From: TJ <2ISUGRADS@Prodigy.net> Date: Wed, 24 Oct 2001 23:15:45 GMT Subject: New: Reformatted, Heat Stroke NC-17 Source: atxc Title: Heat Stroke Author: TJ Feedback: Send to 2ISUGRADS@Prodigy.net Pretty, pretty please! I need to know that my lack of sleep was worth it over this! Or not, if you loath this. Distribution: Of course! Just send me a quick note telling me where it's going to end up. And please keep all of this info attached. Summary: It's hot. And so are Mulder and Scully. Ppppbbbbbbtttttttttt! I'm not saying anymore! Category: MSR and complete, gratuitous smut. I blush. Rating: NC-17 Spoilers: Can't think of anything blatant. Read at your own risk. Disclaimer: The characters and content of The X Files belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox Network and the incredibly talented actors who bring Mulder, Scully, Skinner and company to life each episode. If they were mine I wouldn't have suffered through most of season 8 like I did! Author's Notes: This story was actually written over a year ago and I never got up enough nerve to post it (though I was close to). After last winter's horrible cold, I hate to think that it's the end of October already and another winter is not far off. So here are my notes as they were written when I originally intended to post it. I decided to drag this out again and just put it out there. I blame it on my overabundance of pregnancy hormones and the lack of Mulder in season 9. (Sobbing sounds) So here goes....Maybe a little fantasy will do us all some good these days. Feb. 2001- OK, I've really had it with winter, and it's going to be a good month and a half before this midwest arctic wasteland gets some warmth again. I wrote this story in the heat of last August and thought it was time to drag it out and post it to warm me up a bit, and hopefully you readers too. If you live in the South, well, aren't you just special to have escaped Hell's heating bills. Heat Stroke By TJ Scully begrudgingly made her way up the final flight of the four level of stairs to Mulder's apartment. It was bad enough that the elevator was out of service, even worse that the temperature outside was near 100 with an equal humidity level. So far it was one of the hottest days of summer and also one of the most miserable in terms of a work day. She had just gotten her ass chewed by Skinner for failing to turn in the latest expense report on time. And it wasn't even her fault. Like many other times, Mulder had at the last possible minute dropped the ball in her lap when it came to filing paperwork. She was about to cram that ball right up his procrastinating ass as she knocked on his door. "Mulder, you better answer the door quick, or you're going to find a puddle out here," she called through the door with increasing irritation. She was sweating terribly and felt a headache coming on. As she waited for his response, the top of her shirt suddenly felt constrictive and she tugged at it. 'Why the hell isn't he answering his door?', she thought as she contemplated how dry her mouth felt. She was miserably hot and in desperate need of a cold drink, but instead of focusing on her present state of discomfort, she let her mind begin to drift. He had cut out of work early that day without explanation, except for the note stick she found on her desk after she came back from a rest room break saying, "Going home, see you Mon." She was somewhat annoyed by him cutting out like that, but forgave him anyway. Maybe he hadn't been feeling well and didn't want to tell her knowing she would just worry. (She didn't understand why she tried to justify him skipping out on her time and time again.) However, when Skinner called on the phone minutes later wanting to know where the missing paperwork was, she had to use all her strength to remain composed. "I'm sorry, Sir. Yes. Yes, I realize that. I thought Mulder had turned it in before he left today. No, obviously he didn't. I'll see if I can locate it. Yes, you *will* have it by 5 today." She slammed the receiver down, cursing her inept partner's lack of responsibility in the matter. Had he just assumed she would take care of it if he didn't? She knew he wasn't usually so incompetent, but her anger was still there. It was just so damned hot, even in their basement office, and heat like this made her feel particularly bitchy. No wonder homicide rates soared on days like today, she mused. After a few minutes of rummaging around in his desk, having to sort through various clutter of crime scene photos, newspaper articles and dirty magazines, she located the tardy report. She flipped through it quickly and shook her head in exasperation. He had failed to sign it. In two places. Boy, was he was in deep now. She picked the phone up and pushed in his cell number. When the voice on the line said, "the person you have reached is currently unavailable" it was confirmed. He was in *really* deep. She hung up then dialed his home number. "Mulder, it's me. I tried your cell phone. You must have it shut off. If you get this message, I'm on my way over. I found the report *you* were supposed to have turned in this afternoon and you failed to sign it... Twice. I told Skinner I'd have it back to him by five, so you'd better be there, or you can be the one to call him and explain." She swiped the hair back out of her face, damp with perspiration, and grabbed the envelope of papers off the desk. She just hoped that the air conditioner was working better in her car today, otherwise Mulder had better watch out. The whole way over to Mulder's, Scully fiddled with the vents in her car. No matter which way she directed the airflow, the breeze coming out of them was barely cooler than the air outside. Giving up, she finally rolled down her windows despite being on the expressway. The wind whipped her hair all over, which was already beginning to curl because of the damp air, giving her a wild and disheveled