From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 4 Apr 2001 19:24:59 -0000
Subject: Revenge (Part 14 of 29) by Lovesfox (repost) by Lovesfox
Source: direct

Reply To: lovesfox@home.com



Title:            Revenge
Author:           Lovesfox
E-mail:           Lovesfox@home.com  (Feed me, please)
Web site:         http://www.geocities.com/sstormc/index.html
Rating:           NC-17 (violence, consensual M/S sex and strong 
                  language)
Category:         Implied UST then MSR, Angst, Story/X-File
Classification:   XRA
Spoilers:         Not really, but up to mid-S7
Archive:          As long as my name and everything stays attached
Summary:          An old case of Mulder's resurfaces seeking revenge

Disclaimer:       Alas, not mine.  They belong to Chris Carter and 
                  1013 Productions

Dedication:       To true friendship, through thick and thin.  
                  Thanks, T.

Warning:          This story contains some scenes of violence, a
                  rape attempt, implied character death, references
                  to incest, and graphic sex.




Revenge Part 14 of 29
by Lovesfox




Dana Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Saturday
11:00 am


Home.  She was finally home.  Scully stood a few steps inside her 
apartment, vaguely aware of Mulder talking quietly to their escort 
of agents behind her, and just stared.  It felt so good to be home.  
She moved in a little further, hearing the quiet snick of the lock 
after Mulder shut the door.  A rush of cool air teased her as he 
walked past, carrying her bag from the hospital.  He headed down 
the hall to her bedroom as she surveyed her home.

Signs of her mother's presence were everywhere, the vase of fresh 
flowers on the coffee table by the couch, the smell of her special 
chicken soup simmering in the kitchen, the sparkle on the hardwood 
floors.  Scully could tell her mother had done a massive clean-up 
job after Skinner and the other agents were done here, there had 
apparently been quite a mess.  

Mulder had finally told her their theory of her kidnapping, that 
she had been taken after exiting her car two weeks ago yesterday, 
and that he and Skinner had set-up a post of sorts in her 
apartment.  It had taken a lot of effort on her part to get Mulder 
to talk after her mother had revealed that Mulder had been the one 
to rescue her from the fire.

Even though she had still been reeling from that news, despite 
memories of so many other instances where Mulder had risked his own 
life to save hers, she had pressed him to tell her as much as he 
knew.  

He had done so, his voice sometimes monotone, other times choppy and 
thick, and even though he had been careful to relate only details, 
his feelings and emotions had leaked through.  It had been as she 
had imagined while imprisoned with Elliot; Mulder had gone through 
his own hell.

There had been silence for long moments after his recitation had 
ended, Mulder staring unblinking at his own hands, linked together 
and hanging towards the ground, his elbows on his knees.  His 
shoulders had heaved several times, his breathing harsh.  

She had watched him, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and finally 
whispered his name.  

When he had looked up, she had patted the mattress beside her, 
saying only, "Please?"  

He had hesitated only seconds before climbing up onto the bed, and 
once she had them arranged satisfactorily, with his arm wrapped 
around her and her head tucked into the hollow between his neck and 
shoulder, and her hand clasping his free one, she had told him what 
she remembered.  

She had held almost nothing back, knowing not only that he needed to 
know, but that she needed to tell him, for her own sake.  Mulder had 
been quiet through most of her narration, but she had felt his body 
tense when she told him of being forced to change and shower in 
front of Elliot, and of her near-rape at his hands.  Bitter curses 
had been torn out of him then.

The tears that had fallen from her eyes had been a form of release, 
of cleansing, and she had not been ashamed of them.  Nor had Mulder 
been ashamed of his tears.  She had been so very tired though, that 
she had fallen asleep, still cradled in his arms.

Scully finally forced herself to move again, walking over to the 
couch, and easing her still bruised body down onto the couch.  
She curled her feet up under her body, her head resting on her palm 
on the armrest. As she heard Mulder's footsteps returning from her 
bedroom, she recalled the one thing she had not told Mulder that 
day.  

That she had heard his declaration of love in the warehouse, when he 
had thought she was dead.

"Scully, do you want me to make you some tea?" Mulder asked, his 
voice soft, stopping beside the couch to lightly touch her 
shoulder.  

She realized he must think she was dozing, and pushed herself up 
onto her elbow.  She cleared her throat and smiled faintly at him. 
"Yes, thank-you," she replied, and watched him walk into the 
kitchen.  She lowered her head back to the arm of the couch and 
resumed thinking.  

She still wasn't sure why she had held back that little piece of 
information.  Hearing it while standing beside Elliot in the 
abandoned hospital's room, had affected her profoundly, caused her 
to finally and truly evaluate her own feelings for Mulder.  She 
loved him.

So why couldn't she tell him?

Because he hasn't told you, that little voice in her head answered.  
And he hadn't.  Not in words, anyway.  She knew he loved her, he 
showed her in so many ways.   She was just afraid it was not the 
same love she felt for him.  That it was a love of friendship, of 
mutual trust and respect.  Not a love of devotion, of passion and 
desire.

Through their years together, on hundreds of cases, in hotel rooms 
and abandoned warehouses, on stakeouts and investigations, she had 
caught glimpses of what she thought might be his attraction for 
her.  Sometimes even a flare of desire, quickly masked.  Heard his 
innuendos and teasing comments, wondered if there was meaning behind 
them. Hoped there was.

There is, she told herself.  Her mind flicked through memories, of 
warm glances, of tender touches, of late night calls just to make 
sure she was okay.  Images of his smile, the one only for her, 
sounds of his voice, saying her name in that way that made her toes 
curl.

This was love.  She was suddenly sure of it.

Muted sounds from the kitchen distracted her, cupboards banging, 
Mulder mumbling under his breath.  She had to smile.  It sounded 
so right, him being here with her, and she knew right then and 
there that she had to tell him how she felt.

Scully sat up straighter, but left her feet tucked underneath her.  
Her hands were cold, and her heart was pounding.  She took a deep, 
steadying breath just as Mulder walked back into the room, carrying 
a laden tray.  

He moved carefully and slowly lowered it onto the coffee table, 
nudging the vase of flowers aside.  She saw he had found her 
favorite china teapot, a gift from Melissa, two teacups, milk and 
sugar, and two spoons.  The couch moved slightly as he sat down 
beside her, his hand reaching out to lift the teapot.

No time like the present.  Another deep breath, which had Mulder 
looking at her with concern on his face, and she said the words.

"Mulder, I love you."

***

11:10 am

Mulder dropped the carry-on bag on the floor beside Scully's bed, 
his eyes wandering her bedroom for a minute.  Mrs. Scully had 
obviously cleaned up, the bed was freshly made, with a different 
comforter, and there was another, smaller vase of fresh flowers on 
one night table.  

Gone were the traces of fingerprint dust, the mess he had left when 
he had searched desperately for the clue supposedly left by Elliot 
Andercott, any trace that someone other than Scully herself had 
been in there.

For a brief instant, he saw again her bed as he and Skinner had 
found it, covered in the surveillance photos Andercott had taken of 
Scully for God knows how long, heard again the ringing of the 
cellular phone the man had left on her dresser.

He shook his head to dispel the memories, and headed back to the 
living room.  As he approached, he could see that Scully had settled 
down on the couch, her head resting on its arm.  He wondered if she 
was sleeping, but then could see that she seemed too tense to 
actually have fallen asleep.  He stopped beside the couch and 
reached out with a light hand to touch her shoulder.  "Scully, do 
you want me to make you some tea?" he asked quietly, and watched as 
she pushed herself up a little.

At her acknowledgement, he went to the kitchen to make the tea.  He 
found himself wondering if she were in any pain.  Her movements from 
the car to inside her apartment had been slow and careful, and he 
was pretty sure he had seen her conceal a wince or two.  He had also 
seen some of her bruises earlier that morning at the hospital when 
he arrived to take her home, having walked in on her without 
knocking.  

She had been partially dressed, her bare back facing he and the 
door, and he had not been able to control his harsh intake of air.  
One large purple bruise decorated her right shoulder blade, and 
other smaller, brownish ones dotted her spine.  She had looked over 
her shoulder at him as he mumbled an apology and backed out the 
door.  

Neither of them had mentioned what he had seen on their drive to her 
apartment.

He had asked if she was all right, of course, a couple of times 
actually, and the first time she had replied that she was okay.  
The second time, he had received her standard answer of 'I'm fine' 
in a somewhat testy tone.  He just wasn't so sure, but he didn't 
want to push her.  Despite their long talk in the hospital after 
her mother had left, she was still holding back.  He supposed it 
came from years of practice.  

Mulder snorted quietly to himself.  

Pot meet kettle.  

He was just as guilty as she.  He too had held something back.  
He knew that when he had told her of the week spent in frantic 
search for her that some of what he had truly been feeling, his 
despair and fear, had leaked through, had seen her reactions to 
his recital.  She had been drawn as taut as a bowstring in his 
arms, and had not been unable to control her ragged breathing or 
the occasional gasp or sniffle. 

Yet he had not told her he loved her.  He had chickened out.  But 
somehow, it had not felt right telling her something so important in 
the hospital, despite the fact that many of their confessions and 
declarations had happened in one.

He would have to find the right time.

The teakettle whistled then, knocking him from his thoughts, and he 
lifted it from the burner to pour the water into the teapot he had 
found.  He put the pot onto the tray with the other things he had 
rummaged through Scully's cupboards to find, and went back to the 
living room.

Scully was sitting up on the couch, and she looked so serious, 
almost melancholy, that he was a little taken aback, his steps 
nearly faltering.  He managed to get the tray onto the coffee table 
without incident, shoving the vase of flowers there aside, and came 
around to sit beside her on the couch.  He leaned over to pour the 
tea, and heard Scully inhale deeply.  He turned to her in alarm, 
worried that something was wrong.

What he heard floored him. 

Scully's voice, a little breathless and rushed, saying, "Mulder, I 
love you."

Mulder stared at her, speechless, unable to move.  His mind was a 
jumble of thoughts.  Foremost was 'Scully loves me'.   It was 
closely followed by 'She's confused, she doesn't really mean it'.  
The emotional upheaval she had been through with her kidnapping, on 
top of learning he had been the one to pull her from the fire, had 
done a number on her.

As much as he had longed to hear those words coming from her lips, 
had dreamed of hearing them, he did not think she meant them, at 
least not the way he wished she did.

Scully rose suddenly, avoiding his gaze, and hurried down the hall 
to her bedroom, and Mulder felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.  
Jackass! He yelled at himself.  She just told you she loved you!  
Even if the sentiment was misplaced, you could have at least said 
something. Anything!

He rose from the couch, tripping over feet that suddenly seemed 
miles too big, and called out, "Scully, wait!"

He knew he was in trouble when she did not slam her door, but merely 
shut it gently.  With finality.  He hustled down the hall, coming to 
a skidding halt at her door.  He knew there was no lock on it, but 
would not enter without her permission.  "Scully," he said, knocking 
softly.  "Can I come in, please?"

She did not answer, and he repeated his plea.  And twice more.  

Finally he heard her voice faintly telling him to come in.  He 
turned the doorknob and entered slowly, seeing Scully sitting on the 
edge of her bed.  Her face was composed, but color was still high on 
her cheeks.  She regarded him solemnly as he crossed the throw rug 
to sit beside her.

Although in reality only inches separated their physical bodies, 
his thigh almost touching hers, the emotional chasm between them 
was enormous.   

Now that he was there with her, he was at a loss for words again.  
He could feel her gaze on him, sensed her waiting for him to make 
the first move.

"Scully, I..." he hesitated, trying to find the words.  He started 
again.  "Scully, I know you think..."

Her voice interrupted them, low and husky.  "Mulder, why don't you 
believe me?"  She lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek, 
turning his head to face her.  She had shifted slightly on the bed 
as well, so most of her body was turned to his, her hand falling to 
her lap. 

"Why is it you can believe in the existence of aliens, and in all 
things fantastical and paranormal, but you can't believe that I love 
you?"  

She raised her hand again, saying, "I love you here."  Her fingers 
grazed his forehead.  "And I most especially love you here."  Her 
fingers left his forehead to touch his chest, her palm lying 
directly over his heart.  "I think I have for so very long, it just 
took a very terrible ordeal to realize it."

Mulder stared into her eyes, clear and wide and so very blue, and 
saw truths in their depths.  Beautiful truths.  

"Scully," he whispered.  He did not remember moving his hands, but 
they were suddenly framing her face, pulling her closer.  "I love 
you."  The thumb of one hand stroked her cheek, feather-light.  
"More than I ever thought I could love anyone."  

He copied her gestures, moving his fingers to touch her forehead. 
"Here."  Sliding them down along her face and neck to the swell of 
her breast.  "Here."  Back up to her lips.  "And here."  

He leaned towards her, and she met him halfway.  Just before their 
lips met, he whispered, "I believe, Scully."

***

11:20 am

Scully waited anxiously for Mulder to respond.  Slowly, the 
happiness that had filled her from uttering those fateful words 
turned to dread.  Oh, God, he doesn't feel the same way.  She got 
to her feet as quickly as her aching body would allow and fled 
down the hallway, not even looking at him.

It was not until she reached her bedroom did he finally speak, 
calling out, "Scully, wait!"  She ignored him; shutting the door 
softly behind her, enclosing herself in the silent, empty sanctuary 
of her bedroom.  She stood just inside, her heart racing from her 
flight, wondering what she was going to do now.  On shaking legs 
she moved over to sit on the edge of her bed.

Deep breaths, she told herself.  In, and out.  Again.  Feeling 
the thudding in her chest subside.  There was no way she could 
pretend it was all a bad dream, but maybe there was some way she 
could salvage things.  

Explain to him.  Explain what?  That you didn't mean it?  When you 
did, with all your heart and soul?

There was a soft knock at the door, and then Mulder's low voice, 
asking if he could come in.  She stared at the wood surface that 
was all that kept Mulder from her, and heard him ask again.  He was 
stubborn, he would stay there all day and night, and she would be 
trapped inside, alone.  "Come in," she said finally, her voice a 
little quieter than she had intended.

Yet Mulder had heard.  She watched the doorknob turn slowly, and 
Mulder entered.  She kept her gaze on him, her face carefully 
blank, and tracked him as he walked over to sit down beside her on 
the bed.  

He was so close to her, only inches away, and she imagined she 
could feel the heat from his body, warming her chilled one.  She 
waited, to see if he would speak first, and listened to his 
stumbling attempts. 

It hit her in a flash of insight.  

In the complexity that was Mulder's mind, he believed he was not 
worthy of love, and therefore could not believe that she would 
love him.  

She interrupted him, her new realization making her voice not 
quite level, and asked him why he couldn't believe.  She touched 
him on the cheek, the heat of his skin scorching her cold hand, 
and turned his face to hers.  She moved on the bed, so that she 
was now facing him, and spoke again.  

She did not mock his beliefs in the paranormal and fantastical, 
but questioned why he couldn't include her love for him in them.  
She lifted her hand again, touching his forehead lightly, saying, 
"I love you here."  Moved her hand to lay over his heart.  "And 
I most especially love you here."  Saw his eyes widen, saw him 
begin to believe.  

His hands lifted to cup her face, whispering her name, and then 
she heard the words she hadn't realized until now she had longed 
to hear from his lips.  

"I love you."  

His thumb on her cheek was so soft, so tender, and nearly moved 
her to tears.  "More than I ever thought I could love anyone."  
He echoed her gestures, touching her forehead and her heart, but 
added one of his own, his fingers lightly brushing her lips.  
"And here," he said.

