
hesitation.  "It's on my dresser in the bedroom.".

He walked down the hall, returning a moment later 
with her phone.  While she watched, he 
ceremoniously removed the battery, placing both 
pieces side by side on the coffee table, then moved 
methodically toward the phone on the end table and 
took it off the hook, disconnecting the cord at the 
same time to keep it silent.  When he'd finished, he 
walked resolutely toward her front door and locked it 
firmly, turning off her porch light as the exclamation 
mark on the statement he'd made.

She would have laughed had the gestures not been 
so completely sexually motivated.  From all 
indications, he was planning one hell of a night.

"Anything else?" she asked, furrowing her brow in 
pseudo-concentration.  "What about *your* phone, 
Mulder?"  

"I didn't bring my phone."

Her eyes widened in mock surprise.  "You left your 
apartment without your phone?"

"Damn right."

"Isn't that one of the signs of the Apocalypse?"

"Maybe.  But mark my words, Scully...if the world is 
ending tonight, you and I are going out in a blaze of 
glory."  

Mulder began to move toward her with the stealth of a 
cat stalking its prey, and with each step that brought 
him closer, Scully realized that her desire was 
suddenly at war with her...nerves?

What the hell?

No.  No no no.  It wasn't nerves.  Why in the *world* 
would it be nerves?  This was not unexplored territory, 
she told herself.   They'd already come as close as 
two people could come to making love without actually 
finishing the act.  She'd been on the bank of that river; 
she'd felt his hands all over her, his fingers inside her 
body.  They'd been mere seconds away from what she 
was inexplicably anxious about now.  Not to mention 
the long distance call they'd shared Friday night.

But this felt different.  It felt *really* different. Then she 
realized why.

Their previous experiences had been spontaneous, 
born of circumstance and fierce need. This was 
premeditated...it was *scheduled* for God's sake.  And 
premeditated encounters came with expectations.

Lovely.  Now *there* was a previously overlooked 
anxiety.

"So," he murmured closing in on her.  "You mentioned 
something about welcoming me home?"

Oh yeah.  Definite expectations here.

Every fiber of her being ached to be in Mulder's arms; 
it was so damn overdue.  The two of them were 
already in the Sexual Tension Hall of Fame and they 
both knew it.  They'd been dallying at the college level 
for years, spent the past four weeks honing their skills 
in the minors.  This was the phone call.  The big 
league, the majors.  Tonight they were going to The 
Show.  For the briefest of moments, Scully was 
confident she was ready for her turn at bat.

The mistake she made was actually looking at him.

Goddamn, the man was gorgeous.  Stunningly, 
unquestionably, jaw-droppingly gorgeous.  And he 
was walking toward her in slow motion, staring at her 
with a look that said he'd like to eat her with a spoon 
at the first opportunity.  

She needed to step back for a moment, regain control 
of herself.  Put the right emotions...the libidonous 
ones...back in the driver's seat.  It was impossible to 
do with Mulder's white shirt and dark hazel eyes 
closing in.  So she did the only thing she could think 
of:  she took refuge in the kitchen.

"Just...let me get these flowers in some water,Mulder," 
she told him, effectively stopping his advance just 
before he reached her.  

He raised one eyebrow in question, but he didn't 
protest.  He didn't even blink in surprise. If he was 
confused or irritated or frustrated in the least by her 
unexpected retreat, he betrayed none of it.

Scully walked to the kitchen mentally kicking herself 
with every step.  With a mind of its own, her traitorous 
memory recalled the sound of Mulder's lightly teasing 
voice on a plane trip from Hell, taunting her with her 
own embarrassment.  <Smooth moves, Agent Scully.>

She should have just attacked him, ripped off that 
white shirt and had a field day exploring his muscled 
chest.  God, she loved him in white shirts, a fact he 
was obviously aware of.  She loved him out of them 
too.  So why the hell had she walked away from him 
just now?  

Walked?  Like hell.  She'd run, and she had no idea 
why.  This was way out of the realm of normal 
behavior.  The emotional scrutiny was underway.  
Expert voices on female sexuality were screaming 
advice to her, sounding like the cover of every 
magazine she'd ever read.  

Cosmopolitan:  Don't forget who's in control here.  
You are the woman.  You are the dominant force in 
the universe.  It's all about you.  You, you, you.  Your 
needs are more important the needs of any mere man, 
even if he can give you multiple orgasms.   Now get 
back in there, tell him exactly what you want and how 
you want it, and don't back down until he gives it to 
you.

No.  Too militant.  Next?

Glamour:  The best thing you can do for yourself and 
your lover is to make sex an endless adventure.  Why 
not make love on satin sheets, by candlelight, during a 
rainstorm.  Afterwards, don't forget to cuddle until 
dawn sharing intimate laughter and childhood secrets 
with one another to get the full effect of that post-coital 
bonding opportunity.

Yeah.  Right.  You forgot the part about feeding each 
other strawberries and cream while sharing a bubble 
bath in a claw-footed antique tub while a live three 
piece orchestra serenades us with a dreamy sonata 
right outside the gossamer draped bay windows.  
Next?

Working Woman:  Office relationships are never a 
good idea, and the nineties career woman should 
have better things to do than think about sex.  Sex is 
over, a thing of the past.  Sex is a throwback to the 
days of the secretarial pool and the manual typewriter. 
Get yourself two good D cell batteries and move on.

With Mulder ready and willing in a white shirt in the 
next room?  Not an option in this or any other 
universe.  Next?

Woman's Day:  You wouldn't be feeling so insecure if 
you'd lost ten pounds in fifteen days, and paid 
attention to those quick fixes for hair emergencies.  
Also it wouldn't have hurt to have some splendid 
delights for late night cravings on hand either.

He already thinks I'm too thin...and what the hell's 
wrong with my hair?  Next?

Vogue:  I can't believe you're wearing that.

Bitch.  Next?

Anyone?

The experts fell silent, and Scully closed her eyes with 
a deep breath, wondering if she was destined to be 
visited soon by an apparition of some scary little 
dancing baby. Good Lord, she'd been a lot of things in 
her life, but neurotic had never been one of them.  Not 
until recently.  When did she get like this?  

When?

Four weeks ago, that's when, she answered herself.  
Four weeks ago in Tennessee, when she told her 
partner of four years that she wanted him.

And now here they were, about to change the width, 
breadth, and depth of the small universe that housed 
them both.

Shaking herself back to reality, Scully rummaged 
through cabinets at random, not even remembering 
what she was looking for.  What the hell was she 
doing in the kitchen when Mulder  was standing alone 
in the next room, patiently waiting to ravish her until 
she begged for mercy?

Wasn't that what she'd been dreaming of the past four 
weeks?  The past year?  Wasn't that what she was 
imagining a couple nights ago when the two of them 
shared a phone encounter that barely even qualified 
as vaguely discreet?  This was what she wanted.

Mulder was what she wanted.

And no matter how long she stayed in this kitchen, the 
course of events was set in stone.  They were going to 
make love, no question about it.  The look in Mulder's 
eyes brooked no argument. God help whoever or 
whatever tried to stand in his way this time.  All she 
was doing was postponing the inevitable...and she 
*wanted* the inevitable.

So get whatever it was you came in here for and get 
your butt back out there, she told herself.

Her hand grazed the delicate rim of a wine glass.  Ah.  
Wine glasses.  She found them.

Realizing suddenly that she had no idea how long 
she'd been lost in her own conflicting thoughts and 
emotions, she called loudly, "I'll be back in just a 
second, Mulder."

"Good to know."  

She jumped at the nearness of his voice, spinning 
around. He was standing silently in the doorway.   
"Don't do that."

He held up a hand in apology.  "Sorry."   He was 
studying her intently.  

How long had he been standing there?  "I thought you 
were in the living room."  She aimed her tone for 
nonchalance.

"I was."  The glimmer of a smile was in his eyes.

"Oh."  She picked up the wine glasses from the bottom 
cabinet shelf, threading the stems between her fingers 
and waved them back and forth.  "Found them," she 
explained, setting them on the counter as she opened 
a drawer and began searching for a corkscrew.

"I thought you were looking for a vase."

Damn it.  The flowers.  That's what she'd come to the 
kitchen for, not wine glasses.  A vase, you idiot.  A 
vase.

He walked up behind her until his chest was against 
her back, lightly grazing the silky material of her 
blouse.  From the corner of her eye, she saw his arms 
coming around her, and she stilled, her eyes closing 
in dreamlike anticipation, awaiting the inevitable touch 
of his hand on her body.

Yes...please God, touch me soon before I die.  I'm 
ready, Mulder.  I'm so damn ready.  I don't know why I 
walked away...

"Here's one right here."

She opened her eyes.  His arm was extended past 
her, reaching for a small vase sitting in plain view on 
the middle shelf -- right in front of her eyes the whole 
time.  So much for nonchalance.

"Tell you what," he continued in an infuriatingly 
conversational tone, "you open the wine, I'll take care 
of the flowers."  

"Okay."  

