TITLE:    WRITING MADNESS
AUTHOR:   DONNILEE
E-MAIL:   DONNILEE@SNET.NET
RATING:   NC-17
WARNING:  Descriptive sex. Smut.  Please, no one
          under 17.
CATEGORY: MSR /ANGST
POSTING:  ANYWHERE - But Please make sure my name and
          e-mail address are on it and inform me by e-mail
          of the location.  Thank you.
SUMMARY:  Mulder invades Scully's privacy and finds out
some interesting things.
DISCLAIMER: Nope.  Not mine.  Used shamelessly and
without remorse.  They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and
Fox, and god knows who else, but not me.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

SUNDAY EVENING
11:15 PM

Fox Mulder paced his tiny living room, back and forth,
back and forth.  They hadn't seen each other all weekend
and he was going crazy wanting to hear her voice.  How
pathetic was that? She wasn't answering her phones and he
was worried.  He shouldn't be, but he was.  She would be
annoyed if he busted in on her on a Sunday night. 'Oh,
screw it, he thought. I have to know she's all right.' He
grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door.

SUNDAY EVENING
11:15 PM

Dana Scully laid her open journal down on the coffee
table. Writing was often cathartic for her. She felt
better having bared her soul on paper. She heaved a big
sigh. Coffee, she needed coffee, espresso. There was an
all night coffee bar down the street, just two blocks.
She could use the walk to clear her head. She didn't want
to go to sleep yet. Then the dreams would come and she
wasn't ready yet. She'd been out earlier grocery shopping
and returned to her place feeling blue and decided
honesty was the only thing that was going to relieve her
mood. So what if the honesty was only to a piece of paper
in a leather bound book. At least she was being honest
with herself for a change. It was hot, so she had turned
on her little fan, trying to be frugal with the air
conditioning and poured her heart out in the pages of her
journal. She sighed again. She grabbed her jacket and
headed for the door.

SUNDAY EVENING
12: 00 AM

After repeated knocking, yelling her name and calling
from his cell phone didn't produce her at her door, he
took out his key for emergencies and slipped in the lock.
Silently in his mind, he justified this as an emergency.
God knew what had happened to her. It wasn't like her to
turn off her cell phone too. He entered, closed and
locked the door, carefully looking around the living
room. He made a circuit of the apartment. No, she wasn't
here and nothing seemed out of place.

A small oscillating fan blew a breeze across the couch.
He sat on the couch wondering where she was and if he
should wait for her. What if she came home with someone?
God, that would kill him. She wasn't dating was she?

Just then the fan blew across the coffee table on its
circular path across the room and blew the pages of a
leather bound book on the table up and over. He glanced
at it and froze when he saw his name at the top of the
page in her distinctive script. It was dated today.

It must be a journal. He didn't even know she kept one.
There were so many things he didn't know about her. The
temptation to read it was tremendous. His eyes had darted
away from his name as he attempted to look everywhere,
anywhere, but back at the book.

She would never forgive him for such a rash invasion of
her privacy. 'Only if she knew' his voice in his head
replied. What was she writing about you? Probably her
frustrations over what an asshole you were on the last
case, he thought.

He wrestled, good Mulder on one shoulder and bad Mulder
on the other for several long minutes and finally he
couldn't stand it. He had to know what she said about
him, he had to read it. Justification kicked in and he
reasoned that if it was bad, he could potentially change
what bothered her and improve their relationship. She
would never have to know. He gasped at the first line.
And knew he had to read the rest.

      July 29, 2000
     "Fox Mulder is my obsession. What is it about him?
Have you ever slipped quietly into an obsession? I
did. It was so insidious, I had no idea it was
happening until it was too late. Then one day I
realized that not a day went by without me zoning
out, staring at something on his body, or thinking
about something he'd done or said. I couldn't get
him out of my mind.

     Sometimes it was his long graceful fingers. He has
the fingers of a piano player, long and graceful. I
would watch as they fluttered through pages of a
report and splayed out to mark a passage he was
reading. And I would ruthlessly suppress the
shudder that inevitably came when those fingers
touched my face or neck.

     Sometimes it was his forearms, cuffs of his shirt
rolled up to combat the heat, muscles and tendons
waving under the brown skin as he gesticulated with
his hands. I can feel them flexing sometimes when
he lays his hand on the small of my back. I love it
when he does that.

