TITLE: MISTLETOE KISSING ON NEW YEAR'S EVE AUTHOR: JACQUIE LAVA RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: MSR CLASSIFICATION: HUMOR KEYWORDS: SCULLY POV, SMUT COOKIE Disclaimer: Uh-Uh, I cloned them. Chris can't have them. And let him get his own mistletoe... Spoilers: Nope. This is a universe of my own making, so there is no eighth season at all, much less a Mulder abduction or even much of Season seven. In this smut-cookie there is only De Love... AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's New Year's... they deserve some fun! SUMMARY: In their new-found intimacy Mulder is teaching Scully how to play... and she's such an apt pupil... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX "... So what do you think? Would you like that?" I propped the phone against one shoulder and managed to free up four fingers to squeeze out the excess chamomile from my teabag, and focused on his words just enough to realize that I... "...Don't know where we're going yet... how can I know what to wear if I don't know where we're going?" Made sense to me, if not to a man... I mean, you can't leave the house in just anything; the clothes should match the place, especially on a night like this. Of course I would jump at the opportunity to be with Mulder on New Year's Eve - I just needed a few more details. His retort in my ear was actually no surprise, considering what I'd been learning about him lately. "Wear? As in clothes? Who says we're gonna need clothes?" I could almost see his eyebrows waggling as his voice breathed that bit of sin across the phone lines, and the little rough catch in his voice made me shiver even though I was sitting in front of a roaring fireplace. And without prodding him for any additional information, I suddenly knew what sort of New Year's evening I was in for... Whoo Boy. When I threw my hat in the ring alongside my partner's just a few short weeks ago, I should have known what sort of twist my life was going to take. After several false starts and a lot of unresolved tension between us; of coming so close, only for one or the other of us to drop the ball... we crossed that invisible line. We'd surrounded ourselves with it for almost seven years, 'circling the wagons', more or less... and once we dissolved it there was no going back to any semblance of a sedate, uncomplicated life, at least for me... You see, my partner, Fox Mulder is - for want of a better term - catnip for women. And he doesn't even know it. The man is the most unaware creature on the face of this earth - unaware of his power over not only women, but men as well. Oh yes - I am not blind. I have seen the way both sexes look at him. Men who would never in a million years figure they could be attracted to their own gender - I have seen utter shock on the faces of a few of them when they realize... the exact moment they do. It happened just a few days ago, as a matter of fact, and the poor guy about ran into another shopper at the supermarket; his cart almost overturning as well. Mulder, intent on choosing just the right cucumber, never saw a thing - but I did. And I smothered a smile of sympathy, for I'd been in the same sort of mad flux for years. In my case however - I'd never fully understood what was going on. I only knew that close proximity to my partner caused havoc within me, and in my well-organized life, inner havoc was the last thing I figured I'd be needing. The day it hit me, really hit me - well, that's a day I will never forget. Sitting innocently at the desk, flipping through sites on my laptop, minding my own damn business, I might add... waiting for Mulder to get back from the corner deli with my morning bagel. A normal beginning for a normal middle of the week, and because we'd just finished with one case and hadn't started on another yet, that meant it was even more of a normal day. I wasn't anywhere near to being in the throes of PMS, 'Biological-Clock-Ticking', or any other weirdly female event... just a normal day. Then I heard the elevator ding and through the open door I saw Mulder walking down the hallway with a bag in one hand and a cardboard coffee tray in the other... and there was something about his loose, comfortable strut; the way he put one foot in front of the other while balancing a full tray of hot liquid - the way his head tilted a bit to one side as he looked up from the tray and caught my stare and grinned that sweet lopsided grin at me. If a sledgehammer had socked me between the eyes it would not have surprised me more. My heart stopped beating just long enough to make me gasp aloud for life-giving blood to begin pumping anew through my starved arteries. In one shortly blinding second I summed up many things in my life that before this moment had not made any sense to me but now slapped me hard across the face - all centering around the sheer power of one Fox Mulder, and what I had not noticed before, not like this: Thick soft hair, the most perfect shade of dark chocolate...hazel eyes to die for, framed by eyelashes that would be the envy of most women... lips just begging to be bitten, then soothed with kisses. And inside that luscious mouth... a tongue that had to be strong enough from years of working sunflower seeds, to do pushups in all the most interesting places. Add all this wonder to a body that wouldn't quit, those supple muscles covered by silky hot skin and a tan that I would bet money went on forever...not to mention the sexiest neck in the world. And hands... Oh, my... hands. I