From: Erinlee67@hotmail.com (Erin Habecker)
Date: 2000/02/29
Subject: xfc: First Person Perspective (FPS spoilers)
Source: atxc

From: "Erin Habecker" <Erinlee67@hotmail.com>

Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully do not belong to me. They 
belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Broadcasting Company, David Duchovney, and 
Gillian Anderson.

First Person Perspective (1 out of 2)
by Erin Lee (erinlee67@hotmail.com)
Classification: MSR, MS angst, UST
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Scully confronts Mulder about his irresponsible behavior. Follows 
First Person Shooter.


        Scully is silent as we walk out to the car and buckle ourselves in. 
She doesnt even say anything as she pulls out of the parking garage and 
starts to make her way to the highway. I allow myself to hope that she might 
just be so grateful Im all right that shell let this one drop.
        For about 30 seconds.
        Mulder, you are a complete, *unmitigated* asshole. Her eyes are fixed o
n 
the road, and cold as ice. She is sitting up ramrod straight, turning the 
wheel in vicious little jerks as if it is to blame for her anger. Just what 
in the *hell* were you thinking in there?
        I
 I begin, but shes not done.
         Thats entertainment. Thats *entertainment?* Is that all you have to 
say for yourself? Thats *entertainment?* She looks over at me for the 
first time, her eyes wide and blazing. Jesus, is she mad. Id better tread 
carefully; Scully grows a full set of claws and teeth when she gets like 
this.
        I was just trying to make light of it, Scully. I rub my hand across my 
face and wince. I am going to be ten shades of black and blue in the 
morning.
        Make light of *what*, exactly, Mulder? The fact that you almost got 
yourself killed in some idiotic display of manhood? By a leather- clad 
computer animation? You wanna make light of *that?*
        I grit my teeth. There is no talking to her. I was *trying* to apprehen
d a 
murderer. We have both taken risks to get a perp, Scully, thats practically 
in the job description.
        She jerks to a stop at a red light so abruptly that I am thrown against
 my 
seatbelt. My bruised and sore body protests, and I shoot her a nasty look. 
Im being immature and I know it, but Im hurt, Im tired, and instead of 
sinking into a nice soft bed I am being jerked around in the seat of a 
rental car and trying to justify myself to Scully. Again.
        What you did was out-of-line and it was completely unnecessary. Once th
e 
four of you were out of the game it could have been shut down. She was an 
electronic creation, Mulder, and she wouldnt have been able to escape the 
confines of her world. It wasnt necessary to go in and
 and try to 
eliminate her! And dont tell me you werent aware of that. Youre fairly 
intelligent
 most of the time, she adds through clenched teeth, and Im 
sure the powers of the on-off switch are completely within your grasp.
        Look
 Scully
 can we just drop it? I lean my head back against the seat 
and try to massage the stiffness out of my neck, as much to avoid her glare 
as to relieve my physical discomfort. Yes, it was probably stupid to do 
what I did. I know that now. I had about two seconds to make a decision and 
I just reacted. She was there and I went after her.
        She slams both of her hands against the steering wheel, hard. *Bullshit
!* 
You were enamored with that game from the beginning. And when you saw your 
chance to go out there and prove your manhood, you went for it- without a 
moments thought about the consequences.
        As you recall, I didnt exactly do a first rate job of proving my 
manhood,  I mutter quietly. Doesnt do much for the old testosterone 
levels, getting kicked around like that. Im hoping that she might crack a 
smile at this- shes usually a little smug when I end up badly out of my 
element and she can come and save my butt, though she tries not to show it. 
But her expression remains frozen.
        Thats right. You were in way over your head. And you didnt realize that
 
until there was no turning back. What would you have done if we hadnt been 
able to re-access the game and get me into it? And what could *we* have 
done? But you didnt give it a second thought. Im tired of it, Mulder. Her 
voice is strained and I suddenly catch a glimpse of the scare shes had. To 
me, the whole situation was so ludicrous that I had trouble taking it 
seriously, even when I really thought I was going to get killed. But it was 
obviously all too real to Scully, who was on the outside. I am suddenly 
ashamed of myself, and then I am even angrier at her for making me feel that 
way. Im tired of your callous disregard for your own life. Im tired of 
you going off on your own quests and leaving me to pick up the pieces and 
trail along after you. Im tired of having to watch you risk everything and 
not be able to make a damn difference in whether you live or die. Your 
actions were stupid, selfish and utterly unprofessional, and I am fucking 
sick of it!