     Sometimes, the chest, hidden under silk dress
shirts and revealed in splendor on the rare
occasion I get to see him a snug turtleneck or tee
shirt. He would laugh and give me that impossibly
arrogant leer if he knew I had trouble
concentrating on his speech whenever he was in a
turtle neck. I remember nursing him after I shot
him, after that fire incident with that bitch,
Phoebe. He doesn't know my secret, that while he
slept, I ran my hands over that chest, traced every
muscle in his rib and reveled in the feel of being
able to touch him.

     Ah, the backside, don't even want to say what the
sight of that ass in black jeans does to me. I want
to grab it and squeeze and yell, MINE!

     But my biggest downfall has to be the mouth. That
plump lower lip that just begs to be sucked on. The
tongue that I watch deftly de-shell sunflower seed
after sunflower seed. Those lips look so soft. I'll
bet they are warm too.

     How many times had I wanted to push that errant
lock of chestnut hair off his forehead and run my
hands through his hair. I have a time or two when
comforting him. It's so thick and soft. How many
times have I wanted to touch his face, run my hands
over his jaw? Too many times to count.

     The nights are the worst. No matter how hard I try
to think of someone or something else, it's his
face that invades my fantasies and dreams. I see
those hazel eyes, gold flecks starring into my soul
the way no other man ever has. Those eyes by turns
are haunted with pain and guilt, sparkling with
excitement or humor, and squinting in
concentration. Twice I've seen them black with
desire and alas, they were not turned on me at the
time. No. They were, each of those times, turned on
women with chestnut hair like his own, tall women
with long legs and big boobs. His type. Christ, why
does it hurt so much to say that I'm not his type?

     It makes me so angry. Women from his past have
power over him. For a brilliant man he can be
incredibly dense when it comes to women. I could
see their deceit and mechanisms minutes after
meeting each of them. And my jealousy was not
clouding my judgment at these first meetings. I
smelled the deceit and phoniness on Diana and the
head games on Phoebe. But he wouldn't listen to me
about either of them. That hurt so much.

     He was more willing to trust these women who had
hurt him and abandoned him than he was willing to
trust me. Me. I had never hurt him the ways they
had. I had never abandoned him. I had never cheated
on him even though we are not even lovers. I had
never played head games with him. But he would
believe them and not trust my judgment.

     At those times, I would wonder, what has it all
been for then? What had my loyalty bought me? What
had my unconditional acceptance of him, warts and
all, done to my life? Was it worth it?

     He scoffed at my appraisal of Diana as though I
were a petulant child unwilling to share my
sandbox. He knew I was threatened because she
believed like he believed, or pretended to anyway.
I wasn't really convinced. He insulted me so badly
by thinking that I could be that childish. Didn't
he give me any more credit than that? God, the pain
of those days, I can't even describe it. I would
end up here crying on the couch every night. It
embarrasses me to think about it now. Seeing him
holding her hands that day, and seeing him kiss
Phoebe that other day, I felt my heart was being
ripped from my chest. I wanted to be the one he was
kissing. I wanted to be the one he was holding. I
wanted to be the one holding his hands. I was the
one who had always been there for him through thick
and thin. I was the one that had watched his back
for these past years. I bled from those wounds for
a long time.

     But love is blind, as they say. And so I stayed
even when I knew I should go and let him learn the
hard way. But I couldn't. I could no more leave him
than I could sever one of my own limbs. He had
become a part of me even if I meant nothing to him.

     And the tension has grown. The sexual frustration
has grown. The ache in my heart and knot in my gut
have grown. Seven years we've been together now.
Together as partners, colleagues and friends, but
never together as I long to be. Never together as
lovers. There have been times I thought he felt
something more than friendship for me. But then one
of those women from his past would rear her ugly
head and my illusion would be shattered.

     This isn't just a physical thing. I marvel at his
brilliance, I welcome the challenge of his wild
theories, I love the work we do. I love to watch
his passion for it. I wish that passion was for me,
but it is an awesome thing to watch. I've never had
a singular passion like that for anything in my
life, until now. Now my singular passion is for
him. It grew, the physical passion, from the facets
of his personality, the admiration of his traits,
the tender way he would treat me sometimes. The
respect that he gave me as his equal after time
made me feel safe and worthy. He'll never know how
much that meant to me, means to me still. But in
the process of proving that I could keep up with
him, I must have erased my femininity. Erased the
fact that I am a woman from his mind. I am simply,
Scully, his partner, and his friend. That's it. It
sucks.

