From: Ten Date: Sun, 13 Sep 1998 07:51:18 +1000 (EST) Subject: "The Worship of Flowers" (1/2) *NC-17* by Ten and Crash TITLE: "The Worship of Flowers" (1/2) BY: Ten and Crash E-MAIL ADDRESSES: kristena@ocean.com.au and crashed52@hotmail.com CATEGORY: MSR, H, V RATING: ****NC-17**** Definitely. If you're underage or this isn't your bed of flowers, then bail now! SUMMARY: Let's see...Exhausted Mulder, a bunch of flowers, Scully's apartment, Irish Goddesses, flowers in hair and everywhere, mythology lessons, recovered Mulder and wild sex. That covers it. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Set in the third season at some point before "Quagmire", mentions "Anasazi". ARCHIVE INFO: Can be archived anywhere as long as our names, addys and disclaimer stay intact. FEEDBACK: Absolutely! We love it! TEN'S DEDICATION: This story is for the one and only Crash, who helped me rescue it from obscurity on disk. It was the seventeenth xf story I wrote (there are now 78 in varying stages of completion on disk...) and I got stuck, so left it. But along came Crash to fill in the blanks and do the research, finding the perfect flowers and mythology info and generally saving the day. She has a habit of doing that. Thanks for all the giggles and stories and support. I won't tell your Mom if you don't tell my Mum! LOL... A NOTE FROM CRASH: I was very touched and flattered that Ten asked me to pitch in with this story. I fear she gives me a little more credit than I'm due. The rough bit she sent me was the wonderful kernel of a story dying to get out. What you see here is the result of Ten's creativity and my tenacity for ferreting out the mundane details. And don't worry Ten, my Mom and your Mum will never be the wiser! ; ) DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. IRISH MYTHOLOGY SOURCES: 'The Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom' by Caitlin & John Mathews, copyright Element Books, Inc. 1994 and The Goddess Index at http://www.witchs-brew.com/shadows/goddess The X-Files: "The Worship of Flowers" By Crash and Ten Started around December 1996, completed September 1998 Friday morning - 6am Mulder slumped in the taxi, feeling absolutely wasted. Had he given the driver his address? He couldn't remember. But the guy was zipping through the traffic with an apparent destination in mind, and frankly Mulder didn't care if they pulled up outside an open spacecraft in the middle of the desert, just as long as the little gray man pointed him in the direction of the nearest bed or sofa. Damn gray men probably didn't need sleep. Just his luck. Charles Scully had been in an accident five days ago; Scully and her mother were at the Norfolk Virginia Naval base to make sure he was all right and help the family. Thankfully, it looked like extensive physiotherapy would get him back to his old self. "He doesn't bounce back as quickly as you, Mulder," Scully had said over the phone yesterday morning. "Not as much practice. Not as much stubbornness. But he'll get there fine anyway." "That's great. How long will you stay for?" "I'm coming home Saturday afternoon. I don't want to leave Queequeg at the sitter's too long. Or you up to your own devices in the office. What are you up to?" "Oh, no new X-Files, so Skinner shunted me onto stakeout duty for a dull case. To help out." "A normal case you mean." "Yep, dull. You having more fun over there? Enjoying having a patient that doesn't complain as much as I do?" "It's lovely here at the moment. I'm staring out the window at the neighbor's trellis; she has the most gorgeous moonflowers. They look so beautiful." He smiled at the dreamy quality in her voice. "What does a moonflower look like, Scully?" "I know you've seen them, Mulder," she said with mock indignation. "You know - they're very tall and viney. With large, white, heart-shaped petals." Mulder's eidetic memory kicked into high gear. Finally, an image clicked into his mind's eye like a slide falling into place. "Oh yeah...I've seen them." "Yes -" Then there was a shrieking noise from her end of the line. "Mulder, I have to go. I have a wailing banshee of a niece to feed." They both laughed. "Bye, Scully." He'd had to pour a lot of time into this blasted stakeout. Having to do another consecutive shift because the relieving agents and most of the damn department went down with food poisoning from a little birthday bash. Which he of course hadn't been invited to. Which he of course wouldn't have bothered with. Great. /But, home now. When everyone else is getting up... Sleep now! ...Just a second./ "Hey." He sat up straighter. "Just a second, pull over!" The cabbie obliged, startled that the near-corpse in the back had so suddenly perked up. "I'll be back in a minute." Mulder scuttled back down the street to the flash of white he had seen. Outside a townhouse was a large trellis covered with large, white flowers. He sprinted up to them and took in their heady scent. He put his nose to one and inhaled deeply. "Ahem." /Whoops. Not alone./ "Uh...sorry, ma'am. Are these moonflowers?" he asked the sweet-looking woman who was staring at him as if he were some sort of common cretin. Given his rumpled