couldn't think of anything else to add to make them more desirable - just hands. Long fingered, slender-strong- tender hands. On my body those hands would be lethally compelling - God... Mulder's hands. On me; on my body - I think I whimpered in my seat, as I watched Mulder walk toward me. As I said, lethal especially when combined with the inner man I knew... a personality that screamed confident, alluring man, whether or not he knew this about himself; top that with a quirky sense of humor... and kindness abounding - and there he was. Fox Mulder. My catnip... Later I would ask myself why on earth my lust-O-meter would choose that particular moment to start a tap-dancing dervish deep inside, when throughout our seven years I'd been on the receiving end of nothing more strenuous than a gentle waltz or two. Even at the height of what I would deem 'sexual awareness' of each other, I'd never had it pound me like this. And all I could do was struggle to keep up with the rapidly spinning rhythm beating quadruple-time in my poor underworked heart. By the time he'd reached the office door and walked through, I was in such a puddle that if I'd had to stand for any reason I would have actually dripped. His eyebrows drew together in an inquiring line as I sat there staring mutely up at him. He laid the bag and the tray on my desk and walked over to me, already putting out a hand to my forehead as he spoke. "Scully... you okay? Not running a fever, are you?" His hand touched my forehead... paused there a moment before sliding down the side of my hot cheek, and cupping it gently... And I lost it, fully lost it. I jumped to my feet so quickly that I knocked over a stack of files on the corner of the desk; my face flamed in what had to be one serious shade of red. Mulder's eyes widened as they looked into mine, and I could not break that contact, I just couldn't - and I knew that all the newly-discovered secrets of my heart had to be laid bare, in my eyes. I backed away from him; backed up until I felt myself hit the wall - and I saw a sudden, dawning smile encompass his handsome face; saw him move toward me slowly, so slowly. When his deep, low voice rumbled out one soft, longing-filled, "Scully..." I knew I was doomed. Utterly, completely doomed... catnip, God help me. I crammed my body into the wall, trying ineffectually to squeeze myself smaller - figuring that if he couldn't pry me out of the sheet rock then I'd be safe. Safe from what, I already knew - deep inside where the crazed dancing of my adrenaline had reached its peak. Safe from those compelling eyes of his and those slender, sexy hands; that equally-sexy body and the pure scent of him, coming off in waves and engulfing me. Safe from the most tempting mouth in the world; safe from that afore-mentioned tongue. Safe from having to admit what I was experiencing had to be more than basic lust, because I had survived dry spells before... and though I knew just how long this particular dry spell had been, still I pushed back into the wall. Actually, I could have been intimately involved with another man, all this time... and still it would have been a dry spell for me; dry because it wasn't Mulder. All the shrinking I tried to accomplish didn't help... he kept on coming. Right up to me, within a small hair of me - bending down into my face, eyes swallowing me whole; Mulder hadn't laid a finger on me beyond one hand cupping my cheek, and my entire body felt as if he'd licked it all over. I could only imagine what he was seeing in my unblinking eyes; I watched fascinated as his hazel orbs went from river-clear to smoky-dark, the pupils dilating and the lids dropping as if too heavy to support the weight of those eyelashes. Both of his hands reached out and palmed themselves on either side of my head, trapping me against the wall. Unnecessary, because by then I was so frozen in place that I couldn't have moved if the building was burning to the ground. He leaned down and into me; the heat of him soaking into my suit and eating through to my very skin. My heart beat so fast that it was making me dizzy; I had to almost cross my eyes to keep him in focus - and still he leaned in. Until his nose was touching mine; until the upper part of his body was pressed against me and his elbows touched the wall along with his hands... until that lush mouth was a breath away from tasting mine... And his rasp of a voice broke over me in one long shudder. "Tonight, Scully - eight o'clock. Don't even think about not being home when I come over. I'll bring dinner - and we'll eat - and we'll talk. About this. Okay?" Those hooded eyes bore down into mine and I didn't want to agree; didn't want to nod yes. Nodding yes meant that I wanted it; wanted the catnip. Wanted to roll in it as any feline would beg to roll; wanted to become dependent upon the emotions garnered from another human being. Wanted to give it up, that last free piece of myself; the piece I had selfishly hoarded for so long that I had almost forgotten there was any other way to live. I didn't want to nod. I would die if I didn't nod. The rest of the day had gone by in a haze; after Mulder had exacted that nod from me and a weak-as-a-kitten, "Okay..." - he'd pushed slowly away from the wall, his bottom lip barely grazing mine - and had walked to the desk and opened the bag and handed me a bagel, the sweetly hot smile on his face the only indication that anything out of the ordinary had occurred between us. He had me so confused and so achy by then that