She pawed through silverware looking for her 
corkscrew, finally locating it as Mulder walked to the 
sink and filled the vase with water.  She took a 
random bottle of Chardonney from the wine rack.

All she had to do was open one bottle.  One small task 
they'd agreed upon, something she'd done a hundred 
times.  But the cork of this particular bottle seemed to 
be made of petrified wood.  She tried three times to 
get the metal screw ensconced in the cork so she 
could twist it down, but every time it simply slid off the 
top, refusing to make a dent.

"Damn," she muttered, trying to decide if she was 
more angry at the cork or the corkscrew or her total 
lack of finesse.  If she couldn't laugh about this 
tomorrow it would only be because she'd died tonight 
of mortal embarrassment.

Out of nowhere, long arms in a white shirt reached 
around her on both sides, taking both the wine bottle 
and the corkscrew from her in a single motion.  He 
didn't say a word.  Keeping her trapped loosely within 
his arms, he easily twisted the corkscrew into the 
bottle and pushed the stopper up slowly with his 
thumbs.  It popped out with no resistance whatsoever.

She felt his body move away from her, and she turned 
around, watching as Mulder set the items down firmly 
on the opposite counter and turned back to face her.  
He took two steps, closing the small distance between 
them completely, putting them face to face.  His 
closeness caused her to take half a step back before 
she hit the edge of the countertop.  

"What are you doing?" she nearly whispered.

His hands came up in a single quick motion, capturing 
her cheeks, tilting her head up towards him.  

"Putting me out of your misery."

His mouth came down upon hers in a kiss that was 
both soft and demanding at the same time.  He forced 
nothing, and yet the gentle insistence of his lips 
against hers, coaxing her mouth to open for him, was 
more than she could deny.  Her lips parted, inviting 
him in, and she felt her stomach coil tightly in 
response as his tongue sought the velvet warmth 
inside her mouth.

He continued to cradle her face in his hands as he 
slanted his mouth hotly over hers, moving her head 
first to one side, then the other as they lost 
themselves in a lover's kiss that seemed to go on 
forever.

When he finally began to pull away, she released his 
mouth reluctantly, a small moan of disappointment 
escaping her throat.

Mulder bent forward, pressing his forehead against 
hers, his palms still pressed against her jawline.  He 
was breathing as hard as she was.

Scully was on sensory overload.

Forget nervous.  To hell with nervous.  If she didn't 
have him right here, right now, she was going to 
explode.  She pushed away from the counter, 
reaching for his hand as she stepped away from him.  
He caught her light embrace, but didn't follow.

"Come on, Mulder."  Her breath was uneven.  She 
could feel the blood rushing through her veins.  Her 
heart was pounding in her ears.

"Come where?"

The look she gave him, she knew, was totally wanton.  
She couldn't have cared less how obvious she was.  
She *was* wanton.  "To the bedroom."

Instead of following, he slowly let go of her hand, 
reaching back toward the counter to pick up the bottle 
of wine he had opened.  He held it loosely in his left 
hand and threaded the fingers of his right around the 
stems of the two glasses, fitting them both easily into 
his palm.

"Oh we're definitely getting there."  He bent down, 
placing a sound, firm kiss on her still-swollen lips.  
"But we have a few things to finish up in the living 
room first."  He squeezed past her to the doorway, 
pausing to look over his shoulder in an unspoken 
invitation that was too full of promise to deny.

Breathing hard, still flushed from their kiss, Scully 
followed him out of the kitchen, wondering every step 
of the way what exactly her partner had up the sleeve 
of his devastatingly sexy white shirt.

She prayed she wouldn't have to wait long to find out.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Mulder headed toward the couch, but didn't sit down, 
and Scully took her cue from him, standing beside the 
coffee table as he poured two glasses of wine and 
handed one to her.  Her palm registered the cool 
smoothness of the delicate crystal, but she didn't care 
about the drink she held; her eyes never left his face, 
still searching for some hint as to what exactly he had 
in mind for the two of them.

The delicate rim of his glass clinked against the side 
of hers.  "Here's to an entire night with no 
interruptions."

"I'll drink to that," she murmured, taking a sip of the 
light-colored wine.

She watched, mesmerized, as Mulder drank to his 
toast and lowered his glass, a trace of moisture 
clinging to his lips, glistening in the lamplight like the 
promise of her salvation.  She couldn't resist reaching 
out to him.

Her index finger pressed lightly against the corner of 
his mouth, and he didn't move as she slowly dragged 
it across the entire length of his lips, feeling the slight 
wetness against her own skin.  When she reached the 
other side of his mouth, she pulled her finger away, 
bringing the trace of wine she'd captured with her.  

Without a word, she brought her hand to her own 
slightly-parted lips, letting the tip of her finger spread 
the small trace of now-imaginary wetness against the 
softness of her own mouth.  

Mulder watched her impromptu show, his eyes riveted 
upon her mouth.  When she opened her lips wider and 
drew her finger inside, she heard his soft intake of 
breath.  Without ever looking away from him, Scully 
closed her lips around her finger and slowly, oh so 
slowly, pulled it from her mouth, as if reluctant to let it 
leave her empty.

Mulder blinked in slow motion, his eyes finally closing 
completely, but hesitating before opening again.  His 
jaw was clenched.  

He swallowed hard, once.

His erection was obvious, pressing against the light 
material of his suit pants, and Scully knew she'd been 
testing his resolve.   Unfortunately, the man appeared 
to have an iron will.  Evidently, whatever he had 
planned for them, he wanted it badly enough to resist 
her blatant invitation for the moment.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, lust still 
prevalent in his expression, but tempered now with 
what looked to her like mischief.  Not a safe 
combination, but damn if he didn't wear it well, she 
mused.

"Soooooo, what exactly did you have in mind here, 
Mulder?" she asked.  Her voice sounded hoarse 
already, thick with passion.

He drank the remaining wine in his glass in two large 
swallows, setting his empty glass on the coffee table.  
In silent question, he held his hand out for hers.  She 
took one more sip and handed it to him, letting him set 
it aside.  

"This."  Mulder's hands snaked around the back of her 
neck, pulling her to him roughly. This time, she was 
ready.

Her lips parted instinctively the moment she felt his 
touch, her mouth melding against his, welcoming the 
heat of his tongue as it dueled with hers.  Her arms 
reached up to encircle his neck, her fingers 
encountering and lightly teasing the damp strands of 
baby soft hair at the base of his hairline.

He groaned in response to the soft caress.

Mulder's hands moved down her body to the small of 
her back, and he wrapped them low around her, 
pulling her sharply against his groin, letting her feel 
the undeniable hardness of his cock throbbing against 
her.  She pushed against him, wanting and needing 
more contact than he was giving her.

Instead of complying, he slowly pulled his mouth from 
hers, indulging one last nibble on her bottom lip 
before the last trace of her flesh parted from his in 
slow motion. Grinning down at her, his smile nearly 
robbing her of the ability to stand on her own, Mulder 
reached down and pulled off his shoes, tossing them 
aside with almost comic disregard.

For a moment, Scully thought he was seeking to 
lessen the height difference between them, but then 
he crouched before her and wordlessly tapped at her 
leg.  The command was silent, but crystal clear, and 
she did as he asked, just as silently as he asked it.  
Balancing herself with a hand on his shoulder, she 
lifted first one foot, then the other, allowing him to 
slide her shoes off and toss them aside with his own.

Mission accomplished, he straightened and took her 
hand, pulling her after him as they padded to the sofa.  
He sat down in the corner and Scully made a motion 
to maneuver past his legs so she could sit beside him, 
but instead of releasing her hand, he tugged down 
lightly, his arm encircling her hips, and she realized in 
wonder that in the course of less than four seconds, 
he had seated her firmly in his lap.

Smooth moves indeed.

She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand, 
her heart melting as he turned his head into her 
caress and pressed a soft kiss against the palm of her 
hand.

"What are you doing to me, Mulder?" she whispered, 
so soft she wasn't sure she'd even uttered it aloud.

The man beneath her pulled her low into his arms, his 
hot breath a tickle against her neck as he chuckled 
softly at the words he'd heard.  "If you don't know then 
it's been too damn long for one of us."

She gasped when he sucked lightly on her earlobe.  
"It's been too damn long for...both of us," she 
breathed.

"Mmmm hmmm," he agreed, pushing her hair aside to 
nip lightly at her jaw line.  She arched her neck, baring 
more sensitive skin to his mouth.

Scully's heart was pounding double time.  She could 
feel Mulder's erection straining against the confines of 
his pants and she ached to release him.  She wanted 
to see him again...all of him.  Nude and glorious and 
begging her to touch him.  She'd relied on her memory 
for the past four weeks, but it was nothing compared 
to the reality that pulsed hotly against her hip as she 
sat draped across his lap, supported by his arm 
behind her back.  If he didn't make love to her soon 
she was going to die, right there in his arms.

"Mulder," she breathed, her voice sounding unfamiliar 
and needy.

"Mmmm?"  He continued his oral exploration of her 
neck and hairline.

