From: Adrienne Date: Tue, 7 Dec 1999 02:05:40 -0800 (PST) Subject: xfc: Regressed by Adrienne (NC-17) Source: xfc From: Adrienne Title: Regressed Author: Adrienne Classification: V Rating: NC-17 Keywords: Mulder/Scully Angst Spoilers: One Breath, FTF, The Red and The Black, The Blessing Way Archive: Anywhere Summary: Scully goes through regression hypnotherapy once again and remembers erotic details of a mysterious encounter with a tall dark FBI agent. Wonder who that is. This takes place somewhere in season 6. Author's Notes: If you sue me you're not going to get any money. Dedicated to Carrie, who gave me this wicked idea and is always there for a good romp. http://petpede.tripod.com ___________________________________________ Mulder shows up at my door at 8:11 a.m. Saturday morning. He's eleven minutes late. Not surprising at all. Mulder has the uncanny knack of running late to anything of any importance--meetings, appointments, hearings--but there's no way in hell he'd be late for a Knicks game. Sometimes it upsets me, at other times it's amusing to see the irritated expressions of our otherwise stone-faced interrogators when he pushes through the door, panting from his run up the stairwell. I slide in the front seat next to him and smell his cologne in the stuffy air. I'm a big fan of the Mulder's scent. "Right on time, as usual." "I had to pick up some breakfast for us," Mulder replies, gesturing to the box of doughnuts between us. I pick up the box and glance at the writing in the corner. "Fifty-five cents...you bought me day-old doughnuts?" I look over at him to see him flush, his grin growing a little wider as he laughed softly and looked down. "I had one and they're still good," he answers, looking over at me with a sly smile. That boyish charm at work again. I feel something inside of me do somersaults. I smile back softly, laying my head back against the top of the seat. We're making jokes and smiling, and he puts the car into gear. I know we're just trying to cover our nervous tension due to the real reason Mulder picked me up this morning. I'm going back to the regression hypnotherapist. My first experience with regression hypnotherapy left me confused, insecure, afraid of the truth. And Mulder's look of disappointment when I was leaving the room was enough to make me want to cry. I was overwhelmed with the reality of something that I wasn't ready to confront--my abduction. The images that plagued my mind during that session haunt me still, along with the stories of the women that I met, women like me, who had been violated like this. In theory. I don't know if I'm ready for it now. Mulder brought it up again a month ago, a wistfully haunted look in his eyes as he held me close and told me what he wanted me to do. I was his only way of discovering the truth--it was inside of me, somewhere deep and buried. We had come so close to it before, and I had to be strong; it could change everything. "I only want you to do this if you want to," he murmured against the top of my head. "Scully, the last thing I would want is for my own selfish pursuits to hurt you." "I'll do it," I answered back hollowly, pressing my cheek against his shoulder as a small tear ran down my cheek. It was a fear of the unexplained finally coming to light. A fear of the irreversible pain of discovering what had been done to make me barren. I sit, lost in my memories in the car, as Mulder speeds to the hypnotist, which is a good hour away. I can feel him glancing across the seat at me as he drives, although my eyes are shut. I open them, catching one of his concerned looks. He looks away, but puts his hand over mine in the middle of the seat. On the doughnut box. ******** We arrive at the appointment on time, amazingly enough, and they let us right in. The therapist shakes both of our hands; he's an odd looking man with thick glasses and brown ruffled hair. He escorts us into his office and I make myself comfortable on the long couch. Mulder, who seems a little more overtly nervous, paces until I look at him. He sits down then, in a nice big chair. "Okay, Dana...we're going to take things nice and slowly." I close my eyes, and shift my weight a little. "Okay." "Take some deep breaths...feel your limbs relax, and float." I find myself doing this easily; it's early in the morning, and I am exhausted. My head is filling up like a glass, filling with thick, syrupy nothingness. It oozes throughout the hollows of my mind. "I..." Breathe. The slowing of my heart is monotonous as my lips part and my body mold against