        Weve pulled up at the hotel during her rant and my only response is to 
get 
out of the car, slam the door behind me, and start digging for my key as I 
walk away. I feel utterly wretched. The only thing I want is to get into my 
own room, close the door, and calm myself down. I will find a way to deal 
with Scully later, but not now. Not when we are both so raw; I cant deal 
with it. But she intercepts me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I jerk away 
and she steps in front of me, restraining me with a hand against my chest. I 
chance a look into her face and meet eyes that are blazing white hot with 
anger. Ouch. I wince and redirect my gaze towards my feet. No, Mulder, 
youre coming with me. I want to clean you up a little bit and check you 
over.
        Why bother? I spit at her. Youre sick of taking care of me, remember?
        Come inside. Her voice is soft, suddenly, and very cold. Thats Scully, 
all right, I think to myself angrily. First come off all self righteous, and 
then shut down when you get challenged. Just what I need to deal with. I 
follow her into her room and then turn on her once the door is shut.
        All right, Scully, what do you want me to say? Im shouting at her and i
t 
feels painfully satisfying, like picking a scab or pulling on a hangnail. 
Im sorry Im such a selfish asshole. Im sorry to be an inconvenience and 
a burden to you, Im sorry that you always have to be making excuses and 
risking yourself for your idiotic partner, I take a deep breath and then 
continue, my voice ragged, and I am sorry that I came into your life and 
fucked it up so much in the first place! Jesus. That hurt. She reels as if 
Ive slapped her. I turn away blindly, unable to meet those ice blue eyes 
anymore, looking for an escape.
        But again, she wont let me go. I feel her hands on my shoulder and the 
back of my jacket as she forcibly turns me back around. I go passively and 
then stare stubbornly at the ground, unwilling to meet her eyes. And then 
abruptly, her hands are on my cheeks and she lifts my gaze even with hers. 
God, Mulder, she whispers brokenly. Dont you get it? I dont want you 
out of my life. I dont know what I would do if you were gone. She is 
crying now, though she is struggling against it, trying to keep her voice 
from trembling and blinking rapidly. I had to watch you fighting for your 
life today, and there was nothing I could do. I almost lost you
 she gulps 
a watery breath and then continues, in a mindless computer game, for gods 
sake! It would have been totally pointless, but youd be gone. Your life 
wasted. And for what? You may not think your life is valuable enough to be 
careful with
 but I do. Dont you remember how you felt after I was 
abducted, and, and when I was fighting my cancer, when you had to stand by 
and watch me fighting for my life? Thats how I feel when you leave me 
behind. Dont you consider
 another tearing breath, that you might mean at 
least as much to me as I do to you? And Mulder, she abruptly runs one hand 
down her face to dry her tears and laughs humorlessly, I know that if I 
took a stupid risk like that you would have kicked my ass into next Tuesday 
before wed even gotten out of the building.
        Good christ. I really am an asshole.
        Aw, Scully, come here. I pull her to me she wraps her arms around my 
ribs, tight. My sore body protests, but this is another good kind of pain. 
The best. I hold her as her shoulders hitch a few more times and then she 
gulps and stills, her head still buried in my chest. Reaching one arm up to 
stroke her hair, I tell her, Im sorry. Im really sorry; it was a dumb 
thing to do. I *am* an asshole, I murmur into her shoulder.
        No, Mulder, youre not an asshole. Her voice is muffled against my shirt
.
        All right. Maybe not an asshole, but a class A jerk. I pull away slight
ly 
and smile at her, and feel a huge weight pull free in my chest when she 
smiles back. Its going to be okay.
        Well
 maybe Ill give you that. There is a teasing lilt in her voice and 
she tilts her head appraisingly.  If you let me take you to dinner. Shes 
extending the olive branch. Her eyes have finally defrosted and Im glad to 
see it.
        Do I get to pick the restaurant?
        Well, arent you the man?
        I grin at her. You got yourself a date. Maybe if youre lucky Ill even 
shower first.
        She pushes me away gently, grinning herself. Oh, the anticipation. Go g
et 
yourself cleaned up and then let me take a look at your war wounds.
        I start for the door that connects her room to mine, and then turn back
, 
grabbing a hand towel and holding it underneath the cold water tap of her 
sink for a few seconds. She cocks an eyebrow quizzically at me as I advance 
on her and take her chin in my hand. Then her eyes go soft as I run the damp 
cloth down one cheek, and then the other. Tearmarks, I explain, feeling a 
little silly.
