TITLE: Somewhat Normal Life

AUTHOR: Octavian

RATING: NC-17 (For sex, language and sex. Did I 
mention sex? <g>)

CLASSIFICATION: MSR, RST, PWP, V, R, H, IMHO, YMMV

KEYWORDS: Mulder and Scully first-time sex. Yes, I 
wrote a first-time fic, but it's my first, so that 
makes it okay. That's my story and I'm sticking to 
it. <g>

SUMMARY: While it wasn't idyllic, he had to admit he 
was happier now with his somewhat normal life than he 
had been in many years. 

SPOILERS: "Hollywood AD" and "all things." "Requiem" 
and the long, nightmarish series of ridiculous plot 
devices (<cough!> William <cough!>) and character 
assassinations that followed never happened. "Fatal 
brain disease" my ass. 

DISTRIBUTION: Ephemeral, yes. Gossamer, yes. All 
others, sure, but please let me know.

DISCLAIMER: If Mulder and Scully belonged to me, they 
would be happily ensconced in a nice, cozy saltbox 
house on Cape Cod, with a couple of cats, a dog, and 
Mulder's fish. They would most certainly not be on 
the lam, staying in a series of dumpy motels, running 
to keep ahead of a mindless army of "supersoldiers." 

Feh. Bitter? Me? Nah... ;-)

FEEDBACK: Always welcomed at taverl@yahoo.com

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Hugs and kisses to a Beautiful Bevy 
of the Bestest Betas in the Business: Carrie, Buffy, 
Kelley, and Cathy - you *rawk*. :-) Special thanks to 
Blue (I'm not worthy! <g>), Sybil and the folks at 
Haven, and those who've been kind enough to send 
feedback. Thank you all so much for your 
encouragement for and welcoming me back. It's nice to 
be here again and I hope to stick around for a while.

------------------------------------

"Somewhat Normal Life" by Octavian

------------------------------------

"Mmmmmm...pointy."

Mulder chuckled absently as Homer Simpson devoured 
the plastic bride and groom from the top of a wedding 
cake while Marge looked on, horrified at the 
synthetic carnage. Continuing to listen with half an 
ear, Mulder worked on just-one-more-final-last-this-
is-it-I'm-really-done-this-time rewrite of his latest 
article. The editor at Omni had been breathing down 
his neck for a week, warning him that if he missed 
this deadline, they'd never accept another one of his 
submissions. Mulder took this with a grain of salt, 
knowing that M. F. Luder was one of the magazine's 
most popular contributing authors. In fact, the first 
installment of his crop circle exposÄ garnered more 
attention than any other report in that issue, giving 
him the ability to negotiate for a substantially 
larger fee. And if Omni didn't like his commitment to 
journalistic perfection, New Science and Scientific 
American already numbered D. Fulmer's pieces among 
their most popular and would certainly be glad to 
have his best buddy M. F. join their ranks.

Sometimes, Mulder thought with a grin, it's good to 
be me.

Besides, his writing and research had to be done 
during his off hours, and those were hard to come by 
in the X-Files. These last two cases had kept him 
away from home for much longer than he'd expected, 
and it was only with Byers' help that he hadn't come 
home to a tank-full of backstroking mooreheads and 
mollies. Despite his long absences, he usually lost 
only a couple of fish a year and he didn't plan to 
set any precedents now. His dedication to proper fish 
maintenance meant that he had to give the tank a 
thorough cleaning, as well as do laundry and catch up 
on his bills, before he could sit down and finish the 
second part of his examination of crop circle 
phenomena. 

Referring again to his notes and the photos he took 
on his last expedition to England, he thought of the 
circumstances surrounding his first, failed outing 
across the pond. Scully had certainly been in rare 
form that week.

No, he had to admit to himself, she'd been a bitch.

Though she might not realize it, he understood her 
frustration, understood fully what it was like to 
stand there, the first third of your life behind you, 
and wonder just what the hell you'd accomplished in 
the preceding three-plus decades. But he also 
understood that Scully was the smartest person he 
knew, and if she wanted to talk, if she needed a 
change, if she just wanted to get the hell out, she 
would. So, to listen to her snap at him like a 
fishwife, complaining about her lot in life as if he 
had forced it upon her...well, to say the least, it 
surprised him. But that surprise could not hold a 
candle to the shock she gave him upon his return, 
when she wove a tale of an affair with a married man, 
psychic healing, karma, lesbians - he'd paid 
particular attention to that one - and, finally, a 
message from God Him or Herself in a Buddhist temple.