the cushions of the couch. I am one with the plush fabric. I sink in. Shallow breath afflicts my chest, as it tightens and releases. Relaxed. My eyes roll back. I am not here. I am consumed by my oubliette of subconscious darkness at last. "Dana." An echo from afar. A call from the silence. I try to move my lips, heavy as lead. Words choking in my throat. "Yes." It is a low breath forced out of my lungs. Thoughts are flurries of snow blowing through the wintered storm of my mind. I try to catch them on my tongue, dancing around the wide open field as it becomes white, the sky blank, the ground paling. "White. It was white...light." "Tell me what you're seeing." I'm floating above the snow, my warm coat and mittens protecting me. I am lost in the innocence of it. A child again for one glorious moment. Strong hands find my arms, grab them, and pull. "No..." The safety of my thick clothing is gone. The white is too bright; I squint. I can't keep my eyes open. But I feel the hands pushing, pulling. I feel like I am tumbling head over heels... I fight to open my eyes. I need to see what is surrounding me, I can feel its presence. Their presence. "Hands...strong hands." My eyes jerk open and the brightness of the white haze consumes me. I am naked under a starchy white sheet. Men in lab coats hover around me. The antithesis of heavenly angels. "Noooo..hhh...hh..." I can't speak as my raspy breath escapes me. I am trapped, bound--my arms, my legs, against... "Cold...metal." My thoughts are sparse words, peppering the hazy white fog of my oblivion. A shrill, harsh whistle pierces my eardrums. I want to cover my ears but my arms are lifeless. I grit my teeth and moan, tears escaping my eyes and rolling down the sides of my cheeks. *Can you hear me? Can you feel my fear?* *Can you save me?* "Please." A whimper aloud. A solitary sob escapes my body. I hear hushed whispers. I can't locate where they're coming from. My mind? Outside? The staunch consistency of my memories won't allow me to narrow my thoughts. I see the sparkle of light reflecting off of metal, a long, narrow grey instrument, directed at me from above. My eyes travel down and back up its length, widening in horror. It twinkles at me. A warm greeting. But its ear-splitting song sends nothing but a cold chill down my spine. The noise sends me spiraling into the depths of my soul, searching out my fears and bringing them to the surface. "I can't...oh...move. I can't move, I can't movvee...I can't moveIcan'tmoveIcan'tmo--" My throat aches to scream. But nothing comes of it but a gasp of air and the inability to breathe in again. And now, I have risen. I am sobbing above myself on the metal slab. Floating, watching, tossing my head to the side in disgust when I see the metal probe enter my distended stomach. My tears are splashing down upon my own body. Where is God? *Why won't you help me? Why won't you take me away?* God is absent from this Hell. These men know no God. I need safety. *Make me safe. Take me home. Where is home...home is...* "Mulder..." I feel strong, warm hands on my shoulders. Pulling me away from the pain. My flesh is cold, ice cold, and I shiver. I am turned around, and I look up into the face of my savior. His warm hazel eyes are home to me. He pulls me into an embrace, tightly hugging my shivering sheet-clad body against his. My face presses against his shirt, smelling him, feeling his heat. "Mulder." I look up to him and he is looking down at me, concerned, a tear sliding down his cheek. I reach up, slip my arms around his neck, and kiss him softly. Relief and comfort flood over me in a wave of emotion unlike any other. I am free from my torture; I have escaped the horrible pain of losing what makes a woman a woman. We are now devouring each other's fears and frustrations by the means of an impassioned kiss. I hear myself in the back of my mind whimper gently, my teeth against his before our tongues touch. He is so gentle and loving. The room is spinning, getting darker. I cling to him in desperation, not wanting to be torn from his arms. "Mulder I'm afraid..." He kisses me to silence the vocalizations of my irrationality. *I'm here now,* his mouth is telling me as it caresses mine, *there's nothing to be afraid of.