Habit-Forming by shannono shannono@iname.com Story, MSR, NC-17, PWP, Spoilers through "Millennium" Summary: Sometimes, a new habit is easy to form. Thanks: To Robbie, Lena, and Livia, beta chicks extraordinare. Particularly when it comes to smut beta. ========== Habit-Forming by shannono January 21, 2000 Washington, D.C. Kissing Mulder was possibly the smartest thing Scully had done in her recent memory. Maybe in her life. His mouth was warm and soft against hers, opening to the gentle knock of her tongue without hesitation. His lips caressed hers with an ease and familiarity that belied their lack of acquaintance; had she not known better, she would have sworn they'd been kissing like this for years. His tongue unfolded into her mouth, stroking the tender skin inside slowly, firmly, sending waves of sensation out along every nerve ending in her body. Her fingers, wrapped around the nape of his neck, tingled and burned; waves of cold and heat washed their way up and down her spine. She felt herself growing wet, felt him growing hard where his hips pressed against her belly. From just a kiss. But then, nothing could be further from "just a kiss" than this. She had expected fireworks when they finally got to this point; she hadn't realized it would be a nuclear explosion. Their simple, sweet New Year's kiss aside, this was a brand new thing for them, and her intent for another single, soft kiss had been abandoned as folly the moment their mouths met and fused together. Maybe they'd get back to single and soft after about a month of kisses like this. Because these kisses could be habit-forming. Low, wet sounds reached her ears as they kissed; their heads turned and twisted as they explored new angles. She learned the landscape of his mouth and lips with her own lips and tongue, mapping every corner into her memory as he did the same to her. Their hands seemed locked in place, hers on his neck, his at her waist, frozen either by the sheer wonder of this first true kiss, or by fear of going too far too fast. They'd already gone further than she had planned, but she wasn't about to back away. Not now; not after she'd had a taste of him, not after she knew what she'd been missing all these years. In the back of her mind, she was glad for the curb she was standing on that brought them closer to the same height, so they wouldn't have to move to relieve the pressure on her neck or his back. They could kiss like this for hours if they wanted to. The night air was cool against her suddenly overheated skin, and she shivered involuntarily. And then she shuddered as one of his hands broke free from its bonds and slipped to her back, pulling her more firmly against his body. She couldn't breathe. She didn't want to breathe. She just wanted to kiss him. But her lungs won the battle and she yanked her head back and gasped for air. Her eyes seemed to take forever to focus on him, and she saw he was in the same shape, mouth open, breathing harsh and ragged. She had to kiss him again. She dove for his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down to meet her. His arms crossed behind her waist and lifted her, just slightly, leaning her into him so she was off- balance and he was her support. She reveled in the feeling. She couldn't feel her feet, and it had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with him. In fact, she couldn't feel much of anything, except for the searing heat in the spots where they were touching. Most of the front of her body; her back, where his hands were splayed out; her arms, wrapped around him; her hands, pressed against him. And her mouth. Devouring him and being devoured, she let go of everything else. All other thought drifted away, leaving behind only the sheer wonder and pleasure of this kiss. The heat of his tongue branded her; the touch of his lips marked her forever. She would never be the same. And it took that thought to wrench her away. Breathing heavily, feeling the sweat at her hairline and the nape of her neck, she stepped back from him, pulling her hands away. He reached for her again, on instinct, she was sure, but she threw up a hand to hold him at bay. He paused, his hand hanging in midair like an afterthought, and then he crumpled before her eyes. For one heart-stopping instant, she thought she would have to catch him to keep him from hitting the pavement, but he managed to stay on his feet, albeit unsteadily. She sucked in a long, deep breath, swallowed firmly to moisten her suddenly dry throat, and spoke. "Don't, Mulder," she said firmly. "Don't think what you're thinking. I'm not about to lie to you and say this was a mistake. Not after that." She sensed the grin rising on his face before she saw it, and again cut him off. "And don't get smug, either," she said, her tone serious. "I know as well as you do that we made each other a promise three weeks ago. It doesn't matter that we didn't put it into words." She glanced around them, at the flashing lights a block away, at the milling crowds who ignored them in favor of the lurid spectacle of death and mayhem. "But we have a job to do here, and you know it as well as I do." She let out another breath and made conscious effort to soften her voice before he reacted badly. "But I'm making you a promise again, out loud this time," she said. "When we're done here, when everything's finished and we can leave, we'll go to my place and ... continue this. Wherever it goes." Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his trenchcoat, Mulder searched her face for a few long moments before he nodded slowly. "Okay," he said in a low voice. "Just ... I can't touch you, Scully. And you can't touch me. Not unless you have to, okay? I ... don't think I could deal with it ... professionally. Not right now." A tremor ran through her at his words, and she nodded quickly. "Okay," she said. "Okay." They studied each other silently, a few feet of concrete and air between them, and then, in unison, they turned and headed down the block. ========== Three hours later, they were still not quite finished. So many bodies, Scully thought, watching as the last of the fifty-three victims was zipped into a black bag and loaded into the medical examiner's van. Every pathologist within driving distance of the District was being asked to help with the autopsies, and she hadn't been spared. But because she'd already been on the case for days, and because she'd been working today for over twelve hours already, she'd been scheduled with a relief shift. When this van was gone and she checked in with the ASAC, she was free to go until noon the next day, nearly 14 hours away. She glanced around quickly, catching sight of Mulder standing with another agent near the front of the burned building where the bodies had been found. She could see the tension in his face and body even from a hundred yards away, and she didn't know if he'd be able to tear himself away from this. It had been so close; she didn't even want to think about how they had nearly become victims fifty-four and fifty-five. She sighed. Why did it always take destruction and mayhem to bring them together? She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times they'd just had fun with each other. A birthday celebration, a baseball lesson ... she shook her head. There had to have been more than that. Didn't there? She looked around again, this time searching out the ASAC; finding him in the crowd, she walked over and quickly spoke to him, getting the okay to leave. Then she headed for Mulder. He was listening intently to the other agent's words, all his attention seemingly on the other man, and yet she could see him turn just slightly in her direction as soon as she came within a few yards of them. She stopped near him, not quite close enough to touch him, and waited. Less than a minute later, the agent finished what he was saying, and Mulder thanked him, still giving no obvious sign that he knew she was there. But as soon as the other man turned away, Mulder pivoted to face her, and smiled. "You ready," he said, his voice light but expectant. She nodded. "All clear 'til noon tomorrow," she said, matching his tone. His eyes sparked, and she could follow his thought processes perfectly -- 14 hours away. Plenty of time for "wherever it goes." They turned again in tandem to head toward the car, and though they still didn't touch, he filled her consciousness. The need to hold him, to kiss him, welled up in her until she felt she would overflow with it, and she quickened her steps. The last thing she needed was to lose control in full sight of the dozen agents left at the scene. Mulder didn't question, simply kept up, and they were in the car and on their way in minutes. Mulder drove -- it was his car, after all -- and Scully carefully folded her hands together in her lap to keep them off of him, studiously avoiding looking at his hands where they gripped the steering wheel. And then she *did* look, and fought down a grin. He was white- knuckled, holding onto the wheel with all his strength, and she felt something inside of her loosen and relax. She had her evidence, clearly laid out before her; he was just as affected by this as she was. And somehow, knowing she wasn't alone in her feelings calmed her. The drive to her apartment lasted forever and was over in an instant. She was both surprised and relieved to see the familiar building come into sight, and she took another steadying breath as Mulder smoothly maneuvered the car into an empty space on the street. Somehow, she knew she should just sit and wait, rather than climbing out of the car immediately. Sure enough, Mulder shut off the car, got out, walked around to her side, opened her door, and held out his hand to her. She smiled and took it. ========== The second smartest thing she'd ever done in her life, Scully decided, was kissing Mulder again. They were warm and cozy this time, sitting close together on her sofa, and they were both laughing lightly at one of his dry asides when she lifted her face to kiss him. His mouth felt different this time, with their lips curved up into unaccustomed smiles. She liked it. A lot. Enough to do it again. And again. And again. When she surfaced, she was sitting in his lap, knees planted on the cushions on either side of his hips. Both her hands were laced through his hair, cradling his head; his gripped her ass, pulling her groin tight against his. The intimate contact had drawn a gasp from her mouth, breaking both the kiss and the spell she was under. She lowered her forehead to rest against his, willing her breath and heart rate to slow a little. She shifted her hips slightly, drawing a low groan from the man below her, and she grinned. He grinned back. How absurd, she thought. Here we are, wrapped together on my sofa like strands of DNA, and we're grinning at each other like idiots. When, exactly, did we regress to high school? Mulder's mouth closed briefly, and his licked his lips before he spoke. "I like that," he said, in voice shredded by desire. "You have a beautiful smile. I wish I could see it more." She couldn't help it; she smiled again. "The feeling is entirely mutual," she said, her lips brushing his as she spoke. She kept their kisses lighter this time, dipping and pulling back, then chuckling a little as his head darted and lunged toward her. She distracted him with her hands, sliding them from his shoulders to the center of his chest and starting on the buttons of his dress shirt. He pulled his head back as the first button slid free, and he sucked in a long, deep breath. