TITLE:   THREE DAY GROWTH
AUTHOR:  JACQUIE LAVA
RATING:  NC-17
CATEGORY:  MSR

NOTE: Soothe-Fic for Tess and Robin, who have both been feeling poorly
with a nasty cold... and provoked by Robin who mentioned a certain...
fascination... with MulderStubble! Who am I to argue, LOL!!!

No beta this time, so all errors are mine!

Spoilers: Takes place several months after "Closure", and goes in
its own little direction

Disclaimers: Clones on Loan

Summary:  Not given.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It all started when he came back from a long weekend at his mother's
summer place.

He'd gone alone, needing to spend some solitary time with the
contents of her attic and the local Salvation Army, who'd hopefully
benefit greatly from the boxes he packed up and hauled out.

It was a job best suited to him if he was by himself, mind mostly
shut down and body on automatic pilot. He could sleep in or get up
in the middle of the night, play the stereo loud and eat cold ravioli
out of the can for breakfast. He could wear grubby clothes and not
comb his hair. Not shave.

That's just what he did.

Sometimes it's good to be a slob, he mused, as he dragged another
box down the attic stairs and carried it to the front porch. Every
day of his life he got up, brushed his teeth, showered and shaved;
put on one or another brand of face tonic and dressed in expensive
suits and shoes. Every day he went to work looking as close to a
million bucks as he could. And every day he did it for one reason
and one reason only: because the woman he loved enjoyed the way he
filled out his suits; liked the smooth feel of his cheeks and the
scent on his neck. He did it for her.

But this particular long weekend Mulder wore grungy clothes and
didn't take a bath and barely remembered to brush his teeth. This
weekend he ate weird shit out of cans and mired himself in family
memories.

It hurt him some and angered him more - and was a catharsis he badly
needed, for when he took that last box to the Salvation Army and came
back to a cleaner and emptier house he was able to call the realtor
with a free and easy heart, and give him the go-ahead to sell. Up
until that weekend he'd been fighting against selling, against
dropping that final link to his family and a past that had caused
more pain than happiness. He didn't want the house, not really. He
sure didn't need it. More than anything he'd needed to purge... and
he had. Not the handful of good memories, but all of the bad ones.

Before turning over the keys he jumped in the shower and scrubbed
off three days of sweat and grit. He brushed the hell out of his
teeth. He even put on some of his favorite aftershave... but he
didn't actually shave. He just didn't feel like it. The growth on
his cheeks was his only remaining rebellion against a smooth, well-
turned-out Federal Agent.

Well that, and the threadbare Levis hugging his long legs, as he
drove back to DC.

On the way he called Scully and left a message on her phone; she'd
been spending the weekend with her mother. He gave her an
approximation of when he'd make it to her place, and a low and
teasing description of how he planned on greeting her when he got
there. And he grinned to himself as he clicked off the cell and
tossed it onto the seat next to him. She'd listen to that message
and her cheeks would flame bright red. Mulder could picture it, and
the image kept a smile on his own face, all the way home.

*****************************

He got to her apartment before she did and spent an hour or so
sifting through the things he'd brought back with him, mementoes of
his mother he just couldn't part with. There were a few photo albums
and some individually-framed shots of him and Samantha. There was a
scented sachet box filled with delicate linen handkerchiefs all
embroidered with his mother's initials. There was a thick folder of
childish artwork, things he'd drawn for her when he was in elementary
school; he'd never known she'd saved them all those years. There was
a small mahogany box lined in red, heavy with jewelry. Some of it
was costume but most of it was of excellent quality. He would give
the box to Scully and hope she'd like some of it enough to wear, even
though he knew she wasn't much for jewels.

He ambled into the kitchen and snagged a beer from the fridge,
knowing she'd gone grocery shopping over the weekend and had assured
his favorite brew was cold and waiting for him. It was just the kind
of thoughtful thing she did, probably never expecting him to notice.
Of course, he did - and of course, he'd thank her properly. As soon
as she walked through the door.

Which she did just a few minutes after he'd gulped down half the
bottle, and had emitted a very loud burp.

She unlocked the door and the smile on her face was wide and
beautiful for him; the arms she flung around his neck were loving and
the kiss she pressed to his mouth just about swallowed his tongue
whole - and the chuckle she sent down into his throat told him she'd
heard that rude and loud burp he'd cut loose, right before she'd
walked through the door.

