Breaking the Iron Curtain, Part 1 By Nikki Le Fevre dilefu@jetlink.net Archive and Post to ATXC Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Walter Skinner are property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, Twentieth Century Fox, and anyone else who claims legal right to them. No copyright infringement was intended. Summary: In this story, Scully and Mulder receive a little help breaking down the barriers from a friend they didn1t know they had, which means, yes, they do have sex in this story. Spoilers: Slight spoilers from 'Tempus Fugit' and/or 'Max'. (U.S. Season 4) Classification: MSR Rating: NC-17 (the first part is all right, it's the second part that's naughty), so if you choose to ignore this, no flames! I do however, accept constructive criticism, which can be directed to dilefu@jetlink.net Thank you! -----Breaking the Iron Curtain [1/1]----- By Nikki Le Fevre, 1997 The little old Russian lady sat sedately on her couch. With mounting anticipation she watched a rusty old mantle clock move toward the desired time, its tired second hand making struggling attempts to tick. She realized that everything in her old apartment was having a hard time staying conversant: from the battered old coffee table ringed with stains and layered in dust, to the tattered draperies which bore the wear and tear of her many cats1 claws. She eyed the old furniture in her tiny Virginia apartment with contempt as she still continued to wait. Her eyes moved around their living room, glancing off various things before coming to rest on two mysterious packages sitting on the coffee table. She sighed. If there was anything she hated more than her apartment, it was when people were tardy. She shifted her position on the couch, her stiff, aged bones complaining within her pudgy frame. *Here I am, wasting valuable time waiting,* she thought. *"Seven forty-five," I told him. "Be here at seven forty-five." But now? Now it's nearly eight o'clock, and he still has not shown.* *Natya,* she asked herself, *Why do you do this to yourself? Why? You are not getting any younger!* But suddenly it occurred to her, and her wrinkled old brow creased with sadness. *My darling boy,* she thought sadly, *My darling, darling boy...* Suddenly, the buzzer rang next to the front door, jolting Natya out of her reverie. "About time," she mumbled, bracing her palms on her knees, and raising herself to a standing position. Smoothing the creases in her plain, brown dress, she hobbled over to the front door, and pressed her ear to it. "Who is it?" she asked, knowing full well who it was. It was rare that anyone came to visit her anymore, not since her son had died. "It's me," came a muffled voice from behind the door. "Please let me in." Natya unlatched the thick chain and clicked free the deadbolt before turning the brass knob and opening the heavy oak door. The single, bare yellow bulb in the hallway illuminated a tall man dressed in a long, black trench coat. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and the light cast a jaundiced tinge over his sallow cheeks. With a deft motion he removed a black wallet from his pocket and flipped it open, brandishing an F.B.I. identification card. "I'm Special Agent Van Dreisen. We spoke on the phone." Natya clasped her hands together and pressed them to her heart. "Yes, yes of course. Please, come in." She stepped aside to allow Van Dreisen entry. Pushing the door closed behind him, she turned and shook a withered index finger at him. "I thought you weren't going to come," she scolded. "Fifteen minutes late! An F.B.I. man should know better!" "I apologize," the man said, nodding his head in acknowledgement. "I had a staff meeting that ran late." Natya shook her head. "Well, no matter. You are here aren't you?" She shuffled over to the coffee table where the two plain, brown paper-wrapped packages rested. Picking one up in each hand she turned to the man and asked, ONow, Mr. Van Dreisen, you know what to do, correct?" "Yes ma'am. Leave one package on each desk of the two agents. But why? What does this have to do--" "Never you mind," Natya interrupted, cutting him off. "Since you were a friend of my dear boy, I asked you to do this for me. His one wish for that pretty young woman friend of his was for her to be happy, and I know this will do the trick." "But Mrs. Pendrell--" "It's Pendrelov. My son changed his name." She handed Van Dreisen the packages. He noticed that they were rather light, and looked a little like wrapped potatoes. "Mrs. Pendrelov, what are these things going to do?" "If they do what I think they are going to do, then you had better shut the shades of their office before you leave." Natya giggled. The man frowned a little, raising an eyebrow at the old woman. He shook his head. Walking towards the door, suddenly, he turned. "I'm sorry about your son, Mrs. Pendrelov." The