appearance and the early hour, Mulder was certain that was exactly how he looked. The woman shifted her empty wicker basket around so she could bring a hand up to push the gray strands of hair from her face. "Yes, they are," she replied matter of factly. "They're beautiful...I love the fragrance," he told her dreamily. That got a smile from her. Mulder surmised she must have decided he wasn't all bad if he appreciated her flowers. "I was just about to cut some for a bouquet," she said. "Would you like some?" "Oh...uh...yeah, that'd be great...I know someone who would really like them." This got him a bit of a scowl. "Out prowling late last night, son? Am I providing you with a peace offering?" Mulder held back a laugh at her assessment of his predicament but remained mute. "Moonflowers are a symbol of a dream of love," she said, clipping off three of the huge blossoms and handing them to him. "Really...I...I didn't know that," he stammered. The old woman chuckled. "And they open in the evening, staying open until noon the next day." She turned to a small grouping of asters below the trellis. She lopped some of those off as well. "Here, if you're going to make a bouquet, do it right. Use these for filler since you only have three blossoms. It should be a beautiful arrangement...and you look like you could use all the help you can get." Behind them the cabbie honked impatiently. Mulder thanked the woman and sprinted back to the cab. Scully was right, these were beautiful. He gave the taxi driver her address and settled back again, holding the flowers carefully. He was really missing her. But it was Friday; she would be home soon. He'd leave the flowers there on the table where she could see them as soon as she walked in. Hopefully they wouldn't wilt too much in the meantime. He should have asked the woman if he could get them tomorrow. But he wasn't thinking at full capacity, and the gesture and imagining how Scully would smile were all that mattered to him. The taxi pulled up at her apartment. Mulder hesitated, wondering if the poor man would wait again while he rattled around Scully's cupboards searching for a vase. He sent the taxi on its way. It would be nice to stay there a little; give him a chance to put the flowers out with a bit of care instead of dumping them in the water. A chance to feel her presence and draw strength from it. He was so tired. Even the light, delicate flowers felt like a load of logs as he staggered towards her apartment. Would she get the wrong idea? Was the wrong idea the right idea in disguise? Mulder managed to find a large enough vase for the moonflower blooms. He arranged them and then put the asters in around them. He was no Martha Stewart, but he thought the arrangement looked pretty enough. He sat the vase down in the center of her coffee table and admired his handiwork. He was in danger of nodding off. He'd just lie down for a bit. Just a quick nap. This sofa was too small for his frame - his lower legs hung over - but if he curled up on his side a bit it would do. He didn't dare go into her bedroom. The only time he had ventured there was at her direction, and that night was a blur of heat that had nothing to do with passion. Fever and nightmares...and being anchored by Scully. It was enough to be here in her living room, surrounded by her possessions, smelling the flowers' scent that she would be smelling at that moment, dreaming of her. He drifted off. The dream came, like it always did. She was surrounded by green, and tiny white flowers adorned her hair. 10:03am "Thank you, Agent Scully. That recommendation will be very useful. I apologize for having to phone up on your leave." "No, that's fine, Sir. I'm on my way back anyway. Oh, do you know if Agent Mulder is still on stakeout duty?" "The stakeout finished last night at 2am. They got Patricia Ayers with enough evidence to put her and four others away. Mulder came back to the office and did a mountain of paperwork to wrap it up before heading home. From the look of him, I suggest you don't try phoning until you think he's caught up on his equivalent of four day's sleep." "Oh, thank you, Sir... I WAS just about to." Skinner was not surprised. "Mulder..." Her voice. Not only was he seeing her but now he was hearing her voice in his dreams. "Mulder...." More insistently now. /Answer her./ "Hmmm?" Her voice: soft, gentle. "Mulder, come on..." Those small hands were pulling gently but insistently on his arm. "This can't be comfortable. I want you to lie down." "I am lying down," he protested, dazed, as he reluctantly sat up. Stood up. Felt her leading him forwards, unzipping his coat. "Let me take your coat." He felt it go, her hands steering him as he shuffled. Those words...he'd heard them before. Or WAS this before? "We've got to find them, Scully," he murmured. "What? Who?" She sounded confused. But she knew! It was hard to keep his eyes even at half-mast. "We gotta find out who killed my father!" He heard her alarmed gasp, and immediately a tiny hand was pressed up against his forehead. A shaky sigh of relief reached his ears. "No, Mulder." Her voice was a little sad, realizing. "You need rest now. It's okay. You've