Title: Mind Candy
Author: B. Dipherowa
E-mail: redux_2@yahoo.com
Completed: October 1998
Distribution: Gossamer - yes. Everyone else - please ask first.
Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox. All candy mentioned belongs to
either Mars, Inc., Hershey Foods Corporation, Tootsie Roll Industries
or Nestle'. No money is being made here and no infringement is intended.
Classification: V, H, MSR
Rating: NC17
Summary: Scully indulges in her favorite confection on Halloween.
Spoilers: The movie
Timeline: Halloween 1998. Assume the dynamic duo have been intimate
since their return from the frozen tundra.
Thanks: To J and J, for the editing and encouragement.
Notes: The title says it all.
xxxxxxxxxxx

"Trick or Treat!"

The phrase is so innocent when delivered by a frilly little princess
or a pint-sized Batman.

The phrase is not so innocent when delivered by the six-foot-tall hunk
of sinful delight that is my partner.

I can't help but laugh. All evening I've been hearing "trick or treat"
when I open my front door. This time, the phrase is spoken to a closed
door, and I know this trick-or-treater wants more than just a Snickers
bar.

Good, because a Snickers is not what I'm hungry for right now.

"C'mon, little girl. Open up. I want some candy."

To me, Mulder =is= candy. Normally I don't have a sweet tooth. Shove a
chocolate bar in my face and I have no problem refusing. But shove
Mulder in my face and I will devour him with the enthusiasm of a kid
who's hit the mother lode on Halloween.

Mulder is my one weakness, a weakness I never knew I had until
recently. We knew once we got back from Antarctica we'd have to deal
with what happened in that hallway. So, like our work, we decided to
tackle it head-on, right after my final hearing with the review board.
That night, in this very apartment, we talked for hours, voicing every
fear and doubt we had about starting an intimate relationship. Silent
communication is great, but it's amazing what a little open
communication can accomplish.

On my couch, we agreed to take it one step at a time, start out slow
and see what each new day brought us. However, in my bed later that
evening, we threw the one-step thing right out the window and screwed
like bunnies until we both collapsed from exhaustion.

"You'd better open the door. I know all of the good tricks. You know I
do."

God, do I ever. His tongue should be listed as a deadly weapon. His
hands should be insured by Lloyd's of London. The tricks he knows are
incredible. Everything about Mulder is incredible. He looks
incredible, which I've known and tried to ignore for six years. He
smells incredible, though he wears no cologne. He even tastes
incredible. He's like a Snickers, Butterfinger, Kit Kat and a whole
bag of Tootsie Rolls all rolled up into one.

He is decadence. He is mouth-wateringly delicious. And unfortunately,
like all candy, he is very bad for me.

He is everything my mother warned me about. He throws caution to the
wind, following his heart instead of his head. He is reckless,
unpredictable and dangerous. He is trouble with a capital T. Not to
mention, he is my partner. You're not supposed to get involved with
your partner. In the Partnership Commandments, number one is thou
shalt not indulge in thy partner's flesh.

It's a good thing Mulder has taught me to ignore the rules.

"Last chance, Scully. Open up or I take my tricks and treats elsewhere."

Oh no you're not. With candy bowl in hand, I open the front door.
Though I try, I can't stop a happy sigh from escaping. Mulder in tight
jeans and leather is my favorite flavor.

He takes the bowl from my hands. "Oooh, you've got the good stuff,
Scully." He walks into the apartment and puts the bowl on the couch.
Interestingly, he doesn't take any of the candy.

"Don't you want any, Mulder?"

He turns to face me and his grin is devilishly inviting. "Oh, I want
some." He crooks his finger at me. "C'mere."

I rarely get to play coy, and to my surprise, I've found I like it.
"But the candy is on the couch."

"Fuck the candy," he replies, his voice like liquid chocolate.

I smile wickedly. "No thanks. I think I'd rather fuck you."