I swear I didn't know which end was up. And I understood why he'd stopped, obviously I did - after all, we were at work. Anyone could walk in. And I was amazed at my utter lack of concern; that I could be rendered that disoriented by nothing more than a sudden sexual awareness of my partner. Deep inside I knew it was much more than that, of course - but I was still in denial, you see. Until the moment he knocked on my door at precisely eight o'clock that evening, I was in denial. The details of that evening are still a little foggy, when I look back on it. I remember walking to the door and opening it wide; recall the way Mulder's eyes raked over me as he stood there with bags of fragrant Italian take-out in his hands. I backed up and he moved forward; I think he made it far enough into the apartment for the door to close and the food bags to hit the floor, before his hands reached out and yanked me up tight against him - and I stopped breathing and functioning as Dana Scully, and began a whole new existence as nothing more complicated than, 'Woman'. Make that 'Woman With Catnip'... So here it is, New Year's Eve - and I am not dressing. Strange. I don't even mind that I wasted three hundred dollars on a new dress to wear. I assumed we'd go out someplace to dinner, then maybe drinks and dancing. Someplace with noise-makers and silly hats and lots of spiked eggnog and even some mistletoe hanging over a doorway. Maybe the band would suck canal water, but we'd be too drunk on booze and each other, to care. Maybe we'd dance; maybe not - maybe we'd just sit in a dim corner booth somewhere and kiss - and touch - and drive each other so insane that we wouldn't even wait until midnight to get the hell out of there and find our way to the nearest apartment. Maybe we'd not even bother to get up on New Year's Day to watch the stupid parade; we'd be too sore. I look at the dress I bought and won't wear, displayed on the edge of the bed. It's silky and clinging and daring and dangerous; completely the opposite of me - and I love it. But I don't feel any resentment at all that I won't get to be seen in public wearing it; someday I'll need a dress like that and when I do, it'll be waiting for me. It's more important to be dressed properly for the evening to come; the evening Mulder has planned for us. This occasion calls for some serious dressing down - and that's exactly what I did. I dressed down. Boy, did I ever. I finish the last touching up of my hair as the doorbell rings; one last look in the mirror as I fumble with the belt of my robe - and I head to the door. My stomach is fluttering madly. I am assuming a hell of a lot, based on a few husky-voiced teasing words uttered into my ear while I was drinking a mug of tea. Mulder can be unpredictable and almost too playful, given full reign over a situation and allowed to do his worst. I could open the door and find him in full formal gear, with a corsage of roses and dinner reservations at the swankiest place in the city. Or I could find upon opening the door a Mulder dressed from head to foot in black leather with a rented Harley revving up outside... in the last few weeks he's surprised me more than once. But this time - if I read him right - maybe he'll be the one surprised. I face the door and count to five, then reach for the knob and pull it open... to find Mulder standing there in his best trenchcoat; the charcoal gray silk. Wearing a dazzling smile and holding out a gorgeous bouquet of deep red roses; I look him up and down, finding the sight in front of me incredibly pleasing. Belted and buttoned into the coat, a pair of what appears to be black khaki slacks breaking over the tops of his shoes; I smile at him and Mulder smiles back. He hands me the roses and steals a delicious kiss from me as I move out of the doorway and let him in. And as I shut the door behind him and take a huge sniff of the heavenly blooms I murmur to him, "Take your coat off and stay awhile, Mulder..." With a low chuckle nearby my ear as I turn to face him, Mulder begins to maneuver me around so that my back is to the bedroom door, and advances on me as I retreat, unbuttoning and unbelting his coat as he replies. "Don't mind if I do, Scully." And something in his voice makes me concentrate more on his face than on the flowers I still admire, and I feel my jaw drop as I watch him unbutton his last button - and open the coat - and let it slip from his shoulders... and it's all I can do not to fall backwards over the bed, laughing. Underneath his elegant trench, Mulder is starkly, gloriously naked... except for the cut-off legs of a pair of black khakis tied on each of his legs, covering him from the knees down to the tops of his shoes. My eyes meet his as I clap a hand over my mouth to hold in the giggles, and as I let go of my loosely wrapped bathrobe, it falls open... and Mulder gasps, then his shout of laughter about rattles the glass in the windows... and that's when I remember what I'd worn for him underneath the robe; what I had agonized over him seeing when I was unsure about his state of dress. I don't think I have to worry anymore... The thin silver chain I fastened around my waist, from which dangles a sprig of mistletoe strategically falling over my curls, assures me that I am at least as snappily-undressed as Mulder. Both of us slide to the floor side by side up against the bed, laughing our fool heads off. Just when I get a grip on it I look over at him; at the silly cut-off legs of what I recognize to be one