CHEEKIES, IN THE SPRING By Jacquie LaVa and Avalon Category: MSR, Cheek-Fic , Humor Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: Originals work for a living; ours just live for sex "Cheekies, In the Spring" Part One **************** I love weekends. More specifically, I love weekends with my partner. Add the magic of a spring day, sunny and warm and heady with the smell of flowers in gardens all over the city - and I would say I'm a happy boy. In fact, only one thing could make me happier, on a warm and sunny spring Sunday... Yeah, you guessed it. Sex. Sex with my partner, to be exact. Now, let's add this together. It's Sunday. And it's spring. Early May, to be exact... May the fifth. Cinco De Mayo... Outside the window the day promises to be blindingly sunny and damned warm. Two other requirements - and when I open the window and breathe in the air, I can smell the fragrance of the lilacs and early roses in my landlady's small garden. A tiny plot of lawn in front of the building, nevertheless she loads it up every year, with annuals and perennials crowded together in a dizzying array of color. Okay. We have spring. We have sun and warmth. We have the tantalizing fragrance of flowers wafting on the breeze... What we don't have, is sex. Yet. But I'm about to remedy that... and in a manner I have been pining for, ever since May hit and floated into the year, as soft as my lover's cheekies. Which, as a matter of fact, are presently pointed to the ceiling and showcased in all their rosy perfection, without blankets to keep them warm. Scully sleeps on her tummy with her face buried in the pillow and every few seconds emits this endearing little snore. Well, this will never do... maybe it's early in the morning but it's just too gorgeous outside for a body to be sluggish and in bed asleep. Besides, as I mentioned already - all the ingredients for one hell of a fine Sunday are mine for the assembling. Including Scully's cheekies. I kneel carefully on the bed, bend over her snoring little self and run a palm over her tight little bottom, murmuring in her ear, "Baby, it's time to get up. Come on, it's a wonderful day outside. Let's play..." In response her body tries to bury itself deeper into the mattress and her voice, thickly-clogged with sleep, mumbles, "Go 'way. Sleepin'." I sigh in resignation and replace my hand with my mouth, trailing it over the same path as before, my tongue following along while beneath me I can feel her start to tremble. Trembling is good... With my hands under her hips I gently turn her over until she is peering with slitted and groggy eyes, up into my no doubt eager face. When I break into a grin, she groans and rasps out a 'loving', "Oh, shit. I thought I was dreaming that someone with this really wet tongue was slithering it all over my backside..." Her rude words are tempered with a very sweet kiss, pressed up and into my mouth, and I'm so in love with her at that moment that I don't even complain about her atrocious morning breath. We kiss lingeringly, and her hands slip over my shoulders and down over my chest, fingers plucking gently at my sensitive nipples. I send a groan into her open mouth and I can feel her smile, before she emits a huge yawn and about knocks me sideways with that breath. Scully chuckles and remarks, "Well, it serves you right, bothering me before I can get to a toothbrush." She ruffles a hand in my hair and adds, "So what's so all-fire important that you had to awaken me at the crack of dawn?" I shake my head at her blatant laziness. "Scully, it's already nine o'clock! We have to get moving or we'll be late!" She squints up at me in confusion. "Late for what? It's Sunday; we have absolutely nothing scheduled. We are not on a case. We have no meetings. No mutants to chase. No deviants to hunt down. We are completely and without question free as little birdies. And I don't know about you, but this little birdie wants to SLEEP IN." So saying she flips herself onto her tummy... and I as easily flip her right over - onto her back, again. And as she opens her mouth to give me hell, I lean in and cover it with mine. In between biting little kisses I inform her of my plans for us - on this fine spring day. "We're not sleeping in, baby. We're gonna pack a lunch - and go find a field somewhere in the country - and we're gonna plop ourselves down in the middle of it, and take off all our clothes - and fuck like Nature intended for man and woman to fuck. In the sunlight in the middle of the morning on a Sunday. Your cheekies, Scully... I want them. Out in the open." Her eyes get as big and rounded as two saucers, as she digests my words. Her jaw drops - and she gawks up at me - and she sputters, "WHAT THE - Mulder, what the hell kind of drug are you on?" ************** Never underestimate the persuasive powers of a man in love. An hour has passed since I first licked my partner's sweet-as-can be cheeks and informed her of the day's agenda. It took me roughly ten minutes of kissing, fondling and otherwise arousing various areas of Scully's delectable little body, before I was able to convince