TITLE: Touch Stones
AUTHOR: Nicola Simpson
E-MAIL: nsimpson@ualberta.ca
RATING: NC-17
KEYWORDS: S, H, MSR
SUMMARY: How do you define true intimacy? Oh yes, and this is Smut.
Wildly out of character, brazen, salty Smut.
DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral. I'll send to Spookys and Gossamer. Anyone else
please ask. I rarely say no, but a girl likes to be
asked.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, would I really do this to them?
NOTES: After six weeks of stewing in angst with the Body series, I
thought it was time to release a little tension. This one
goes out to Leslie, because she loved the title so much.
xxxxxxxxxxx

Dana Scully was tired, cranky, and hot. And she let her partner know it.

"Don't forget bitchy, Scully," Mulder pointed out.

She slumped in the car seat, her blouse plastered to her back, and
wondered if it would be considered sexual harassment if she hiked her
skirt up to her hips and stuck her legs out the open window. Deciding to
let the "bitchy" comment go, she rolled up her sleeves and sighed.

"Mulder, cow tipping is *not* a paranormal phenomenon. I can't believe
you dragged me out of bed for this. I had plans today!"

He shot her a sideways grin. "Ironing?"

She sneered. Damn it, how come he could look cool even when it was eighty
degrees out? No beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, no telltale
patches of dampness under his armpits. "No. I was going to defrost the
fridge," she mumbled.

As the breeze from the window lifted her hair back in snarled tangles, she
realized that it would have been too warm anyhow. There were lots of
reasons she could demolish a carton of Ben and Jerry's, but just because
it would otherwise melt wasn't good enough.

"Oooh, *big* plans. Just enjoy the Virginia countryside, Scully." He
waved his hand. "Look, we're on a quiet--"

"Dusty," she interrupted, wiping the grit from her eyes, satisfied to see
moisture finally pooling in the hollow of her partner's collarbone.

"--country road, surrounded by green pastures and red barns--"

She wrinkled her nose. "Cows standing upright all over the place, a
dangerous abundance of methane gas and not a Starbucks in sight.
Utopia."

Mulder slowed the car considerably, and she sat up straight. "What is
it?"

"Look around, Scully. No Starbucks, no McDonald's, no Gap...now *that's*
a paranormal phenomenon."

She smiled despite herself. "And thankfully, no crappy motels with
stained blankets and moldy bathtubs. I like this trend." Maybe he was
right--it was a beautiful day, if a little warm. "I just wish these
sightings happened in October, or March." She undid another button on her
blouse and leaned forward a little to let the foul-smelling wind sluice
over her cleavage. "Right lane, Mulder, right lane."

He swerved back towards the shoulder, his jaw clenching as he concentrated
on the road.

"And if you think I'm going to write this up, you--" She froze, her eyes
widening and her stomach flip-flopping. "Mulder, what did you just do?
WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?"

"Sorry?" But he was turning as red as the barn they'd just passed.

She shook her head. He couldn't have done what she thought she saw. But
her jaw dropped at the guilty flush spreading up his cheeks. He did. He
really did. She was stunned. Shocked. Uneasy. And just a little bit
aroused.

"C'mon, Scully, it's hot. I was itchy."

"But you--" Heat rose in her face, and dropped through her belly like a
shot of tequila.

"I scratched my balls, okay? My cojones, my stones, whatever you want to
call them. It's a perfectly natural urge."

She narrowed her eyes at him and twisted her knees towards the gear shift.
"I've never had that urge," she informed him primly. At least, if she
had, she wouldn't shove her hand up her skirt in the car and peel her
sticky underwear away, her nails lightly scratching...

"I hate to point this out," Mulder announced, "as you're a doctor, but
you're a little light in the testicle departme--"

"Mulder!" She squirmed in her seat. "Are you that lacking in propriety,
in personal privacy and decorum that you'd..." She waved a hand towards
his lap.

He shot her an intense look. "I thought you were a scientist."

She was. But this wasn't about science. It was about a level of comfort,
an intimacy she hadn't realized existed between them. There were supposed
to be walls between them, barriers that weren't to be crossed except in
life and death situations. And a Sunday drive through lush Virginia
farmland wasn't a life and death situation...yet.

"I've seen you naked," he reminded her, shaking his head. "Hell, you've
seen me naked. I can't believe you're making a big deal out of this."

"Fine." Inhaling the fresh country air, she reached up beneath her skirt
and pulled down her pantyhose in one jerk. "Right lane, Mulder!" she
shouted, bumping her elbow against the door as he swerved back.

He swore, sweat trickling down his temples. "What the hell did you do
that for?"

"I was hot." She dropped the pantyhose on the floor like a discarded
snake skin, and slipped her heels back on.

A muscle in his neck jumped, and he took one hand off the wheel to dig
savagely into his crotch. "Fine, then. Well, so am I!"