of his nicer pair of khakis. And I lose it all over again. I can't believe he ruined a good pair of pants just to amuse me... so sweet of him. In between giggles I let him know how much I appreciate his thoughtfulness. "Mulder, you are one sick little duck, you know that? You killed your pants just to make me laugh... I appreciate the effort, I really do." I crawl over to where he's sitting in a limp heap, wiping at his eyes; he seems to be torn between watching the mistletoe swinging back and forth on its chain, and my breasts swaying in matched time. Whatever you like, Mulder - just don't move until I can reach you... I put out a hand still damp with my own tears of laughter and Mulder grabs at it, pulls me close and wraps his arms around me, heaving me onto the bed as easily as if he'd lifted a feather. Coming up after me, he rolls me underneath him, then proceeds to gaze lustily at every inch of me starting at the mistletoe which just happened to land right where it was supposed to when my back hit the mattress - right over my curls. He slides a finger or two under the chain and makes the sprig bounce on me, before he deigns to reply. "Actually, Scully - this was the only way I could think to walk around in public without getting arrested for lewdness. I had to stop by and pick up the flowers, and I had a feeling I wouldn't find a parking spot very close to your building - and I didn't. So I had a very good excuse for tying cut-off pants on my legs..." He flicks at the mistletoe nestled against me and one fingernail 'accidentally' strokes underneath, causing me to gasp. His mischievous grin is wide as he adds, "So what's your excuse, hmmm? I mean, I had a good one for my get-up, but I can't for the life of me figure out why it would be important for you to be walking around in your apartment wearing nothing but mistletoe and a smile..." I am caught in that hazel gaze of his again, willingly - seeing those lips inching closer and closer, knowing the exact moment I feel his breath on my mouth, that a kiss is merely one touch away. Wanting it so badly... needing it more than anything... except my mouth is not where I'd first imagined I'd want to feel that breath, if you get my drift... So I manage to reach out one hand and wind fingers through his hair, tugging his head back until I can look into his eyes as my response to him leaves him in no doubt as to the desired location of this first kiss. "Mulder... later on you can explain to me just why you deemed it necessary to venture outside your apartment dressed as a flasher... right now I think it's more important that you honor the true tradition of mistletoe." I watch him formulate a smile of polite inquiry, as if he doesn't already know what comes next... "Which would be...?" His voice has grown husky and the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine as I whisper the answer into the small space between our bodies. "That whatever you find underneath the mistletoe is what gets kissed, Mulder... so I'd highly recommend you get busy." With that, I gently push at his head until with an exaggerated sigh of resignation and a muttered, "If I must..." - Mulder obligingly slides down into the proper position, carefully lifts the sprig - and kisses me. Oh, God... be careful what you demand of your lover on New Year's Eve, for you just may very well get more than you bargained for. That first kiss has me forgetting not only what day it is but my name, my badge number and most of the English alphabet. We've been together four weeks and I'm just learning to ask for what I want; to accept that I have a right to be demanding - and that sex can be as playful as it is erotic. It took a lot of courage to strip naked and tie a sprig of mistletoe around my waist, based on nothing more promising than a casual remark from Mulder. For me, sex and play was never practiced together. Until Mulder I didn't really know that making love could be anything more than a way to release tension from the body - if I was lucky enough to even achieve the release. Four weeks - and my life is upside down; four weeks of loving, and being loved by, one Fox Mulder. Both of us finding out just how needy we were, after years of voluntary celibacy. Both of us discovering a side to ourselves we never knew; those unknown sides meshing so well together that it feels as if we were born making love. It's said for everything there is a season, and I would have to agree. I doubt we'd have it so good right now if we'd begun an intimate relationship years ago, when we were too young and unsettled to know our hearts. Because we left it almost too late, the resulting blending of our lives is especially sweet. If I have not learned anything else about Mulder, I have learned that he will not be rushed when it comes to lovemaking - or having fun. And when Mulder combines fun with sex, I am pretty much doomed, so all I can do is just lie back, roll with it and hang on with both hands and all ten toes. Which is just what I do - I lie back and let him have fun... Starting with one well-placed kiss. Mistletoe has its advantages, scratchy leaves aside; I feel the chain slip from my waist as Mulder removes it, then I lean back and let him demonstrate the very best uses for the little white-berried parasite. Like all memorable kisses, this one first nuzzles me gently with a silky bottom lip, before settling in for a more serious caress. I sink my nerveless fingers into the bedspread, and hang on for dear life as he presses his mouth