been on the stakeout from hell and you're very tired." She sat him down on the bed. He let her lie him back down. "I'll be here when you wake up. I promise this time I will." He let her hand stroking his cheek rock him back into sleep. /God, I even feel her in my dreams./ It was the same, but different. He awoke in Scully's bed, still tired, but more aware. It was night now. Of what day? He sat up. Looked around. The clock said 11.34pm. Had he dreamed she was here? Had he foolishly come into the bedroom himself instead of staying on the safety of the sofa? He was covered by a sheet and thin blanket. Was wearing his boxers and undershirt. His wing-tip shoes sat on the floor. That could have been him. Then Mulder saw his coat and other clothes, folded neatly over the bedstead. That definitely wasn't him. And the shoes were set together with military precision. /Yep, she's been here./ Where was she now? It wasn't that night over again. He wasn't drugged. If she wasn't in the apartment it was not going to set off that horrible feeling of betrayal and loss. But he hoped she was there. Mulder went out into the living room. He found Scully asleep on the sofa, sprawled back in a sitting position as if to be able to look directly at the flowers before her, and to be able to instantly spring up if she heard his cries. Beautiful. However, not fair to her. This was her home and he was imposing. Quietly he came around and gently picked his partner up. Not a burden to his arms in the least. Carried her to bed. To "his" side. He was pretty sure Scully slept on the other half. The phone and alarm clock were on that stand. But the sheets were down on this side and it had his warmth. He removed her slippers as carefully as Cinderella's. /Better not go as far as taking her down to her underwear.../ She was in leggings and an oversized t-shirt anyway, comfortable enough to sleep in. Scully barely stirred through the whole process. Now, tucked up, she gave a small murmur of contentment and kept sleeping. She could have woken up screaming and kicking, but he knew that on some subconscious level, she knew it was him, and she was safe. Just like she made him feel. Mulder headed back for the sofa. He couldn't just walk out on her. He SHOULD have walked out after leaving the flowers. /What did she think of them? How long was I asleep? What day is it?/ The sofa welcomed him with her warmth to its cramped confines. He was too tired to grumble. Day. Movement. Mulder opened his eyes on the sofa that was not his sofa and raised his head. That had been a great sleep: he'd banished the stakeout deprivation. From the way the light fell in the room, he knew it was morning. His eyes found a clock. Just after six. He was covered with a blanket. He looked into the kitchen and saw Scully going past, intent on making breakfast. He saw the robe she was wearing. Green silk. Mulder felt a familiar stirring but tamped it down. He saw the flower in her hair. One of the asters. He gaped. It was only a glimpse but that now-blessed memory of his brought it back and slowed it down as he heard her quietly working away at the counter. She'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail and - whether as a bit of fun or whatever - stuck one of the flowers in it. She looked gorgeous. Like something out of a fairy tale. One of his favorite images as a child was from books where the princesses always seemed to wear flowers in their hair. That particular adornment had always held a great appeal to him. When he had dreams about Scully, more often than he'd like to admit flowers played some part. As a garland, a crown, woven, singular... Making Scully relaxed and unfettered, without all the worries that usually kept her so austere. He got up and moved to the kitchen doorway. Afraid to move in further or speak lest this woman vanish like a fairy. "Oh, did I make too much noise? I wasn't sure whether to just cook for me or wake you or what." He shook his head. /Has she forgotten about the flower or is she deliberately wearing it?/ "Sorry about the gate crashing. I only meant to sit down for a minute. What day is it and how's Charlie?" She answered his last question first. "He's good. Mom's still up with them. I think she'll stay several weeks." Charlie's wife, Marie, had practically lived at the hospital since the accident and would have her hands full taking care of him, so Maggie's ongoing presence to look after their kids was very much appreciated. "It's Saturday morning. I came back early. And don't apologize for getting a decent day's sleep for a change. It sounded like a bad stakeout." He frowned. "What - did I talk in my sleep? Did...did I yell?" "No, I talked to Skinner. Though you were a bit upset and confused last night. About your father." Her eyes regarded him with concern. "I'm okay. I was too tired to think straight." "You didn't have to swap the couch with me, Mulder." He shrugged and grinned. Then something occurred to him and he looked around. "Where's the yap-fest?" That dog didn't like him. It kept leaping around his feet, barking incessantly. This meant that Mulder didn't drop by her apartment as often, which in turn meant