From: MoJoBer Date: 30 Oct 1999 14:27:56 GMT Subject: NEW: Tarnished Halo by MoJo 1/1 MSR NC-17 "Tarnished Halo" by MoJo 1/1 Rating: NC-17 Category: MSR Archive: Sure, just slap the MoJo on it wherever it goes. Spoilers: Field Trip, Milagros, FTF. Summary: Mulder delves into Scully's religious morals. Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine and are property of CC and the fine folks at 1013 and Fox. Artist's Notes: Well, I'm pretty damn excited the new season starts in just over a week! The font of the same name, available at www.fontfreak.com inspired this. Jori, you are my Ebert and F-14 supplier. Cmdr. MoJo is grateful. http://members.aol.com/mojober/index.html ********* FBI Headquarters Washington, DC 7:02 p.m. Our office is reverently quiet, except for the gentle tapping of Scully's fingers on her laptop keyboard. Scully has not said a word about what happened last week in Richmond. Instead, she chose to immerse us both in work, so she would be reminded of what our relationship should center around. It's amazing I can see her over the crap piled on my desk. She dumped stacks of files for us to complete, promising Skinner a quarterly report in the morning. It's already 7:00 p.m. and what little sun makes it into the basement faded two hours ago, thanks to daylight savings time ending. We're all alone in our underground FBI chapel of truth, justice and the American way. Everything we are and everything we've done is contained in this office, the sum of our life together. Special Agent Fox Mulder and Special Agent Dana Scully's partnership eloquently transcribed in each and every X-file. Concise. Comprehensive. Professional. Omitted from these pages is what is written between the lines, the details that only she and I know about. A thousand late night phone calls, each and every stolen touch, secret glimpses of naked flesh and a near kiss in my hallway. Our latest indiscretion is worse than all the others combined and I know it is blemishing her Christian conscious. I have no sense of guilt over what transpired and I can't understand why she does. Her fingers have stopped. Scully stares blankly at the screen, idly twirling the chain of her small, gold cross. Is she whispering a silent prayer of purity to keep those lustful thoughts from entering her mind? Or is she renewing her pledge of chastity where I'm concerned? She can feel my eyes on her and Scully looks over at me accusingly. There's no mistaking the slight flush in her cheeks. I know she was just thinking about it. She wears a burgundy suit with a skirt today; the warm rich color a sharp departure from the somber black she has worn day in and day out for years. Instead of a sensible T-shirt underneath the blazer, she found one of her white blouses. The ones she used to wear long ago that cross in the front, accentuating her breasts as it dips into a 'v'. Her shapely legs are wrapped in silk stockings and her feet in tall pumps. I am certain it is deliberate. I don't know how she expects me to concentrate on anything else when she's dressed like that. She's a thinking man's seductress and she knows it. Every now and then, she steals a glance at me, quickly lowering her eyes to avoid mine as if she would be turned into a pillar of salt if caught. It would be easier if we could just talk about it, get it out in the open. I can handle being rejected; after all, my love life has been non-existent for so long that I could probably claim celibacy. Which is why kissing her last week felt so damn right. We were standing in the middle of my hotel room, arguing over something pointless when I did it. It wasn't a delicate brush of lips, either. I just grabbed her, yanking that beautiful mouth to mine and seizing the moment before it would be taken away like all the others. Next, I touched her. My hand pressed up into her breast, cupping the soft flesh and squeezing. I felt her nipple hardening underneath my palm, encouraging me to continue. The whole time, our mouths never separated. Her fingernails gripped my shoulders, then scraped down my chest until they came into contact with something that made her stop. My FBI lapel badge. Her eyes stared at the large blue letters that spelled out FBI, the seal and my picture taken long ago before we met. Scully looked up me, her eyes filled with instant regret at the reminder of what I was to her. Her partner. We had broken the sacred commandment that forbids us to alter our relationship. Now here we are. Our office has become a haven to which she has retreated. A self-made Purgatory for expiatory purification and ex-communication, only I'm