wrinkles around the edges of Natya's smiling eyes relaxed a little as she saddened at the remembrance of her son. "So tragic it was," she said with a sigh, "Taking a bullet for that young woman. I know he cared for her very much. He only wanted her happiness." She stood quietly for a moment, then shook herself. "Well, you should get going." She pushed at Van Dreisen, shooing him out the door. "Good luck, young man." "Thanks," he said, as Natya shut the door. J. Edgar Hoover F.B.I. Building Washington D.C. 8:47 A.M. Wilbur Van Dreisen made his way down the staircase, into the bowels of the F.B.I. building. He knew that the two agents were not to return until ten that morning, having finished up an out-of-town case. *Man,* he thought to himself as he descended further, *They've really got ol' Spooky buried down here.* He approached the lone door to the left of the stairs, shifting the two packages to one hand in order to fish in his pocket for the key he had so deftly purchased from a maintenance man. Pulling it out, he inserted it into the lock, and the door opened with a click. He flipped a light switch next to the door, illuminating Fox Mulder and Dana Scully's basement office. Looking around, a lopsided grin found its way onto his face as he saw the paraphernalia decorating the walls. Posters, pictures, and newspaper articles of the occult adorned the walls in various spots, and there were piles of papers all around. *Wow, what a nut case. The things I do for Pendrell.* Walking over to a messy desk, Van Dreisen pushed aside a file to uncover a nameplate: "Fox Mulder". He glanced at the package in his hand before setting it atop a stack of papers. He then made his way into a smaller, walled-off room at the back of the office and, finding no desk, he put the second package down on a drawing board next to a stool. Van Dreisen then walked back over to the door, took one last glance around the office, and shook his head before flipping the lights off and shutting the office door. J. Edgar Hoover F.B.I. Building Monday, 10:31 A.M. "Mulder, I don't know why you continue to allow yourself to be coerced into accepting these ridiculous cases," Agent Dana Scully chided her partner. "I mean come on, crop circles? I know you had something better to look into than that." Agent Fox Mulder walked quietly alongside his longtime partner, letting her blow off some steam. It was normal for her to be a little ticked at him when cases went awry, which often, they did. As they approached the stairs which led to their basement office, he finally spoke: OIt's not my fault they turned out to be fake. After all, that guy had a legitimate reason to be angry with his boss." Mulder was speaking in reference to a disgruntled farm hand, who lived on his boss's farm in Montana. The owner had requested help after discovering that his new crops had been defiled with what appeared to be a classic case of crop circles. Of course Mulder had jumped a the idea -- things being a little slow at the office -- to immediately fly out, dragging Scully along for the ride. Almost instantly after their arrival, however, they discovered that the crop circle culprit was none other than the owner's farm hand, who was angry over some unpaid salary. The crop circles, much to Scully's amusement and Mulder's dismay, when later inspected by helicopter, turned out to be rather sexual in nature. Mulder continued to lamely defend his point of view to his partner, until they had reached the door to his office. "I'm sorry, Mulder, but I think we are just going to have to agree to disagree on the validity of this assignment," Scully stated, coming to a halt. "I think you're right," he replied, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Upon pressing the key to the lock however, the door, not shut properly, opened on its own. They looked at each other, needing no words. They both instantaneously drew their weapons. It was Mulder who spoke next: "I'll go inside first. You get the lights." Scully nodded, her blue eyes wide with anticipation. Mulder nudged the door open and stepped inside, while Scully simultaneously flipped the light switch. The room was illuminated, and Mulder swung his pistol to the left, and then to the right. Not discovering anything, he moved to Scully's area in the back. He glanced around for a second, then walked back over into Scully's view. Tucking his gun back into its holster he shrugged his shoulders and said: "No one here." Scully let out a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. She too put her gun away and walked to her area at the back of the office. "The maintenance man probably forgot to shut the door." She moved to a small coffee-maker that Mulder had purchased a little while ago. Luckily, the early morning maintenance had turned it on. She grabbed a mug, and filled it to the brim with the steaming hot liquid. "Mulder, sometimes I swear I'm almost as paranoid as you," she said, sitting on her stool at her drawing board. He smiled, and plopped down at his desk. "I must be rubbing off on you." She looked over at him, raised an eyebrow, and gave him the half-grin she usually did when choosing to ignore one of his little quips. Sometimes it was tough keeping her flawless professional persona around that man, especially since she knew that she... *Knew that what, Dana?