Title:       Under the Stars
Author:      Lovesfox
E-mail:      lovesfox@rogers.com
Website:     http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/index.html
Rating:      NC-17
Category:    MSR, Smut, PWP, Mulder POV
Spoilers:    None, but set it mid-Season 7

Summary:     It's one of Scully's fantasies

Archive:     Gossamer and Ephemeral, others please ask

Disclaimer:  Mulder and Scully do not belong to me, they
             belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
             I mean no harm.

Thanks:      Nancy, as always


Note:        A companion piece to "In the Stacks".  You 
             don't have to have read it to understand this 
             story, though I'd love it if you did!

***

X-Files Office
Friday
5:45 PM


Mulder fiddled with his pen, rolling it between his fingers,
occasionally tapping it on his desk.  His eyes had been making
an almost continuous route -- his watch, Scully, desk blotter, 
and repeat -- for some time now.  With expanded time at one of 
the destinations.

Scully.

He loved to watch her.  All the time.  But particularly when
she was unaware that he was doing so.

"Mulder."

Her voice startled him, and the pen fell from his hand and
bounced off the edge of his desk to land and skitter across
the floor.  "Uh...yeah?" he managed, realizing the object of
his visual affections was regarding him with that disdainful
amusement she did so well.  Of course it was softened a little
for him, he could see it in her eyes.

"Is there something you need?" Scully asked, one eyebrow just
slightly arched.

Hmmmm...now that was a leading question if he'd ever heard
one.  And if they'd been at either his place or hers, an
invitation.  A pleasurable sort of tension pooled low in his
belly, and he found himself shifting in his seat.  "Need?" he
repeated, his voice an octave lower than normal.  <Oh, I need>
he thought.  <Need you, baby.>

"Yes, need," she replied, her lips curving in the tiniest of
smiles.  "You keep looking at me."

Apparently he wasn't as suave at his Scully-watching as he
had assumed.  Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter.  "No,
I don't need anything, Scully."  His voice lied smoothly as
he hoped his eyes told her otherwise.  <Need you to come over
here and sit on my lap.  Need you to kiss me.  Need you to
touch me.> 

By the sudden lowering of her lashes, and the tinge of pink
on her cheeks, he knew he had succeeded.

"Mulder," she warned huskily, looking first at him, and then 
very deliberately at the overhead fixture, long-suspected of 
housing listening devices.  'Not here,' she mouthed.

Throwing a brief pout her way, watching her fight another
smile in response, he acquiesced to her silent request.
"I'm good, Scully," he said instead.  

After receiving a brief smile in response, he made a show of 
looking at his watch.  "Don't you have plans with your mom?"
he asked then, knowing full well she did indeed have plans
with Mrs. Scully.  Plans he was a part of, though Scully was
blissfully unaware of that fact.  He hoped.

Scully cocked her head slightly to one side, eyeing him
curiously.  Obviously wondering why he was asking, since she
had told him of those plans the night before.  "Yessss," was
her reply, drawn out slowly.

"Why don't you cut out early?"  He tried for casualness.

Scully glanced at her own watch, her brow wrinkling.  "Trying
to get rid of me, partner?" she queried, her eyes intent on
his, silently asking him what was up.

Affecting nonchalance, he shrugged his shoulders and smiled
goofily.  "Got a hot date with the Gunmen."

Her eyebrow rose, and she barked out a surprised laugh.  "I
wouldn't brag about that if I were you, Mulder," she teased,
still smiling, her cheeks rosy with her mirth.

That hadn't come out quite like he'd intended, but the end
result was spectacular.  The pretty flush on her cheeks was 
reminiscent of the one she achieved during orgasm.  Again he 
had to shift in his chair as his trouser snake wiggled in 
anticipation.  Leaning back, he willed it away -- his personal 
snake charmer was booked for a few hours for an evening with 
her mom.

"You know what I mean," he told her with mock chagrin, 
narrowing his eyes at her.  "They've got some new videos they 
want me to see."  When her smile turned to a smirk, he added, 
"Not those kind of videos!"

"Of course not," she gibed straight-faced, then softened 
her response with a wink.  Switching gears, she stood up 
and remarked, "I'm going to take your suggestion and head 
out.  If I stare at one more lab report, I think I'll shoot
my laptop."

Mulder nodded sagely, his lips twitching into a grin at the
thought of Scully blasting the hell out of her laptop, and 
having to explain to "The Powers That Be" as to why she needed 
a new one.  Resting his elbows on his desk blotter, he watched 
as she began to pack up her briefcase with quick, economical 
motions.  "Have a good time," he said, and reached for the 
report he had been working on for the past hour and a half, 
with zero success.  All part of his subterfuge.

"Thanks," she murmured, slipping into her blazer.  "You too."
Picking up the packed briefcase, she gave him another smile,
the one that was reserved for him alone.  "Good night, and
have a good weekend."

