From: shirlock Date: Fri, 11 Jun 99 14:18:17 +0800 Subject: Association Games: Repost Title: Association Games (Re-posted 11 June 99) Author: Shirlock Rating: G (Pt 1); NC-17 (Part 2) Category: X/ C/ MS RST Spoilers: None. Summary: A serious headcase brings Mulder and Scully to New York and through the association game, introduces the daring duo to a means of connecting that is more revealing, more rewarding and infinitely more fun. Disclaimer: All characters except Ehrich Riis, belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. I'm borrowing only. No profit gained. Shameless advertising for the X-Files for anyone who reads this. Part 1/2 594, Broadway, Manhattan, The Alternative Museum. 2109 hours The pair were closing in on him and he knew it. He rubbed his chin and smiled knowingly. They were in the back of the musuem and from the corner monitor that flickered before him, their guns gleamed from the light of the street lamp on Prince Street. Her smaller figure hugged the south wall while he towered over a diminutive sculpture called "Persephone" by Adrian Walters. He rubbed his chin again and picked at a sore spot where the male agent had punched him three days ago. Mulder looked over to Scully and she sensed his thoughts. She shifted her eyes to catch the green flicker a confidence from behind his resolute mask. Her eyes told him as much. They both know Ehrich Riis was in the museum and he was playing the association game again. His last clue was "choice", which led them both to the Alternative Museum. Ehrich Riis was the resident curator. Only Mulder had an inkling where he was hiding. Mulder walked over to Scully and whispered, "Third floor. Don't get separated." Scully nodded, her hand reclasped onto her drawn weapon, her palm moist with gripping it too tightly. They traversed the narrow passage from one gallery to the next till they found a wooden stairway that led to the second floor. Mulder pressed a foot and creaked his way up. Scully watched and waited. Something didn't seem right but she didn't know what it was. It was a trap; the stairway beckoned them to certain death. She froze, her eyes sweeping the top of the landing then searched for any clues to Riis' hiding place. Mulder almost reached the top when he fell through the wooden step. "Mulder!" Her rapid footsteps brought her to the edge of the hole where a pair of large hands forced her to give up her weapon and locked her arms so that she couldn't move without her arm possibly dislocating from her shoulder. Mulder called from the darkened hole. The lights snapped on and Ehrich Riis rubbed his stubbly chin against the top of Scully's head. It illuminated the foyer and the gallery which housed strange avant-gardish sculptures made of glass and metals. And it spotlighted the bent-over figure of her partner sitting with his arm holding his right leg. He winced from the pain and from the harsh light. "Nice of you to *drop* in." Ehrich Riis spoke with a strong Dutch accent. His voice was deep, very rich and very cultured. Scully thought he smelt like Edam cheese and gum arabic. "You can't escape, Riis," Mulder stated. "I don't plan to." came the deep voice. Scully watched Mulder and knew instinctively something must have fractured in his leg the way he was sitting, nursing it and not getting up. "Let's play, Mulder.That's why you're here isn't it? That's why you came." Ehrich Riis pulled at Scully's arm making her grit her teeth. The sinews in her left arm seemed to be stretched to its limits. "Winner takes all.Hmm...you're lucky I love redheads." The association game. Mulder knew his game. They've been playing the game for three weeks. Riis had killed five men already. Winner takes all. Those words made him uneasy. He swollowed, trying to get up and managing to heave his entire weight onto his left foot. He was in a store room beneath the staircase. Large paintings were wrapped and placed by the walls. His mind raced. He had dropped his gun and without a weapon, there was no contingency for making mistakes. One false association and Scully will catch a bullet from her own gun. Probably in her heart. "Come on. I read your profile on me. Good stuff, actually. I was impressed." Riis smirked, pulling Scully's arm even harder. "Cold-hearted, huh? Think I'm cold-hearted enough to rip your pretty partner's arm out of the socket?" Mulder snapped his head up. He saw Scully looking up at the halogen light above, almost beatific like a sculpture he had once seen in London. "How