His growl hits my ears and plunges down my body, creating a surge of
moisture as it goes. Before I can take a breath, he is there,
surrounding me with his heat. He crushes his mouth to mine, his kiss
fierce and hungry. His tongue is begging entrance and I'm more than
happy to oblige. That tongue can go wherever it wants. It has a
lifetime all-admittance pass.

While Mulder's tongue does a thorough investigation of my mouth, one
of his hands goes to my lower back and he presses me closer. His hips
thrust against me and I can feel the outline of his erection against
my stomach. Poor thing must be suffocating in those jeans. I should be
a good Samaritan and give him a hand. Or a mouth....

The need to breathe derails my train of thought. I break the kiss
roughly and let a grin creep onto my lips. I shocked him when I said I
wanted to fuck him. I've never talked that way to him. Come to think
of it, I've never talked that way to any man. I never realized how
much power it held. One little word, four letters, and he melted like
an M&M in my mouth.

"What are you smiling at?" he asks with a curious grin.

Mulder, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I think I'll save this
little four-letter revelation for later.

"I'm smiling at you. I'm glad you're here." I push the leather jacket
off his shoulders. "I figured you'd be in a pumpkin patch somewhere
with the Gunmen, waiting for a visit from the Great Pumpkin."

"We did that last year," he tosses back as he gets to work on the
buttons of my sweater. "Made the best-tasting pumpkin pie I've ever
had."

I laugh, unable to help myself. It was a stupid joke, even for Mulder,
but I laugh anyway. I'm too giddy to keep the stoic mask in place.
Tonight is Halloween but there will be no masks for us. No clothes,
either. His t-shirt is a distant memory and I've managed to get his
jeans over his hips. My sweater and bra will soon be joining his
t-shirt and jacket on the floor. We've always made an efficient team.

"So, Mulder. What's this trick you were threatening me with earlier?"

He kicks off his jeans and kneels before me. "It's called the Three
Musketeers trick."

"As in the candy bar?"

He plants a lingering kiss on my abdomen before attacking the zipper
on my jeans. "You'll find out. That is, if you're interested."

Am I interested? Is the Pope Catholic? Is Spender a weenie?

"Maybe." I slip into coy mode without batting an eye.

He looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes and a mischievous grin.
"Maybe?"

"Sure, why not. I wasn't planning on doing anything else tonight." I
move from coy to indifference with the grace of a gazelle.

Too bad Mulder's not buying any of it.

He just keeps smiling at me and removing my clothes. While he wrestles
with my jeans, I let the sweater and bra hit the carpet. His breath
whispers over my calves as he slips the jeans over my feet. His
mission nearly complete, he sits back on his haunches and surveys his
handiwork.

Coyness ran for the hills the minute I saw the raw desire in his eyes.
"Mulder, are you going to look all night or are you going to touch?"

He chuffs softly, then says, "Monty, I choose Door Number Two."

He moves closer and puts his arms around my legs. My knees buckle as
his hands find my upper thighs, then my ass. He pulls me toward him
and plants a kiss above my panties, then places one lower, and one
lower still. His lips are poised right there, just inches from where I
want them to be, the only thing separating my skin and his lips being
a piece of thin cotton. I can feel his breath seeping through the
material and surrounding me, adding to the already growing moist heat.

"Mmmmmmulder...." His name comes out wrapped in a moan. No man has
ever been able to make me moan as incessantly and loudly as Mulder. My
neighbors probably think my apartment is haunted, with all of the
moaning coming out of here lately.

The panties are history now and his tongue is tracing a path from my
navel straight down. I close my eyes and the minute I do, I start to
sway. God, I think I'm going to faint.

"Mulder, I have to...can't stand anymore...bedroom."

What did I just say? Did he understand that? He must have because now
he's standing.

"I have a better idea," he whispers as he leads me into my living
room. He stops, apparently having reached his destination: my Queen
Anne chair.

"Sit, Scully."

I finally open my eyes and find his face positively illuminated. His
eyes are bright, their color a vibrant olive green. His lips are still
curled in that devilish smile. Sweat has formed a thin film over his
flushed skin and his nostrils are flaring with each ragged breath.

He is the most beautiful sight to ever fill my line of vision. I want
him. I have to have him. Now.