new style. She glanced in the rearview mirror and recalled when she'd actually tried to get her hair to look just like this. (Not a very professional look for her now, but it worked for the party atmosphere of college days.) She decided not to worry about it because she already felt less then business-like stripped down to her tank top blouse with bare legs under a short skirt. The pantyhose had gone by the wayside along with her suit- coat almost immediately after she got into her car and realized that what little freon she'd had the day before in the air conditioner was now gone completely. Fortunately she was wearing a skirt, so she'd been able to pull the nylons off and stuff them into her purse. There are few worse sensations than clingy, itchy nylons when it's 100 degrees out. She tried not to think about how horrible she must look. Besides, Mulder had seen her looking worse than this. Much worse in fact. Too many times. She smiled slightly despite still being more than perturbed with him. It had only been recently that she'd started to really care how she looked around Mulder. There were mornings she fretted like some high school girl over which outfit to wear, how to style her hair, what color of lipstick to apply. It was ridiculous really, because she knew he would find her attractive even if she was covered in ectoplasmic slime or something more disgusting. Mulder was not very good at hiding his non-partner like appreciation of her. And the feeling was mutual, except she was better at concealing her admiration. She noticed when he wore a new cologne. Remembered how his most recent scent thrilled her olfactory sense when he stood close to her. She paid attention to the way his suit pants hung so perfectly on his ass. How toned his chest and arms looked when he wore his favorite gray T-shirt or snug v-neck sweater. Yes, she noticed. She noticed how attractive he was. How gorgeous, actually. He was a beautiful man inside and out. Lucky her to get to work with him and be his best friend. Unlucky her that so far there was nothing else to their relationship besides that. She was so lost in these thoughts about him as she stood at his apartment that she startled when the door opened before her. "Good, no puddle. Sorry it took me so long to get to the door." Speaking of appearances... Oh my. Mulder looked hot. Not just temperature wise, but HOT. Scully almost forgot the reason why she drove all the way over there. She had to search her mind for why she was in a bad mood and why she felt so sweaty and wilted, because when she saw Mulder holding the door open for her, his most puppy dog look on his face and not much else on his body, she just couldn't recall. Mulder was wearing baggy knit gym shorts. That's all. And there wouldn't have been anything too spectacular about an ordinary pair of gray gym shorts except that it was obvious he didn't have anything on underneath them. Things just hung differently. His hair was wet and his chest glistened with droplets of water. He looked tan, which made her wonder when he had found the time to get some sun. Maybe he'd been jogging shirtless in the mornings. That image made a little shudder run between her legs and she shifted nervously. "You can come in," he said, surveying her hesitancy, "I just got out of the shower." As if he owed her an explanation, which by her expression, said she expected one. "The elevator doesn't work," she told him, as if somehow it was his fault, along with the heat, humidity, broken car air conditioner, scratchy nylons *and* unsigned delinquent expense report. Not to mention how lousy she felt. Yes, they were all his fault. At least that was the kind of mood she was in. She focused on her bad mood to keep her distracted from other emotions that rumbled just below her over heated surface. Scully glared at him as she stepped into his apartment, almost pushing him aside as she did so. She stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest, the envelop in one hand, waiting for him to apologize for the trouble she had gone to bring the paperwork to him. "Well," she said, waiting for him to get that guilty hang dog look he was so good at when he was in trouble with her. "Um, well, it's nice you dropped by?" he asked, confused by her apparent impatience and irritation with him. "Here, smart ass," she retorted completely exasperated by the innocent expression he wore instead. She thrust the manila folder at him and walked briskly to his kitchen, throwing open his refrigerator door. "Your refrigerator's empty," she stated turning back to him. That is *completely* empty, she amended to herself, in comparison to empty, as in lacking anything that was still edible or even recognizable as food. He was in the process of opening the flap of the envelope when he glanced up briefly and said, "No electricity. The whole building's been without for about 1/2 hour because of a power overload." Scully looked next to her on the floor and saw several small coolers. She bent and opened one and took stock of its contents. Orange juice, bologna, a few beers, and some kind of cheese in a plastic zip bag. She realized he was trying to save what little food he had. At about this same moment, Mulder was coming to his own understanding. "Shit. Geez Scully, honest, I completely forgot about this report. No wonder you're acting so bitchy." "Bitchy?