"I'm...really enjoying this whole...foreplay...thing."  She 
shuddered uncontrollably as his tongue darted into 
the shallow depth of her upper ear.  "But...I'm 
already...committed here.  You don't have to...seduce 
me."

His mouth left her neck and he raised his face to look 
at her. "Maybe I want to seduce you," he whispered.

He slid lower on the sofa cushion and pulled her 
lightly against his chest, urging her to relax against 
him.  She did and he stole another lingering kiss from 
her swollen lips before he spoke, his hand continuing 
to softly stroke her back.

"On my way over, I was thinking about how long it took 
us to get here."

She nodded.

"That there wasn't any doubt in either of our minds 
when we left the gym, about what was going to 
happen here tonight.  At least I don't think there was.  
Was there?"

"No," she said.  "I knew."

He kissed her again, tugging lightly on her bottom lip 
before releasing her mouth.

Scully was on fire.  Every touch, every kiss, sent her 
deeper into the agonizing heaven of wanting more.  
She wasn't high enough to reach his mouth unless he 
lowered his head, so she nuzzled his neck instead, 
kissing her way toward his Adam's apple.  "So why 
aren't we doing what we both knew we were going do, 
Mulder?"

His fingers threaded through her hair, urging her head 
up to look at him.  His expression was utterly serious.  
"Because it occurred to me tonight that we've missed 
some steps along the way."

She looked at him in confusion.  "Missed some 
steps?"

"Scully, I can count one hand the number of times I've 
kissed you.  I mean really kissed you, the way I want 
to...the way you *should* be kissed."   He paused, and 
the corner of his mouth twitched, threatening a small 
smile.  "You know, we've missed some of the good 
stuff."

She had to smile slightly at that.  "The good stuff?"

"This kind of stuff."  He bent his head and kissed her 
again, so brief she might have imagined it, had it not 
been followed immediately by the feeling of his tongue 
tracing the outline of her mouth.  When he finished, he 
looked at her with blatant possessiveness.  "I just 
wanted to make sure before we take the next step that 
we've exhausted all the finer points of *this* step. 
Because Scully?"

For a moment she couldn't even find her voice.  
"What," she finally whispered, her voice cracking with 
emotion.

"Kissing you and making love to you and spending an 
entire night exploring every inch of you?  It's *all* the 
good stuff. I don't want to miss anything."

The unexpected threat of tears burned behind her 
eyes, and she blinked to keep them from spilling.  
Leave it to Mulder to stun her with sentiment at a time 
like this, telling her the small, simple truths that she 
already knew but never expected to be offered so 
sincerely. He could touch her heart like no man ever 
had, with nothing more than mere words.  He handed 
them up like small, unworthy offerings, never knowing 
how she cherished even the effort he made to present 
them.

She moved from her draped ragdoll position, rising 
slightly to straddle his lap, facing him.  Her knees 
pressed into the back cushions of the sofa, and she 
inched herself up until his body was intimately 
pressed between her spread legs.  Taking his face in 
her hands, she looked deeply into his eyes.

"Mulder?"  She pressed a kiss against his cheekbone, 
following it with another that moved up higher toward 
the corner of his eye.

"What?"

There was that look again.  The hungry one.  The one 
that not only had her willing to be the main course, but 
had her damn near ready to go find the man a spoon 
on her own, if it would only put an end to this 
unbearable longing.

Her kisses moved across his forehead, stopping in the 
center to travel downward, along the bridge of his 
nose.  "I promise..."  She kissed the small indentation 
above his upper lip.  "We're not...going...to 
miss...anything."   She accentuated every other word 
with a soft kiss, her lips grazing his chin, his cheeks, 
his brow, every part of his face except his lips.  She 
raised her head to smile at him, before finally bringing 
her mouth achingly close to his.  "This whole night is 
going to be the good stuff."

His mouth met hers without hesitation.  The kiss was 
hard and demanding, full of wicked promise.  When 
his hand moved from her neck toward the front of her 
body, she panted encouragement, moaning when he 
cupped her breast through the silky fabric of her 
blouse.  

"You're overdressed, Scully."

His free hand began pulling the soft material from the 
waistband of her pants, and she broke the kiss long 
enough to sit back upon his knees and pull the silky 
barrier off completely, throwing it unceremoniously 
behind her on the floor.

"We're both overdressed, Mulder, but I know how to 
fix that."

His eyes burned with longing that mirrored her own.  
Unable to wait another minute to feel more of his skin 
upon hers, she reached for the buttons of his shirt, 
releasing them more in desperation than finesse.  He 
didn't seem to mind.  When the last one came free, he 
grabbed both halves of the shirtfront and nearly ripped 
it off, sitting barechested before her at last, hungrily 
eyeing the delicate lace that still hid the curves of her 
body from his view. She didn't have time to utter a 
sound before he cupped the back of her head, pulling 
her mouth to his as his other hand deftly released the 
front clasp of her bra in what seemed a single 
movement.   

Her brain registered the dexterity of his actions on a 
level she was only half aware of.

Oh yeah.  He could sure as hell back it up.

<end part 3>

Part 4

She could have lived the rest of her days content to 
do nothing except return that kiss, exploring every 
contour of Fox Mulder's mouth, stroking his tongue 
with her own until she committed to memory not only 
the feel, but the very taste of him inside her.  Every 
nerve in her body concentrated wholly on the task. 
Even her toes felt committed.  But Mulder put an end 
to that plan when he pulled away from her, 
suspending the kiss despite her soft sound of protest.  
His eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them, the 
intensity of his need evidenced as much by the hungry 
look on his face as by his undeniable erection pressed 
tightly between her legs.

Feeling that hardness against the core of her body, 
Scully ground her hips against him, delighted when 
she heard the small gasp of pleasure he could not 
surpress.

Slowly, showing more patience than Scully felt she 
possessed at the moment, Mulder fingered the soft 
cups of her opened bra, lightly stroking the satin 
edges of it before he slipped his fingers underneath 
and drew the fabric away from her skin with agonizing 
deliberation, pushing it back until the thin straps slid 
silently down her arms and onto the floor.

At last, her breasts were bared to his searing gaze.  
He'd looked at her like this before, once, but it was too 
long ago, and it hadn't been nearly enough.  Was 
there such a thing as enough with Mulder?  How could 
there possibly be?

"God, you're so perfect."  His thumbs stroked across 
her hardened nipples.  He cupped her breast against 
his palm, lightly kneading the sensitive flesh, making 
her writhe against him.

Heat coiled inside her like a spring, building upon 
itself toward what she knew would be an 
earthshattering release.  She saw his head bending 
low toward her breasts, and suddenly she could no 
longer tolerate his langourous pace.  Scully arched 
her back high, her chest rising to meet him, even as 
her arms wound behind his head, pulling him to her in 
blatent desperation.  His mouth closed upon her 
breast in an instant, and she moaned when he began 
to suckle her.  

She pressed her hands flat against the back of the 
couch, rising to her knees to keep her breasts at the 
right level for Mulder's mouth as she moved forward 
against him, pinning him to the sofa cushion.   His 
hands held firm to her sides, lightly moving up and 
down against her bare skin as his mouth worked 
feverishly at her breast, sucking and kissing in turn 
while she panted above him.

"Oh...God...Mulder."   She slowly sank down upon his 
lap again, thankful when his mouth didn't leave her, 
but instead began weaving a delicious trail of wet, 
deep kisses across her skin toward the other rosy 
peak.  When he reached it, he gave it equal attention, 
kissing his way around the areola before his lips 
closed over her nipple and drew lightly against her.

Scully bit down hard on her upper lip to keep from 
crying out.  How could anyone feel this much so fast?  
She was dangerously close to a place she didn't 
recognize as human.  It was a plane of ecstasy she'd 
never known existed -- and maybe it didn't for anyone 
but her and Mulder.

Mulder's hand closed around her wrist, pulling her 
hand down toward their laps.  Without a word, his 
mouth never leaving her body, he worked her hand 
between their tightly joined bodies, pressing her palm 
firmly against his straining erection.  Her fingers 
curled around him through the fabric, and he moaned, 
biting down lightly on her nipple in response.

It still wasn't nearly enough.

"Mulder..." she gasped.

His mouth left her breast and began kissing a path up 
to her clavicle, his tongue dipping into the slight 
hollow.  "What?" he rasped.

She shuddered as his lips grazed her neck.  "We're... 
still... overdressed..."

His hands moved to the front of her slacks.  "I can fix 
that," he murmured, echoing her earlier words.

His nimble fingers released the button of her slacks 
and reached for the zipper, drawing it down, before he 
released his light hold on her body, allowing her to 
stand.  She winced slightly as circulation returned to 
her legs, the back of her thigh throbbing 
uncomfortably from the position she'd been 
maintaining.

"Scully?"  The concern on Mulder's face was 
instantaneous.

She shook her head.  "It's nothing.  Just a twinge from 
how I was sitting."

He looked doubtful.

