Title:  "The Hunter's Moon: Part III: 'The Capture' "  (4/4)
Author: Amber
Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations--this is the explicit version of Part
III. Also, sappy, so beware, if you don't like it mushy, don't read any
further. 
Keywords: MSR
Spoilers:  "Folie a Deux,"  "Little Green Men,"  "Beyond the Sea," 
"Anasazi,"  "Emily,"  "War of the Coprophages,"  "Syzygy."  Allusions to
"Irresistible,"  "Paper Hearts,"  "Tooms (Squeeze 2)." 
Summary:  Scully discovers the identity of her mystery writer and
confronts him; much pleasure ensues. 
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and the Gunmen belong to Chris Carter, 1013,
et. al.  Ronnie, the Ken doll, and the girls are mine. 

Part III continued: 
            Scully rose and moved to stand in front of him.  Her hand
brushed over his where he still rubbed his heart.  Her throat clenched; 
he looked like a little boy preparing to take an oath.  She gently pushed
him back until his back rested against the cushions, kicked off her shoes,
and knelt over him. As she eased her weight onto his lap, his breath
hissed from his lungs and she froze until he nudged her with his hips, his
hands coming up to clasp her arms.  "Mulder, I've never been more certain. 
I don't want you to stop touching me;  I don't want you to ever let me go. 
I want you to show me all of the things you wrote about.  Make love with
me Mulder, show me that those things are real, tangible.  I want to touch
them."  Her voice fal tered, "I want to touch you." 
       His voice was gravel. "Then touch me." 
       Scully's left hand cupped his jaw, fingers splayed so that she
could feel both his silky neck and the stubble of his chin.  Her other
hand moved to his forehead.  She softly traced his eyebrows, then the
faint lines around his eyes that worry rath er than laughter created.  Her
fingers kissed his cheekbone, ghosted across his mouth, then curled into
her palm as if to hold the sensation of his lips on them.  Mulder fought
to keep still, to let her just touch him when part of him was demanding
that he crush her lips beneath his.  The other part of him wanted to
stretch out every second, to let her linger and caress forever. 
Fortunately, Scully's body was making demands of its own.  Her tongue
slicked over her lips; then she leaned forward as if i n slow motion. 
Mulder could feel her breath heat his lips, could smell her perfume, and
the darker, sweeter scent that was just her. He wanted to give her one
last chance;  he owed her that.  He tried for a light tone, "Do you want
me to strip for you?" 
  
         She leaned back then smiled;  she appreciated his generosity, but
it was driving her crazy. She teased him back. "Later. You aren't wearing
enough right now.  When you strip for me, I want you in full G-man
regalia.  I want the whole suit, from the perfectly, knotted,
conservatively patterned tie to the shiny wing-tip shoes.  Oh, and the
trench coat, I love the trench coat." She trailed a finger down his
cheekbone and tapped his chin. 
      His body came alive beneath her. He knew she had to feel his arousal
impudently pressing against her.  He would've smiled cynically that yet
again he wasn't waiting to be invited to take liberties with her, but just
then her lips brushed his in the lightest of butterfly kisses. 
            "Mmmm," her mouth returned to his again, just as lightly. 
Then again and again.  Mulder's hands tightened on her arms then slid to
her back and pressed her chest into his.  He could feel her smile against
his mouth.  "I'm teasing you, Mulde r.  How much can you take?" 
            He grated out, "Not much more." 
             "Prove it."  She reached for the hem of his grey t-shirt and
drew it up and off.  "Show me just how close to the edge that I've pushed
you." 
            His mouth crashed down on hers. His tongue didn't beg
entrance; it demanded it and she willingly opened for his invasion.  His
tongue explored the recesses of her mouth then tangled with her own
tongue, inviting her to mount her own campaign.  She met the challenge;
her tongue swirled through his mouth.  He was sweet, rich, luscious, just
as she'd imagined.  His chest rubbed insistently against hers; her nipples
budded, painfully hard. 
      He pulled back only long enough to whip her shirt over her head; 
then his mouth returned to hers, devouring her. In delicious contrast to
his ravaging, starving mouth, his hands cupped her naked shoulders then
slid across her back as gently and lightly as a master musician strokes a
beloved guitar.  He flicked the back catch of her bra and drew the straps
down her arms without his mouth breaking contact. 