He still wondered why the Supreme Deity would choose 
a place of worship for a belief system that had no 
supreme deity for such a revelation, but he kept that 
to himself. Besides, he had found an answer to his 
life-long search for his sister in "starlight." And 
just as the closure he'd found as a result of that 
experience had helped him come to terms with many of 
his issues, she seemed to have found a similar peace 
in her spiritual encounter. To each his or her own 
epiphany.

However un-Scullylike her experience may have been, 
it certainly had helped her open up a bit, just as 
his had done for him. They laughed a little more 
readily, were more at ease with each other, actually 
bantered with humor and a smile rather than derision 
and a scowl. It was almost like the old days when she 
was wet behind the ears, full of rational theories to 
counter his intuitive leaps, but still willing to 
listen with an open mind. And while they would both 
always carry with them the close calls and tragedies 
they'd experienced over the years, that weight seemed 
to have lessened.

Hell, she was even dating again.

Mulder looked up from his laptop to give his eyes a 
rest and glanced at the VCR's readout, taking a 
moment to bring it into focus. Just after 10:00. He 
wondered if Scully and her date were racking 'em up 
for another round of pool or if she was already 
tucked snugly into bed - and, if so, if she was there 
alone. The thought didn't exactly thrill him, but she 
was a mature adult and deserved to have fun as much 
as the next person. And while his dates had been few, 
he hadn't exactly been a monk, either.

United States Marshall Kevin Marshall had worked with 
them on solving a particularly convoluted series of 
disappearances in rural Virginia last month. Unlike 
other law enforcement officials in their experience, 
the unfortunately-titled Marshall Marshall had 
welcomed their assistance and worked hand-in-hand 
with them to finally solve the case. His quick wit 
and easy intelligence made him a valuable part of the 
investigation and Mulder had liked him immediately. 
But Scully had liked him more, and the feeling had 
obviously been mutual. While the young, light-skinned 
African-American cop didn't seem to fit what he 
thought of as Scully's "type," he was a far sight 
better than any of the other men Mulder was aware of 
her having dated. She seemed to be of the same 
opinion, and last week's lunch and a matinee had led 
to dinner and billiards tonight.

It didn't occur to him to be worried about a 
potential romance between his partner and her eager 
suitor. Even if a relationship did develop, Mulder 
knew that, in the end, he and Scully would be 
together. This certainty wasn't based in arrogance or 
pride, unlike his confidence in his ability from the 
free-throw line (86.7% lifetime average, thank you 
very much). He simply knew that Scully loved him as 
much as he did her. The knowledge was basic: the sun 
rose in the east, it set in the west, and Scully 
loved him. And even though the conspiracy they'd 
uncovered over the years might mean the long-term 
viability of the first two were questionable, the 
third was never in doubt. He'd made his feelings 
known, though Scully was obviously not ready to hear 
them at the time. 

No matter. When she was ready, he'd be here. 

In the meantime, he concentrated on enjoying their 
growing ease with one another, and finding a little 
peace in between battling monsters, conspiracies, and 
FBI budget cuts. And he occasionally availed himself 
of the company of a member of the single female 
population in and around the Beltway. While it wasn't 
idyllic, he had to admit he was happier now with his 
somewhat normal life than he had been in many years. 
Shaking off these musings, he returned his attention 
to his writing.

Less than an hour later, he had emailed his article 
to the editor, complete with insincere apologies for 
his lateness and even less sincere assurances that it 
would never happen again. Having changed into a t-
shirt and pajama bottoms, he was reclining on the 
couch when a knock on the door interrupted his 
channel surfing. While he wasn't unused to late-night 
visitors, most of them never bothered to knock before 
violating his rights in various and sundry ways, so 
he naturally assumed it was Scully. His assumption 
was proven correct when he opened the door to see her 
standing in the hall. She looked incongruous wearing 
her standard-issue FBI trench coat over a soft-
looking black sweater and faded jeans, shifting 
nervously from foot to foot in her clunky black 
loafers.