her that I wasn't high on anything but her. I don't think she completely bought it since she rolled her eyes at me and snorted in disgust - but at least she humored me. Another twenty minutes in the bathroom, for once hustling both of us through the wash and rinse routine, avoiding the usual playing we tend to do especially on the weekend when we can goof around longer than five minutes. I rushed us in and out and into clothes pretty damn fast. Scully sputtered some more but every time she opened that mouth to complain I promptly shut it with kisses. I think she finally got the idea... I crammed a bagel slathered with cream cheese into her hand and she sat at the kitchen table with food and drink while I bustled around the place packing last night's cold fried chicken and some potato salad into a cooler. I tossed in a half-full bottle of wine and a few beers as well, earning me one raised eyebrow and a sweetly uttered, "Planning to get me soused, Mulder?" I bared my teeth at her in a feral grin and kept on gathering picnic supplies. Ten minutes later we were in the car and on our way... About forty five minutes outside of DC, out on Route 626 and driving through Fauquier County, can be found rich farmland, picturesque farms... and fields. Lots of fields. With cows, no less. It's a nice drive, made even nicer by the added bonus of having my gorgeous woman sitting next to me with the wind coming in from the half-open window and blowing her hair about, one hand resting warmly on my thigh. A serene smile curves those sexy lips of hers and although her eyes are hidden by dark lenses I know she's got a glow in those baby blues. She can make sport of my efforts to combine Mother Nature and coitus all she wants but secretly I think she's very much titillated at the idea of doing it in broad daylight in Old MacDonald's field. As if reading my mind Scully glances my way and idly comments, "You know, Mulder... it's not as if we've never fucked outside. Dare I remind you of a night not long ago? You recall a storm and copious amounts of humidity? A bet that you lost? A hard screw up against a maple tree in the courtyard? Any of this ringing your bells?" Without taking my eyes from the road I grin and reach out one hand, unerringly finding her warm little denim-covered center and squeezing her there, loving the way she squirms against my hand as I reply, "Oh, yeah, baby - I have excellent recall. I remember. April was a hell of a month, wasn't it? Several very hot nights. An air conditioner that remains one serious piece of crap. I also seem to recall enough darkness and rain to successfully hide our nefarious act from the innocent eyes of the world at large. It doesn't count if there isn't at least more than a hint of danger, Scully - you know that." Her breathless retort owes everything to the heat of my hand working at her, teasingly. "Odd rules, Partner - coming from your distorted brain matter, I shouldn't even be listening..." But I can hear the smile in that subtle put-down - and I can feel her getting more and more damp - and I slow the car down, a lot - looking for the right field. Five minutes later, I find a dirt road stretching off toward what appears to be an abandoned farm - and I know I've hit the jackpot. I take a swift right and we bump our way down a narrow driveway that looks as if it hasn't seen any tire-action since the Depression. I park the car behind a dilapidated barn with gray weathered boards and no viable roof. All around us stretch fields, most sporting waist- high hay that has probably been waiting to be baled since World War II. Off in the far distance I can hear the soft lowing of cows and figure they are most likely from a neighboring farm and allowed to graze freely. Yep, I think we've found our fucking field - literally. When I voice that snappy little observation aloud, Scully groans and covers her face with both hands, muttering, "Oh, God. We'll be arrested for trespassing and public nudity and illegal coitus and who knows what else..." With a chuckle I hop out of the car and stride around to her side, yanking open the door and pulling my woman and our lunch out the front, pausing only long enough to snag the old bedspread I stuffed in the back seat. I drape it over her shoulder and guide her along, both of us struggling to walk in the tall grass. As I push her I assure, "Trust me, Scully - you'll thank me for this unique memory years from now when we're old and toothless and unable to do anything more deviant than gum each other's naughty bits - if in our senility we can even find them and remember what the hell they're good for." The sound of her delighted laughter echoes over the abandoned farm, and I am suddenly loving life, big-time. Away from the car and in the depth of dry hay, I spread our blanket. A lone oak tree towers nearby, full of twittering birds that I hope will keep their digestive juices to themselves. The sun is pounding on our heads and a little shade might be a good thing, but for now I relish the feel of that heat on my back as I sink upon the soft old blanket and pull Scully down beside