TITLE: HOPELESS AUTHOR: DIANORA E-MAIL: dianora2@aol.com Rating: NC17 for sexual situations Category: S, R Archive: yes please Spoilers: This is pre-"Christmas Carol," mainly because I don't do Mommy Angst. (If you know me, that will not surprise you. ) Only spoilers are for "Redux II." Summary: Mulder loses control for a minute and Our Heroes have to deal with the aftermath. Disclaimer: If Mulder and Scully belonged to me instead of Chris Carter, my world would be a happier place. Unfortunately, I didn't make them up, so now I have to settle for this stuff instead. This is my first XF piece in quite some time; as such, it doesn't have too much substance. It does, however, have some steamy sex, so I hope that satisfies you. Comments, flames, praise, observations on the minutiae of every day life, offers to start a fan club all go to Dianora2@aol.com. (Hey, it can't hurt to mention it. :-D) Check out my website at members.aol.com/dianora2/main.htm On with the show... Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx "Hey." Mulder looked up from the magazine he wasn't reading and tried to smile at his partner. "Hey." She stepped closer to him, brushing imaginary lint off of her maroon suit jacket, fidgeting. Uncomfortable. "I missed you in the staff meeting this morning." Mulder shrugged. "Skinner'll get on me for it later. I just didn't feel like facing that crowd today." He winced internally, realizing just how lame he sounded. Scully nodded, obviously aware of his dissembling, but disinclined to pursue it. "So...what's the decision on that case in Texas we discussed yesterday?" She was carefully neutral, professional to a fault; he had to give her credit for that. "Oh, it, uh, fell through. False alarm." She raised an eyebrow. "Really." "Yeah. Turned out to be some kid's idea of a joke." That was the truth, at least. Dumb and embarrassing, but true. Mulder swallowed around the dry lump in his throat. Does she want to talk about it? I don't want to talk about it. She traced abstract patterns on his desktop, watching the movements of her finger instead of him. He tried not to notice, focused instead on the way the fluorescent lighting glinted off the red highlights in her hair. "Should we talk about it?" she asked softly. Dammit. He cleared his throat. "About what?" He could practically hear her silent response: About the fact that you kissed me yesterday, just a few feet from where I'm standing right now, until you freaked out and ran out of here without looking back? Aloud she said, "Forget it, Mulder." "Scully, I --" "I said forget it," she interrupted. Now she did look at him, with a steely glare that set his teeth on edge. "I have an autopsy to do as a favor for Skinner this afternoon. If you need me, you know where I am." She turned on her heel and left. She'd become a master of the dramatic exit these past few years. Damn. Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn. He closed the magazine in disgust and propped his feet up on the desk, reaching around for a pen to chew until he latched onto one. He popped it into his mouth and began chewing vigorously, hoping he didn't have an ink spill accident like last time - he was wearing a new shirt. Poor Scully. He knew he was being a coward, but couldn't seem to work up the nerve to act any differently. Kissing her yesterday had been a mistake, a =huge= mistake, and he'd been hoping he could leave it alone until it scabbed up and healed rather than re-opening the wound over and over by talking about it. Apparently Scully felt differently. He considered the possibility that his partner was a masochist, then snorted in disgust. The very fact that she was still working with him indicated that she was, so he supposed that was neither here nor there. He reluctantly thought back to the day before, summoning up the image of the two of them in this very office, discussing the case in Texas he'd just come across. It concerned alien abduction, so he knew right off that he was in for a battle. Expected it. In a perverse way, he kind of looked forward to it. It had begun as a standard difference of opinion, almost as if they were reading lines in a play, they knew them so well. But then he made a crack about her implant. In the past she'd laughed it off or parried with a cutting remark, but yesterday, she just started crying. Crying. It was the damndest thing. It took him so by surprise that he was speechless, then ashamed of himself. He went over to her, put his hands on her shoulders, said he was sorry. She looked up at him, eyes filled with tears, and he wanted to do something to make her feel better. Was sick and tired of =not= being able to make her feel better. So he kissed her. He'd had his share of fantasies about kissing his partner, obviously, had gone over it in his head a thousand times, but he hadn't counted on the undignified reality of his mouth clumsily pressing against hers, teeth clashing, tongue fumbling. Christ, had he really been that pathetic? The surprisingly visceral memory assured him that it had. Every time he closed his eyes he could feel the softness of her lips