From: Elizabeth Tran Date: Sun, 7 Feb 1999 19:28:02 -0600 Subject: NEW: "Learning You" *NC-17* (1/1) by Elizabeth Boyd-Tran AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, this is my first MSR and my first NC-17 (all right, the first one I'm *posting*), so be kind. For those paying attention, this is not the MSR I've been promising for sometime this year, this is just a little side trip that had to be taken.;-) DISCLAIMER JAZZ: "The X-Files" and its characters are the creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. I am, of course, using them without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. All other concepts or ideas herein are mine. SUMMARY: Mulder's thoughts on the development of his relationship with Scully...getting to know her in a multitude of ways... TITLE: Learning You AUTHOR: Elizabeth Boyd-Tran RATING: (NC-17) CLASSIFICATIONS: (VRA) KEYWORDS: MSR SPOILERS: Nope, for once, I don't think so.:) ARCHIVE: Yes, Please, Everywhere!:) Just tell me, please, for anywhere but Gossamer. Sincerest Thanks to my fabulous Beta Gang. My Mom, my Husband, Amanda Wilde, and Barbara Langan, all of whom were crucial to this story's creation.:) This one is for my husband, Peter. LEARNING YOU By Elizabeth Boyd-Tran Copyright (c) 1999 I didn't know how often the nightmares came, or how bad they were, until I started sleeping beside her. Even then, it took a while to realize the regularity. The cycle through the more violent cases and the lulls. And other triggers... Children with silky dark-blonde hair. Knife wounds. Any kind of abductions. It takes her defenses a while to awaken after she does. This, too, came as a surprise to me. She doesn't shut me out at first. She doesn't push away my protective arms. She even answers a few of my questions, mumbles in fragments and broken words, and reveals flashes of the images that haunt her. And if she falls back asleep soon enough, she doesn't withdraw from me and apologize. Nothing is ever spoken of in the morning. But that will come in time. And if it doesn't, I can live with that as well. We did not make the transition all at once from professional demeanors to personal ones. Our guards are well conditioned and slow to come down. The first kiss was not so hard to surrender to. Not surrendering would have been much harder. But less obvious things have been slower for us. Sleeping side by side came before sex. As wonderful as we have discovered the sex to be, the comfort and security were what mattered to us most. We have been a phone call away for seven years of nights. Now, at last, we need only reach out a hand. Scully has not yet undressed for me in full light. But in the half-light of the moon, the clothes slide away without effort. It's hard for me to pull her into my arms any time of the day I sense she needs a hug and let go of the apprehension that she will resent my gesture. She has not been quick to open herself to me. This doesn't surprise me, but this is why we do not yet spend every night together. She still needs to step back and re-establish her space now and then. Maybe I do too. But these solitary days and nights are growing fewer and farther between, and will someday vanish of their own accord. Unlimited intimacy will be a long process for us. Gradual is the pace the gods have bestowed upon our life together. I can accept this, as long as we are together. And for now...I am learning. Scully sleeps on her stomach when she's exhausted, on her back when she's restless, on her side when she's pensive. Scully kicks off her shoes and pulls her feet up beneath her when she talks to her family on the phone. These things are new and endlessly fascinating to me. I never expected that of myself. I didn't realize how tired she gets sometimes. After a grueling case, she will drag home, crawl into bed still half- dressed, and sleep several hours, then wake up and shower and change for bed. And sleep some more. I didn't know how often she goes to confession. I had never seen the tender caress in the way her fingers curl around the rosary. I do not fully understand her faith. But perhaps one day I will. Scully's shoulders tie in terrible knots. It pains me to think of the years she never asked me to rub them for her. I almost wish someone else had done it. Almost. I never knew she owned a copy of *Little Women*--dog-eared and beloved. Stuffed into the bookcase beside a Gloria Steinem paperback. I had to smile. Scully. Her first orgasm in my presence did not come in an explosion of mutual passion torn from the pages of a romance novel. Instead, on our first encounter, her arousal plateau-ed. She gently moved my hand away and pressed her soft, persuasive mouth against mine, distracting me, smoothing over her own needs and returning to mine. But minutes later, I questioned her. "What is it? Scully...Can't you...?" "It's okay," she whispered. "It's not you." And I didn't realize until hours later what was wrong. She wasn't ready to let go in front of me. Physically *couldn't*. Not on that level. I, on the other hand, had come inside her like a virgin on prom night, lost in infinite pleasure and the blessed release of unbelievably prolonged desires. But Scully...who had let me fall into slumber afterward like a child in her arms, more restful on her couch than I had ever been on my own...Scully was across from me when I woke. She knelt before the firelight, back half turned, dressed only in her panties and bra, her silk blouse warming her arms but hanging open at her sides. I had lost all track of the time. I knew only that we were somewhere in the darkness and freedom of the deepest hours of night. The twilight where we have lived much of our life together. Watching