        Thank you, Mulder. She puts the back of her hand briefly against my che
ek 
and then turns away, busying herself with her suitcase. I throw the damp 
towel on the rack and go to take my shower and dress for my date.

*To be continued!

*Author's note: OK, this is the follow-up to First Person Persprective part 
1 that I posted earlier this week. It's quite a bit longer but lots of fun. 
I got all the angst out in the first bit and this is like cotton candy for 
the mind- light and fluffy and sweeet. I wouldn't say that M and S are 
acting completely in character here, just because it's going to take a lot 
more than a fun evening and an impulse to get them into bed at this point. 
But I couldn't resist. :-)*I would really appreciate feedback* as this is my 
first completed fanfic (!) and I would like to know how people respond. I 
hope you enjoy it!

Title: First Person Perspective (2/2)
Author: Erin Lee Habecker (erinlee67@hotmail.com)
Classification: MSR
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Chris 
Carter, 1013 Broadcasting Company, David Duchovney, and Gillian Anderson.
Spoilers: FPS and Closure
Feedback: Yes please! erinlee67@hotmail.com
Summary: A dinner date and a playful wrestling match in a hotel room- I 
wonder what's gonna happen? (And who will end up on top:-) )


	Mulder has dragged me to a fairly classy Italian place,
despite the fact that neither of us is really dressed for it. I
surprised myself by putting away most of my lasagna; as the backwash
of adrenaline that flooded my system from our fight with the computer
game from hell dissipated I felt drained and ravenously hungry. But
now as I rest my chin on my folded hands and watch Mulder rapidly
shoveling away the last of my dinner by the light of our denuded
candle, I feel a pleasant tingling warmth spreading outward from my
belly that has a little to do with the wine and a little to do with
the company.
	He looks up at me through his last mouthful. His eyes in the
soft light are a rich honey brown. "Hey, are you going to want
desert?"
	"No, Mulder, I'm good."
	"C'mon, Scully." He taps the edge of the menu against his
cheek and raises his eyebrows at me. "Not just chocolate cake, but
*chocolate* chocolate."
	"Mulder, if I eat anymore, I'm gonna be sick. Really. That was
a lot of pasta." I pause reflectively, then, with a smile playing
about my mouth, "Did you say *chocolate* chocolate?"
	He chuckles at me from deep in his throat. "We'll get it to
go." He flags down the waiter while I sip the last of my wine and
discreetly lick a smear of marinara sauce from my index finger. Mulder
continues to amaze me. He is one of the most extraordinarily
perceptive men I've ever met; there are times when I swear he must be
reading my thoughts. And then there are times when he can be a
complete and utter bonehead, oblivious of everyone but himself. Like
today. Definitely today. I can't recall being so angry with him since
his little tryst with Diana Fowley last year.
	*Don't dredge up old grudges*, I chide myself. *You'll ruin a
perfectly good time*. And I am having a good time, remarkably good.
Charming Mulder has put in an appearance. And after our shouting match
earlier, I never expected to be enjoying myself tonight.
	*Maybe we ought to scream at eachother more often,* I muse. Mulder and I 
usually fight coldly; biting remarks interspersed with long, uncomfortable 
silences. Calculated to hurt- and it does. It leaves me feeling raw and 
bitter, and it takes us both a long time to heal. Not so tonight.
	He catches me watching him and pulls a suggestive face. "See anything you 
like?"
	"Oh... sorry. My mind was wandering."
	"Somewhere good, I hope," he quips.
	"Oh, yeah, Mulder. You, me, a bottle of tequila and a moonlit beach in 
Tihuana." I flash him a seductive smile and relish the look on his face. 
Well, what the hell. He shouldn't be the one who gets to make all of the 
suggestive remarks.
	After he closes his mouth, Mulder breaks into a wide grin. "Aren't you 
getting a little ahead of yourself, Doctor Scully? This is only our first 
date, after all."
	*Is that what this is?*
	"Well, a girl can dream, can't she?" We are both trying very hard not to be 
the one to laugh first.
	He tries to pull his face together and wipe the grin off his face, fails, 
and settles for looking me up and down suggestively with the corners of his 
mouth twitching. "Hmm. I don't know about the beach, but moonlight and a 
bottle of tequila can definitely be arranged. How's about you come on back 
to my place and we'll make a few waves of our own, if you get my drift." 
Perfect. He's got his college fraternity boy act down pat.
	I can't help it, I start to giggle. "Now *you're* getting ahead of 
yourself. In your dreams, Agent Mulder."
	He laughs then, a deep and genuine belly laugh that is good to hear. He 
doesn't laugh like that often enough. "I thought we were in yours."