do you want to play it, Riis?" Mulder said, affected. "Association game, Mulder. You know how it works. Ten steps. Let's see how well you know me. The answer to the game is the name of my Golden retriever. Get it right, I give in. You go home, shower, sleep, watch your vids, get your medals." Riis fingered the cold gun and shoved it up Scully's back. She was certain he was lying. There was no way out. Why hadn't backup arrived? Mulder stopped to think. Riis yanked at Scully's arm. The sound was loud enough to reach Mulder's ears. Scully's face contorted for a second; the crack sent missiles of pain signals up and down her left shoulder. She squeezed a tear out. The pain weakened her legs and she half sank to the ground. Ehrich Riis smiled patiently. "Tick, tick, tick." Riis clicked his tongue. "Don't hurt her!" Mulder shouted. "Stop it. Dammit. I'll play your damn game, Riis. " Mulder watched, waited. His stomach twisted much the same way Scully's did. "I'll start. Swedes." Mulder's eyes locked onto Ehrich Riis' reading them in its sockets. Scully's limp body strained to hear what Mulder was going to associate Swedes to. Her left arm hung by her side like a doll's arm might. She blinked back the pain. "Ingrid." "True blondes." Mulder watched Ehrich Riis' cold blue eyes and replied, "Glasses." "Good, Agent Mulder. You're very good. Artwork." Scully managed to reopen her eyes. She looked at Mulder and heard his mind work effortlessly. "Sculpture." Mulder's eyes narrowed, knowing he's being tested on a subject he knew little or nothing of. "1886." Mulder and Scully both knew they had seconds to live. Scully held her breath and kept chanting loudly in her head. "Rodin. Rodin. Rodin." "1886?" Mulder mouthed some words, but Ehrich Riis only raised his voice to tease,"what was that, Agent Mulder? Caravaggio, did you say? Bourgeois? Canova?" Scully opened her eyes wider, repeating the words in her head, willing it into Mulder's mind. "Rodin." Mulder said at last. "Rodin." Ehrich Riis looked genuinely surprised. He licked his lips and purred,"I'm not so sure I want to kill you now Agent Mulder. You made it to step eight. Nobody has ever. Done. That." Ehrich Riis bored the barrel of the gun into Scully's back, his voice deep, yet light. "The Kiss. If you can guess the name of my dog , I'll eat a bullet." Riis smirked, knowing full well that Mulder was a Psychology major. He toyed with Scully's red hair, stroking it while enjoying how the tall agent seemed to combat emotions to the mental challenge. Three seconds passed. Mulder's lips were drawn tight. Scully closed her eyes in defeat. "Your dog's name is...Claudia." Ehrich Riis had a strange expression on his face. Scully was spared from seeing it. Mulder wasn't so lucky. The face of a madman. A true madman. One who believed in winning and one who was so confident on winning that he never thought he would lose. "Claudia!" Ehrich Riis called. The dog's noisy barking could be heard in the distance. Somewhere in his office on the third floor. Scully held her breath. A single gunshot rang out. The sound of police sirens raided the night air. Mulder crashed to the floor, from fear, from exhaustion, from pure reflex, and from not wanting to know if Scully's blood was all over the museum floor. Grace Memorial Hospital 2255 hours. Mulder woke up, his right leg extended in a brace. He remembered everything in a flash. Scully! He whipped his head left and right to locate her. Odd faces. Men and women in white drifted about in the emergency room. No Scully. He started to feel the first signs of queasiness. "Nurse, nurse! " Mulder shouted, grabbing an intern pleading, "Agent Scully? Dana Scully. Is she here? Is she alright?" A policeman appeared from behind. "Agent Scully is fine. Relax. She's got a dislocated left shoulder. She's with the doctor now." Relieved, Mulder let the pain stab his body and happily dropped his head back with a smile on his face. The next morning Scully was there. He woke up and saw her face hovering over his. He smiled again. "Hi there," she said, softly. Her right hand rested upon his forehead. Her left arm was in an uncomfortable brace. It was held in a semi-permanent hands-on-her-hip position. "Hi." He wanted to grab her, pull her into his embrace until his eyes processed the visual information. "Should you be sitting up, Scully?" Mulder suddenly asked, pulling himself to lean on his bent elbows. "Better sitting up than lying in a coffin." came her retort. It was the truth, and