From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Sun, 26 Dec 1999 10:10:17 -0600
Subject: Quite So New (1/1) - Part 3 of the \"Redhead Dancing Girl\" universe by SisterZooey
Source: direct

Reply To: SisterZooey@yahoo.com


Title: Quite So New (1/1)
                            
Author: SisterZooey

Rating: NC-18 or 19 (I don't even know if I am old enough to 
have written this.) Foul language, sex, masturbation, uses of 
Mulder's first name... basically, your mommies would say 
that I'm a bad, bad influence and that you can't play with me 
anymore. 

Category: MSR all the way.

Distribution Statement: Anywhere, babies. Just let me know.

Feedback: SisterZooey@yahoo.com

Spoilers: Not a one.

Summary: Scully wakes up and - AHH! - There's a man in 
the bed! What ever shall she do? (I should probably take 
these summary things more seriously, don't you think?) 

Author's Notes: Once again, thank you to all of the nice 
people who send me feedback. Thank you to Michelle at 
XFFA and Amy at Haven for being my friends in high 
places. And thank you (yes, you, silly goose) if you are 
reading this. Props to the holy women and men at OBSSE. 
You guys are a hell of a lot more fun than studying for my 
German final. This is the third story in the "Redhead Dancing
Girl" universe. You should read both "Redhead Dancing
Girl" and "Talking to the Walls" (both are on Ephemeral)
before proceeding.

Disclaimer: (With a big sigh, she begins speaking in a 
monotone that would make DD burst into tears of abject 
joy.) They're not mine. I don't own them. I never have. I 
never will. What follows from the fact that I don't own them 
is that I am not making one shiny penny off of them. On the 
other hand, Chris Cater and the nice people at 1013 
Productions do own them and they are, in fact, making a 
buttload of money off of them. Can you believe that 
Microsoft Word doesn't recognize "buttload" as a word? 
That's a glaring oversight if I ever saw one. Now then -

Quite So New (1/1)


"i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine 
of your body and its bones, and the trembling -
firm-smoothness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like slowly stroking the shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it-comes
over parting flesh. . .  And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill 
of under me you quite so new."

                    - e. e. cummings


Early Morning
Fox Mulder's Bedroom

    I came to a slow consciousness at the point in the day 
when the sun is only a gray phantom, giving an ethereal 
glow to bedrooms all over the coast. My mind, not quite 
awake, wandered as I watched the walls become 
increasingly defined. I imagined I could see the room getting 
brighter and brighter as the sun rose over the not-too-distant 
ocean. I imagined the darkness of farmhouses in the 
Midwest that the sun had not reached quite yet. I thought of 
the endless straight stretches of freeway that I had driven on 
with Mulder, crisscrossing the country. They were out there, 
some bathed in the same gray light as me, some motionless 
and empty under silent stars. I thought of these places, 
forced myself to realize they were real and existing, at that 
very moment, miles from me, and felt the largeness of the 
country. 

    As my mind grew clearer, I began to notice the dead 
weight of Mulder's arm draped across my midsection. I 
lifted up the sheets slightly to admire his arm and the way it 
looked lying across my belly. I could see my feet (as they are 
comically close to my face) still in Mulder's socks. I wiggled 
my toes. It made tiny ripples in the sheet that I could feel in 
my hands. Before any draft woke Mulder up, I let the 
blankets drop. 

    He was to my right in the bed. He was sleeping very 
nearly on his stomach with, as I have said, his arm flung 
carelessly over me. His hair was a haphazard mess. His face 
was relaxed in sleep, his jaw covered in stubble, his mouth 
partway open. His breath whistled past his lips and 
whispered across my face. I could smell the toothpaste he 
had only used a handful of hours earlier. His face was 
mashed into the pillow, contorting his mouth into the 
puckered shape of a baby's. His brow furrowed and he 
stirred ever so slightly in his sleep. He mumbled quietly in 
his sleep. "Scully, I'm -" was all I could understand. The rest 
of the words were a slurred murmur. He didn't sound sad or 
happy. He sounded as if he were dreaming of our office, 
dreaming of debating a point with me. I imagined him 
leaning against his desk, arms folded low on his chest, while 
I sat in what had become my chair, making him justify 
himself. It was fine, good like that. Like that, Mulder and I 
were never wrong. I stopped him from sounding like he was 
on his way to the tinfoil hat shop and he stopped me from 
making a scientifically accurate ass of myself. 

