From: MD1016 Date: 26 Jun 2000 05:37:02 GMT Subject: New: Friends and Lovers by MD1016 (NC-17) Gossamer: VA Rated: NC-17 Spoilers: 6th Season Keywords: none Summary: Sequel to Questions and Answers Author's Note: This story is self-rated NC-17. That means it's not intended for people under the age of 18 (ie. children and teens should not read this story). Author's Plea: I've been getting letters from under-aged readers - always wonderfully flattering - about stories that I've written which were clearly labeled with adult subject matter. I understand that some teens feel more mature than most of their peers, and therefore able to handle the more mature stories (I remember vividly what it was like to be 15), but I don't write the explicit situations in my stories for minors. It's illegal and amoral. I ask younger readers to respect the labels I've placed at the front of all of my stories so that I don't have to remove them from my repertoire. I just can't take the guilt anymore. Friends and Lovers by MD1016 Things were bad between them, but not beyond repair. Not yet. Scully knew she could make them better if she could just hold it together long enough to talk to him. It was Mulder, after all. This man was her best friend. Not that anyone could tell from the stony silence between them on the flight home from Hoover Dam. But now that they'd had some time apart, time for him to reflect and her to lick her wounds, she'd be able to talk to him. Six hours was enough time, wasn't it? And maybe now she'd be able to listen to the things she knew she didn't want to hear. If they were going to salvage any part of their relationship, personal or no, Scully knew that the words would have to be said. It was obvious that up until now, they hadn't been, and though she knew he'd probably never intended it, Scully felt deceived by his silence. After all, they'd necked and groped and played the part of hormone-driven teenagers for the better part of five weeks without him mentioning a single word of hesitancy as to where their relationship was clearly headed. Clearly. Even if they'd agreed to take things slow, to put off the declarations, the way he kissed her, the incredible things he did to her bare breasts was evidence enough that he understood they were embarking on a sexual relationship. The thing that really hurt was that until the night before, he'd seemed thrilled with her and the changes between them. She'd been encouraged, hopeful. In short, she let her guard down. After five weeks of foreplay, seducing him seemed the logical answer. She'd returned to his motel room to collect the few articles of clothing and her toiletry bag without so much as a word from him, or a glance up when she left. Her anger melted away at that point, and Scully was over-wrought with a sense of loss and regret. Because it was Mulder. And no matter how their relationship ended up, she loved him. It was impossible for her to stop, and inconceivable for her to leave him just because he'd reached the limit of what he could give her. She tried to rationalize that it wasn't weakness that kept her bound to him, but strength. She chose to stay. She *chose* to make an active attempt to mend their relationship because Scully knew there would never be another man in her life. Not like Mulder. That was her plan, the long and short of it: fix it. Not brilliant, but at the moment, while she stood outside his apartment door just after midnight, she hoped it was functional. Before she had a chance to raise her hand to knock, Diana Fowley opened the door and nearly stepped into her. Fowley recovered first and slithered past her into the hall, wearing a shade of yellow that should've been criminal. She looked Scully up and down, and condescension dripped from her amused, lopsided smirk. The bitch even had the nerve to wink. Six hours. She'd left him at the airport six hours before. Six lousy hours, and he'd already run home to his whore. The burn of bile in the back of her throat threatened to make Scully gag. "Looks like you've got another visitor, Fox," Fowley practically purred as Mulder stepped into the door frame. Scully couldn't bare to look at him, but even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to see him through the tears that pooled. She didn't care if they fell or not, or if Fowley turned from the opening elevator doors and saw her crying - sure fodder for hours of merriment. Her heart was broken. Nothing else seemed to matter. "Scully?" Mulder sounded concerned and confused. "You said you'd end it." She didn't know why she said it. The last thing she wanted to hear were excuses and explanations coming from his mouth. She wanted to run and never stop. To hell with never leaving him. To hell with them both. "Don't do this, Scully. I asked her to come here. We talked." "YOU ASKED her?" She nailed him with her fury, met his gaze, and the flood of tears poured down her cheeks in two fat drops. "I'm surprised you had to ask." Mulder seemed stunned, disturbed to see her in such distress. He tried to pull her in the apartment by the elbow, but she shook off his hand. "Scully, please come in." "No." It amazed her that her voice remained so level and calm despite the hurricane of emotions that raged in her belly. Her mouth went completely dry. "Please." He leaned closer. Her fist made contact with his abdomen. The look of shock on his face was priceless, and