      The first brush of his naked chest against hers sent a spasm of
desire through her.  Her skin burned where it skimmed his;  her breasts
firmed and ached for his hands.  Her nipples were diamond points, yet his
hands were still lightly caressing her back.  Scully moaned in frustration
and rubbed her breasts against him;  his chest hair was light and silky,
but to her sensitized nipples, it was torment.  She fit her mouth over
his, fighting for a new angle, a deeper penetration, some small relief
from the hunger coursing through her.
         His hands finally moved the way she wanted, hard and unyeilding,
but not to her breasts.  Instead, he gripped her buttocks, clenching the
soft mounds and crushing her against him.  She couldn't breathe, but she
didn't want to.  Her breasts were flattened against the wall of his chest,
and his arousal was steel against her, even through the denim of her
jeans.  He lifted her, grinding her against him.  His mouth pulled from
hers with a wet suction and moved desperately across her face, her chin,
her neck.  "Beautiful, so beautiful,"  he whispered.  Then he lifted her
until her breasts were on level with his mouth.  "Lovely," he breathed
then he took one pink pearl in his mouth and began to nibble. When he
suddenly sucked hard, Scully's head d ropped back; her hair tickled her
shoulders.  Heat spiked in the area between her thighs; she was burning
and trapped.  Her jeans had become a prison, chafing tender, swollen flesh
that longed to be naked and open to the man below her.  She gasped as
Mulder relinquished one reddened bud and turned his attention to the other
pouting, neglected nipple.  She dug her fingers into his shoulders, not
noticing the crescents her short, neat nails were leaving.  Mulder
treasured the tiny pain; she was marking hi m, claiming him. Her fingers
slipped up the back of his neck into his hair. They flexed and held him
tighter to her throbbing breast as she felt the light scrape of his teeth. 
             Sensation blazed through her. She fought loose of his hands. "Mulder,  I need you."   
     His control was nearly in tatters.  Mulder carefully slid her off his
lap to stand on melted soft legs before him.  He dropped to his knees in
front of her.  His face was level with her bare stomach, but it was a
familiar position.  Her fingers glided into his hair, and for a long,
sweet moment, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek
into her.  An eye in the storm. 
          The words seemed torn from his soul,  "I love you."
           Scully was stunned, not by the sentiment, but that he'd spoken
the words aloud. She wrapped her arms around him, then leaned down to
press her cheek against his hair.  It surprised her that with her body
raging for his, calling to his in a howl of hunger, that she could feel
this sweetness, this almost maternal tightening in her chest, "I love you,
too."  She straightened and savored the long moment.  Mulder hugged her
hips more tightly.  He hadn't said those words to a woman, never.  He
couldn't, not when his sister was missing, not when he blamed himself, not
while the guilt he carried owned him.  But, she'd given him peace, enough
that he could say it, and mean it, to her.  "Love you, Scully."  He sighed
into her silken skin. 
          "Then make me crazy G-man." 
            Joy  mingled with passion in a  cocktail that packed more punch than any alcohol ever could.  She thought she heard Mulder mutter, "Sure. Fine."  He brushed a kiss above her belly button. "Whatever" rumbled against the waistband of her jeans.
        Scully pinched his earlobe teasingly.  He nuzzled her belly with
his nose then smiled up at her, "I mean, yes m'am, right away."  She could
see something new in his eyes;  he'd finally set down his burden, at least
some of it.  Then she stopped thinking as he stroked off her jeans. 
Mulder leaned back onto his heels and examined her legs.  He'd never seen
them in all their glory. "Perfect."  Long, smooth, firmly muscled.  He'd
received little more than brief glimpses of her legs, once in Bellefleur,
Oregon, once while she was in the hospital and her gown slipped, and then
on rare occasions when her skirt would ride up, giving him the barest
flash of thigh. He grinned;  now was his chance to worship her gorgeous
legs. 
          "Sit down on the couch."  Scully had never heard his voice so
smoky.  She followed orders in a haze. 