"Hey, Scully, what's up?" Opening the door wide, he 
gestured for her to enter, but she merely stepped 
forward and leaned against the doorjamb, her arms 
crossed. Looking uncomfortable, she nibbled on the 
inside of her lower lip, studiously avoiding making 
eye contact. "Scully?" He leaned down slightly, 
trying to get her to look at him. "Is anything 
wrong?" She finally met his eyes and shook her head. 
While it was obvious she had something on her mind, 
she didn't look particularly distressed. "Did 
something happen with Marshall?" He tensed, wondering 
if both of their opinions of the man had been wrong 
and he had somehow upset her.

The question, his tone, or both, finally got a 
response out of her. "Oh, no, Mulder, nothing 
happened. We had a really good time, actually." She 
took a deep breath, as if willing herself to relax. 
It seemed to work, and her shoulders moved a little 
farther away from her ears. She crossed her arms and 
looked him in the eye. "It was fun."

She didn't look like a woman who had just enjoyed a 
"fun" evening out with a date to him. Since she 
seemed determined to remain where she stood, he 
opened the door all the way and relaxed against it, 
crossing his arms in unconscious imitation of her 
pose. "And did the good Marshall Marshall get a 
goodnight kiss?" he asked with a smile, trying to 
lighten her mood.

She grinned in return and shook her head slightly. 
"Unfortunately not." Her smile grew. "Head turn."

Placing his hand on his chest, he gave her an 
exaggerated wince. "Oh, Scully, not the head turn." 
While a part of him experienced a sympathetic twinge 
of wounded male pride, another part couldn't help but 
be relieved. "Hug?" She nodded, visibly relaxing as 
he engaged her in their version of post-date girl-
talk. He eyed her warily, as if afraid of what her 
answer to his next question might be. "Back pat?" he 
asked hesitantly. Her grimace was softened by the 
upturn of her mouth as she slowly nodded. "Scully," 
he cried, in mock horror, "I thought you liked they 
guy and now you're practically giving him the 'Let's 
be friends' speech."

She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "What can I 
say, Mulder? He's a nice man, but there were just 
no...sparks."

He nodded in understanding. "So, what brings you to 
my door tonight, Scully?"

Her smile faded and she stared intently at his chin. 
"Well, I came by because I had too much to drink."

"You did?" She certainly could've fooled him. On an 
otherwise utterly forgetful trip to Hollywood earlier 
in the year, they'd painted the town and consumed 
more alcohol than either was used to. The sweet, 
tipsy kiss they'd shared at the end of the night had 
thrilled him and still had the power to make him 
smile. He clearly remembered that flushed and giggly 
woman who had trouble balancing on her three-inch 
heels and slurred her words when she spoke. That 
woman was definitely not standing before him now. 
"Are you sure? Because you sure don't seem drunk to 
me."

She fixed him an annoyed stare and tilted her head. 
"Just tell me I'm drunk, Mulder."

"Why?" He was really confused now. "I've seen you 
drunk...well, buzzed, before and you're not drunk."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she said, "Could you 
please not argue with me and just say that I'm 
drunk?"

Opening his mouth to ask her again what she was on 
about, it hit him. She was ready. After seven years 
of the most intense relationship either of them had 
ever known, she was finally ready to take the final 
step. But even now, she couldn't just let go, tell 
him she loved him, and let them get down to the 
business of getting down to business. Instead, she 
was covering her ass, giving them both an excuse in 
case there were any regrets. He didn't know which was 
more absurd: the excuse or the idea that it would be 
required. He smiled and couldn't resist teasing her 
just a bit. "But that would be a lie since you're 
obviously sober. What could possibly be gained by 
telling you you're drunk?"

Her mouth thinned and she moved away from the 
doorjamb. "Mulder, for once in your life could you 
*please* not argue with me and just tell me that I'm 
bombed?"

His grin widened. "'Bombed?' I seriously doubt you've 
been *bombed* since college, Scully. And you're still 
not making any sense. Coming over here after what you 
admitted was a perfectly good date, refusing to come 
in, insisting that I tell you you're drunk when 
you're clearly sober. Your behavior," he saw her open 
her mouth to interject, "while obviously not that of 
someone who's consumed excessive amounts of alcohol, 
is pretty damned bizarre." Her expression had become 
a definite scowl, her mouth turning down inverse to 
the amount his smile grew. "Did you take a cab over 
here, Scully?"

She seemed taken aback by his quick change of course, 
hesitating before replying, "No, I..."