"Mulder...."

I feel a finger on my lips. "No. This is my trick and your treat. Just
leave the driving to me."

With you driving, Mulder, how can I not go along for the ride? And
ride is what I plan on doing to you, as soon as you'll let me.

I sit, ungracefully I might add, onto the chair. Before I can settle,
Mulder is tugging at my legs, pulling me forward until my butt is half
hanging off the end of the cushion. My hands form an iron grip on the
chair's armrests as he pushes my legs apart and kneels between them.

"You like the trick so far?"

I laugh. "Oh yeah."

"Good," he says as he graces me with a toothy grin. "'Cause you're
going to love what comes next." With that, his head drops into my lap.

Mary, Mother of God.

I can't believe this is happening. Mulder's head is firmly and
enthusiastically planted between my legs and I'm sitting on my Queen
Anne chair. Correction: my =mother's= Queen Anne chair, the one she
gave me as a house-warming present, the one she gave me because she
knew it was my favorite chair of hers, the one I always considered to
be my chair when I visited her house. She has no idea how important
this chair is going to be from now on.

Oh God, I can never let Mom sit here again. How do you tell your
mother you don't want her sitting in a chair because this is where
Mulder made love to you with his mouth and he had his tongue....

"Oh...right there...oh Mulder...right there...."

Damn him. Damn him for being so good at this. Damn him for standing in
a hallway and telling me how much I mean to him. Damn him for being
the only person on this earth who can steal my control from me with
the flick of a tongue.

No, don't damn him. Damn me. Damn me for letting him get under my
skin. Damn me for listening to my heart, not my head, when it comes to
him. Damn me for wanting him so badly. Damn me for not wanting him to
ever stop.

"Mulder...don't stop...don't stop...pleasedontstop...oh God
pleasedontstop...."

So what does he do?

He stops.

Damn him!

My eyes snap open just in time to see my world turning upside down. Or
maybe it was me turning upside down. All I know is that suddenly I'm
on the carpet and Mulder is above me, grinning like a kid caught in a
candy store after hours. Only that isn't chocolate he's licking off
his lips.

"Still with me on this trick?"

I match his grin with my own. "What do you think?"

I put a hand behind his head and force it down to me, sealing my lips
to his. I kiss him slowly, thoroughly, tasting myself the way he
tastes me. God, it's intoxicating.

He lifts away from me suddenly and I see why: he's still wearing those
tight little boxer briefs, the ones that leave little to the
imagination. His erection is painfully prominent, hugged by the
form-fitting cotton. I watch his face as he peels the material from
his body. Pleasure, pain, desire and anticipation all dance in his
eyes. And hunger. I can see the hunger as his eyes pierce through me
when he positions himself over me again.

No wonder he didn't take a candy bar earlier. This is a hunger no
piece of candy can satisfy.

"Mulder, you never told me why this is called the Three Musketeers
trick?"

"That's the best part, Scully," he says as he slips into me, pushing
himself in so deep I can almost feel him in my throat.

You're right, Mulder. This =is= the best part. This is always the best
part. He sets up a leisurely rhythm, easing out and easing back in,
like sitting in an old rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth,
back and forth. I can see the effort to hold back is stretching his
features; his lips wear a tight grimace and the cords in his neck are
tensed like thick ropes waiting to snap from the pressure.

"Oh...almost there, Mulder...." This is so good, so good, so slow. Too
slow. I want him to speed up. I want him to lose himself in me like
I've eternally lost myself in him. "C'mon, Mulder. Hurry. Tell me
about the trick. Why is it a Three Musketeers trick?"

His eyes snap open and meet mine. Recognition flares in those dark
jade circles and I know he sees the reflection of desire in my eyes. I
want him to let go. He's ready to let go. He angles his hips down and
grasps my hips so that my pelvis is tilted upward. He pulls out
quickly and rams himself home again. It's right on the threshold of
pleasure and pain, and I love it. He knows I love it.

So what does he do?

He does it again, and again, and again, and again.