* ******** I stare at Scully on the couch. It's twice as big as her tiny body. She has been under for less than half an hour and after the first five minutes I wanted her to stop. That was when the tears started flowing through her tightly closed eyelids and she lost all ability to speak her mind. I know that I can't possibly comprehend the horrible things going through her mind, and it's killing me. But she needs to go on. She needs to know what happened to her. I need to know. I hate using her as a tool of my selfish conquests. Using is such a harsh word, but what else am I doing? I convinced her to do hypnosis again, despite her fears, so that I could learn what happened to her during her absence. And, more than likely, blame myself eternally. And now, I see her with this painful expression on her face, crying softly, whimpering. I don't want her to hurt...secretly, I'm hoping that the ability to heal will come with the confrontation of these incidents. When she started saying my name, over and over, my mind overflowed with questions. *Is she mad at me? Does she blame me?* *Did she need me and I wasn't there?* I want to wake her up and hold her. To never let go. But I can't. So I watch, mesmerized, as her beautiful lips part slightly with each deep breath, whimper, sigh, or spoken word. I watch her try to pick her arms up, try to lift her body, but she is helpless. Too relaxed. Too entranced. So I watch...and I listen. ******** Our kisses have become more urgent now, his hand resting on the small of my back as I run my fingers down his cheeks and neck. It's all incredibly real to me, a memory that my mind has concocted but that I have dreamed of many times before. I can't stop it; my thoughts are wandering aimlessly from one area of my head to another, taking patchy aspirations and experiences and pairing them together like a disconcerted matchmaker. He kisses down my bare neck and shoulders. I lean back a little, letting him hold my body up, as my arms again rest around his neck, each kiss leaving a fiery bit of skin behind. The energy between our bodies is amazing, and it consumes me. I run light fingers down his neck, around the curve of his jaw. My other hand sifts through his silky dark hair, up the back and down again. I hear him murmur my name against my ear, and it sends a chill from my head to my toes. "Kiss me...Mulder..." I whisper, my mouth yearning for his lips again. He does as he is told, less gentle than before. He draws me into him, unrelenting. The only sound is the breath through our noses; I can feel him exhale against my face as he pulls me tight. I hear my own euphoric whimpers soft against his mouth. I feel his hands slide down my hips, my thighs, pressing against them and rubbing slowly. His hands move around to the backs of my legs and lightly smooth upwards, over my ass, slowing as he explores my curves with his palms. The sheet is the only cloth between his hands and my naked body, and it's a jolt of exhilaration as I realize the only thing holding it up is our bodies pressed tightly together. ******** I can't speak. I watch the slight, deliberate movement of Scully's lips against air. And then I hear it. "Kiss me...Mulder..." The hypnotist looks at me sharply, as my eyes widen. I feel myself flush, a hot overwhelming flood of emotion flowing through my veins. "I have no idea," I whisper, meeting his eyes, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. I look back at her incredulously. Scully and I have never kissed. Well, there was the split-second touch of lips in my hallway, but she hadn't moaned like that, as far as I knew. I sure as hell wish I could hear it again. Obviously, she's having some memories that I don't recall. Either that, or we're sharing the same dreams, night after night... "I think we should stop now," the hypnotist said, sitting back in his chair. "No...no. I think we should...keep going." I stumble over the words. "We're not catering to your narcissistic desires here, Mr. Mulder." I snap my head to the left, glaring at him. "She wants to do this. We have to let this happen. It has to end now, once and for all." The hypnotist rolled his eyes at me. "Okay. But if I find that this is leading us in the wrong direction, I'm going to pull her out of it." "It's a deal," I mutter, turning my eyes again to my Scully lying on the couch, in her all-black G-woman attire. "Dana...can you hear me?" I watch her face, her heavenly expression uninterrupted by his inquisition. "Yes..." "Where are you now...who is with you?" She sighs, her chest heaving. "Mulder." I lean back, my fingers gently squeezing the arms of the overstuffed chair. "Mulder is with you." "Mulder is...he's..." She rolls her head slightly to the left, tilting it back. Her hand slides over her stomach slowly, fingers spread. They move up the middle of her stomach, her fingers