	I give him my best innocent "who, me?" smile and he answers it with a grin 
that positively drips lewdness. *All right, Mulder, I fold. You are the 
undisputed king of innuendo.* We are still chuckling quietly when the cake 
arrives. I try to grab the check but he slides it smoothly over to his side 
of the table and covers it with his palm. "Sorry. This is one of the 
official duties of the alpha male."
	"You think you're the *alpha* male?"
	"Well..." he signs the receipt with a flourish, "In present company, anyway."
	I rise and grab my coat, as well as the box holding our cake. Wouldn't do 
to forget that. "Let me just remind you who *(cough, female)* came to whose 
rescue this afternoon when you were getting your *(cough, male)* butt kicked 
by your *(cough, female)* adversary."
	He stops in the middle of putting on his coat and turns to me, a hurt look 
on his face that I'm almost sure is feigned. I answer him with a tight- 
lipped smile. If my saying that really does bother him, well, he can just 
deal with it. He scared the hell out of me today. He frowns. "Hey, that was 
not exactly your ordinary run-of-the-mill woman we were dealing with."
	"Nope. You're absolutely right, Mulder. Forget I said anything."
	We walk to the door of the restaurant, and he looks at me again as we go 
through. "She was a computerized character. Superhuman strength and speed. 
Programmed to kill."
	"I agree, Mulder."
	"I mean, there was nothing that I could have done."
	"I realize that, Mulder."
	Our shoes crunch on the gravel drive of the restaurant as we make our way 
to the car. Mulder doesn't say anything, but I know him well enough to 
realize that the silence is probably going to be short lived. And he proves 
me right as he leans an elbow on the roof of our current rental and regards 
me over it, his eyes appraising. "I didn't see you going hand-to-hand with 
her, Scully."
	"I didn't really get a chance, Mulder." I smile a small, gently teasing 
smile. "I *was* smart enough not to lose my gun."
	We take our seats and close our doors. Mulder buckles his seatbelt, and 
then makes a point of looking me up and down. "So, are you saying that you 
would've done better?"
	"Maybe."
	He laughs incredulously. "And just where do you get the justification to 
make a claim like that?"
	I feel a bit disgruntled. "Mulder, I am a black belt in karate and I've 
taken any number of self defense classes. Not to mention that I actually 
paid attention to what they taught us at Quantico. I'm not saying that you 
can't hold your own during a fight, but you've never really had much formal 
training. You're strength makes up for that to a certain extent, but I don't 
like the implication that just because I'm a woman I must necessarily be 
inferior to you where defending myself is concerned."
	 Mulder starts the car and begins to back out, not saying anything until we 
have reached the street. When he speaks, his eyes are forward and his voice 
light and speculative. "So, Miss Kung fu, you're saying you could have 
kicked her butt?"
	I grin widely. I can't resist. "Maybe not hers, Mulder, but I could 
certainly kick yours."
	We've stopped at a light and he turns to face me squarely, his expression 
utterly deadpan. "Is that *right?*"
	"Mmm hmm."
	Silence descends for several minutes. We are pulling up at the hotel when 
he says, "Well, I just don't know if I can let a challenge like that go 
unanswered."
	"What do you mean by that?"
	"You and me, Scully. My room. Right now." He smacks his fist lightly into 
his palm for emphasis and smiles slightly. "Let's go."
	"You want to *fight* me?"
	"I just want to show you what I've got."
	 I raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure you're up to this?"
	"What's the matter, Scully? Afraid to put your money where your mouth is?"
	"I just wouldn't want to have to hurt you."
	"I'm up to it..." he leans in, his face inches from mine, "if you are."
	Men. I swear. Sometimes Mulder is a male through and through. We both get 
out of the car and I turn to face him. "All right. Let's do it. My room, 
though. I think it's distinctly less cluttered."
	He steps aside as I unlock the door. "You're digging your own grave, 
G-Woman."
	I simply smile and hold the door for him. Wrestling with Mulder, huh? This 
could be interesting. Once inside, I regard the two queen sized beds with 
dismay. "You know, Mulder, there's not a whole lot of floor space."
	"Piece of cake." He grabs the edge of one of the beds and begins dragging 
it towards the door, managing to tuck it in between the TV and the wall. He 
stands and flexes his muscles for show. "Did that manly display of strength 
strike fear into your heart?"
	I snort a laugh. "Just don't tire yourself out."
	"Oh, Scully." He removes his coat with a flourish and drops it on the 
transplanted bed, grinning widely. "The fun's just beginning."