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. She felt like taking off her shoe and flinging it at him, except it was probably melted to her foot by now. His apartment was a damned furnace and she could feel the sweat dripping down her neck, onto her top. It was quickly becoming soaked with her perspiration and her bra felt excruciatingly restrictive. Didn't he have a goddamned fan or something? Oh yeah, she remembered, no power. Now her brain was melting too. "You weren't exactly cordial when you pushed your way in here." "You told me to come in Mulder, so I did." "I wouldn't have invited you in if I knew you were going to bite my head off." "Don't be stupid, Mulder, you acted like this was a social call. You know why I'm here, so don't pretend you just now realized why I had to drive all the way over here in a car without air conditioning to get you to sign a report....twice... that you should have taken care of days ago." She finished her rant with a tired sigh. God, she felt like crap. She swatted at her hair again trying to push it away from her face and neck. She almost wished she hadn't got it cut so short so she would at least be able to pull it back off of her face. "For your information, I did think you stopped by socially. I swear, Scully, that report completely slipped my mind until just now when you practically crammed it down my throat." "I left you a message Mulder. I said I was on my way over for you to sign it. You're obviously home now and I know you always check your messages, so...." Again, Scully's brain recovered just enough to remember for a second time in only minutes that there wasn't any electricity in Mulder's apartment. Of course he wouldn't have been able to check the message. Mulder had that self righteous smirk on his face as he pointed to his unlit answering machine and nodded. He could tell she knew she was too harsh in criticizing him the way she had. "Right," she said simply and dipped her hand in the cooler, picking up a chunk of ice and rubbing it down one side of her neck and back up the other, "No power." She closed her eyes to the sensation of the ice melting on her skin, cooling her with a shiver that traveled down her throat, trickling between her breasts with each cool droplet of liquefied ice. She concentrated on that piece of ice and felt oddly lightheaded and free. When did her feet leave the floor? "Are you hot, Scully?" Mulder asked her. She snapped alert and was about to make a snide remark about that being a brilliant observation but something in the sound of his voice made her open her eyes and study him carefully. His voice sounded raspy and weak, like he was being overcome by the heat. Instead of finding him looking pale, like a person suffering from heat exhaustion would, Scully ascertained that he was handling the heat very well after all. Mulder looked perfectly healthy and perhaps something else... aroused. She stopped stroking the ice over her neck and decided to have a little fun with him; play along at his own game for awhile. It was payback time, and what better a way to pay her debt on the balance she owed him. She tugged at the top of her button down tank top and moved the ice lower over her collar bone. When she saw him swallow hard and his face begin to flush a little, she began to unbutton the top two buttons, rubbing the ice over the skin that was revealed with each one's release. "Why? Do I look hot Mulder?" she played, lowering her voice seductively and allowing her eyes to droop in a come-hither fashion. It had been a long time since she tried to entice a man with her sensuality, but not long enough to have forgotten. "Extremely hot." Was all he said as he moved toward her, dropping the envelope on his kitchen counter. She moved her fingers to the third button but almost decided against it when he looked down at the floor. Maybe he wasn't as interested in this tease as she had hoped, she thought. He bent over and reached into the cooler then stood facing her, inches in front of her. "Sultry," he whispered into her ear. The flutter of his breath made her dizzy. He was so close she could feel the heat ripple off of him, smell the sweat and soap mingled aroma of his skin. She felt suddenly lightheaded and reached back with one hand to steady herself against the kitchen counter. Instantaneously he reached for her, a protective reaction to her expression and unsteady sway, and held her around the waist. Then slowly he brought the ice in his other hand to the top of her opened blouse. He lingered just above the fabric, his eyes locked on hers, then delicately he caressed the frozen crystal down the valley between her breasts, stopping at the front clasp of her bra. He smiled wickedly at her, his eyes reflecting not only the torrid heat in the room, but also the inferno that was raging between them. Seven years building a bonfire of lust and longing, and she had lit it with a piece of ice. The symbolism of this moment was poetically ironic, and he wished he could somehow remember a verse that would capture his feelings for her right now. It was the sensation of his fingers being so close to her breast, not the actual touch of the ice itself, that made Scully's flesh tingle and shiver. She tilted her neck to the side and allowed him to bring the ice back up, following the fine line of her jaw and continuing behind the sensitive hollow of her ear. As he brought his mouth down to lick the droplets of melted ice on her skin, she raised her hand to his neck, guiding him to where she wanted his lips to go next. They found each other's mouths and brushed their lips feather light together. Now it was his turn to tease as he pulled back from her, ending the whispered promise of a much deeper joining of mouths. Once more, he bent and reached down into the cooler, taking another chip of ice in his long fingers. This time he did not stand back up. He knelt in front of her and began to circle the ice around her ankle. He did this while looking up at her, watching all the nuances of her changing expressions. At first, her face registered shock as he drew the ice up her calf, pausing at the concave curve at the back of her knee. Her widened eyes soon closed partway as he gently guided her legs apart with his other hand. Now her face reflected anticipation. Tracing little wavy lines up the outer side of her thigh, he paused before he continued further with this quest. He held his breath, waiting to see a different expression; the look