The second half of her parting words were for the benefit of 
anyone who might be listening.  They would be seeing each 
other all weekend, of course.

And later that evening.  

Just not how and where Scully expected, Mulder thought with
an inward smile, and a thrill of anticipation.

"Night, Scully," he responded, and blew her a kiss, getting
a flash of her sparkling eyes in return.  He waited until the 
sound of her heels had receded and he heard the ding of the 
elevator before he shoved the file folder aside and stood up.

He had several hours to kill before Operation Outdoor Picnic
would commence, and the Gunmen were always good for a few
laughs.  

A half-hearted attempt at cleaning his desk, and he was out
the door, locking it behind him.

***

Margaret Scully's Residence
Baltimore, MD
10:00 PM


Mulder smiled to himself at the confusion and curiosity
that flitted across Scully's face as she walked towards
him.

Her eyes had widened when she first spotted him, after
bidding her mother good night at the door and turning to
walk down the wide, flat step of the front porch.  He was 
leaning casually against the side of his car, his arms 
folded over his chest and one leg crossed over the other.  
Her gaze had then traveled the length of his body, from 
foot to crown, pausing briefly around his mid-section, 
accentuated by his deliberate pose.  Taking in his non-
work attire of tee shirt, jeans and leather jacket.

She herself was dressed semi-casually, in form-fitting
khaki pants, a white man's-style button-down shirt and a 
three-quarter length cardigan.  The sweater was not 
buttoned up, but its belt was tied loosely, holding the
sweater partially closed.  Her hair was curling slightly
around her face, and she looked young and carefree.

Now she was nearing him, still puzzled, having flicked one
last glance back at her mother's house.  But the door had
been closed and the porch light was off.  No help there.

"Mulder?" she queried, her voice not quite its normal
smooth tones.  "Is something wrong?  Do we have a case?"

"Nothing's wrong, Scully," he assured her, straightening up 
to move to stand by the passenger door, one hand resting on 
the roof of the car.  "No case."

"Okay," she said slowly, coming to a stop just before him,
hands on hips, peering up at him with narrowed, slightly
suspicious eyes.  "Then what's up?"

Oh, a leading question indeed.  Hopefully him, if all went
well.

Foregoing the leering comeback however, he merely smiled.
"Nothing's up."  Keeping his answers simple, and all the
more puzzling for her.

More than a touch of exasperation colored her next utterance.  
"Why are you here?"

His smile widened, and the resultant tiny flash of anger in 
her eyes had him wondering if she was thinking about decking 
him.  Sometimes he pushed just a little too far.

Holding his hands up in the classic surrender position, 
he murmured, "Sorry, Scully.  Couldn't resist."  Stepping 
forward, he touched her shoulders, stroking lightly down 
her arms to clasp her hands.  Bringing one up to his mouth, 
he kissed her knuckles.  "It's a surprise."

The tension he had felt in her body eased, and she sighed
audibly, her eyes softening.  Her lips curved downward in
a moue of self-recrimination.  "I'm sorry for jumping on 
you like that, Mulder."

"Oooh," he teased. "You can jump me anytime, baby."

The trademark eyebrow, accompanied by a rolling of her eyes,
was her response, although his comment did elicit a chuffing 
laugh as well.

Lifting his hand, he skimmed a fingertip down her soft cheek, 
just because he could, and because he felt an intense need 
to touch her.  Continuing along her cheekbone, he traced her 
jaw line and then cupped her chin, tilting her face up as he 
leaned in to press a kiss on her slightly parted lips.  He 
watched her eyes flutter shut just before he closed his own.

He was tempted -- oh so very tempted -- to deepen the kiss.  
To let his hands dive into her hair and hold her head still
as his tongue slid past her lips and teeth to explore her 
mouth.  

The way Scully was responding told him she would not mind,
despite the fact they were directly in front of her mother's 
house.

That very fact was what had him pulling regretfully away.  
Feeling an enormous surge of purely masculine pride when 
Scully whimpered softly and attempted to follow him, her 
eyes still closed and a dreamy expression on her face.

It was very possible he'd be seeing that same look much
later.

Mulder smiled gently at her when she opened her eyes, and
held out his hand, murmuring, "Let's go."  Gesturing at her
car with his chin, he added, "We'll take care of your car
tomorrow."

She slid her hand into his with a shy smile and a pretty
blush, and let him guide her the scant steps to the 
passenger door.  As he gallantly opened the door, she said 
somewhat wryly, "I don't suppose I get any hints as to 
where we're going?"

"Nope," he told her cheerfully, and helped her into the
car.  After shutting the door, he casually rounded the
front and climbed inside.  His seatbelt was fastened and
the engine started with economical motions -- motions that 
belied his eagerness to reach their destination.