he was glad he didn't have to attend her funeral. "Ehrich Riis is dead." Scully remarked. "He was true to his word, Mulder. He ate a 9mm bullet for supper." "That's a real madman, Scully." Mulder said. They remained silent for a while, each thinking of the same thing and not knowing how to put them in cohesive sentences. "How did you-" They both started, then dropped their heads grinning. "You first, Scully." "How did you know, Mulder?" Scully's voice betrayed her obvious awe in her partner. What he did, how he played the killer's game- Scully admired Mulder for his intuition, his perceptiveness. "I read his file, Scully. There's no mystery. Except-" "What?" Scully asked. "I didn't know the association to 1886." Mulder watched Scully's eyes. They were so blue, as if the window to her soul also communicated her thought behind the cobalt tint. "I thought it was Caravaggio, but I knew that wasn't it. Scully? I associated the game with you. I played you into the game as well." "Do you mean to say you read my mind, Mulder?" Scully's voice was even, but it was laced with incredulity. "Did you or did you not communicate Rodin to me?" Mulder asked, knowing the answer. "I can't be sure, but I sure as hell didn't know a Rodin from a rodent." "But how?" Scully shook her head. "Scully?" Her partner cocked his head to one side and tugged at her wrist. "So who's spooky now?" She let out a cough that sounded like a laugh. "So close, Mulder. It was too close. I can't tell you anymore than you can tell me how you knew. I knew the sculptor was Rodin because in 1886, Rodin's most famous marble sculpture was uncovered. The entire European world made pilgrimages to see it." "The Kiss, huh? Have you seen it?" "Yeah. I went backpacking in France after college." Mulder chuckled. His droopy eyelids held her attention. He suddenly laughed out loud. "When he said Kiss, I wanted to say rock band. I had no idea what he was associating that with. I never took Art History. I failed third grade drawing class, Scully. I can't draw a banana to save my life." "So how did you know his dog's name was Claudia?" "I only said Claudia because I caught the movie one night on TMC about Rodin's lover." "What?!" Scully balked. Her good arm completed the picture. Both arms were on her hips. "It was very good. Whassiname, Depardieu was in it. He was good." Mulder leaned back, enjoying how Scully couldn't find this all very X-Filish. "It's a good thing I watched it too, otherwise I would never have known who his muse was. Or what his mutt's name was." "Hopeless romantic," Scully said, her smooth face dimpled on her right cheek. Mulder replied gamely,"Pragmatist." Scully caught on. "Animal." "Primal." Their eyes betrayed their emotions and the hidden meanings that rose to the surface, buoyed by their indifference to all but each other.Mulder could sense Scully breaking into little giggles. But instead, Scully breathed deeply, closed her eyes for a fraction of a second before whispering, "Sucking." He reached for the back of her neck and gently massaged the tense flesh, pulling her closer to his face, drawing long deep breathes then whispering in her ear, "Lapping." "Blowing," she teased. "I dare you." Mulder's voice shrank to a whimper but his eyes were both hopeful and skeptical at the same time. Scully smiled, bringing her hand to stifle her raucous laughter bubbling from somewhere deep inside her. Mulder pulled her to an intimate embrace, careful to avoid hurting her shoulder. It felt so good to be alive. So good to be laughing. He didn't want to let her go. His leg was locked into a plaster cast but beneath the hospital gown he stiffened. Their embrace brought them physically close. The heat of her bosom set his chest ablaze. There was softness, roundness, fullness and no restriction of a brassiere. He pressed her closer until she said "Ow." "Sorry." Mulder said, releasing her. "I'd better go.I have to give my statement to the police." Scully pulled back. He saw her eyes searching for a spot to anchor on. Her face was beautiful. It was her shyness that singed her cheeks with colour and for some inexplicable reason Mulder wanted to touch them. He wanted to stroke her fair skin. His fingers wanted to get burnt. He savoured the moment of their embrace and the embarrassment he caused her. The awkwardness was soothing, because he understood they had that power to render the other awkward, uneasy. A slow burn began its threat to gather heat and consume their passion. But he saw the