"I promise, Mulder.  I'm fine."  She slid the grey pants 
down her hips and let them fall to the floor, stepping 
out of the silk puddle and kicking it aside.  Clad only in 
white satin bikini panties, she moved over him again, 
intent on reclaiming her position upon his lap.

Instead, Mulder twisted slightly, sitting closer to the 
edge of the cushion.  His position didn't allow her to 
balance herself on her knees as she had previously.  
"Change of plans," he told her softly, craning his head 
to get a look at the jagged scar on the back of her left 
leg.

Noooooooo, she cried inwardly.  Don't you dare do 
this to me, Mulder.  Damn her leg and damn her for 
letting him see her discomfort.  He couldn't do this.  
He couldn't.  She couldn't take the disappointment of 
another postponed encounter.

She slid her hand underneath his chin and pulled his 
head up until he was looking her in the eyes.  This 
time, it was she who lowered her head down to him, 
planting the softest of kisses on the corner of his 
mouth.  "I want you," she whispered, slowly reclaiming 
her place on his lap.  She couldn't kneel over him 
anymore, so she slid one leg around his body, letting 
her legs encircle his waist completely.  When he didn't 
try to stop her, she kissed him again.  And again, and 
again, pressing soft kisses across his jaw until she 
reached his ear.

"I want you so much, Mulder," she whispered again, 
feeling him shiver. "Please don't make me wait any 
longer."  She felt his jaw clench.  "Don't leave."

He grasped her shoulders, pulling her back, looking at 
her like she'd just told him she'd renounced her belief 
in science and become an advocate of the Psychic 
Friends Hotline.  "Leave?" he croaked.

She blinked.  Wasn't that what he was leading up to?

His fingers wound through her hair roughly and he 
dragged her mouth to his, ravaging her with a kiss that 
was, in itself, infinitely more satisfying that some of 
her earliest sexual encounters had been in their 
entirety.

"Scully, we're just getting started."

His arms moved low to encircle the small of her back, 
and they wrapped around her tightly, pulling her body 
to him even closer.  Without warning, he leaned 
forward, his arms preventing her from falling 
backward, and then he stood...taking Scully with him.

They never broke the kiss.

Scully wrapped her legs around Mulder's waist, 
crossing her ankles behind him as he carried her 
down the hall and into the bedroom.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Looking back on the moment some time later, Scully 
couldn't even recall the two of them moving from the 
living room to the bedroom.  She only knew that one 
minute she had been terrified Mulder was about to 
leave and the next minute they'd been tumbling onto 
her bed in a tangle of arms and legs, hungry mouths 
and feverish moans.

Unwinding Scully's limbs from around him, Mulder 
stood up, leaving her to lie on the bed as he began to 
remove the rest of his clothes.  It was the show of the 
century, she thought, dazed by the beauty of the man 
before her, and she had a front row seat.  Her heart 
was thudding loudly as she watched him unfasten his 
pants and slide them to the floor.  Deliberately, fully 
aware of his audience, he stepped out of them and 
turned slightly, giving her a full, unencumbered view of 
the huge erection straining to escape the confines of 
his grey Calvin Kleins.

Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips, an 
instinctive response of anticipation and one she 
couldn't prevent.  Mulder noticed and grinned, 
obviously enjoying both his performance and the 
response he was eliciting.  He moved closer to the 
edge of the bed, standing before her with a look of 
total possession as he slid his hands into the 
waistband of the boxer/briefs and pushed them down 
until they joined his unwanted pants on the floor.  He 
stood before her unmoving for a moment, letting her 
drink in every inch of his nude body as his own eyes 
caressed her in a similar fashion.

It was almost too much to absorb, Scully thought, 
dazed by the sight of him in all his aroused glory.

Fox Mulder.

Her partner.

Her friend.

Naked.

In her bedroom.

Thank you God.

Fully aroused to this extent, he was huge, she 
realized.  Larger even than she remembered from 
their encounter by the river.  Large enough to give her 
pause...for about one thousandth of a millisecond.  
She was mesmerized by the shear beauty of him, and 
couldn't stop the words that tumbled automatically 
from her lips.

"You're so beautiful."

She wished them back as soon as she heard them.  
Most men by nature would have denied the claim of 
beauty, even taken offense at such a description 
given at a time like this.  But not Mulder.  Mulder 
looked down at her as if she'd handed him the secrets 
of the universe, gathered up and wrapped just for him.

"So are you."

She needed him so much.  It was no longer something 
she merely wanted.  She needed to feel him warm and 
tight against her.  Around her.  Inside her.  It was 
primal...desperate.

Scully's hands moved down across her flat stomach 
until her fingers encountered the lacy edge of her 
panties.  Breathing hard, she slid her hands into the 
waistband, as Mulder had done, eager to remove the 
last barrier that stood between them.  She paused 
when he moved around to stand directly in front of 
her.  

"Let me."

She pulled her hands away, expecting him to replace 
them with his own.  But when he reached for her, it 
wasn't her hips that felt the inviting warmth of his 
fingers.  It was her legs.

Mulder's hands closed softly around each of her 
ankles, his long fingers encircling her slender limbs 
completely.  Without preamble, he began to pull her 
slowly toward him across the mattress.  When she 
was close enough for her knees to bend over the edge 
of the bed, he released her, letting her legs dangle 
toward the floor as he parted her knees slightly and 
moved to stand between them.  Wordlessly, he 
reached for the thin band of elastic that clung to her 
hips.

Scully lifted her hips for him and he slowly pulled the 
damp material down her legs completely until they slid 
over her knees, where they fell to the floor unnoticed.  
She eased backward once more, allowing room for 
Mulder to join her on the bed, and he did, finally, 
lowering his body slowly over hers and putting to rest 
every unfathomable longing that had stood between 
them for so long.  The weight of him, so real against 
her, here in the waking hours, was too much to 
process. Mulder...naked... wrapped around her at last.

She kissed him, slow and deep, making love to his 
mouth with her tongue in an explicit imitation of what 
he would soon be doing to her.  His tongue met her 
thrust for thrust, and he moaned deep in his throat, 
wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, 
pulling her with him as he rolled to his side, threading 
his knee between her legs.  

Scully trailed her hands down his muscled back as low 
as they would reach, finding with a vague sense of 
disappointment that his magnificent ass was just 
slightly out of her reach.  Wordlessly, she broke the 
kiss and moved lower against him, licking his neck, 
tasting him everywhere along the way until her mouth 
found a new target of seduction in the form of his 
raised nipple.  She flicked it with her tongue, watching 
as it hardened even more, so similar to the response 
of her own breasts.  She  covered it with her mouth 
and sucked lightly, rewarded when Mulder's moan of 
pleasure was accompanied by the feeling of his 
erection thrusting sharply against her.

"Scully, touch me," he rasped.

Her hand was already there, closing softly around him, 
marveling at the strength of him.  He was so hard...so 
ready.  He moaned when she began stroking him, his 
need obviously as desperate as hers.  She grazed her 
thumb across the head, spreading the moisture that 
was there already, causing him to cry out harshly.  
When he did, her fingers curled tighter around him, 
increasing the tempo of her movements.  

God in heaven.  He felt amazing.  

His skin burned her, soft and hot against her breasts, 
her stomach...any place he touched her.  And he was 
touching her everywhere.

Mulder's hand moved between her legs, his fingers 
finding her core with earth-shattering precision. When 
his finger slipped inside to stroke her, she bit down on 
her bottom lip to keep from crying out, even as her 
legs parted further, allowing him greater access.  He 
kissed her deeply, and she felt her body give way to a 
second finger as his exploration continued.

Desperately, she held on, wanting Mulder deep inside 
her, matching her every movement when she climaxed 
around him.   It was a heroic effort.  But then his 
thumb moved up against the tight nerve center of her 
arousal and he stroked firmly once...twice...

She lost the battle on the third, clutching helplessly at 
the bedcovers, looking for anything that might serve to 
keep her grounded, even as she soared. Everything in 
her world exploded in an almost tangible freefall.  It 
was too much.  Too much feeling, too much emotion.  
Too much everything.

"Open your eyes, Scully."

She did, looking at him through the haze of what was 
indescribable within the realm of mere words.  His 
fingers were still buried within her.  "I was hoping we 
were going to do that together," she murmured, 
cupping his face in her hands.

"We still are."  His mouth crashed down upon hers.

She was living and breathing in a state of awareness 
somewhere between heaven and earth, and she 
wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.  
Mulder's body moved to cover hers and she parted 
her legs for him in eager invitation.  She felt her every 
nerve scream silently when he pressed against her 
body's entrance, then he pushed into her slowly, 
pausing at first, allowing her time to adjust.

She needed it.

Even with the extent of her arousal, she couldn't 
prevent the inevitable discomfort as her body 
stretched to accommodate him. When at last he thrust 
deeply, burying himself to the hilt, she gasped audibly, 
despite her best efforts not to cry out.

Poised and still, buried intimately within her, Mulder 
closed his eyes tightly, biting hard on his upper lip 
before he found the control he obviously sought, and 
looked down at her.  She knew he must have seen her 
discomfort.