me. Her eyes dart all around, searching for voyeurs, no doubt - and her voice is wary in the extreme as she watches me yank my gray tee shirt over my head. "Mulder... this isn't really a good idea. I don't for one minute think this farm is completely abandoned - what about those cows?" Her worried gaze locks on a small herd of Jerseys, munching hay like no tomorrow. Far enough away for them to ignore us - and with our presence barely registering a smell - I don't see any reason for concern and I point that out to my paranoid partner. "Scully, they're not going to bother us - and they're not indicative of habitation. I didn't see a single fence coming in; those bovines are probably just roaming freely. They're too busy chowing down to care what we do." I reach out and tug at her tank top, adding, "Come on. Relax. Enjoy the day - the sun - the sight of my bare manly chest..." I lean back on my hands and thrust my pecs upwards, waggling my eyebrows at her. I'm acting like a total idiot, all for the sole purpose of making my woman crack a smile. The things I do for love... I squint up at Scully, waiting for it. And finally, I get a chuckle out of her in reaction to my goofiness. Finally, she relaxes next to me. She even leans in and kisses my mouth lightly, brushes her fingers over my chest, her teasing touches causing me one hell of an instant hard-on. But I resist grabbing her and pulling her beneath me; I resist tearing at her clothes. I want to watch her lose all of her inhibitions; want her to rip off those tight jeans and fling away that cute little pink tank top. Want her to love the feel of the hot sun heating up her bare little cheekies... The same way I plan on heating them. A few minutes later Scully is snuggled in my arms and we're on our sides face to face, soft kisses between our lips and bare skin against our palms. In the sunlight her hair catches fire and her tongue is wet and hot, everywhere it touches me. Perspiration glistens on her shoulders and when I kiss one of them the salt of her skin is delicious. I lick at her, as she shudders in my arms and her hips press into me. Hey, with all of this heat pouring over me I figure I'll need extra salt to keep up my energy level - that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. Speaking of sticking... I think it's time to shed the rest of our sweaty apparel. I slip a hand into the waistband of Scully's jeans and pop a button or two, and she squeaks out a breathless, "Mulder, not yet! Someone may be watching!" Her eyes dart about again and I grin reassuringly at her as I undo two more buttons. "Baby, nobody's watching! You're already topless, what's the difference now? Here, I'll even go first." I transfer my busy fingers to my own jeans and in a few seconds have stripped down to navel lint and one impressive woody, if I do say so myself. Scully gapes at my uninhibited display, then huffs out a resigned laugh. "Mulder... it's not the same! You'd become a nudist if you could figure out a way to carry a concealed weapon and your badge; you've got the makings of a true hedonist. I, on the other hand... I'd rather show a bit more modesty." Scully starts re-buttoning her jeans and I casually knock her hands away and quickly unbutton them again, rolling her onto her back and tugging them off while she sputters and squirms. To no avail, I might add... for I finally get them off and now all that stands between me and those lovely cheekies is a pair of pale blue bikini panties and a blush... Two seconds later only the blush remains. Some time ago, during one of our first lovemaking sessions, I discovered something very interesting about Dana Scully, besides the sheer beauty of her when she's naked in my arms. I found out that she loves to be licked. All over. For some reason she has always been fascinated by my tongue and once told me she imagined it could do push-ups because of its obvious muscular strength owing to my constant sunflower seed manipulation. At the time I thought it was hilarious and I'd merely laughed, but after an erotic night romp in a bath full of bubbles and a bottle of champagne that I had poured over her body afterward and licked off, drop by drop... I realized that I could probably talk Scully into anything if I trickled liquid refreshment over her and licked it off. Now, months later on this fine spring Sunday, when she sees my hand reach into the cooler and pull out the bottle of wine, her eyes widen and she warns, "Mulder... don't get any bright ideas..." Too late, baby - I've already got them. *********** "Ooooohhh, God... Mulder..." Mm-mmm... Can life get any better? I think not. The sun beats down on my back as I curve myself over Scully and my mouth smiles against her as I drink wine from her damp skin. I pour a little into her navel, and sip at it. She shivers. I trickle a tiny stream of it between her breasts and lap it up with a thirsty tongue. She moans softly. I moisten each berry-pink nipple and cleanse them both of alcoholic beverage... and her hands clasp my head and hold me there while my mouth caresses and worships. She's delicious... sweeter