Title: You belong to me
Author: Cher A.
Email: Ximina@hotmail.com
Archive: Yes
Category: MSR, S/A, M/A, alternating POV
Spoilers: Mainly "Never Again" but there's quiet a few...
Summary: Scully is confused and Mulder is pushing her..
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me, neither
do * The X-Files * they belong to CC & 1013.
Feedback: Yep, yep, yep!
Author's note at the end.
*************************************************

The knock on the door belonged to Diana Fowley. Mulder
glanced back at me then stepped out to the hallway.
Obviously, he intends this conversation to be a private
matter. I can't hear what she is saying to him. The muffled
sounds of their voice are unbearable. I would like to stand
and get closer, listen to the words and find out what she
wants. I don't trust her. I don't like her. She has already
had a part of him that I can't touch.

Diana is holding both his hands, staring into his face, her
head tilted in what I would call a coy posture. Her lips are
curved in a half smile and her eyes lowered. I can't see his
face. She laughs at something he is saying. Then she turns
to go, throwing back a look with a pout on her lips and a
glance in my direction before Mulder blocks her from my sight
as he comes through the door.

"Mulder, what did she want?"

"Nothing....just needed a personal favor."

"A personal favor is not nothing. Does she want to be your
partner again?"

"Forget Diana, she and I... we've been over for years."
His look is questioning, not sure where I am coming from. Hell,
I don't know where I'm coming from or going to with this.

"You let her call you Fox. You told me to call you Mulder."

"As a way to keep you distant, which I might add, failed
miserably. Besides, you know I hate that name."

"I should have been with you at the reactor."

"Then who would have stayed with Gibson?"

"I've always followed you, trusted you, and believed in you
and our quest. But when I needed you to follow me, you went
with her."

"You didn't ask me to go with you Scully."

"I didn't think I needed to. But if I had asked, whom would
you have picked? Would it have been the past tried and true
or me and my science? My truth, only with corroborated or
hard evidence?" Those words are bitterly spoken.

"Scully, why are you being so snippy?" The annoyance in his
voice accelerates the simmering of the rage I am barely
controlling.

"I'm not." That bald statement earns me a Mulder "yeah
right" look. "You have an answer for everything, don't you."

"Is that what this is? Twenty questions?" I can feel the
intensity of his stare and it is disconcerting. I do not
want to continue this diatribe but I can't help myself, my
emotions have escaped my control.

"I asked you once to trust me and you responded by asking me
if I wanted you to make a choice. In retrospect, I am now
admitting that I did want you to make a choice. But I
couldn't ask you then. I was afraid then, as I am afraid
now, that your choice would not be me. You told me I
completed you. I never told you that it is the same for me.
You are the part of me that reaches for the moon, the
intuition that is based not on tangible fact but belief.
I love you, Mulder."

I told him.

And so I stared at him. My eyes wide, pouring every emotion
I was feeling now. But all he did was look, watch my
expressions, and watch me as if I were a chameleon blending
my colors into the background, watching me as if he didn't
like what he was seeing. I could feel the tears rising
to my eyes, the sadness.

Telling him was wrong.

I can't take his silence anymore. I turn away from him, a
few steps and I was out the door. In his hallway I break
into a run. I need to get away from here, get away from the
place where I made a fool of myself, and possibly changed
our beautiful friendship.

"Scully! Wait!"

I hear him yell out my name. But it is to late, my courage
is gone and I can't face him again. So I continue my
headlong flight down the stairwell and out of his apartment
building, racing against him and my impulse to stop. Rushing
around the obstacle in my way, not stopping for anything.

When I feel safe and look, I can see his figure in my rear
view mirror, standing in the street motionless. My foot
almost hits the brakes, I want to stop and return. But the
tears coursing down my face and my mind replaying the scene
I created is an embarrassment. So I drive away.

I drive aimlessly with no intention of stopping. I have no
destination. But at some point I did stop, I don't remember
when, but I did. I find myself at the university, in the
midst of students and faculty scurrying to their destinations
as I wander through the campus. What would I have been, had
I chosen not to go into medicine? What if I didn't join
the FBI? Would have, could have, should have, all nonsense
words since I chose my past. I have always made a point of
not second guessing my choices; it does me no good, I can't
change the past.