He gently stroked her hair from her forehead.  "Okay?"

God yes.

She nodded.  "Give me a second."  She adjusted to 
him quickly, and nearly before the words were out of 
her mouth, she was aching to feel him moving within 
her.  Her body clenched tightly, eliciting a small 
breathless moan from Mulder.  She looked at him, 
raising a speculative eyebrow...then, pressed up 
instinctively against him.  

It was all the encouragement he needed.  Slowly, he 
began to push into her, easily finding the steady 
rhythm that she matched thrust for thrust.  Her hands 
clutched at his back, pulling him as deeply inside her 
as she could.  She felt the warm tension, so recently 
eased in the wake of her orgasm, return even 
stronger, dragging her full force toward the pinnacle 
again.

She knew the exact moment when it grabbed Mulder 
also.  He increased the tempo of his thrusts, breathing 
hard against her neck as he drove himself further into 
her.  Her palms slid across his sweat-slicked back, 
and she moaned in wordless encouragement. She 
was close...but Mulder was so much closer.  

The gentleness was gone now, replaced by the 
intensity of burning need.  He pulled back for the 
briefest moment, and in a movement too quick for her 
to fathom, he hooked his arm under her right knee, 
pulling her leg up high toward her chest. Her body 
opened even further for him.  She could feel him 
pressing hard against the edge of her womb, deeper 
and stronger than anything she had ever felt.  Mulder 
braced his position, flattening his palms against the 
mattress as he continued to pump into her 
relentlessly. In an instant, she was at the peak again, 
looking over the edge of oblivion.

"God...Scully..." he gasped.    "Come."

Whether it was a plea or a command, she complied, 
totally enveloped by exquisite pleasure as the 
downward spiral overwhelmed her.  He followed her 
an instant later, spilling into her endlessly as she 
spasmed around him.

Panting, his body still pulsing within her, Mulder sank 
down against her breast, letting her wrap her arms 
around his back.  He buried his face in her neck, 
breathing heavily against her as her nails traced light 
patterns against his damp skin.

This was all there was in the world, she thought.

Her and Mulder.

Like this.

He stirred, then, and made a reluctant motion to move 
off her, but she didn't release him.  "Stay with me," she 
said.

He eased back down, his body still joined with hers.  
"I'm heavy," he told her, kissing the end of her nose, 
then moving on to her cheekbone.

"I don't mind," she whispered.  "I want you to stay with 
me like this...stay inside me...just a little while longer."

Eyes glimmering with totally transparent male pride, 
he wrapped his arms around her, pulling them both 
onto their sides without disengaging their bodies.  "I 
aim to please."

She nibbled his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth.  
"You're right on target," she mumbled.

She lost track of the time they spent there, lying 
together, passions momentarily spent. Try as she 
might, she just couldn't form any cohesive thoughts 
about what had transpired or what it meant for their 
future together.  After building for four years, 
something this incredible wasn't easily articulated.

She decided later that Mulder put it best.

Holding her tightly, his fingers trailing lightly up and 
down her bare arm as she laid with her head on his 
chest, he looked down at their entwined position and 
grinned at her.

"I feel like we should high five."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

<end part 4>

Part 5

Dana Scully's Bedroom
12:15 a.m.


In the quiet stillness of the wee small hours, Mulder 
tightened his arm around his partner's narrow waist, 
feeling her body slide back tighter against his chest. 
He still couldn't believe he was holding her, warm and 
nude, in his arms at last.  He'd dreamed it so many 
times, but the reality was unsurpassed by his wildest 
imaginings.  Dana Scully was a sensory experience 
unlike anything he'd ever known.  Her healing touch, 
the sound of her voice...the fact that she tasted like 
heaven and that every breath he took was filled with 
the fragrance of her.  She smelled soft and fresh, like 
sunshine and rain mixed together.  He could have 
picked her out of a crowded room blindfolded, based 
on nothing but the natural scent of her hair and skin, 
so long ago committed to his heart's memory.

Her voice reached out to him softly, lighting the 
comfortable darkness that embraced them. "When did 
you know, Mulder?"

He settled his chin into the hollow of her shoulder.  
"When did I know what?"

"When did you know this was going to happen?"  She 
asked the question gently, her voice laden with 
content, sleepy curiosity. 

 "When did I know it was going to happen or when did 
I know I wanted it to?"  He imagined he could see her 
forehead creasing slightly as she pondered it.  

"Well, I meant when did you know it was *going* to, 
but you bring up an interesting question.  When did 
you know you wanted it to?"

He nestled his chin further into the hollow of her neck, 
feeling her squirm beneath him.  "Ticklish?" he 
chuckled.

Her arms covered his at her waist, hugging herself 
tighter within his embrace.  "Maaaaybe.  You're 
avoiding the question."

"I'm thinking."

When had he known that he wanted Dana Scully?  
When hadn't he known?  He'd been attracted to her 
from the beginning, but early on, the feelings then had 
been hormonal, nothing more than single man meets 
single attractive woman.  Sure, there were moments of 
raging desire... her hand pulling down the fabric of his 
shirt, massaging his neck as she looked for traces of 
infection...a glimpse of something just this side of 
platonic in her eyes during a late night stake out...but 
those were surface longings.  He'd known it even 
then. When had it changed to something more?  

He briefly catalogued some of the cases they'd 
investigated, mentally rolling through the road trips, 
the cheap motels, the cheesy diners, and then through 
the less mundane milestones that marked their 
journey together.  Abductions.  Tragedies.  Anguish.  
Danger.  How could he separate all the elements that 
were so tightly woven into their history?

Still...certain moments of clarity stood out in his mind.  
Moments that has left such impact in his memory that 
the scars would never be healed.  An empty, crumpled 
rental car, abandoned in a ditch...regaining 
consciousness in a strange hospital to be met with the 
sight of her tired, beautiful face as she slept fitfully in 
a chair beside him...a terrified voice on his answering 
machine...and the chilling memory of a cold, granite 
headstone that marked the premature passing of one 
life -- and two souls.

"I knew for sure how much I wanted you the first time 
they separated us," he told her at last.  "The first time 
they closed the X-Files."

"Really?"  She sounded surprised.

"I suppose I'd felt it for some time before then, but that 
was when I really admitted it to myself, that I was 
miserable without you...on more than a professional 
level."

He felt her nod.  "What about the other?"

"You mean when did I know we were destined to wind 
up here?"

"Yeah."

He knew the answer, but he was loathe to say it.  He 
didn't want to darken the mood with somber 
recollections.  Moments like this were few, when they 
could distance themselves completely from the 
depravity that overwhelmed them so often.

"Mulder?"

"Braddock Heights."

Her body stilled ever so slightly against him.  "What?"

"Braddock Heights.  The videotapes.  When you got--"

"I know the case," she softly interrupted.  "I just can't 
imagine the connection between that and where we 
are now."  Her voice lowered to a whisper.  "I said 
terrible things to you."

He kissed her neck, letting his tongue caress her 
lightly until he began to feel her relax again.  "That 
wasn't you." 

"But still...I know it hurt when I accused you..."

"No."  He shook his head lightly against her hair, 
placing silent kisses upon the auburn strands. How 
like her to blame herself, he thought; and how like him 
not to have known she would.  "It wasn't anything you 
said or did."  

He wondered, not for the first time, how clouded her 
memories of the case actually were, how 
compromised her entire sense of reality had been.  
Did it still haunt her today, those hazy images of all 
her worse fears come to life?  Apparently, it did.

For Mulder, though, something else had come to life 
during that case, something that had shone upon him 
like a lighthouse beacon in the midst of a raging 
storm.  It was an epiphany for the ages:  Special 
Agent Dana Katherine Scully was his soul mate.

He felt his body stir automatically when his soul mate 
snuggled deeper into his embrace, her body wiggling 
deliciously against him.  "What was it, then, about that 
particular case?" she prodded.

She felt so incredibly warm and inviting.  His roaming 
fingers began stroking her stomach lightly, drawing 
small, invisible circles upon her flesh.  

"Do we really want to talk about this right now," he 
whispered. His hand ventured lower, stroking the soft 
triangle of hair between her legs.  He  heard the slight 
catch of her breath.  He was surprised when her hand 
moved down to cover his, stilling the motions of his 
fingers against her tender flesh.  

"I'd really like to know, Mulder."  Her voice was 
coaxing, filled with honest curiosity and the unspoken 
promise of understanding.

He ceased his wayward seduction for the moment, 
wrapping his arms around her, crossing them tightly 
underneath her breasts.  "I went to the morgue," he 
told her, quietly, staving off the revulsion that 
threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought of 
it.  "I went to identify your body."

She was silent, listening.

"I stood there behind those blinds thinking that I was 
going to see you on that table...praying that it wouldn't 
be you."  His throat constricted.

"It wasn't me," she whispered.  Her hand trailed down 
his arm to his wrist, pulling it from its tucked position 
so she could bring it to her mouth.  Softly, she 
brushed a kiss across each fingertip, then laced her 
own fingers with his.