than any wine and twice as heady. Down over her soft curls, wine that's just a shade or so darker gets dribbled until it soaks in, wetting her thoroughly - wetting the soft flesh underneath. I set down the bottle and slip both hands under her hips, ignoring her breathless, "Mulder!" - and I dive in, mouth- first. Jesus, she tastes incredible. Wine-tart and musky and just so damn Scully... my mouth is starving for her and I hold nothing back as I nip and lick, rake my teeth gently over that cute little clit and then bury my tongue, so deep. I can feel her hips bucking in my hands. I can smell her excitement, it surrounds me. I can hear her broken moans and that's what gets me, most of all... "Mul - ohhh, Jesus, I can't - you... don't you fucking stop, Mulder...!" If I could bear to stop for one tiny second I'd tell her how amazing she is. I'd tell her how wild she makes me and how flat-out proud I am that she loves me, trusts me enough to lie naked in the middle of a field in front of God and a herd of Jerseys and that farmer standing on that small rise just above us, leaning on a hoe... Wait a minute. I raise my eyes a little, not enough to dislodge my mouth from its current task but enough to take a better look. Shit... a farmer. Standing close enough to observe quite a bit of what we're doing, in the waist-high grasses of what I suppose has to be his field. I squint a little, thinking that maybe he's not watching us, maybe he's just out here leaning on a goddamn hoe, enjoying the cow-pies and the sun... But I know better. Hell, if the positions were reversed and I got a chance to observe something like this... of course I'd fucking watch. Well, this is just dandy. I'm at a loss, for what to do. There's no way I can stop, not now. I'm hard and aching and that's not going to change just because some strange old fart is watching. Most men could care less if someone watches them - that's a fact. And I'm your average guy, I suppose - because my body sure doesn't give a flaming rip. My cock doesn't want anything except to be buried inside the woman I love. But the selfish and Neanderthal male inside me also doesn't want that same old fart seeing my woman's bare beauty... so I carefully release Scully from my hungry mouth and I move up her body, trailing kisses, then cover her completely, slipping into place between her gorgeous thighs. As much as I wanted her to come in my mouth, I know I'd rather have Farmer John up there gawking at my ass instead of any part of Scully. I stare down into her face, seeing a soft smile and blue eyes that hold a wealth of love and desire for me; feel her hands on me, urging me closer; hear the rasp of passion in her voice when she moans my name. Our gazes lock as I slip inside her, so wet and ready for me - and I kiss her deeply, swallowing her gasp, loving the way her legs coil around me. She feels so good... I can almost forget the audience of one that we have, staring down at us. Almost, but not quite. Scully doesn't know we're being watched and I want so much for her to come, without reservation... and if I have anything to do with it she'll come very hard and she'll never know she was part of the old geezer's future wet dream. But she is sure as hell gonna know she's an active participant in my current real-time fantasy... Now I'm thrusting deeper, my hands clenched in Scully's soft red hair, the sun burning at my back and frying my ass. I can feel her hands cupping my balls, holding them tightly, just the way I love them to be held. Consequently all of the blood in my big head has flowed south and now resides in the little head... I have forgotten all about the country-bumpkin voyeur leaning on his hoe, I have forgotten about the cows and the birds in the oak tree just waiting to bomb us with bird shit... I have forgotten everything but the wonder of Scully as she pushes up against me, breasts pressing into my sensitive skin, opening herself further to me, her body tightening around me, her climax a foregone conclusion - I can feel myself tightening as well, and I am so damn close... I am pumping faster, egged on by the way she trembles, accompanied by sweet gasps and raw moans - both of us, almost there - When suddenly Scully begins sneezing. **************** Part Two (Avalon's Scully!) *************** I try to hold it back, but I just can't. I let it rip, and I think I practically blow Mulder's poor head off. It would be nice if I was talking about an earth-shaking orgasm, but I'm not. This fucking hay is stirring up my allergies, and as much as I am enjoying the feel of Mulder's fantastic ministrations all over my humming body, I can't keep the attack at bay. I sneeze once, all over his shoulder, and then a succession of them jar the two of us like machine-gun fire. They are so violent I somehow manage to dislodge Mulder from his comfortable spot between my legs, and I hear him curse as he closes his eyes and ducks away from me. "Jesus, Scully!" He wipes a hand over his shoulder, his face a cute grimace of distaste. "I'm all for swapping bodily juices with you, baby, but this is ridiculous." My