She sensed him leaning towards her and moved with him, heard him 
say more beautiful words.  Words that filled her heart to 
bursting.  

"I believe, Scully."

Their lips met, tentative and light at first, then more firmly.

Scully parted her lips on a gasp of pleasure, and felt Mulder's 
tongue swoop inside, tracing her gums and teeth.  She allowed the 
tip of her tongue to meet his, and the kiss deepened.  Her hands, 
which had wound up at his hips, swept up his back to clutch him 
to her.  She could feel Mulder's hands, fisting gently in her hair, 
angling her head to the side.

Somehow she ended up on her back, Mulder's body partially covering 
hers, their legs entwined.  She could feel the delicious weight of 
him, all along her, and forgot all her aches and pains.  In one 
corner of her mind she was surprised at how easily and quickly they 
had moved from declaring their love to showing it physically.  She 
thought that it should bother her, but it didn't.  It felt right, 
and oh so very good.  

It had been such a long time since she had lain in a man's arms, 
and that it was finally Mulder, something she had dreamed and 
fantasized about, only made it that much more incredible.

Stop thinking, she told herself, and slid her hands into the silky 
softness of his hair.  She could not prevent a small moan from 
escaping when his lips left hers to trail along her jaw to her ear.  
She shivered next, when his tongue wetly traced its rim before 
biting gently on the lobe.  

His chuckle reverberated against her skin, followed by his warm 
breath as he whispered, "You feel so good, Scully."

"Mulder..."she sighed, lifting her chin to give him better access 
to more of her neck, not caring about the gauze bandages that 
still graced her skin, covering the rope burns.   

He obeyed her unspoken request, and kissed and nibbled his way 
around her neck, pausing when he encountered the white squares.  
His shoulders tensed as well, and she knew he was thinking about 
Elliot.  

She would not do the same, that man had no place in her bed.  
Nor would he, she would not let what he had done to them spoil 
what she had been wanted for so long.  She smoothed her hands up
and down his back, pressing her breasts up into his chest, and 
whispered, "Kiss me, Mulder." 

Slowly he relaxed, and groaned as she rubbed herself against him.  
In retaliation, he sucked at a tendon in her neck for a moment 
before moving back to her lips for a deep, satisfying kiss that 
went on and on.

She needed to feel his skin, his bare skin, and managed to get her 
hands under his cotton tee shirt.  She kneaded and stroked his firm 
muscles, feeling them bunch and flex beneath her hands as his hands 
moved too, touching her anywhere he could reach.  Soon even that was 
not enough, and she gripped the hem of his shirt, tugging it 
upwards, forcing him to break their kiss so she could yank it over 
his head.  As soon as she did, his lips descended again, hot and 
wet, slanting across hers.  The tee shirt fell from her fingers and 
then she was running her hands along his lightly furred chest.

One of his hands was hovering at her midriff, where her sweatshirt 
had risen slightly, the other rested near her head, supported his 
weight on his bent arm.  Her nipples tightened as she felt his 
fingers grazing her bare skin, and she sucked in her breath when he 
circled her belly button with one tip.

She teased his nipples with her fingernails, loving the way he 
squirmed in reaction.  

He groaned again, into her mouth, and pulled his lips from her, 
breathing raggedly.  "Scully..." he panted.  "We should stop.  
You just got out of the hospital, and I know you're still 
hurting."

"Mulder," she whispered, sliding her hands up his chest to hold 
his face.  "You make the pain go away."

The smile on his face was beautiful, as was the heat and desire 
she could see in his eyes.  She fluttered her own eyes shut as 
his face lowered to hers once more, her hands slipping to his 
shoulders. 

He traced her lips with his tongue, before pulling the lower one 
into his mouth, between his teeth.  He sucked at it for long 
seconds and then released it, lathing it with his tongue again.  

She surged her head upwards and caught his lips with hers, 
encouraging him to kiss her once more.

Neither one heard the sound of the key in the lock, nor had they 
seen the note left by Margaret Scully, telling them she was out 
buying groceries and would be back in one hour.  The breeze from 
them opening the door when they came in had blown it off the 
coffee table to land on the floor.

***

11:45am

Mulder was not sure what heaven was supposed to be like, but if 
it was anything like the feel of lying with Scully in his arms, 
he was prepared to die happy.  Of course, it helped immensely 
that she had just declared her love for him, as he had for her.  

Something he had hoped for, but never quite believed.

He moved his lips against hers, her mouth warm and inviting.  
Begging to be explored. Their tongues met, teasing and stabbing. 
He held her head by his hands fisted loosely in her hair, and 
turned it slightly, deepening the kiss.  He could feel her hands, 
at his hips, holding him to her, and his legs were tangled with 
hers.  He couldn't even remember kicking off his shoes, but he 
must have at some point.  Scully had shed hers as well; he could 
feel one sock clad foot rubbing along his calf.

She moved her hands then, to slide into his hair, sending goose 
bumps rising all over his flesh, and pulled his lips from hers 
to slide to her jaw, following along it to her ear.  He traced 
it with the tip of his tongue, hearing her moan, and nipped at 
her earlobe.  

Her answering shiver made him chuckle, and he breathed into her 
neck, "You feel so good, Scully."  The words seemed inadequate.  

She sighed his name, and tilted her head back, an invitation if 
he ever saw one.  One he would not refuse.  He kissed and sucked 
and bit along her neck, and then felt the obstruction against his 
lips, almost like being doused with cold water.  

Bandages.  Covering the rope burns.  He saw the Polaroid in his 
mind, the one that Elliot had taken of Scully with the rope 
around her neck, and couldn't help the tensing of his body.  

Scully seemed to sense where his thoughts had gone, as she 
somehow always could, and moved her hands up and down his back 
rhythmically, soothingly.  She thrust her breasts into his chest, 
the hard points of her nipples teasing him, and whispered, 
"Kiss me, Mulder."

How could he resist?  He banished the image, hopefully forever, 
and relaxed into her embrace.  Before he could oblige her, she 
rubbed herself against him again, making him groan.  He swooped 
down and bit at her neck before moving back to her lips.

He could lose himself in their kiss. 

Mulder felt her hands, sliding under his tee shirt, touching, 
stroking, and working at the muscles there.  His body responded 
automatically, the muscles jumping beneath her fingertips.  His 
hands became busy as well, touching her hair, her face, but not 
yet straying out of the safe zones.  

Scully surprised him by pulling his tee shirt up, and he was 
forced to break their kiss in order for her to remove it 
completely. Once she had, he dived back down to her luscious lips, 
thrilling to the feel of her hands on his bare chest.

He had to shift his body, his jeans were extremely tight.  He 
ended up supporting himself on one arm, lying beside her head, 
their lips still joined.  With his other hand, he teased the 
narrow ribbon of flesh at the waistband of her sweatpants.  
Her sweatshirt had moved up a little when they had fallen back 
onto the bed.  Her skin was soft and warm, a caress on his 
fingertips.  He let one finger stroke around her belly button, 
feeling her stomach tighten as she sucked in a breath.  

She scratched at his nipples, and they hardened immediately, 
making him shiver.  She smiled beneath his lips, and he groaned 
into her mouth.  

He wanted to tear off his jeans, strip away her sweat pants...He 
broke the kiss, panting for air.  They couldn't.  It was too soon.  
For God's sake, she had just got out of the hospital, and he knew 
she was still in pain.  He said that to her, almost gasping the 
words, and her hands left his chest to cup his face.

Her words blew him away again.  He made her pain go away?  
This incredible woman in his arms, did she realize the impact her 
words had on him?  

He smiled, so in awe of her, wanting her so very badly.  He 
watched her eyes close as he descended to claim her lips.  Her 
lower lip beckoned, and he traced them both before drawing it into 
his mouth, sucking gently.  He bathed it with his tongue again, 
but she had other ideas.  She moved, searching for his lips with 
her own.

Mulder's hand squeezed her hip once before moving upwards beneath 
the sweatshirt, aware of her hands once again on his chest, 
alternately stroking and scratching his skin.  His fingers grazed 
the underside of one breast, and she thrust upwards in reaction, 
encouraging him on. 

Emboldened, he cupped the fullness in his hand, his thumb flicking 
over her hard nipple.  She obviously liked it, for she began 
sucking on his tongue, her legs moving restlessly amid his.

The blood had long since rushed to his groin, but at her action, 
he hardened even more.  His hips began thrusting lightly, nudging 
his erection into her thigh.  Scully shifted so that he was 
pushing against the juncture of her legs.  They both groaned.

A voice called out then, startling them both.

"Dana, honey, are you all right?"

Mrs. Scully.

Mulder pulled away from Scully so fast that he actually fell off 
the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud and a muffled groan.  
He rolled onto his back and from his perch, jean-clad legs sprawled, 
and the bulge of his erection still apparent despite the double 
shocks, he watched as a very sexy-looking Scully scrambled off the 
bed.  

Her hands first tugged her sweatshirt straight, and then went up 
to stroke through her hair, which had been lovingly mussed by his
hands.

From the other room came, "Dana?  Fox?"

"Are you okay, Mulder?" she whispered, her cheeks flushed bright 
red.  She bent slightly, offering a hand to help pull him up.

"Define 'okay'," he whispered back, eyes flicking from her face 
to his groin.  

She obediently followed his gaze, and although her cheeks 
reddened further, she actually smirked, her eyes shining with 
arousal and humor. 
He waved her off, saying, "Go reassure your mother.  I'll be 
out in a second."

She nodded, glancing at the partially open door, and then with a 
slow, devastatingly sexy smile, whispered, "I love you."

Mulder watched her leave, admiring the sway of her hips, and 
waited until she crossed the threshold before calling softly, 
"Scully?"  

She looked back over her shoulder and lifting up slightly, he 
blew her a kiss.  Once she was out of sight, he let his head 
fall back to the floor with another thud.  Maybe the pain would 
help make Junior go away.  Or an ice-cold shower.  

Knowing that was out of the question right now, he sat up and 
took several slow, deep breaths.  He thought about Tooms, his 
hands touching the man's bile.  He thought about kissing his 
grandmother.  He thought about Frohike in a black leather corset.   
Finally he felt his desire ebbing, even as he wondered where 
the hell that image of Frohike had come from.  

The passion-heated sweat on his body had cooled, and he realized 
he was bare-chested.  He gained his feet and found his tee shirt 
tossed in the middle of Scully's bed.  He grabbed it and slipped 
it on, then ran his hands through his hair, trying to tame it a 
little, knowing the spikes were probably going every which way.

As he headed down the hallway, he could hear Scully and her mother's 
voices, coming from the kitchen.  Mrs. Scully asking Scully if she 
had a fever, saying that her cheeks were flushed.  Mulder smiled 
to himself, thinking, the best kind of fever there is, Mrs. Scully.  

He entered just in time to see Mrs. Scully's hand slide from 
Scully's face, where she must have been checking her daughter's 
forehead for a temperature.  Scully looked at him with an 
embarrassed smile.  

"Hi, Mrs. Scully," he said brightly.  "We were just putting Scully's 
stuff away."

"Hello, Fox," Mrs. Scully answered, turning to face him.  She had a 
hard to read smile on her face.  "So Dana was just telling me.  That 
was very nice of you to help her, Fox."  She turned to the stove and 
busied herself with the teakettle. "Oh, and Fox?" she called out, to 
get his attention.  Her next words were bland. "Your tee shirt's on 
inside out."

Mulder felt his cheeks go red.

Bus-ted.

***

11:45 am

Margaret Scully thanked Agent Andrews for helping her carry the 
grocery bags in to Dana's apartment. After unlocking the door, and 
accepting the bags back, she nudged it open with her hip.  She saw 
that he waited until she had put the groceries down on a side table 
and then closed the door, locking it behind her.  She turned back, 
staring with curiosity at the empty living room.

Fox and Dana had to be back by now, Agent Andrews had pointed out 
the agents assigned to them sitting in an unmarked car just a few 
spots down from the front of the building.  She advanced further, 
wondering if perhaps Dana was not feeling well, and had gone to 
bed.  She heard something then, almost like a moan, and stopped 
in her tracks. 

"Dana, honey, are you all right?" she called out.  

A thud answered her query.

She took a cautious step in the direction the sounds had come 
from, her daughter's bedroom.  Her mind whirled with thoughts, her 
heart started to pound.  Was Dana hurt?  Was there someone else 
in the apartment?  Taking a firm rein on her emotions, she called 
out, "Dana?  Fox?"

She heard the faint sounds of voices, and then Dana was coming out 
of her bedroom, walking towards her.

"Sorry, Mom...we...Mulder was just helping me with...some things," 
Dana said, and she seemed flustered, not quite together.  

Margaret watched as Dana's eyes scanned the room and lit on the 
grocery bags on the side table.  "Um, are those groceries Mom?"  
She asked.  "I think I could go for some tea and toast."

Margaret saw that Dana was headed towards the side table, and 
moved to grab the bags before her daughter could.  "Let me get 
those, dear," she said, and lifted both bags.  "We'll get these 
to the kitchen and I'll make some tea."  

Dana trailed obediently behind her into the kitchen and leaned 
against the counter as her mother busied herself putting the 
items away.  "You were out of a lot of staples, and I picked up 
some chicken to make you some homemade soup," she commented.

After placing the milk and butter in the fridge and shutting the 
door, she turned to her daughter, curious about her silence.  She 
took a closer look at Dana and saw that her cheeks were flushed.  
"Dana, are you feeling all right?  Do you need to take a 
painkiller?"
 
"No, Mom, I'm fine, really," Dana replied.  

Her hands played with her hair, nervously it seemed to Margaret.

"Are you sure?" she continued, striding over to Dana's side, one 
hand lifting to her daughter's forehead, to check her temperature.  
"Do you have a fever?  Your cheeks are all flushed."  Yet Dana's 
skin was only slightly warm.  She was aware of Fox walking into 
the kitchen, saw Dana smile a little. She studied Dana a moment 
longer.  If she wasn't mistaken, Dana's mouth looked swollen.  

Kiss-swollen.

Fox spoke then, saying, "Hi, Mrs. Scully.  We were just putting 
Scully's stuff away."  

He spoke so heartily that she immediately knew something was 
afoot.  She turned to face Fox, saying, "Hello, Fox," and saw that 
his tee shirt was reversed.  It took her a moment, but two plus 
two definitely equals four.  As well, there was the fact that she 
had raised four children and had experienced teenage hormones and 
first loves.  Now of course Dana and Fox were not teenagers, but 
there were like them in some ways, fumbling towards something 
deeper and more profound than friendship.

She had to work hard to control the smile that wanted to escape.  
She knew she should be shocked, or even disappointed that Dana and 
Fox had been...fooling around in Dana's bedroom, but was just so 
tickled pink, and even a little bit relieved, that she couldn't 
be.   

And the fact remained that they were adults.  She was not that naive 
that she believed Dana was a virgin, nor Fox, and despite the 
teachings of the Catholic faith about pre-marital sex and 
abstinence, she also believed her daughter had to make her own 
choices and decisions.  As had her other children.

"So Dana was just telling me," she continued.  "That was very nice 
of you to help her, Fox."  Despite her pleasure that Dana and Fox 
finally seemed to be headed in the right direction, she still 
couldn't resist the urge to tweak them both.  She turned to the 
stove to get the tea kettle and said, "Oh, and Fox?  Your tee 
shirt's on inside out."  She was proud of how blase she sounded.