He hugged her back, arms snapping around her hard, lips buried in
hers, soaking in the feel of her body against him. It had been
almost four days since he'd seen her and that was four days of
separation too many.

For endless moments they kissed, then he remembered the stubble on
his cheeks and he pulled back, horrified at the thought of chafing
her tender skin with his roughness. Retaining hold of both her hands
he looked at her; she was a little pink here and there but that was
all. Not too bad, but still... she liked him clean-shaven best,
this he knew.

He spoke first; up until then their reunion had been completely
silent. "Scully, God, I'm so glad to see you! Got a lot to tell you
and show you... but I need to shave. I don't want to mark up your
skin. And I need to put some decent clothes on."

She stepped back a little, her hands still caught in his - and she
gave him the once-over, then shook her head decisively. "You can
tell me, and show me, later. Much later. And no. You don't have to
shave, or change." The smile on her face made her pink cheeks stand
out even more.

Mulder frowned in confusion. "I don't? I look like a slob. There
wasn't any point in cleaning up much at Mom's, not with all the
grunge work I did. I just took a quick shower before I left. But
I'll go find something else to wear and I'll just shave fast, and -"

She shook her head again and tugged at his hands until he let hers
go - and immediately wound her arms around his waist, pressing close.
She murmured into his neck, "No. You look fine, Mulder. In fact,"
she stared up into his eyes, "You look wonderful. You feel
wonderful." She rose up on her toes and her teeth took his bottom
lip in a nipping kiss. Against his mouth she added, "You taste
wonderful. Perfect. Don't change a thing for me."

Her hands wandered over the worn denim hugging his hips; they
slipped around and cupped both of his cheeks. Mulder sighed out one
soft groan and rested his chin on her hair as she explored the
contours of his body, encased in his oldest and most disreputable
jeans. They were a pair he'd found in the closet at his mother's
house; he'd forgotten he'd left them there. About a size too small
in the waist and legs, they were skin tight and worn into holes in
places, permanently stained with grass and garden soil. They made
him look like a bum, he thought.

Apparently not to his lover though, for she kept stroking the denim,
kept touching him, kissing him. When he broke another deep lip-lock
and once again protested the rasp of his face damaging the peach of
hers, Scully simply placed a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

"I like it, Mulder. It's not harsh. It's about a three-day or so
growth, right?" He nodded against her hand, eyes locked on her. She
smiled when she felt his tongue tickle her palm and she kept it
there. "Well, three day's worth of beard feels... good. It's
stimulating. It feels arousing. I can't help but wonder how it
would feel in other... places, Mulder. And I missed you; I don't
want to wait around for you to shave and all of that. I don't mind
your old jeans, either. I'm only going to have to take them off
anyhow; why bother dressing in something else?"

He grinned at her when she removed her hand; he hauled her up off
her feet and wound her into his arms, on eye level with her, heart
pounding against hers, wanting to absorb her into his very soul.
"You're just desperate to take me up on the promises I vaguely
remember making to you over the phone. Admit it, baby."

Scully wrapped her legs around his waist and hung on tightly as he
carried her to the bedroom. "Well of course, Mulder! God, what do
you expect? I check my messages from Mom's house, and there's that
voice of yours, sounding sexier than ever, telling me what I can
expect from you as soon as you get home..."

They fell to the bed and Scully landed on top of him, still wound
into his body. She sat up on his hips and wriggled on him, laughing
softly when he groaned and pressed up against her. She did it again,
then stretched herself full-length on his body and returned the
pressure. Mulder huffed out another groan and fought the need to
roll her underneath him and bury himself deep.

He stroked her back with his fingertips, musing aloud, "So. You
want me to stay all prickly with stubble. You want me to wear these
raggedy old jeans instead of changing into something decent. You've
tackled me and now I'm in your bed and my 'johnson' is popping up all
over. And you have this list of 'things' you say I promised I'd
perform on your person, as soon as I got home. And here I thought
you liked me best when I'm all clean-shaven and dressed like a
gentleman."