     The dreams still come, mere shadows of my hopes.
What could those lips do to my body? What would
those hands feel like on my breasts. And of course,
what would it feel like to have him sliding in and
out of me, hard and fast, filling me to the brim? I
shiver just thinking about it. Christ, one thought
and I'm wet and aching, my nipples are hard. I am
pathetic. What kind of lover would he be? Would he
be tender and gentle or demanding and fierce? Or
both?

Sometimes my fantasies go the other way. What could I do
to him if he would once just let me touch him, kiss
him. Slide my mouth over his hard silkiness. What
would he taste like? Could I make him call out my
name as he climaxed? I would love to try. But fear
of rejection is too strong. I couldn't bear it if
he pushed me away. It would shatter my soul. So I
do nothing and trudge along in this partnership of
ours, emotionally bleeding to death every time he
flirts with another woman. Hoping, one day, I will
see that look of desire on his face when he looks
at me. If I do, it will be all over. I bleed every
time he touches another woman, even casually.

     He is a passionate man and would probably have sex
with me were I to ask. But it could never be just
sex to me, and if that's all it would be to him,
I'd rather slowly bleed to death. The pain of not
being able to touch the one you love is tremendous.
But worse would be to touch him and know that he
regretted it the next day. Know that it was casual
and just a fuck to him. I wouldn't survive that
humiliation. If I ever touch him that way, there
will be no going back for me. I will be utterly
lost.

     People think I'm the strong one. I am in most
respects. I have worked very hard to be
professional and respected in my field. But Fox
Mulder is my weakness. He is a tearing, gaping hole
of weakness in my heart and soul. I would do
anything for him. He doesn't know that, but I
would. He feels guilty for all that has occurred
during the course of our working together, as
though it is his fault. It isn't, I chose to be
here and I wouldn't change one day. I meant it when
I said that to him. I love him. Anything he wants,
he needs only to ask, and I am helpless to say NO.
I can't put up much more than a token fight.

     There is nothing to be done about my obsession
except to endure it. For I cannot leave him. I will
stay by his side for as long as he will allow me
the privilege. But Lord it hurts sometimes. It
hurts so bad. I need to be away from him sometimes
to get my bearings again, become stable enough to
continue in his presence without revealing my love
and desire for him. I've been away for two days
now. It's Sunday evening. Another day or so should
do it. I think I'll call in sick tomorrow and go
visit my mother. One more day. I need one more day
away. Right now, I need coffee.

* *


He was having intense reactions to her words. One was the
hot tears coursing down his cheeks in reaction to the
gripping sensation in his chest. He was feeling guilt and
shame for the pain he caused her. The other was an
erection so hard  ached. He never dreamed she felt this
way about him. How could she want him? He was so fucked
up. But she did. God, he was the biggest fool in the
world. That was going to change. He had to think though.
And he couldn't right now. He was too overwhelmed. He
slammed the book shut and left the apartment, jogging to
his car. His mantra was "Just go home, think this out.
Just go home. Think this out.'

* *

Dana saw him pulling away as she approached her building.
She waved and yelled but he kept going. I wonder what he
was here for? She thought. Probably something about a
case. That's all he ever came to see her about. She
gripped her espresso and headed inside the building.

* *

He sat on his couch for a long time digesting what he had
read. His eidetic memory could recall it in perfect
detail. He had no idea he had hurt her so badly. That was
the last thing he ever wanted to do. Little did she know
every attempt to be with another woman in the last seven
years had been his way of trying to supplant and suppress
his feelings for her. He'd been in love with her for a
long time and had desired her for even longer. He thought
she knew and chose to ignore it because she didn't feel
the same way. He would never get the words out that he
needed to say to her if she were in front of him. He
picked up a legal pad from his desk and started to write.