of desire, of unquestionable want and need. He had to know, to be certain that this was something that was meant to be. He had to be certain she was aching for this to happen as much as he was. Aching for too long now. As if in confirmation of his suspicion that she was as aroused as he -and had no intention of ending this whole game here and now- she closed her eyes once again, lines of pleasure creased in the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her lips opened just enough to let out a sigh and then a proclamation. "Mulder, if you stop now..." she whispered almost frantically, opening her legs to him further. Her hands found his hair as he nuzzled his face against the front of her skirt, one hand poised just at the hem, the other gracefully skating the ice in miniature figure eights towards the wintry white skin of her inner thigh. She found herself pitching her hips forward and back in a seductive, needy rhythm as he eased her skirt upwards. As the ice in his grasp touched the edge of her panties she ceased her undulation and stood still, holding her breath, her fingers entwined in his wonderfully textured hair. She had to resist the urge to buck her pelvis against him or grab his hands and guide them to the unbearable heat that radiated from deep within her. She needed her fire to be quenched, to be doused by the cool, perfect healing of his touch. Her desire was a blaze that had smoldered for years; growing little by little in intensity till it ignited the moment she finally allowed herself to be in love with him. Every time he looked at her that certain way, each touch or word of endearment that could have been taken simply in the context as comfort offered by a close friend; they were the oxygen that nourished the flames which now threatened to consume her. He was air and water. The source and the salvation; the spark he'd created the first time he held her in that dark motel room on their first case- only he was capable of extinguishing. "Scully..." was all he said as he moved the ice under the edge of her panties and found their hot confines. What little was left of the ice, melted immediately. He was almost shocked by the intensity of her heat. She was burning. Burning for him. He stroked her gently and took pride in the way her legs began to tense, then tremble. Yet still she did not move. Her feet were planted solidly on either side of him and as his fingers worked delicately around her tiny hardness, he set to work with his mouth, nipping and kissing the silken skin just on either side of her auburn triangle of hair. He had not even got as far as removing her panties and already he knew he was about to bring her over the edge. But for some reason he could sense she was fighting it. Why did she always have to be so in control, so guarded of her most primal and human emotions? Her whole body was held tight and rigid as he kissed his way down her leg. He moved his free hand to her foot and began to ease off her shoe. Obediently, she lifted her leg to help him in his effort. They repeated this same maneuver with the other. Even though he never broke the pace of his caresses between her legs, she wondered why he was so suddenly focused on getting her bare footed. Suddenly he stood up and took her face in his hands. His eyes narrowed as he studied her flushed and breathless expression. The break in contact when she had been so close was almost enough to cause her collapse. Her muscles had been taut with nerves buzzing, her senses clouded, almost removed from herself, and the loss of his touch sent her spiraling downward, back to full consciousness of her surroundings. Now he was staring at her, holding her head firmly between his long, strong hands. She could smell her scent on him. She was confused. Why had he stopped? "Let me," he said simply, a mixture of arousal and sadness in the sound. She had obviously hurt him, but how? He wounded so easily. Such a fragile soul, wrapped in that strong, determined exterior. She tried to shake her head, to let him know she didn't understand. "Let me," He repeated, his lips dancing a waltz against her check with the words. She understood then as her mind filled in all the endings for him. Let me feel you. Let me be with you. Let me love you. Despite her need for his touch... for him, she was not giving him anything of herself in return. She was holding back. She had started the game, but in her own way, was retreating back to the safety of being a spectator, not a participant. He needed her to be a team player if they were to win at anything. She could be that as his work partner and friend, but the rules of a romance were not clearly defined, and that frightened her. Mulder wanted to play rugby. She was used to playing croquet. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, pressing herself fully to him. Their bodies clung to each other in the heat, skin melted to skin, their perspiration gluing them together in a sticky, sensuous bond. She nuzzled her face into his neck, speaking softly. "Your rules, Mulder." "I need to hear you say it Scully. Humor my insecurities and just tell me. Tell me that you want me." She snaked her hand down between their tightly clenched forms and stroked the waist of his shorts. With the smile of a practiced temptress, she lightly skimmed her fingertips over the fabric and his erection. "Oh, Mulder, it's beyond want. I *need* you. How could you even doubt?" The combination of her stroking him and the seductive rasp of her voice was enough to cause Mulder to push aside any trepidation in his mind. He grasped his hands around her waist, marveling at how tiny she seemed. He knew that under that delicate appearance there was strength that few possessed. In one fluid motion he lifted her onto the counter, his mouth engulfing hers. They were of similar height now and he was able to kiss her deeply with ease, but this was not the only thing that he