Scully slipped a hand between their bodies and grasped the 'johnson'
in question, smiling wickedly when it pulsed in her hand and its
owner growled in agreement. "I do like you that way, Mulder. In
fact I love you that way. I also love you this way, and any old way
I can get you. I loved you when you were oblivious to me as nothing
more than a green agent and I loved you when you wore those tacky
ties and made fun of my little feet. I loved you whenever I'd lie to
myself and make myself believe I was only your friend."

He wound a hand into her hair and pulled her down until he could
reach her lips; kissed her so deeply, so hungrily. Felt the need for
her flowing through him like a tidal wave, as she whispered on his
tongue. "I loved you the first time I felt you inside me, and it has
nothing to do with how you look or the clothes you wear, and
everything to do with who you are and what you give to me, what you
allow me to take, in return."

"Oh, Scully..." He was almost beyond words. Of course he knew all
of this, but the man he was had just enough insecure boy left inside
him to occasionally question his worth. It wasn't a ploy for
compliments; it was simply the residuals from a past less than
successful with the opposite sex or with love. There would always be
times when he'd feel the need to hear the words, just as he knew
there'd be other times when he'd be able to read her mind and map out
her heart.

Like right now.

With shaky fingers he unbuttoned her sweater, working the little
pearl beads one by one. She sat up again and let the yellow cotton
slide off her arms. Mulder cupped her soft breasts, covered in
equally-soft white lace, and felt her sigh as he rubbed his thumbs
across her nipples. Ample amounts of lust and humility were battling
for dominance in his system; he decided there'd be enough time for
humility later on, and chose to let the lust take over for now.
Riding on the last dregs of that insecure little boy who spent the
weekend digging through difficult memories was the man who had a
beautiful woman in his arms, wearing her love for him like a proud
banner. Mulder decided the man needed to win out...

"Tell me."

She had been watching the movement of his fingers as they caressed
her breasts; now she raised her head and sent him a heated look.
"Tell you what? How it feels? It feels amazing, Mulder, it always
feels amazing." Scully laid her hands over his, pressing his palms
closer.

He shook his head as he rubbed at her. "Not that, although I'm
happy as can be that my touch feels amazing to you. Tell me what I
said on my voice mail. Tell me what you expect me to do. I seem to
have... forgotten..." The glint in his eyes was as mischievous as it
was adoring.

Scully sighed dramatically. "Getting senile in your old age,
Partner? You said," she leaned forward as he unhooked her bra and
slipped it off, "You said you were going to remove my clothes piece
by piece and fling them over my shoulder." She waited patiently
until with a practiced flip, Mulder shot her bra past her left ear.
"Then you said you were going to run your tongue east and west,
north, south and all points in between, until I was 'glistening', I
believe was the word you used."

She crossed her arms and waited; Mulder sent her a slow smile and
pushed her off his hips, easily maneuvering her body until she lay on
her back with her arms flung over her head, hot blue eyes observing
the way he unzipped and pulled and unlaced, each piece of her
clothing somehow managing to fly past her left shoulder and not hit
the bedside lamp, or her for that matter. Naked, she stretched
underneath his roving hands, then moaned when his tongue played
'follow the leader'. Over one shoulder and across to the other,
trailing along her collarbone, trekking south a little, each breast
receiving its fair share of damply erotic tongue...

When she moaned out, "Your chin, use your chin," it dawned on Mulder
why she'd talked him out of shaving. He rubbed his bristled chin
over the wet path he'd created and had the satisfaction of hearing
his woman gasp, of feeling the way she trembled under him.

Hell, if he'd only known some face fuzz could excite her that much
he'd have left off shaving many, many weekends ago.

Still wearing tight, threadbare jeans and his ratty old sweatshirt,
Mulder alternately stroked, licked and then rubbed her skin,
everywhere he could reach. He rolled her onto her stomach and
performed the same ministrations to her nape, her spine, her sweetly
rounded cheeks. He ran his jaw over each damp, pale globe and
thrilled to the way her body clenched, the way she purred deep in her
throat.

Against her flesh he demanded, "What next? What else did I promise
you?"

She panted out a breathless, "You said you were going to bury your
tongue so far inside me that it would come out my ear, Mul -
GODDDDD..." For he'd flipped her over as she'd gasped those words,
and his mouth was against her just that quickly, tongue finding her
open and wet and hot, probing and pressing deep. She wound her
fingers through his hair and held on tightly as he filled his mouth
and his senses with her. For one tiny moment he thought about what
his three-day beard growth might be doing to the sides of her
delicate skin, then as easily he forgot about it in the pure rush of
having his woman writhing against his mouth and pulling at his hair
in an attempt to drive his tongue deeper. Every inch of her trembled
when he again used his chin to stroke her most sensitive flesh; she
cried out as her body tightened then convulsed around his tongue. It
was incredible. It was damned erotic.