He swallowed hard, regaining his voice.  "No.  It 
wasn't you.  But it was a turning point of sorts for me."

"How so?"

"Because that was when I knew that I wasn't going to 
spend another day of my life without you in it.  
Walking into that morgue was like keeping an 
appointment with the end of the world," he told her 
honestly, uncaring how needy it sounded.  "It was the 
second time I'd gotten a glimpse of what would be left 
of me without you.  And I just knew I would never let it 
happen again."

"It won't," she promised.

"No it won't.  I made myself that promise, and I've kept 
it."

She laughed suddenly, the sound shattering brilliant 
light over the somber shadows they'd been exploring.  
"You've kept it?"  Her voice rose in obvious 
amusement.  "You've kept a promise to yourself that I 
would never leave you?  That's quite an 
accomplishment, Mulder, even for you."

He chuckled at her description.  "Now who's twisting 
words?"

She didn't return to the deep introspection, and he 
was grateful.  Instead, she leveraged herself up on 
her elbow and turned in his arms until she faced him.   
Her breasts were pressed lightly against his chest, 
making him keenly aware that her nipples hardened 
instantly from the contact.  "So...if you had this big 
master plan, Mulder," she teased, threading her 
fingers through the hair on his chest, "why did it take 
us so long to get here?  Huh?  Braddock Heights was 
ages ago."

His mouth found hers and kissed it lightly, tugging her 
upper lip gently between his teeth.  "I know," he 
mumbled.  "But I had to wait for *you* to come 
around."  His tongue flicked into her mouth for only a 
second, eliciting a soft moan.  "I have to say, 
Scully...you're kinda slow on the uptake sometimes."

"Me?" she squeaked, pulling back.

"Mmmm hmmm."  He began kissing his way across 
her cheek.  "You've been a bit...indecisive."

"I have *not* been indecisive."

His hands reached low to cup her bottom, pulling her 
agonizingly close to him.  "No?" he smiled wickedly.  
"Then you tell me...when did *you* know you wanted 
this to happen?"

Her response was instant.  "When I saw Phoebe kiss 
you in the parking garage."

He stared at her in the darkness.  "That long ago?"  

"That long ago."

That surprised the hell out of him.  He'd have bet his 
last dollar Scully hadn't felt much more than 
professional camaraderie for him until some time well 
after her abduction.  

Her abduction.

Automatically, his stomach clenched when he thought 
of the months he'd spent without her.  He pushed 
them away, refusing to follow that train of thought.  
Those were memories better forgotten now; he had 
happier pursuits to occupy him tonight.

His tongue traced the edge of her jaw.  "That's a lot of 
wasted time," he conceded.  "I must be slipping."  He 
felt her shudder.

"Obviously."

His head settled on the pillow close to hers.  "I'm 
finding this very insightful," he said seriously.  
"Soooo...you wanted this to happen ever since 
Phoebe kissed me in the parking garage.  That 
answers the first question.  What about the second:  
when did you know this was *going* to happen?"

He heard the smile in her voice.  "Same moment."

His hoarse laughter severed the last remains of their 
cozy mood.  Of all the things she could have said, all 
the moments she could have pointed to, he was not 
prepared for that one.  So many years ago, so early in 
their partnership, Dana Scully had staked a claim on 
him that went unpursued until now.  To hell with 
slipping.  He was not slipping.

He was blind as a fucking bat.

Her body shook lightly as she joined in his continuing 
laughter.  "Well I was...unprepared.  I'd never had to 
compete for your time before."  

Compete?  There was no comparison.  Dana Scully 
was in a league Phoebe Green could only aspire to.  
He couldn't suppress the grin. "Okay.  Parking garage.  
Watch tower. I'm sensing a pattern here, Scully.  I'm 
gonna go out on a limb...you really can't stand, 
Phoebe, can you?"

She pushed her leg in between his, moving up as 
close as possible and tilted her head back to look up 
at him.  "Well I don't know if I'd go *that* far."  

His memory called up the image of a half-dressed 
Scully, high as a kite on Demerol, rattling on to him 
about Phoebe as if he'd been her oldest girlfriend.  
She hadn't even known who she was talking to.

<Mulder likes women with those long Barbie legs, like 
Fleabie.">

<"Who?">

<"Fleabie.  She was his girlfrin once, but there was a 
fire inna hotel and I hate her.">

Now she wouldn't go far enough to say she couldn't 
stand the woman?

Yeah.

Right.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Okay.  You're a model 
of open-mindedness, and Phoebe doesn't bother you 
at all.  Got it."

Scully looked slightly offended.  "Don't patronize me, 
Mulder."  

God, she was fun to tease.  It was so damn easy to 
get under her skin.

"I didn't say she didn't bother me at all.  We both know 
that's not true.  I'm just saying that I think the phrase 
"can't stand her" is kind of strong.  I mean, I hardly 
know her.  I might not particularly admire the way she 
conducts herself on the job, but that's a professional 
opinion, not a personal one."

"Of course it is."  He kissed his way lightly toward her 
lips.

She fell silent for a moment.  "Mulder?"

"Mmmm?"

She dropped her head forward against him, hiding her 
face.  "I can't stand Phoebe."

His hand came up, threading into her hair, pulling her 
head back to look at him.  "Who?"  

Their mouths met lightly in a soft open kiss that left 
them both breathing hard when she slowly pulled 
away.

"Good answer," she smiled.

"I have my moments."

"So you keep telling me."  Her mouth covered his 
again, preventing any further conversation.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

<end part 5>

Part 6


1:27 a.m.

"I can't believe you're still harping on this."  Scully's 
fork stabbed at the remains of her cheese omelet as 
she polished it off with obvious enthusiasm.

She sat before him at the small table in her dining 
room, hair tousled from his roaming hands, lips full 
and inviting, still showing the evidence of his kisses.

"I'm not harping on it," he offered lightly.  "I just find it 
hard to believe I didn't know this about you after four 
years.  This is a very important dimension of your 
personality that you've been hiding from me all this 
time."

There was precious little of her hidden from him now, 
he acknowledged with whole-hearted approval.  She 
wore nothing but his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up 
past her wrists.  It was completely unbuttoned, giving 
him a delicious view of the dappled shadows that 
played across her swell of her breasts. That shirt had 
never looked better.  He'd imagined her in it before, 
slipping into it in the wake of their lovemaking.  The 
reality was more breath-taking than his wildest 
dreams.

"I wasn't hiding anything from you,"  Scully told him 
with affected disdain.  "There just haven't been many 
opportunities for you to see me in a kitchen before 
now."

"My point exactly."  He stifled a grin, swallowing the 
last bite of his own late night meal, washing it down 
with a long drink of iced tea.

"That doesn't mean I was hiding it from you."   She 
pushed back her chair and stood, the sudden 
movement separating the two halves of the shirt front 
even wider, gracing him an all-too-brief view of her 
nude body underneath.  Picking up her empty plate, 
she stacked it loudly on top of his own and carried 
them both to kitchen.

"Besides," she called out, "this is the nineties, Mulder.  
A lot of women don't cook."

"There's not cooking, Scully...and then there's 
`unable-to-make-toast.""

She came back into the dining room carrying the small 
vase of flowers, leaning over his chair to set them 
lightly in the center of the table.  She curled her head 
over his shoulder and brought her face close to his, 
kissing him soundly on the corner of his mouth. "You 
distracted me."

Her hair fell across his cheek like a silken veil, and he 
inhaled deeply, relishing the scent.  Was there any 
part of her body that wasn't excruciatingly appealing?  
He kissed her back softly, reeling from the knowledge 
that he could do so at will.  "That's a flimsy excuse, 
Agent Scully," he countered.  "To the best of my 
knowledge, I was equally engaged in those 
distractions...and did I burn the omelets?"

She refused to be baited.  "No, thank goodness.  I 
readily admit your culinary skills saved both our lives, 
Mulder.  Good to know one of us can cook."  She 
moved back to her own chair and sat facing him, one 
leg curled underneath her on the seat cushion.  His 
shirt slipped tantalizing low on her shoulder but 
managed to hold its place with an irritating disregard 
for the law of gravity.

"I can not tell a lie," he told her, lightly patting his bare 
stomach.  "Omelets and spaghetti with meat sauce.  
That's my entire repertoire."

"Well, you're ahead of me," she conceded.  "Although 
I'm not totally hopeless...I make a mean salad."  

"Perfect.  Between the two of us, we're a balanced 
meal."

"That's lovely, Mulder.  We should have that engraved 
on something."

She yawned, stretching her arms up high overhead as 
she did.  She swayed side to side for a moment, then 
bent low at the waist, stretching her arms out before 
her in a forward imitation of her previous stretch.  She 
was surprisingly limber.  He knew she worked out, but 
most of the time he saw her, she was dressed for 
office or field work, not recreation.  Whatever it was 
that she did in her off time to keep her muscles 
flexible, he was a firm believer in its effectiveness.