against his, her surprised intake of breath against his mouth. The way her body tensed beneath his hand, in what? Shock? Revulsion? He didn't stick around to find out. He'd had a total wig-out as soon as he'd realized what he was doing and ran out of there. She didn't even call after him. She'd probably been too busy wiping the drool off of her mouth. And now she wanted to talk about it? Couldn't they leave such mistakes untouched? Was she going to worry at it like a dog with a bone until he admitted what an idiot he was? He had a sinking feeling he knew the answer all too well. Not for the first time in his life, he half-heartedly wished that Scully had been a guy. He didn't see her again until late that night, when an insistent knocking at his door roused him from a state of half-sleep in front of the TV. "Can I come in?" Mulder looked down at his partner in sleepy puzzlement. "Um, yeah. What's up?" She stared at him, not answering, until he realized he was still blocking the doorway. "Sorry," he muttered, resisting an urge to scratch his balls in his usual wake-up ritual. "I was kinda sleeping." "I'm sorry to bother you this late," she said as he let her inside. "But I...well, I don't know. I don't know why I'm here, Mulder. I guess I just needed someone to talk to, and those kinds of people are in short supply these days." He turned the television off and took in her red-rimmed eyes and straggly hair. She was wearing sweatpants and a faded t-shirt. All in all, she looked like hell. A beautiful hell, but hell nonetheless. "Scully, what is it?" She sat down on the couch, stared straight ahead. "My aunt died early this evening." He rubbed the back of his neck, searching his addled brain for the appropriate response. "I'm sorry. Was she sick?" "Ovarian cancer. She'd been seriously ill for some time, it wasn't unexpected." She looked down at her hands. "I...I didn't even like her, actually. She was my mom's sister, and something of a...Bible- thumper, I guess you'd call her. Always preaching fire and brimstone. Not surprisingly, we didn't get along." Mulder had to smile. "Imagine that." He sat down next to her on the couch, gingerly, careful not to touch her. He could sense the tension coiled within her, and wanted her to have her distance. Didn't want to touch her anyway, after yesterday's debacle. "It's why I was such a...mess yesterday," she said, not meeting his eyes. "Mom flew down to Atlanta the night before to be with her, because they had a feeling the end was near. The news stirred up a lot of things for me. Things I've tried to avoid thinking about lately. "I feel guilty, Mulder," she continued after a strained pause. "I feel guilty for not being more upset about my aunt's passing. Guilty for not being with my mother right now -- I couldn't get a flight out until tomorrow. "But most of all, Mulder, I feel guilty for being alive." "I don't understand." She visibly struggled to put her thoughts into words. "It just doesn't seem fair, does it. By all rights I should be dead, just like all those other MUFON women. Instead, my aunt is. I know it doesn't make any sense, but...I almost feel like she died in my place." She shook herself abruptly, dismissing her musings. "I'm being stupid." "I don't think you're being stupid." She shot him a flustered look, and he quickly amended himself. "I mean, I don't think what you're saying makes much sense, but I don't think you're stupid, either." She didn't quite smile, but the corners of her mouth jerked a bit. "Thanks." "Besides, guilt is supposed to be my department, remember?" he said, trying to lighten things up. "Fox Mulder, Poster Boy for Guilt and Self-Loathing. You may be the Catholic one in this partnership, but I'm the dysfunctional one, after all." "Mulder, I -" "Never mind." He shook his head. How could he make her see? "I just don't want you feeling guilty for being alive. If you weren't..." He stopped and cleared his throat, embarrassed. His parents had always told him that some sentences were better left unfinished. Unfortunately, Scully wasn't having it. "What?" He stared at his bare feet, dimly noted his toenails needed clipping. It occurred to him that throughout his life, he'd discovered that what his parents had told him was usually wrong. "If you weren't alive, I probably wouldn't be either." It was a mumble, really, but of course she heard it. Her eyelids fluttered. "Mulder..." "Scully, I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it. It never happened." Oh yeah, that was convincing. Scully took a deep breath, opened her mouth, hesitated, then exhaled and continued. "Mulder, the cancer isn't gone, you know. It's in remission, but it's not =gone.