not the one wearing the sackcloth and ashes. "Mulder," she says, snapping me out of my psychoanalysis. "I can't read this." Scully gets up, slowly uncrossing her legs before standing. She walks around my desk, dropping the file dead center in front of me. "The fungus among us," I quip, recognizing the case immediately. Our little field trip out to Brown Mountain, North Carolina. Scully leans in, the cross dangling out and catching the light. I stare past it, letting my eyes wander lower to the space between her breasts. Her heart. "Does this say primarily dense or does it say derogatory tense?" she asks, drumming her fingers impatiently. "It says," I begin, covering her hand with mine to stop it. "Perfunctory dance, in which we have become Ballroom Grand Master Championship experts at." "I wish you'd type your field reports," she says, visibly flustered by the contact. She tries to pull her hand away, but I won't let her. Instead, I rotate it around, stroking the sensitive skin of her palm. "Mul-der," she whispers in dismay, watching my motions. "All I can clearly recall is reaching over to you in the ambulance and holding your hand for miles and miles," I say, tracing her lifeline. "Do you remember that, Scully?" She is quiet as her tongue flickers out to wet the corner of her mouth. "I was pretty out of it, Mulder." She can't even acknowledge it, can she? I let go of her hand and she takes the file from me, standing up. How can one person be so sanctimonious? She walks over to the file cabinet, pulling a drawer open and thumbing through it. I stare at her incredulously. Scully has her back to me as she files. Within seconds, I am on my feet and right behind her. As soon as she puts it back in place and her fingers are clear, I slam it shut. It startles her and Scully spins around to face me. "You remember," I say, giving her full advantage of my height. She is cornered against the cabinet and there is no place for her to go except through me. "I reached over to you and you put your hand in mine. Why do you want to deny it?" "I don't," she replies defensively. She backs away from me, trying to establish safe distance but she can't. Her personal space is being invaded. She clears her throat. "But we were under LSD-like alkaloid and it can create false..." "Spare me the hypotheticals," I counter. I step even closer, forcing her to look up at me. I put my hands on my hips, ready to hear her confession. If she wants to clean her soul of what happened between us, then the absolution better come from me. "And while we're questioning field reports, I noticed an omission from one of yours." She narrows her eyes at me. "Which one." "Padgett," I reply, waiting for her reaction. Her skin begins to flush under my gaze, but she holds her ground. "Who are you in love with?" "Why is that relevant?" she answers sharply. "Oh, its very relevant or else he wouldn't have send his character after you," I say, leaning in so our mouths only inches apart. "He almost killed you right on the floor of my apartment. When you woke up, you held onto me so tightly. You *do* remember that." "What do you want me to say? That I was vulnerable?" she asks, clenching her teeth. "I nearly had my heart ripped out, Mulder." "Why do we never talk about it?" I ask. This time, I'm not letting it drop. "Back off, Mulder," she snaps, trying to push me away. "No," I say, catching her wrists. We struggle a bit against each other. "I want an answer and I want it now. Why do we never talk about it when it happens?" "When what happens?" she says angrily, breaking away from me. "Last week," I say, as she folds her arms protectively around her. "I kissed you. I touched you." "And?" she says, raising her eyebrow. "Did you enjoy it?" I say, as my heart pounds loudly. Scully looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. She wasn't expecting such a direct inquiry. We've always let these things just go, falling back into our dutiful roles. I'm not going along with it anymore. "Did you?" I press, seeing her struggle with the question. "I...did," she whispers, her lower lip trembling. I put my hands on her arms and hold her in place. Now, we are getting somewhere. My eyes fixate on that damn cross; St. Dana Scully is about to have her morality tested in a trial by fire. "Do you want me to do it again?" I ask, as my lips brush hers. She exhales, parting her lips invitingly. Scully nods, afraid to utter the words out loud. My sweet heretic is finally dissenting from her accepted beliefs and doctrine. I close the gap between us as our mouths meld together. My tongue traces the contours of hers