eyes are watering so badly that I can barely see him. I blink the tears out onto my cheeks and scowl good-naturedly. "Well, if you weren't so cranked up to fuck in the middle of a hay field, Mulder, you might have remembered that I have terrible seasonal allergies." I start to sit up, reaching to my right to find his jeans. "Where are your pants? You've got a handkerchief in your front pocket, right?" His hands spring up to my shoulders, and he holds me down against the blanket. "Here, Scully, don't get up. I'll get it for you." He keeps one hand on my collarbone while he fumbles in his 501s and finally extracts a neat square of white linen. He dabs the tears from my cheeks with a corner of it and then lets me take it. I eye him momentarily and then swat at his restraining hand. "Mulder, I have to sit up to blow my nose. It's not going to work otherwise." "Scul..leee," he whines, and I see his eyes dart over my head for a split second. Understanding dawns in my sex-sated mind, and I cock my head, giving him my very best sympathetic look. It takes all my resolve not to turn onto my belly underneath him and look to see who or what is in the field above us, watching our sun-streaked cheekies doing the wild thing in earnest. I don't move, though. I don't want to spoil this for Mulder. He dragged my lazy ass out of bed with caresses and kisses, packed us a delicious lunch, and purposefully wore his tightest jeans and his oldest, clingiest t-shirt, knowing that just the sight of him in that outfit would ignite a desire for him deep in my center. He has cajoled and teased and been so goddamned endearing all morning that I just can't bear to stop this rampant display of hedonism now, even if this year's whole graduating class from Quantico is standing on that rise. Mulder thinks I'm shy. And my brilliant partner is very rarely wrong about most things... but I'm about to prove to him, once and for all, that although he has me pegged as this soft, demure damsel, Dana Scully is actually an exhibitionist at heart. See, he really has affected me, in the best way possible. I never would have allowed any of my previous lovers to nail me in the courtyard of my apartment building up against a tree, let alone in the middle of a field on a clear, blue Sunday with the possibility of anyone moseying past at any minute. But with Mulder, it's different. He brings something out in me, something wild and child-like and absolutely foreign, but something that makes me feel more alive than I ever have in my life. He loves me with the same relentlessness that he pursues aliens and serial killers, but with an abandonment that he reveals only when we are alone. It is a sight to behold, I must say, the privilege of seeing him unravel in bed... and it's intoxicating. The more times we make love, the more I want him. And now today, coupled with the heady spring air, the heat that hovers above our bodies like a swarm of bees, and the unbridled look of lust that's plain on his face... well, what can I say? I want more. I want it to last all afternoon. And I'm not about to let some voyeur break the mood. Or keep me from doing what I want to Mulder... and boy, do I want it. So I manage to sit up, turning my head slightly to blow my nose in his hanky. I drop my eyes and peer through my lashes, noting the figure standing on the hill behind us, who bears an absurd resemblance to the farmer in 'American Gothic', but with a hoe instead of a pitchfork. I can't see his face, but I imagine he must be ready to blow his own gasket, considering the way Mulder was pumping into me just minutes before. I figure I might as well give the old fart his money's worth. I hide a smile as I fold the handkerchief over in my hand and tuck it under the corner of the blanket. When I turn to look at my own 'Nature Boy', I can see Mulder's face has whitened, thinking that I have spied our silent observer, but I decide to play dumb. Like I said, I'm not letting anything spoil the mood now. I am way too turned on by the whole scenario to put on the brakes at this point. I plant my hands on Mulder's shoulders and push him down onto the blanket, knowing that this surprise move has made him pliant. I slide one leg over his hip and hitch myself onto his lap, fingering the engorged member awaiting me there. Mulder chuffs out a surprised gasp, and I smile down at him. "Now, where were we?" His hands splay over my breasts, but I can tell it's more to shield them from the farmer's eyes than to excite the two of us. "Scully, what are you doing? I thought you were... enjoying things... the way they... um... the other way." His voice trails off in worried confusion and I have to bite back a chuckle. I cover his hands with my own and coax his fingers to knead my nipples. His eyes widen, and I can feel his cock swell and bump against the inside of my thigh. "I was," I answer in a low murmur, rubbing my damp center against his bobbing erection. "But I need a change of scenery now." He shudders and tweaks the peak of a breast nice and hard, forgetting himself for a moment. But then his nervousness returns, and he tries