From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 31 May 2005 16:51:40 -0000 Subject: Under a Wolf Dog Moon (NC-17) by OKayVal Source: direct Reply To: okayval@yahoo.com Title: Under a Wolf Dog Moon Author: OKayVal Email: okayval@yahoo.com Website: http://donnilee.tripod.com/okayval Rating: Adults Only, please! Archive: Honored; just tell me where Category: RST, Post-Ep Pairings: Mulder/Scully Spoilers: Alpha Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill. Summary: "Don't underestimate a woman." Scenes and post-ep for Alpha. Written for Fandomonium's "Virtual Season of Smut-- Season 6" Challenge; huge thanks to Tali for pulling this one out of the deep freeze and making me turn up the heat. "She give me candy stick kisses 'neath a wolf dog moon One sweet breath and she'll take you, mister, to the upper room I was burned by the angels, sold wings of lead Then I fell in the roses and sweet salvation of Maria's bed" --Bruce Springsteen, "Maria's Bed"-- *** "So let me get this straight, Agent Scully. You're saying that Detweiler not only had the ability to transform himself into a dog, but also committed the murders while he was in this form?" Skinner looked up from his desk and leaned forward expectantly. "I can't explain it, Sir, but I know what I saw. The local police have been unable to recover the animal since the night Detweiler was killed, and the murders have stopped." She shifted in her chair, hoping that Skinner would accept her word as well as her report. She'd written the entire thing; Mulder seemed to have no interest in completing it. When Skinner asked to see them in his office, Mulder refused to go, so she'd left him at his desk, staring glumly at his computer. She knew he was rereading old emails from Karin Berquist and trying to discover a way he might have saved her, might have seen through her carefully crafted smokescreens. Scully knew he blamed himself for Karin's death, and she was worried about him and anxious to get back downstairs. "I assume Agent Mulder agrees with these findings, despite his absence at this meeting?" Skinner asked. "Yes, Sir, he does." She had already told Skinner that Mulder felt somewhat responsible for Karin's death, but she'd purposely left out the part where she believed that Mulder had been manipulated, and how much that bothered her. Skinner looked at her report again and she stared over his shoulder out of the window. Although their flight from California had just landed that morning, Skinner had insisted on a completed report by the end of the day. It was most certainly past that now, she thought, staring out at a sliver of moonlight peeking through the night sky. She recalled the way the moon's glow revealed the look of dismay on Mulder's face, when he discovered Karin's body lying on the ground amidst shards of shattered glass. Skinner finally seemed satisfied with her report and dismissed her. She hurried out of his office and was almost at the elevator when a secretary stopped her, waving a cardboard mailing tube. She accepted the tube and studied the labels while she waited for the elevator. It was addressed to Mulder and came from Berquist Kennels. She immediately knew what was inside, and marveled again at Karin's cunning. For someone claiming to lack feminine wiles, as Karin herself had put it, she'd certainly figured out how to get Mulder's attention. The basement office was quiet and she found Mulder still seated at his desk, holding his head in his hands. The sight of him tugged at her heart. He responded when she spoke to him, but he looked weary and distracted, rubbing his eyes as she tried to gently reassure him that he was not to blame for what had happened in San Diego. Doubtful that Mulder was really listening to her, she turned to leave, handing him the mailing tube on her way out. She did not wait to watch him open it, but instead walked slowly to the elevator, listening for his voice or for his footsteps, in case he tried to call her back. She heard nothing but the click of her own heels on the tile floor. She got as far as the parking garage before guilt took over. Standing next to her car, she unlocked the door but did not open it. Why did she leave him alone? He'd sit there and brood for hours. Just because he hadn't asked her to stay was no reason for her to leave. She was tired of being kept at arm's length. Part of that was her own fault, she knew. She was just as guilty of hiding her feelings from Mulder as Karin Berquist had been. He'd tried to tell her how he felt once, but she'd rebuffed him, blaming it on his overly medicated state. Well, no more. It was time to stop hiding. She locked her car and walked briskly back into the building. Reaching the basement, she noticed the light still shining into the hall from the office doorway. As she'd thought, Mulder was at his desk, now staring thoughtfully at the "I Want To Believe" poster which he had pinned up on the wall, in the same place where the old one had been. It was comforting and familiar to see it there again, but she wished she had been the one to replace it for him. Mulder either sensed or heard her approach. He turned around and looked at her. The moon cast a faint gleam through the small window near the ceiling, making the room brighter, yet she could not read his expression. "Mulder, are you sure you're ok?" He studied her for a long moment but did not reply. She entered the office and closed the door behind her. Mulder watched her steadily as she came around to his side of