had in mind when he raised her up. His hands found her skirt and tugged it down this time instead of pushing it up further. He wanted nothing to hinder his contact with her body. Scully assisted him with the zipper at the back and wiggled her bottom on the counter, scooting from side to side to help him pull it and her panties down past her hips. Once they were hanging around her knees, Mulder stepped back and pulled them off completely, throwing them over his shoulder with a flourish. He felt like a kid unwrapping the brand new bike he had wished for for years. He chuckled quietly as he thought how great this first ride was going to be. "What?" Scully asked, amused yet curious about his laughter. "I was just thinking this is the best birthday present I could ever get." "Your birthday isn't for months," she smiled. "So, you're early." He didn't give her a chance to say anymore. He moved back between her legs then grabbed them, jerking her forward so she was almost off the countertop. Thrown off balance, she clutched the edge of the Formica then wrapped her legs around his hips, digging the heels of her feet into the firm muscles of his ass as if hanging on for dear life. God, his ass is perfect, she thought. Suddenly it made sense to her why he had taken off her shoes earlier. She motioned with her head down to the floor where her three inch pumps lay and smiled. "Good thinking," she congratulated him. He'd obviously had this position in mind from the start. "I didn't want to get gouged. You should have a license for those things." Scully tipped her head back with a smile, enjoying the sensation of his erection pressing into the v of her inner thighs. She was having fun with this conversation of verbal foreplay. She'd always enjoyed their suggestive banter, even if she'd hid that fact from Mulder, so she saw no reason why having sex with him should be different. Except this time she'd let him see how much she liked it. Scully disliked silent sex; serious sex even more. She was already serious and silent enough in other areas of her life. As constrained as her upbringing had been regarding the birds and the bees, Scully always believed that sex was something that should be lightheartedly enjoyed. To several of her past lovers' surprise, she tended to be vocal in expressing that enjoyment. This time, being utterly and completely in love with her lover, could only make it better. She just had to shut her brain off long enough for her body to take over. She pulled her knees back until her feet rested on his slender hips, with dexterity she used her toes to tug the waist of his gym shorts downward. Mulder's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. He was impressed with the skill of her feet. He couldn't wait to discover what else she was capable of doing with the rest of her body. As if able to read his thoughts, Scully leaned forward, circled her arms around his neck and mummered into his ear, "Just you wait and see what else I should probably have a license for G-man." So, she was dishing it up as easily as he'd served it all these years. The banquet table was set and he was more than ready to devour the feast before him. She moved her hands to his bare hips, tracing their lean ridge of bone. She almost dared not look at his ready erection, straining towards her against the thatch of hair on his belly. She'd anticipated it's size based on what she'd seen of his anatomy in a flaccid state, what she hadn't counted on however, was how intimidating it would seem. After all, it had been a long time for her. A very long time, and she knew that this was something they'd better ease into, so to speak, or else she would have difficulty walking later. She used the tips of her fingernails to trail along the path of his chest down to the base of his belly hair and hesitated. His shorts were part off, but could still be cumbersome for what they had planned. She eased her knees back even more, giving Mulder more room in front of her and gave a simple command. "Take them off." He did so quickly, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. "Better. I didn't want anything slowing you down." "Are you saying you want it fast and hard, Scully?" Scully felt a rush of blood to her face at his words. Yes, that was what she wanted. How many times had she imagined him capturing her, entering her with force and precision, quickening the pace of his thrusts until he was pounding into to her with the fiercest of frenzied passion? Mulder leaned over her bending her back towards the countertop, nuzzling his face against her cheek, darting his tongue out to tickle her earlobe. Scully shuddered and then moaned softly into his neck. Mulder had just located one of her erogenous zones. So far, so good, she thought. He was talented beyond words and things were just getting started. His hands wandered to her partially unbuttoned blouse, shaking slightly as he tackled the task of unfastening each button without looking to see what he was doing. His fingertips were numb, possibly from the lack of blood which had been re-routed to another of his body's extremities; an extremity that was growing more and more impatient with each second it was not sheltered deeply inside her. When he'd finally undone the last button near her waist he gently pushed the linen fabric off her shoulders, pausing to weave delicate spider web kisses along her clavicle. His fingers fluttered over the lace stretched across the swell of her breasts, swirling languidly around her nipples taut with sexual excitement. He cupped each breast briefly, realizing how perfectly they fit in his hands. Thumbs stroked their rounded undersides, locating the clasp in the center of her bra he'd discovered earlier in his journey with the ice cube. With a quick snap, he released the closure, delighting in the way her breasts swayed with their escape from the confines of the cotton and lace. He dipped his