humour in their present situation. How could they possible get together? She had a shoulder brace on and his right leg was in a cast. Try making out without knocking the other person senseless. It was one of those things that always happened between them, none the wiser on how to get a grip on the situation. Control. It was always about control. Who had more. Why couldn't they trust each other enough to give up control. To lose control? Scully backed out of the room, catching a last glimpse of him smiling then saying, "hey, come up. See me sometime?" A few days later... Back in Washington D.C. Mulder sat in his apartment and reread the letter. It was official. Barred from work for two weeks. Paid leave though. Mulder sat in the middle of the sofa, bored out of his mind. He let it wander as it usually did these days. He thought of his partner. Her physical attributes. Small. Compact. Hot. Red. Lips. Wet. Warm. Soft. Ooooh! He smiled to himself and imagined Scully standing in front of him wearing nothing but the hospital gown. Sick! He told himself. Mentally, he switched the image of her to one dressed in a faded t-shirt. No, a man's shirt. No, his shirt. With a tie. She is wearing his pants. She is wearing men's shoes. His briefs. Hair. Wild. Abandoned. Sculptures. Scully. Model. Life drawing. His hand tracing her outline. Ridges of her eye brows. Nose. Lips. Chin. Jawline. Neck. Collar bone. Curves. Curves. Curves. Breasts. Oh breasts....He felt himself, eyes closed and hands running down his privates. Arms. Ribs. Back. Curves. Curves. Curves. Ass. Thigh. Cunt. Smell. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. What does Scully smell like? Her usual fragrance was something sweet. The phone rang shrilly, shattering every thought which flooded his five senses. His sixth sense told him it was Scully calling. "Mulder." He said breathlessly into the receiver. "It's me. What are you doing? Have you been watching your videos again?" "No, no. I was out running on my crutches." He could see her smile in his mind's eye. His hand groped about between his legs, smiling like an idiot and not being afraid of her finding out. "What are you doing?" "Nothing. I just got a letter from the office. I'm assuming you got something similiar?" "Forced vacation. Two weeks. Scully? Can I ask something?" No reply. "What do you smell like now?" "Par-don?" "I mean...what do you smell like now?" Scully had been bored. Suddenly this game sounded interesting, if nearly promising to be titillating, if anything. She lowered her voice, as if her neighbours might overhear. "Tea rose." "Aaah!" The image drifted back. Scully in the middle of a room, sitting like Rodin's model. Arms around her lover, lips locked in a passionate embrace. "Hmmm...tea rose." "Mulder? Where are you hands?" Scully instinctively knew. He stopped stroking himself and screwed up his face. "They're here. At the end of my arms, where they've always been." "Uh-huh. So what were you doing?" "I was just thinking of someone." "Uh-huh." Long pause. "Mulder, you want to come over and keep me company?" Oh, Scully wants to play. He looked down at his pants happily rubbing his engorged member then said, "Sure, we'd love to come over and keep you company." Oops, Freudian slip. Too late, Scully heard it. Pt 2/2 (children- bail out NOW!) Annapolis, Scully's apartment. 2030hours The cab driver had helped Mulder in to the cab and at the agent's insistence, kept his foot on the pedal till they neared her apartment. He got out and looked up. The front room was pitch black but there was a reading light on in the bedroom. It took him a long time to get up the short flight of stairs. Twice he almost tripped in his hurry. Mulder used his key. Everything he did brought his mind back to his association game. The key slid into the keyhole. Why was everything sexual? His crutches were in the way, but he hobbled in awkwardly. It was hard to manoevre the crutches. He flipped on the light switch on the table lamp. The yellow light flooded the living room. "Scully? It's me." From the bedroom her voice asked him to come in. The bedroom door creaked open and he entered her sanctuary. She sat in her bed, her arm still stuck to her hip. Her right hand holding onto a journal and a pen stuck in the middle pages. She wore the same hospital gown. But her face. There was something so warm about her face. So radiant. "How are you feeling?" He asked. "My shoulder's still sore all over." Mulder wondered why she hadn't changed out