I like the anonymity a student has in the classroom. I
enjoyed my academic career. Maybe I should return to teaching.
I've taught at Quantico several times, and though the short periods
I taught there were enjoyable, the prospect of a steady, unending
litany of days that stretched into years brought bile to my throat.

I am comfortable being in the field, used to handling cases,
looking for leads, any evidence that would solve my
particular case. I would feel the dissatisfaction in the
teaching sooner than later. I enjoy the mental challenge
these cases provide. I don't really want to leave it.

My feet are tired from all my walking and I can hear my
stomach complaining. With these prompting me, I look for the
commons. It is a large open area, reminiscent of grade
school cafeterias but for the vinyl chairs and small alcoves
more along the line of a very badly furnished ski lodge.
Funny, how changes cycle. I suppose it's part of human
nature to strive for newness, and in embracing it, cling to
the past through incorporation.

A prime example is the pair of young women who sit behind
my alcove. They are probably nineteen, their parents putting
them through school, and I overhear their conversation,
concerned more about partying than scholastics. My initial
glance at them, the denim bell-bottom pants and the shirts
tight and horizontally stripped, fashion which in the seventies was
garish at best and with this X generation adopting it makes me
cringe. So I sit speculating on fashion, youth, and choices.
In doing so, I made my choice, to deceive, inveigle, obfuscate
myself and pretend everything is fine.

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

She said it. She said loves me. It is so hard for her to
admit she loves me. This emotion, this love we share scares
her.

I understand why she might think I don't find her beautiful.
I've flirted and thrown innuendo her way through the years of
our partnership and never made a move on her. She thinks my
type is the silicone based Barbie dolls I watch on
video. This couldn't be further from the truth. I've dated
women that look that particular type. The women she has seen
me with, are that type and nothing like her. There is no one
like her.

She is my one in five billion.

I grab my keys and walk out the door. When she goes home
I'll be there, waiting for her. Waiting for her as I've
always been.

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

It is late. The drive home was cathartic as was the
unplanned day. I've spent my time in the little booth
people watching, speculating on their inadequacies and
pushing away my own problems. All the unresolved issues
remain as they are and someday I'll deal with them. Right
now I need a bath and some sleep.

The key is inserted into the lock and turned. When I push
the door open he was there, sitting in the settee; the
street lamp scarcely illuminates his sitting form.

"What are you doing here, Mulder?" It is a stupid question.
I know why he is here; though I don't understand why he
chooses to confront our circumstance now. But I know why
he's here, he wants to know why I ran. He wants me to
explain my actions so he can explain his, or lack of it.
I don't want to hear him. I don't want to explain myself to
him. I just want to be left alone, to curl up inside myself
forgetting my boldness.

I close the door, turning my back on him briefly. He quietly
attacked me with his words.

"Soul mates. We've journeyed together before, Scully, always
as part of my spirit. You are my truth, my constant, my
human credential. In this lifetime I do not want to change
that. Nor do I want to change it in the next. And regardless
of what you think, my faith in this bond that we share will
never change. I want to walk with you forever Scully. You
are my Soul's mate, now and forever."

It is benediction Mulder has offered me done in the coldest
voice I've heard come from him. I am unable to see his
expressions.

"Melissa Ephasian, she was supposed to be your soul mate." I
can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Maybe in my past; but not now. I chose you in this life."
He moves deeper into the shadow, his body, now an outline
against the dim light and his face cloaked in darkness.

"It's my life Mulder."

"Yes, you've said that before."

"I don't want your pity, Mulder. I saw the way you looked at
Diana when we were working on the Gibson Price case. How she
looked at you. I am not beautiful, but I do know that I am
attractive enough to interest a man."

"Yeah, Ed Jerse."

"At least he made me feel alive and gave me an illusion of
control."

"This need of yours Scully, is it purely physical?"

His question was startling, and I don't know how to answer.
He continued looking in my direction. I can't read him right
now. The emotions I use to gage his reactions are not where
they normally reside.

"What do you want from me?" I whispered, confused.

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

"Take off your clothes." Her mouth has dropped open, not
believing my response to her declaration. I sink deeper
into the darkness hiding from her pained eyes. Years have
gone by and we have remained apart, in some cases emotionally
but definitely in the physical sense.

How did we do it? How can we be so connected and so far off
base with each other? Her soul can answer my silent questions.
I can feel her fears. We love each other; we know we love
each other.

Why can we not get past that particular kernel of knowledge?