her--unguarded in that moment--my desire-fogged mind finally cleared and understood. I went to her, our skin lighted only by the flickering fire, and she met my gaze. I pulled her to her feet, along behind me, down on the generous sofa, stretching out our bodies, pressing her back tight against my chest. "Close your eyes," I whispered. "Mulder, wha--" "Ssshhh. Close your eyes." She complied, her body showing only minor resistance. I breathed my words into her ear, hardly hearing my own voice. "You've climaxed yourself many times, right?" She sighed, winced a little, and nestled her face deeper into the cushions. And I remembered that she was Catholic. That the guilt she had learned in her childhood no doubt lingered and brushed her thoughts when she confronted her choices aloud. I kissed her temple. "It's all right." She accepted my words in silence. "Listen to me, Scully. Have you ever, even once, imagined it was my hand between your legs...?" A sharp intake of air through her slightly parted lips was all the answer I required. "Okay. Scully...just close your eyes and imagine. Imagine you're alone, here in your own safe apartment. Don't open your eyes, don't look at me. Forget time, forget speed... Just imagine you're in your own private fantasy..." She didn't answer, just breathed. And without another word, I slid my hand beneath the blanket, down the smooth curve of her stomach, over her sculpted hip bone, to the precious, warm area beneath. She did not resist. At first, I only teased. Drew my fingers ever so lightly over the crotch of her panties. To my distinct pleasure, my actions sent delicate shivers up her spine. My exploration was cautious. But it didn't take long to find the rhythm she needed. And from the trace of deep wrought tension gracing her brow, she did *need* it... A knowledge precious beyond any words... Her moisture eased over my fingers like a wine seasoned kiss. And it was a gift when her hips began to move ever so slightly in time with my caresses. Her movement was like the slow rolling waves at evening tide, gracefully rippling the length of her body. Barely visible, more of a feeling, a pulse. Lying as she was, the marked line of her ribcage was unbelievably feminine. She seemed almost more naked to me in her open blouse and lingerie than she had a few hours ago with nothing at all... I left her panties on her, I sensed she would not have removed them if she were alone. And the fantasy needed to be real for her. I was actually enjoying the sensation of the cool satin on the backs of my fingers, opposite the warm silkiness of her flesh. An invasion of her space... So much with Scully. Her breathing grew deeper, and at last the first soft sound escaped her lips. The aching need in her single sigh tore at my gut--and filled me with blinding desire. My pace quickened in time with her movements. I had to lift on my elbow to see her expression. I didn't want her to know I was watching. Her teeth slid over her lower lip, sucked for a moment, bit down, then let it go. Sucked in, bit down again. *Oh, God, Scully. I have seen the sexuality in your daily gestures for so long... Have you any idea how beautiful you are to me...?* "Oh, God-- Muldeh..." Her words were just breath. But for a moment I was worried when she voiced my name--afraid she was trying to deal with me directly again, concern herself with my part of the exchange; not playing the game anymore. But as I watched her, I began to understand...she *was* still in the fantasy. And my name...had been used...before... *Oh, God.* I was going wild, pressed against the continuous motion of her hips. But if she knew that, she never showed it. Scully's tongue licked cautiously at the corner of her mouth. The effect was intoxicating. Her flesh was warming, shaping, responding to every movement of my hand. I could touch her forever like this. I felt it begin when she curled her fingers around the corner of the loose couch cushion. Her breath grew rapid and ragged with a need I could hardly bear and she could no longer hide. Her hip muscles gathered, tensed, the small of her back pressed up against me. And I knew that I needed this almost as much as she. When it hit I felt the pleasure like it was my own. She did not scream or cry out. Did not thrash in my arms. Not Scully. Her fingers dug so hard into the pillow, I feared her nails would penetrate the cloth. She pulled it down against her, burying her face in the cushion, letting her hair fall across her eyes as the electric waves washed through her delicate body. And Scully's white skin in the firelight, streaked by a copper strand of hair tickling her mouth, was too deliciously erotic. Her subtlety, her firm suppression of such tremendous passion, was suddenly irresistibly arousing. Oh, God, I had never been this hard... It's hard to tell pleasure from pain with Scully. I'm starting to learn she likes it that way. It's part of who she is. She feels *everything* deeply. You just can't see it until you've known her forever. This is something else I have come to understand. And in that moment, when she rode out her orgasm in my arms, looking for all the world like the smallest thing could make her cry--I knew that I loved this about her. In the end, she is always...my Scully. And I have a lifetime to learn her. I have a feeling even that will not be time enough. We didn't speak that night. She huddled against me when the tremors had passed, nestling her face into the palm of my hand, and I held her tight in my arms. Silence has long been our language of choice. Not everything has to change between us. Not in the end. THE END ********************* Feedback?? Please?? Cookies provided... lizbethb@geocities.com