A strangled sound came from Dana, and then what sounded like a 
giggle.  Margaret glanced at her daughter, to see her with one hand 
over her mouth, her cheeks redder than before.  She looked over her 
shoulder at Fox, to see that his cheeks too were blazing.

Yet he met her eyes.  In his were an apology and a plea.

No wonder her daughter couldn't resist him.  His puppy dog look, 
waiting to be scolded or chided. Margaret smiled at him, a huge, 
happy grin, signifying her acceptance of what had happened, and 
saw him relax, saw the light return to his eyes.  

He smiled back, a thank-you, and said, "I'll be right back."  He 
shot a look at Dana, and a quick wink, and headed out of the 
kitchen.

Margaret gave Dana a few minutes to get composed, and busied 
herself with filling the kettle with water.  She didn't see the 
tea tray, or the pot, and instead pulled the loaf of bread out 
of the fridge, for toasting, and retrieved a jar of marmalade and 
one of jam.

She was very aware of Dana just to her left, and imagined her 
fidgeting like she had as a child when she had something to say, 
but difficulty getting the words out.  She had learned that it was 
best to wait it out and let Dana find them on her own.

"Mom..." spoken softly.

Margaret waited, keeping her hands busy.  Popping slices of bread 
in the toaster, putting the jam and marmalade in little bowls.

The next words were rushed, almost breathless. "I love him."

Margaret stopped and turned to face Dana.  "I know, baby," she 
said.  Two steps and she was pulling Dana into her arms, feeling 
Dana's arms wrap around her tightly.  "And he loves you," she 
whispered into her daughter's hair.  She felt Dana nod against 
her shoulder, and closed her eyes on the rush of tears that 
threatened.  "I'm glad, baby."

She heard what sounded like a sniffle, and pulled back slightly 
so she could look at Dana's face.  Their eyes met, both watery, and 
then they smiled at each other.  Margaret gave Dana one last squeeze 
and then released her.  

"Enough of this, or we'll both be bawling, and poor Fox won't know 
what to do."

She was rewarded by Dana's surprised laugh, and a nod of agreement.  
"Now where are your tea things, dear?" she asked.

Dana blushed again, which made her smile anew.  "They're...um, on 
the coffee table," Dana replied.  "Mulder made tea, but we..." her 
voice trailed off.  

Fox walked in just then, tee shirt on correctly this time, saying, 
"I heard my name.  What did I do?"

This time, Margaret laughed.  The puzzled look in his eyes made her 
laugh harder.  Dana started to snicker too, and Fox backed away 
slowly, looking from her to Dana.  Margaret took a deep breath and 
then said, "I'm sorry, Fox.  It's nothing.  Could you bring me the 
tea tray from the other room?"  

At the sudden intake of breath from him, Margaret knew he had 
figured out what was so funny.

The grin he gave her was unrepentant, because she had in sort 
given them her blessing, Margaret guessed, and then he nodded, 
leaving the room to fetch the tray.

When he returned with it, she told them to go sit down and that 
she would bring everything out in a minute.  She was pleased to 
see Fox take Dana's hand to lead her out of the kitchen.  

In minutes the tea and toast was ready, and Margaret joined them 
in the other room.  Fox jumped up from his perch on the couch 
beside Dana to take the tray from her and placed it on the coffee 
table.  She sat down in the wing chair and they settled back for 
their little repast.  

***

3:00 pm

Scully sighed after she shut the door and locked it.  She loved her 
mother dearly, but she had really been ready for her to leave a 
while ago.  

It had also become a little bit awkward when she learned that both 
Mulder and her mother had plans to stay with her.  She valued her 
independence, always had, and having either one of them around would 
be tough enough.  Both would be impossible.

Yet after only a few minutes of what had started out to be a tense 
standoff, her mother had capitulated, rather easily, now that she 
thought about it further, and said that Mulder was the better 
choice.  That he would be there for her protection.  

She had nearly bristled at that, about to vehemently protest that 
she could look after herself, when she had seen the look in Mulder's 
eyes.

She had seen fear.  Fear for her safety.  And fear that somehow, 
despite all that she had said, she had not meant what she had told 
him.  She had almost cried.  Instead, she had crossed to his side 
and slid her arm around his waist, insinuating her body tightly 
against his, and agreed with her mother.  Mulder's exhalation of 
relief had been audible only to her, and she had felt the shudder 
that had run through him.  

His arm had come up around her shoulders and squeezed briefly in 
return, before he moved over to the side table to pick up her 
phone.  He had called the agents down in the car, requesting that 
Agent Andrews return to the apartment to take her mother home.  He 
had then said he would clean up, and carried the tea tray back into 
the kitchen.  The sound of running water and cupboards being opened 
and shut had soon followed.

Scully realized her body had stiffened up from sitting on the couch 
so long after they had eaten their light lunch, and she walked 
slowly and carefully from the door into the kitchen to check on the 
pot of soup her mother had left simmering on the stove.  Mulder had 
done a quick clean-up only, rinsing the dishes and leaving them in 
the sink.  She stared at them for a moment, and decided she really 
didn't feel like tidying up right now.  She was actually a little 
tired too.

The aroma of the chicken broth had been wafting through the entire 
apartment for some time now, teasing her appetite.  She decided to 
check on it before going to lie down, and lifted the lid of the pot, 
releasing a cloud of steam and more of the delicious smell. She gave 
it a slow stir.  It would be perfect by dinnertime, along with the 
loaf of crusty bread her mother had also picked up.  

She replaced the lid and headed to her bedroom to find the 
prescription painkillers given by the doctor upon her release.  She 
hated to admit a weakness, and knew Mulder would go overboard in 
taking care of her.  As she thought more on that, she admitted to 
herself that it wouldn't exactly be a bad thing, being taken care of 
by Mulder.

She paused at the doorway, leaning on the wood jamb, watching Mulder 
trying to unpack her bag from the hospital.  

He looked up as if sensing her there, and straightened slowly, her 
bra dangling from his fingers.  He was smiling, and Scully was 
unsure of whether it was because of her lingerie in his hand, or 
because he was happy to see her.

"I don't think that will fit you, Mulder," she murmured, smiling 
back at him.  

His eyes crinkled in confusion, and she nodded towards his hand.  
He held up the bra, and she was rewarded with the second Mulder 
blush of the day.  "Uh..." he started to say.

Her smile widened.  It was so rarely that she got the upper hand 
with Mulder; it was usually he who had her tongue tied and fighting 
off a blush or a smile.  "And it's really not your color," she 
continued, walking towards him.

"Funny lady," he finally replied.  Not to be outdone though, he held 
it up to his chest, and struck a pose.  "Are you sure it's not me?"

"Mulder!" she exclaimed, trying to pull it from his grasp.  "You're 
starting to worry me.  Please don't tell me you like wearing women's 
clothing."

He waggled his eyebrows up and down.  "Only yours, Scully," he 
replied.  "Only yours."

Her struggles to get the bra from him knocked them both over, onto 
her bed, with her landing on top of Mulder.  He was wiggling too, 
and his elbow happened to catch her in the ribs, right over one of 
her bruises.  She could not contain her hiss of pain.

Mulder froze instantly, all traces of humor vanished.  "Oh, Jesus, 
Scully, I'm sorry!" he cried out, scrambling to roll her gently off 
of him.  His hands moved from her arms to her hair and back to her 
arms again, unsure of where to rest them.  "Scully, are you okay?  
I'm so sorry."

Scully heard the absolute panic in his voice, and managed to rise to 
a sitting position.  "Mulder, I'm okay, really.  You just hit a sore 
spot, that's all.  I'm fine," she hastened to reassure him.

"You're sure?" he asked, his hazel eyes running over her face, 
searching for evidence that she was hiding her pain from him.  One 
hand came up to stroke a strand of hair back behind her ear.  It was 
shaking slightly.

She reached up and grabbed the hand, bringing it to her lips to 
press a kiss on it.  "I'm sure, Mulder.  I'm okay," she replied.  
She shifted her body, grimacing a little.  

Seeing his eyes narrow and his mouth open to protest, she added, 
"I'm a little stiff and sore, Mulder, but not because of anything 
you or I did.  It's bound to happen, and will probably last a couple 
more days.  I just need to take a painkiller and lie down for a 
little while, okay?"

He finally relaxed, and leaning down, pressed a kiss on her cheek.  
"Thank-you, Scully," he breathed.

"For what?" she asked, tilting her head sideways, a little perplexed.

"For really telling me how you are, instead of just telling me 
you're fine," he said huskily.  This time he kissed her on the lips, 
a gentle brushing, before rising from the bed, careful not to jostle 
her at all.  "I'll get you a glass of water.  Be right back."  

Scully admired his butt in his tight jeans as he left the room, 
remembering squeezing it once while they had been making out on her 
bed earlier.  She shook her head at herself.  Making out.  She 
hadn't used that terminology in years.  Yet, it seemed to fit.  
Then she smiled.  

If she used Mulder's baseball terminology, she guessed they had 
gotten to either first or second base.  She was really looking 
forward to a home run. 

Somehow though, she sensed that tonight would not be the right 
time.  She wanted to be healthy and unmarked, despite the fact that 
she knew Mulder would not care how she looked.  She did though.  
She wanted it to be perfect.  And it would be, when the time was 
right.  

Hopefully that would be soon.  

In the meantime, she had a feeling she would be doing a lot of 
fantasizing.

True to his word, Mulder returned moments later, carrying a tumbler 
of water.  He went to her dresser and retrieved the bottle of 
painkillers from it, and brought both to her. With a smile of thanks 
she shook one out of the bottle he opened for her, and downed the 
pill with a drink of the water.  

Mulder put the glass and the pills on her night table and then 
helped her climb under the covers, pulling them up to her chest, 
and smoothing them a couple of times.  He bent and kissed her on 
the cheek, and then whispered, "Have a good rest, Scully."

She looked at his beautiful eyes and with a smile said, "I'll sleep 
better with you here."

That was all it took.  

In seconds he had moved around to the other side of the bed and was 
climbing in beneath the covers to lie beside her.  He moved 
carefully to snuggle up to her, placing his hand gently on her 
waist with a whispered, "Is this okay?"

Scully ran her fingers along the arm on her waist to entwine her 
fingers with his and whispered back, "This is perfect."  She closed 
her eyes, settling more into her soft pillow, and felt herself 
drifting off to the feel of his warm breath on her neck.

***

end Part 14 of 29

Revenge Part 15 of 29
by Lovesfox




Skinner's Office
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Monday
11:30 am


Skinner moved briskly through the throngs of people in the 
hallway.   His face was a careful mask, hiding any sign of emotion 
or feeling.  His fists were clenched tightly however, a clue to 
anyone who might have looked that he was angry. Finally he reached 
his destination, and stepped into the outer office that housed his 
assistant.

Kimberley was busy at the computer, but she looked up at his 
entrance.  The smile that had started to form on her lips faded 
away when she saw him.  Her tone was sympathetic as she asked, 
"It didn't go well, Sir?"

He had told her on his way out to head upstairs that he had a 
meeting about the situation with Elliot Andercott, and whether 
surveillance was to be continued on Agents Mulder and Scully, and 
that he did not have a good feeling about it.  It was apparent 
that Kimberly had realized that his feeling had been correct.  
He grunted negatively, shaking his head, and then took a deep 
breath.  There was no point in dwelling on it, the decision had 
been made, and by someone higher up then he.  Except he was the 
one who had to tell Mulder the surveillance was to be terminated 
in the next few days.

Skinner forced himself to relax, and said, "Any messages?"

Kimberley shook her head, replying, "No, sir, no messages."

Skinner glanced at his watch and decided to leave for his lunch 
date with Allison a little early.  He was meeting her at a little 
cafe a couple of blocks from the Hoover building, before he headed 
over to Scully's apartment to meet with her and Mulder to discuss 
the status of the investigation into Elliot Andercott and the 
surveillance on them both.  

"I'm heading out for lunch and then over to Agent Scully's.  I 
have my cellular, or you can reach me there later," he told 
Kimberley, who nodded and smiled.

His steps were lighter this time as he made his way down to the 
parking garage, having skipped the elevator and taken the stairs 
instead.  

In moments he was in his car and headed down the street.  He was 
lucky, and found a parking spot right in front of the cafe. 

They had arranged to meet at noon, and he was early, so after 
sitting at a table, just asked the waitress for a glass of water, 
explaining his companion would be joining him shortly.  She 
smiled and brought the water quite quickly, for the place had not 
yet gotten its lunchtime crowd.

The time passed rather quickly, and as the tables slowly filled 
to capacity, he checked his watch several times, wondering where 
she was.  He knew traffic could be heavy at this time of day, so 
he assumed she was just caught in traffic.  Or maybe she had 
decided to walk, and that was why she was late.

However, he couldn't keep his fingers from tapping on the smooth 
surface he sat before, feeling awkward and very noticeable sitting 
alone at the table without food.  

From across the crowded cafe, the waitress held up the menu yet 
again, and he shook his head once more.

Where the hell was she?

Finally, at just before 12:30, he accepted that Allison was not 
going to show.  He gestured for the waitress, and after she had 
wound her way through the other tables to his, placed a take-out 
order for a turkey on whole wheat.  It fortunately did not take 
long, and when she brought it to him in a little deli bag, he 
handed her a ten and told her to keep the change.

He ate the sandwich as he drove to Scully's apartment and had 
finished it before he arrived.  A car had pulled out from the 
spot in front of the building, and he took advantage of the prime 
parking location.  He scanned the area out of habit, seeing the 
unmarked car that contained the two agents still assigned to 
Mulder and Scully about a block away.  He made no sign that he
had seen them, and strode up the walk and inside the building to 
Scully's apartment door.

Two brisk raps on the wood surface, and then he waited, knowing 
Mulder was probably peering at him through the peephole.  A moment 
later he heard the bolt sliding open and the lock disengaging.  

The door opened, revealing Mulder standing there in a tee shirt 
and jeans, his feet bare.  He looked casual and comfortable, and 
quite at home, except for the gun held down by his side.  He was 
obviously taking his job to guard Scully very seriously.

Once inside, Skinner saw Scully standing just beside the couch.  
She smiled a little when she saw him, and then sat down.  His 
quick eyes had noted she looked very tired and pale, with circles 
beneath her eyes.  He walked past Mulder and sat down on the edge 
of the wing chair that was to the left of the sofa, leaving the 
space on the couch for Mulder, who also sat down.

Without preamble, he began.  "Well, the meeting went pretty much 
as I suspected, and told you yesterday.  The surveillance is to 
be terminated as of Wednesday.  With no contact from Andercott, 
despite the lack of a body or a location, the Bureau feels it is 
a waste of resources."  The look on his face showed he did not 
share that opinion.  "They do, however, share my concern that 
this matter may not be over, and are in agreement with the 
suggestion that I made."

"Which is?" Mulder broke in, somewhat rudely.  He had risen from 
the couch and was now pacing about the room.  His feelings were 
quite plain on his face.  He was angry, and worried.  

"That you remain with Agent Scully at all times until she returns 
to active duty.  Said active duty is not scheduled for another 
week."

Scully's face had been a calm mask as she watched Mulder pace, 
but she started a little at hearing his last words, and turned to 
face him.  "You suggested this, sir?" she asked.  "And they 
agreed?"

