From: eponine119  <eponine119@att.net>
Date: Fri, 31 Oct 1997 23:13:38 -0800
Subject: NEW: One Shamless Night 1/1

Disclaimer: The X Files and its characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013
and Fox.  Some of its traditions belong to hardworking fanfic writers
everywhere.  Perhaps this season the twain shall meet and we'll see
something like this...  ;D

Author's note: Persons of delicate sensibilities should note this is a
story purely of the "sexual content" type, and so warned, should get out
while there's still time.  This has been lightly rewritten since it's
posting to M&S, and I thank Red V. for her suggestions!

____________________
One Shameless Night
by eponine119 
eponine119@att.net
October 4, 1997
____________________

	The party was really boring her.  It was the annual fancy dress ball
given by the FBI.  Scully didn't know why they had such a thing or what
purpose it was supposed to serve, any more than the office Christmas
party or Halloween bash, but on it went, every year.
	She was wearing the simple dark green sheath dress she wore every
year.  And standing around the fringe of the crowd the way she did every
year.  Wondering if she'd seen enough people, been social enough yet, if
she could go home already.
	Across the room she spotted Mulder.
	He'd lied to her and said he wasn't going to bother.
	Then again, she'd also lied to him and said she wasn't going to
bother.  
	She wondered why they had both done that.  Like the two outcasts in
high school who were so embarrassed by their undesirability they exerted
that they were too cool to go to the prom?
	Mulder looked lovely in a tux.  Scully sighed as she watched him.  He
was standing on the other side of the room looking less bored than
lost.  She wasn't certain she'd ever seen him look so insecure, as
though he was just waiting for someone to say something horrible to
him.  She wondered why that was.  And she felt for him.
	Watching him, she toyed with the notion of going over there and
"rescuing" him.  They could be alone in the crowd, together. Maybe then
they would be strong enough to leave the party and put it out of their
heads for another year.  Maybe they'd be lucky and be out of town next
year.
	Or, hell, given their track records, they could be in the hospital.
	They could be dead!  The perfect excuse.
	Scully hated what this party was doing for her attitude.  She looked
around the room at the agents who had gathered into cliquish groups,
talking sedately so as not to be heard over the tasteful classical
music.  The women were all wearing perfect strings of pearls and black
dresses that didn't show too much arm, cleavage or leg.  All as standard
as if they had been issued to them at the door.  Or at the very least,
approved by old J. Edgar of the "Agents are required to wear white
shirts" mind.
	Scully wished she was wearing a red dress, although the dark green was
daring enough given this crowd.  She had the sudden crazy urge to do
something wild. Shocking.  Attention-getting.
	This place was definitely bad for her state of mind.
	She was thinking walking over to Mulder and planting a big, wet kiss on
him would do the trick.
	She wondered how he would react if she did.
	She wondered how the room would react.
	She wondered if he would understand her motivation.
	So she remained where she was and watched some more as her feet began
to ache mildly.  There were some agents dancing together down in the
front. They looked like they were at a junior high school dance - as
though a chaperone was going to come over and measure the distance
between their bodies and if they were too close, they'd get detention.
	She looked at Mulder.  He still had that look on his face.  He was
listening to the music, she could tell from something he was doing that
she couldn't put her finger on. Could Mulder dance?  Did he have any
rhythm?  Suddenly she was curious.  Maybe this was her chance to find
out.  She walked over to him.
	"Mulder," she said.  He looked at her and his eyes lit with surprise. 
"I thought you were staying home."
	"I thought you were."
	"Plans change," she said with a corner of her mouth turned up.  "It's
good to see you here."
	"You look beautiful," Mulder said and his eyes lingered on her in such
a way that she believed it.
	"Thank you."  She couldn't say what she was thinking, that he looked
devastatingly handsome in that tuxedo.  That was not the sort of thing
she would ever say to Mulder.  Because she was his partner and she was
the boring and tepid Agent Scully.  She sighed.
	Mulder picked up on it. "It is boring, isn't it?" he said.
	She nodded her agreement.