    I had forgotten the last time I shared a bed with a man. I 
assumed it was Jack, but I wasn't sure. A man? I rolled my 
head to the side to look at Mulder again. Yes, I suppose he 
was. When I thought of Mulder, the fact of his gender was 
one of the last things that came into my mind. He is Mulder. 
I am Scully. There is a certain androgyny to us. I am cold, cut 
off to the world. No men (aside from the occasional 
psychopath) ever approach me. Mulder, on the other hand 
(and I blushed as I first thought this, drawing the blanket up 
a little father to shield my thought from him) is walking, 
talking sex. There is something decidedly sexual about him 
that is always present. Of course, that is from a distance. 
Once one had gotten up the nerve, one discovered that one 
had to cut through 27 years of anti-social behavior in order 
to begin to interact with him. He is just as closed off as I am. 
The wagons had been circled and Mulder and I were sitting 
in the middle. Our respective only obvious solution was the 
other. Not that he was a bad solution... I took another look 
at my obvious solution. He was waking up. He opened one 
eye and openly studied me for a good solid minute before 
speaking. "What time is it?"

    "About 6:30."

    "Okay." He closed his eye again. I thought he was going 
back to sleep until the bed and myself were suddenly caught 
up in the aftershock of an enormous stretch. After he had 
unkinked all six feet of himself to his liking, he settled back 
into his original position. His arm was around me again. 
Mulder rather clumsily pulled me closer and nuzzled his 
face into my neck. Instantly, I was a flawless field of 
goosebumps. "Morning, Scully."

    "Morning, Mulder." My hands informed me of a sudden, 
overwhelming urge to do something - anything. I withdrew 
one arm from the covers and began carefully stroking the 
back of Mulder's head. The hair on the back of my neck 
stood on end when he sighed against my skin. I made an 
instant resolve to get him closer to me. I stuffed my right 
arm under his neck and resumed petting him with my left 
hand. This drew him a little closer. 

    "I'm not going to work today."

    "I don't blame you. You've only gotten four hours of 
sleep."

    "I already put in for a vacation day for today anyway." He 
nuzzled my neck a little. "You can hold down the fort, right, 
Scully?"

    "Of course."

    "You're so tough, Scully." He wrapped his arm around 
me. We were even closer. 

    'It's just paperwork." Hours and hours of expense 
reports, greasy receipts, notes made in Mulder's impossible 
handwriting...

    "Yeah, this time it is. But you're so damn tough, Scully. 
Anything anyone throws in your way, you just handle it. 
Just like it's nothing, no matter what." He gave me a 
squeeze. "I wish I could do that."

    "You do. I think you do." I pressed a kiss to the top of his 
head. "Thank you though."

    "Any time." His big, sleep clumsy hand came up and 
caressed my cheek. "Your cheeks are cold, Scully. Let me 
help." With a jerk and a rush of air, we were both entirely 
under the blankets. "Better?"

    "Marvelous."

    He grinned and pulled away from my shoulder. He stared 
at me again, just like he had when he woke up. "Have you 
ever done this before?"

    "What are you referring to?"

    "Have you ever slept in my bed when I wasn't here?"

    "No."

    "Why last night then?" I shrugged, turning my head ever 
so slightly. He cupped my far cheek in his hand and 
swiveled my face back to his. "Nuh-uh, Scully." Girls, never 
date a shrink. Things like this will happen. You will become 
an open book. "Why last night?"