mouth to her exposed nipples, tasting them as if savoring their flavor. He licked at them so lightly she shuddered from the almost ticklish sensation. Her hands flew to his hair and pulled. "Mulder! Be nice," she hissed, sucking in her breath with frustration. He was driving her insane with his oral torture. She imagined that if his mouth went any lower using the same technique, she'd turn into a babbling lunatic most certainly. "I thought I was," he mumbled, a nipple tucked gently between his teeth. He bit down just enough to cause her to gasp, then opened his mouth widely, taking the entire pinkish- brown of her areola into his mouth. He lapped with his tongue, flicking the hard nub back and forth while suckling the skin around it hungrily like a newborn. Being with her like this...it was almost as if he had been born again. She made him a child again, full of wonder and excitement. Full of trust and faith in the world. She made him new and he felt nourished and satisfied at her breast, his skin nestled against hers, taking refuge in her unconditional love. Scully's hands continued their assault on his head, kneading his scalp, tugging at his luxuriously thick hair. She was growing frantic. What he was doing to her was almost too much. She had never been this close to a orgasm simply by having her breasts lavished with hands and mouth. If anyone could do it to her, it would be Mulder. He never failed to surprise her. As she felt the tightening in her abdomen, she relaxed, trying not to hold it in and be in control like she had earlier. Instead she focused on the sensations of Mulder's lips, of the way one hand cupped and held her breast and the other began to part the flesh between her legs. She bucked her hips forward almost falling off the edge of the counter when he slid a finger fully inside her. He curved it upwards to the top of her passage and rubbed. That was all it took. She arched her back squirming, throwing her head back so far she bumped it against the cupboard behind her. She closed her eyes tightly as she screamed his name again and again, witnessing the tiny stars that played on the dark screen of her eyelids; stars that had nothing to do with the knock to her skull. They were all because of him. As the pulsing ripples of electric energy subsided, she was left twitching, craving more. Like a junkie, she was hooked and this time she needed a bigger fix to satisfy her maddening hunger for the thrill. She needed all of him. "Mulder," she panted, resting her head on his shoulder as he kissed her softly on the side of her head. He tucked her hair behind her ear so he could get a better look at her and held her away from him. He wanted to see her expression. He smiled when he saw it. Her eyes were fully dilated but had a faraway, almost drug induced gaze. Tiny prickles of red covered her pale skin. They started on her cheeks and meandered to her neck and chest. The rash of ecstasy. Caused by the rush of blood to tiny capillaries as sexual arousal heightened. A sign of his success in causing his restrained partner to be anything but. He expected to see her smile, so felt his heart tumble briefly when she frowned. She took his face in her hands and looked at him earnestly, then spoke. "So, are you going to fuck me, or what?" Damn, he could get used to hearing her talk like this, he thought, as he gripped his straining erection and guided into her. He'd felt how tight she was when he had his finger inside her, so he was concerned about hurting her if he entered her too abruptly. At least she was wet enough that he didn't have to worry about that. Still, he wanted to be careful. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain. He rubbed the head up and down over her opening and against her clit, then moved his hips forward tentatively, pressing the tip of his length just barely inside her. Her legs were now wrapped tightly around his hips again and she pressed her feet into his ass, urging him forward. He must have been being overly cautious, because without warning Scully jabbed him with her heels, like a jockey urging a racehorse out of the starting gate. He pushed all the way into her with the force and she inhaled tightly, her teeth clenched. He started to apologize, sure he had hurt her, but she grabbed his ass forcing him in deeper. She was jerking her hips now so he began to move against her, thrusting in long, deep strokes. She was moaning and making tiny sighs with each slow penetration. He was almost pulling all the way out of her with alternating thrusts and each time he slapped back against her she would utter his name along with proclamations of "oh yeah" and "deeper" and even to his unbelieving ears, "fuck me harder". This was one of his wildest fantasies come true. He felt the blood rushing from his brain, the tingle in his groin and he knew that if he didn't slow down, this miraculous event would end too soon. His eyes were shut tightly as he pulled her closer and stopped pumping into her. His breathing was short, in little puffs and pants as he struggled to gain control over his body. It had a mind of its own, despite what his brain was telling it to do. He tried imagining every horrible thing they'd witnessed in their investigations in the X Files. Flukemen, carnival freaks, Eugene Tooms, the Jersey devil woman... Wait, that wasn't a good one to visualize. Scully was still trying to move against him, her legs clamped in a vise-like grip around his waist. She wiggled and twisted, rotating on him in way that was totally counter-productive to why he had ceased his thrusts. "Muuuullllder," she groaned into his ear as he almost hyperventilated against her neck, "don't stop, please. Don't stop." He tried pulling out of her slightly, anything that might distance himself from the searing heat inside her, but she was in no mood to be separated from him just yet. She reached between them and stroked the hair between