* *

Dana hung her coat and dropped her keys on the end table
by the couch. She sat down with her coffee cradled in
both hands. She looked at her journal and gasped. Didn't'
I leave it open? Or do I just not remember closing it?
No, he wouldn't have come in, would he? He probably just
knocked and left when I didn't answer. Oh god, he
couldn't have read it could he? She felt sick to her
stomach at that thought. She looked over to her desk to
see the message light blinking on her answering machine.
When had those calls come in? She had forgot to check it
when she came home from grocery shopping. She stood and
strolled to the desk and punched the 'Play' button.

BEEP-  Hey, Scully, it's me. I was wondering if you
wanted to get some Chinese with me for dinner, I'll buy.
Well, call me.

BEEEP-  Hey Scully, it's me. Still not home, huh? It's
about 8 o'clock. Where are you on a Sunday night? Uh,
scratch that, none of my business, right? Sorry. Anyway,
call me when you get in.

BEEEP-  O.K., Scully, I'm worried now. It's 10 o'clock. I
know I shouldn't be, you're a big girl, I know. Probably
at your mother's place. Hope so. Please call me when you
get in. Your cell phone's off too, did you know that? I'm
worried Scully. It's silly I know but I get a little
panicky when I can't reach you. Call me and let me know
you're O.K. Please. No matter what time. Bye.

BEEEP- O.K., me again. It's 11 o'clock. Damn it, Scully.
I know I'm being a jerk but I'm coming over there. I have
to know you're O.K. I'll be there in less than an hour.
Bye.

Dana sighed and erased the messages. So he'd come to
check up on her. She knew she should be mad. Since when
was he her keeper? But the sound of his voice kept her
anger at bay. He was really worried. He did care for her
at least. She knew her abduction had made him a little
paranoid where she was concerned. That little trip to
Antarctica hadn't helped his protective streak. Truth is
told, it didn't rankle like it used to. She liked it that
he worried about her. That he cared enough to worry. But
had he come in? She'd given him a key for emergencies.
She'd better call or he'd have the cops out looking for
her.

* *

He paused in his writing when the phone rang. It was 1:00
AM. It was probably her. Should he answer? He couldn't
talk to her right now. He let the machine pick up.

BEEEP-  THIS IS MULDER. YOU KNOW THE DRILL. BEEEP.
Mulder, it's me. I got your messages. Sorry to worry you.
I was out shopping and forgot to check them when I came
in. Then I just ran out for coffee a bit ago. I saw you
leaving as I walked up to my building. I yelled but you
didn't hear me. Well, I guess you're not home yet. Don't
put out an APB on me. (She chuckled.) I'm fine. (Pause)
By the way, did you come inside? Just curious. See you
later.

He breathed a sigh of relief. She was O.K. Thank God. He
must have just missed her. He didn't hear her. His ears
had been buzzing at the time. Oh, god, she'd asked if he
had been inside. She must have been able to tell. But
how? He hadn't touched anything except her journal and he
hadn't even lifted it from the table. Well, she'd know
soon enough. He bent over his pad and continued writing.

* *

She called in sick. She'd left a message with Mulder and
Skinner just saying she didn't feel well and would be in
tomorrow. Now she had to whole day. What to do? Go to
Mom's? Better yet, invite her to lunch.

* *

He wasn't surprised she'd called in. She'd said she
needed another day away from him. He hoped to fix that
soon. He fingered the thick envelope on his desk. Should
he leave it for her here or go to her house? It was Noon
and he could leave for lunch. He picked up the phone and
dialed. No answer. He hung up and headed out the door,
envelope in hand.

* *

Dana arrived home from lunch with her mother. It was 2:30
PM and they'd had a relaxing afternoon. She'd told her
mother she was taking a mental health day. She didn't
tell her the reason that she needed one. She almost fell
when she stepped on an envelope and it slid across her
hard wood floor. She picked it up, wondering if one of
their informants had left another cryptic message to
something they were being led to investigate. She hated
that.

Her name only in Mulder's blocky writing was etched on
the front. "Scully." Why would Mulder push something
under her door. Why not just call? Oh god, unless... 'Don't
be paranoid' she thought. You called in sick he probably
didn't want to disturb you. She slowly opened the flap
which was unsealed and pulled the pages out. It was a
letter. Oh god. She staggered to the couch, hands
shaking, and began to read.