"See what I mean?" he interrupted, warming to his 
point, "you would never get behind the wheel of a car 
if you thought you were even slightly impaired, much 
less drunk."

Suddenly, the collar of his t-shirt was digging into 
the back of his neck as she fisted the front of his 
shirt in her hands and pulled him toward her. "For 
God's sake, Mulder, would you just say, 'Scully, you 
are totally fucked up?' Can you do that for me 
without acting like I've just asked you to sign an 
oath swearing that the Earth is flat?"

Her eyes blazed up at him and despite the irritation 
in her voice, he could tell she was fighting the urge 
to smile. Gazing down at her, full of love and 
happiness, he couldn't help a chuckle as he said, 
"Scully, you are *so* totally fu-" before his words 
were stopped by her mouth covering his.

Unlike the peck they had shared after their night on 
the town, this kiss was passionate, sloppy, wet. Hot. 
Her tongue darted into his mouth, tracing his teeth 
and his soft palate, dancing against his tongue until 
it retreated back into her mouth and he had no choice 
but to follow. She tasted ever so faintly of beer, 
mixed with a thousand different flavors he couldn't 
define. But he planned to spend his life trying. She 
pulled away from him slowly and he followed, trying 
to maintain contact for as long as possible. When she 
finally disengaged her lips from his, his mouth 
remained in a slight pucker, ready and willing for 
her next assault.

Pupils dilated, face and neck flushed, hair mussed by 
his roving hands, lips reddened by his kisses, she 
was a study in passion. He suddenly wished he had 
some kind of artistic skill so he could record this 
moment for all posterity, capturing her wildness in 
chalks or inks or oils. Instead, he promised himself 
that the real thing would be his to gaze on at will 
from here on out instead of some pale two-dimensional 
likeness.

"Scully," he panted, his voice sounding strange and 
distant through the pounding of his pulse in his 
ears. She just stared at him, breathless, still 
holding his shirt in a death grip, looking as if 
speech comprehension was beyond her. He was entranced 
with this version of his partner, her normally razor-
sharp mind dulled by passion and desire for him. It 
was a heady feeling. Finally, she managed to raise 
her eyebrows and nod in weak reaction. He brought his 
hands up to frame her face, his eyes boring into 
hers.

"Tell me I'm drunk."

She laughed with him then, throwing her head back and 
joining him in celebrating the wonderful absurdity of 
the moment. He moved his hands to her shoulders, 
pulling her back to him to kiss her laughing mouth. 
Releasing her grip on his shirtfront, she moved her 
arms around his ribcage, her hands running down his 
back, plucking at the hem of his shirt on their trip 
back up his spine.

After years of having his apartment besieged by 
everything from psychotic mutant killers to bullet-
riddled informants with not so much as a peep from 
his neighbors, he knew this would be the moment one 
of them finally chose to emerge and see what was 
happening in #42. And what was happening currently 
was that Mulder had grabbed Scully around the hips, 
lifting her up to bring her face level with his. The 
small pain in his back was worth it to alleviate the 
growing ache in his neck. In a show of their fabled 
unspoken communication, she wrapped her legs around 
his waist. With one hand supporting her back, he 
staggered further into the apartment, flailing with 
his free hand until he could grab the edge of the 
door and slam it closed.

Still unsteady, both from carrying Scully's 
unaccustomed weight and lack of oxygen from her 
kisses, he let the momentum created by closing the 
door spin them slightly, causing them to bump against 
the wall next to the coat rack. With Scully securely 
held between the wall and his body, he let his hands 
roam over her legs, up her hips and under the soft 
fabric of her sweater to the softer skin beneath. She 
moaned into his mouth and ground her pelvis against 
his stomach as his fingertips brushed the sides of 
her breasts. Instinctively, he thrust his hips in 
response and was met with nothing but the empty air 
below where her legs gripped him.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, to get some air 
into his oxygen-starved lungs and to pay attention to 
her face and neck. Sucking on the sensitive skin 
behind her jaw, biting tenderly on the cords of her 
neck, covering her cheeks and forehead with small, 
quick kisses, all worked to drive her passion higher. 
Her hips continued to undulate against him and her 
fingers scrabbled at his sides, frantically trying to 
pull up his shirt even though her legs held it firmly 
in place. The pressure on his sides eased slightly as 
she loosened her grip on his waist in order to remove 
his shirt. In the process, her body moved south just 
enough to bring his barely-covered erection in direct 
contact her center, feeling the heat of her even 
through their clothes.