    I couldn't turn my head as he kept his hand gently (but 
firmly) in place. So I closed my eyes. I was rapidly saying a 
silent prayer, alternating between sending it out to God and 
Mulder - please drop this, please make him drop this, don't 
make me justify this, don't make me give it a voice, let it be 
silent and understood, let him understand my silence... I 
could feel him staring at my closed eyelids. My cries for 
mercy were not working. So I decided to stall. "Is it okay
that I stayed here?"

    "Of course. Any time. It has been okay for a long time." His 
hand slid up from my cheek and into my hair. He was 
looming over me, practically on top of me. "But why all of a 
sudden?" His voice was so soft, so tender that it very nearly 
brought tears to my closed eyes. 

    "Because, I think," I began slowly, choosing my words 
with the utmost care, "that things are becoming different 
between you and I. Different than they have been, that is. I 
have been thinking about this and I realized that I really 
don't know some of the less important things about you, 
Mulder. So, I decided to stay here. I wanted to sleep in your 
bed, watch your TV, use your shower," dig through your 
porn collection and your medicine cabinet, "you know."

    "Why didn't you just talk to me, Scully?"

    "That's not like us." His face was so close I could feel the 
heat radiating off of his skin. 

    "I know." He sighed a small sigh. "But since things are 
becoming different, maybe we could try it?" Mulder had 
been subtly shifting his body. I had noticed it, but was 
pretending to ignore it.  He was entirely on top of me. He 
was warm and pleasantly heavy and he smelled wonderful. 
He was propped up on his elbows. After a moment, when he 
came to the conclusion that I wasn't going to object to his 
new vantage point, he let his hips relax into the cradle that 
my pelvis naturally formed for them. He had an erection and 
he wasn't trying to hide it from me. 

    I rolled my hips almost imperceptibly. Mulder gasped 
softly. "We could try it, if we take it slowly." My voice was 
low. I let my words take on a myriad of meanings.

    "Slow is good. I like slow." Mulder played my game. 
"Slow, gentle - just as long as you're comfortable, Scully." 
He ground against me slowly. I betrayed myself with a 
whimper. 

    "I'm comfortable, Mulder, trust me."

    "Oh, I do, Scully. But if you get uncomfortable - talking - 
you just say the word and we can stop." 

    "Oh, let's not stop. I'm really enjoying talking with you."
I established a counter-rhythm to his movements. 

    "Scully?"

    "Hmmm?" My voice was a little higher than normal. 

    Mulder was grinning; I could hear it. "Your eyes are still 
closed."

    "Oh." He increased the pressure between my legs. "Oh!
Sorry." I opened my eyes to find Mulder watching my closely.
His pupils were dilated from the darkness under the
covers and from arousal. 

    I hardly recognized Mulder's voice when he next spoke. It 
was low and dark, a variation on the more familiar 
anger or desperation. "That's better. I'm a firm believer
in eye contact during conversation." He ceased his 
movement for a moment, considering something, or appearing
to do so."During intercourse, that is." He was being so 
gentle, so insanely gentle. I was slowly losing my grasp 
of my ability to speak and think.

    "Yeah, intercourse." My own voice was even higher and 
breathy. I wrapped my arms around him and dragged my 
nails lightly down his back. His whole body jerked, 
increasing the friction he was causing between my thighs. I 
continued to stoke his back for several minutes, giving 
myself over to the ever-increasing arousal he was inspiring 
in me. I reached one hand up and threaded it through 
Mulder's hair. I pulled his face down to mine, and gave him 
a searing kiss. He upped the ante and slid his tongue into 
my mouth, apparently indifferent to my morning breath. I 
arched my back and was rewarded with a soft groan into my 
mouth.