	I remove my own coat and survey the newly cleared area. We have an area of 
floor about seven feet wide and twelve feet long to play in. I remove my 
shoes and roll up my sleeves, turning to face my opponent. "All right, 
Mulder. Bring it on."
	He laughs and closes the distance between us. He makes a grab for my arm 
and I swiftly latch onto his wrist, twisting my body at the same time so 
that his arm is pulled over my shoulder. I jerk forward and he stumbles, off 
balance, but then dances around to face me and pulls free. "You getting 
nervous yet?" I ask him. "Cause you know we can stop anytime."
	"Just getting warmed up, Scully."
	The next time he reaches for me he feints with one hand, and then grabs my 
wrist with the other when I reach for it. I am pulled suddenly into his 
chest with my arm held firmly behind me. I let my knees go limp and pull him 
with me to the floor, rolling away from him as he puts his hand down to 
break his fall. Before he can recover I pull on his braced arm and it 
buckles, spilling him onto his shoulder. He is quick, though, and grabs the 
back of my thigh so that I go down on my elbows. With one abrupt movement he 
is on top of me, holding my arms at my sides while he uses the weight of his 
body to keep me from moving. "This is why it's good to be a big strong man, 
Scully," he comments, his face close to mine.
	Uh-uh. No way in hell am I going down now. I poke him in the side and he 
yelps a laugh, pulling back just slightly, but enough. Taking advantage of 
his temporary confusion, I roll us both over and then regain my feet. He 
follows suit and we face off again, grinning and breathing hard.
	"No fair tickling, Scully," he informs me.
	I smirk at him. "Always use the opponent's weaknesses to your advantage."
	"You're going down, FBI woman. I almost had you there."
	"You had nothing."
	"Oh, yeah. I had you big time."
	I grin at him, suddenly, a grin that stretches my cheeks and makes my eyes 
crinkle. I am happier in this moment than I've been in months, an 
extraordinarily uncomplicated happiness that strikes me like a ray of 
sunshine. Mulder and I have seen so much darkness recently; his illness, the 
death of his mother and the discovery of his sister's death, the 
reappearance of Pfaster and his attempt on my life. It seems like it has 
been ages since we have allowed ourselves the luxury of laughter and play. 
Across from me, Mulder, with his hair tousled and his sleeves rolled up, 
grinning and shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, looks all of 
twelve years old. He is beautiful when he smiles like that; I wish abruptly 
and fiercely that he could have been spared the trials that are the cause of 
his considerable grief and guilt. That he hadn't been cut so deeply by what 
has been done to him. That he could more often permit himself to smile the 
way he's smiling now. I wish that with all my heart.
	"That's my line," I murmur.
	"You wanna make something of it?"
	"Gladly." I launch myself at him, hoping to catch him off guard, but he is 
expecting me and sidesteps, letting my momentum carry me past him- whereupon 
he moves in behind me and pins my arms against my belly. My back is flush up 
against his stomach and he is practically draped over my frame. Engulfing 
me. He smells good, I think irreverently. I work my leg around behind his 
ankle and jerk; his leg goes out from under him and we both fall to the 
ground with a muffled "Oomph." Swiftly, I roll on top of him so that his 
torso is caught between my thighs and my arms are holding his shoulders 
down. "Gotcha," I tell him with a smile. "Game over."
	He shakes his head. "It's not official until you count to three."
	"One." He lies passively beneath me, not trying to free himself. My stomach 
flutters a little and I wonder why. Well. There is the fact of a certain 
pair of dark hazel eyes, pupils dilating as I speak, inches from my own. I 
pull my mind off of *that* path quickly. "Two." I don't think he noticed the 
tremble in my voice. "Thr-"
	His movement is so sudden that I think he is trying to get away, and I 
tighten my thighs around him in response. But he simply wraps a hand around 
the back of my neck, raises himself up on his other elbow, and lowers my 
mouth to his.
	After the initial rough gesture that he used to bring us together, Mulder's 
lips are soft, gentle but demanding. We fit together perfectly. He tastes of 
dark, rich things: the wine from our meal, the salty shells of his sunflower 
seeds, maleness. Essence. *Mulder is kissing me,* I think, vaguely 
surprised. And I am kissing him back. It seems like it should have been 
harder than this.
	He pulls back as abruptly as he came and looks at me hard, a hint of 
challenge in the darkness of his eyes and the set of his jaw. My mind seems 
to be clamoring at me to get up, retreat, analyze, *think* about this, for 
god's sake. A thousand little voices wake up and demand attention; doubts, 
anxieties, fears. A thousand reasons.