Scully was sure it mirrored her own. She hadn't meant to punch him, hadn't even thought about it. "I'm sorry," she muttered before she turned to the staircase at the end of the hall. It was all she could offer in terms of an apology. It was probably better than she'd ever get from him. "Scully," he called after her. She ignored him. "Scully, please." His voice was strained from the lack of oxygen. She'd knocked the wind out of him, even if she wasn't able to lay him flat. She didn't know how she felt about that. "Scully. I love you." That stopped her. Her stomach involuntarily contracted around a sob. "Why do you do this to me?" she demanded, back to him. "I don't know. I don't mean to. I just...I don't know what I'm doing with you." He was in the hall, a few steps behind her. "I'm used to profiling men. I understand how we think. What motivates us. And normally, Scully - and I do hope you don't take this the wrong way - you think like a man. At work. You approach things linearly. I understand how your operate. But lately..." His voice trailed off as he got closer to her, and Scully prayed he wouldn't touch her. He didn't. "I've never known you in a relationship before. Suddenly, you've started to think like a woman." "I am a woman," she mumbled. "I thought you liked women." "Yeah." He chuckled a little. "I do. But it's terrifying to suddenly see your best friend as a stranger." She agreed. But the ability to identify with what he was saying didn't make her heart ache any less. "Is that why...her?" She motioned to the now vacant space in front of the closed elevator doors. Another sob escaped her throat. "She's a friend, Scully. I needed a female sounding board, and for the first time, I couldn't use you." She whirled around to face him. "You talked about ME to HER?" "Uh..." His whole face was tense. He looked panicked, and couldn't seem to take his eyes off the tears that streaked down her face. "Can't we discuss this inside? I've got that tea you like." "Fuck you, Fox Mulder. Do I look like I'm in the mood for tea?" He pressed his lips together and studied her face. "Right. I've got Jim Beam." She glanced up at him. He was serious. And he was still wearing the dress shirt and pants he'd put on that morning. Top button undone, sans tie. He said they'd just talked, and Scully believed him. So, he'd had her over to talk. Fine. Upsetting, but not the end of the world. Suddenly, the tears on her face were enormously embarrassing. She swatted them away, reminded of just how out of control she was on the Mulder issue, so sadly pathetic. Without giving him a direct answer she wrapped her arms around her body and brushed past him, into his apartment. He was right, though she was loathe to admit it. They did need to talk. She almost went to his comfortable leather couch, but thought better of it and made a bee-line into his small, functional kitchen. It was safer to have the blue Formica table between them. Close, but not too close. She wondered if he and Fowley had had their little chat at the kitchen table, too. He pulled a fresh bottle from the cupboard along with two glasses. Neither of them spoke until they'd had their first shot, and Mulder poured them a second. Scully stared at the amber liquid, certain that alcohol was probably the worst possible idea for either of them at that moment. "I really am sorry I punched you." She swirled her glass. "I've never hit anyone like that before. It's not me. Not who I am." "I know." He watched her down the whiskey in her glass and then refilled it. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" He smiled. "Just trying to ruin your aim. I don't know if you're packing." She pulled her gun from her back holster and placed it on the table. "Now you can relax." "I wish it were that easy," he said, sincerely. He downed his drink in one gulp. "But it's not." She could feel the heat of the whiskey already warming her insides, but the sad, serious expression on her partner's face left her with a chill. It had been a bad idea to even enter his apartment, let alone take the offered drink. It was a shame that her sudden clarity only came after the alcohol hit her blood stream. "Mulder, I'm really not up to this right now." If she could get out the door before he said anything else - "We can't put this off anymore." "I'm..." She sighed. Her brilliant partner didn't seem to understand that the night before, along with their chat on the dam, had taken a huge toll on her. It was ugly, but he had to know. "I'm afraid I'll learn to hate you." He wasn't at all surprised. "I'm afraid of that, too," he admitted, softly. "I'm afraid you already have. Diana explained that it was probably a mistake that I -" Scully slammed her glass on the table. "This is a mistake." He took a moment, swallowed, and then said, slowly, "She's a friend, Scully. Someone I've known for years. I respect her opinion and her analytical insight. You know this." Scully snorted and pushed herself away from the table. His hand clamped over her wrist and held on tightly. "Scully. I know how you feel about her, but it was worth upsetting you to gain a little insight." "Insight into me?" He nodded. "And what could she have told you about me that you didn't already know? How could she possibly know me better than you?" "I thought that when you told me you loved me this afternoon, you were trying to punish me." If it wasn't for