Maybe he'd never shave on the weekend, ever again...

He must have voiced his thoughts aloud and she must have had enough
presence of mind left to hear him, for she giggled weakly when he
gathered her limp body in his arms and cuddled her against his faded
Levis and the hardest 'johnson' he'd ever had in his life. "Mulder,
my God... if you did that to me every weekend I'd never survive it.
I think we should keep it for very special occasions." She was
tugging at his jeans as she spoke; her hand had about as much
strength as a fly with pneumonia.

Mulder loosened his grip on her long enough to help her unbutton
him, and they both eased the worn denim down over his erection and
off his legs. He toed off his sneakers and felt his socks slip off
at the same time; he shrugged out of his sweatshirt and wriggled
loose from his boxers. Naked and hard, all hot skin and throbbing
with need, he nestled himself between her slender thighs and sighed
in bliss when he pressed inside, thrust home. He speared his fingers
into her hair and held her tightly, kissing her deeply.

Kissing her... he swore he could come just from kissing her lips.
Each time they made love it was a revelation and a renewal of what
was between them, what they shared, that communion he'd never had
with any other woman. He was one hell of a lucky bastard, in so many
ways he couldn't begin to count.

Holding her against his heart, his body and his lips taking her,
Mulder made the love he'd promised his woman, just a short time ago
over the phone.

****************

"There was something else. You promised me some other kind of
deviant thing, Mulder. I seem to recall laughing myself silly, and
Mom was trying to get me to tell her what was so funny."

They were lying in bed with the darkening shadows of early evening
slanting over their cooling skin. They'd slept a little, only to
awaken a mere hour later and discover a short nap did wonders for the
human libido. This time it was Scully who'd pushed him into the
mattress; who'd slid all over his skin, whose eager mouth had taken
him into her throat... who'd made him cry out into the damp
evening air.

He was still trembling, little aftershocks of pleasure that made the
tips of his fingers and toes tingle. She had pillowed her head on
his groin, lips gently pressing against his damp flesh, and the
exhalation of her breath stirred his hair. "Do you remember, Mulder?
You owe me everything you mentioned over the phone, though of course
I should allow you some regroup time before I start pressuring you."

Mulder stroked a hand through her tangled hair. "Baby, at this
moment I barely can remember I'm human, much less what my name is or
what I may have promised you over the phone. I'm completely stripped
out, thanks to your mouth and its many... acrobatic abilities."

She chuckled. "Well, thankfully for me, I remember. Just before
you disconnected, just before you said 'I love you', I distinctly
heard you promise to comb my pubic hair with your nose and bite my
clit until I saw stars."

Mulder laughed aloud and pulled at her until she came up and into
his arms. He squeezed her tightly. "Yeah, that sounds like
something I'd promise. How lucky for you that I remembered to do all
of that without your prompting. Obviously you don't recall me doing
it; you were too busy screaming out my name as you came, weren't you?"

She protested, "Well, jeez, Mulder! I can only handle one sensory
overload at a time!" She squeezed him back; then relaxed in his
loosened embrace. "It was amazing, you know. I give much credit to
the three-day growth." She ran a tender palm over his jaw, adding,
"Of course, the mouth and tongue under the growth are pretty damn
talented, too - and the man behind the scenes who controls them all
deserves some kind of award for performance above and beyond the call
of duty."

Mulder stroked her bare back. "No duty, Scully. Pure enjoyment.
Absolute ecstasy. I promise to only shave four days a week, is that
all right with you and your pretty skin? Four days a week you'll
have your clean-cut Agent Spooky-Boy."

He turned her in his arms and raised himself over her, loving the
way her legs and arms fell open naturally, to encase him and hold
him. Against her cheek he whispered, "And three days a week you'll
have to contend with my 'growth'. You think you can handle it,
Partner?"

Her smile was wide in her beautiful face. "Bring it on, Spooky."

End


The things a picture of DD with beard-stubble inspires in people...<g>