* she asked herself. *Knew that you love him?* She jolted a little at this thought, of how suddenly it had popped into her head. She sighed. Of course it was true. It had been for some time. Hadn't it always been there? Underlying every trusting glance, every touch, every gentle guiding hand that escorted her through a doorway? There was always a secret, deep-running bond that they subconsciously maintained between each other. The question now was of how long she could go on like this, pretending she just wanted to be friends. Scully glanced at Mulder once more, who was already immersed in his work. *I wonder if he knows how I feel?* She shook her head and smiled, returning to her work as she had so many times before. *Of course he knows.* -------------- Continued in Part 2. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I originally intended this story to be one whole piece, so for those of you who were wondering about the (1/1) in the previous post, I just forgot to change it. Breaking the Iron Curtain, Part 2 By Nikki Le Fevre Archive and Post to ATXC Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Walter Skinner are property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions, Twentieth Century Fox, and anyone else who claims legal right to them. No copyright infringement was intended. Summary: In this story, Scully and Mulder receive a little help breaking down the barriers from a friend they didn't know they had, which means, yes, they do have sex in this story. Spoilers: Slight spoilers from 'Tempus Fugit' and/or 'Max' (U.S. Season 4). Classification: MSR Rating: NC-17 warning (the first part is all right, it's this second part that's naughty), so if you choose to ignore this, no flames! I do however, accept constructive criticism, which can be directed to dilefu@jetlink.net Thank you! Violence: 0 -----Breaking the Iron Curtain, [2/2]-- THIS is the NC-17 stuff ----- By Nikki Le Fevre, 1997 Mulder grinned to himself, proud of having received the trademark, "Mulder, you're a smartass" look of Scully's. Hell, it was almost as notorious as her, "Mulder, go fuck yourself" look. It was those little facial quirks of hers that made her so endearing to him. He looked over at her. She was perched on her stool, rifling through some papers, a stubborn lock of her auburn bob hanging right in her eyes. He cared for her so much, so much more than he could ever let on to her, let alone to himself. He was so incredibly in love with her, a fact he had only allowed himself to admit rather recently. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he leaned back in his chair. *I wonder if she cares too?* ----------------------- She picked up the mug of too-hot coffee and took a sip. It was then that Scully raised her eyes and noticed a small, potato-like package perched atop her drawing board. *Funny, that wasn't here on Friday.* She picked it up. It was rather light and wrapped in brown paper. Scrawled across it in red marker were the words: "For Scully." She cocked her head to one side, turning the lump over in her hands. *It must be from Mulder.* But that was odd. Her birthday was three months ago, and Christmas wasn't for another seven. She took another look at Mulder, her brow furrowing in puzzlement, before deftly slipping an index finger under a taped portion of the paper and tearing it open. She tossed the paper aside, and turned the item over in her hands. It was made out of brightly painted balsa wood, and was, what Scully recognized to be, a Russian Babushka doll. It was the type of doll that, when one opens it, reveals a doll of a smaller size, successively, until the last doll is reached. She ran her fingers over its smooth, shiny surface, admiring the beautiful detail with which it was painted. It was definitely one of the weirder gifts Mulder had given her, but was certainly quite unique. She could not help wondering what the occasion was as she popped it open to admire the inner dolls. But instead of finding more dolls within, it was empty, save for a peculiar herbal substance coating the bottom. She poked her finger into it, pulling out a little of the mixture and rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It looked like potpourri. Wondering just what it was, she raised the base to her nose, and gave it a sniff. The feeling that hit her next was one that could only be described as pure sexual ecstasy. She gasped in surprise and pleasure, nearly dropping the little doll. It felt as if the blood went rushing from her head through her body, to tingle at her extremities. A warm, delicious, molten lava-like feeling coiled from her breasts through her stomach, and flowered at her genitals. Her medical mind, however, through the thick sexual fog, continued to work. *Pheromones!