She straightened with a satisfied sigh and leaned 
forward on the table, cupping her chin in her hand.  
The movement was completely innocent, yet it was 
enough to spark a memory that was anything but.

Scully, in another place.

Leaning against another table.

In a comparable state of undress.

His mouth went dry, as he recalled that moment in the 
watch tower.  She'd been standing before him with her 
pants lowered, professionally instructing him on how 
to give her an injection of Demerol, patiently talking 
him through his nervousness at purposely piercing her 
flesh.  He'd tried so hard to pay attention to her words, 
and he'd been moderately successful...until she bent 
over that table.

The minute she leaned across that small rickety card 
table, all bets were off.  To hell with professional 
detachment.  All he could think about was his hands 
on her hips, tugging her back against his rock hard 
erection.  He'd done the only responsible thing, of 
course.  He'd mustered all his will power and stuck 
that needle into her hip, only to watch her hobble off to 
the other side of the room toward the shabby cot.  But 
while she was sleeping that night and nearly every 
night since, his thoughts had played that scenario a 
hundred times with a hundred variations.  The only 
constant was that heaven on earth began when Dana 
Scully bent forward over that table.

His body hardened uncomfortably as he explored the 
fantasy.  It never failed.  All he had to do was conjure 
up the image, and his erection was immediate.  It had 
nearly humiliated him on more than one occasion 
lately.  

"Mulder?"

He blinked.  "What?"

"I said you look like you're a million miles away."

Not a million.  Maybe eight or nine hundred...

"What were you thinking about?"

Deer in headlights.  

It wasn't what he was thinking about, but it sure as hell 
was how he felt.  Like a blinded animal frozen in fear 
of the immanent crash.

His silence did not go unnoticed.  She raised the ever-
speculative eyebrow in amusement.  "Now I'm *really* 
intrigued.  So tell me, Mulder.  Where did you go just 
now?"

Heaven.

He still didn't answer.  He just looked at her, sitting 
there in nothing but his wrinkled shirt while he 
weighed his options.  Mentally, he clutched the coin of 
fate, undecided whether he should pocket it and walk 
away, or flip it and take a chance on winning the 
lottery.  

The warring looks that crossed his face must have 
given the woman before him quite a show.  "Gee," she 
said coyly, "I thought the question was fairly 
straightforward and easy, but I guess I was wrong."  
She moved closer, as if speaking in confidence.  "Is it 
hard, Mulder?"

Yes.  God, yes.

"The question, that is."

She was enjoying his discomfiture, he realized.  "You 
just looked like you were thinking of something 
really... interesting."

You, lying across this table.  Me, standing behind 
you...interesting enough?

His mind had all the right answers, but the words 
wouldn't come.  He stared at her, feeling as though 
she had somehow cornered him.  He wanted to tell 
her, he realized.  That gleam in her eyes was too 
damn tempting.  God help him if she actually showed 
an interest in exploring the idea...  

Blood surged through him until the erection was 
painful, pushing hard against his briefs.  No, he 
couldn't.  Maybe sometime. Maybe even soon...but not 
now.  Not this first night together.

"It was nothing," he muttered.

She ducked her head to look under the table at his 
lap, grinning as she straightened back up.  "Must've 
been a pretty impressive nothing."

He felt himself flush slightly in embarrassment, and 
the knowledge stunned him.  He did *not* blush.  
Especially not over matters of sex.

"Let's change the subject."

"You know," she grinned, "before I looked under the 
table, I might have gone along with that.  But now I 
have to say...not a chance in hell.  You can't sit here 
and look at me like that and then not tell me what you 
were thinking."

"How was I looking at you?"

She leaned forward, causing the lowest side of the 
shirt to fall loosely to the crook of her elbow.  "Like 
you just finished your omelet appetizer and I'm about 
to become the main course."

The woman had a remarkable way with words.

His resolve was weakening.

Sturdy table.  Scully's beautiful bare ass pressing 
against him at just the right level...

"Come on, Mulder..." she coaxed.  "You know you 
want to tell me.  I can see it all over your face."

She'd seen it all over the rest of him too.  What the 
hell.  In for a penny, in for a pound.

Before he reconsidered, the confession tumbled out.  
"I was remembering that night in the watch tower," he 
told her pointedly.  "When I gave you that shot of 
Demerol."

She looked puzzled.  "When you gave me the shot?"

"Well it wasn't the shot I was thinking about."

"What were you thinking about?"

Say it, Mulder, he dared himself.  Just look her in the 
eye and say it.

"I was thinking about how I stood there and watched 
you bend over that table and  how every night since 
then, I've had fantasy after fantasy about reliving that 
moment with you."

It took a minute to sink in.  He saw the flash of 
awareness when she realized what he meant, and his 
heart caught.  He didn't flinch from her clear blue 
gaze, curious to see what kind of reaction she would 
have.  Curiosity?  Excitement? Revulsion?

What he saw was the last thing he expected.

Invitation.

Ever so slowly, her eyes never leaving his, Scully 
pushed herself back from the table and stood up, her 
movements seamless as she glided toward him with 
powerful, feline stealth.  The entire universe and 
everything in it stood still, watching her seductive 
approach.  He'd never seen anything like it.

For the first time in his thirty six years, Fox Mulder had 
no doubt of the existence of heaven.  It stood before 
him at this very moment, wearing a wrinkled white 
shirt and an expression that Botticelli himself couldn't 
have captured on his best day. 

She didn't say a thing, just waited patiently for him to 
rise, and when he did, she placed her hands on his 
upper arms, stretching up on her tiptoes to place a 
soft kiss against his lips.  Then she slowly turned her 
back to him and moved to stand in front of the table, 
looking over her shoulder to whisper the only thing 
she'd said since his confession.

"All right."

He watched, mesmerized, as her hands came up to 
the open collar of the shirt, pulling ever so gently on 
the two halves, parting them completely.  White cotton 
slid effortlessly down her arms, dropping like water 
from her fingertips into a pool on the floor.  

Even as his body screamed its need, he stood rooted 
to the floor, in awe of the fathomless trust that had 
been placed in his hands.  No qualms.  No hesitation.  
He'd told her his heart's desire and she'd given herself 
to him without question.

How did a person ever merit that kind of gift?  That 
was exactly what Scully was, he realized.  A gift.  
Something gracious bestowed upon him that he would 
endlessly strive to prove himself worthy of.

As if he ever could.

"Mulder?"

Her whisper pulled him back to her, and he heard the 
slight uncertainty in her tone -- uncertainty caused by 
his hesitation, not his admission.  

"No?"  Her voice sounded strange, choked with a mix 
of emotions, hurt...confusion...maybe some 
disappointment?

"Yes," he breathed.

He wrapped his arms around her slim waist, drawing 
her back against his chest.  "That wasn't hesitation," 
he whispered into her hair.  "That was a moment of 
reverence."

She pushed her bottom back firmly, rubbing against 
his cock.  The friction of her bare cheeks stroking 
back and forth against the cotton of his briefs made 
him groan in pleasure.  He was beyond the point of 
wanting.  His body ached with the fury of wanting her, 
every muscle rigid with the urgent need to bury 
himself in her small, tight body.  

Had it only been a matter of lust, he'd have taken her 
already.  He'd be two seconds from orgasm right now, 
uncaring if the entire world was ending around him.  
But this wasn't just a matter of slaking his lust.  
Somehow, it had even transcended the act of making 
love.  This was the ultimate measure of trust, and 
she'd placed it firmly in his hands without question.  
Here I am, her actions told him.  This is me at my most 
vulnerable.  I know you would never hurt me.

He never would.  Not even to realize a fantasy that 
had haunted every hour of his life for the past four 
weeks.

He lowered his head to hers, rubbing his nose and 
mouth softly back and forth across the top of her 
head.  "You don't have to do this," he whispered.  It 
was important to them both that he say it.  She had to 
know the decision was hers and hers alone to make.  
Even hers to take back if she wanted...if she needed 
to.

Scully's arm moved up high over her head, reaching 
back to cup his cheek.  She turned her head to look 
up at him as her voice reached him, soft and thick with 
emotion.  "I've never been anyone's fantasy before."

His heart melted completely.  She had no idea how 
beautiful she was.  He bent to kiss her parted lips, 
pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging 
gently before releasing it to the ministrations of his 
tongue.  "You have," he told her honestly.  "So many 
times I can't count."

She turned forward and pressed her bottom against 
him again. His hand splayed flat against her abdomen, 
and he heard a little mewling sound in the back of her 
throat, an expression of need that seemed as great as 
his own.  For one fleeting moment, he thought it was 
the most arousing thing he would ever hear.  The very 
next second proved him wrong.

"Please..."

The last of his self-control shattered.

Mulder freed himself from the constricting fabric of his 
briefs, and kicked them aside, inching closer to press 
himself intimately against her cheeks.  With each 
passing second, the desperation was growing.  If he'd 
had any doubt that Scully wanted this as much as he 
did, the anguished sound of her own desire, begging 
him to touch her, wiped it away completely.  