	"Maybe it's time to call it a night," he suggested, as though now that
she'd caught him in attendance, he had to atone by making a quick,
scornful getaway.
	It wasn't the sort of thing she had in mind at all, she realized.  She
was all dressed up, she'd taken the time to arrange her hair into
carefully mussed curls, she didn't want to go home and wipe off her
makeup and put on her ratty pajamas and watch a movie.
	"There's some people dancing," she said before she really gave it any
thought.
	"You're asking me to dance?"  Mulder said, a gentle joke that showed
her how surprised he was.  She knew him so well.  Too well.  Small
difference.
	"Sure," she said casually, then watched him to see his reaction.
	He smiled. Then he took her hand and walked with her down by the small
orchestra that was playing pleasant but tame music.  He met her eyes
with an amused look before beginning to move.
	Mulder wasn't much of a dancer.  Neither was she.  She kept glancing at
the couple to their right who were doing a perfect waltz like something
out of a movie.  Scully knew how to fix their problem.  She took a step
forward, something she never would have done in junior high, put her
arms around Mulder and held him close against her.  Very close.  And
began to sway very slightly to a beat that sort of matched the music. 
Only because if they were standing still, they would have to be kissing
to have a reason to be so close to each other.  Besides, the small
movements caused their bodies to shift against one another in the most
intriguing ways...
	Mulder was warm.  His tuxedo was slightly stiff and rough underneath
her cheek and either it or he smelled good.  A smile touched her lips
when one of his hands found her hair, playing with the curls as though
he wasn't able to resist the temptation any longer.  All the while,
their feet moved and came close to tangling, but they never faltered. 
Their hips touched and slid and moved away, tantalizingly.
	Scully could feel her heartbeat quicken and her entire body seemed to
be listening, waiting for something.  Mulder's fingers drifted down her
back and she could feel them intimately.  She thought she could feel the
ridges and whorls of his fingerprints, her skin was so alive.  She felt
warm and her mind was beginning to close down into a much more sensual
place.  She could feel her breath coming in a different rhythm, through
lips that were moist and felt tender.  She could feel Mulder's body
against hers.
	She raised her head and met his eyes and knew for certain that he was
feeling the same way she did.  The question was, what were they going to
do about it?  They were playing with fire, a fire most likely born of
boredom.  And her impulse to make a spectacle.  What happened now?
	The leader of the small band of musicians announced their intention of
taking a small break.  Mulder and Scully stopped moving.  She almost
groaned, not wanting this to end.  Not wanting to have to do something
else now, not liking her choices - deal with this, or go home alone. 
Suddenly she became aware that they had become the floorshow and that
they were being stared at and she felt her face flush.
	It made her want to kiss him, hard, even more than she had wanted to
before.
	With a harsh breath and uncertain footing, she stepped back, away from
Mulder.  "Thanks for the dance," she said in a low whisper, looking at
him, not knowing what to do next.  The feeling in her stomach was akin
to worry and she didn't understand it.
	Mulder's hand closed gently around her arm.  She followed where he led
her, into a corner of the large ballroom, near the lavishly curtained
French doors that led to a balcony, undoubtedly beneath a beautifully
starry cool night sky.  They could use the air. They could use the space
to cool off.
	Or to steal kisses in the darkness like two characters in a gothic
novel.
	Mulder swept her out onto the balcony.
	It may have been a beautifully starry night, but they couldn't tell for
all the smoke. Literally hundreds of stressed out, nervous agents were
gathered into the small space, puffing on desperate cigarettes in the
only place they were allowed to smoke.
	Scully choked delicately and stepped back indoors.
	Mulder's hand caught her face.  She cast him a wan smile because she
didn't know what to say and his hand fell away from her skin.  "Was
dancing with me so embarrassing?"
	Insecure, she thought. Strange how it could be so very endearing on
Mulder.  "Not at all."
	"Everyone was staring."
	"Good," she said.  It was what she had intended, wasn't it?  To shake
them up a bit.
	"What now?"
	"I don't want to go home," she answered quickly.