           Mulder knelt, grinned, then lifted one small foot.  His fingers
stroked her sole gently. "Have I ever told you that I was a leg man?" 
           She fought to focus.  "I thought, oh!"  He'd replaced his
fingers with his mouth and had moved from the sole of her foot to her
toes.  "I thought you'd be a breast man, considering your favorite type of
film." 
           He lifted her other foot and gave it the same attention.  He
caressed her ankles, her calves, her thighs, then began moving up.  "I
only watched those for educational purposes." 
         Her laugh was a little desperate. "What kind of education?" 
         His mouth began his hands' northward journey at her ankles. "I
wanted to learn things that I could use to please you."  He licked the
inside of her right knee.
         "Really?" 
           His mouth rubbed against her skin. "No, but I was so hungry for
you that those films were the only way I could find relief, although now I
can finally put some of that knowledge to work."  His blazing hazel gaze
met hers; the teasing and the affection shone from them; then his head
swooped down. 
          "Oh, god! . . . Oh. . . god!"  His hands clasped her hips
firmly, his fingers unyeilding, but gentle.  His mouth moved tenderly on
her swollen core. His tongue was gentle, licking and probing, slow and
sweet.  Scully's back bowed; her heart pounded as the tension coalesced
into a shattering starburst of pleasure. "Oh, god!" 

          Scully didn't know how long her eyes were squeezed shut, but her
body was still trembling with delicious aftershocks.  When her eyes
finally fluttered open, Mulder was pleased to note that they were midnight
dark with her passion and dazed. As she smiled at him dreamily, his tongue
slicked across his lips, savoring her taste. 
            Mulder stood on shaky legs and wondered that it had taken so
long for him to finally arrive at this place, with her.  Now that he'd
given her pleasure, he could find the completion he'd been seeking for
five long years. He shoved his boxers down and stepped free of them. 
             "Magnificent." Her tone was reverent.  His body was
beautiful, perfectly formed and masculinely proud. Scully was surprised to
find her desire throbbing again when she met hazel eyes that had turned to
emerald heat, and a body that was clearly so desperately ready for hers.
She'd thought that she couldn't possibly feel hungry again, certainly not
so soon, but she wanted him again, badly.  She slipped her legs up onto
the couch, grinning. "This is going to be a tight fit." 
       For a moment Mulder wondered if she was giving him the kind of
compliment that every man dreams of hearing. He glanced down then quickly
back up to meet her eyes. 
         Scully was surprised at the husky, seductive laugh that rumbled
out of her throat. "Well, that too, but I was actually referring to the
couch." 
        Mulder's body trembled as he knelt over her, gently nudging her
knees further apart.  When her body finally cradled his, he kissed her. "I
think we can manage, and next time, we'll do it on the floor."  His voice
turned gutteral. "There, we'll have plenty of space.  Then we could try
out. . . . " he trailed off as he slid into her a bare inch then withdrew. 
Her gasp and the flex of her thighs gave him the strength to continue
teasing her, ". . .try out the table, my desk, our desk at the offi ce. . 
."
          Scully fought to respond his words rather than to his second
all-too-shallow thrust and withdrawal.  "Promises, promises." 
            He thrust into her again, this time a bit farther. Heaven, she
was tight, sweet, hot, wet heaven.  "Then we'll make love in your bed." 
        He started to withdraw again, but Scully couldn't take anymore. 
She wrapped her legs tight around his waist, clenched her inner muscles,
willing him to stay, and fused her mouth to his.  She was frantic.  Animal
noises she didn't recognize, had never made before, came low out of her
throat. 
          Mulder finally lost the last thread of his control.  With a
growl, he let go.  His hips bucked wildly, grinding into hers then
withdrewing only to thrust into her again and again.  Her hips met his
every thrust; Scully felt the tension rising again, impossibly hotter,
higher than before. 
               "Give to me Scully; trust me; I love you." 
               Her heart seemed to stop as her world exploded once, twice.
"I trust you. I love you. Mulder."  As his body shuddered, he collapsed
onto her, damp and trembling as her arms tightened around him. 
 
              Long moments passed, then Mulder carefully shifted so that
he first faced Scully on the too-narrow couch, then he rolled onto his
back, tugging her on top of him. 