"I did," he replied.  "They did."  Skinner grimaced a little 
and continued.  "After a bit of persuasion."   He sighed, and 
then let his body sink back into the chair.  "Quite a bit of 
persuasion," he added, almost unnecessarily.  He knew Mulder 
and Scully were familiar with the often-difficult workings of 
Bureau politics.

Scully's voice was soft, as was the look on her face.  
"Thank-you, sir.  I know it must not have been easy trying to 
get them to agree to your plan."

Mulder finally stopped pacing, and resumed his seat on the 
couch.  "I'll enlist the Gunmen to help with surveillance.  
I've already got them searching high and low for any mention 
or sign of Andercott," he related, his voice tight-sounding.

Skinner nodded, and watched as Scully reached out to grasp 
Mulder's hand and squeeze it tightly.  Mulder glanced at her, 
and they seemed to have a silent conversation.  He realized 
that the energy always present around the two seemed charged, 
electric almost.  

Something had changed, and he thought for the better. He found 
himself wondering once again about the true nature of their 
relationship, and decided he would check on the status of the 
pool running about them when he got back to the office.  He 
couldn't participate in it, not as an AD, but he knew 
Kimberley had.  He could give her a nudge in the right 
direction.

There was no actual rule forbidding that two agents could not 
have a relationship, although it had always been frowned upon.  
The fact that they were partners, under his supervision, made 
it even more of a dilemma.  Yet they had also become more than 
just agents in his command, he had a connection to them deeper 
than just that of employer-subordinate.  He resolved that he 
would look the other way whether they were starting, or 
continuing, a relationship beyond friendship.

Skinner had nothing else to discuss with them, so he rose to 
his feet.  "I have nothing else, Agents, but will continue to 
check in with you several times a day.  If anything comes on 
regarding Andercott, I will of course contact you as soon as 
possible.  I trust you will do the same if you learn anything 
from your outside sources?"

Mulder and Scully rose almost as one, their hands still 
connected, and Mulder nodded.  "Of course, Sir," he replied.  
Scully released his hand, and Mulder moved around the couch to 
see him out the door.  "Thanks, sir," he added as Skinner 
stepped out into the hallway.

Scully echoed him, calling out, "Thank-you again, sir."

Skinner nodded and strode down the hallway, hearing the door 
close and lock behind him.  He made his way quickly outside and 
to his car.  

Once back at the Bureau, he headed directly to his office.  He 
passed Allison in the hallway, who smiled at him.  He merely 
nodded back and continued on, despite the fact that she had been 
turning to talk to him.

He was too old for these kinds of games.  

Kimberley was not at her desk, so he would have to tell her 
later to arrange calls to the agents who had been on surveillance 
duty for Mulder and Scully to inform them of the plan to end the 
duty as of Wednesday.  He shrugged his jacket off and hung it on 
the back of his chair before taking a seat.  At some point while 
he was gone, Kimberley had added a new stack of files to his desk, 
although thankfully it was a small one.

A knock came at the door, and he lifted his head to see Allison 
standing there.  "Yes?" he asked gruffly.  Why did she have to be 
so damn pretty?

"Walter," she began, for he had told her to call him Walter after 
their second coffee date, feeling awkward hearing her say AD 
Skinner while he used her first name.  "Is something wrong?"  Her 
face wore a puzzled expression as she waited for him to respond.

He had intended to be cool about the whole matter, but his feelings 
got the better of him, and he reacted, saying with a more than a 
little anger, "I don't like being stood up.  I would have 
aappreciated a call if you couldn't make it."

Her eyes widened, and she almost stammered, "I don't understand...
what do you mean?"

Skinner's collar felt tight.  Had he perhaps mixed the dates?  
He glanced down at his little desk calendar.  No, it was open to 
today's date, and in his scrawl was her name and the time, noon.  
Was it a game?  Was this how it was played?  He exhaled loudly and 
said, "Our lunch date?  At the cafe?"

She blinked, and then her cheeks reddened suddenly.  "Oh, no...
was that today?  I'm so sorry, Walter.  I honestly forgot."  She 
brought one hand up to cover her face.

The look appeared genuine.  But, she forgot?  He felt a wave of 
cold run through his body.  Maybe he was taking things too 
seriously; maybe she had just been being nice.  He rubbed his hand 
over his mouth nervously, unsure of what his next step should be.  
Make a joke; tell her it was no big deal?

"Maybe we could re-schedule?" she asked tentatively.  "I'll write 
it down this time, I promise."  She smiled a little and continued, 
her words rushed, almost babbling. "If it's not about my job, I 
tend to forget everything if I don't write it down.  It's terrible, 
I know, but I can't help it.  My mother always says I need a keeper."

"We could do that," he answered slowly.  "How about you pick a time 
and a place, and let me know?"   

Now the ball was in her court.  If she did not call, she obviously 
was not interested.  He pulled one of the files towards him and 
opened it, to show he was busy.

Allison's voice was low, but sounded happy.  Relieved.  "I will 
then, and let you know, okay?"  At his nod, she turned and left.

Skinner sank back into his chair, staring at the empty doorway.

***

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Monday
1:00 pm


Mulder glanced down at the woman dozing in his arms.  Her feet 
were curled up so that her heels brushed against her rear, and 
her head was on his chest.  Faint smudges were visible beneath her 
closed eyes, evidence of her troubled nights.  He was used to 
getting little or no sleep on a regular basis, and was not really 
bothered by it now.  He was thankful she was getting at least a 
little sleep now, even if it was curled up somewhat uncomfortably 
on her couch.  

Scully had started having nightmares late Saturday night, waking 
him up with her cries.  He had been sleeping beside her, at her 
insistence, and the eerie keening noises she had made had scared 
him more than any full-blooded scream would have.

He had been afraid to touch her at first, for she had stared 
wild-eyed at him, her body shoved up against the headboard as far 
away from him as possible.  

The moonlight had streamed into the room, illuminating her pale, 
frightened face.  Little gasping sounds had come from her mouth 
intermittently. He had spoken soothingly, his hands in front of 
him so that they were clearly visible to her, and after a few 
minutes she had calmed and thrown herself into his arms, silent 
silvered tears running down her cheeks.  

He had managed to get them both back under the covers, spooning 
his body around hers, feeling her shiver, and stroked her hair 
until she had finally fallen into a fitful slumber.  

Twice more that night she had awakened him the same way.

Sunday night had been no better.  They had stayed up late, 
watching movies, in the hopes that exhaustion would keep the 
nightmares at bay.  

It had not.  

She had been tired, extremely so, but less than an hour after 
climbing into her bed, she had awoken with a moan of fear, 
pushing violently at his arms, which had been wrapped around her.

The entire night had been passed that way.  Scully falling 
exhaustedly off to sleep in his arms, only to wake up crying and
shaking.  He had asked her after the second nightmare if she 
wanted to talk more in-depth about her experience with Andercott, 
in the hopes that doing so might be a catharsis of sorts, but she 
had told him she was not yet ready to do so.  

Disappointed that she had not chosen to unburden herself to him, 
but at the same time understanding she needed to deal with it in 
her own way, he had desisted, not wanting to distress her 
further.

She had been wan and red-eyed earlier that morning when she rose 
from the bed, barely able to meet his eyes, and he had hid his 
hurt.  He had told her he would make breakfast while she had her 
shower, and had tucked his feelings away while puttering in her 
kitchen making bacon and eggs.  

When the shower had stopped, he had assumed she had gone to get 
dressed, and it was only his keen sense of smell, catching a whiff 
of peaches and vanilla that had warned him she had come into the 
kitchen.  Her arms had suddenly been tight around his waist, her 
nose buried in his back.  

Her voice, low and husky had whispered,  "Thank-you for not pushing 
me.  Just as you thanked me for telling you the truth about how I 
felt yesterday, I thank-you for letting me tell you in my own way, 
in my own time."  

He had placed his hands on her terry cloth covered arms, returning 
her embrace as best he could, and then heard her whisper, "I love 
you, Mulder.  I always have, and I always will."  Her arms had 
loosened, enabling him to spin around to hug her tightly to his 
chest, rubbing his nose in her damp hair, his hands running up and 
down her back.  Before he could say anything, she had spoken again, 
"Don't ever doubt that I love you, Mulder."

"I still believe, Scully," he had whispered back, and by the 
movement of her face against his chest, knew she had smiled.  

She had pulled free then, and he had let her, sensing she needed to 
pull back a little, to regroup.  He had told her, "Breakfast is 
almost ready.  Why don't you get dressed?"  

She had nodded and turned to go to her bedroom.  

"I love you, Dana Katherine Scully," he had added before she had 
made it from the room, and she had spun around and rushed back 
into his arms, their mouths meeting in an explosive kiss that had 
had his pulse soaring and his heart pounding.  A moment later she 
had again pulled from his arms and left the room, leaving him 
standing there slack-jawed with surprise and desire.

Thinking about that kiss again now, Mulder had to shift a little 
on the couch, spreading his legs slightly, careful not to disturb 
Scully.  

She moved anyway, making a little mewling sound, her head rubbing 
back and forth on his chest.  He grinned at her kitten-like 
actions, wondering what she would think of his naming her a kitten.

The knocks that came then surprised him a little.  He didn't think 
Skinner was due for a while.  He lifted his arm to glance at his 
watch and then looked at Scully again.  She shifted, obviously 
having heard the knock, and lifted herself off of him so he could 
get up and answer it.  

He grabbed his gun off the coffee table and moved over to the door.  
He took a quick peek through the peephole and saw the balding head 
of their boss.  He relaxed, calling to Scully, who had also risen 
from the couch, "It's Skinner."  He unbolted and unlocked the door, 
pulling it open, and then stepped aside to let Skinner enter.

Their superior walked in and over to the wing back chair, sitting 
on its edge.  He waited until Mulder had closed the door and sat 
back down on the couch beside Scully before beginning.  

His first words, while not actually a big surprise, angered Mulder, 
and his anger had him up on his feet and pacing.   He was also a 
little rude to Skinner. His gut feeling told him Andercott was 
still alive, and not quite finished with them yet.  He was also 
worried that he would not be enough to protect her.  

Not that he would ever vocalize that worry to her, she'd have his 
nuts in a knot for the implication that she was not able to protect 
herself.  Being somewhat fond of them as they were, he decided 
silence was the best course of action.  Besides, he was hoping 
they would get to see some action of their own very soon.

Skinner's next sentence, about Mulder remaining with Scully until 
she resumed active duties, something he had decided to suggest 
himself, surprised him so that he was actually rendered speechless. 

Scully was not however, and quietly asked Skinner, "You suggested 
this?  And they agreed?"  At Skinner's affirmation, she thanked him, 
telling him she knew it must have been difficult.

Mulder finally stopped pacing and sat back down beside Scully.  
He observed Skinner's somewhat undignified position, slumped back 
into the chair, and that their superior seemed very down.  He was 
tempted to ask if anything was wrong, but Skinner had never really 
shared many personal details about his life, and he felt awkward 
intruding in it.  

Pushing his thought aside, he decided to kill two birds with one 
stone, and inform both Scully and Skinner that he had asked the 
Gunmen to aid in the surveillance, as well as search for any sign 
of Andercott.  He couldn't keep the tightness out of his voice 
when he said the bastard's name, but relaxed fractionally when 
Scully reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing it.

He looked at her, into her blue eyes, and was calmed.  They spoke 
volumes, sending him love and reassurance.  They also promised 
things - deep, wet kisses and unbelievable passion.  The hairs on 
his entire body stood up, and he nearly shivered.  He had never 
loved anyone, or wanted someone, as deeply and with such painful 
pleasure as he did the woman beside him.  

He wanted her to know him, inside and out, as no other ever had.  
He wanted to spend hours and hours learning every part of her body, 
mapping every inch of her skin.  He wanted to take her fast and 
furious, hearing her scream his name in ecstasy.  He wanted...

Skinner rising suddenly broke the spell he had fallen under, making 
the obligatory speech about contacting him if they had any news, 
and that he would do the same.   

He and Scully rose from the couch together, hands still clasped.  
Scully let go, reluctantly it seemed, and he swore he felt a spark 
as their fingers released.  He answered Skinner, saying, "Of course, 
Sir," and then moving around the couch, saw the AD out the door, 
adding, "Thank-you, Sir."

Mulder closed and locked the door and looked to see Scully still 
standing by the couch, watching him.  Her eyes were slumberous, 
and as much as he wanted to drag her down the hallway to ravish her 
on her bed, he pushed aside his caveman impulses.  

He walked to her side and stroked her cheek gently, loving the way 
she leaned into the caress, tilting her head so that he cupped her 
cheek.  Unable to resist the lure of that curved beauty, he bent 
and pressed feather-light kisses along her cheekbone to her lips.  

She sighed, her body wilting, and he pulled back with regret.  
Pushing her gently onto the sofa, he bent and lifted her feet up 
onto the couch, so she lay stretched out.  He took the chenille 
throw from the back of the couch and spread it over her.  "Rest 
for me?" he asked, and smiled when she nodded.  "I have a call to 
make, and then I'll join you, okay?"

Her sleepy smile and eyes drifting shut was his answer.  A last 
lingering caress with his eyes, and he moved into the kitchen so 
he wouldn't disturb her.

***

4:30 pm

Scully stretched with a contented groan, her eyes still shut.  
She actually felt rested for the first time in a couple of days, 
and did not want this lazy lethargy of her limbs to end.  Her 
fingers curled around the edge of the blanket that covered her 
for a moment before relaxing again, and a small smile drifted 
over her lips.  Mulder must have covered her up.  She had a 
vague memory of him lifting her feet onto the couch and telling 
her to rest for him.

She remembered something else then.  He had also said he would 
join her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled to sit up.  Sounds from 
the kitchen reached her ears.  Water running, a cupboard banging, 
followed by a muffled curse.  She smiled again.  And now he was 
cooking dinner for her.  

He had acted affronted yesterday morning after he made her 
breakfast and she had been surprised, telling her with a pout 
that he wasn't just a brilliant profiler, that he was an okay 
cook with other hidden talents.  His wagging eyebrows had hinted 
at what he had meant by 'other' talents.   The leer he added had 
started a tingle low in her belly, and made her blush.

Thinking about it now made her blush again.  She shook her head 
slightly and leaned back into the sofa cushion.  Mulder had 
always had that affect on her, unbeknownst to him; she had just 
been able to hide her reactions better.  But since she had 
finally heard those three little words she had longed to hear 
from his lips, she hadn't wanted to hide those reactions.  She 
wanted to revel in them, respond to them, and give them right 
back to him.  

As her eyes wandered she saw that there were no lights on in 
the apartment, and the shades were partially drawn on the windows, 
letting in only some sun.  She recognized the time of day as 
being late afternoon, and was surprised that she had managed to 
sleep that long without having any dreams.

Her dreams.  

A shiver ran through her body at the thought of them, and 
she pulled the throw blanket up from her waist where it had 
puddled to cover her shoulders, clutching it to her neck.  
Whatever happy or romantic feelings she had been having rapidly 
disappeared.

At first the dreams had been dark, jumbled.  She had felt fear, 
and pain, but had not known why.  Woken up crying out, terrified 
to find she was not alone, that someone was in the room with her.  
Mulder's low voice, speaking soothing words, had finally reached 
her in that place in her mind where she hid, and she had flung 
herself into his arms.  Drawing the comfort and protection she 
knew she would find from him.

And comfort her he had.  Tucking her back into the covers like 
a child, holding her back against his chest, his strong thighs 
beneath her own legs, stroking his big hand through her hair 
until she had fallen asleep again.  