* it told her, from a faraway corner. It had never been medically proven, but in concentration, human pheromones, a substance generated in the body that creates sexual attraction, are supposed to work as an aphrodisiac, or human catnip, making one attracted to the opposite sex. *Opposite sex...* she thought, drowsily. She bit her lower lip tenaciously and looked over at Mulder, who was just beginning to open a similar package. *Speaking of sex...* *No!* That rational voice yelled at her again from far away. *Don't! He's your partner!* A goofy smile spread across Scully's face. "Yes, he sure is. And what a delectable, scrumptious hunk of partner at that," she mumbled out loud. Silencing what little conscience she had left, she stood, and took another sniff of the glorious herbal mixture at the base of the doll. This time she swooned a little, as yet another, stronger wave of erotic pleasure smacked into her, and she had to grab onto the stool for support. Scully stumbled almost drunkenly over to the little doorway which partitioned the office, and leaned against it. Mulder, she could see, had opened his doll, and from the look of the huge bulge in his slacks, had already smelled it too. Her eyes drifted shut and unintelligible pictures flashed through her mind: two bodies twisted together in the heat of passion, so lost in each other that one could not tell where one body ended and another began. The faces of those two people became clear; it was she and Mulder. Her eyes flew open and fixed on the obviously extremely aroused man sitting a few feet away. Mulder saw her out of the corner of his eye and his head snapped to attention. She was holding the base of that silly doll at an angle, barely, and a few grains of the odd mixture were drifting to the carpet. He shifted his gaze to glance over her feminine form leaning in the doorway. Her behind was propping her up against the doorjamb as her heels fought to stay firmly embedded in the carpet. Her fiery red hair was slightly tousled. Her cherry lips were moist and slightly parted, and her breath came in rapid gasps. And her liquid sapphire eyes, which burned like two blue flames, were locked directly with his. He glanced at the bottom half of his own doll laying on his desk. *What the hell is this stuff?* he wondered muzzily. Scully pushed herself off of the doorjamb, and sauntered over to his desk. Thrusting out her arm, she waved the bottom of the doll under Mulder's nose. She swallowed thickly, but her voice still came out as a croak: "Mulder, is this from--" "No," he cut her off, panting and pushing her hand out from under his nose, "It's not. Did you--" "No, I thought it was from you." She shook her head, a little too hard, making it swim dizzily. "Well if I didn't, and you didn't, then who did?" A coy, devilish smirk appeared on Mulder's face. He sunk a little lower in his chair, shoving his legs out, one on each side of Scully. His half-lidded eyes roved up her body, finally meeting her face. "I don't know," he finally said, "But who cares? This stuff is great!" "Mulder, I don't think--" "Then don't think. Here," he said, abruptly sitting up and pushing her own hand under her nose, "Just sniff." She couldn't help it, and sniffed. Mulder caught the bottom of the doll just as Scully's palms went out to brace herself on his desk. A little cry escaped her lips as her head dropped forward. She took a couple of deep breaths. *Ah, what the hell,* her wild side piped up, *You want him, don't you?* Her head snapped up, and her lips bore the same silly grin as Mulder's. "You're absolutely right," she breathed, "This stuff IS great!" Scully stood up fully, and moved so that her knees pressed right up against his in the chair. She looked down at him, and Mulder saw a pure desire burning in her eyes that had never been there before. He pushed himself out of his chair, sending it rolling back. Standing directly in front of her, he looked down at her beautiful face. Their bodies were barely touching; the sexual electricity that pulsed between them was almost tangible. The heat that radiated from each other's body washed over them in waves, and their breath came in rapid gulps. "So," Mulder said, breaking the heavy silence, "What do you wanna do?" Scully's arms came out from her sides to grip Mulder's hips and draw them against her own, causing him to moan. She molded onto him fully, fitting the curve of her supple hip to his hard length. "Quit screwing around Mulder, I know what you want." He responded by curling