that he didn't harbor warm feelings towards the mutt. "Queequeg is still at the dog-sitter's. Since I came home a day early I was going to go pick him up, but then I found you imbedded in the sofa and decided to wait until today. You needed a peaceful sleep." "Thanks." He smelt the air in appreciation. "What's for breakfast?" "Eggs and - oh God! The flowers! I forgot to thank you! I'm so sorry, Mulder. Seeing them there when I came in...and you there too, peaceful... Two special gifts." Suddenly her face reddened in memory and her hand went to pull the flower out of her hair. "Don't," he begged, stopping her. "But I only..." She flushed. "I didn't mean for you...it was just a silly little...oh God, that's not what I mean. I love these flowers." "Then why NOT wear one? I've always pictured princesses and Goddesses as having flowers woven through their hair, and Dana is an Irish Goddess, aren't you? In fact, I think you need more. Come onto the sofa and sit down. I want to try something." "But breakfast..." He looked around. "Everything's off the stove now isn't it? Nothing's going to burn." "No, but...it's ready and it'll just sit there..." "Do you care?" She hesitated, staring into his eyes. "No." He took her hand and led her to the sofa. He wouldn't let her see what he was doing. She could sort of tell, but enjoyed keeping her eyes closed and feeling his fingers in her hair. Mulder deftly wove the asters from the bouquet in her hair. He felt almost guilty just leaving the poor moonflowers there by themselves. Almost. "Thinking of taking up hairdressing as a second career, Mulder?" He chuckled. "No...I...I've often..." "What?" He flushed. "Nothing." Finally, he took her hand and led her to the bathroom mirror. She gasped. The styling would not win any awards, but the overall effect was dazzling. Mulder had undone her ponytail and redone it looser, with the hair from the sides of her face twisted over and over, back into the tie. Some locks he had pulled loose so they hung, and in the gaps the asters were woven into the anchoring twists. The small, white flowers looked like stars shimmering in her hair. They were beautiful against the full effect of her hair, her robe, her complexion. And the light in her eyes. "Mulder..." "Told you. A Goddess," he said as simply and believingly as if talking about a UFO. His eyes met hers in the mirror. Intense. "I've often pictured you this way...in my mind, in my dreams," he admitted. How would she take that? Scully thought of the dream she had last night on the sofa. There was no hiding the emotions in their eyes. The mirror showed everything. She turned and reached up for him and they kissed. /Never thought our first kiss would happen over my bathroom basin.../ was the thought thrown up in the storm that her mind became. Mulder's mind managed: /Thank God that dog isn't going to interrupt!/ Their mouths were meeting with a gentle but passionate firmness, tongues exploring, while their arms rested around each other. Then they parted, staring at each other with amazed smiles. "Ummm..." Mulder said, blinking. "We'd better see if we can salvage anything of breakfast," Scully suggested, touching his cheek. "Actually, I'd better go." It was clear he didn't want to, but thought he should. "I'll call you tonight." He pressed a kiss close to her mouth. "Okay?" His fingers brushed over the flowers in her hair, then he turned to leave the bathroom and get his clothes. "I don't want you to go." END PART ONE "The Worship of Flowers" (2/2) *NC-17* by Ten and Crash He stared at his goddess with her garlanded hair. "I want..." She blushed and grinned, then determinedly gathered her boldness. "I want you to deflower me." Mulder gaped and tried to find his footing in humor. "That...that is almost at my level of humor." "Goddesses want to be worshipped, don't they? Well, I want you to worship my body." He came closer and closer. "This servant...this servant already worships you. Your mind, your soul...everything. He is yours to command. As long as you are totally sure." "You aren't my servant. If I'm a Goddess, then you are my mate. A God. Mine. And I want to tell you how sure I am. Do you know what my favorite fantasy has been for the last three years?" Mulder shook his head, unwilling to dare guess, unwilling to dare hope. "You. In my bed. On top of me, pushing me into the mattress, pushing into me as I push back and you fill me hard and deep and I run my hands over your long smooth back, your behind, your shoulders, your hair..." Both were breathing heavily now, aroused with barely a touch exchanged. "You mean no..." He cleared his throat. "No swarthy pirates or Mel Gibson?" "No. Though I do vary our location or position sometimes. But the core is always the two of us. And that one was my favorite." "My favorite fantasy was mainly you under me, surrounding me, arms and legs wrapped around me and the way you looked at me and your cries and the pleasure on your face... Knowing I was actually making you happy, giving you joy..." "Worship me please, Fox." "As my Lady wishes." Mulder picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He was about to lay her on the bed when he