Only to wake from another nightmare God knows how long after 
the first one.

As they progressed, the dreams became more detailed.  Elliot 
Andercott was in each and every one of them, but he was not 
always alone.  Sometimes he was joined by Donnie Pfaster, in 
others by Duane Barry and even the Alien Bounty Hunter.  She 
was being taken, she was being hurt, in each one, something 
terrible happened to her.  Strangely, though, or maybe not 
so strangely, the scariest one had been when Mulder had been 
the one harmed.  She had seen him killed by Elliot.

Each had been terrifying in its own way, and she had seemed to 
slip from one to the other with only brief periods of respite, 
sheltered in Mulder's strong arms.

Saturday night had passed that way, and she had been bleary-eyed 
and cranky all of Sunday.  Mulder had been incredibly patient 
and unassuming, asking her quietly if she were hungry or needed 
anything.  Being unobtrusive and careful.  Sometimes his demeanor 
had actually made her angry, and other times she had wanted to 
cry.

He had suggested staying up late Sunday night, to see if her 
tiredness would help keep the nightmares away.  She had agreed, 
willing to try anything, and they had lain together on the couch, 
Mulder sprawled on his back with his bare feet propped on one 
arm, and her lying atop of him, her feet rubbing his calves.  
They had watched Lethal Weapon 1 and 2, Mulder having discovered 
her weakness for Mel Gibson, and he had teased her through both.  
When she could no longer stop the yawns, and her eyes felt like 
they were full of sand, they had retired for the night.

Yet the dreams had still come.  

As distressed as she had been by them, she had still been able 
to see that same distress on Mulder's face.  Heard it in his 
voice when he had asked her if she wanted to talk about them.  

She had also seen the hurt that he tried to hide when she had 
told him no.  She hadn't done it to hurt him, would never 
deliberately hurt him, but had not felt ready to talk about them, 
as if doing so would give them more weight, more power.  Had 
seen the hurt again in the morning when she found it hard to meet 
his eyes, ashamed of her weakness, even as she knew Mulder would 
understand it, would never think less of her for it.

After the shower he had suggested she take, she had shrugged 
into her robe, intending to go to her room to get dressed.  
Something had called her to the kitchen, to Mulder, feeling the 
need to explain or apologize for not being able to tell him yet, 
and she had rushed in and practically thrown herself at his body, 
grabbing him around the waist, anchoring herself to his body.  
She had whispered her love to him, asking him never to doubt it, 
and when he had spun in her arms to embrace her properly, she 
had felt again such a range of emotions-peace, happiness, 
safety, love.

The kiss she had gone back for had been the most incredible, 
arousing kiss she had ever experienced in her entire life.  It 
had taken all of her will power not to push Mulder back against 
the counter, fling off her robe and have her way with him.  But 
that was not how she had wanted their first time to be.  

She would save that for later.

Scully smiled to herself, feeling the heat rise once more to 
her cheeks.  She was really looking forward to later.  And 
before.  And every other time in between.  And there would be 
plenty of other times.  She had quite a few years of longing 
and pent up lust for Mulder to work out, and she was pretty 
sure he had some for her as well.

"Hey, sleepyhead," came Mulder's voice, and she started in 
surprise, seeing him standing beside the couch. She hadn't 
even heard him approach.  "How you feeling?" he asked.

Scully was glad the darkened apartment hid her blush.  She sat 
up, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders again, and 
swung her feet down around to the floor.  "I feel really 
good," she answered.  She stood, her knees creaking in protest, 
and realized she had spoken a little too soon.  Her body 
voiced a few other complaints, her ribs gave a twinge, and 
her back ached.  "Well, I'm rested, at least," she amended 
with a small groan.  She looked at Mulder with a lopsided 
smile.  "I'm getting old, Mulder," she said ruefully. 

He snickered and held out a hand to her.  "Well come on, old 
lady, I'll give you a hand," he said.  He tugged her gently 
down the hall to her bathroom, where he pushed her inside.  
"I'll get you a painkiller while you get cleaned up.  Dinner's 
almost ready, you can watch me drain pasta."

"My wildest desire," she teased.  She met his gaze in the sink 
above the mirror, and he grinned at her.  God, she loved a 
playful Mulder.

"Better believe it, baby," he returned, swatting her gently on 
the behind.  He left the bathroom, and his next sentence drifted 
back to her from her bedroom. "If you're real good, I'll do it 
without my tee shirt."

Despite knowing she was dueling with the innuendo and dirty talk 
King, she still couldn't resist adding, "Not in the nude?" in a 
disappointed tone.

"I was saving that for a more formal dinner," he said, standing 
in the bathroom doorway.  He held out a little white pill, and 
when she opened her palm, he dropped it in the center, letting 
his fingers brush hers as he pulled them away.  

Just that light contact sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.  
She wondered how the long the two of them could hold out.  Okay, 
to be truthful, she was wondering how long she could hold out.  
She knew Mulder would wait until she was ready, and would content 
himself with gentle touches and teasing.   She was also wondering 
if she was being stupid with this insistence to herself to wait 
until things were perfect.  They already were perfect.  Except 
for the fact that she had not yet made love with her man.  What 
were a few bruises and some disturbing dreams?

"Scully?"

She looked up to see Mulder's reflection watching her worriedly.

"Scully, it's okay.  We've waited this long, and I want it to be 
perfect too.  I will wait forever for you to be ready."  His voice 
was husky, and honesty burned brightly in his beautiful hazel eyes.

My God, he had read her mind.  Not that he hadn't seemed to on 
many an occasion, as she had seemed to read his once in a while.  
But to know exactly what she was thinking, and to reassure her so. 
Damn her suddenly overly emotional heart.  Tears had filled her 
eyes, and she blinked them back before turning to face him.

She took a step forward, and he leaned into her at just the right 
moment.  Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, with no other 
parts of their bodies touching.

Mulder broke it, smiling gently, and said, "Come on, G-woman, let's 
go eat dinner."

As he had intended, her mood lightened, and she grinned back at 
him.  "Show me what you've got, G-man."

"Ooohhh, Scully, just you wait," he said, and taking her hand, led 
her from the bathroom.

I don't think I can, she thought to herself.

***

9:00 pm

Who would have known that watching a shirtless man pour limp 
noodles into a colander could be so...so damn sexy?  

Even hours later, lying in her bubble bath, Scully could still not 
forget the image of Mulder's arms cording as he dumped the boiling 
water and pasta out into the sink, the play of muscles in his back 
as he moved from the stove with the heavy pot.  She smiled to 
herself as she remembered that she had felt it necessary to caution 
him about the possibility of being burnt or injured, despite her 
desire to see his bare chest, but Mulder had waved her concerns 
off with a smile. 

From her vantage point a few feet away, leaning on the counter, 
she had been able to see how the steam had caused dampness to 
form on Mulder's chest, how the hairs there had darkened with 
moisture.  

She had wanted to lick at the sweat on his body, and until Mulder 
had looked at her, his eyes dropping to her mouth, she had not 
realized that the tip of her tongue had been out, licking her 
upper lip in parody of the act.

He had sucked in his breath, his eyes dilating, and Scully had 
felt her cheeks go incredibly hot.  They had stood there for 
long moments, Mulder's hands tight on the handles of the pot, 
staring at each other, her own hands gripping the counter top, 
before Mulder had heaved out a huge breath and with a slight 
waver in his voice, told her to pour the wine.  

Her own breath had whooshed out, leaving her light-headed, and 
she had turned to do so, both grateful and a little saddened 
that he had not taken the next step.

Scully shifted in the tub, lifting one smooth leg up into the 
air for a moment, enjoying the feel of the bubbles as they slid 
along her skin.  The bathroom was warm, partially from the hot 
water Mulder had filled the tub with, and from the candles 
flickering all over the room. 

As she stared at the way the light bounced off the walls, she 
thought about the fact that this was the first time since she 
had killed Donnie Pfaster that she had been able to take a bubble 
bath with lit candles in the room.  She was rather proud of 
herself.

When Mulder had suggested she go relax in the tub after their 
tea, the aches of her body had made her agree without hesitation, 
despite feeling guilty and a little rude leaving him alone while 
she lounged in a tub.  Again he had seemed to read her mind, 
telling her he would be fine, that he wanted to go online and 
check a few things.

While the tub had been filling, she had changed out of her clothes 
and into her robe.  Staring at herself in her dresser mirror, she 
had removed the bandage from around her neck.  The wound was almost 
totally healed, the scabs gone and the flesh the healthy pink of 
new skin.  

The only thing that was missing was her necklace, which had never 
been found.  The nurse had double-checked with the emergency room 
staff, but she had had no personal effects on her person when she 
was admitted.  She thought sadly that it could have fallen off at 
any time since Elliot Andercott had grabbed her, and the chances of 
finding it were unlikely.  With a sigh she forced herself to relax 
shoulders that had gone tense.

Upon entering the bathroom, she had found Mulder busy lighting the 
candles he had obviously discovered in one of her cupboards.  She 
had thrown a huge number out after Pfaster, but had still had some 
lying around.  The urge to yell at him to stop had been strong, her 
mouth already opening, when he had turned to her with a look in his 
eyes that begged for approval.  He had looked so pleased to have 
done this for her, that she didn't have the heart to tell him the 
candles were too much.  So she had smiled and thanked him softly.  

He had brushed a kiss on her lips and left her to her bubbles.

The surge of pride returned.  After a brief flash of how her 
bathroom had looked that night, with the stubs of candles 
everywhere, and the tub still filled, she had been able to relax 
into the steaming water, thinking only of Mulder.

Scully let her hand float lazily beneath the water, just brushing 
the skin of her stomach.  She closed her eyes, and imagined it was 
Mulder's hand instead.  He was in the tub with her, her back to his 
chest, her head resting in the crook of his neck. His calloused 
fingers on her body teasingly light, moving upwards, skimming over 
one nipple, which hardened instantly with the fleeting touch.  His 
head was bent, his lips warm as they grazed over her temple and 
along her cheek.  His hand moved up along her neck to cup her chin, 
turning her head and angling it upwards for his kiss...

"Scully?  You okay in there?"

Mulder's voice.  Low and questioning.

Scully's eyes shot open as she sat upright quickly, breath panting 
in and out from both the shock of the intrusion into her little 
fantasy, and the fantasy itself.  Her motion caused some of the 
water to splash out of the tub onto the floor, and she gasped in 
dismay.

"Scully?"  This time filled with concern.  

In slow motion, Scully's head moved to stare at the door, still 
sitting up in the tub, watching the doorknob turning as Mulder 
opened the door.  

His head popped around it, eyes worried.  As he took in the sight 
of her bare breasts, only partially covered in dissipating bubbles 
and still heaving slightly, they widened comically, and then he 
quickly averted them, choking out, "Sorry."

Heart pounding furiously, Scully fought the instinct to bring her 
hands up to cover herself, and said softly, "It's okay, Mulder."  
She lowered herself slowly back into the water, now feeling a chill 
in the air from the opened door.  "I'm just about done."

His head disappeared, and she could hear him shuffling out in the 
hallway.   "Okay," he replied.  "I'm just going to fix some more 
tea, and then we can watch a movie.  Does that sound all right?"

She had decided right then and there that she needed to tell him 
about her dreams, and her feelings, so that they could move on to 
the next step.  

The one they both so desperately wanted.  

She did not explain this however; she would do that face to face.  
So she merely replied, "Sounds all right to me."

She listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway, and then 
quickly washed up, before pulling the plug out of the drain.  She 
stepped carefully out of the tub, mindful of the puddle of water, 
and wrapped the large fluffy towel Mulder had left for her around 
her body.  She dried off, slathered herself with her body lotion 
and shrugged into her robe.  After swiping up the water with her 
towel and discarding it in the hamper, she was in her bedroom, 
slipping into panties and a sweatshirt and tights.  She left her 
feet bare, having noticed Mulder always seemed entranced when he 
saw her bare toes.

A quick peek in the kitchen showed her Mulder getting the tea 
tray ready.  He looked over his shoulder, knowing she was there, 
and smiled, saying, "Go sit on the couch, it's almost ready."  

She nodded and moved into the living room, sitting herself down 
on one end of the couch to wait for him.

Mulder had two lamps lit, very low, and the window shades drawn, 
making the room cozy and warm.  It was perfect for her to tell 
him everything.

***

9:00 pm

Mulder relaxed on Scully's sofa while she took her bubble bath, 
his feet propped on her coffee table.  He smirked as he wiggled 
his toes, what she couldn't see wouldn't hurt him.  

Of course, as soon as she was out of that bathroom, his feet were 
on the floor.

His mind wandered back to their dinner.  He had surprised himself 
by actually removing his tee shirt as he had joked, and drained the 
pasta bare-chested.  The slight risk of injury had been worth the 
look he had seen in Scully's eyes.  

Lust.  Pure, unadulterated lust.  

Lust he definitely reciprocated.  It had been with supreme effort 
of will that he had not reacted to her look, and the sight of her 
pink tongue licking her full upper lip, and continued on with the 
pasta, asking her to pour the wine.  The food had been good, and 
after an initial awkwardness, their conversation had been light 
and easy, full of banter.  He had also made Scully laugh, twice.  
He loved to hear her laugh; full-bodied and warm, sending little 
darts of pleasure through his entire body.  

Despite the relaxed atmosphere, they had both been careful not to 
stray into dangerous territory, easing back into safer topics if 
the subject got more intense, or even remotely sexual in nature.

Through their years together, they had always played the game.  
He teased and made innuendos.  She ignored him and rolled her eyes, 
and on very rare occasions, even gave some back.  Yet there had 
always been an awareness between them, of each other.  Mostly 
masked, but sometimes seen or heard.  A sudden intake of breath, 
a flare of desire in one's eyes. 

There had been plenty of that during dinner, Mulder mused to 
himself.  He had watched her lips as she delicately sucked her 
pasta into her mouth, imagining her doing other things with her 
mouth, and had caught her staring at his mouth a few times as well.  
At one of those times, when she had realized he was watching her 
watching him, her cheeks had turned a charming shade of pink 
before she had huskily said that he had sauce on his face.  

He found himself wondering if Scully had ever fantasized about him.  
She loved him, he knew that, and she obviously desired him, but 
did she think about him the way he thought about her, or as much 
as he thought about her?  

He had always considered her to be very sensual, even though she 
hid it beneath business suits and a stern demeanor.  As well, he 
had caught glimpses of what she wore beneath those suits.  
Accidentally of course, he would swear it in a court of law.  

Could he help it if sometimes when she bent over, her blouses gaped 
and treated him to a tantalizing view of cleavage displayed in 
wonderful lingerie?  

Or that if he had once or twice, walked through their connecting 
hotel doors while she had been half-dressed?  He was a man; he could 
not help but look.  Or gawk, as the case may be.

And gawk he had.  And then filed the mental picture away for later 
retrieval late at night, alone in his dark, lonely apartment.

His mind wandered, sifting through some of those pictures, and with 
a shake of his head, Mulder tried to get back to his original 
topic.  It was a given that he fantasized about Scully.  

What red-blooded man wouldn't?  

From the top of her head to the tips of her toes...oh, he loved to 
look at her bare toes.  He especially loved when the nails were 
painted, in bright, sexy colors.  She was small, but curved in all 
the right places, with toned muscles and a fit body.  And to top it 
all off, she was so incredibly intelligent.  Some of her diatribes 
on their cases had turned him on so much; he had been forced to 
leave the room before embarrassing himself.  On occasion, even an 
accidental brushing of her breast or thigh, and even once her ass, 
had been enough to set things stirring.