***

Dumbarton Oaks
R Street, Washington, D.C.
11:00 PM


Mulder glided the car over to the curb, coming to a gentle
stop just meters away from a lamppost that warmly lit the 
surrounding area.  It was almost exactly the same spot he 
had parked at just over an hour ago when he'd laid the 
groundwork for his plans for their night.  Turning off the 
ignition and removing the key, he glanced at Scully.

She had kept up her questioning during the drive, but he 
had not bent under pressure, had revealed nothing.  Now
she eyed him curiously, clearly not familiar with the area.

"Are we here?" she asked when she realized his attention
was upon her, the expression on her face indicating she
was hoping he'd fill her in.  When only his brief nod was 
forthcoming, she then queried with a sly impatience, "And 
where might here be?"

Unbuckling his seatbelt, he gestured for her to do the
same.  "You'll see," he said lightly, unable to hold back
a smile at her continued attempts to wrangle information 
from him.  With that, he exited the car, tucking the keys 
into his jacket pocket.

She followed slowly, an adorably sexy pout curving her lips.

Rounding the front end of the car to join her, he touched
his thumb lightly to her bottom lip, sweeping it along the 
tender flesh softly.  "Soon, Scully," he promised.

She sighed dramatically, for his benefit of course, and 
then smiled.  Stroking one hand down his chest, where she
let it rest on his belt buckle, she quirked an eyebrow and 
commented, "I must say you've got me intrigued, Mulder."

Intrigue and romance -- elements he had gleaned from her
while he strove to discover a fantasy he could enact with
her.  They were at the heart of his goal.  One down, one 
to go.  He returned the smile, riding high on this glimpse 
of victory.

While his original intention had been for a fantasy of a
sexual nature, somehow his priorities, if you will, had
shifted.  Had become secondary to doing something special
for Scully.

Though, knowing the two of them, he held more than a faint
hope that the night would end with them naked and horizontal
at either his place or hers.

Grabbing her hand securely in his, he said, "Come on," and
tugged her after him.  She went, naturally, but there was
just the slightest resistance in her steps.  Her way, he
knew, of telling him she'd play along, but that she was 
still looking for answers.  He loved that hint of obstinacy, 
her stubbornness.

Gamely, yet persistently, she asked, "Where?"

Mulder ignored the deeper meaning behind her question, still 
not giving an inch despite being yards from their destination, 
and flashed her a toothy grin.  "With me," was his reply.

At the wrought iron, gated entrance he led them to, Mulder 
stepped up close to the bars and whistled softly.  There was 
a corresponding whistle and then the thud of booted feet from 
within.  The night was clear, the moon and stars bright, and 
because of that, visibility was good.  He was easily able to 
make out the features of his downstairs neighbor, a friendly 
soul named George Evans.

"Hey, Mr. Mulder," George said, his wide face breaking out 
into a conspiratorial grin.  "All clear."  His keys jangled 
on a large metal ring as he unlocked the gate and stood back 
to let them in after swinging it wide.

"Evening, George," Mulder replied, and wrapping his arm
around Scully's shoulders brought her forward through the
entrance.  He stopped and turned them both to face George.
"This is Dana Scully."

George's smile became mega-watt, and Mulder could see the
approval in the man's eyes.  And the appreciative gleam,
which filled Mulder with pride.  "It's nice to meet you, 
Miss Scully," George said.

Scully's voice was a tad shy, and just slightly curious as 
she warmly replied, "It's nice to meet you too, George."  

When George stepped away to close and re-lock the gate
she gave Mulder a questioning look, to which he responded
with a low-voiced, and slightly smug, "You're not the only 
one with connections, Scully."

It took her a moment, but Mulder saw when pieces of the 
puzzle clicked into place for her.  Knew that she had 
remembered their little rendezvous at the Georgetown 
Regional Library several weeks ago, courtesy of her friend 
and the help of two symphony tickets.

While he had shared the details of his many fantasies
involving Scully and himself with ease, Scully had been a
little reticent.  But being his usual self -- persistent,
cajoling and teasing, not to mention having skill in the
art of seductive interrogation -- he had managed to drag a 
few details from her.  Doing so, however, had gotten him 
distracted.

And the distraction had been a rather pleasant experience 
for both of them, he remembered wolfishly.  Starting on her 
living room floor, with her still in her heels, and ending 
with them snuggled warmly beneath her soft sheets and down 
comforter.

For some reason, his mind wandered to their tryst in the
library; perhaps it was the thought of Scully's heels.  He 
recalled the feel of them digging into the backs of his 
thighs as her legs wrapped around him...

A nudge at his ribs -- Scully's elbow -- and the sound of
George's voice saying, "Any time you're ready, Mr. Mulder,"
pulled him from his very pleasant trip down sexual memory 
lane with a start.