= It's still...lurking there, in my body. I know we haven't addressed that fact -- haven't wanted to -- but...I need to know something. I need to know that if...if it does come back...that I can count on you to not hurt yourself. You may think I didn't notice your behavior over those months, but I did. You scared me, Mulder." He looked away from her. "I try not to make promises I can't keep." "Then I want you to promise me, right now, that I don't have to worry about you doing anything stupid. Well, no more so than usual." The joke fell flat. "It's a little late for that, isn't it?" he asked bitterly. "What do you mean?" "You know what I mean, Scully. What happened yesterday, at the office." She looked away from him, down at her laced fingers again. "So =now= you want to talk about it?" He gulped. "No," he said honestly. She let out a low chuckle. "I'll say one thing for you, Mulder. You certainly can be predictable." He nodded in agreement. There was a long silence. "So now what?" he asked finally. She turned her head to face him, her eyes piercing his like ice picks. "I don't know, Mulder. I wish I did. I'm...I'm sick of living like this." "Like what?" he asked, not really wanting to know. She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. When she did speak, her voice was weary. "Like I'm in slow motion. Like no matter how hard I try to move forward, I still wind up stuck in the same spot. It's tiring, Mulder. Aren't you tired?" He smiled self-consciously. "I'm exhausted." Their eyes met and she smiled back. His heart leapt in his chest, and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. "Then why don't we stop running?" she whispered. She tentatively reached out and put her hand over his. Her touch was like fire, and he could tell that she felt it too. They both looked down at their hands as if they had committed some atrocity. Perhaps they had? Too soon to tell. His head rose first, his face studying hers until her eyes lifted as well. She looked at him, then away, then back again. Her gaze was steady. Unflinching. Unapologetic. Beseeching, and proud at the same time. I'm going to kiss her again, he realized. I'm going to be a moron and kiss her again and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Continued in part 2. "Hopeless" by Dianora 2/2 I'm going to kiss her again, he realized. I'm going to be a moron and kiss her again and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Slowly, so slowly, he began to move his head toward hers, giving her time to back away, to end it now. Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened and closed, but otherwise she didn't move. His lips brushed hers softly, then lifted. He waited, with their mouths mere millimeters apart, until she moved in for the next kiss, her lips barely touching his before pulling away. He leaned in again, and the kiss lasted just a fraction of a second longer this time. They continued like that for a while, indulging in the barest of kisses, their lips coming together and drifting apart again and a gain, softly, quickly, as if afraid to linger for too long. Their dueling mouths was the only contact between them. Finally, with a trembling hand, Mulder reached up to bury his fingers in her hair, and the gesture was like a dam breaking. His mouth covered hers completely and she opened beneath him, taking his tongue into her mouth, kissing fully and deeply and with increasing passion until he was clasping her head in his hands. He felt her fingers brush his waist, then her hands settle there hesitantly. They were kissing and kissing and kissing and finally Mulder pulled away, gulping in air, trying to get his brain to start working again. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes danced. Her chest rose and fell beneath her sweater and Mulder suddenly realized that if he didn't touch her breasts he was going to go mad. "Scully," he whispered, willing her to say something, do something. He didn't release her hair, felt that if he let her go now he'd never have her again. She lifted one hand to touch the side of his face. Her fingers were cool against his cheek. "Scared?" she asked simply. He couldn't help but let out a short laugh at that, delighted when she returned the smile. "What do you think?" he replied. Her smile widened and her eyes looked back down at his mouth. They leaned in again until their lips touched, hesitant once more, worried that they had broken the spell. They hadn't. Her lips were soft and warm and welcoming and her arms slipped more firmly around his waist, her fingers splayed across his lower back. He wrapped his arms more firmly around her, pulling her close, and she didn't resist. The kiss went on for what seemed like forever, until Mulder worked up the nerve to move his lips from hers, to instead nuzzle at her neck, breathing in the perfumed scent of her, tasting the skin at the base of her ear. A low protesting sound escaped from her throat, and he pulled back. "What is it?" he croaked, still holding her tight. She shook her head. "I don't know. It's...it's just too much, Mulder. I can't..." Her voice broke and her eyes sparkled with nascent tears. His heart stopped. "Do you want to leave?" Eternity stretched in the silence. Finally: "No," she whispered. "I want to stay here tonight, if you'll let me." Relief flooded through him in a warm rush and he searched her eyes to make sure she was saying what he thought she was saying. At her answering look of reassurance, he covered her mouth with his again, this time more urgently, putting