Face it Mulder, you're a horn dog, he told himself.  He was also 
missing Scully, even though she was only a room away.  

Restlessly, he shifted around on the sofa, before finally rising to 
his feet and stretching.  She had been in the tub a long time.  He 
would just check on her, make sure she was okay.

He walked on his socked feet down the hall and stopped at the 
bathroom door.  Leaning in, he quietly said, "Scully?  You okay in 
there?"

There was a splashing sound, followed by a gasp, and worried, Mulder 
called out a little louder, "Scully?"  His hand rose of its own 
accord and grasped the doorknob.  Before he knew it, he had opened 
the door and was peeking around it.

He first saw her staring at him, her blue eyes wide, her lips 
slightly parted.  Peripherally he was aware that she was sitting up, 
and not completely covered by the bubbles.  

His eyes dropped, taking in the curve of her shoulder, her skin 
glowing in the candle light, before moving down further, to see her 
breasts, rising and falling rapidly.  

The appearance of one pink nipple, peaking out through a curtain of 
slowly disappearing bubbles, made his mouth go dry.

With a jolt, he pulled his eyes away from the entrancing beauty 
before him, looking at the wall across from the tub instead, and 
managed to get out, despite severely constricted lungs, "Sorry."

Scully did not berate him, or yell at him to get out.  Instead, 
she softly said, "It's okay, Mulder."  

He heard the water slosh slightly, and assumed she had lowered 
herself back into the tub.  She then continued, "I'm just about 
done."

In the hallway now, Mulder took a deep breath, willing the desire 
coursing through his veins to ease.  He was surprised his voice 
sounded so calm when he told her he would make some more tea and 
they could watch a movie.

Her soft agreement wafted out to him through the partially closed 
door, and he made his way to the kitchen.  It was familiar to him 
now, almost more so than his own barren apartment, and a comfort.  
He retrieved the necessary items easily, and made the tea.

Again it was Scully's scent that alerted him to her presence, and 
he looked up to see her standing in the doorway watching him.  He 
smiled at her and told her to go sit on the couch, that the tea was 
almost ready.  He watched her leave before resuming his task.

Moments later he was setting the tray on the coffee table, and 
moving around it to join her on the couch.  He felt a sense of 
deja vu, and remembered that the last time they had sat on the couch 
to have tea, they had ended up making out on her bed like a couple 
of teenagers.  The visual his eidetic memory pulled up, of Scully's 
flushed face and swollen lips, caused a tingle in his groin.

Scully leaned forward to reach for the teapot, and her thigh brushed 
against his, intensifying the tingle.  His next breath was slow and 
shaky, and Scully looked at him in concern, her hand holding the pot 
poised in mid-air, about to pour the tea into the second cup.   
"Mulder?" she asked.  "Is something wrong?"

Mulder huffed out a laugh.  Nothing that burying myself deep inside 
you wouldn't cure, he thought.  He couldn't say that to her yet, not 
wanting to make her uncomfortable, or feel like he was pressuring 
her. "No, everything's okay," he answered finally.

She had tilted her head to study him, her eyes a very dark blue, and 
after a long second, resumed her task.  She poured the tea into the 
cup and then fixed both, as they each liked it.  She handed his cup 
to him, and then sat back into the cushions, cradling her cup in her 
hands.

He watched her curiously.  She seemed nervous, on edge.  Was she 
disturbed at the fact that he had blundered in on her in the tub?  
"Scully, now it's my turn to ask you if something is wrong."

She kept her eyes on him as she took a sip of her tea, shook her 
head, and then leaned forward again to put her cup down on the 
tray.  "Mulder..." she started to say, and then paused, her brow 
creased.  With her next words, he got the sense she had changed 
what she had intended to say.  "Mulder, I love you."

As always, the words sent a warm feeling through his entire body.  
However, as much as he loved hearing them, this time he thought 
there was an unspoken 'but' on the end.  "And I love you," he 
responded.  

Each time he said it, the words came easier and the emotions it 
arose, felt more right.

She smiled, and he saw some of the tenseness leave her shoulders.  
"Mulder, I want to tell you about my dreams," she said then, and 
her voice was low, and a little husky.  With nerves, he suspected.

"Only if you're ready, Scully," he said softly, reaching one hand 
out to lie gently on her knee.  "Don't push yourself to do this if 
you don't think you're ready.  Not on my account."

It was her turn to laugh, a small, somewhat self-effacing sound, 
and then she shook her head again.  "This is for both of us, 
Mulder," she said, her tone wry.  

He watched as she took a slow, deep breath, saw her shoulders rise 
and fall with the deliberate motion, obviously meant to calm or 
ready herself.  "If you're sure," he returned.

She shot him a look filled with such longing and lust-tinged love 
that he almost forgot his resolve and dragged her into his arms.  
He was strong though, and held back, forcing himself to relax back 
into the cushions, give her some space.

She took another deep breath and then began.  "Elliot Andercott is 
in them, of course, but there are others too.  Duane Barry, Donnie 
Pfaster, so many from over the years.  At first I can't make sense 
of them, it's dark, and everything is fuzzy.  But I'm scared, so 
very scared, and I know I can't get away.  Then the pictures become 
clearer, and I am there, but at the same time I'm watching it from 
outside, if that makes any sense.  I try and warn myself, make 
myself run, but the other me can't hear.  I see them come for me, 
and sometimes I am so close to hiding or getting away, but they 
always find me.  They touch me, hurt me."  She paused, swallowing 
noisily, and looked down at her hand, which had reached out to grab 
onto his, lying on her knee.

"Sometimes I dream of being in the fire.  Elliot ties me to the cot, 
and I watch as he pours gasoline.  He leaves, and I lie there 
helpless, and then the smoke begins to fill the room," she 
continued, her voice husky.  She cleared it and then looked at him.  
"I have to tell you this, too.  When I was really there, not in my 
dreams, but really trapped in that hospital room, all I could think 
of was you.  I pictured you so clearly in my head, and thought about 
you.  And about all the things I have never told you.  I regretted 
it so much that I had never told you how I felt, that I loved you, 
and had for God knows how long.  I was so sorry that I had never 
taken the chance to say those words to you, to see if you might feel 
the same way."  

She stopped, smiling weakly at him, and his heart ached, thinking 
of her back in that room.  Thinking what if he hadn't found her in 
time?  

Scully started speaking again, and he blinked back the moisture in 
his eyes, brushing away the thought, for he had found her in time, 
she was here, safe, with him. 

"I think I became delirious.  I remember lying there on the floor, 
thinking of everyone I loved.  You, my mom, even Bill," this was 
said with a tiny smile, an attempt to lighten things, Mulder knew. 
"I saw Tara, and Matthew.  Even Skinner and the Gunmen."  

Mulder's eyes widened at that, and she smiled again.  "Even them, 
Mulder.  Don't tell Frohike, but he's kind of grown on me."

He let himself laugh, and joked, "Like a fungus?"

She laughed too, nodding.  "Like a fungus," she agreed.  Her face 
sobered quickly, and her head tilted to the side again, her eyes not 
quite meeting his, and he knew her next words were hard for her to 
say.  Her voice was quieter, almost a whisper when she finally spoke 
again.  "I saw my father, and Melissa.  And...Emily."  She sniffled, 
tears shining in her eyes, but kept going.  "She was holding Missy's 
hand, and smiling, and then she reached out her hand to me.  I tried 
to reach her, I remember that, and then everything went black."

"Oh, Scully," he said softly, and this time did not hesitate to 
move.  He shifted on the couch, and pulled her into his arms, 
rocking her gently, hearing her sniffles escalate to sobs.  "Oh, 
baby, I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing a kiss into the top of 
her head, even now aware of its sweet smell.  

Her head was buried in his chest, and he felt her pull back slightly 
to let one hand wipe at her cheeks.  Her voice was rough and tear-
filled as she said, "Sometimes I dream that I was able to reach her 
hand, and I know that I have died, that you weren't able to reach me 
in time."

He had no words for that, could only hold her tighter, feeling his 
own eyes fill with tears.  He pictured Emily as he had last seen 
her, lying near death in a hospital bed, and then imagined her happy 
and at peace with Scully's sister.  

Finally her shudders had subsided, as had her tears.  She 
straightened, and he let his arms drop from around her so that she 
could look into his eyes.  Her mouth quivered as she saw that he 
too had been crying, crying silent tears, and she lifted her hand 
to wipe at them with a delicate touch.  "The dreams are mostly all
variations of that, me running and not being able to get away, or 
dying in that fire," she said, and then took a deep breath.  "I'm 
sorry I couldn't tell you sooner.  You must know that I have a 
very difficult time opening up and sharing how I feel.  I also 
hate knowing how they will make you feel."

Mulder cleared his throat and cupping his hand on her cheek, said, 
"Thank-you for telling me, Scully.  I know it was hard for you, 
and it hurt, but I needed to know.  Maybe telling me will help you 
get past them."

"I hope so," she whispered back, turning her head so that her lips 
could press a kiss into his palm.  She lifted her head, meeting his 
gaze dead on, and with a smile said, "Now I can tell you about my 
other dreams."

"Other dreams?" he asked, worried she was going to tell him more 
horrible nightmares, maybe something from her childhood that still 
haunted her.

It wasn't until she said her next words that he spied the glint in 
her eye.  "Uh-huh.  These are the good dreams, Mulder."

Her voice was low and sultry, and went straight to his groin.

"Bring it on, baby," he said.

***

end Part 15 of 29


Revenge Part 16 of 29
by Lovesfox




Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Monday
9:40 pm


Scully was surprised that she was actually able to laugh.  A 
full-blown one too, although it came out more as a muffled 
snorting sound because of the hand she held to her mouth.  

Dropping the hand and slapping at his leg lightly, she said, 
half-indignantly, "Mulder!"  Trust him to say...she had been 
about to use the words 'something sexually suggestive', but 
amended them to 'just the right thing'.  

The words suited her suddenly very playful mood.  A mood that 
also caused some surprise.  She had to admit that she actually 
did feel better for having told Mulder about the dreams, like 
the proverbial weight had been lifted from her chest.  She didn't 
expect them to be over just because she had told him, not by a 
long shot, but the tension that had built up within her, both 
from having them, and not talking to Mulder about them, had gone. 

Mulder had not responded to her saying his name, or the little 
blow to his leg.  He was merely watching her, a little smile on 
his face.  She knew it was in no way a sign that he had taken her 
tale lightly, or that he discounted her feelings about her dreams.  
He had processed them, and despite the questions she knew he was 
burning to ask, he was following her lead.  

She also knew he was very intrigued by the thought of her other 
dreams.

It felt good to be in a playful mood, one she had not been in, 
or allowed herself to be in, for a long time.  With a slightly 
shaky breath, feeling a little unsure of herself, and very out of 
practice, she followed up the slap to his leg with a soothing 
caress, running from his knee to almost the top of his thigh, 
feeling the muscles beneath her hand flex and tighten.  

"You sure you can handle it?" she asked, and her voice sounded 
breathy even to her ears.  Once the words were out, she realized 
the unintentional innuendo.

Mulder, of course, bless his perpetually hormonal little heart, 
picked up on it too.  One eyebrow rose slowly, and the smile on his 
lips became a grin.  

"I'd much rather you handle...it," he said silkily.  He then moved 
his leg just the right way to cause her hand to brush against the 
suddenly straining hardness between his thighs.

They both hissed in a breath, staring into each other's eyes.  The 
grin had slipped from his face, and been replaced by such an intense 
look that Scully felt her mouth go dry.  She unconsciously licked 
her lips, and saw Mulder's eyes drop down to follow the motion of 
her tongue.  

He groaned deep in his throat, and she felt the vibration in his 
chest, where her other hand now rested, not that she remembered 
placing it there.  Even through his tee shirt, she could feel the 
heat of his skin, sending answering waves of heat through her entire 
body.  She could also feel heat where her other hand lay, now 
directly over the fly of his jeans.

His hips moved, bucking himself harder into her hand, and she 
squeezed him through the denim in reaction.  

"Scullee..." he groaned her name, and then his hand was in her hair, 
at the nape of her neck, bringing her face closer to his.

Their lips met, wet and open, and Scully allowed herself to be 
pulled from her seat on the couch into his lap, instinctively and 
intimately straddling his body.  The action placed her pelvis 
directly over his erection, and Mulder bucked upwards again, 
intensifying the contact.  

This time it was she who moaned, low and deep in the back of her 
throat, feeling herself thrust downward in reaction.  Desire 
pooled thick and heavy in her belly.

Mulder's tongue thrust deeply into her mouth at the sound, and 
then his other hand was at the small of her back, grinding her 
lower body against his.  

Scully sucked at his tongue, and her hands slid up his body to fix 
firmly in the softness of his hair.  She could not stop moving, 
thrusting her breasts into his chest, feeling her nipples harden 
to almost painful points.  She wanted to feel his hands tugging 
and...oh, God, his mouth, his agile tongue, on her nipples, licking 
and sucking.

As if she had somehow spoken the words out loud, Mulder's hand left 
her back to insinuate itself between their two bodies, crawling 
teasingly along her ribs to cup one breast.  He squeezed it, and 
her back arched, thrusting it more fully into his hand.  His nimble 
fingers plucked at the nipple through the thick cotton of her 
sweatshirt, and it wasn't enough.  

She wanted to feel his hand on her bare skin.  She pulled free of 
his mouth, only able to gasp out, "Skin," through panting breaths.

He obliged, hand darting to the hem of her sweatshirt and shoving 
upwards, gaining access to her now bared breasts.  Her head had 
lolled back in wanton surrender, and they both moaned at the contact 
when his long fingers just barely brushed her nipple.  His breaths 
were loud in the silence of the room.

She wanted to touch him too, to feel the crisp hairs of his chest, 
his male nipples pebbling beneath her fingers, and lifting her head 
once more, tried to pull his tee shirt up.  It was awkward in their 
position, and she was dismayed at being unable to reach her target.

Mulder's hand left her breast, wringing a moan of disappointment 
from her.  His voice was smoky as he said, "Your bed.  I want us in 
your bed," in her ear.

Liquid heat pooled between her legs at his words, and then he had 
somehow lifted them both off the couch, with her body pressed 
against his, and his hands on her rear, supporting her weight.  She 
wound her arms around his neck, and secured her legs around his 
hips, hooking her ankles together just over his butt.  The position 
kept her pelvis in close contact with the bulge between his legs, 
and as he carried her, she jounced up and down, rubbing against his 
hardness.  

He groaned and came to a stop halfway down the hallway, turning so 
that her back rested against the wall, fusing his lips over hers, 
his hips thrusting and grinding.  Although he had not been rough, 
he had not been overly gentle, and her head had thumped a little 
painfully into the smooth, hard surface.  

Scully did not care, she was too caught up in the sensations and 
feelings of the rest of her body.  She raised her hands to fist 
them tightly in his hair, and enthusiastically counteracted his hip 
motions with gyrations of her own pelvis.

This wrangled another groan from Mulder, and she smiled against his 
lips and hummed a little, thrilled at the sounds she could evoke in 
him.  His wet lips moved along her cheek to her ear, where he bit 
her lobe before whispering, "Witch."  