his legs. He jerked almost completely out of her in response to the pleasure. "I'm too close. God, Scully. I don't want to come yet." He confessed, almost embarrassed. He felt like a goddamned virgin, not able to keep from blowing his wad three seconds into it. He might as well have been, however, considering how long it had been since the last time he'd had sex. The last time hadn't really counted even then, though. He'd been so numb in his grief over Scully's abduction that he hardly remembered what he'd done. He thought somehow he might be able to find solace and comfort in the arms of that woman, when instead it only deepened his longing for Scully. Afterwards, he felt as if he'd been unfaithful to her, betrayed her in his need for a comfort fuck. It was during that horrible time that he first began to realize how much he needed her. How much he loved her. Even if she would never be able to feel the same way about him, it would be enough just to have her back in his life so he could worship her in secret. He became even more desperate to find her then, promising himself that he would never let her down again if he just had one more chance. In his eyes, he had failed to keep that promise more times than he could count. Reminiscing about this and all the other periods of angst he felt regarding Scully did the trick. He could pace himself once again. Could stroke within her and stay in control of the escalating need he felt to empty all of himself into her. She was appreciative as he lengthened his thrusts, hitting deep inside of her, touching her desecrated womb. With him reaching so far into her, it was somehow less and more painful at the same time, knowing this act was futile from a pro-creation aspect. Scully had never fully decided before her abduction if children were to be part of her future or not. When she'd learned the choice had been taken away from her, she realized in some regards, that maybe it was for the best. Her lifestyle was not exactly compatible with motherhood. Now however, she felt the loss almost as deeply as the death of Emily had caused her to. Her love for Mulder transcended them both. It seemed too large to be contained in just the vessels of their two bodies, and she silently mourned she'd never be able to create a new life with him to pour that love into. But now was not the time for sorrowful thoughts. She would relish this moment of making love to Mulder, be thankful for what she had with him right here and now. Time is too precious to worry about the 'what if's' in life, her mother always told her. And Maggie Scully knew about those things all too well. Scully lifted her leg higher, resting her foot on the edge of the countertop. This shift in position caused both of them to grunt with pleasure. Sweat fell into both of their eyes, dripping off their damp hair. The heat was stifling. The air that surrounded them rippled in waves of heat produced by the friction of their bodies. He was so deep inside of her, wrapped in the embrace of her most intimate place. She had let him in finally, not just in body, but in spirit. She was keeping nothing from him now. All that she was was revealed to him as he sensed her begin to climax again. He could feel her tighten around him, her walls drawing him into her further, beckoning him home. It was the first time in his life that he truly felt he was at home. A sense of peace washed over him coupled with a sensation that he could only describe as heavenly. Never a believer in god in the religious manner that Scully was, he knew with certainty that somehow there had to be someone or something higher than them both; a power so benevolent to finally give him the joy he'd been searching almost all of his life for. Scully loving him like she was now converted him. He was a believer. Although he did find that thought a little sacrilegious considering the act in which the revelation occurred. Her hands were locked on the edge of the counter, her knuckles white as all her muscles became stone. As he chiseled into her with the artistry of Michelangelo, she could feel the hard granite of her exterior, the walls around her heart, begin to chip away, revealing the magnificent beauty within her that only he could create. He was a master. Her creator. She had fought loving him so hard and for so long. Now it all seemed futile. This was inevitable. As natural as the air they both sucked into their lungs as their bodies rocked together. His hand had been on her knee, pushing it back to open her wider and giving him leverage. He released it now and cupped her face, his fingertips gliding through her soaked hair. He pulled her closer, and pressed his forehead to hers, his other hand massaging her hip. Then she became aware of the sensation of that hand stroking her pelvic bone, her inner thigh, fingers finally probing between their joined bodies to tug and pull at her folds. His thrusts were slow and deep as his fingertips circled her clit, tugging at it, and soothing it alternately. He rubbed and tugged, tugged and rubbed, all the while his hardness slid in and out between her legs. Scully looked down and watched. She was barely able to focus on the sight of him going in and out of her, slick and glistening with her bodily desire for him. Her eyes closed as a million colors surged through her brain, like a kaleidoscope turning. She shook, she trembled. There wasn't enough air. She gulped as she inhaled, the world crashing around her. Nothing existed but him... moving, thrusting, caressing. She melted around him, into him, becoming him. And she cried out. A wail. A plea. His name. Over and over again she called out his name. Sobbing, collapsing against him as she felt him surge within her. His thrusts shortened as he pushed all the way in. Savoring her muscle spasms around his burning hardness. He clutched at her and yelled out as he quickly followed her into bliss, his body jerking