"Uh, yeah," he replied a little huskily, feeling his ears
grow warm.  Clearing his throat, he added, "Thanks again, 
George."

George smiled, shrugged his shoulders.  "No problem at all, 
Mr. Mulder."  He consulted his watch and then met Mulder's 
gaze once again.  "You're good for a couple hours, okay?"

Giving him a lazy salute with his left hand, Mulder then 
slid his other one back across Scully's shoulders.  He
squeezed there gently and then glided his hand down her arm 
to grasp hers, their fingers twining with a familiarity that 
warmed him.

With a lift of his chin, he indicated they were to take the
path to the right, and they started off.

They strolled slowly along the bricks, worn smooth by 
thousands of feet before them, as Mulder rambled on about
the history of Dumbarton Oaks.  He kept it light though,
sensing Scully was more interested in the view, and in his
company.

He waggled his eyebrows at her as he told her they were
coming up on Lover's Lane Pool, and watched as she rolled 
hers at him in response.  "Too shallow for skinny-dipping," 
he told her with mock-disappointment, and grunted from 
another playful elbow to his ribs.

Lover's Lane Pool had a Roman-style, outdoor miniature 
amphitheater that surrounded the oval pool, the moon 
reflecting brightly in its water.

"This pool here was modeled after an open-air theater in
Rome, located at the Accademia degli--" he was cut-off by
Scully's hand pressing over his mouth.

"Shhhhh," she said without any bite, snuggling against his 
side, her arm wrapping around his waist.  "Just listen."

Draping his arm over her shoulder, he did.

The night was alive with sounds.  The occasional rustle of
the wind through the trees, crickets chirping their song,
the rhythmic buzzing of cicadas.

"It's so beautiful," she said in hushed tones, as if she
were trying not to disturb it.  "Peaceful."  

He hummed his agreement into her hair, and waited for her 
to be ready to continue on.

They meandered along the winding path that led down from 
Lover's Lane Pool, a former cow-path called Melisande's
Allee.  His chosen location for their midnight picnic under
the stars, both for its beauty and the romanticism of its
name.  

Mulder's heart rate began to accelerate in anticipation, 
and his fingers tightened reflexively around Scully's.

She squeezed back, and swung their arms playfully.  "This
was a wonderful idea, Mulder," she said then, the pleasure
in her voice and the warmth of her tone conveying the 
sentiment as well.  "Thank-you for bringing me here." 

"It's not over yet, Scully," he told her, and led her over
to a beautiful, weathered wooden bench.  He helped her to 
sit, smiling as she eyed him curiously when he did not.  
"Wait," he added, and crouched down, intending to reach 
underneath the bench to retrieve the items he had hidden 
earlier.

The blanket was first -- soft and plush, easily large enough
for the two of them to recline.  Standing, he walked forward
a few paces from the bench and shook the cotton out, letting 
it drift slowly to the ground.  One corner folded under and 
he bent at the waist to arrange it with a quick flick of his 
wrist.

From behind he heard Scully make a murmuring sound, and after
straightening up, he turned to see her staring at him with a
purely feminine little smile.  "What?" he asked, perplexed.

"Have I ever told you that you have a very fine ass, Mulder?"
she asked conversationally.  Her lids lowered to half-mast,
giving them a seductive slant, and she wet her lips.  "Forgive 
me if I've been lax."  She drawled the words, and they slid 
along his spine, alighting every nerve ending from the soles 
of his feet to the top of his head.  Tilting her own head to 
one side then, she added in that same slow drawl, "The view 
from the front is just as fine."

Slack-jawed, he stared at her sitting there with her arms 
spread wide and resting on the bench's back, emphasizing the 
swell of her breasts, and her legs crossed demurely, 
highlighting the length and tautness of one thigh.  By the 
light of the moon he could see the curve of one alabaster 
cheek, the other hidden by the sweep of her hair, and that 
her lips were glistening.  

She was beauty incarnate.

It was an effort to close his mouth, to swallow, to speak.  
But he managed, his voice husky.  "There are no words to 
describe my view, Scully."

He walked to her and held out his hand, which she took, their
gazes locked.  With a little tug, he brought her to her feet,
pulling her into his body.  Raising his arms, he cupped her
face and leaned in.  Their lips met, chastely, before he 
applied a gentle pressure and she opened her mouth to his.

They parted eventually, albeit reluctantly, each panting 
softly, breaths mingling together.  Caressing her cheekbones 
with his thumbs, he let his hands fall away and stepped back, 
taking one of her hands in his.  "Come here, Scully," he said, 
and led her to the spread-out blanket.  

He waited until she had toed off her shoes and removed her
cardigan, and then watched as Scully arranged herself, half-
reclining on one hip, supporting her weight on her palm.  When
she was settled, he crouched down once again.  This time his 
action resulted in an appreciative wolf-whistle from her, 
which made him chuckle.