and she leans into me. I can feel her surrender as she gives into temptation once again, knowing this time she might finally fall from grace. I break it off suddenly and before she can react, I turn her around, pressing her body against the file cabinet. My hands drift down her back, her buttocks. Her fingers clutch the handles of the drawer, holding herself steady as I explore. I tug at the hemline, watching it hitch up her slim thighs. "Mulder, please," she breathes, sighing deeply. My lips travel to the nape of her neck, brushing her hair off to the side. She arches her back into me, savoring the embrace. I breathe in the incense of her hair. "No," she protests weakly as she moans. She throws back her head, letting it fall against my shoulder. Her arm snakes around my neck, entwining her fingers in my hair. Tugging and pulling. My other hand moves to her waist, pulling that lovely white blouse from her skirt then holding her to me. I part my lips just enough to run my tongue along her skin, tasting Scully. I stop at her ear to whisper permission. "Do you want me to stop?" I ask. This must be her choice, her free will. She buries her head into my shoulder as she turns her body around in my arms. Now that we are face to face, Scully looks up at me. Electricity charges the air around us and time stands still as I wait for her answer. Slowly, her arms reach around my neck. She rises up on her toes as she presses the length of her body to mine, pulling me towards her. Her back slams gently into the cabinet again as her lips seek mine. They part before contact is made, drawing me into her. I sink into Scully's mouth, claiming it selfishly again. Our tongues mesh, entwining and exploring the other's thoroughly. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes rapidly. She pushes me back towards the desk until I have no choice but to sit on the edge, making us eye level with each other. Her body fits neatly between my legs and I let my hands drift everywhere, memorizing each and every curve forever. "Scully?" I ask, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She sighs at the touch, as if she is finally being released. "Do you want me?" "Yes," she affirms, voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes have darkened, filled with lust and longing. I cannot waste anymore time. I want to be inside her and I don't want to wait. "Did you lock the door?" I ask, glancing over at it. "Did you?" she counters, swallowing hard. Her body tenses at the revelation that anyone could walk in on us. "I think so," I reply, not wanting her to move an inch. Fearful of disturbing whatever is possessing Scully's soul at the moment and allowing her to finally give in. "It's late...we're the only ones here." "No witnesses," she says, diverting her eyes. But she lies. Her God will witness our copulation and I know she will be held accountable for her actions. Perhaps she will even confess it in the sacrament of reconciliation just to receive absolution for it. "No one but me," I say, not wanting her to feel guilty before we even start. I place my hand underneath her chin and raise her face back up to mine, capturing her mouth in a long, solid kiss. I must have ignited the fires of hell, for something starts to smolder inside Scully. Her hands pull at my tie, working the knot quickly out and it falls like a silk serpent to the floor. Next, my gun holster drops with a thud on the desk behind us. My fingers trace the 'v' of her blouse, dipping it lower and lower until the fabric starts to separate, revealing the black lace of her bra. I smile at the discovery. Black bra underneath a white blouse? I reach inside, sliding my hand underneath the bra to her breast. It is small, but firm and its weight feels good in my palm. I brush the nipple with my thumb, enjoying how it hardens in response. If she would only let me, I will learn everything about her body and make it my personal crusade from now until the day I die. We continue to kiss, rotating our faces as we shift around. Her hands lower to my belt buckle, blindly unfastening it. She is so close to my cock that she brushes it accidentally as she works, causing it to ache with anticipation. Its throbbing hardness begs to be freed, but I do not want to rush her. To distract myself, I unbutton her blouse with fervor. My mind races to find a position we can try in our limited space. The desk? The wall? My chair? Standing? Sitting? Once her blouse is open, Scully shakes out of it. She stops kissing me and looks down at the space between my legs, then back up. "Scully?" I ask nervously as she drops to her