automatically, twitching as he shot into her. He was empty... cleansed as he felt the molten liquid of his passion for her leave his body. Neither of them moved for quite some time afterwards, too exhausted to make the effort to relieve the pressure of the counter on her backside or the weakness he felt in his legs from standing so long in basically the same position. Their foreheads still together, he rubbed his nose against hers. She smiled gently and reached for his face. Her fingers stroked his jaw and chin, then skimmed his lips. His head tipped to the side and she made the move to kiss him before he even had the chance. The kiss was soft, hesitant, knowing. They worshipped each other with their eyes. At this moment, there was no need for words of love or affection or absolute devotion. All was spoken silently in their touch and gaze. What more did they need to reveal to each other after sharing what they had? He lifted her, his softening erection slipping out of her as he moved her off of his kitchen counter. Before her feet could touch the floor, she was being raised upwards again, carried in his arms, through his apartment. She felt her body relax completely, going almost limp. The sensation was strange to her. She felt hazy, almost asleep as he laid her on his sofa. She looked at him dreamily, her brain fuzzy with what she assumed was exhaustion from their lovemaking. Her eyelids fluttered as she found herself struggling to stay awake. Why was she so groggy? He was saying something to her, mouthing words that she couldn't understand. It was as if he was far away, in a tunnel. The sound of his voice was echoing in her head along with a new sound. A pounding. A throbbing. Her head hurt and she suddenly felt nauseous. She struggled to sit up, to reach out to him with heavy limbs. Her arms and legs felt weighted as he pushed her back down on the cool leather. "Scully, don't try to sit up yet, okay?" he was saying. Why? Why shouldn't she sit up? "I'm fine," she said, although at the moment she wasn't exactly sure. She felt incredibly ill considering how incredibly wonderful she felt not very long ago. "Uh huh. Well it's not fine to pass out like you just did," he said firmly, stroking her forehead with the back of his hand. "I passed out?" she asked, confused, not remembering. When? "You scared the crap out of me. One minute you're stealing my ice and the next, you fall flat on the floor. Well almost. I did keep you from landing on your ass," he laughed nervously. She looked very pale and her skin was cool and clammy. Heat exhaustion, he assessed. It was incredibly hot outside with heat advisories warning about exertion. The heat index was near 115 degrees when the humidity and temperature were figured together. Too hot to do much of anything but try to cool off with a shower and obviously too damn hot for her to walk up four flights in a stairwell that had to be around 120 plus. Which reminded him that since his whole building was without power and therefore there wasn't air- conditioning, he'd better find some other way to cool her off as well. "Don't move," he commanded, giving her a stern look as he got up and walked over to a cooler on the floor. He pushed some things around in it and she heard the clinking of ice against plastic. He emerged from the kitchen with the ice bin full of tiny cubes, already starting to melt in the absence of refrigeration. Why did the sight of the ice make her shiver with anticipation?, she wondered. Then she recalled....oh. OH. OOOOOH. How could she have forgotten? Looking down to see she still had all of her clothes on, she realized now that everything from the point of her rummaging through his cooler, to the moment he carried her to his sofa, must have been an unconscious delusion. Like most dreams, there is always an element that doesn't make any sense. Of course she would never have come on to him like that other than in a dream! Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) it had all been a side effect of being overcome by the heat. She sighed and closed her eyes, not willing to surrender those delicious images to the recess of her mind quite yet. Life was so unfair at times. Of course it couldn't have really happened. She would never have been that bold. Too bad, Dana... too, too bad, she thought. As he stooped near her, smoothing the ice against her neck, she smiled slightly. She raised herself up on her elbow and studied his caring, concerned expression. With a shake of her head and a small laugh, she took his hand holding the melting ice and moved it lower, just inside the neckline of her blouse. His expression now reflected a mix of shock and intrigue. "Are you still hot, Scully?" He had no idea what a loaded question that was. Yet More Notes I've discovered that smut isn't all that easy to write. This was my first true endeavor and most likely my last. I'm all smutted out now. So sorry, I don't plan on a sequel. Not anytime soon, anyway. I really, really did try to keep this somewhat realistic. I always have to laugh at some of the sexual acrobats Mulder and Scully perform in the NC-17 category. The height difference does make some positions darn near hazzardous (I know, I'm 5'2", and my husband's 6'). However, a little fantasy or embellishment never hurts. Heck, that's why Jackie Collins is a millionaire! But hey, be honest, wouldn't most of us like it to be like the stuff in the fanfic? As for the characterization of Mulder and Scully in this piece, I doubt this is very true to our heroes as we know them on the show. (But then again, look at some of the things CC has done to them recently!) So oh well, I was just trying to entertain myself. To Heather, for getting me to join the dark side. To Denise, for making me finish this and telling me it wasn't too raunchy and Leah, who inspires me to write as well as she does. I hope I've done this justice and my friends weren't just being kind.