When he retrieved the second item from beneath the bench, he 
did so in such a way that his body blocked Scully's view of 
it.  For a few moments at least.  

"Ohhhhh, Mulder," was her soft exclamation once he revealed
the wicker picnic basket.  The tone of her voice was that 
happy/sad combination that sometimes baffled him, but in this 
case he knew was a good thing.

"Surprise," he returned, equally soft, and placed the basket
on the edge of the blanket, in the middle.  Shrugging off his
jacket and laying it next to the basket, he kicked off his 
shoes and after nudging them off to one side, settled into 
place opposite Scully, mirroring her pose.

"A wonderful one."  

If he wasn't mistaken, he'd heard a sniffle after that comment.  
Reaching over, he used his index finger to tip her chin up so 
he could see her face.  There was a definite shine to her eyes, 
but that could be the moonlight.  She was smiling though, and 
as she met his gaze, the smile widened.  A moment later she 
ducked her head down to press a kiss to his fingertip.

He doubted he'd ever be accused of being Mr. Romance, but he
had his moments.  This was definitely one of them, he decided.
Fully at ease now, Mulder cocked his head and regarded Scully.  
"Is Mademoiselle thirsty?"

"She is," was her reply.

Shifting a bit, he opened the basket and first removed two
plastic imitation champagne flutes.  He set each one down on
the blanket, where they balanced precariously due to the grass
beneath.  Scully lowered herself to rest on her elbow and 
reached out her free hand to steady both flutes with her 
fingers.

She acknowledged his glance of appreciation with a wink and
watched as he reached into the basket and pulled out a bottle
of sparkling grape juice.  "Wouldn't do to have two Federal
Agents found passed out *and* trespassing, now would it?" he
asked with a mock seriousness.

"Indeed," she replied similarly, clearly fighting to maintain
a sober expression.

He filled each glass about three quarters full and re-capped
the bottle before putting it securely back inside the basket. 
Then he lifted her flute and handed it to her before lifting
his own.  They clicked the flutes together carefully, both
murmuring 'Cheers'. 

After they had each taken a sip, he put his glass aside and
next retrieved a Tupperware bowl of green grapes.  Peeling the 
lid off carefully to avoid spilling them, he tossed it into 
the basket.  He then placed the bowl on the ground between he 
and Scully.

Scully grinned when she saw them, and remarked, "Am I sensing
a theme here, Mulder?"  At his puzzled look, she expounded, 
"Sparkling grape juice and grapes."

He shook his head.  "Nahhhh.  They're just nice and easy to
make."  Reaching into the bowl he found a plump target and
brought it up, leaning in to hold it to her lips.  "Open."

She did, and he popped it in her mouth, letting his thumb
linger for a moment.  "Mmmm," she said.  "Sweet."  Her lids 
fluttered as she added, "I've always wanted a man to feed me 
grapes.  But I think you're supposed to be wearing a loin 
cloth, aren't you?"

"Not gonna happen, Scully."

"A girl's gotta try."

They shared a grin and then Mulder reached for another grape,
once again bringing it to Scully's lips.  She opened them
obligingly, and he tapped her nose instead.  On her little 
laugh, he stuffed the grape inside.  Her warble of protest
made him smile.

In retaliation, Scully grabbed a grape and tossed it at his 
face.  But he was quick and opened his mouth in time, ducking
his head to catch the fruit, chewing his prize victoriously.

Another shared grin, and then Mulder was pushing the bowl
towards her.  "Throw another one, Scully," he urged, feeling
utterly relaxed and childishly playful, and loving every 
minute of it.

Giggling, she did, and he caught that one, and the next two,
as well.  On her next foray into the grape bowl however, she 
brought it up to her mouth instead, and started to bite down.  
He leaned in quickly and engaged her mouth in a kiss, 
skillfully stealing the grape in the process.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "I thought *you* were feeding me!"

"I'm sorry, Scully," he said with mock-repentance.  "Let me
atone."  He dragged the bowl closer to himself, and carefully
selected the most succulent grape of the bunch.  Bringing it
to his own mouth, he gently took hold of it with his front
teeth, leaving a good portion available.  Inching closer to
Scully, he tilted his head a little to the side and leaned in, 
bringing the grape towards her mouth.

She murmured, "Now this is more like it," and wrapped her lips 
around the grape, her eyes fluttering shut.  In the process, 
she also pressed her lips into his.  He poked the grape inside 
her mouth and let his tongue follow.  She sucked on it, and the 
grape, for a moment and then backed off, slowly chewing the 
soft fruit.

They took turns feeding each other grapes thusly, until Scully
declared herself full, voice clearly reluctant.  Recapping the
bowl, Mulder returned it to the basket, and then looked at
Scully, arching one eyebrow.  "I have pate," he told her.