knees before me. Dear God. Is she. . .? She unzips my slacks before I can stop her. Within seconds, she moves the fabric of my boxers away and wraps her slim fingers around my member. Releasing me. Soon, her mouth replaces her fingers. I grip the sides of the desk and dig my feet into the floor, grounding myself as she takes my length in her mouth. I cry out, surprised by the wet and warmth. Her tongue flickers around me and I fight the urge to thrust into it. Sensing this, she slides her mouth up and down, her teeth grazing me gently. I swell inside her, willing my body not come just yet. I look down at her fiery head nestled between my thighs and place my hands on either side of her face to get her attention. Scully travels the length of me one final time before removing her mouth and I nearly orgasm just from the look in her eyes. I pull her to her feet, making us equal again. Another option flutters across my mind. "The door," I say, wrapping her firmly in my arms. With little effort, I carry her over to it until her back is against the wood. The perfect barrier. "Not a sound," she warns, biting her lower lip. I nod my head in agreement as I release her. I grab a handful of her skirt, pulling it up sharply. I explore the silky expanse of her legs and find she is wearing black thigh-high stockings. The kind with lacy elastic tops so no garter belt is necessary. Her mouth seeks mine again, drawing my breath from me as she kisses. Her fingers greedily push my slacks and boxers down. I pull her skirt up higher so it is around her waist. She's got on a tiny pair of black panties that match her bra. Paired with the stockings, it is my every fantasy come true. I cup her perfect ass in both my hands and lift her up. Scully holds onto my neck, providing enough support. Her legs wrap around my waist, holding me tightly to her and drawing me closer. I snake one hand around to push the fabric of her panties aside. She closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable moment. I slide myself into her depths, feeling her wet, hot core stretch around me. Slowly, I sink deeper to the place where my divinity is found. I close my eyes, seeing only a white-hot light as it sears through my brain. Is this where they got the expression ecstasy? Or is this what heaven looks like? "Now, Mulder," she whispers, bracing herself tighter. I start to pump into her, thrusting hard and deep. I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers. All my blood races from my head to my groin, leaving me with a sense of euphoria. I open my eyes to gaze upon the face of my dark angel. The door rattles slightly from the movements, but holds fast. Sweat glistens on her skin from the intensity of our coupling. We aren't making love; we're having sex. Purely carnal. She breathes hard, sucking in air with short, quick breaths and trying desperately not to cry out. I see the strain across her features, edged with pleasure. Her body starts to quake around me and she lets her head fall back against the door. "Yes," she mouths, as she thrusts her hips downward to grind harder into me. Her entire body tenses, then relaxes into my arms as she comes, quaking inside. Her fingernails dig hard into my shoulder, nearly grazing me through the thin cotton of my dress shirt. I lower my lips to hers, brushing them slightly as she smiles beneath them. Scully is still for a minute, letting the orgasm wash over her. She spirals back down to earth just in time to watch mine. I get a better grip on her buttocks, then slam into her, charged by the energy her body is giving off. She rocks in time with me, increasing the sweet friction until it finally explodes. I let out a satisfied moan when it finally hits me. Releasing myself into her body, making me one in communion with her. I shudder over and over again, letting my head fall on her shoulder while I recover. Her legs tighten their grip around my waist, keeping me pinned inside her until I'm finished. Finally, out of necessity, I have to withdraw. I carefully slide out of her wetness and lower her to the ground. Moisture is running down her inner thighs in hot rivulets. Scully lets her skirt fall, covering herself modestly. She leans against the door. Her eyes close and her chest rises and falls steadily as she catches her breath. I watch her intensely; realizing a transformation has taken place. She doesn't look the same. It's written all over her face, her body, her demeanor. Everything. She is guilty as sin. Her halo is tarnished now. ******** The End Feedback always welcome! MoJoBer@aol.com http://members.aol.com/mojober/index.html