Ignoring the fluttering sensation deep in her belly, Scully stretched her
arms out and slouched, her skirt creeping up her bare thighs. "Well, if
it doesn't bother you, Mulder, then it doesn't bother me," she said. She
raised her right leg and scratched underneath her knee. "Ugh, I'm all
sweaty."

Her partner groaned, his fingers still dancing over the front of his
pants. Scully's gaze latched on to the sight of his lean brown hand
quickening over his fly. It was beginning to look less like scratching,
and suspiciously like...

"Mulder!" She slapped a hand over his, stilling the frenetic movement of
his fingers. He groaned again. "Right lane, damn it!"

He yanked the steering wheel to the right and threw her hand back in her
lap. "Jesus, Scully! That's crossing the line!"

She assumed he didn't mean the apparently invisible yellow line down the
center of the road. So there were still walls in place, barriers between
them. The thought would have filled her with greater relief if her
fingertips weren't still tingling from the heat she'd felt scorching
through his slacks.

Breathing heavily, Mulder flexed and curled his fingers around the wheel.
"What happened to propriety? What about decorum and privacy?"

Her jaw worked, but only a thready whistle came out of her mouth. Her
body felt heavy, languorous, and she wriggled in her seat. She tried to
breathe in deeply, but felt choked. Too much methane gas, or too much
Mulder. Her money was on the cows.

"What were you thinking?" he growled. "Fine, I'm sorry for scratching
myself in your exalted presence--" She snorted. "--but how would you
feel if I did this?"

Before she could move, he reached over and plunged his hand up her skirt.

She gasped, and clamped her knees together around his forearm. "Right
lane, Mulder!"

He jerked the wheel back with his left hand, his foot falling off the
accelerator, and they rolled into the ditch.

The car shuddered to a stop, and Scully turned her head slowly to see the
darkening of her partner's eyes.

"Scully," he whispered, "you don't have any underwear on."

And she was supposed to be the scientist? She nodded jerkily, biting her
lower lip as the tip of his finger prowled around, then darted into her.
Okay, so there was *one* less wall, *one* less barrier in place.

He undid his seatbelt and leaned towards her, his eyes widening. His
knuckles grazed her inner thighs, sliding over the sticky heat she could
barely contain. With his other hand he popped open her seatbelt and she
sunk down in the seat with a moan, her knees falling open.

"Mulder..." Blindly she reached out, her hand closing over the bulge in
his pants. "We--we can't...ohhhhh." Her fingers tightened around him as
he slipped another finger into her, teasing her clit with the roughened
pad of his thumb.

He licked his lips, then bent his head to kiss her. Her head spun, and
her empty hand crept up to cup his neck and pull him closer. But he
wasn't close enough. The quivering in her stomach radiated to her thighs,
and she shivered around him as he slid his fingers over her, around her,
in her.

"Now I'll agree that this is a little inappropriate," he murmured, his
breath hot against her parched lips. "But it's a perfectly natural urge.
Of course, if you want your privacy..." She locked her knees together as
his knuckles threatened retreated down the length of her thighs. And he
smiled and kissed her again, the tip of his tongue rimming her parted
lips.

Her lungs aching, she gulped in the scent of his warmth tangling with her
arousal, and nibbled on his lower lip. God, she'd been wanting to do that
for a long time. Her hand wandered over the seam in his trousers, between
his legs, and pressed upwards.

Mulder's mouth fell open against hers in a gasp, and she drew back
slightly and watched his pupils dilate.

"Get out of the car, Scully." It wasn't a request.

She whimpered softly as his hand left her, and with a shaking hand she
opened the door and stumbled out into the ditch. Her silk blouse still
clung to the small of her back, and the sun slapped her head until she
leaned against the car for support.

What the hell was she doing? Scientifically, she knew she could blame the
wet spot on her car seat on a natural state of heightened arousal. But
how would she write it up on the BuCar return form?

Ominous phrases tumbled through her consciousness--sexual harassment,
indecent exposure, breach of protocol, breach of...oh god...hot, dripping,
hard, clenching, swirling, mouth, Mulder's mouth.... She shook her head,
blaming her traitorous body for the way her train of thought had derailed.

Somewhere far away she heard a car door slam, but only focused again when
Mulder's hands wrapped around her waist.

"Scully, please."

He stood in front of her, color burning bright on his cheeks and a deadly
serious look in his eyes. She nodded and reached for the buckle of his
belt as he finished undoing her blouse. His fingers, slick with her
arousal, slipped over the buttons, until he swore and ripped it open.

The sun washed over her breasts as he pulled apart the edges of her
blouse. She closed her eyes as his hands dove into her bra, then he bent
his head to lap the sweat from between her breasts. Her nipples
tightened, and he yanked the silky cup down to take the rosy flesh between
his lips.

"Mulder!" Her legs shook as his teeth scraped over her nipple, and his
chin rasped against the pale skin of her breast. Oh sweet Jesus, she was
going to hell. For blasphemy first, then sin. Sin sin sin sin. Her eyes
snapped open as he moved to her other nipple. Oh sweet Jesus.