	*And to hell with them all.* There will be time to let our concerns in 
later, and I'm sure he has plenty of his own. But if we stop now out of 
fear, we won't try it again. And fear is not a good enough reason to keep us 
apart. Not anymore. There are some places where science and logic does fall 
short; if Mulder's taught me anything, he's taught me that.
	"Three," I say out loud. "You're mine, Mulder." And I kiss him again.
	I admit to having been utterly entranced by Mulder's mouth. The way it is 
constantly moving, worrying at a seed or a toothpick. The way he uses it to 
explore the tactile surfaces of his cups and silverware. His slightly 
oversized lips have drifted in and out of my fantasies throughout the last 
seven years- all right, mostly in, if I have to be perfectly honest. So I've 
imagined kissing Mulder, yes, okay. It's a perfectly healthy and harmless 
pursuit. But the real Mulder does have a lot to live up to. Which he seems 
to be doing very nicely, thank you. Perhaps our deepest fantasies don't lose 
touch with reality when you know so intimately the person involved. For me, 
kissing Mulder feels almost familiar, deliciously so. Our lips slide gently 
over one another, exploring and tugging. There is something preciously 
intimate in these tentative first moments, but the ache in my throat soon 
gives way to the ache low in my belly and I pull him in deeper, sliding my 
tongue across the inside of his cheek, giving and receiving. He wraps one 
arm around my lower back, slings the other high across my shoulders, and 
rolls us both so that we end up with me looking up at him and his hips 
cradled securely between my thighs. He thrusts against me once and I moan 
low in my throat; his response is a sharp intake of breath through his nose 
followed by a sighed exhalation. There is no mistaking what I feel pushing 
against the crotch of my black dress pants, and I feel a wave of unreality 
wash over me. This is Mulder. *Mulder.* I did that to him. I made him feel 
this way. He is becoming my lover. Mulder, my partner. My lover.
My Mulder.
He releases my mouth and looks down at me. All I can see is his face, his 
shoulders, a little of his chest. And I can feel nothing but his body; he 
covers me completely.
"Hey Scully." His eyes are brown and green and liquid. His face is flushed 
and his mouth is moist.
"Yeah?"
"What do you say we go best out of three?"
"You really want to take me on, Mulder?" I know there is more behind my 
words than meets the eye. I can't help it. As much as I want to simply act 
and feel, I have to know things. That's an inherent part of me. And I need 
to know that, even if we don't think about tomorrow now, we will. I need to 
know that there will be a tomorrow.
The expression on his face makes him look five years younger. "If you'll let 
me."
I wrap my arms and legs around him and lay my face against his shoulder. I 
need to be touching him, as completely as I can, though I am limited by our 
clothes. And our fears. And our deceptions. And our anger. And our tears. I 
need to be holding him despite those things, and through them, as if my arms 
and my lips could trap them and blow them away. "You can take me anywhere."
"Scully..." he lifts us both from the floor and supports me effortlessly, my 
limbs twined about his body in my fierceness and passion and need. I never 
want to let go. I fought too hard to get here, and it feels so good to be 
here. But he lowers us to the bed and his hands are doing other things, so I 
set out to prove that I can dish it out as well as I can take it. I feel the 
rustle of fabric underneath my fingers; I hear the rasp and sigh of our 
clothed bodies moving against eachother in addition to our own sighs. He is 
rocking his pelvis against me and he moans into my mouth, the vibrations 
sending a shudder down my spine. My hands work the hem of his shirt out of 
the waist of his pants and I am touching smooth skin finally, running my 
nails lightly up his back from base to shoulder blades and then rubbing back 
down in little circles with my open palms. His mouth doesn't leave mine, but 
he's gotten my blouse most of the way unbuttoned and he slides a hand 
underneath to cup my breast while the other strokes in rough, tantalizing 
circles on my lower belly. He explores the slope and curve of my breast with 
fingertips and open palm, finally squeezing my nipple between two fingers 
and then cupping me fully, beginning to move his hand so that it mimics the 
movement of the other on my belly. I bite my lip and hiss air through my 
teeth. I am delighted that we are proving to be so good at this. Without 
ceasing the maddening rocking of his hips, Mulder pulls his torso back from 
mine and draws my blouse down my shoulders and off in one smooth movement. 