"See," he forces out, him rhythm never changing, "it's called the..."
He pulls out, then roughly slams in. "...Three Musketeers trick
because..." Pulls out, slams in. "...because it's all for one..."
Pulls out, slams in. "...and one for all..." Out, in. "...we go
together..." Out, in. "...or not at all..." Out, in. "...are you with
me..." Out, in. "...Scully, are you with meeeeee...."

"I'm with you, Mulder, I'm right there with...Mulder...."

And then I'm gone. My head becomes so light I think it might fly away
like a balloon caught on the wings of a breeze. I see starbursts. Not
the fruity candy ones but the celestial ones, little tiny stars
imploding and creating a puff of light right behind my eyelids.
Hundreds of them, thousands of them, creating a magical light show for
an audience of one. Off in the distance, I hear Mulder moaning my
name. Two very long syllables that penetrate me and intertwine
themselves with my orgasm, extending the high caused by the drug that
is Fox Mulder.

I finally become aware of my body, but only because Mulder's body has
collapsed onto me. He's mumbling something into my shoulder. Or maybe
he's just gnawing on it. I can't tell. My hand instinctively finds his
hair and I soothe him back to earth. He starts mumbling louder.

"Mulder, what did you say?"

He lifts his head. "I said, damn that was a good trick."

I laugh. "I agree. Why did you save it until Halloween?"

With a returning laugh, he lifts his weight off of me, slowly pulls
out and rolls onto his back. His arm snakes around my shoulders and I
get the hint, molding myself to his side and resting my head on his
chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see he's reaching for
something. I don't remember us rolling around on the floor, but we're
now in the space between the chair and couch, and Mulder is just
barely able to grab the candy bowl.

"Snickers, M and M's and Tootsie Rolls. Decision, decisions." He
settles on a Snickers and rips it open with one hand. I don't want to
know where and how he honed that talent. He pops the whole snack-sized
bar into his mouth.

While he munches, I take the opportunity to admire the post-coital
Mulder. His face is dotted with drops of sweat and his hair is
plastered to his forehead. I guess that's understandable. He was doing
most of the work this time. He's still semi-erect, which is an
accomplishment. He's thirty-eight; thirty-eight-year-old men are not
supposed to have that kind of stamina. I'd like to think I have
something to do with that. Maybe I do. Or maybe it's the fact that
he's just inhaled his fifth Snickers bar and the sugar rush is heading
south.

"Mulder, you're eating all of my candy."

"It's late, Scully. You won't get any more trick-or-treaters tonight."
He smacks his lips. "I wouldn't want it to go to waste."

"It wouldn't have."

He offers the bowl to me. "You want some?"

Oh yeah, I want some, but not that flavor.

"No thanks, I have my own." I start at his chin and slowly kiss my way
down, tasting every delicious salty inch of his neck.

"I thought you wanted some candy," he says in a sandpaper voice.

"I'm having some Kisses."

He chuckles softly. I hear the rustle of plastic and look up to see
him attacking another candy bar. I know he's usually hungry after sex,
but this is ridiculous. At this rate there won't be anything left for
me.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. Time to call in a trick
of my own.

I sit up and move over him, straddling his thighs. I skim my nails
down his chest a few times. His eyes are closed and his jaw is working
methodically on the candy bar. He has the silliest grin on his face. I
think he believes he's in heaven. A naked woman sitting on him, a
candy bar in his mouth. What more could a man want?

I think I know the answer to that question.

I lower my head and my tongue whispers over his navel, dips in
quickly, and then continues its path south through the forest of hair.
That gets me a thick, chocolately moan.

"Mmmmm. I thought you were having some candy, Scully."

I plant a few kisses on his hipbone before answering, "I am."

"More Kisses?" He reaches for yet another candy bar.

"No." I lift my head and grin. "A Blow-Pop."

And then I take him into my mouth. I can feel his moan all the way
down here. His semi-erect status is quickly escalating into a
full-blown erection. The Snickers bar drops from his hand and plunks
onto the carpet.

"Oh...Scu...lee...."

I knew I could get his mind off my candy.


FINIS