all of his need and desire into it. He brought one hand up to the swell of her breast, brushed it with his fingers before reaching up to cup it firmly. She moaned softly and leaned into him, encouraging the contact. His head was swimming through murky waters and his skin was aflame and all he could do about it was to keep kissing her and hope it wouldn't end, ever. He began to caress her breast in slow circles as she tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair at the base of his neck. The tenderness in the gesture set him reeling and made him feel bold enough to slip under her t--shirt, touching her breast gingerly through her bra. He rubbed his thumb over the hardened nipple he felt there, and she moaned again. She pulled back a little and his heart stopped, then started up again when he realized she was just taking off her shirt. She slipped it over her head and threw it aside, then allowed him to push aside one strap of the ivory satin bra and kiss her shoulder. When he reached behind to undo the clasp he heard her breathe in sharply, but she didn't protest. He pulled the undergarment off of her slowly, then leaned back to look at her. Her breasts were round, the nipples pale and pebbled against the air. He touched them reverently, tracing them with his fingers. She watched him silently, then surprised him by entwining her arms around his neck and pulling him down with her so that he was lying on top of her on the couch. He showered kisses over her lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, before finally moving lower and taking one nipple into his mouth. Another wordless moan escaped her as he suckled there, nibbling and sucking as she arched up against him and clasped his head in her hands. He moved from one breast to the other, taking his time, enjoying the way she rhythmically smoothed his hair with her slender fingers. Her pelvis began moving in time with her breathing, up and down against him until he had to stop what he was doing, afraid he would lose control. He grabbed at the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, then sank down against her once more. He reveled in the delicious sensation of skin against skin, her smooth arms against his, her hardened nipples grazing the hair on his chest. They kissed again, leisurely, as if time was standing still for them, lips and tongue meeting and parting, their movements as synchronized like they had been kissing each other forever. At that moment he couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been. Mulder wasn't sure how much more he could take. The very thought of Scully being the woman beneath him had been enough to send him over the edge in his fantasy life -- the reality was almost overwhelming. He began to tug urgently at her sweatpants, undoing the drawstring with clumsy fingers, then dragging them down the length of her shapely legs. He did the same with her panties so that she was naked on the couch, squirming against the chill in the air, reaching for him. Instead he stood up to slip his boxers off. She scootched up on the couch so that she was sitting before him, watching him, boldly drinking in the sight of him. Mulder didn't mind -- size was one of the few things he never had insecurities about. But she looked so damn good sitting there that he couldn't help himself. He knelt before her and spread her thighs and over her strangled protest placed his head between her legs. She let out a loud, high-pitched sigh when his tongue made contact with her flesh. He fought back a smile and explored the delicate folds there, tracing his tongue around every curve, flickering in and out of her, occasionally taking the hardened nub into his mouth and sucking strongly. She hooked her legs over his shoulders and moaned a sound of ecstasy that he never thought he'd hear from her mouth. He opened his eyes and peered up at her. She had both of her hands tangled in her hair, her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back, her mouth slightly parted. Her full breasts heaved with every intake of breath. It was quite possibly the most stunning sight he'd ever seen. It only encouraged him to increase the intensity of what he was doing. He nibbled and tasted and sucked until her hips were rising and falling in tune with him and her moans increased in frequency and volume. Finally she tensed and then exploded, convulsing against him, gasping and groaning wordlessly. He didn't stop teasing her until she subsided. He planted one final kiss and then raised his head and rose up to kiss her on the mouth. She returned the kiss fully, even as her body continued to periodically twitch beneath him. When their lips parted she smiled up at him. "Nice." She sounded downright giddy; it blew him away. "Your turn." He opened his mouth to tell her it wasn't necessary, but she cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Stand up," she said quietly. He obeyed - how could he not? -- and stood before her, then bit his lip when Scully sat up on the couch and took his cock in her mouth. His knees buckled, but he refused to give into them. He