    Mulder slowed and then stopped the motions of his lower 
body and began a trip down my torso, kissing my cheeks, 
my neck, my collarbones -

    The alarm popped to life. Mulder detached his mouth 
from my collarbone and I voiced my disappointment. He 
scooted partway up and out of our warm down cavern, 
leaving me face to face with his bare chest for a moment. As 
he silenced the alarm, I took the opportunity to trace 
patterns on his skin with my tongue. He shuddered above 
me and I smiled against his skin. I could feel his heartbeat 
under my tongue. He was quickly back under the covers 
with me. The brief contact with the outer air had made the 
skin on his face and neck cool. I kissed it all warm again, 
holding his head steady with hands entangled in his hair. As 
I did this, Mulder worked my (actually, his) shirt up over 
my belly and my breasts. I freed his head. He began slowly 
covering my breasts with careful open-mouthed kisses, 
kneading my flesh with his hand. I could do nothing but 
writhe under his mouth and moan my approval. I restrained 
my hands from flying up to his head. I impressed myself 
with my own flexibility when I hooked my big toe in the 
waistband of his pants and began dragging them down his 
legs. He shifted from side to side to assist me. At the same 
time, he pulled my shirt the rest of the way off and tucked it 
away somewhere in the bed. I used my feet to push his 
pajama pants to the foot of the bed once I had worked them 
off his legs. I reached between us and ran my fingertips up 
his erection and he turned my name into a moan. Holding 
himself up on one shaky arm, he began to pull my 
sweatpants down. He could only reach so far, though, and I 
removed them myself, banishing them to the foot of the bed 
with Mulder's pants. I toed the socks off with much 
wiggling, which made Mulder a little wild-eyed. Switching 
arms, he used his other hand to caress the insides of my 
thighs and higher and higher still until he was delicately 
exploring the heat between my thighs. 

    "Oh, God, Scully," He slid two fingers into my body. "I 
want this so badly." 

    "So do I." I curved my hips up to better receive the motion 
of his hand. My hands were wandering over his body.

    "What did you learn -" I circled my hand around his 
erection. "Jesus - what did you learn, staying here?"

    I didn't answer for a moment, too caught up in the lazy 
thrust and recoil of his hand to be interested in speaking. I 
matched the motions of his hand with my own. "Redheads, 
Mulder." I couldn't quite believe I had said it. I was utterly, 
irrevocably disconnected from reality. The focus of my body 
had shifted from my brain to my cunt. I felt as if I was 
standing on my head. It was exhilarating. It had been so long 
since I had felt anything like it. "They were all redheads."

    His movements slowed while he puzzled over what I was 
talking about. A firm thrust into my body told me he 
understood. He dipped his mouth down next to my ear and 
ran his tongue over my earlobe. "What, Scully? You didn't 
know that? You didn't know that I've been out of my 
fucking mind over you for about five years now?" He 
withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between my 
legs. I tensed in anticipation, forgetting to breathe. I wanted 
this more than I wanted to breathe. "Sure, sure, I'm a real 
gentleman, right?" He sounded deranged. I loved it. His 
breath was hot and his mouth was wet against my ear. And 
between my legs, oh God, between my legs, his fingers and 
his erection were doing such sweet things to me... "But, 
Scully you have to know that the frustration has almost 
killed me some days. Being in that little tiny office with you 
for hours on end - you knew, didn't you? You knew all 
along. You could have guessed, right? If someone had asked 
you, one of your girlfriends, if your partner wanted you, 
you'd have known the right answer."

    "Mulder," I lifted my pelvis to indicate what had made
my voice rise to the pitch of an impatient whine. 