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, fathomless and infinitely dark, and a deep shudder raced through her. His fingers flexed on her bottom, kneading her soft flesh gently as she worked his shirt open. Mission accomplished, she allowed herself another deep kiss, one hand gripping the back of his neck as the other slid under his shirt and up his back, fingernails scratching lightly through the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His hips thrust, involuntarily, she was sure, and she was once again pulled out of the kiss by her gasp. He didn't let up, though, thrusting up with purpose this time, and she moaned, her head dropping back. He moved one hand to her upper back and pulled her toward him, keeping up the rhythmic movements of his lower body as he licked and sucked his way across her neck, above the mock-turtleneck she wore. He stopped again, his hips stilling as he rested his forehead against her collarbone. Distantly, through the roaring in her ears, she became aware of the sound of their breathing, loud in the stillness of her apartment. She could still feel him pressed up between her legs, hard and warm even through the multiple layers of their clothing. She wished fleetingly that she possessed the telekinetic powers Mulder had suspected in their killer on this case. She would, of course, use her powers for good, and she couldn't think of much better than willing away their clothes and getting straight to the main event. For she felt sure there was to be a main event in their near future. Slowly, as if moving through molasses, Mulder lifted his head from her shoulder and met her gaze. He swallowed, shakily, and opened his mouth. "God, I want you," he rasped. She'd thought it was impossible for her to be more aroused than she was and still remain fully dressed. She'd been wrong. His husky whisper shot straight to her core and sent a shiver of pure desire out to the tips of her fingers and toes. She couldn't help it. She had to kiss him again. Their mouths clashed recklessly, wantonly, and she felt Mulder pull his hands away from her body. She started to reach for him, to get his touch back, but she realized he had a goal in mind. He grabbed his shirt and yanked, pulled the tail free of his pants, then leaned forward enough to tug the garment down his arms and toss it onto the floor. His hands came right back to her, cupping her jawline, and the kiss went on another few long minutes before he pulled back. Before she could react, even to follow his retreating mouth, he slid one arm around her waist and stood up, bending to catch her legs with his other arm. She yelped in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck in reflex as he carried her. He strode purposefully, moving them into her bedroom in just a few long steps, and he stopped beside the bed, grinned down at her, and tossed her onto the mattress. She landed with a bounce, throwing out her hands to steady herself, and stared up at him, open-mouthed with shock. Still grinning, he yanked his t-shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and got rid of his pants. She watched his brief striptease, frozen in place, and only reacted when he climbed onto the mattress on his hands and knees and crawled toward her. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively retreated, scrambling backward until her back touched the headboard. His grin was long gone, and he stalked her with all the feral intensity of any predator. He moved right up her body, encasing her with his long limbs, and paused with his mouth inches from hers. His tongue came out to lick his lips, as if in slow motion; her eyes fell shut, and she shuddered. His breath tickled her ear. "Do you want to do it, or should I?" he murmured. Hearing his familiar voice grounded her, helped her collect herself, and she took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she planted a palm in his chest and shoved, pushing him to the side. "I'll do it," she said. She climbed to her feet, turning to face him, and smiled, widely, almost lewdly. "You just sit back and watch." She took her time, drawing every movement out as long as she could, and she watched and catalogued his every reaction. Especially the growth of that bulge in his boxers. She'd seen him aroused, and she'd seen him naked and nearly so, but she'd never seen both before, and she was more than satisfied with her estimate of his size. She might be out of practice, but some things you just don't forget. When she was down to bare skin, she decided to give the teenager thing one more shot. Planting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head to one side and smiled. "See anything you like?" she asked lightly. Mulder's answer didn't surprise her, but his actions did. "Everything," he