She shook her head.  "Maybe in a little while."  Moving her 
flute out of the line of danger, inched closer to him.  "I 
want to stargaze with you."

Shifting onto his back, and crossing his feet at the ankles,
he held his arm out invitingly, and Scully moved in even more.
Snuggling into him, she laid her head on his shoulder, her 
hand coming to rest on his chest, just over his heart.

With his free hand, he gestured at the sky, pointing out 
constellations.  The Big Dipper and its counterpart the Little
Dipper were easily recognized by both, of course.  

"The Dippers are actually not constellations themselves, you 
know," Mulder said conversationally.  "They are asterisms,  
distinctive groups of stars that are part of the Ursa Major
and Ursa Minor constellations.  And Ursa Major is the third 
largest constellation in the sky."

He felt Scully nod against his shoulder, heard her small hum 
of acknowledgment.  Her quiet voice added information about 
one of the stars that made up Ursa Minor.  "Polaris is the 
first star my father taught me about," she shared.  "He said 
that it was considered to be the most important star for 
navigation of the sea."

"Another Latin name for Polaris is 'navigatoria', or 'the
navigator's star'," Mulder pointed out.  "Lends credence to
the theory, doesn't it?"

"Mm-hmmm," was her response.  Though she sounded as if she
were sleepy, her hand had been keeping a steady rhythm 
stroking up and down his chest for the last few minutes,
inducing a pleasurable tingling within Mulder.  Awakening
other feelings and sensations as well.

Yet he was in no hurry to hasten the inevitable, the slow
dance that had begun earlier when he had picked her up 
outside her mother's house.  Nor did Scully seem to be, 
though she had shifted to rise up on her elbow.  She was 
now staring at him contemplatively.

He was surprised when she leaned in to nip at his jaw line
and thus made a low, rumbling sound in question.  She 
murmured her response in his ear, the breathy sound causing 
him to shiver.  "Do you know how beautiful you are in the 
moonlight, Mulder?"

Beautiful was a word to describe her, not him.  He shook
his head, opening his mouth to protest, but rearing back so 
that their gazes met, she placed her hand over his lips, 
stopping him.  

"You are," she insisted, seeming to know what he had been 
about to say.  Again he tried to speak, prepared to 
catalogue his faults, and she pressed harder with her 
fingers.  Her look grew more intense, more intimate.  "In 
my eyes, you are a very beautiful man."

Slipping her fingers away, she darted in and replaced them 
with her mouth.  She began to wage a full-out assault, using 
lips and tongue and teeth.  Both of her hands got involved 
as well, moving up to frame his face as she rolled herself 
on top of him, her legs straddling his hips.

In reaction, his own hands came up and he clutched at her 
hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh, a low moan
escaping from deep in his throat.  The tingling within him
increased to an all-out blaze.

When she released his lips at last, she started peppering
his face with tiny kisses, interspersing each one with 
commentary.  His left eyebrow, "Beautiful," and then his 
right, "Beautiful."  His nose, always a sore spot with
him, earned an emphatic, "Beautiful," and then both cheeks
received the same treatment, and his jaw line as well, on
each side, followed by his chin.  At last she returned to
his lips, although she punctuated this short, hard kiss 
with, "Sexy."

Rising to a sitting position, Scully delicately traced the 
index finger of her right hand along the same path she had 
decorated with kisses, starting at his left eyebrow.  When 
she reached his mouth, she let her finger linger on his 
bottom lip, repeating softly, reverently, "Beautiful."  
Quirking her eyebrow, she added, "Sexy."

She was more than his one in five billion, she was a balm
for his soul.  Mulder smiled at her and then said half-
hopefully, half-playfully, "I might need another lesson, 
Scully."

"I'm always ready to oblige," she returned with equal 
playfulness.  But instead of obliging, she brought her hands 
up and began undoing the buttons of her shirt.

His pulse leapt and his mouth went dry.  He had to swallow 
several times before he was able to ask, "Scully, what're
you doing?"

"I'm unbuttoning my shirt, Mulder," she replied calmly.

As the lacy edges of her bra came into view, he sighed, 
"Yeahhh."  Higher brain function took a moment to get back 
online for him to say, "Not that I'm complaining, believe 
me, but...oh boy."

Those two words were uttered as she finished with the last 
button and then parted her shirt.  She smirked as she 
repeated them with a teasing lilt, "Oh boy?"

"Cut me some slack here, Scully," he returned, unable to
tear his gaze away from her shadowy cleavage, his breathing
already ragged.  "I'm having an epiphany."

Agreeably, she said, "I'll just take care of your belt while
you're busy, then," and danced her fingers down his chest
and abdomen to the waistband of his jeans.

Muscles skittering at her touch and his pulse now racing out 
of control, Mulder still had the presence of mind to recall 
that they were in a public place.  "Scully," he said with a 
touch of desperation and hope, "How far we going here?"