the earnest misery in his face, Scully would've thought he was trying to make a bad joke. "How...?" "You were angry. You were yelling. You threw out 'I love you' like you wanted it to hurt." He shrugged. "I didn't want to return the favor." She couldn't meet his eyes. "I...was upset." "I know. Because of last night." His grip on her relaxed, and she pulled her arm out of his grasp. She wanted another swallow of the whiskey, but the previous three were already swimming in her brain, and she thought better of it. The room felt uncomfortably warm. "I didn't meant to hurt you last night. I knew that I probably had, but you insisted you were fine. " He winced a little and shook his head. "I know. I should've known. You've probably never tried to seduce anyone before." "Are you trying to tell me I was doing it wrong?" Scully reached for her glass and pulled it close. "You did everything right, Scully. Believe me. Under any other circumstances when a beautiful, sexy woman straddles my legs, unbuttons her top, and proceeds to eat fried chicken from my mouth, I'd be putty in her hands." Scully closed her eyes. "Any other circumstances being Fowley instead of me?" When he didn't respond right away, she knew he was considering an answer. The burning, gagging sensation hit the back of her throat again. She laid her head down on her crossed arms and waited for her stomach to settle. "Don't answer that. Mulder, I really don't want to know this. Really." For a moment or two he was quiet, thoughtful. Then he took a deep breath. "You were right this afternoon. I never intended to say yes." It was a blow, but not the worst he'd hit her with in the past 24 hours. Scully steeled herself against it and tried to nod as if she knew it all along. She told herself she had as she finished her fourth shot, but neither the lie nor the alcohol went down without her choking a little. Mulder didn't refill her glass again. "Scully, look at me." It was hard, but she met his steady gaze. He wet his lips. "I thought you wanted me to say yes because you wanted me to stop sleeping with Diana, and you were willing to take on her role in my life." She sighed. "Right." "Right?" He seemed unsure. "Is that really what you want? Meaningless, convenient sex? Really? I'm not sure I can do that with you, Scully." He shook his head. "I could try, if that's truly what you're looking for, but I'm afraid I'd learn to hate you, too." "Of course that's not what I want. Is that what you think I was after last night?" "I'm confused about last night. We'd decided on slow. I thought we'd agreed." "We did," she admitted. "I have every intention of sleeping with you. And making love to you. And living the rest of my life with you." The way he said that, quiet and certain, made her heart beat a little faster. "I just needed more time to get used to this." He motioned between them. "I've fallen in love with you. I'm not sure how it happened, but it did." "You have?" "A long time ago." He nodded. "But I wanted you to believe it, so I had to wait for you to figure it out for yourself." "Did Fowley tell you that?" "No." Mulder chuckled lightly. "She told me I was an idiot for waiting so long. But you have a tendency of trying your damnedest to prove me wrong." He screwed the cap back on the Jim Beam. "Scully, how drunk are you?" "Enough." "Too much to drive?" "Yes. I'll call a cab." "I'm not asking you to leave. I'm trying to determine if my actions could be construed as taking advantage," he said earnestly. "Are you making a pass at me, Mulder?" "And if I am?" It was too much, too fast. Not fifteen minutes before she'd sobbed for her broken heart and lashed out in violence with the anger that ripped through her stomach. And now the source of all that pain sat beside her, and having professed his love he expected all the pieces to fall neatly into place, and her to jump in his bed. Even though the night before he rejected that very notion. "I think I should go." Disappointment darkened his face, but he nodded. "Then I'll call you a cab." She grabbed his wrist before he could stand. Conflicting emotions whirled and tumbled, no doubt jumbled because of the whiskey in her system. She didn't want to leave. She knew she shouldn't stay. His skin was soft and warm and dry, and the tendons shifted beneath her fingers. She wanted to kiss him there. At that moment she couldn't remember why that would be such a bad idea. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe kissing him was the best idea she ever had. She pushed herself from her chair, surprised at how heavy and unresponsive her legs had become, and grabbed at his shoulders for balance. "Easy, now." "I'm going to kiss you now," she warned. The room swayed at the edges. "And with all that booze you plied me with, my aim might be ruined." "That's what I'm here for," he said as his strong arms closed around her middle and drew her down to straddle his lap. Scully found herself in the same position she'd been in the night before, only this time it was Mulder who slowly unbuttoned the delicate glass buttons of her blouse. And there was no chicken. Her abdomen began to tingle nervously, but once again she ignored the voice of self preservation. She always did when he came to Mulder. When her shirt hung loose and open, he slipped his hands beneath it and smoothed them over the roundness of her shoulders. "Wasn't there a kiss that was