Before allowing him back I unbutton his dress shirt, slowly and 
deliberately, starting with the cuffs of his sleeves and ending with the 
button closest to the waistband of his pants. *And since I'm down here 
anyway*.... He pins my eyes with his as I slip a hand between us and cup him 
through the fabric, tracing the feel of his rigid erection with my open 
palm. His eyes slide shut and he thrusts against me. "Ahh, Scully..."
"Like that?"
"Mmm. Yeah. Just like that."
His hands begin to move against me again as I stroke him, and I am lost in 
my over-stimulated senses, all higher thought for the moment banished. There 
is only the movement of his hand on my breast, on my belly, between my legs; 
the feel of his lips and teeth against my neck, my shoulder, behind my ear; 
and his barely contained thrusts under my palm. There is something primal 
and incredibly arousing in the feel of his stiffness as I stroke him; I am 
heady with the sensation. He is making little noises low in his throat. 
Suddenly his hips jerk against me, hard, and he reaches down with a groan 
and stills my hand. "You better stop that, Scully. At least, if you want 
this to last longer than another ten seconds." He grins wryly.
I look up, still touching him, an unspoken question in my eyes which I'm 
sure he can read. He shakes his head with a little smile. "Uh-uh. I want a 
turn." And he lifts his body from mine, moving down the bed so he can pull 
off my pants. My underwear come next, and then he works at the clip on my 
bra with intimate care, not touching my skin at all. When he's disposed of 
it, he leans back on his haunches and simply looks at me with an intensity 
that makes me flush a little. I am aware that our bared skin is glowing gold 
from the lamplight, and that the planes of his face and the muscles of his 
torso have been thrown into sharp relief by the light and shadow.
I manage a faint smile and bite my lower lip gently. I am suddenly nervous, 
wanting to tremble, determined not to betray myself. *God, are we really 
doing this?* "See anything you like?" I ask him, mimicking his words earlier 
in the evening, trying to keep my voice light.
"Only everywhere I look." His voice is hoarse and enchanted. He darts his 
tongue over his lips and suddenly I feel a lot better. "God, Scully, you are 
beautiful. I always imagined..." he breaks off and averts his gaze from mine, 
coloring a little.
"Mulder, are you saying that you've pictured me naked before? I'm utterly 
shocked and blown away. I never thought that you were the kind of man to 
revel in such lewd thoughts." *And I said that with a straight face,* I 
think proudly.
He grins at me and leans down, kissing me roughly before drawing away. 
"Well, look at it this way. I've had time to picture it..." he nuzzles the 
underside of my jaw and plants little kisses along my neck, nipping at the 
more sensitive spots. I stifle a yelp. "... go over it in great, imaginative 
detail..." he captures my nipple in his mouth so suddenly that the increase in 
sensation takes my breath away. "...plan it out..." he pushes his nose against 
the underside of my breast and tastes the perspiration there. Then he works 
his way down my torso with lips and tongue, looking up at me finally with 
his chin in the curls at the apex of my thighs. I gaze back at him with 
heavy lids. I feel languid and heavy with the ache in my breasts, my belly, 
and... well... down where he is. Especially down there. I moan and twine my 
hands in his hair, urging him downward. He jerks a corner of his mouth 
upward and finishes his sentence: "and decide exactly what I'm going to do 
to you."
With that he begins to explore between my legs with his lips, and then his 
tongue, and any reply I might have had is rapidly lost in the assault of my 
charging sensations. Mulder rubs against my lower belly with one hand and 
uses the other to thrust a finger deep inside me, rhythmically, while his 
tongue circles my clit. I climax with an almost painful suddenness, like the 
breaking of a branch. He stills his movements as I shudder around him with 
harsh pants and hands that clutch at handfuls of his hair. "Mmm, ah, 
Mulder..." can this be me making these noises? Can this be him, moving up 
beside me and leaning his face into my shoulder, breathing hard, erection 
pressing urgently into my leg through his pants? His tossed brown hair, his 
beautiful eyelashes and shoulders and thighs and moist lips? I am 
deliriously happy. I draw his face to me and kiss his closed eyes, the 
corner of his mouth, the sensitive spot underneath the curve of his jawbone.
He moves over me again, running one of his hands up and down my torso from 
my breasts to my hips while the other simply cradles my cheek in his as we 
gaze at eachother. Then I reach down to undo his fly and push his pants away 
from his hips. He takes over and pulls them and his boxers off and away. He 
fits his body against mine and the feel of skin on skin steals our breath. I 
take the base of his cock in my hand and look at him questioningly. He 
laughs suddenly, quietly, shaking his head and sliding his hand up beside 
the other so that he is cupping my face. "What?" I inquire with a small 
smile.