Her answering chuckle turned into a moan of her own as his tongue 
did amazing things to her ear and neck.  She sighed his name, a 
long, drawn-out breathy sound and tried to bring his lips back to 
hers.  

He seemed quite happy where he was, now licking and sucking along 
her collarbone, pushing the neck of her sweatshirt aside with his 
nose.  

Oh, God...the things he could do with that tongue.  She wanted 
more.  

Scully unhooked her ankles and let her legs drop to the ground 
before tugging, none too gently, at his hair.  When his eyes, nearly 
black with desire, met hers, she released his hair and grabbed one 
of his hands, walking backwards down the hall towards her bedroom.  
Tugging at him, she said, "Come to bed, Mulder."  

He followed with alacrity, and sped up so that his hands could grasp 
her hips, her body still facing his, and guide her quickly through 
the door and over to the bed.  He stopped just as she felt the 
mattress bumping the backs of her knees, and lifting her easily, 
placed her in the center of the bed.  He made no further move, 
merely stood there and ran his eyes over her.

Restlessly Scully lifted herself up to her elbows, saying 
questioningly, "Mulder?"

"You are so beautiful," he answered.  His voice was gravelly, and 
made her shiver.  "I have always loved looking at you, but before, I 
had to sneak those looks, when you were pre-occupied, or sleeping.  
Hoping you wouldn't catch me."  He inhaled deeply, his nostrils 
flaring slightly, and continued, "I don't have to anymore, do I?"

She shook her head slowly, stunned at his words.  Of course she had 
caught him looking at her before, and despite the thrill that had 
gone through her each time, she had always dismissed it as nothing.  
She kept her eyes on his as she confessed, "I looked at you too.  
So many times.  Wondering what if would be like to run my hands over 
your chest, and up and down your back."  With a blush, she lowered 
her gaze a little and whispered, "And other places."

"Scully," he said, and when she had lifted her head again to meet 
his eyes, his hands went to the hem of his tee shirt.  He gripped 
it firmly, and with one swift motion, lifted it over his head and 
off his body, dropping it on the ground.  He then placed one knee 
on the bed, dipping the mattress, and lowered himself gently beside 
her.

She let herself slide back down onto the bed, and raised one hand to 
lie on his firm, muscled chest.  The springy hairs there tickled her 
hand and she smiled, remembering her early thought about touching 
his chest.  She scratched lightly, getting the shiver she knew she 
would from him, and then flicked a nail over one nipple.  That 
action elicited a moan, which pleased her, and using the palm of her 
hand, she pushed him flat on his back.

She had always found being on top to be quite arousing so, sliding 
one leg across both of his, her knee brushing his hardness in the 
process, she straddled him once again.  Her bottom rested just below 
the waistband of his jeans, with her knees touching his ribs.  

His hands automatically rose to settle on her hips, but she grabbed 
them just before they could make contact, and leaning over him, laid 
them back against the mattress above his head.  This action had 
brought their faces close together, so she paused to kiss him 
lingeringly on the lips before sliding them down his jaw and neck to 
where his Adam's apple bobbed.  She lathed it with her tongue before 
nibbling at it with her teeth.  She felt the motions of his throat 
as he swallowed noisily, and with a smile, continued down to his 
chest.

She kissed her way slowly towards the bullet scar she had given him 
on his shoulder and traced it with the tip of her tongue before 
pressing one last kiss on it and moving down to the hard little 
nipple that begged for attention.  Again with only the tip of her 
tongue, she circled it several times, enjoying the way Mulder's 
breath huffed out in reaction, before drawing it into her mouth.  
She sucked at it for a moment and then bit gently.  Mulder jumped 
a little, so she soothed it with her tongue.  

Leaving that nipple she kissed her way across his chest to the other 
nipple, treating it as she had the first one.  Mulder moved again, 
squirming beneath her, his hips bucking upwards to thrust his 
hardness against her rear.  She sat up and wiggled her behind a 
little.  She smiled down at him, seeing the desire in his eyes, and 
crossing her arms in front of her, grasped the hem of her sweatshirt 
with both hands.  She shimmied her hips as she lifted the material 
up inch by inch, slowly revealing her bare flesh.  Her own nipples 
were hard points, and the cloth brushing over them teased her 
unbearably.  With one last yank, the sweatshirt was off, and after 
throwing it behind her; she tossed her head from side to side to 
adjust her hair, which had fallen onto her face.

Scully felt the muscles of Mulder's body tense beneath her, and knew 
he was going to move.  "Uh-uh," she said softly, and although his 
mouth opened, to protest perhaps, he subsided.  He was staring 
wide-eyed at her breasts and breathing heavily, so she lifted her 
hands once more to run them through her hair, knowing the action 
caused her breasts to bob and sway.  She glided them slowly along 
her face and down her neck, feeling the heat of his gaze as his eyes 
followed her every move, and next over her breasts, her fingernails 
scratching lightly, the sound audible, to rest at the tops of her 
own thighs.

Mulder groaned, low and deep.

***

She was killing him.  Slowly but surely.  Every action deliberate 
and devastatingly mind-blowing. Mulder could not fill his lungs with 
enough air, and was forced to breathe in short, shallow pants.

His Scully was a temptress, and he loved every minute of it.  

From the moment she had touched his thigh as they sat on her couch 
and said those innocent words that he had turned around in an effort 
to tease and seduce, to being here now in her bedroom, poised at the 
brink of making love with her.

Now, standing motionless by the side of her bed, feeling every 
individual beat of his heart, every drop of blood rushing through 
his veins, Mulder could not take his eyes off of Scully.  

She shifted and rose to her elbows, saying his name questioningly.  

He hastened to assure her there was nothing wrong, saying slowly, 
"You are so beautiful."  He told her of how he watched her, sneaking 
looks when she wasn't aware, hoping she wouldn't catch him, and as 
realization came to him, he inhaled deeply, her fragrance scenting 
the air, and said, "I don't have to anymore, do I?" 

The negative shake of her head was both a relief and an 
encouragement to move forward, and hearing her say that she had 
watched him too did incredible things to his insides.  To get her 
attention, for she had being looking shyly downward at her 
admission, a blush on her cheeks, he said only, "Scully."

Mulder saw the heat in her eyes when his hands went to the hem of 
his tee shirt and then as he stripped it off, the way they roved 
over his bare chest, dipping briefly to glance at the fly of his 
jeans, behind which his erection bulged.  Just a mere glance from 
her was enough to have him throbbing almost painfully.

He set one knee down on the bed and maneuvered himself so that he 
lay on his side next to her.  She had lowered herself to lie back 
against the mattress again, and placed one palm on his chest.  The 
contact was electric, and he felt it all the way down to his toes.  
He could see the smile on her face, and was content to let her set 
the pace.  For now.

He shivered when her nails scratched lightly through his chest 
hairs, and moaned when she ran one nail over a nipple.  She 
obviously liked his response for she smiled again, and then using 
the hand still on his chest, pushed him flat on his back.  A moment 
later her knee brushed his straining erection as she slid her leg 
over him to straddle his body.

He lifted his hands to grab her hips, to position her more firmly 
over him, but she took them in her hands and bent over him, bringing 
his hands to rest on the bed above his head.  Her movements had 
placed her almost nose to nose with him, and just as he was going to 
lift his head to capture her lips, she captured his instead, in a 
long hungry kiss.  

She then moved her lips down to the base of his neck, where she 
first licked his Adam's apple and then bit it gently.  His throat 
was thick, and the sound he made as he swallowed heavily was loud.

Scully's lips were on his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their 
wake.  The scar where she had shot him was lovingly licked and 
kissed and then he felt the hot tip of her tongue on his nipple.  

Holy shit! 

He choked in a breath, it felt so good, he didn't ever want her to 
stop.  He did however wonder what her tongue would feel like 
swirling over the head of his cock, and fought the instinct to 
release himself from his jeans and guide her to him.  He jumped 
when she bit his nipple, and at his motion, she soothed it with 
her tongue again.  She then kissed her way across his chest and 
subjected his other nipple to the same wonderful torment.

He couldn't help it, he had to move.  He bucked his hips, trying to 
push his hardness into her shapely little ass.  Scully sat up 
straight and moved that ass, smiling down at him.  He watched her 
breathlessly, wondering what she was going to do next, and thought 
his eyes would cross when she slowly and seductively removed her 
sweatshirt, revealing her beautiful breasts, their pink tips hard 
with her arousal. She tossed the garment somewhere; he didn't care 
where, and lifted her hands to run through her hair.

The action emphasized the tautness of her torso, and thrust her 
chest forward.  His chest was heaving with the effort to get air to 
his starving lungs, and he couldn't take his eyes off of her 
breasts.  He wanted to touch her so badly.  His fingers curled, 
as if already cupping them, and his hands and body tensed.  He 
barely heard Scully saying, "Uh-uh," and subsided, his mouth 
opening on a protest and shutting again.

He almost couldn't believe what she did next.  Her hands were in her 
hair again, causing her breasts to sway enticingly above him, and 
then she was stroking herself, sliding her hands down her neck and 
over her chest, along her stomach and coming to rest on her thighs.

Mulder could not contain his moan, a low guttural sound.  He gulped 
in air.

"Scully...I want...I want to touch you."  He had meant it as a plea, 
but his voice was rough, and the words came out more as a demand.

His temptress smiled, and leaning over once more, a nipple grazing 
his cheek, she grasped a wrist delicately in each hand.  

Straightening, she brought his arms forward and laid his hands, 
palm down, on each of her knees.  The pressure from her hands 
resting on top of his was light, but enough to guide his hands into 
skimming upward along her legs.  

Mulder moved his thumbs outward slightly, and as he and Scully's 
hands together reached the tops of her thighs, they just brushed 
the apex between her legs.

He felt the jolt that ran through her, and his penis twitched in 
reaction.  Her breathing was becoming more erratic, he could tell, 
her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her hands tightened 
fractionally on his before relaxing.  She continued leading his 
hands upward, along her ribcage, and this time his thumbs brushed 
the outside of each breast.  

Her hands fell away then, and her head dipped back again, thrusting 
her breasts forward.  He covered them with his hands, squeezing 
and shaping, feeling her nipples hard against his palms.  He moved 
his hands so that he could roll her nipples between his fingers, 
aand she gasped his name, her pelvis grinding into his midsection.

His penis twitched again, and with a swift move, his hands now at 
her hips he flipped her onto her back and covered her with his 
body.  One hand slid back up to tease a nipple again as his lips 
descended on hers, the kiss almost bruising in its intensity.  

Their legs were entwined together, his hardness pushing into her 
thigh.  He began thrusting against her, and she copied him, her 
hands fisting in his hair for a moment before sliding down his 
back.

Mulder felt her fingers dancing along the waistband of his jeans, 
teasing the skin of his lower back, and then they were sliding 
around to work at the fastenings of his button-fly jeans.  

She opened them with dexterity, and then she was pulling the denim 
down over his hips, taking his boxer-briefs along with them.  He 
shifted, lifting some of his weight off of her to help her, and was 
forced to release her lips as she pulled away to slide further down 
the bed to get them off.  A few kicks of his legs and the last of 
his clothing was gone, his erection springing free, hot and 
engorged with blood.

Scully wiggled her way back up, the points of her breasts teasing 
him as they brushed along his body.  He thrust against her leg 
again, wanting to feel her bare skin against his body.  He pressed 
a kiss to her lips and then whispered in her ear, "I think you 
have too many clothes on."

She nodded, and her hands went to the waistband of her tights.  It 
was his turn to say, "Uh-uh," and lift her hands up and over her 
head.  He kissed her once more and then began a meandering path 
along her jaw line to her neck.  He licked at the pulse fluttering 
wildly at her throat and then nibbled and kissed his way down to 
her collarbone.

There, he first licked and kissed her, before pulling the skin 
into his mouth and sucking.  He pulled slowly at the skin and then 
released it, leaning his head back to admire his handiwork.  He had 
marked her.  

With a smile he kissed the mark and resumed his exploration of 
Scully.  He took his time, feeling the restless movements of her 
legs, hearing her sigh and pant above him, kissing all around each 
breast, nuzzling the underside of each with his nose.

Scully writhed beneath him, tossing her head from side to side, and 
he finally lowered his mouth to one waiting nipple, drawing it into 
his wet mouth.

It was her turn to moan.

***

Sensations.  She was swimming in sensations.  Incredible, mind-
numbing sensations.

Every nerve ending sizzled.  Every millimeter of her skin craved 
the touch of his hands, his lips and tongue.

And where he did touch, he left a trail of fire, blazing hot.

He was at her other nipple now, teasingly licking and blowing on 
the near-painfully hardened nub, but not yet sucking on it as he 
had her other one.  As Scully arched her back in silent supplication 
for him to deepen the contact, her fingers clutched convulsively 
at the comforter in an effort not to wind themselves in his hair 
and force him to suck.  

She felt him chuckle, the vibration sending tingles of pleasure 
shooting through her body, but he still continued his torment, 
keeping his touches light.

Holy Mary, Mother of God.  The man was going to drive her insane.

"Mulderrrr.... please," she whimpered.  She could say no more, she 
would not let herself beg.  She did continue to move beneath him 
though, shifting her body so that her hips cradled his erection, 
trying to entice him into more. She could feel his hot, hard length 
pressing against her center, wet with her arousal.  Her mouth hung 
open slackly, little panting breaths all she was capable of.

"Please, what?" he whispered, his voice smoky.  Sexy.

That voice did amazing things to her insides, turning them to 
liquid.  

It also blew any inhibitions or hesitations she might have had 
completely away. Despite the face she had vowed not to beg, and 
that she knew it was his intention to have her do so, she wanted 
his mouth on her so badly.

"Please..." she gasped out.  "Suck!"

She did not feel humiliated in the least, and was rewarded at last 
by his warm lips drawing her nipple into his mouth and sucking 
furiously.  She moaned again.  His teeth scraped the tender flesh, 
and her back arched in reaction.  He followed up by lathing her 
with his tongue and then sucking it once more.

She realized she was babbling, almost incoherently, his name 
figuring most predominantly amongst the nonsense words.  She could 
no longer control her hands, they were down and in his hair, 
fisting tightly as his mouth worked his magic.

With an audible pop, he released her nipple and began kissing his 
way down her ribcage, his tongue tracing each individual rib.  She 
tried twisting away from the contact, which was a combination of 
tickling and tormenting.  Seconds later his tongue was in her 
navel.  She was ticklish, with very sensitive skin, always had 
been, but she had never before considered her belly button to be 
much of an erogenous zone.

It was now. 

The muscles in her vagina clenched tight and hard, and she moaned 
again at the sensation.  She felt empty, waiting to be filled.  
Filled with the hard heat of Mulder's erection.  She could feel it, 
bumping against her thigh, and she imagined it pulsing and 
throbbing.  Her vagina throbbed again at her thought, and she bent 
her knee so that his length slid enticingly along her leg and 
closer to where she wanted him so very badly.

He growled against her abdomen, and thrust upwards, rotating his 
hips slightly.  His hands were suddenly at the waistband of her 
tights, tugging them downwards.  

She planted her heels flat on the bed and lifted her rear, 
enabling Mulder to pull them past her hips and down her legs.  

He shifted his weight off of her, lying on his side, and used both 
hands to slip them slowly off each leg, one at a time.  

She was suddenly glad she had picked a lacy pair of panties; black 
ones that dipped to a V in the center and were only thin ribbons 
of material over her hips, for Mulder was staring at them quite 
intently.  His head was propped on one elbow by her hip, and he 
brought the other hand up to trace the edge of the panties, almost 
brushing the curls that shielded her core when he followed the V.