Her southward momentum was arrested when he thrust 
his hips into hers, grinding against her as if he 
could wear away the layers of fabric between them 
through friction alone. She groaned into his mouth 
and tightened her legs around him as his hands cupped 
her behind, squeezing in time with his movements. He 
felt something brush against his calves and dimly 
realized it was her shoes falling off her feet as she 
crossed her ankles behind his back.

Scully had managed to get his shirt bunched up under 
his armpits before he'd begun to rhythmically grind 
his pelvis against hers. Now she was digging her 
nails into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as 
she moaned and threw her head back. In her abandon, 
she bumped her head against the wall, and while it 
didn't sound hard enough to have hurt, it was enough 
to make him pause.

Scully's head appeared unsteady on her shoulders as 
she straightened up, blinking rapid as if she were 
having trouble bringing him into focus. Mulder would 
have worried about possible head injury if she hadn't 
looked that way even before hitting the wall. He 
stepped back slightly and put his hands on her waist, 
silently urging her to unwrap her legs from their 
clasp around his hips. Her expression was the epitome 
of "dazed and confused" and he leaned forward to kiss 
her as he felt her legs slide down the outside of his 
thighs. They continued kissing as Scully slid down 
the wall to regain her footing, and for a moment he 
was afraid she would just keep on going, until he 
realized she'd lost a few inches of height when she 
lost her shoes.

Once she was standing steadily, he began to 
straighten up, but she took advantage of his stooped 
position to pull off his t-shirt and toss it aside, 
where it caught on the hat rack. "She shoots, she 
scores," Mulder said hoarsely, sliding her coat off 
her shoulders and hanging it next to his wrinkled 
shirt. 

Taking her hand, he began backing toward the entryway 
to the living room. "Oh, I don't think I'll be the 
only one, Mulder." She chuckled as he stumbled over 
her fallen shoes because he was too busy 
concentrating on her face to pay attention to where 
he was going. 

Looking down, he kicked the offending footwear out of 
the way. "Gonna be a high-scoring game, huh, Scully?" 
he asked, smiling at her, still walking backward as 
they turned the corner.

"Could set a league record," she replied as they 
entered his bedroom, the light from the living room 
and the bright rays of moonlight slipping around the 
edges of the curtains providing the only 
illumination. He stopped and pulled her hand behind 
his back, urging her to wrap her arms around him. She 
complied with a smile, running her hands over his 
back from hips to shoulders, her fingertips skimming 
along the top of his ass as she slid them under the 
loose waist of his pajama pants. Placing a kiss on 
the center of his chest, she looked up at him, eyes 
dark and wide, smile tender, her expression full of 
love and desire.

"Oh, Scully, I appreciate the vote of confidence. But 
you *do* remember that I'm pushing 40, right?" She 
nodded, grinning up at him, and he kissed the tip of 
her nose.

She moved her hands to his face, pulling him down for 
a quick kiss before pushing him away slightly and 
looking into his eyes, a mischievous grin on her 
face. "Mulder, you've never let yourself be 
constrained by conventional thinking. That's one of 
the things I love about you."

He was amazed, not by her declaration, but by the 
effect it had on him. In spite of his previous 
certainty, the emotions she stirred in him threatened 
to become overwhelming. His smile was wide and felt 
as if it was stretching his face out of proportion. 
"Well it's about damned time," he said, his voice 
slightly unsteady.

He knew their game-playing days were coming to an end 
when she didn't pretend to misunderstand. Instead, 
she shrugged, a rueful smile on her lips. "What can I 
say? I'm Ms. Methodical," she replied in a self-
deprecating tone.

"Ms. Methodical and Mr. Impulsive...what are the 
odds?" He pulled her tightly against him, sealing his 
mouth to hers, insinuating his tongue between her 
lips. She ran her fingers through his hair, her nails 
scratching his scalp as she held his head to hers. 

Breaking their kiss, Scully grinned up at him. "I'd 
say it's a sure bet." With that, she released her 
hold on him, crossing her arms in front of her and 
stripped off her sweater.