* *

     "Dana - I don't even know how to begin to tell you
all the things that I need to tell you. It's time.
But I know that I could never get the words out if
you were here in front of me, so I'm writing, like
you did. I don't know if you'll ever forgive me for
invading your privacy like I did. I have no good
excuse except my blazing curiosity. I let myself
into your apartment tonight (or last night by the
time you read this). I was sick with worry when I
couldn't reach you. I know you hate it when I'm
protective of you, but I can't help it. I'll tell
you why in a minute.

     I saw your journal. I didn't know you kept one. I
was sitting there waiting for you to return and
thinking about all the things I don't know about
you. All the things I wish I knew. When I looked
down and saw my name on the top of a fan blown
page. I fought my asshole demon for several minutes
and then gave up and read what you wrote.

     I'm not sure I can even describe my reaction to
your words. I'll try. I couldn't breathe. I had a
gripping sensation in my chest. I think that's the
feeling when your heart breaks. I was relieved and
excited all at once. I was incredulous and
unbelieving and thrilled. And it goes without
saying, so turned on I thought I thought I would
implode.

     I was also wracked with guilt over the pain I've
caused you. I wished I'd been more open with you
about what I was feeling and you could have been
spared a lot of pain and we would not have wasted
all this time. I wished I'd known, but you seemed
to not want to know and so I didn't burden you with
it. My feelings for Diana and Phoebe were a mere
shadow to what I feel for you. My interest in Diana
died many years ago. But, I felt I owed her
friendship and the benefit of the doubt because of
our past. I was wrong, as usual. And you were
right. I should have listened and trusted your
judgment, knowing mine, with women especially has
always stunk.

     When she came to me when you were in Africa, she
said she loved me, but I could sense the lie in her
words. She merely had regrets and a bruised ego
that I had been able to go on without her and when
she returned, I was able to walk away again. She
helped you to save me in the end but I believe
guilt was the reason, not love. Her motives were
never pure.

     Phoebe, well, I guess I was just lonely and
vulnerable but my reaction to her was just
physical. It had been so long since a woman had
paid attention to me that way, but I wished it was
you. But I knew I couldn't have you, or so I
thought. And later, I was disgusted with her and
mostly with myself for even considering offering
her forgiveness for what she'd done to me so long
ago. Live and learn. Neither woman holds a candle to
you Dana, but I never allowed myself to think for
one minute that I could have you in my life as more
than a friend. I know that following the rules
means a lot to you and I'd already convinced you to
break so many and compromise your morals on my
account. I felt lucky to have you friendship and
blessed. I couldn't dream of asking for more and
risking what we had.

     But that doesn't mean I could stop my mind from
wondering. You skin where I've touched you on your
neck and face is so soft. I wondered, is it that
soft all over? The pulse in your neck above your
collar bone, if I kissed you there, could I make
you moan? Your lips, ah god, those lips, Dana, so
full, so soft and wet. What do they taste like?
Your breasts, so full for your small frame. If I
suckled you, could I make you wet for me? All these
things I have wondered. Never think that I didn't
notice that you were a woman. I also thought that
if I alluded to it, you would scream inappropriate
behavior or sexual harassment, or think I was
implying you weren't my equal.

     I've imagined what you taste like. I'm guessing
tangy. I've imagined making slow, hot, passionate
love to you in a hundred different places and a
hundred different ways. Why? Have you guessed yet,
Dana?

     Because I'm in love with you. I have been for along
time. I thought you knew.

     I thought you ignored my innuendo and avoided
talking about us because you didn't feel the same
way, and why would you? I've caused you so much
pain. I figured your silence was your way of not
acknowledging the tension between us. Words make it
real, don't they? If I never voiced my feelings, I
could compartmentalize them.

     But now...Pandora's box is open. And I can't close
the lid. Dana, I'm scared. I'm so afraid of losing
you, especially now. Afraid that I have ruined the
one the one relationship in my life that means
anything to me because I couldn't keep my nose to
myself.

     Can you forgive me for invading your privacy this
way? Please tell me I haven't lost you, lost your
trust, that I haven't lost you as a friend.

     Dana, I love you and my life would be pointless
without you. I found that out when you were gone.
I'll break every rule in the book to be with you,
every rule in the book just to make this right with
you. Whatever it takes.

     If you can forgive me...come to my apartment tonight,
anytime after 6 PM.

     I love you --- Yours, Mulder XXOO

* *

It took hours of contemplation, elation, hyperventilating
and changing her clothes ten times before Dana could
leave her apartment. Her heart was hammering in her chest
and she wondered if she could make it through this
evening. This was dream come true, why was she afraid?