froze and looked stricken. For a second Scully was worried that he'd strained his back. "Scully...Dana...precautions? I haven't got any. If you haven't, we can...you know...have outercourse instead; I wouldn't mind." She smiled, touched by the concern he was showing her. "I've got some in the drawer there." He let her down next to the bed. They both stood gazing at one another, a little taken aback by what was about to happen. Scully took a deep breath and the initiative, parting her robe a few inches. Mulder swallowed hard. His eyes followed the strip of her revealed flesh from her neck, down...over the swell of part of her left breast, down her stomach, her hip, right down her leg...uninterrupted by material apart from the sash of the robe. "All this time, you've been..." "Naked under the robe." "Oh, Dana." She hoped that his touch was as hot as the look he was giving her. He stepped closer to her and touched her hair. "Fire. They lit fires for you at Midsummer. I've read up about you," he said conversationally. "Huh?" It was hard to keep her thoughts straight. "You, Dana. My Goddess." His fingers slid down the side of her face, his eyes following them intently. They traveled down her neck, caressing. "Do you want to know what I've found out about you?" "Yes... Just don't stop...please..." "You are Dana. Anu. Anann, Aine. Goddess of Plenty, another aspect of Mother Earth. The greatest of all goddesses." His fingers were following the strip of flesh down, reaching her left breast. His voice was hypnotic as he traced over the curve, never going under the material, as much as her groans tried to encourage him to. "Two hills in Kerry, Ireland, are called the Paps of Anu." Ooooh, he was crafty. She wanted his hands on BOTH of her hills, and was so tempted to yank her robe off so he would, but this was wonderfully sweet torture. "The flowering fertility Goddess. Your priestesses comfort and teach the dying." Those fingers were going down her hip now. And she had thought this torture couldn't get any worse - he went down her leg instead of where she was aching to be touched, kneeling down like a worshipper at her altar. "You are the guardian of health. You comfort and give prosperity." "Mulder...I'll give you plenty..." It was threat, plea and promise. His fingers spread out over her leg, holding as he slid his palm down until his hand was resting on her foot. He looked up at her and then kissed the tip of her toe. He was grinning, but she could see this restraint was as torturous for him, and arousing. "You are the source-mother of all gods, offering fresh insight into the nature of our life. Your name means 'delight, pleasure, agility and melody'. You are the sparkle and vitality of the day itself. That's what you are to me, Dana." She undid the tie on her robe and parted it wide. He stood up and stepped closer to her. He slid his hands inside the robe and let them rest on her waist. He bent his head and kissed her again; it was slower this time, both of them wanting to savor this. "Now I'm going to kiss my way down..." he promised. He trailed his lips away from hers down to her jaw, over her chin to her neck. He licked and sucked. Her heard her moan deep in her throat. The noise reminded him this was real, it wasn't another of his wistful dreams. She was in his arms and he was kissing her and she was responding. It was hard for him to imagine that just a few hours ago he'd been sleeping on her couch, dreaming of her. Smelling the sweet perfume...of the moonflowers. The old woman's voice filled his head: "moonflowers are a symbol of a dream of love". But in his case it was a dream that finally came true. He stopped kissing her. She groaned in protest. "Shh...Dana, I...Do you know how long I've been dreaming of this?" Her lips were swollen from his kisses and she looked a bit drunk from them too. "Tell me," she said huskily. "I...well...a very long time, the better part of three years. Those flowers, the moonflowers, they symbolize a dream of love." She nodded. "When I fell asleep near them...their fragrance is so sweet, I...I dreamt of making love to you in a field of flowers." She started to turn her head but he stopped her with one of his hands. Their eyes met again. "It doesn't have to be a dream...it doesn't have to be a fantasy anymore, Dana." "You know, you're right Mulder." And she turned and walked out of the room. He stood there gaping for a second, then called after her, "Dana?" "I'll be right there." She reappeared in the doorway to the bedroom holding the three moonflower blooms. He grinned. "What are you up to?" he asked. "I've always wanted to do this..." She began peeling away the heart-shaped petals and dropping them onto the bed sheets. Mulder moved up behind her and took one of the blossoms so he could help. He inhaled the flower before plucking it, drawing the sweet smell into his lungs. When a shower of petals covered the bed, she turned back to him and he stepped closer. "Where were we?