I love her. I've told her three times. Once she thought I
was high on drugs, the two other times I told her in more words
than the "I love you" can express. I didn't intend to love her
it just became so.

I am a coward when it comes to love. Everyone I've loved
has had terrible things happen to them. But I've been trying
to make my peace with that little abnormality in my psyche.
And while I had been working on that, I had also been
polished my heart, cleaned it, made it bright and shiny for
her to keep for as long as she wants. But when I gave it to
her, she barely recognized it for what it was.

She took my offering and put it in a drawer labeled "Mulder's
Heart", probably next to the drawer called "Emily". Sometimes
I wonder if she remembers it is in her keeping. Does she
even know it belongs to her?

Sometimes I want to hurt her for that. I want to make her
realize how much she has hurt me by not acknowledging my gift.
I didn't expect anything, least of all a declaration, but it
feels like she spurned my affection. I know she didn't mean
to, she still hasn't faced our relationship. And I don't want
to hurt her; I would rather put a bullet in my head than cause
her pain. But this monster between us has to die.

"What do we have Scully?" She is so vulnerable. She is so
open tonight.

"A connection? A trust?" She has told me what I have wanted
to hear. But I want it all. It's time to push her. Time to
see how far she will go before she runs again. I have to
find her escape route and wall it up before she realizes it
is blocked, then force her to face our demons.

"Scully, I want to take you in my bed. I want to hear you
moan, my name on your lips. I need to see your naked body,
to touch you with my hands, my mouth. I want your taste on
my lips, your scent in my nostrils." So I will ask her for
what I want most.

"I want more than a connection Scully. I want you to belong
to me."

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

He has taken one of the decisions away from me. There is a
relief in this. Hearing his desire for me is frightening and
exhilarating. But his verbalization "I want..." I want this
also. My hand moves to the button of my blazer, opening it
as I walk to him, standing in front of his seat. I shrug
out of my jacket, jeans, blouse almost like taking off my
clothes before I go to bed, though this time leaving on
panties and bra. Like a mannequin I am still: facing him,
though unable to see him.

"Take it all off."

I hoped he would say more, a declaration of his love, but
nothing, only silence as I remove the remaining garments.
Now I am truly bare, he knows what is in my heart, my brain
and he will soon know my body. I begin to shiver. I know
what he wants. He wants me to look at him, to read his eyes.
I can't help feeling shy, my body is infused in a blush.

Long moments pass, still no movement from him, no word.
There is something erotic about my situation. Standing
before Mulder naked, while he sits in darkness, fully clothed.
My need is growing. I need acknowledgment from him.

He is moving slowly, almost languidly out of the chair. He
smiled a crooked smile at me. I finally meet his eyes. And
I see it, I see it all, gentleness, acceptance, burning
desire, love. I am on fire.

He is towering over me, not unusual, but normally I am
wearing 3 1/2 in heels. He is so close, the heat from his
body radiating, into me, one inch and I would be against him.
I feel his hot breath against my ear.

"You belong to me." He whispers.

My eyes close as I nod a yes.

I feel his hand go to my sex. There is no soft exploration
of my body. A finger slips inside me. I am wet, ready for
him. The finger is withdrawn, the intruding digit now in
his mouth, tasting my juices. I shudder, closing my eyes
and I feel my world tilting. He is carrying me to my bed.
I am glad. I was not sure what I was expecting, but bed was
not one of them.

He lowers me gently on top of the cold covers. Then chastely
kisses me on the forehead, butterfly kisses against my lips.
My thighs are being spread open by his hands, caressing the
soft flesh of my inner thighs. Then he stands. He removes
his shoes and socks, the rasp of his zipper is a scream in my
ears.

I knew what actions were taking place in a small portion of
mind, but am only now realizing what is happening, what is
about to happen. My eyes are open. He is like a tree, tall,
strong, bendable in the storm, always reaching for the sky.
The intensity usually focused on the quest is now reaching
for me. It is frightening and exhilarating.

Oh God. It has been years since I've been with a man, I
don't know if I remember what a man likes. My eyes move to
his cock protruding from the wiry dark curls. He is large.
He still has on his clothing, the denim and boxers riding
low, barely on his hips. The grace in his body is apparent
by his agile movement onto the bed. I feel defenseless
against him and begin to shake. He bumps against my belly
when he moves over me, settling most of his weight on my
body. He has pinned me to the bed and I am truly unable to
escape. He captures my lips in a searing kiss.