	"Scully," he said, getting her attention.  Her eyes flicked up to his. 
He looked down demurely, then met her gaze.  "I want to be alone with
you."
	She felt as though someone had put those crash cart paddles against her
chest and shocked her.  She couldn't look away from Mulder's face.  She
wanted to be alone with him, too.  "The lounge," she said breathlessly.
	He took her hand and waited for her to lead him.  She did, snaking
through the crowd and feeling aware of each person they passed, as
though their intentions were written plainly across their guilty faces. 
She didn't look anywhere but straight ahead as she pushed on the door to
the ladies' lounge.  Mulder followed her in.  There was no one inside,
which was what she had been counting on.  Mulder leaned against the door
and looked at her.
	What now? she thought.  She saw that the door had a bolt lock on it and
she reached past him to throw it, never once questioning why a bathroom
door would lock.
	They were alone now.
	Leaning in to lock the door put her very close to him, she realized.
	Mulder closed the space between them and placed his lips on hers.  They
felt cool and soft against her mouth, which felt hot and desperately
sensitive.  His tongue pushed shyly, invitingly, against her lips and
she met it with her own, clinging against him and kissing him.  It was
so good to finally be doing this.
	His fingers dug into her hair and she felt the careful style tear into
a tumble around her face.  She didn't care, twining her arms around his
neck, pressing her breasts against his chest.  She felt them react as
his body hardened against her.
	"This is crazy," Mulder said, breathless and tormented as he turned his
head away.
	"This is perfect," she told him, sliding her hands down the front of
his pristine white shirt.
	"You're so beautiful," he said, his eyes drinking her in as his fingers
skimmed down her sides, savoring the feel of the velvet dress that clung
to tightly to her skin.  Those long sensitive fingers moved to cup her
breasts, and he bowed his head to kiss the white mounds that filled the
neckline of her dress.
	"Mulder - " his name appeared in the back of her throat.
	"What?" he asked, raising his head to look at her mischieviously.
	"There's a couch in here," she whispered.  It was a classy hotel, after
all.  Their gazes locked and she couldn't breathe.  What is going on
here? the practical part of her mind demanded.  You're begging Mulder to
take you in the bathroom with most of the Washington Bureau on the other
side of the door.
	A pounding on the door startled them both. "Are you all right in
there?" called a woman's voice.  "Why is the door locked?"
	"Oh, um, just a minute," Dana called, struggling to normalize her
voice. With her eyes, she ordered Mulder into a stall.  Each cubicle had
walls that went from the floor up to above their heads.  There was only
open space near the ceiling.  Once he had gone in, she unlocked the door
and ran for the stall herself, locking them in together.
	They listened to the woman's high heels click against the tile floor as
she walked into the bathroom.  They couldn't make a sound or she would
hear them.  But the stall was too small for them not to touch.  
	Mulder's hands on her thighs began to coax her long skirt up.  She
looked down, worried of what would happen if she looked into his eyes. 
The sight of his large, masculine hands against her slim green skirt was
erotic.  She watched as the fabric bunched in his curled fingers.  Her
thighs looked shockingly white, she thought, and then he put his hands
on her.
	They were rough and warm and exquisitely gentle.  Her breath caught and
she looked at him, aware of how important it was for them to be silent
or they would be found out.  They should stop this craziness, she
thought, but she didn't want to.  Mulder's hands crept up further and
she couldn't breathe at all.
	Her back arched slightly to make herself more available to his hands,
she reached out with both hands to unfasten those wonderful tuxedo
trousers.
	Mulder pushed her back up against the wall.  She slid his zipper down
and he eased her panties down.  For a moment they paused, trying to
figure out the logistics of how this was going to work - him and her and
how they would fit together, standing, against the wall.
	His hands wrapped around the bare skin of her ass, lifting her slightly
as he bent his knees, getting ready to enter her.  She wanted him.  She
felt him probe gently against her and closed her eyes, struggling not to
make a sound.  She raised one knee, awkwardly, wrapping it around his
leg.  And he drove into her.