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Scully pointed to a spot on her neck. "You were trailblazing. Accent on the blaze..." "Right." Mulder moved forward, replacing his hands beneath her robe and started kissing her neck again. He slid his hands up over the swells of her breasts and then around to her shoulders, and pushed the robe off her shoulders to pool around her feet. "Lie down," he told her softly. Then they were kissing and rolling back and forth across the bed as they kept kissing and shedding his underwear. Mulder did not take the flowers out of Scully's hair, though he did stroke it occasionally. He wanted to see his Goddess with them still in this time. Their bodies crushed the petals below them, releasing more and more of the sweet aroma. In the far reaches of his mind, Mulder dimly thought about drawing the experience out, making it linger, but his need, and it seemed Scully's as well, was growing too fast for such a notion. The room quickly filled with a heady mixture of floral and sexual fragrance. They rolled again in their embrace and Scully broke free from his lips, reaching for the drawer, knowing it was time. They lay on their sides as she put the condom on him, then stroked his full length. "So," she said, impressed, "that's how much you want me, my God?" "Yes, Goddess. How much do you want me?" "Do you want words," she teased, turning to lay on her back, "or do you want the visual?" He sat up and watched as she parted her legs wide. He moved around between them to look, saw the wetness, how her body was shaking with hunger, her opening offered to him. His Goddess awaited. He kissed just below her navel, then moved up, rolling her onto her side. Mulder slid her leg up over his and slid himself between. "I need you now. I need...I need...oh God!" she cried as he speared hard and deep into her. One hand wrapped around her waist and buttock to pull her up to his thrust, the other traveled up her side and breast and neck to cradle her cheek. Scully opened her eyes, smiled at his face two inches from hers. At the mirrored pleasure there. He began to move again, and their fantasy - their certainty - lived. No longer some phantom longing in the depths of their subconscious. They shifted position again so that Dana was on her back. He used one arm to brace himself, but the other was everywhere - his free hand explored her back, her side, her breasts, framed her face, pulled her off the mattress, then his heavier frame pushed her down into it. He thrust his hard shaft in and out, knowing that she was ready, that her body was accepting his offering without discomfort, that this was how she wanted it, kissing her neck, her jaw, her cheeks and forehead, her lips, pulling back slightly to watch the effect the other part of him was having on her. Scully did not hold back any noise, wanting him to know how wonderful he was making her feel. She rocked back and forth, living for the next thrust, her arms and legs around his body, holding, possessing, touching the places she had dreamed of touching. That long back... All those times of staring down at him in a hospital bed. Of undressing him to check on injuries. Finally being able to be in bed with him, with him over her, unhurt, being able to touch him properly, shields down... She threw her arms backwards, off his shoulders, back to strike against the vertical poles in her headboard. Wrapping her hands around two, she anchored herself, arching up higher, throwing her head back. Her breasts then filled Mulder's vision and he grabbed with hand and mouth, still thrusting, feeling her buck even more wildly. They were on the edge. Throwing his arms forward, he grabbed hold of the poles too, and used them to pull himself forward, even deeper into her than before. Scully screamed and convulsed as her hands flew from the poles of the bed to grasp at Mulder's arms. She had to touch him again as she rode out the waves of her climax, burying her head in his shoulder. Just as her own shuddering began to quiet, she felt Mulder come, both of them moaning. Mulder cradled her head and back, rocking them as he moved up and down a few more times. He remained inside her as both of their bodies went slack from exhaustion. They lay there and held each other. "The Goddess is well pleased..." she managed to whisper eventually. "The God is pretty chuffed too..." He grinned. "'Chuffed'?" "Picked it up at Oxford." "I've never heard you use it before." "I've never had reason to before..." She laughed. "Only a Goddess can please a God. And if we're going to be all Oxford about it, then I must say that I'm shagged!" "Well shagged?" "Very well shagged. But don't worry. We Goddesses have remarkable powers of recuperation. And I'm good at prosperity and versatility..." "Well, this is one guy who'll keep bringing you flowers. Even if it's not an anniversary... But we're gonna have to train that dog of yours, or go to my place all the time..." Ten minutes later they were holding comfortably, dozing. "How am I going to get the crushed petals out of these sheets?" Scully mock-scolded him languidly. Mulder gave her the innocent look. "That was your idea." She moved against him thoughtfully. "Hmmm, something's in full bloom again..." He shrugged. "I'm a guy." "And I'm an insatiable Goddess. Time for the Fox to go roaming in the Paps of Anu again..." THE END.