his arms around her waist to massage her buttocks with his palms. "Oh you do?" She moistened her lips with an aching tounge. "Mmm-hmm," she said, narrowing her eyes, "Kiss me." Needing no more encouragement, he raised his hands to clasp her jaw firmly in his palms before bending his head low to meld his mouth upon hers. The sensation was shocking for both of them, and Mulder carried it further by filling her mouth with his tounge. He needed her to know how much he wanted her, how much she turned him on, and he conveyed this to her by the rapid movements of his mouth upon hers. The feel of his tounge exploring her mouth was driving Scully wild. She responded immediately, taking a firmer hold of his waist and raising one of her legs to curve possessively around the backs of his thighs. She didn't care about the consequences, about the implications of what they were doing might have, all she wanted was to have this man, the man she craved, right then. Mulder turned them slightly, never removing his mouth from hers, and with one grand sweep of his arm, cleared his desk of all its items. Files, papers, and pencils went flying everywhere, creating a fine carpet around the office. Still kissing her deeply he took one of her hips in each hand and lifted her swiftly, plunking her down on the now-bare desk. Scully abruptly broke off the kiss, leaving them gasping for air. She raised her skirt a little and spread her legs wide, and Mulder took the initiative to press himself tightly against her. She could feel him throbbing through the thin material of his slacks and the even thinner silk of her panties. The only intelligible sound she could make was a growl, which educed from deep within her. Her hands sought out his wavy brown hair and found it, and her fingers raked through it over and over. The sensation of his body finally against hers was almost a sensory overload for Scully, and she needed the ultimate fulfillment. Mulder's head spun as he reached for her tailored suit coat, skillfully unbuttoned it, slid it off her shoulders, and cast it aside. The thin silk of her fitted blouse barely concealed her breasts. Even through the bra, he could see her nipples straining against their confinement. Presented with the task of still more buttons, Mulder tired quickly and gave up, ripping the delicate silk wide open with a yank. Buttons careened everywhere. Scully raised her eyebrows and nodded her head a little. "Impressive," she said, unknotting his tie and casting it aside. OBut turn-about's fair play." She grabbed his impeccable white shirt in his hands and tore it open, sending yet another torrent of buttons flying through the office. "There," she grabbed his head and brought it close to hers, "Now we're even." She pushed her mouth against his once again, presenting a challenge as she dueled hotly with his tounge. Mulder couldn't take much more. She was so beautiful and turned him on so much that he was surely going to embarrass himself if he didn't speed things up. He grabbed the material on either side of Scully's hips and hoisted, effectively raising her skirt to her waist. Scully kicked off her heels as Mulder pulled off her pantyhose and cast them aside. The sight of her delicate femininity filling the white silk of her panties hypnotized him, and he gently slid them down off her hips and legs and tossed them atop the growing pile of clothes. Scully didn't even bother to remove her blouse as she unclasped the front of her bra. She modestly pulled it away from her breasts just as Mulder found her hot center, and he gently touched her with a tentative hand. She cooed his name softly: "Mulder." She reached out and caressed him through his slacks. He moaned. "Scully, I need you so badly. Weird dolls or not, I've wanted you for so long. Too long." "I know. Me too." She grabbed his unoccupied hand and raised it to cup her breast. Sucking in air sharply through her teeth as he found her nipple with capable fingers, she whispered: "I don't care what happens with this. With anything. I love you." "I love you too," he replied, lowering his head to taste of her flesh for the first time. Scully cried out as Mulder laved his tounge over one breast, then the other, paying meticulous attention to her nipples. Her head tilted back as torrents of pleasure washed over her body. She didn't know if it was from the herbs, and frankly, she didn't care. All she wanted was to feel him inside her. "Mulder, make love to me." He raised his head from her breasts to meet her eyes before unbuckling his pants and letting them drop to his ankles. His erection was so hard it was difficult to remove his boxers. Somehow he managed, and those were dropped as well. Scully spread her legs wide, to better facilitate his entry. He clasped one of her thighs in each hand and caressed the backs, running his hands up to her behind and down. He touched