curling and pulling at the buttons of her suit. My mouth is dry. "He's with me." ******** Mulder pulls away from me slightly and I keep my hand on his neck, afraid of losing him. He looks deep into my soul, his eyes darkening slightly. I can feel it. The white sheet around my body begins falling to the ground. The ground. It's soft. Like cotton balls. I think we're in the clouds. Heaven perhaps. Mulder is my heaven. The sheet slips down past my tummy and my hips and brushes down my legs, suddenly light as a feather. I am standing before him, exposed to him and his now conscious desires. His eyes flicker down my body slowly. They never stop moving. I see him move his fingers slightly at his sides; he wants to touch, but is afraid of the unknown. He bites his lip and meets my eyes again. I reach down to his hand and grasp his fingers gently. I use my hand on his neck to pull him closer to me again and I kiss him now. I make the moves. His fingers are moving against mine. I pull his hand up, and he lets me direct him, his arm lifeless and light. "Right there," I breathe against his lips, pressing his hand against my breast. A pulse of sexual intensity rushes over me as he takes control again, moving his hand over it slowly, feeling every curve, underneath and over top. I kiss him back harder, revealing to him my intentions. I want him. I always have, in one little way or another. Sometimes the feeling was weak, yet at others it was so overwhelming it was all I could think about. Now, in my state of chimerical reality, I was going to make it happen. His hand moves down my stomach, above my belly button, pressing hard as he smooths it up again to my other breast. "So perfect...Scully," he whispers between kisses. Our kisses are short, intermittent with our staggered breathing. I move my hands to the button of his pants, easily unfastening it and tugging on the zipper. Hearing it unzip elevates me to another level of excitement. I slip my fingers into his fly and gently stroke him, hearing him groan deep in his chest. He's hard already. Very nice. He moves both hands down either side of me, over my hips, running them down my pelvic bone as his pants slide down his legs with no effort from me whatsoever. I close my eyes, drowning in the burning trail of tingles he is leaving in his path. My head falls to the right, against my shoulder, and I feel my hair falling and brushing my hot skin. I try to keep moving my fingers against him, but I find myself weakened. His fingers trace the area low below my belly button, then reach soft hair, so close to where I ache for him to touch. He takes his time pushing his fingers down over it, curling them slightly until he reaches the crease where my legs meet. He slides two fingers into the tight cleft, and I moan softly. Closer. Closer. There. He knows he's found it when he feels my fingernails dig deeply into the back of his neck. He gasps, a sharp breath in sync with my own. And he definitely knows what to do now, as he moves the pads of his fingers over my clitoris gently, pressing and releasing, squeezing between his fingers and running slow, laborious circles around it. I feel his mouth against my ear, nibbling its way down my neck intently. Heaven. His fingers work at a quickening pace amongst my damp folds of skin, responding to my sighs and soft moans. He withdraws his hand and I kiss him hard, demanding that he come back...*do it more, please do it more.* He bends over slightly, slipping one arm around my knees and the other around my waist as he picks me up. I hold onto his body tightly, kissing him again. He manages to lay me on the fluffy cotton ball clouds, and kneels beside my hips, his hand moving up the inside of my thigh. I bend my legs at the knees, slightly parted, my hand sliding over my stomach. He's teasing me with his fingers, as they trail down one thigh, across my hot sex, and up the other. Over, and over, and over. "Mulder...just..." I moan, moving my hips slightly. He smiles and kisses my knees, moving between my legs, getting on his belly. *Oh, very naughty Mulder,* I think as I look down at his face, something previously seen only in the most forbidden corner of my erotic fantasies. He pushes my legs over his shoulders, and begins the sweetest of torments. ******** I think that we've progressed from kissing to... something else. Scully's either in extreme pain, or she's really enjoying it. It's a little embarassing for me, really, and I hope to hell she doesn't remember this. Maybe it's not me. Maybe it's not what it looks like. "Mulder...just..." I watch her legs move, her knees bend, and she moans softly. Her tummy is moving up and down rapidly with her sharp pants... I guess that theory is shot to hell. I feel myself getting hot from her noises, her movements. *Damn it.