She looked at the ceiling and said a silent prayer. 'God,
please let this go right. Please.'

* *

He'd left work early, showered and changed his clothes,
set the table, lit candles all over his apartment,
changed the sheets on his bed, even vacuumed. Everything
was ready by 6:00 PM. It was now 8:00 and he sat on his
couch thinking, 'she isn't coming, I blew it.'

Then he heard the knock on the door, hesitant. His heart
stopped for a second and he swallowed hard. He took a
deep breath as he made his way to the door. 'Breathe Fox,
just breathe, you can do this. She's here. You can do
this.' One more deep breath and he swung the door open.

Oh.My.God.  She was a vision. She was wearing a short
lycra skirt, sky blue with a lighter blue cardigan
sweater that hugged her chest. Her hair was soft and
curling around her head. She hadn't straightened it into
the professional FBI agent mode. She was wearing very
little makeup, maybe some mascara a little rouge. No eye
shadow, no foundation. He could see her freckles. No
lipstick. Her color was high and she stood still as he
looked her up and down. He finally found her eyes and
held her gaze. She looked scared and I smiled to reassure
her and stepped back from the door so she could come in.

She came in and headed for the couch, but turned in front
of it without sitting down. I stopped and held still
while she looked me over the way I had her. God, you'd
think we'd never seen each other in casual clothes
before.

* *

Lord Almighty, he looks good. Black jeans, white
turtleneck, snug. He was wearing a pair of moccasins I'd
never seen, no socks. His hair was still damp. His skin
looked so dark against the white turtleneck. He finally
broke the silence.

"I feel like I should twirl around or something."

Ah, the trademark humor. She couldn't help the answering
smile that came to her face.

"I'm nervous." That was all she could get out. Her throat
was suddenly closing up.

He smiled. "Me too."

They stood watching each other for another minute.
Finally, he took two long strides toward her. She
stiffened. He gently laid his hands on her shoulders. She
stared at his chest. His fingers came under her chin and
lifted her face.

"You're here, so I guess that means you forgive me?"
There was fear in his voice and she could see it in his
eyes.

"Yes." Again, the only word she could get out.

"Do you love me?" This was asked softly. His bottom lip
was trembling and then seized in his top teeth.

She stared at him for a long few seconds. She saw his
lids close in defeat and whispered. "Yes."

His eyes snapped open. He swallowed hard and began a slow
descent. He stopped millimeters from her mouth, waiting
for her to pull away. She didn't. He slowly slid his lips
over hers, lightly. She shivered. Encouraged he slanted
his mouth over hers and kissed her for real.

Holy Shit. Her lips were so soft, her mouth was so warm.
Her tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip and he
groaned right into her mouth and wrapped his arms around
her back and pulled her into him. He deepened the kiss,
exploring her mouth, battling with her tongue, licking
her teeth and lips. Then she did it. She took his bottom
lip in between hers and nipped it, then sucked on it. He
groaned again and loosened his grip on her. They broke
for air and he leaned his forehead on hers. Her hands had
made it to his neck at some point. Now they wandered down
and caressed his chest, sliding over his pecs and down
his stomach.

The bulge in his jeans was obvious and she smiled. She
could really do that to him? She wanted to touch him
everywhere.

He whispered, "What do you want to happen here Dana? I'll
do whatever you want. I don't want to make a mistake
here. The balls in your court."

She sighed. His hands dangled loose around the small of
her back. She continued to rub his chest and stomach and
delighted in the way his stomach muscles rippled under
her touch. She leaned up on tiptoe and licked his neck.
He gasped.

She finally found her voice. "Touch.Me." His hands came
alive, sliding up and down her back, over her neck, down to
her rear end, pulling her against him and pressing his
hardness into her belly. It was her turn to moan.

One hand slid around to the front and up to cup her
breast through her sweater and swipe a thumb over her
nipple. It was immediately hard and erect and straining
against the material of her sweater. They were both
breathing hard.

She looked up to make eye contact and there it was. Oh
God. The look. Lids at half-mast, pupils black and
dilated, jaw slack. Desire. Desire for her. Just like
she'd dreamed. And just like she predicted she was lost.
She had to have him in this last way. She had to feel his
skin on her skin. This was it. She could have it.