He grunted against her breast, one hand curving against her spine and the
other roaming up her skirt again. Hurriedly she unzipped his pants and
reached inside his boxers. He was hot, hard and heavy in her hand. And
so, so much better than what she'd imagined. She could feel him throb in
tandem with the heartbeat drumming in his chest as he pressed against her.
Carefully she wrapped her fingers around him and twisted her hand slowly
to the right.

"If you keep that up, this is going to be over way too soon," he warned.

Her hand moved up and down with firm, deliberate strokes. "We're not
getting any younger, Mulder."

His head rose from her breast and he captured her lips again. Shuddering
in her arms, he pulled away and touched his forehead to hers. She always
knew he was a man of passion, but it was another thing altogether to have
that passion directed at her. It was frightening, exhilarating, and
unbelievably erotic.

She pushed him away slightly, her head whipping from side to side as he
circled her clit with his thumb. "There's no one coming." Mulder raised
an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes in response. "Get your mind out of the
gutter."

"We're in a ditch."

"Exactly," she panted.

And he dragged her across the car. "Thank god you're not wearing pants
today. Or black. God, Scully, please--no more black."

She nodded, leaning back against the hood. It was too hot for black right
now. But how exactly was this going to work? He was nearly a foot taller
than her. Just as she began to calculate the physics of the situation,
Mulder hoisted her up on the hood of the car, shoved her skirt up to her
waist, and stood between her splayed legs.

Physics be damned.

"Ow! Ow ow ow!" She hopped off the hot car, the backs of her thighs still
smarting. Her skirt still bunched around her hips, she skidded down the
slope of the ditch and landed on her ass in the cool grass.

"You okay?" The desire in his eyes was quickly replaced by concern. It
was really kind of touching, even though his pants were sliding down his
thighs.

She nodded, and he jogged over to her, landing heavily on his knees
between her legs. Her knees raised, pressing against his hips as he
loomed over her. "Here?" she asked, suddenly unsure.

"Yes, here." His jaw was tight and his eyes hot as she lay back, the
grass tickling the back of her neck. He moved over her, blocking the sun
until a halo of light surrounded him, and knelt before her in worship.
His eyes were like the blackness of space, full of possibility and wonder.
Then a strange smile stretched his lips.

"I love you," he said as he plunged into her.

Shock left cold sweat prickling between her shoulder blades. She wasn't
sure if it was from feeling him buried deep inside her or his confession
as he filled her.

Did he really mean it or was it just one of those passion-induced
admissions that meant nothing the next day? It had taken them so long to
get here...

"On--only three hours, Scully," he gasped, and she realized she'd said it
out loud. Seven years in purgatory and three hours in the car.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to swallow the bowling
ball-sized lump in her throat.

He thrust into her gently, watching her carefully. "I mean it, you know."

Her eyes filled with tears. "It's okay, Mulder."

His gaze hardened and his hips jerked against hers. "You don't believe
me, do you? Don't you love me?"

She clapped her hand over his mouth and shivered as a tremor rocked her.
"I need you. I want you. Now shut up and kiss me."

*And if you love me you won't tell me again. Trust no one, remember?* She
didn't want the pressure. It was hard enough battling against him, *with*
him at her side, without knowing what they could be to one another. But
maybe it was too late already.

His fingers circled her wrists and he pinned her arms above her head
before he took her mouth in a hard kiss. It was like he was trying to
convince her, persuade her of his desire. The long, hot length of him
sheathed inside her was persuasion enough.

She met his onslaught of passion with full force, raising her hips to meet
him, savoring the taste of his skin on her tongue.

When he bent his head to take her aching nipple into his mouth, sucking
greedily, she contracted and gasped.

"Mulder!" She ground her teeth together, trying to fight the sensations
flooding her body. He reached down between them to find her sensitive
spot and it was as though she was struck by lightning. "I can't...
aaaaahhhhhh... noooo, you're not ready yet!"

"Don't worry about me. I want to watch you come."

Her cheeks filled with heat at the shocking force of her orgasm and the
satisfied expression on his face as she tightened around him. It wasn't
supposed to happen like this. She wanted more time, more control.

She lost both.

As pleasure rippled through her body, his eyes widened and his hands
splayed over her buttocks, holding her to him. "Oh god!" he cried. He
drove into her a few more times and then went rigid with his release.

Her heart was pounding wildly as she smoothed her hands over his damp
back. He twitched and quivered under her touch and rolled off of her.

She gulped in the methane-laced air, still throbbing deep inside. When
she rolled onto her side, she met his smile and outstretched arms.

"You have grass in your hair, Scully."

Her lips twitched. "You have grass sticking to your penis, Mulder."

He looked down with irritation, and yanked his boxers up over his hips.
While her partner picked blades of grass out of his underwear, Dana Scully
stretched her arms overhead and fell back to watch the clouds drift across
the sky.

She was tired and hot, but she was no longer cranky. And with a smile,
she crawled on top of Mulder and let him know it.

THE END

Nicola Simpson
E-mail: nicola.simpson@ualberta.ca