locked them into place and buried his fingers in her hair, watching the red head bob up and down as she enveloped him. And her mouth - god. Her mouth was hot and wet and exerting just the right amount of pressure, sliding up and down on him, her tongue scraping the underside of him with deftness. He didn't want to think about how she was so good at it, he just accepted it and went along for the roller coaster ride. His cock throbbed and twitched until he was =really= too close to the edge, and he whispered hoarsely for her to stop, even though it was arguably the toughest thing he'd ever done. She complied immediately, removing her mouth and looking up at him. The air of the room was cold against his wet cock and he found the sensation oddly erotic. Not surprising, he supposed, since every nerve ending felt turned up, attuned to nothing but Her presence, the sight, feel, smell, taste of Her. He pulled her up and close and kissed her for a long time, treasuring her tiny body against his, before backing her up toward the couch. She fell down onto it and took him with her, his body covering hers again, skin against skin. Mulder took Scully's hands in his and raised her arms above her head, bringing himself down on top of her more firmly. His eyes bore into hers, offering one last chance to end it, but she raised her head up to kiss him in answer. He entered her slowly, carefully, nearly stopping when she bit her lip and let out a yelp. Even though she was wet and ready for him, she was nonetheless so tight that he was terrified of hurting her, but she urged him on breathlessly until he was deep inside. It had evidently been a while for her. Once he was in he stopped for a moment, just looking at her. She returned his gaze with a look of happiness and anticipation. "Mulder, I'm fine," she whispered with a self-aware grin. He laughed and began to move slowly within her, in and out, taking his time with sure, measured thrusts, concentrating, wanting this to be as good for her as it already was for him. Her fingers tightened around his as her hips rose and fell to meet his thrusts, the two of them moving together in harmony, their partnership instincts, as always, taking over. He looked down at her and her eyes locked onto his. The intensity was almost unnerving. There is something about staring into another's eyes during sex, a baring of the soul that surpasses anything else. Mulder was afraid to go there, but he went anyway, trying to convey with his eyes what his body was already telling her. Never being ones for needless conversation, they made love relatively quietly, communicating with their bodies rather than words. Inevitably the rhythm increased, faster and faster until Mulder knew it was just a matter of seconds before he plunged over the edge into oblivion. "Scully..." he croaked. "Almost, Mulder," she told him, her head suddenly jerking back in a rictus of ecstasy. "God...almost..." And then it was happening again, her convulsing beneath him, and her muscles clamped around his cock until he spilled over himself, body beyond his control, gushing into her as she milked him dry. "Scull...Sc..." he gasped, unable to even form the word. She whispered his name over and over and over in an orgasm-induced mantra. He eased down on top of her, spent, his mouth hanging open as he tried to recover. Her chest heaved beneath him as she took in deep, ragged breaths. He closed his hand over her breast and tried to get his voice to work, then realized he had no idea what to say. Scully, as always, saved him. "If this is a dream, don't wake me, okay?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He shifted on the couch so that they were almost side by side, then placed his hand on her hip, tracing the curve of it. "You got a deal." He kissed her on her temple, ear, neck. She smelled of perfume and sweat. She reached up to smooth his hair tenderly, then ran her hand down his chest, slowly, thoroughly, as if committing the feel of it to memory. He watched her, feeling strangely turned on by the possessive quality of her wanderings. "Do I pass inspection, Dr. Scully?" he asked. "Clean bill of health," she said glibly. He kissed her then, deeply, his arms tightening around her as her body responded to his once more, arching against him, warm, ready. When they finally parted, he whispered into her mouth. "Now what?" There was a silence that went on for almost too long, until she let out a sigh tinged with uncertainty. "I don't know, Mulder," she said. "I wish I did. Do we have to decide right now? Can't we just have tonight? If that's not enough --" He cut her off with another kiss, not wanting her to finish the sentence. "It's okay," he said when they came up for air. "Tonight is good. Tonight is more than I ever hoped for," he said with unusual candor. "It may have to..." She trailed off. He knew what lay at the end of her unfinished sentence; knew she didn't want to complete the thought as much as he didn't want to hear it. So instead, he kissed her, again. Kissed her and let his body do the talking, and hoped that it wouldn't be for the last time. End.