He stared at her, trying to catch his breath. He was
painfully hard and his jeans were suddenly very
confining. Her eyes had turned a smoky blue and were
gazing at him. Aroused Scully. Because of him. It was
almost too much to comprehend. He couldn't stand here
forever and he was reaching a critical point where he
might lose control. He didn't want to scare her or make
an ass of himself now.

"Scully, this is where you tell me to stop if you don't
want this to go where I think it's going."

"Where do you think it's going?"

"I know where I want it to go."

"Tell me."

No more secrets. He leaned in to her and let his hot
breath surround her ear. She shivered. He whispered, "I
want to make love to you so badly. I want to touch you
everywhere and feel you under me. I want to make you
scream with pleasure."

She groaned again and leaned into his torso, wrapping her
arms around him for support. "Mulder."

"Hmm?"

"Make love to me."

His breath was another whisper, "Oh God." He broke from
her and she missed the heat of his body. He grabbed her
hand and led her into his bedroom. She looked around. She
had only been in here once and it had been a mess. Now it
was clean, there was the scent of cinnamon candles in the
air. Several candles cast the room in shadow and the
light flickered across his face.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

He reached to undo her sweater buttons and realized his
hands were shaking. She smiled a lazy smile and nodded
her head for him to continue. He made short of them
despite his trembling and carefully pushed the sides of
her sweater away. A simple white cotton bra held her
chest on display. He rubbed her nipples with his thumbs
and gazed at the expanse of white skin on her stomach.
She was panting and reached up to unclasp the bra from
its hook in the front and let it drop.

He sucked in his breath and smoothed his hands over her,
testing the weight of each mound of flesh, and running
his hands up and down her sides only to return. God, she
was so soft. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Scully was impatient. "I've waited long enough.  As much
as I love that turtleneck, you're overdressed, Mulder."

He chuckled and backed up to pull his shirt over his head
in one swift move. She reached for his belt and deftly
undid his belt buckle, button and zipper on his pants and
shoved his jeans down his long legs, pulling them off as
he lifted one foot and then the other to help her. The
moccasins were gone. He shuddered as she stood up,
sliding her hands up the front of his legs, stopping at
his hips to squeeze him gently. She let go and unzipped
her skirt and peeled it off, revealing simple white
cotton panties.

He reached for her and slid his thumbs under the elastic
and gently pulled them down her legs. She reached for his
boxers and slid them down and stood again. They stood
naked in front of each other and examined each other.

God, she's exquisite, he thought. So small. He never
thought of himself as a particularly large man although
he knew he was tall, a bit over 6 feet. But next to
Scully he felt like a giant. She looked like a little
china doll. She looked down and gasped at the sight of
his erection. He was large and very, very erect, and big
around. "Ooo," she murmured.

He blushed in reaction to her gaze. "You like?" he
asked quietly.

"Yeess," her reply was a hiss. She stepped in and took
him in her hand and rubbed from tip to root and back and
again. Impossibly, he hardened even further and gasped.

"Scully, this will be over way to quick if you keep that
up."

"Mmm.  Don't worry.  We'll take our time later. I've
waited to long for this."

"Later?" he squeaked, as her hand tunneled around him
again

"Mmm, later." She released him and hopped onto the bed
and scooted up to the headboard and reclined on the
pillows. One leg was bent up at the knee and the other
was laid against the bed spread. Her sex exposed to him,
her red curls flickering in the candle light. She held up
a hand beckoning him to her and he carefully crawled
across the bed and positioned himself between her legs.

He separated her folds with his fingers and she
whimpered. "So wet, Scully, god, you're so wet."

"Oh god," was her only reply as he slid two fingers into
her and began rubbing the front wall of her tunnel. His
lips came down to lap at her wetness and then sucked on
her center. She bucked her hips up off the bed and he
held her down with his free hand. He was relentless,
lapping, nipping and sucking at her and never stopping
his stroking fingers.

She knew he'd be good at this, but holymotherofgod! Sharp
bolts of desire washed through her from her core. Inside,
holy shit, he found the spot. She moaned low and loud.
She babbled to him, "Yes, oh god, Mulder, so good, yes,
like that, like that, yeah, right there. A little more,
oh god, oh god, oooohhhh, gooooddddd."  This last was
shrieked as the spasms of her orgasm consumed her and she
contracted around his fingers, pushing her hips into his
face.  He held on and continued to stroke and suck on
her, prolonging her waves.  When she settled he crawled
up to her side and put his fingers in his mouth, licking
them clean.  She watched fascinated as she returned to
earth.