deeply; as his tongue - the one strong enough to do pushups - slips along sensitive folds and curls itself lovingly around my clit. I can't move my hips; Mulder's got a grip on my pelvic bones and seems to be getting a kick out of pinning me down... not that I'm complaining; I'm too busy moaning to voice much complaint. As mistletoe kisses goes this one is a hum-dinger - a word my father used to like to say. I always swore I would never under any circumstances compare anything to a hum-dinger - but somehow that word fits, right now. In between candy-sweet kisses placed with carelessly careful abandon, Mulder whispers the most outrageous things into my skin. Telling me what he wants to do to me - "Gonna lick every inch of you, Baby; head to toe and then back to head and everywhere in between; gonna get a faceful of Scully and roll in it..." The words he speaks makes me flush hot all over; none of my past lovers ever spoke to me during sex and I'm still acclimating myself to this side of Mulder. I can feel it building and strengthening, that coil of need inside me; with a gasp I let go of the bedspread and pull him up to me, far enough to wind both arms around his neck, yanking him onto me, full length. I adore the kisses and the words, really I do - but right now I am in such a frenzy of want that I can't wait any longer, not even for tenderness. And as I slide my legs around my lover and press him down into me, the groaning chuckle he releases into my neck tells me that was the plan all along... And he slips inside me with one long delicious stroke of heat: I swear I'll never get used to that first initial push of him, so good and tight... we fit together perfectly. Propping himself on his elbows, Mulder stares down into my face with eyes gone dark and hot; I fight to keep mine focused on him but it's so hard to do when they keep wanting to roll back in their sockets... The way his hands cradle either side of my head, those long fingers warm against my scalp as he thrusts within my trembling body; every small nuance of caring he lavishes upon me tells me I am cherished beyond measure. Four weeks of loving Mulder and I will never be the same; where before I thought of myself as just another hapless soul struggling to survive life in an uncertain world... now I see myself as someone worthy of Fox Mulder's devotion - and in embracing that new position I have afforded him the right to be happy as well; to be worthy in return, of my love. It's New Year's Eve and I have a new dress wasting away in a closet; there's a bottle of champagne in my fridge that will no doubt be drained in about an hour or two... depending upon whether we feel like stopping long enough to ring in the coming year with something other than physical expression. A bouquet of deep red roses sits on the edge of one of my nightstands, filling the small rooms of my apartment with their heady fragrance, and next to an expensive charcoal silk trenchcoat lying in a heap on the floor is a silver chain with a slightly wilted sprig of mistletoe dangling from its thin links. Once more Mulder has managed to take me by surprise and make me laugh - and this time I was able to return the favor. Being loved by this remarkable man has loosened me up quite a bit - in more ways than one. I would expend additional energy on further contemplation of how lucky I am... but I think I'll use it on my partner; turn the tables, so to speak... right after the mother of all orgasms rips through me and about takes the top of my head off, Ohh God, Mulder... This one I can't keep inside me. "Ohhh, GOD, MULDER...!" I latch onto his mouth as the force of my climax tightens every muscle in my body, including the inner muscles gripping him; it must be enough to send Mulder over the cliff because his hoarse shout vibrates inside my throat as we both shudder against each other. I am kissing him with furious ardor and with my eyes wide open; I don't want to miss the show going on in those gorgeous orbs of his - better than watching fireworks, as far as I am concerned. Dark and smoky and dilated with residual passion, and all for me. I feel very lucky, even before his low whisper reaches my ears. "Scully... I'm so in love with you I can't even remember my own badge number..." The smile which breaks over my face seems ridiculously wide, but I don't feel silly forming it, as I reply in as equally-soft a voice. "Ditto on the memory loss, Mulder... and I'm in love with you as well. God, so much... Happy New Year, Partner." One final kiss touches my lips so gently and sweetly, before his head comes to rest on my pillow. "Happy New Year, Baby... and thanks for the mistletoe..." I yawn into his neck and snuggle close, keeping him inside me with his body covering mine like a blanket as I formulate a drowsy reply. "Well, thanks for the kisses..." His sleepy mumble is almost inaudible, but my saturated brain catches it and tucks it in with me as I doze off. "Anytime, Scully... that's a promise." His breath evens out into sleep as he winds me tighter against his skin, and the last thought I have before drifting off is that he's managed to weasel out of telling me why he dressed as a flasher to begin with... That, and the fact he's still wearing the silly cut-off khaki legs; I can feel them against my feet. Ah, what the hell... tomorrow I'll give him a thrill - after all, it's a new year for us... I'll remove them myself - with my teeth. Or maybe I'll just do it in an hour, or two... I fall asleep with a smile on my face. end