the desk and leaned against it. She folded her arms and stared back at him. "Scully, how did you know?" he finally said. "I mean, I'm supposed to be the profiler." "She hid it from you. It's easy for women to hide things from men. But women can see through each other." "Because women understand each other better than men do," he nodded, keeping his green eyes locked on hers. "Yes, because a woman can tell when another woman," she paused, took a breath, "shows interest in a man she cares about." Mulder's eyes glittered but he didn't move. "Cares about?" She moved closer to his chair and looked down at him, a vantage point she rarely had. It gave her a wonderful feeling of control. "Loves," she said clearly. Mulder inhaled sharply but said nothing. He continued to stare at her with such fervor that she felt it through her skin, and his message was loud and clear: *Your move, Scully*. She leaned forward and planted a soft, feathery kiss on his mouth. Mulder's lips parted and his tongue flicked against her mouth, tasting, teasing, and then it was as though a switch had been flipped inside of him. He reached out and pulled her between his legs. His hands wandered all over her body, cupping at her breasts, her ass, any part of her that he could reach. Years of her own pent-up fantasies about Mulder flooded to the surface, and she greedily unleashed them, running one hand down to his leg and sliding it up his thigh until her fingers skimmed against his lap, finding his erection. Mulder moaned at the contact and she shivered from the heat of his mouth on hers and the hardness beneath her fingers. Why had she wasted so much time, when he had been here for her all along? Desperate for more, Mulder tried to pull her into his lap; the chair tilted back and the arms hindered her somewhat, but she managed to plant her knees on either side of his hips and he groaned as she straddled him and settled herself against his hard-on. It dawned on her that if they continued down this road, they were going to make love right here, in this damned basement where they'd first met, and she didn't care because she wanted him badly. His mouth was sweet, hot, and she bared her teeth and nipped at his lower lip. Her ferocity surprised her, and Mulder too. When she stopped kissing him to draw a breath, he took her face between her hands and looked at her. "Scully, I'm so stupid. I was so afraid of being wrong." "Me too, Mulder." They rocked against each other in the chair, and it rocked with them. Finally Mulder lifted her off of his lap, stood her between his legs, and began frantically trying to remove her trousers. He yanked them down and she kicked them off quickly, gripping his arms for support. She felt his taut strength beneath the shirt fabric and was eager to feel his skin. She reached up to undo the buttons of Mulder's shirt, but her fingers began to shake when he moved his hand down her body and began to run his finger along the damp fabric between her legs. Gasping, she gave up on his shirt and reached for his zipper, making him groan. She felt him, thick and pulsing in her fingers, and watched his eyes close when she curled her hand around him. She began to stroke him gently, but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her. "I don't think I can last, Scully," he said, his voice rough. Lifting her hand from his cock, he picked her up, wheeled around and set her on the edge of his desk. She squirmed as he tugged at her panties so hard that he nearly ripped them off of her. The final barrier gone, Mulder stepped between her legs and entered her with one smooth thrust. "God, Scully," he gasped. She was so wet, so inflamed, that the abrupt contact of his hard, searing heat left her speechless; she could only moan and grip his arms tightly. Mulder began to move then, his breath coming in loud pants, his hips rocking against hers. She moved with him to keep the sweet friction going, and kept her eyes open so she could see his face. His eyes were open, too, and the look he gave her was one of pure hunger. She clung to his arms and tried to keep from sliding across the desk as his strokes grew faster, deeper. She wanted him to go deeper still, and tightened her legs around his waist to urge him on. Mulder groaned in response and suddenly she felt his finger rub against her clit. His touch sent electric shocks through her, and she writhed wildly beneath him. "You like that, Scully?" Mulder growled, then did it again. "Yes, oh my god, Mulder," she managed to gasp, and when he did it yet again, he followed with a hard thrust of his cock, and she came, in great, forceful waves of pleasure that seemed to go on and on. She felt Mulder begin to shudder, and he drew her into his arms as he rode those waves with her. *** She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the wall behind Mulder's desk, and realized that he had just fucked her senseless in front of that damned poster. I Want To Believe. I do believe, she thought, in this. In us. Her legs remained entwined around Mulder, who was clinging to her for dear life; he was breathing hard and she was amazed that he could still stand up. She ran her fingers lightly across his back and he shivered, then stepped back to look at her. "Wow, Scully, you sure know how to help a guy feather the nest." Only Mulder could say something so ridiculous at such a serious moment. She laughed and watched the way his face shone with joy, brighter than any moonlight. *** Finis *** Feedback welcomed. It's all good!