She paused in mid-unbuckling of his belt and cocked her head
slightly to one side, regarding him with both affection and
amusement.  Lids lowering to half-mast, the look became 
sensual, seductive, and she held his gaze as her fingers 
resumed their task.  When the belt had been dealt with, she 
plucked at the button of his jeans and then slowly and 
tortuously slid his zipper downward, mindful of his erection.  
"Far," she murmured.

"Scully."  Was that really his voice, whisper-thin and shaky?  
As shaky as his hands, which were clutching convulsively on 
her delicate wrists.  Twitching and desperate to touch her, 
anywhere.  Everywhere.  "We're outside," he said, inanely.

"Under the stars," she agreed, nodding.  Her knuckles brushed 
over his cock, and even through the cotton of his briefs the 
touch was electric, had him bucking beneath her.

One last protest, and then he was going for broke.  Awed and
incredibly aroused by this woman and her surprising, and yet 
not so surprising, sense of adventure and daring.  She was
his partner, after all.  "Are you sure, Scully?"

The look she gave him was pure lust.  "Very sure, Mulder."

"Oh boy."

She swooped in then, and covered his slightly open mouth with 
hers, her tongue delving inside to tangle with his.  At the
same time one of her hands swept up under his tee shirt to 
tease at his nipples.  She had also shifted slightly so that 
her pelvis rested squarely on his erection and now she began 
rocking...slowly, erotically. 

Her multi-tasking skills were to be admired, Mulder thought 
muzzily, and then completely forgot anything but the excitement 
humming through his veins.

Though he did remember to bring his own hands into the action,
sliding them under her shirt to stroke over the satin skin of
her back.

Releasing his mouth, Scully panted her next thought along his
cheekbone.  "We can have more foreplay later, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, and watched slack-jawed as she first sat 
up and then rose to her knees.  A second later his body felt 
bereft as she stood up completely to work at the button and 
zipper of her khakis.  The pants were discarded rather quickly, 
along with her white panties.  But it was her reproachful
voicing of his name that made him realize he was supposed to 
have removed his clothing instead of staring -- admiringly, 
hungrily -- at the glow of moonlight on her bared legs and the 
shadowed vee at her thighs.

It didn't matter, her fingers were quicker and her coordination
more accurate -- she had his jeans and briefs down to his
ankles faster than he could say 'Reticulan'.  Before he could 
attempt to kick them completely free of his legs, Scully had 
once again straddled his hips.

The fingers of her right hand encircled his cock and squeezed 
once before stroking down to the base, holding him steady as 
she slowly lowered herself onto his hard flesh.

She let out a half-sigh/half-moan, which was echoed by his
strangled groan.  Mulder scrunched his eyes shut and willed 
himself not to move yet, letting her make her adjustments.

Settled at last, her hands came to rest on his abdomen, and
she renewed her slow rocking.  He brought his hands to her
hips and mirrored her movement, their bodies in perfect
synch. 

"There's something about...being outside," Scully languidly
vocalized as they rocked together.  "That element of...danger
...the risk of being...caught..."  Her voice trailed off and 
she bit her lower lip on a soft hitching breath.

This was something he had always suspected about her, and had 
always wanted to explore.  Although Mulder did not consider
himself an exhibitionist, he *was* rather adventuresome and
willing to experiment, as well as extremely comfortable with
his sexuality.  And then there was the fact that being with
Scully had further awakened his sexual appetite.  Unbelievably
so.  Had brought about an insatiability he could not, and did 
not want to deny.

It had been icing on the cake to discover Scully shared some 
of those tendencies, particularly in the insatiability
department.  Several sessions of marathon love-making came
to mind, some instigated by Scully, others by him, and yet
others by mutual lustful consent.  And satisfaction, of 
course.

Realization of the validity of her comment dawned on him then.  
There was a very strong possibility that they could be caught 
despite his prior arrangements with his neighbor George.  
However, that possibility, along with this apparent emergence 
of Scully's wild side, served to elevate his arousal rather 
than detract from it.  To elevate his need, his hunger.

"I love...courting danger with you...Scully," he expressed
with far less languidness than she had employed, his voice
raspy and deep.  His grip on her hips tightened, and he 
attempted to urge her into a more...productive pace.

She resisted, a siren's smile curving her lips.  "Patience
is a...virtue, Mulder."

He bit his lip, certain his expression was tortured.  Still,
he rallied, his voice just this side of breathless,  "All 
good things...*come*...to those...who wait, Scully?"

"Mmmmmm, yes," she returned, eyes slipping shut and her 
voice rather breathy as well.  It was gratifying to know she 
was not unaffected.  "Virtue is its own...reward."

His mouth opened to deliver another comeback, but it was lost 
as she contracted her inner muscles, robbing him of speech 
and coherent thought.  Back arching helplessly, he could only 
moan her name in desperation.  She repeated the motion, and 
this time he bucked his hips.