	She didn't know how she didn't cry out with all of the sensations of
it.  The delicious slide, the wetness of her body as she accepted him,
the rightness and the completion and that feeling, that wonderful
feeling that was beginning to build.  She wanted him, she'd wanted him
so long, and now she had him, was going to have him.
	She opened her eyes and looked at him.  His eyes were closed in sensual
concentration.  He was beautiful.  The image remained in her mind as she
closed her own eyes again, the darkness behind her lids heightening the
feelings in her body.
	It was forbidden and it was good.  These moments were stolen in secret,
in silence, and it was exciting.  She strained against him, ready, but
wanting more.  Until she could stand no more. At his next touch, she
tensed, stiffened, convulsed and fought to keep the sound and the
emotions in, to hold onto them a few moments longer, to savor them
forever.
	Her knees were weak when she opened her eyes.  Mulder was leaning over
her, his forearms pressed against the wall on either side of her body as
though it was the only thing keeping him from sliding into a puddle at
her feet.  He pressed his forehead against hers, their lips inches
apart, their noses almost touching, a distance too close for their eyes
to focus on each other.  He was breathing impossibly hard.
	His arm moved as he drew back to look at her.  His thumb caressed her
eyebrow, his palm cuddled her cheek.  Those elegant fingers touched her
hair.  Then his lips moved to kiss her cheek softly.  She strained up to
kiss him on the mouth, but he had pulled away, straightening his
clothing.
	Scully only watched him, not moving.  It was as though he was
eradicating any trace of what had happened.  As though he was erasing
the evidence as surely as those shadow bastards hid every clue they'd
ever located.  Mulder turned his attention to her, sliding her panties
back up.  Their silk felt strange against her still engorged sex.  The
way he smoothed her skirt down was almost loving.  And heartbreaking. 
He wouldn't meet her eyes - was he ashamed?
	Should she be?
	In a second he was going to leave her in here, leaning against the
wall, unable and unwilling to move or to act.  She felt paralyzed by
what they had done, physically and emotionally.
	She had to do something.	
	She grabbed his face and made him kiss her. The hunger with which his
lips met hers was reassuring.  She tried to put everything she had into
that kiss...all the loving words and thanks and gratitude and
uncertainty and shame and loss and confusion and need.
	But it had to end.
	Mulder stood up straight.
	She prepared for it to all end.
	And he offered her his hand.
	They went out of the bathroom together, sneaking and managing to remain
unseen.  She couldn't help her smile.  They walked shoulder to shoulder,
hands entwined, feet moving with confident strides for the door.  They
were leaving together.
	"Agent Scully, -"
	Ohmigodwevebeencaught
	"- Mulder."  Skinner's voice seemed to be bordering on the jovial. 
Scully looked at him, but had to look away quickly, feeling something
very close to guilt.  "It's good to see you.  Are you enjoying the
party?"
	Enjoying had to be the biggest understatement of the year. Scully
couldn't speak.  She could only alternate between horror that Skinner
knew what they'd just done and wondering what he would do if he knew
what they'd just done.  The only words she could think of to answer his
question were, "I've just had the most intense orgasm of my life," and
she knew she couldn't say that, even if she swore she could still feel
it deep within her.
	"Yes, sir, very much," Mulder answered for them both.
	Scully wondered if that had just been the most intense orgasm of his
life, too.
	"And yet you're leaving so early."  Skinner said.  Was he really
looking down at their entwined hands over his glasses?  Scully's heart
pounded. Maybe she didn't have illicit encounters in her blood, after
all.
	"Yes, sir," said Mulder and he refused to say anything further, or make
any excuses or tell any lies.
	Finally Skinner was forced to back off in the ensuing awkward silence,
looking from one of them to the other.  He had to know.  And yet he was
smiling at them - almost grinning.  "Have a pleasant evening."
	"You too sir," Scully managed to say. Mulder squeezed her hand
tighter.  They escaped from the party, out into the night, which was
incidentally both beautiful and starry.  And for them it was only just
beginning.

the end.
email me - eponine119@att.net