of her hospital gown when it hit him. "Your mom's out of town?" "Umm...How did you-" Scully looked down at her hospital gown. That kind of gave it away. "Did you eat?" "I had some leftovers. You can sit here, Mulder. You can put your foot up here. " She patted her bed. Mulder made a lewd face. "Trying to take advantage of me, Scully?" Scully raised her eyebrows, then frowned them together. "Yeah. You can't run and you can't hide. Ticklish, Mulder?" She took the sharp end of the ball point cap and scratched the sole of his fractured foot. Mulder tried to move his plaster cast as far as possible. He was ticklish. He started to laugh till he squinted tears out and pleaded for mercy. "Look at us, Scully. What is wrong with this picture? You can't even change out of your hospital gown and I can't scratch my right toe. We are sitting on your bed and frankly speaking, I'm feeling very... impotent." Scully smiled broadly. The word impotent was rather exaggerated as she glimpsed a big ole bulge coming from under his sweats pants. "So what shall we do? Talk?" Mulder sat facing her. Her head rested on the soft headerboard while he leaned on his left elbow, on the opposite end.They had a good view of one another. "Let's play the association game, Mulder." Scully folded her legs under her and pulled up her quilts. "Oooo, goody, Scully wants to play." Mulder felt game. "Maybe we'll find out some things about each other. I'll start." Long pause. "Prom." Scully's eyes did a short heavenward roll. "First kiss." "Uh huh, uh huh..." Mulder felt it was a good start, "Ten." "You kissed someone when you were ten?" Scully choked back her laughter. "Come on, no interrupting. Your turn." He studied her face, her eyes staring into the wardrobe. "Okay. Holiday, Hawaii." "Seafood." Mulder licked his lips. "Oysters." Scully said. "Necklace." "Hmmm...diamonds." "Okay," Mulder pondered, "best friend." "Fox Mulder. Definitely." Scully said simply. Mulder found a lump in his throat because she didn't hesitate. He smiled weakly then self-assessed, "Weirdo. Positively." "Brilliant." She corrected gently. Mulder blushed to Scully's surprise. She was enjoying it as much as he was. Mulder looked straight into her baby blues and said, "Your eyes." "Admiration." "Dana." Never a more opportune time to use her first name, Mulder thought. The room seemed to get hotter. The space between them tingling with an intangible electric. "Fearful." Scully confessed. "Truth." Mulder admitted. They sat there looking at each other in the dim light. Both not knowing how to play the next move. Both uncertain how to continue. Mulder's eyes softened, and Scully found new strength in them. "L-Love." Scully blinked once. Then twice. Mulder edged over to her side of the bed, cupped her head gently in his hands and leaned in slowly. He smelt the fragrance of tea rose and it made his head swim. His lips brushed hers and she felt something stir inside her. Her insides started to go soft, especially a sensitive area between her legs. Mulder sensed her reaction and moved in for the kill. "Hey Scully. Want to play another game?" Their lips parted against each others, and thus beginning a new game of associating. "What do you think I associate with love?" Cautiously slow, Mulder's tongue slipped out. Her teeth barred entrance for a second before she parted her lips. He tasted her. It was warm and moist. His mind zeroed in on another place he imagined might be nearly as warm and moist. He smiled into her mouth as she pushed her tongue against his, delving deeper into unexplored territory. There was the taste of strawberries and chocolates in her mouth. The fragrance of dessert wafted into a primitive recess in his mind and he sourced for the pleasure centre of her mouth. The sounds of arousal coupled with light gasping gently urged them to take the plunge. "Mulder-" She started, her penultimate chance before the chasm yawned beneath them, "we can't--" "Shhh..." He silenced her with his index finger and whispered into her ear,"we can." "Mulderrrr." Before she could protest, Mulder aimed for the delicate spot under her jawline. Her smooth pale skin was startlingly warm. He could almost hear her blood gushing through the jugular which beat against his lips. It was her life blood that coursed through those veins, giving her the impetus to live, and he'd be damned if he didn't let her know how much he wanted her to live to the fullest. How much of himself he wanted to offer her. His all. His wanted to pump