"Mul-" His finger is across my lips, silencing me.

"You belong to me." He says.

Yes, yes I do! I want to scream at him, unable to speak.
The head of his cock is bumping at my entrance. Slowly he
enters a bit at a time, letting me get used to his thickness.
His lips are caressing my face. It seems so unreal. Then
he is fully inside me, buried so deeply.

It is pleasure. It is pain.

"Christ" He groans in my neck. "You're so tight, so wet.
I'm sorry" And his mouth is grinding against mine, as his
hips pound fast and hard against my pelvis.

The feeling is unbearable. My head is thrown back, my legs
are around his waist and his tongue is deep inside my mouth,
probing. Soon he is shuddering, having reached his climax
and I am left with an ache, unfulfilled physically.

My body is confused. I can feel the discharge from his body
leaving mine, dripping down my thighs onto the bed when he
withdraws from me. He has collapsed on top of me, still
inside my embrace.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." He whisper holds many nuances,
promises. I do not know what he has in mind next, but I
will be here, waiting and receptive. He had briefly left my
side to undress then pulled the covers over us before he
snuggled me into his embrace.

My body is still in a state of shock. I feel like a newly
opened virgin, my muscles protesting already against the
ravaging I had received. But the soreness does not matter.
And certainly his pleasure was paramount to me. Isn't it?

"I belong to you." I whisper to him. Then I am drifting into
sleep.

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

I'm a bastard for putting her through this emotional trip.
I heard her say it. While our coupled souls know
intrinsically what the other half means, it's still a relief
to hear the verbal affirmative. I needed to hear her say
this. For me it is better than 'I love you'. Our awareness
of each other is unmatched. We love so deeply that those
three little words which mean so much to some people has
lost it's meaning for me.

My arms tighten a fraction around the sleeping woman. My
best friend, my lover, my soul mate. Our first time together
and I act like an animal. I can only hope I haven't hurt her
to badly, physically or emotionally.

I don't know how long I have lain here with her in my arms;
it feels like moments, it may be hours. But the sweetness of
her weight is arousing. My hands, once content to hold her
now itch to explore the softness and textures of her body.
But where to start?

If she could only see the grin on my face as I disengage and
move slowly away from her embrace, careful not to wake her.

Her beautiful breasts, perfectly sized for her body. I touch
both nipples with a finger, lightly stroking in circular
motions. Both respond, hardening deliciously. My mouth
closes over one, holding it between my lips gently.

Hhmm. No response from my sleeping partner.

I start suckling as I flick the other teat softly with my
finger. The milky skin, smooth and creamy is in the palm of
my hand. Her skin is so soft. I knead her flesh
delicately, enjoying the sight of my hand, my fingers
caressing her breast. My mouth moves between the valley of
her breasts, and I stifle the urge to nuzzle my face between
her breasts, lest she waken. My tongue is leaving a wet
caress as I sample her lovely contoured chest. My hands
travel down her sides, to the curve of her small waist.

She is so small I can only marvel at how strong and competent
her body and mind is. My hands rest at her waist; waiting
for my lips to catch up. And my lips will, after I've
explored the pleasing curve of her abdomen. Then I smell
her. I can't resist. I push her legs gently apart, taking
a deep breath.

The scent of her body makes me lightheaded. I inhale deeply,
my eyes closing, feeling faint. The pink protruding bundle
of nerves entices me to taste with a flick of my tongue. She
tastes like spiced honey; sweetness with a zing. Back to her
clit, laving it with the flat of my tongue, back and forth.
Then stroking with the tip of my tongue side to side until
it has swollen to more than twice it's size.

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

Is this a dream? I think I open my eyes; a moan escapes my
lips. In my mind I see Mulder's head between my legs,
plying that dexterous tongue on my sensitive flesh. I must
still be asleep. I've dreamt like this so many times that
it is not a shock, though this time sensations accompany
the dream.

Better go back to sleep to recapture the dream. I shut my
eyes willing myself to fall into a deeper sleep.

This is the best dream ever. The fire I feel in my body is
alternately hot and cold. The pleasure is piercing. I am
moaning. My eyes open. I wake fully to find Mulder
watching me through lust glazed eyes, his thick hard
erection deep inside me then pulled out again and again in
a slow motion rhythm as his thumb circles my clitoris driving
me insane. I am gone, crying out my gratification as waves
of sensation overcome my body.