said, his tone reverent -- and then he jumped her. Literally. He leapt from the bed and grabbed her, tossing her back onto the mattress and then falling onto her with lips and hands flying. Before Scully quite knew what he was doing, he'd shoved her legs apart and was buried nose-deep in her, and all she could do was throw her legs over his shoulders and hang on, involuntary gasps and even curses escaping her mouth every few seconds. She was coming in minutes, hips thrusting, hands pulling at the sheets. But she didn't even give herself recovery time; the second he pulled away, she was shoving him onto his back, pushing down his boxers and guiding him into her. Only when he was all the way in did she look up at him again, reaching out her hands to grasp his. Fingers interlocked, they moved together, slower and easier now. He let her set the pace, and only soft exclamations and moans punctuated their rhythm. Her second orgasm lasted longer than the first, not as sharp but infinitely more satisfying. And when it was over, she slid off him, rolling them over and hooking her legs behind his back. He drove back in at her encouragement, pounding his way to completion as she urged him with hands and voice to go harder, deeper, faster. Her name came out like a horn blast as he climaxed, and she concentrated on both watching his face and milking him with her inner muscles, glad to be beyond concern for her own pleasure. She'd managed just one synchronized orgasm in her limited sexual history, and while she was sure she'd enjoy them sometimes, it was very nice to be able to watch instead. Especially when the person she was watching was Mulder. He put everything he had into everything he did -- well, everything that interested him, that is -- and sex would apparently be no exception. Now he was collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, and she soothed him with her hands and her mouth, sprinkling soft kisses along the side of his face and whispering nonsense and endearments. Her legs stayed right where they were, holding him inside her. Long minutes passed, and she was beginning to think he'd fallen asleep and started trying to figure out how to get his dead weight off of her. It was nice for a while, sure, but sooner or later he'd get too heavy. But he moved then, his head lifting slightly, rough cheek scraping against her smooth one, and he brought his mouth back to hers. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, and she felt her arousal begin to build again. She'd thought she was sated, but it appeared she'd underestimated just what this man could do to her. And what she could do to him, she realized; she could also feel *his* arousal building. He was still inside her, but his erection had never quite dissipated completely. She supposed the quick nature of their coupling had left him a little less than fully drained. Now, as they kissed again, his erection was returning, and she was quite impressed with his recuperative powers. He pulled away from the kiss, and she caught the look of surprise on his face, closely followed by a roguish grin that shot her own arousal up another notch. "Damn, I'm good," he murmured. "Or I am," she shot back, clamping down on him again and pulling a moan from deep in his throat. "Whatever," he ground out, thrusting once, hard. "We can share the glory." He took his time after that, moving so slowly that it almost hurt, every inch of him pressing against her swollen, oversensitized flesh. But his gentle pace built the sensations so slowly, so gradually, that it never quite crossed the line into pain. By the time he began to speed up his movements, her skin was tingling all over with alternating bursts of warmth and chills, and her throat was beginning to ache, a result of her near- constant moans and gasps. They were both drenched in sweat, and a brief thought that she'd need to change the sheets as soon as possible flew across her mind before it was swept away in the flood of the most intense orgasm she'd ever had in her life. It went on and on, one wave bleeding into the next until she thought she'd pass out from the extreme pleasure. And just as she was starting to come down, Mulder slammed into her one last time and let loose with a hoarse yell that set her off again. When she came back to awareness, they were lying on their sides, still wrapped together in the same position, as if Mulder had simply fallen over and dragged her with him. That was probably exactly what happened, she supposed; at least he'd had enough cognizance left not to fall asleep on top of her. Because he was asleep, breathing deep and even, eyes fluttering lightly under their lids. She wondered if maybe *he'd* passed out, as she so nearly did. After all, two orgasms in well under an hour wasn't the norm for any man, and especially not one Mulder's age. She grimaced a little as she worked her arms and legs free from him and pulled away. He'd already slipped out of her body, probably when they rolled to their sides, so she was left with only stiff muscles and sticky thighs to show for the best sex she'd ever had. Well, that and some outstanding memories. She grinned and reached for him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and feathering a kiss against his slightly-parted lips. Yes, she was sure now. Kissing Mulder *was* the smartest thing she'd done in her life. And she had no intention of giving up the habit. ==========END==========