He dipped his head, and then his teeth were scraping over her hip, 
nibbling at the lace there. He tugged gently, and pulled it down 
until the strap was at the top of her thigh, and her reddish-brown 
curls were partially revealed.  He pressed open-mouthed kisses 
along the waistband until he had reached the other strap, and did 
the same to it as he had the other.

Scully jumped when his mouth was directly over her center, 
nipping gently to pull the panties into his teeth.  

He shimmied downwards on the bed, pulling the panties off of her 
with his mouth, his chin brushing through her curls and just barely 
touching the little bundle of nerves that was suddenly taut with 
anticipation.

She began squirming, and Mulder used one hand on a hip to hold 
her steady while the other hand grasped the panties and pulled 
them down her legs.  With quick kicks of her legs they were gone.

His hot breath was on the inside of her knee, and then his lips 
and tongue began their magic all over again, this time traveling 
upwards.  He lifted one leg a little so that his lips and teeth 
could tease the tender, sensitive underside of her knee, making 
her shiver and moan.  He next nipped the tender flesh on the 
inside of one thigh and did the same on the other one, before 
moving ever closer to the juncture between them.

Scully reached down and fisted her hands in his hair again.  As 
much as she wanted to feel his mouth...there, she wanted him 
inside of her, deep and hard.  

She tugged gently, whispering, "Mulder, please, I want you."  
She paused and then added, "I want you inside me, now."

With amazing speed he was up her body, his mouth on hers, tongue 
thrust deep inside.  His weight was a pleasurable agony, pinning 
her to the mattress.  She smoothed her hands down his back, and 
onto his firm ass, squeezing and kneading for a moment before 
letting one hand slide around his hip to grasp his erection in 
her hand.  It leapt at her touch, and she moved her fingers up 
and down its length, feeling it pulse in reaction.  

He groaned into her mouth and pulled free, gasping, 
"Scullee..."

She squeezed his flesh once and then guided him to her entrance, 
spreading her legs wide as he settled between them.  One thrust 
and he was buried to the hilt.

They both sighed.

"Scully," he said, his voice gritty, his teeth clenched.  "I love 
you."

Scully brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, her 
heels digging into his ass.  This position pushed him even deeper 
and she nearly cried out with the ecstasy.  Her hands were around 
his back, holding him tightly.  "I love you too, Mulder," she 
whispered into his neck.

Their movements were slow and careful at first, Mulder pulling 
almost all the way out before sliding slowly and deeply back 
inside.  

As the magnitude of this moment hit them however, they both began 
to move more frantically.  Mulder's hips were like pistons, but 
Scully met him thrust for thrust.

Tension coiled low in her belly, and each thrust brought his penis 
into contact with that spot, that sweet ache between her legs.  
Lights danced behind her closed eyelids as she felt the wave build 
and build and build...until it finally crested, throwing her over 
the top.  Her inner muscles gripped his penis like a vise, and she 
screamed his name.

Seconds later Mulder began jerking and pumping, groaning 
continuously, and then with one last long thrust, he came with a 
shout, "SCUH-LEEEE...", emptying himself inside her.  He collapsed 
over her, breathing heavily, his mouth in her neck.

Scully unhooked her ankles and let her legs slide from his hips.  
Mulder shifted so that his weight was no longer crushing her and 
swung onto his back, pulling her on top of him, where she sprawled 
bonelessly.

She pressed a kiss into his shoulder, and felt one of his hands 
stroke up and down her back.  With effort she raised her head to 
look at him.  Their eyes met, and she watched a slow smile curl 
his lips.  "That was..." her voice trailed off.  She couldn't 
think of a word that would do justice.

"Perfect," he finished for her.

Her eyes misted, and her answering smile was a little tremulous, 
but she replied, "Yes, it was."  With that, she lay her head down 
on his chest, just for a moment.  Until her legs stopped their 
trembling and she felt that she could walk on them again.

***

Afterwards, cleaned up and refreshed, they snuggled against the 
pillows on her headboard, sated.  Mulder was again on his back, 
with Scully snuggled up against his side, her head resting on his 
chest, just over his heart.  

She traced tiny circles on his belly while he played with the 
strands of her hair.  They were still nude, the covers pulled to 
Mulder's waist, and up to Scully's chest, their legs entwined 
beneath them.

He had never felt such an overwhelming need to stay in a woman's 
arms as he did right now.  He was perfectly content to lie there 
for hours.  

It felt right.  Perfect.

They dozed off.  

Mulder woke first, thirsty as hell and with a tickle in his nose.  
Scully had moved in her sleep, and her hair lay partially across 
his face, her body sprawled face-up across the bed.  She also 
had the majority of the covers.  Mulder managed to get his arm 
out from underneath her without disturbing her and shifted away 
and up out of the bed.

He smiled tenderly at the picture she presented.  Her glorious hair 
was now spread on her pillow, her face and one small foot peeking 
out from the comforter the only parts of her body visible.  He 
would let her sleep for a while longer, replenish her energy.

She was going to need it.

With a jaunt in his step, Mulder walked naked to the kitchen and 
drank two glasses of water before heading to the bathroom.  He 
completed his business and washed his hands and face, brushing his 
teeth and combing his fingers through his spiky hair, and then 
headed back to the bedroom.  

He paused there, leaning against the doorjamb to stare at the 
woman in the bed.  It was hard to believe that he had been there, 
with her, and would be again.

Scully was stretching beneath the covers, blinking sleepily.  
Hearing or sensing him there, she rose up on her elbows, the 
covers falling slightly and revealing her creamy shoulders.  
"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi, yourself," Mulder returned.  He saw her eyes drop, to where 
he was already hardening again for her, and smiled, quirking his 
eyebrow at her.  He padded over to the bed and slid back under the 
covers to join her.  

She moved easily into his arms, resting her head on his chest 
again.

He kissed the top of her head and drawled, "Soooo...you never 
did tell me about those other dreams."

***

Scully moved one hand beneath the covers, searching for Mulder, 
but she met only empty space, still slightly warm from his body.  
She had obviously fallen asleep, but she had been lying with her 
head resting on his chest.  Where did he go?  

For the briefest of instants she panicked, thinking he had left.  
That he might have thought what had happened between them was 
wrong, or that he had regretted it.  

Just as quickly she pushed the thought aside.  They loved each 
other, and they had shared that love.

Oh, boy had they shared that love.  With a smile of contentment, 
Scully stretched her body fully; her toes curling, and bones 
popping.  There was a slight ache between her thighs, but it was 
a good ache.  An ache of fulfillment and pleasure.  She opened 
her eyes, blinking to clear the sleep from them, and sensed that 
Mulder was there and was watching her.

She rose up a little, propping herself on her elbows and saw him 
leaning against the doorway.  His eyes were intense, heavy-lidded, 
and they sent awareness tingling through her body.  She spoke 
quietly, not wanting to disturb the suddenly charged atmosphere, 
saying, "Hi."

Mulder said, "Hi, yourself," and the way he said it had her breath 
quickening.  Her eyes lowered, taking in his beautiful nude body, 
and saw that he too was reacting to whatever was in the air, his 
penis hardening.  He smiled, raising his eyebrow in that way that 
made her heart flutter, although she had denied that reaction for 
so long, and then he came towards the bed.

He slid in and she moved over quickly into his arms, resting her 
head once more upon his chest.  He smelled wonderful, of male 
sweat and a woodsy pine fragrance, with that quantity that was 
undeniably all Mulder underneath.  

She wanted to take things slow and easy this time, to linger and 
savor his body, and before she could move, felt him kiss the top 
of her head.  She heard his drawled words next, about her other 
dreams, and turning her head slightly, took a nip at his chest, 
just above his nipple.  She used her teeth, and exerted just 
enough pressure to make him yelp in surprise.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, his body jumping.  "Scuh..."

Her name trailed off as her mouth was now busy lathing the spot 
she had sorely abused, and her hand had slid down his belly to 
lightly stroke his still semi-erect penis.  It immediately pulsed 
beneath her hand, and she smiled against his skin.

He groaned her name this time, his hand sweeping from her shoulders 
to grasp her chin, tilting it upwards for him to capture her lips 
in a bruising kiss.  His tongue swept inside her mouth, and the 
hand on his penis tightened in reaction.  He surged upwards a 
little, thrusting into her hand, and she obliged by sliding it 
slowly up and down his now fully erect member.  His other hand 
was now on her hip, and he tightened his hand there for a moment 
and flipped them, so that she was on her back.  He lay partially 
over her; never having broke their kiss.

This action forced her hand away from him, and she ended up 
running both hands up and down his smooth back.  The hand that had 
been on her hip slid up to cup her breast, the thumb stroking over 
her taut nipple.  He broke free of their kiss and with a swift 
movement had latched onto the nipple with his mouth, sucking 
strongly.

She bucked her hips in reaction, the tugging motion of his lips 
having ignited a trail of pleasure that shot straight between her 
legs, and her movement brought his hip into contact right there.  
She moaned and ground herself against him.  

He released her nipple to whisper, "Did you ever dream of this?"

"Yes..." she admitted, still a little embarrassed about revealing 
her secret dreams and fantasies, despite the wonderful event that 
had transpired between them not long ago.  She gulped in air next 
when his mouth moved steadily downwards; brushing wet kisses over  
her belly.  In seconds he was fully between her legs, his chin 
resting on her pubic bone, staring up at her.

"And this?" he asked, before nuzzling between her curls for a 
second.

She was biting her lip, her entire body tight with tension, waiting 
for him to place his hot mouth over her.  When he made no such move 
she lifted her head to see him regarding her steadily, his hazel 
eyes once more black with desire.  "Mulder..." she mewled, wiggling 
her hips.

"Have you dreamed of this, Scully?" he asked again, his voice a 
seductive whisper, his words a hot breath on her most intimate 
place.

Closing her eyes and letting her head drop back to her pillow, 
she hissed, "Yessss..."

"Yes, what, Scully?" he continued.

He seemed so unaffected, but his hands on her hips were gripping 
her tightly, and she could feel the tension in the lines of his 
body, which was pressed against her open legs.

This knowledge emboldened her, and lifting her head once more to 
meet his burning gaze, said in a sultry voice, "Yes, I have dreamed 
of you lying between my legs.  Dreamed of your tongue dancing over 
my aroused flesh.  Dreamed of you wringing such pleasure from my 
body that I can barely say your name."

His eyes darkened more than she thought possible, the flush on 
his cheeks evidence of the impact of her words, and with that, his 
tongue was suddenly delving between her folds, doing just what 
she had said, dancing over her aroused flesh.

She had meant to say more to tease and arouse, but her breath was 
swept away.  Her head fell back to the pillow again, and her eyes 
squeezed shut, her hips lifting and falling in rhythm, pressing 
herself against his mouth.

She was capable of only one thought.  

God bless his sunflower seeds and his oral fixation.

The pleasure she had said he would wring from her body was 
rapidly building to a crescendo, her hip movements more frantic, 
her hands clenched tightly in his hair.  She could hear herself, 
moaning and sighing.

It swirled, tighter and tighter, faster and faster, and then she 
was over the top, body exploding with exquisite pleasure.

She had been wrong though.  She had been able to say his name, 
had screamed it in fact, long and loud, her head thrashing back 
and forth on the pillow, heels digging deep into the mattress.

Mulder held her tightly as she came down, his cheek resting on 
her lower belly, as little aftershocks continued to ripple 
tthrough her body.  He rubbed his face against her and then she 
sensed he was looking at her again.  She managed to pry her eyes 
open and angled her head on the pillow to see him, unable to 
lift it.

He had a pleased, 'cat the got the canary' smile on his face and 
once he saw that she was looking back at him, he said, "You like?"

Smug bastard, she thought lovingly.  If she had any energy, she'd 
do something about it, reciprocate in kind.  That was another one 
of her fantasies; only it was usually in their office, while he 
sat at his desk.  She'd share it with him, one of these days.  

For now, she summoned the strength to roll her eyes at him and 
say, "No, not at all."

Liar, his eyes said, dancing with suppressed laughter.  He 
pressed a kiss on her belly and crawled slowly upwards, his hot 
penis nudging firmly against her hip as he lowered himself onto 
her.

She shifted automatically, cradling him between her legs.  Her 
body still pulsed with the incredible orgasm he had given her, 
and he slid easily inside, groaning with pleasure.

His thrusts were languid and gentle, letting her ease into the 
rhythm her body instinctively matched.  Wrapping her arms around 
his back, feeling his crinkly chest hairs teasing her nipples, 
she slowly ran her hands down to grasp his ass.  His movements 
picked up, the thrusts coming harder and faster, rocking her 
against the mattress.  She spread her legs wide, tilting her 
pelvis, and felt his pubic bone bumping her clit.  She began to 
wiggle a little, each time he thrust, intensifying the feeling, 
and thrusting upwards.

Mulder had his face buried in her neck, his breaths hot beneath 
her ear, and he groaned suddenly, "I'm coming, Scully, oh, 
God, Scully."

He began thrusting frantically, and she matched his pace, 
feeling the pleasure building inside again.  She gasped out,
"Come for me, Mulder."

With one last hard thrust, he did, gasping, 
"LoveyouScullyohGodthatfeelssogoodScullyloveyou."

She followed seconds later, her inner walls contracting and 
pulsing, and cried, "Mulder!  Oh, God, Mulder I love you."

They continued to move for long moments, her arms now tight 
around his waist, holding him to her, one of his arms under 
her shoulder, the other hand fisted in her hair.  Panting, he 
lifted his head from her neck and met her lips in a sweet kiss, 
before rolling onto his side and pulling her onto hers, their 
bodies still joined.

Eventually, her pulse slowed and her breath returned to normal.  
His penis slipped out, leaving a slight burning sensation 
between her legs, and with a little groan, she pulled reluctantly 
away from him.  

He groaned too, rolling onto his back, one hand scratching his 
chest.  

She sat up and leaning over him, pressing one more kiss on his 
lips before rising.  She stretched up on her toes, her arms above 
her head, comfortable with her nudity.

He lifted his head, punching the pillow into shape beneath him 
and propped himself on it, watching her slip into her robe.  
Huskily he said, "Where you going?"

Scully felt her cheeks redden.  It had been so long since there 
had been a man in her bed, and after-sex etiquette was a distant 
memory. Despite being unconcerned about being naked before him, 
she was embarrassed to say she needed to clean herself up, and 
instead said, "I'm thirsty.  Do you want anything?"

Mulder's eyes were knowing, and he smiled gently.  "Sure.  
Water, please."

She smiled back, the embarrassment easing, and was just turning 
to go when his next words halted her.  

"Love you, Scully."

She paused, the smile still on her face and tilting her head 
slightly to the side to regard him, replied, "I know."  She said 
the words calmly, matter-of-factly, secure in the knowledge that 
it was the truth.  "I love you too."  She turned and walked to 
the door.  Her bones felt loose, her entire body relaxed and 
replete. 

About to pass over the threshold, she had a thought, a variation 
on the fantasy in his office, and what he had done to her, and 
she paused, turning without turning to face him, her hand resting 
on the doorjamb.  "I thought of another dream, Mulder."

He cleared his throat and said, "Yes?"

She smiled slowly, although he couldn't see it.  

"In this one, I fellate you until you scream."

Dead silence.

Gotcha, she thought, and sauntered off down the hallway.

***

end Part 16 of 29