She pulled him onto her and chuckled as he rolled between
her thighs, feeling his erection brush the soft skin of
her inner thigh.  "Now Mulder."

He braced himself on one elbow, and reached down to guide
himself into her.  He slid in a couple of inches and
stopped.  'Holy shit, she was tight.  He could feel her
slight spasms around the end of his engorged dick.

She said, "It's been so long and you're so big."  He
smiled and nodded.  And waited.  She breathed deeply and
nodded.  He slid in a couple more inches and stopped.  He
waited for her nod, and again, slid in a couple inches.
Almost there.

Scully was being stretched like she'd never been
stretched.  Despite her wetness he was pulling her walls
to their limit.  There was a hot burning sensation of the
muscles stretching to accommodate him.  It felt delicious
and she knew that she would be incredibly sore in the
morning but she didn't care.  The slow motion pulse of
her walls around him was a divine feeling.  She was so
stimulated and sensitive from her orgasm.  He was almost
there.  This was going to be so good.  She was on the
verge of another orgasm and he hadn't even stroked inside
her yet.  She nodded a final time.

He removed his hand from between their legs, balanced on
both elbows and sunk his weight into her, pushing that
last inch inside.  He was stretching her cervix up into
her womb and the ache was delicious.  A heavy throbbing
in her pelvis.  He stayed still for a few seconds as they
gazed at each other.

He sucked in his breath, "Oh, god, Scully, I can't
believe this is you.  You feel so good.  Unbelievably
good.  Oh god, you're so small, so tight."  He was
gasping.

She lifted her legs higher and thrust her hips
experimentally and felt him slide a little deeper.  They
both groaned and began to stroke her, slowly at first
with a short stroke.  His speed increased and so did the
length of his strokes.  They were both moaning
continuously.  She didn't recognize some of the sounds
coming out of her throat and didn't care.  His moans were
ratcheting her desire up with every stroke.

"Faster," she gasped out.  He began slamming into her
fast and hard.  She could feel his penis brushing over
her clitoris every time he entered her.  Bolts of
sensation were spiking through her abdomen and she
couldn't talk anymore.

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it another
minute, her peak hit.  Her womb contracted violently, and
her walls clamped down on him holding him inside.  She
screamed his name as the waves kept coming.  It had never
been this intense or lasted this long.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Mulder throw his
head back, neck muscles straining as he shouted her name,
lowered his head to her shoulder and emptied himself into
her in a series of shuddering hard thrusts.  "Scully
loveyou, ohgod, Scullyloveyou.  Ahhh, god.  Holyshit,
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh."

She cradled his head on her chest as he rode out the
aftershocks.  He mumbled against her skin, "Never come
that hard in my life."

"Me neither."  He lifted his head to look into her eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."  She paused.  He could hear the
trepidation in her voice. "No regrets?"

"Not a one."  He smiled a wide toothy smile at her.  She
smiled in relief.  They were both teary.

He rolled off her and pulled her up on top of him.  He
played with her hair and reveled in the feeling of
holding her against him.  He could smell them.  Them!
She squirmed a little getting comfortable.

"I could sleep here.  You are so comfortable."

"Be my guest.  I'd love it."

"Did you eat?"

"No, I was too nervous.  Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"Well, I have a casserole ready.  It just needs to be
warmed up."

"You cooked a casserole?"

"Yeah."

"Well, wonders never cease."

He chuckled.  "We have a lot to learn about each other.
As much as we know, we don't know even more."

"Yeah, but it will be fun learning."

"Yeah, it will."

They were silent a few more minutes just enjoying the
feeling of being pressed together.

"Let's eat," she mumbled.

"O.K."

They each fished around for their underwear.  Scully put
on a tee-shirt of his with her undies and walked out.  He
shook his head at the sight of her in nothing but her
underwear and one of his big shirts hanging to her knees.
She was adorable.  He could get used to this.  He didn't
remember ever being this happy.

He yanked on his boxers and followed her to the kitchen.

THE END.