         Her smile was lazy, sated.  His was smug.  "So, Dr. Scully did I
make the grade?" 
         She shifted enough from the comfortable pillow of his chest to
whisper a kiss over the mole on his right cheek, just a bit above his jaw. 
"All that studying paid off, but you may have to be tested, again and
again, just to make sure you are retaining all your knowlege." 
          He brushed his hands lightly across her back, tender as a dream.
"I have a photographic memory," he promised.  And sometimes it truly was a
blessing;  he'd never be able to lose a second of their first time in one
another's arms. 
          He snuggled her closer, reaching for an afghan that had fallen
from the arm of the couch to the floor.  He gently covered them. Mulder,
in one of his all-too-typical mercurial mood shifts, suddenly turned
serious.  His voice was gruff, with an underlying tone of neediness that
Scully recognized. "Dana, I need to hear it again." 
         Scully sighed, her heart near bursting.  She lived for the few
times he called her by her first name. The occasions were rare and
seemingly only times of great stress or that once when he was teasing her
about Sheriff Hartwell, vampire law enforcement officer.  "I love you." 
          He looked embarrassed. "Again, but this time with my name." 
           She smoothed the frown line between his eyes. "Oh, Mulder,  I love you."
           He cleared his throat then captured her hand and brushed his
lips over her finger tips. "Um, I think I could live with you calling me
by my first name, at least when we're alone,"  he ahem'ed, "or making love
in bed or where ever."  His lighter tone still carried the weight of the
door he was inching open for her, "Besides, only my partner calls me
Mulder." 
        Dana knew.  It was only the people who loved him who called him
Fox, despite his claims to the contrary.  His parents, his sister, her
mother.  She stacked her hands under her chin and looked into his face.
"You expect me to call you, no, to mo an out in the heat of passion, a
name that many people refuse to believe is real?" 
          He loved the teasing glint in her eyes.  She squeaked as his
arms encircled her and gave her a warning squeeze.  She laughed softly,
then deliciously, tauntingly wiggled up to whisper into his ear, "I love
you," his body hardened beneath her, "  Fox" came out in a breathy moan as
he sank into her again.. 

        Later, Scully was again sprawled bonelessly on top of Mulder, this
time on the floor.  She traced lazy patterns on his lightly furred chest.
"Mulder, I do have one question, well, comment, really." 
       He raised his eyebrows. "I, um,"  she sighed.  "I would've thought
that your fantasies, the ones you wrote about, would've been, you know,
kinkier.  Less about emotions and more. . ." 
       "Mechanics?"  He suggested wryly. 
      "Yeah." 
      "More bump and hump? More,"  she cut him off with a hard kiss. 
       "Why so tame?" 
        His hazel eyes were serious. "I was writing about you, writing for
you. What I feel for you," he toyed with a strand of her hair, "goes
beyond mechanics.  It is emotions, not just slap and tickle."  Then his
eyes glinted, "As for kinky, maybe th ose stories that were posted weren't
the only ones I wrote, maybe I have a treasure trove of hidden stories
that feature this gorgeous, petite red-head, handcuffs, velvet whips,
feathers, ice, and a partner who lives to serve her every erotic whim." 
       "Um, sounds promising." 
        Mulder kissed her forehead, "But that's just a maybe.  If you want
to know for sure,"  he gave her a poor-put-upon-me sigh, "I guess you'll
have to seduce it out of me." 
          "An agent's gotta do, what an agent's gotta do."  Her fingertips
found a flat male nipple and rubbed. "How do you feel about one-on-one
strip teases?" 
            Mulder's breath shuddered out as Scully's nimble fingers
slipped down past his belly button, "Yours or mine?" 
            He moaned as she touched him. "We can take turns." 
            His body shuddered, "Scully," as her hand massaged him into
iron-hardness, he switched their positions and swiftly entered her. "Dana,
I think that you would've made a great Mata Hari. My secrets, my soul, my
heart are yours."
         As their bodies soared to the heavens once again, Scully
whispered, "I love you, Mulder."  And with the words, for the first time
in history, the huntress brought peace to the fox. 

The End
(4/4)