going to happen?" he asked innocently. Scully hadn't even noticed that she'd been staring at his beautiful eyes. Mesmerized by the subtle display of emotions that played out across them, and by the tenderness that laced them all together. When he smiled, she realized she'd done it again. "Earth to Scully." She pulled him forward, roughly, and pressed her open mouth over his. Her tongue sought entrance almost before he granted it. It was a wild kiss, clumsy and hot, and it took no time at all for Mulder to tighten his grip on her shoulders and force her arms down to an angle where her blouse fell freely to the ground. When she regained her hold on his solid chest, his hands found the sides of her breasts and cupped her through the thin satin of her bra. In the previous five weeks, Mulder had learned through careful analysis exactly how to handle her breasts to make her squirm with pleasure. Never before had Scully considered her nipples to be particularly sensitive, but Mulder could do amazing things with his mouth. Like they way he kissed her tongue with his. Over and over. While he kneaded her breasts and teased her nipples with the sides of his thumbs. Over and over. Until breathing became a secondary need. "Oh, God." Scully pulled away enough to break the kiss. They both took a moment to drink in oxygen again. "What's wrong?" Mulder asked, still panting. She didn't bother responding. It took all of her energy and concentration to get the tiny white buttons on Mulder's shirt through the tiny button holes. Her hands were shaking. "Why do they have to be so small?" Mulder's light chuckle made the buttons impossible to hold on to. "They're not small, Scully, you're just loaded. You had more than I did, and I'm definitely feeling the effects." "All I feel is you." He smiled at her, genuinely delighted, and years seemed to melt from his face. His lips were pink from her kisses, and slightly swollen, and completely captivating. She felt his fingers brush hers aside, picking up the task of unbuttoning that she'd already forgotten. All she could think about was his mouth, and the tip of his tongue that swiped nervously over his bottom lip. Scully closed her eyes and captured that lip between gentle teeth. She suckled lightly, and was rewarded with the tiniest of moans. The sound mixed with the swirling vibrations in her head, and she sighed against the wonderful dizziness it created. She rocked closer to him, used his body as an anchor, and the bare skin beneath her bra found his warm hands working frantically on the last few buttons of his shirt. His mouth became less responsive in his attempt to undress. Scully took the opportunity to taste his chin, his neck, the sweet flesh just below his ear. When at last his hands were free again, he pulled her to him, belly to belly, and he reclaimed her mouth. His tongue was more urgent, and the firey heat of his skin thrilled her. She wanted more skin, hers on his, his on hers. She rocked closer and wedged the stiffness in his lap between them. He groaned hot, moist air into her mouth. His hands clutched her ass and squeezed her even closer. Scully lost all focus except for the hardness that pressed up against her. Her hips moved of their own accord as she clutched his shoulders for stability, and rested her forehead against his. Their breathing was ragged, uneven, and Scully kept her eyes closed to keep the vertigo at bay. "Scully." Mulder's movements slowed beneath her, and his hands slipped from her ass to her hips. "Scully, stand up." "No." She didn't want to stop. "You've got to get your pants off." He tried to lift her from his lap, but the angle was too awkward. "Stand up." "No." She stretched herself over the full length of his torso and wove her arms around his neck. The new position jammed the head of his erection against the perfect spot between her legs and it awoke a ravenous sexual ache within her. She held his head and mercilessly thrust his tongue into his mouth, spurred on by her body's hunger. He wasn't close enough. She needed him closer. Only when her ass hit the table hard did she register that he'd propelled the both of them out of the chair. She continued her assault with her lips, teeth and tongue while he unzipped the side of her pants, and then yanked on the waist until the small button popped off. Then he slip his hands down her back and over the curve of her bottom, dragging her panties with them. It took some doing, but when he lifted her again, his erection slid the length of her sex. Mulder dropped back down into the kitchen chair, his pants tangled around his ankles, and Scully rocking in his lap. The friction he gave her triggered a ball of tension at the base of her belly, and a subtle build began to grow. She ripped her mouth from his, desperate for air. His hands closed over her breasts, and she arched her back to encourage him to fondle. The rhythm she rubbed against the length of his erection began to increase along with the mounting pressure of release. His muscular upper arms kept her upright on his lap, and her thighs clamped on either side of his made sure she didn't slide to the floor, but the rest of her being focused intently on the bump, bump, bump of hard body against exquisitely swollen flesh. There was a tugging at her chest - a minor irritation - and then her breasts sprang free. She arched back even farther, to lift her nipples