the tip of himself to her. "Scully, are you sure?" "For God's sake, Mulder," she said, grabbing his member, "Don't stop now." She gently tugged him, and with one long thrust he entered her. They gasped together as Mulder withdrew slightly, then eased himself back in, repeating the delectable flow over and over. Scully groaned as he drove himself deep, as deep as she could allow. Somehow, their mouths found each other once more and they kissed passionately, tongues entwining, mimicking the action of their lower halves. Scully's hands found their way under Mulder's tattered shirt and ran over his back, her nails gently raking his skin. In response Mulder lowered his mouth to the curve of her neck, sucking and nibbling on the highly sensitized flesh. His eyes shut as his brain whirled with a muddle of hedonistic thoughts. He couldn't believe this was happening. It was like a wild fantasy of his being played out: taking his beautiful partner right on his desk, the possibility of someone walking in on them making it twice as erotic. But Lord knows Mulder wouldn't have been able to stop if Cancerman himself walked in. His movements became swifter within her, and Scully thrust her hips in time with his. A voice shouted in her head to the mysterious doll-giver as Mulder found her earlobe and nibbled at it: *Are you happy, whoever you are? We're doing just what you wanted. Was this your intent?* She could feel that conflagrant feeling begin its descent from her belly to her thighs, and a thin film of perspiration broke out over both their writhing bodies. She whispered into his ear: "Almost there, Mulder." And then it it her: a moment of nothingness just before an orgasm so hard and fierce that it ripped through her body and made her slam her fists into the desk to keep from screaming. Her head arched back against the waves of ecstasy and it took all of her self control to only let a lip-bitten, convulsive cry escape her lips. Mulder felt her go limp, then rigid in his arms as her internal muscles rippled against him. The look of her beautiful face highlighted by their act of love shattered the last fraction of his resolve and he came suddenly, burying his face into her shoulder to stifle a thrill-drenched yell. Scully's arms, which had been somewhat of a help in propping her up, gave way, and she collapsed against the desk, with Mulder falling atop her. She wrapped an arm around his neck as they lay in a quite precarious position, the sound of their heavy breathing the only thing breaking the silence in the now-much-too-hot office. A smile spread across Scully's face as she focused her blurry gaze on her partner's. "Mulder," she said, touching the tip of his nose with her finger, "That is, by far, the best sex I have ever had in my life." "Yeah," he responded, pulling her up and settling his arms around her waist. "And you know what made it even better?" Their bodies still joined, Scully locked her ankles behind his hips. "What?" "The fact that I am completely in love with you." "Oh," she toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, "So it wasn't just that herbal stuff talking?" "Nope." "Good," Scully said, "Cause I feel the same way." Her face became thoughtful. "Where in the hell did those dolls come from, anyway?" Mulder brought his face close to hers. "Who knows? All I care about is that they helped us ... get together." With that, he kissed her, long and deep. She returned his kiss until she felt him stirring inside her. She pulled away. "Oh, no, not again." At Mulder's disappointed look, she elaborated: "You know what I mean. Not here, anyway. How about we ditch this place and take an early lunch? We have a lot to talk about." "Talk? Who wants to talk? Talk is highly overrated, you know." Scully pinched his behind, hard. "Okay, okay," he relented, "But only if you promise me a little dessert after lunch." She pushed him away, adjusting her skirt and hooking her bra. "I think I can arrange that." They gathered up and donned the remains of their clothes. Thank goodness for protocol F.B.I. trench coats. Mulder suggested they save the little dolls, so Scully set them up on a shelf, as a reminder of a truly otherworldly experience. They left the office. Scully turned off the lights, and Mulder escorted her out as he always did: with a hand at the small of her back. ---------------------- Natya Pendrelov sat confidently in her tiny apartment, contentedly watching the images flicker across her old black and white T.V. set. Convinced that she had fulfilled her son's only wish, she sighed as she felt that his spirit was finally laid to rest. END ---------------------- 1997, Nikki Le Fevre. Not much of a plot, I know!;-) For Rosie Passanissi and Sarah Stegall: may our heroes give in to their desires! Please send a comment to dilefu@jetlink.net, and put "to Nikki" in the subj. line. No flames, please. Thanx!