to pull me in close to his chest. "There's really nothing to see, baby. Just a few old cows - " "And one old goat on the hill," I interject. I shift against his cock again, running it between my wet folds, but Mulder goes rigid, and it's not from passion. I laugh and lean over to kiss him, all slippery-rough tongue, and leave him gasping when I break it. He just stares at me, his eyes wide and confused, and I chuckle again. "Mulder, quit worrying about it. I know we have company. And I don't care." He blinks. "You don't?" "At this point, I wouldn't stop screwing you if a spaceship landed on that hill. I have plans, and no one is going to mess them up." A gleam ignites in his eyes. "Plans?" he repeats. His voice is a sandpapery growl. "Oh yes." I reach between us again, thumbing the head of his cock, sitting back to rub it between my legs. I know he can feel the wetness there, and he grits his teeth, a smile snaking across his face. "What're you going to do to me?" There is a distinct challenge in his question, and I smile as I scoot down his body, positioning myself in the V of his legs. "A better question would probably be, what am I NOT going to do to you." I take his cock into my mouth, and he watches, his chest heaving as he tries to stay still. I wink at Mulder and then glance over to the ridge behind us. The farmer is still there, and if I'm not mistaken, he is leaning a bit more heavily on that hoe, probably from that load he's got chafing him between those scrawny legs... I slide my mouth all the way down Mulder's cock, sucking my cheeks in, and as I come up again, I put my hand up in the air. As I push myself again to a sitting position and straddle my lover's lap, I shake the hair out of my face, lock eyes with Old McDonald, and wave. I hear Mulder laugh, but I am too busy impaling myself on his hot cock to really notice. It feels incredible, and I lose myself in the delight of him, the absolute and indescribable euphoria of fucking Mulder. **************** When I wake up, the sun has moved, and our make-out spot is actually shaded by the burgeoning young leaves of the old oak tree. I roll over onto my back and wiggle my toes, which are peeking from the end of the blanket. Mulder must have thrown it over me when I fell asleep, probably afraid I might get sunburned. I file that away in my mind as one more of his sweet gestures and squint around, wondering where he is. And what trouble he might be getting into. The hay is too long, so I sit up, and I spot him standing on the rise behind the tree, very near to where our farmer friend made his lookout. The sun is behind him, casting him in a silhouette, one that makes my heart beat faster. He is wearing nothing but his jeans, and they ride low on his slim hips, hugging the shape of his ass and the bulge of his crotch perfectly. He is staring off down the slope of the hill, and the breeze picks up his hair, chasing it around his head and making him look like a schoolboy. A damn sexy schoolboy. I lick my lips, feeling the fire start to stir in me again. As if he can feel my gaze, he turns to me, and I can see a smile light up his face. He motions to me, the universal signal of "Come here," and I stand, gathering the blanket around my naked body in a kind of sarong. He holds his hand out to me and pulls me up the short grade, gathering me up to his side. He runs his lips over my hair, smoothing it down. I grin up at him, feeling sleepy and sated and happier than a clam. "What're you doing up here?" I ask softly, somehow afraid to talk too loud and break the spell that seems to pulse around us. His smile widens and he nods across the field. "Getting some pointers, I think." I follow his look with my own eyes. Across a hay field much like the one behind us, under a similar tree, I spot two bodies tangled in a knot. The man is on top, his skinny, wrinkled cheekies pointed toward us, and he is hammering gleefully away at the woman beneath him. I cover my mouth with my hand and stifle a laugh, noticing the faded overalls hanging from the familiar hoe that now stands propped against the tree. Mulder laughs quietly with me, rubbing my shoulders through the thin fabric of the blanket. "I guess we inspired him, Scully." I nod and reply, "Lucky for Mrs. McDonald. I'll bet her willy hasn't been whetted like that in a long time." He chuckles into my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine and straight into my own 'willy'... I turn to him and pull his head down to me, pressing an urgent kiss to his lips. When I have made a thorough inspection of his mouth, I say, "Thanks, Mulder. This was a really great idea." He waggles his eyebrows at me. "It's not too late in the day, Scully. Are you up for another round of outdoor fun?" "Bring it on, Nature Boy. I never get enough of these." I squeeze his ass playfully and dash down the hill, pulling the blanket up above my ankles to avoid a spill. He lunges after me, and I make sure to let him catch me, relishing the feel of his hard body as he peels the blanket away from me. Ah, Spring. I think it's my favorite season of the year. ***End***