higher, and Mulder's mouth dutifully captured one and began his mind-blowing worship. He sucked and fluttered his tongue over her over-sensitive nipple, and then used his teeth to pull it back into position again. Her hand went to the side of his face, his beautiful face. She loved his face, his mouth, the hand splayed across her lower back to hold her in position. She loved the way her own breast bobbed when it slipped from his mouth with a wet pop. She loved the way he lifted her along his body, the way her whole chest throbbed in pleasure as it scraped up the fine hair on his warm chest. And, oh God, the she loved the feel of him, thick and hard and solid, as he pierced her body and she slid back down, into place. Her heart beat like a bird flapping its wings, fighting the approaching storm to stay aloft. Just the tips of her nipples dragged up and down his body as the two of them worked to create a steady rhythm. A drop of sweat rolled down along her hair line. "Scully." His voice was labored, whispered. "Look at me." She opened her eyes to his intense gaze, and it wasn't until then that she truly realized it was Mulder she was making love with, Mulder who was so wonderfully inside her. "I love you," escaped her lips without the urge to censor kicking in. What she felt was real, honest, and as deep as her soul. Everything else fell away. Mulder's hips stopped moving beneath her. His face became unreadable. For a moment, Scully feared he'd start to cry, but the tears that beaded on his lower lashes didn't fall. He smiled instead, and it was the most beautiful, joyful expression Scully had ever seen on his face. She laughed because she couldn't contain her happiness. "I love you, too." It was almost more than she could handle. The depth and complexity of the emotions that whirled within her threatened to overwhelm, so she stretched her arms up and around his neck, and shifted forward on his lap. The new position gave them both cause to groan. Scully kissed his neck, and they began to move again, luxuriating in the feel of their bodies rubbing against each other. She kissed his neck, his ear, his jaw. His breathing became more labored. His stomach muscles tensed. "Mulder?" She smiled when she murmured his name against his cheek. "Huh?" It was more of a grunt than a question. "Are you close?" His eyes were squeezed shut, and the veins in his neck began to stand out. "I can hold it back." Scully clenched around him extra tight. He grimaced, but his brows rose in silent supplication for more. Scully obliged. Watching him was more erotic than she ever would've guessed. Mulder was a sexy man, and more so when having making love. "Hold it back?" she asked coyly. Her head was cottony, and the room moved of its own volition, but Scully didn't care. She ran a few fingers lightly down the front of his chest and stomach to play over the thin, dark hair just below his bellybutton. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. "Why would you want to do that?" "Wait - for - you." It was all he could manage. He held her with strong fingers that dug into her flesh. His thrusts became more erratic, more jerky. Scully closed her own eyes, and rode along with his growing desperation. He felt so good, buried deep inside her. She pressed her forehead into the crook in his neck to stabilize herself against the spinning room. Her thighs quaked with fatigue, but she couldn't stop. He was so close, and she felt so, so good. She'd forgotten how wonderful sex could feel. Mulder inhaled sharply, and swallowed a grunt. His legs spread a little more. Scully moved her hand to his chest. His heart pounded up against her palm. Mulder's heart. It still amazed her that this was Mulder groaning below her with every jabbing thrust, that he was hard and inside her waiting to explode. An unexpected tightness in her chest stirred the emotions within her again. "Oh, God," she whimpered. She wasn't used to feeling so much at once. "Oh, Mulder." His head flew back, his back arched violently, and his clawing fingers pulled her hard against him as he drove himself into her. She watched him as he found his release; his normally intelligent eyes glazed over in his moment of ecstasy, his mouth dropped open in a silent cry, his stomach muscles rippled as nature took over and the waves crashed over him, through him, and emptied into her. It was quite possibly the single most erotic thing she'd ever witnessed in her life. She laid her head against his shoulder, replaying the image over and over in her head. Slowly, his breathing began to slow, as his body caught up with itself. His rubbed his hands up and down her back in a series of delicate caresses. They quieted her body, lulled her to a wonderful place of semi-consciousness. Eventually, she felt the pressure of a kiss on the top of her head. "You're cold," he whispered. She grunted a non-committal response. Her body was too heavy and clumsy to form coherent words, and she was happy right where she was. "Next time I'll last longer," he promised. Silly man. He was worried about his performance. She managed another sound and realized her arms were dangling at her sides. Comfortable position. So sleepy. "Scully?" He moved. He moved her. Her head was a big, fluffy lead ball. "Love you," she mumbled, or tried to. It didn't matter. He knew. And just to be sure, she'd tell him again in the morning. "Love you, too." End.