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

"I didn't hurt you?" She knows I'm asking about our first
time.

"It was a release Mulder."

"What about recently?" I grin at her, holding her lightly
in a loose circle of arms.

"Oh, that was good."

"Only good?" I may have been sex deprived in the last
seven years, but from past experience I know I'm better than
good. She's laughing. "Should I be insulted?"

"You are so testosterone based sometimes." I snicker.

"You're a doctor. You should know that hormone comes with
the territory."

"Yeah." Scully moved away from me, she's laying flat on her
back and her face is serious. "I need to confess a few
things to you."

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

"There's always been a dominating figure in my life. Someone
strong, I could center my life around." I spoke softly
finally speaking the truth to myself and to him. "I
worshipped my father. I would have done anything he
wanted." I paused, unsure how he would take my next
admission. "Ed Jerse... that indiscreet fiasco with him... he
listened and he understood Mulder. He feed on my confusion
and rebellion, and I enjoyed absolute approval from him. For
a brief moment I let him dominate me even if it was physical
and I fed on it."

"I'm not you're father, Scully. You don't need my approval
for anything." A mocking laugh escapes him. "It should
be me, asking for your approval." Then a growl tickles my
ear causes me to laugh. "But any time you want manhandling
Scully, I'm the boy for you."

"Gee Mulder, next time you'll be the first to know." I look
at his beautiful eyes and see the tenderness displayed for
me. I have to turn away and finish my confession before I
start crying.

"You're smart, Mulder, and strong. You've accomplished more
on any given day because of your drive and the strength of
your beliefs than most men do in their lifetimes. You've
sustained your faith at the most discouraging of times. And
when lost you've found something else to place the faith
with. I've had to borrow your strength and faith so many
times already. In the beginning wanted to prove myself to
you, I wanted to stand strong by myself and be treated as
an equal. And you did, you behaved the way I wanted you to,
within the boundaries I set. Our differing opinions
metaphysically and scientifically you respected. Though you
don't realize this you became the dominating force in my life,
and I craved your approval. I couldn't perceive it and I
felt like you pushed me away. Then watching you with Diana,
trusting her, I felt betrayed."

"I didn't realize -"

"How could you?" I interrupt him, wanting to continue. "On
top of that, because of the way you behaved toward me, I felt
like I was an extension of you. I didn't know where I
began with you and where I ended." I stared at the ceiling,
not wanting to look at him.

"Why is that so bad? You are an extension of my soul and I
would be bereft without you."

"I became so consumed with standing alone and being strong
so you wouldn't feel like you had to protect me you that I
forgot there was no shame in needing someone. Consequently,
we've suffered for my rebellion."

"Scully, I see the way you love me. I see how you feel
every time I look into your clear blue, blue eyes." He
moved gathering her close to his chest. "You tell me all
the time how much you love, with the touch of your hand and
your words and by your presence in my life. You have such
a capacity for love that I will never have. You've made me
real beyond my quest. I've always belonged to you. The
manifestation of my heart and soul has been your creation."

And in the light of our current communication, I see him for
what he is, the man who adores me. He is a man who wants to
love me for what I am now. I want to be with him, body and
soul. I love him. And they say Mulder's the emotional
cripple; I barked a derisive snort. No one would ever
believe it could be me.

"I'm still confused... about a lot of things." I turned on
my side, facing away from him.

"We can work through the confusion. Scully... Dana, do you
need the words? You know now, don't you?" His body tightened
around me pliable against him; drawing he into a chrysalis of
his making. I shake my head.

"Yes, it's our life." I sighed and snuggled closer. "And we
belong to each other."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder - The truth will save you, Scully...I think it will
save both of us. "Memento Mori"


Thanks for sticking with me so far! Now on to the note:

I have always believed that Scully was a
little more stable between the two, but in "Never Again"
Scully made a startling admission to Ed Jerse. She said
she always had a strong presence in her life that she
craved approval from and eventually rebelled against.
Obviously she felt she was not receiving either from Mulder.

In CC world, Scully would have slugged Mulder for telling her
to "take of your clothes". I think it is plausible she would get naked,
1)she has the decision taken out of her hands 2)she was still
looking for Mulder's approval.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ximina's address: http://members.theglobe.com/ximina/default.html
Scully, I love you.- Mulder (Triangle)