    One of his thin hands came down on my hip to still me. 
He then returned to stroking me lightly with his fingertips. 
"Is this what you want, Scully? God knows I do." He 
nudged against me once, twice - and began his first stroke 
into my body. I cried out and his voice mingled with mine. 
"Jesus -" he gasped and thrust firmly into me several times 
before changing to a less insistent rhythm. "You feel a 
million times better than I could have hoped, Dana." I 
stiffened slightly at the sound of my first name. He felt it and 
asked, "What is it Dana? Don't you like it when I use your 
first name? What do I call you when you think about this?" I 
didn't answer; I couldn't answer. I was altogether too busy 
running my hands over every part of his body that I could 
reach. Mine, mine, mine, finally mine. We had barely begun 
and it felt so good. In me, in me, Mulder's in me, my mind 
sang. I couldn't quite get over the fact that it was him, 
resisting the urge to burst out laughing every time my 
mind confronted me with that epiphany. I remembered 
making salad in my kitchen just a couple weeks ago, 
realizing that this was real, that we could do this. In 
that first instant of the thick, indescribably satisfying
surge of his body into mine, I realized that I had not
truly understood that afternoon: that moment of his body
in mine, of the blurring between my self and his self 
transcended real, was beyond physical. He nuzzled my ear
to get my attention. "What do I call you?" 

    "Dana," I admitted. 

    I could feel him smile against my neck. "Then Dana you 
are."

    "What about you, Mulder?" My voice had found new 
strength. I used his hair to pluck him from the sweaty 
hollow of my neck. I ran my hand down his rough cheek 
and pinned him with my gaze. He looked like a deer in the 
headlights. "I have a theory. Wanna hear it, Mulder?" He 
only nodded, his lower body continuing to drive into mine. 
So good, so, so good... but I did not let myself become 
distracted. "My theory is that you have a secret little kink 
about me calling you Fox." He made a strangled sound deep 
in his throat. Bingo. "Don't you? Cause I never, ever do. I 
was channeling the voice of a sex kitten from some 900 
number. "You ever touch yourself and think about me, 
Fox?" He nodded. "You do it a lot, don't you?" I let my hand 
slip down between us. Mulder had long since been unable to 
support himself with one hand. His eyes followed my hand 
as I began stroking myself in tiny circles. The sight made 
him moan aloud. I smiled. I was having more fun than I'd 
had in years. "Don't you?" His head snapped back up. He 
nodded again. "I bet that you do it at least once a week." 
Another nod. I moved in for the little kill. "Because I know I 
do." His jaw dropped. "Don't look so shocked. You think 
you're the only one going out of their mind in that little 
office? Hardly." I clamped my free hand onto the back of his 
head and drew his face down so close to mine that I could 
have licked his lips. It was getting to the point that I could 
hardly talk, but I forced it out. "Some nights, I come home 
from work, and after I get undressed, before I put on 
something more comfortable, I lay down on my bed and ..." I 
laughed suggestively. "God, it feels so good to lay there and 
touch myself pretending it's you, wishing it was you. And 
when I come, I cry out your name because it's all your doing, 
because of all of the wonderful things you've done to me." 
Mulder sped up, all gentleness abandoned. I had him. His 
eyes were fabulous. He was picturing it: he could see me 
lying on my bed, groaning out his name. He was frantically 
scanning my face, as if he'd never seen me before. I felt the 
seam which sutured me to sanity begin to tear. Every harsh 
thrust of Mulder's body made several stitches more give 
way. I wanted him to go with me. I opened my mouth and 
discovered it was nearly impossible to speak. "Oh, Mulder, 
when I come - " apparently, this sounded like a good idea to 
my body, because, quite suddenly, I was coming. My vocal 
cords were taken hostage. I had just enough breath to 
whisper, "oh, Fox," and drag him right along with me.

    Reality faded away for several moments. That was fine 
with me. It was like waking up all over again when I came 
out of the pleasant haze of my orgasm. Mulder was nuzzling 
my breasts, sucking gently on me. Freud would have a field 
day with this, I thought, but did not really care. I arched my 
back slightly into Mulder's attention and sighed contentedly. 
He was still inside of me, but fading slowly. I pushed the 
blankets off of us. Cool air embraced my body, taking away 
the sweat on my skin. It was a gray day. I thought fleetingly 
that it would probably rain at some point. Not that it really 
mattered, as I had no intention of leaving our bed.

XXXFINXXX

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