* *Jesus.* I adjust myself in the chair, putting my hands in my lap, trying to cover what seems to be coming up. I look over at the hypnotist, and he's writing. He had better not be thinking what I'm thinking...I'll kick his ass. I just wish I could get inside her mind. I wish that I was really and truly... inside of her. *Down, boy.* I don't know how long I can let this happen. I feel like I'm-- "Yes, Mulder...mmmmm..." I feel like I need to listen a little bit longer. ******** His tongue is working wonders down under. I grip the ground, moaning and moving my hips against him. He won't let up; he won't let me writhe away. He has a couple fingers inside of me, sliding in and out furiously, as he caresses my clit with his tongue, using a wide variety of speeds and consistencies. My thoughts are clouded with the incredible pleasure of sexual gratification, this redemption of years of fantasy, both of which could only be achieved through him. I look down and catch his eyes raking over my body, lust emanating from them and penetrating my mind. Filling my head with the excitement that is already centered deep in my abdomen. I feel myself building up, a searing climb to the peak of my arousal. I'm going to come hard for him. I am gritting my teeth, holding it back, clenching my muscles against his fingers as I begin my freefall to orgasm. It only makes him work faster. "Mulder, I'm coming." My body jerks and I pant sharply, a soft whimper melded into my breath. I feel a round of involuntary spasms begin its toll on my body as heat and sensation ripple through me, up and down again. Until my whole body teems with slowly ebbing energy, ping-ponging around every limb. And then I fade away. ******** I heard her say it. "Mulder, I'm coming." The sound of her voice is ringing through my ears. The low breathy sound of a woman on the verge of climax. My mouth is hanging open, and the hypnotist's eyes are opening slowly from his slumber. *How could he sleep through this?* I can feel my erection throb as I watch her writhe on the couch. I feel a little dirty about it... but hey, what can I do. And then Scully jerks awake with a gasp and a whimper, gripping the couch with her back slightly arched, her eyes snapping open. Meeting mine. She sighs, closing her eyes. I just watched Scully come. ******* I can feel the after effects of orgasm reigning over my body. Little spasms, pinpricks of pleasure everywhere. And now, I realize that I am not alone. My eyes are burning. I open them and stare at Mulder's face. His expression is one of shock and disbelief, but curious interest and a hint of desire. I close my eyes again with a sigh, trying to compose myself. "Mulder...I'm tired. I need to go." I release these words as my lower lip trembles slightly. The embarrassment of the moment hits me like a brick; although I could claim these things as out of my control, were they? I hear Mulder get off of the chair, walk over toward me, and pick up my hand. I open my eyes, meeting his again and squeeze his warm fingers. "Let's go, Scully," he murmurs, looking over at the hypnotist. "I should get some notes to you about it next week..." "Take your time," Mulder replies, pulling on me to get up. I comply as I sit up and then stand up with shaky legs. I don't want to appear shaken or aroused. Cool, calm, collected. Agent Scully to a T. He holds my hand as we walk out of the office to the elevator down the hall. "So," I start softly, looking up at him as he pushes the button. "You didn't say a lot," he answers, looking into my eyes. "Really, I think we need to find a new therapist because this one didn't do anything for you. I could have done a better job handling the situation than he did." I arch my eyebrow, a small half smile creeping about my lips. "Oh, really. Then maybe you should be my new therapist." The elevator bell rings as it arrives at our floor. We walk in and stand against the back wall. He thinks for a moment, until it stops at the ground floor. "I don't think I could handle...*that* all the time," he says, smiling. He winks and walks out of the elevator. I am soon to follow, my mouth slightly agape. Now I know that he knows what happened in that room. Perhaps someday it will come back as a conversation piece. END ===== "I'll show you my theory if you show me yours."