He wanted the all of it, the whole experience.  He 
wanted to take her completely, ravishing her body 
until she screamed with the force of her need.  He'd 
heard the sound before, in his dreams, and it was 
soul-shattering.  Was Scully one to scream in the 
throes of passion?  She hadn't yet revealed that 
answer to him, but Mulder knew one thing with 
absolute certainty:  it would take more than a few soft 
words and caresses to find out.

"Mulder--"  She arched her back, pressing her head to 
his shoulder with deliberate slowness.  A moment 
later, she began to sink low against him, her knees 
bending deep as she continued the journey south, 
pressing her back and shoulders firmly against his 
chest, his stomach, his groin...

Her hair spread out around his erection, parting of its 
own volition, capturing him in a prison of auburn silk.  
When she shook her head slowly, rubbing against 
him, the contact was devastating.

He bit the inside of his cheek in a last-ditch effort to 
maintain control.  It hurt like hell, but it pulled him back 
from the edge.  He reached down, curling his fingers 
tightly into her hair, tugging her up until she stood 
before him again.  He didn't release her, but instead 
pulled her head to the side, baring her neck to his 
hungry mouth.  

She moaned when he nipped at the sensitive hollow 
of her throat.  His teeth, his tongue, his breath 
explored every inch of the her neck and shoulder, 
alternately biting and sucking, licking and nibbling his 
way lower.  She lifted her arm as his mouth grazed a 
path across it.

His body was on fire,  throbbing against her.  He was 
desperate to ease the ache, Scully's soft keening 
cries spurring him on.  He pressing tighter against the 
curve of her bottom, his cock lightly stroking up and 
down between her cheeks.  He couldn't stand it 
another second.

"Now, Scully..."   He stepped one foot between her 
legs, nudging her feet further apart as he pressed 
himself against her.  She curled her fingers around the 
edges of the table and slowly bent down, until she was 
almost at a ninety degree angle, her entire upper body 
resting upon the table top, her legs spread wide to the 
floor.

She looked back at him with the most seductive 
expression he'd ever seen in his life.  "Do you want 
me to say it?" she whispered.

Jaw clenched, he placed his hands on her hips, 
positioning himself against her hot, wet core.  "Say it."

She turned her head away, laying her cheek against 
the smooth surface, her fingers clutching the table 
edges in anticipation.  "Take me, Mulder."

He thrust into her sharply, hearing her cry out at the 
initial intrusion, but he didn't stop this time.  He 
couldn't.  Her body was like an exquisite silken vice, 
holding him so tightly that he thought he would die 
from the sheer pleasure of it.  

There was no preamble.  No easing their way into it.  
As soon as he felt her body yield to him, he began 
strong, deep movements within her.  Without her legs 
raised against him in response, her body was even 
tighter, increasing the intensity of sensations he found 
in her intimate embrace.

She couldn't meet his movements.  She'd been eager 
and deliciously responsive the first time they'd made 
love, but this time the tempo was his to command, and 
he was relentless, pushing them both to the limit with 
every thrust.  Each time he would nearly withdraw 
from her body, and each time he surged back even 
harder a second later.  His hands held firmly to her 
hips steadying her to the strength of his movements.  

Hard and fast, he drove into her, watching her hands 
tighten around the smooth wood.  Her knuckles 
whitened, and the table shook violently beneath them.

The sound of trembling glass and melting ice 
accentuated every move they made.  Mulder's empty 
glass was the first casualty, shimmying toward the 
edge of the tabletop and plunging over the side as the 
small flower arrangement waged a battle of its own.  A 
few inches beyond the top of Scully's head, the vase 
trembled with ever-increasing frenzy, water sloshing 
out from both sides as it pitched back and forth.  
Finally, it succumbed to the moment, toppling over. 
Flowers escaped one by one in time with Mulder's 
movements, rolling across the shaking wood,  a poetic 
accompaniment to every breathless moan of the 
woman whose body they surrounded.

"Oh God...Mulder..."

Scully slid her arms up further across the dark wooden 
slab, her hands still clutching the edges.  The stretch 
elongated her upper torso, causing her legs to clench 
together ever so slightly.  It was a small adjustment, 
but Mulder cried out from sheer rapture when he felt 
the inside of her body clench around him even tighter.  
He was gasping now with the force of every thrust, 
and she answered him each time with a soft moan of 
her own.

He felt his impending orgasm far too soon...long 
before he was ready.  But he had no more control over 
the approaching abyss than he had over his body's 
instinctive response to Dana Scully.  Some things 
were too powerful to fight, especially when defeat was 
meted out with sensations this exquisite.  A couple 
more thrusts and he came hard and fast, unable to 
stave off the climax any longer.  His entire body 
shuddered with overwhelming release.  Dazed, he 
held on, bending low over Scully to ride out the 
sensations, his chest pressed tightly against her bare 
back as he spent the last of his passion within her.

His own body began to still, the waves of orgasm 
receding slowly, but Scully continued to move beneath 
him, her soft moans telling him what he already 
knew...he'd left her hanging.  He hadn't been able to 
wait this time.  He kissed the back of her neck, so 
tantalizingly presented within reach of his lips, then 
pushed himself upright, breathing hard.  He withdrew 
from her body as he stood, legs trembling.  

Scully began to gather herself as he moved away from 
her.  Panting, she unclenched her hands and flexed 
them, forcing circulation to return.  She slid back 
toward him, smoothing her palms along the flat 
surface of the table into the spilled mixture of water 
and wildflowers.  He reached to help her, his hands 
sliding underneath her stomach from the sides, 
scooping her up from the table. He pulled her against 
him easily so that they were in a vertical spooned 
postion.

She was heavy in his arms, her body half-limp from 
stiffness and unfulfilled desire.  Allowing him to 
support her, she found her balance slowly, still 
shaking against him, fighting for the release he'd 
denied her.  She looked up, breathless, but the smile 
she gave him was beatific.

"Enjoy yourself?" she panted.

He shifted her weight to one arm and reached low with 
the other, threading his fingers through the damp hair 
between her legs. "Yes I did," he breathed.  "Now I get 
to finish enjoying you."

One finger slid inside, stroking the hot moisture deep 
within her.  She moaned loudly, the sound 
encouraging him to repeat the movement again, faster 
and harder.  When he did, her knees began to buckle.

Without breaking their position, Mulder inched 
cautiously backward, bringing Scully with him, until he 
felt the chair against the backs of his legs.  He sat, 
keeping his legs together and pulled her down to 
straddle his lap.  She leaned back, resting against his 
chest, her legs dangling on either side of his.  With no 
hesitation, she reached for his hand and pulled it low 
between her legs.

His fingers found her easily, but it wasn't enough.  The 
woman on his lap responded instantly to his every 
touch, but he wanted more for her.  He wanted her 
wild.  He wanted even more of her body's secrets 
exposed to his touch.  He moved his own legs apart, 
spreading them wide, forcing hers to open even wider 
around him.

When his fingers found her again, she screamed, 
throwing her head back against his shoulder.  This 
was what he had wanted. This was the image of his 
dreams.  Dana Scully, outside herself with passion, 
mindless from the feeling of his body, his hands, 
pressing against her...stroking...thrusting...

She came as forcefully as he had, crying out his 
name, and the sound broke over him like another 
fulfillment of his own passion.  To be responsible for 
that catch in her voice, the uncontrollable shaking of 
her head back and forth against his neck, was as 
satisfying as anything he'd ever known.  Dana Scully 
was not a woman who easily lowered the barriers that 
surrounded her.  To see her at her most vulnerable --
like this, with him -- was an experience he would 
treasure with perfect clarity until the day he died.

Ever so slowly, their infinitesimal world began to 
expand once more, letting in the images of reality that 
had discreetly kept their distance.  The world still 
existed, Mulder realized, though his perception of it 
was hazy, clouded no doubt by the luminescence of 
the red-haired beauty in his arms.

The beauty stretched contentedly.  "Wow."

He could only nod.

She looked down, a puzzled frown crossing her face.  
He followed the direction of her gaze.  In her left hand, 
she held a single camellia, still in one piece but 
slightly crumpled, showing tell tale signs of damage 
from its erotic journey from vase to table to chair.  

"What the..."

She looked toward the table, her eyes widening.  
Water and flowers were everywhere.  His glass of tea 
lay on the carpet in a soggy puddle of melting ice.  A 
rumpled pile of cotton consisting of a white shirt and a 
pair of Calvin Klein underwear completed the decor.  

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"  He expected her to comment on their 
destructive sexual rampage, but when she spoke, he 
found himself equally surprised.

"Why is my table all the way out in the hallway?"

He did a double take.

Sure enough, the table was a good three feet away 
from its normal position.  He couldn't suppress the 
laugh.  "I don't know, Scully, maybe it's just me...but I 
think we're pretty good at this."

She turned in his arms, her eyes sparkling as she 
offered him the crumpled flower.  "I'd have to say, 
Agent Mulder, that we definitely have our moments."


END


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