Apparently Scully liked that movement, for he recognized her
gasp as one of surprised pleasure.  He lifted his hips again, 
and she responded by grinding herself against him.

"Again," she whispered insistently, the expression on her face
beautiful in its fierceness.  "Faster."

Mulder complied readily, eagerly, and thus began a new rhythm
that suited them both.

In mere minutes, though time had really become meaningless
with the hazy waves of pleasure coursing through his body,
Scully tensed and emitted a little cry, and then convulsed
around him.

Her climax triggered his, and Mulder crested those waves, 
shouting her name hoarsely into the star-lit night sky.

Once he had finally stilled, except for the rapid rising and
falling of his chest, Scully collapsed atop him, burying her
face in the hollow of his neck, her legs sliding between his
outspread ones.  She shivered then, though she murmured his 
name contentedly.

Bringing his arms up to wrap around her, he stroked one hand
soothingly up and down her back.  She moved into and with
the motions, like a cat, and it made him smile.  It wouldn't
surprise him if she started to purr, he felt that way himself.
Sated and replete. 

But now that he was no longer oblivious to their surroundings,
Mulder could feel the slight chill in the air, the wind that
rustled Scully's hair against his skin. 

"As much as I would love to just lie here with you, Scully,"
he said regretfully, "I think we should at least get dressed."

She made a protesting sound, but allowed him to nudge her off 
of him, onto her side.  He rose up on one elbow and stretched 
his other arm out to reach into the picnic basket.  Fingers 
searching by feel, he located a cloth napkin, which he pulled 
free, presenting it to Scully with a small flourish.  Scully 
accepted it with a quiet thanks, and they both got up and 
proceeded with the business of getting clothed.

He finished before her, with nothing to don, merely to pull up 
and re-button, so he assisted her with the buttons of her shirt.  
Hesitating after the last one, he used the shirt to tug her 
against his body.

As naturally as breathing she fit herself into him, her arms 
wrapping tightly around his waist and her head nestling under 
his chin with easy, comfortable familiarity.  Her feet were
tucked between his, and his arms caged her in, fingers splayed 
on her back.  A random thought entered his head -- Scully was
surrounded by him, his body, his scent.  His love.  He tipped 
his head down and pressed a kiss on the part of her hair, his
hands pressing her even closer against him.

Scully answered with a hum of contentment and a light scratch 
of her fingernails just underneath his waistband.  The ticklish 
sensation had him twisting slightly to one side, a chuff of 
laughter escaping.

Ensconced in his hold, Scully twisted with him, their bodies 
moving in a makeshift dance.  It occurred to Mulder then that
they had never been out dancing as a couple, and he made a 
mental note to rectify that matter in the very near future.  
In the meantime, they could dance here.  His hips kept their 
bodies in motion, swaying gently from side-to-side, as he 
hummed a melody aloud.  Elvis Presley's Love Me Tender, one 
of his favorites.

After a few seconds, he heard Scully singing along in a soft 
and breathy tone, and he smiled again.  She sounded young and
carefree, which suited the image he was sure they were
projecting -- dancing barefoot in the moonlight without benefit 
of music.

A rather strong gust of wind swirled by them then, and Scully
shivered in his arms.  Pressing another kiss to her head, he
murmured, "I think it's time to head out, Scully."

She nodded her agreement, cheek rubbing against his chest, and
then lifted her head to peer up at him, her eyes conveying her
gratitude and love.  The power of that look nearly brought him 
to his knees in adoration.  He mouthed, 'I love you,' and 
watched her eyes close and open in a slow blink, watched a 
radiant smile curve her lips.
 
Letting his arms fall away, he took a step back, and watched 
her do the same.  The ephemeral spell broke suddenly and they 
moved in synchrony to silently slip on their shoes before 
starting to gather up the picnic items.  Their gazes met every 
so often, and small smiles were exchanged. 

Once the basket had been packed, the blanket re-folded, and
Scully had donned her sweater, Mulder held out his free hand 
to her.  She slipped her hand within and their fingers curled 
together easily, warmly.

Their walk out of the park was not the leisurely stroll their
entrance had been.  A quicker pace had them at the gate in 
minutes.  Mulder thanked George yet again, as did Scully, and
then they were heading to the car.

Seated and seat-belted, Mulder inserted the key in the ignition, 
but before starting the car, he turned his head to regard Scully.  
When she quirked her eyebrow at him, he said, "I know it wasn't 
exactly to plan, but did I make your fantasy come true, Scully?"

Her eyebrow lifted higher and a hint of a smile curved her lips.  
The tone of her voice was dry, though there was laughter beneath.  
"Mulder, I saw stars."

Grinning in appreciation, he quipped, "So, your place or mine?"

"Mine."

***

The End