more blood into her. His lifeblood. He sucked gently first, the heat of her skin permitting him, allowing lust to seep through his pores. Scully writhed beneath him, the weight making her shoulder grate into the brace, but the force of his sucking at that tender spot rendered her putty and incoherent. "Sssscully. I want you. I want you." He hissed into her ear, catching his breath and admiring the small mark of love on her skin. A tiny hickey. Her face was flushed, her pupils having dilated so that the blues of her eyes sank beneath the dark circles. They were full of desire and something else. He daren't think it, or misintepret it, but everything that looked back spelled love the way she had said it five minutes ago. She nodded, slowly comprehending. He slipped his hand up her gown, and she closed her eyes, acquiesed to his promise of more. His large hand cupped her right breast. It felt so very good her flesh being pumped in his manly hands. She didn't wear a bra. Couldn't, with her arm in that position. She felt it all coming together like a dream. His hands reaching, almost groping for her feverishly. His impatience was only understandable. There had been ample opportunity for him to reach out to her. Yes, six years of watching, waiting, restraining was enough. She was surprised he didn't simply rip the gown off. Mulder had wanted to. But he couldn't find it in himself to do anything to hurt her. Every step toward giving her pleasure had been calculated so that she would be distracted from the pain in her shoulder. He rubbed the tips of her nipples, drawing them taut and at attention to his every move towards eliciting the most in the least movement. He circled them, rubbed them inward, and squeezed them with an index and a thumb. Under his sweatpants his own member was distended and hard. He wanted to see her breast. He yearned to see them in the soft light. "Mulder," her voice was two octaves lower, and she sounded like she was pleading."Mulder-" "Yeah, Scully. Tell me. Tell me what you want." "I want," her voice grew husky, dripping with feminine desire. Her good hand snaked up behind her neck, tugging at the tie. He moved his hands to help, but his eyes pinned their attention on the clear blue eyes for they were telling him a story about a woman who was in love. A woman who was afraid of committing to that love, but was willing to try. Slowly, he pulled the front of the gown off. She lay there wearing only a white cotton underwear covering her most intimate part. Mulder bowed his head and clamped his mouth over the plum nipple like an infant would and suckled. The sensation washed over Scully, bathing her with tremors that shook her insides and turned them to jell-o. She arched her body back pushing her breast further into his mouth where he greedily sucked harder until the pain was diffused into pleasure that pushed her slowly but ever closer toward the edge. She ached from not being filled. Her right hand inched her way toward the centre of her core where her juices pooled around her throbbing lips in the nether region. She wet her lips and slip her good hand into her wet folds. The slicked sounds of fingers in her sex quickened Mulder's heartbeat. Mulder could smell her sex from where he nibbled. It smelt like honey. "Oh Scully," he groaned. "Mulder- can you? " He watched her like a hawk. Toyed with the fact that he had never heard her talk dirty. Toyed with idea that she might talk dirty to him now. "I need you here, Mulder-" Scully's face flushed from her arousal battling the need to be specific without being shy about asking it of her partner, plastered with the most amazingly innocent smirk. Then again, this was Scully, he thought. He couldn't wait for her to actually form the words. He might have found Samatha by then. "Where, Scully?" For a brief moment, Mulder enjoyed watching her squirm. He wanted to know her as a woman, not as a doctor, or investigator, partner, or friend. He wanted to hear her say the words as a woman who has needs, desires, wants, and he loved her for the fact that she seeked them from him. For the briefest moment, no one spoke. "Love me?" She breathed heavily, "fuck me." Her eyes wide with desire. Her fingers greased by the moisture overflowing moved fluidly up and down the lips beneath a white cotton underwear. Mulder grinned a grin he never knew he had the facial muscles for it. There's *talking dirty* and there's *dirty talk.