"Are we really going to do this, Scully?"
"Sure feels that way."
With that his eyes go smoky and dark and he pushes against me as I guide him 
in.
Mulder fills me, it is the only way I can possibly describe it. His 
penetration is deeply satisfying in and of itself while at the same time 
igniting a timeless yearning that spreads through me like a brush fire. I 
look up at him and capture his eyes. His only comment is a breathy, "Ahh, 
Scully. Scully."
  "Mulder, I love you." The words come out in a rush. I wish I could make 
them sound less contrived. I know that Mulder knows... but I know Mulder also 
needs to hear it.
He draws back from me a little and looks at me hard, his gaze unreadable. He 
is still motionless inside me. "Really?"
I lick my lips. I should have said it before. "Yeah."
"You're not just saying it?" He looks down at our intertwined bodies and 
smiles wryly, but it looks strained. "You know, in the heat of the moment?"
"No, Mulder, I'm not just saying it. I've known for a long time." The words 
feel stiff and stale; I know they fall short of expressing what's inside me. 
So I try with my eyes. *Mulder, you are everything to me.* I can see he 
believes when his eyes clear and he smiles like a kid on Christmas morning: 
amazed and excited and happy. Open and uncomplicated. *Oh, Mulder, I hope it 
stays this easy.*
He buries his face in my neck and sighs one long, slow breath: in... out. 
"Good. That's... that's good, Scully. I..."
"I know." I cut him off. Because I do know. And because if he doesn't start 
moving soon, I'm gonna implode. I rock my hips against him, urging, 
encouraging.
He lifts his face and begins to kiss me rather seriously as his arms wrap 
themselves around my shoulders and waist and he begins to thrust in slow 
full moves that keep time with the pleasure rising and ebbing inside me. In, 
out; up, down. Circular and mysterious and beautiful, with every peak 
reaching a little bit higher and the tensions tightening inside me to a 
frightening frequency. I have no words to express our timeless ancient 
dance, to possibly convey what the slip and friction of our coupling, the 
little wet noises that accompany it, the stroke of his skin on mine, and the 
sounds Mulder is making do to me. I am going to fly apart like an over-wound 
spring. "Mulder... oh, oh... come with me, Mulder..."
"Love you, Scully. Ah, god... you... you..." He draws a giant, rapid breath and 
the spasm of his hips as he comes sends me over the edge once more. I dig my 
fingers into his sweat- slickened back and ride the waves with him until we 
cycle down to our rapid pulses and slowing pants and find eachother's faces 
with our hands. I feel like we have been swept up and carried and finally 
laid down here to sink into eachother with the sound of our hearts pounding 
in our ears like the surf.
"Hey, Scully," he murmurs sometime later.
"Hmm?"
He props himself up on one elbow and strokes my cheek with the back of his 
hand. His face is sweaty and he is smiling a tender inscrutible smile that 
engenders an uncomfortable lump in my throat. I swallow around it and blink 
my eyes rapidly. *Come on, Agent Scully. No need to get all misty-eyed.* He 
chuckles suddenly and asks me in a low, throaty voice, "Who won that one?"
"Mmm. Hmm." I laugh quietly through my nose. "I think it was a tie."
He pulls me closer into him and leans his head against my sternum, tucked 
underneath my chin. I touch his hair, the back of his neck, the small of his 
back; exploring, glancing, gentle touches. "You know the thing about ties," 
he remarks, his voice slightly muffled, "is that people usually want a 
re-match."
"Is that so?"
"Yup. As soon as the players have gotten their energy back, usually."
I laugh out loud this time. It feels good to laugh with Mulder. "Are you 
propositioning me, Mulder?"
"What would you say if I was?" he returns.
"I would say..." I plant a kiss on the crown of his head, "that we're going to 
have plenty of opportunities."
I feel his skin stretch as he smiles against my chest. "You have to admit 
we're pretty good at this. Well... you are, anyway. For a girl."
I snicker and pinch him in the side. "You just talked yourself right out of 
a compliment."
"Mmm. S'okay. I know I'm good."
I sigh dramatically. "Men."
"Classic battle of the sexes, Scully."
"We'll just see about that."
"Mmm. Scully?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
I am struck by a strong sense of dj vu. Of course- a ghost ship and a 
hospital room. Mulder, high on pain killers and ranting about a 1930's 
version of me. And one decidedly startling admission.
This time I can give him the answer he deserves. "I love you too, Mulder."
It seems like those words are as good a way as any to end the night.