* But when Scully asks to be fucked, he felt somebody just squeezed his dick. How could she possibly put the two most powerful words in the English language in the same sentence was beyond him. "Love" was all soft kisses and caresses. "Fuck" was well, hard and fast. He was transfixed on her movements. She knew how to please herself, watching her rub herself made his mind numb with pleasure. His mind fogged over the apparition. Suddenly he understood how he would have to discard his entire video collection. Nothing, absolutely nothing came close to how she's making him freak out with excitement. He doubted anything else would turn him on again. He watched and he learned. His photographic memory will serve him well. He smelt her. Tropical honey. Lush, rich and intoxicating. It was as mind-numbing as it was cock-hardening. All in her centre, dripping like an overripe nectarine waiting to be licked. He sent in his tongue and she parted her legs wide, spread eagle to accomodate his hunger. A primitive part of his brain reacted to her juices, sweetened to drug him into giving her anything and everything. Had she told him to go fly a kite, Mulder knew he would be scrounging about cutting newspapers and finding strings. He was acting on an instinct that was eons old. And he did nothing to stop it. He only had one desire and it was the one and the same as Dana Scully's. Love her? Fuck her. The only association he had to having loved her for so long was to actually getting down to doing it. *I am going down on Scully, I am going down on Scully, I am going down on Scully..." it was an eerie echo in his otherwise vacant mind. Gone on vacation, he mused. To paradise, he corrected. The continuous waves of pleasure started at a regular ebb, gradually escalating. He watched her beautiful face in the spasms of pleasure and ecstacy, her eyes suddenly opened to look him in his eyes. He froze momentarily, accepted the love and the gratefulness that surged from beneath those liquid blues, transcending him into a state that rocked him into safety. That lulled him into a peaceful pasture. One look. Mulder lost himself in her wetness, the wonders of knowing her this way. He craved her essence, her being, her spirit and she soared from under him. The orgasm went unchecked, once, twice. She came and she came and she came, calling his name in a burst of energy, but Mulder wouldn't let her stop. He wanted it to last forever until he felt hot, and warm and soaked in his pants. He had ejaculated the same time from empathy. Scully's heart raced for dear life, in order to pump the litre of blood out from a small warm place just below the pit of her stomach, to circulate to the rest of her needy body. Her limbs had gone limp and the rest of her body shut down to accomodate the sensations that geysered from the source. Ribbons of light danced from behind her eyelids, and her body floated in a liquid that seemed to buoy her into a fantasy. Only that fantasy was real. That fantasy crossed the threshold into reality, and her mind drifted into consciousness. Mulder stroked her glowing skin watching her "touch down" to earth. "Where have you been, my Scully?" It was a whisper. "I was three galaxies away, Mulder. Feel it." She placed his large hand over her left breast. The thudding reminded him of a runaway train. He placed his head there instead. There was this wonderful smell of milk coming from her nipples. They looked nutritious to Mulder. "Milk." He said. "Milk?" "I associate these with nourishment. With milk. They smell like they're stashed a pint of Scully milk in them." She smiled. Oh she smiled. There was this something about Scully that Mulder could never place. It had something to do with her smile. There were smiles and there was the Scully smile. It became clear as the blues in her eyes. It was a mixture of intimate joy, a portion of gratefulness, a sampling of tease and a pinch of humility. It was the recipe to his heart. "Mulder?" "Hmmm?" "Split milk." She was eyeing his stained sweat pants, smiling with an extra dose of wickedness. "Split milk?"He looked down embarrassed, "that, is proof. Undeniable proof that you can make me come without even trying." She leaned over and snapped the light switch off. In the cool darkness of her room, they snuggled closer together. "Scully?" "Hmm?" "What are you doing? " "I'm thirsty." Mulder grinned from ear to ear, but Scully didn't see it. She sensed it as she pulled his sweatpants down... End. Author's notes: First smutfic. Won't be the last. Thank you for all the feedback, I appreciate it.