The simple dark-blue bra bisecting her torso 
contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin, 
which seemed to glow in the faint light of his 
bedroom. Her hands moved to the zipper of her jeans 
and he covered them with his own, wanting to unwrap 
her like a Christmas present. Even as a child, Mulder 
liked to extend the tease, forcing himself to go 
slowly, pulling the paper open at the folds instead 
of just ripping it off. Knowing what was inside just 
made it all the more exciting. This was the greatest 
gift he'd ever received, and despite the urgency of 
some parts of his anatomy, he wasn't going to rush.

Well, not much, anyway.

Resting his hands just above the waistband of her 
jeans, he skimmed up her torso, the tips of his 
fingers dancing along either side of her spine as his 
thumbs traced lines up her stomach. He was mesmerized 
by the sight of his large hands spanning her tiny 
waist, moving over her ribs and finally coming to 
rest on the satin of her bra. He dragged his thumbs 
across the underside of her covered breasts, watching 
the fabric wrinkle and shift under the pressure of 
his touch.

Scully ran her hands up his arms, clutching his 
biceps as he continued to move his thumbs over the 
smooth fabric, nearing the hard points distending the 
center of the cups. Her breathing sped up as his 
hands kneaded her flesh, and she moaned loud and long 
when his thumbs finally teased her nipples, brushing 
back and forth over the thin fabric covering them and 
running the edge of his nails around the areolas. 
Spurred by her frustrated sounding groan and his 
desire to see more, he traced his hands over the 
sides of her bra and around her ribs. Undoing the 
hooks, he slowly removed the strip of fabric, 
glorying in his first sight of her pale breasts with 
their dark rose centers.

One hand supporting her lower back, the other behind 
her neck, he dipped her like a ballroom dancer, 
making her back bow and causing her erect nipples to 
point upward, in perfect position for his greedy 
mouth. Starting with light kisses, long swipes of his 
tongue and gentle nips of his teeth, Mulder teased 
each tight peak in turn. Suckling first one breast 
then the other, his world was reduced to the taste of 
her flesh in his mouth, the feel of her hands 
gripping his hair, and the increasing volume of her 
moans.

The pressure on his scalp turned painful as she 
tugged on his hair, causing him to stand up, taking 
her with him. He was stopped from straightening up 
fully when she pulled his head to hers for another 
searing kiss. Her skin was hot and soft against him, 
the hard points of her nipples pressed against his 
chest. While their lips and tongues became 
reacquainted, she reached around and took hold of his 
wrists, moving his hands to the front of her pants. 

He didn't need to be told twice. 

Fingers shaking with anticipation and desire, he 
fumbled only a moment before he had her jeans 
unfastened and began pushing them over her hips. 
Scully's normally steady hands betrayed her 
excitement, tightening the knot on his drawstring 
pajamas in her efforts at loosening it. He broke 
their kiss and stepped back, waving her away, and 
started to work the knot himself before she had it so 
tight he'd need a pair of scissors to get his pants 
off. Taking over where he left off, she swiftly shed 
her jeans, bending over to pull off her socks and 
leaving her clothes in the middle of the floor where 
they landed. Wearing nothing but a pair of white 
cotton panties with a pattern of blue flowers, she 
walked to the head of the bed and pulled down the 
covers. Her enthusiasm was so great that, with one 
sweep of her arm, the bedspread, blanket and top 
sheet all ended up crumpled on the floor at the foot 
of the bed.

Smiling in appreciation of her enthusiasm, Mulder 
finally managed to untangle the truculent cord and 
let the pajamas fall to the floor, leaving him bare 
before her. He stood in the square of light coming 
through the doorway from the living room in all his 
naked and erect glory. She stopped in the act of 
climbing onto the bed to take her first full look at 
him. Other women had seen him in such a state, and 
his emotions at those times had ranged from 
uncertainty to pride, from awkwardness to impatience. 
But here, standing before the last woman he would 
ever love, all he felt was joy in the fact that 
Scully was the one who was gazing at him.

He knew she liked what she saw as her breathing sped 
up and the flush on her face and chest deepened. 
Walking towards her, he watched her eyes follow his 
bobbing erection for a moment before looking up into 
his face and giving him a smile that he could only 
describe as wicked. He could feel his smile growing 
to match hers and he spared a glance at her last 
remaining article of clothing. Immediately, she began 
to remove her panties, going a little slower and 
taking a few more wiggles of the hips that he thought 
strictly necessary. 

Not that he was complaining.

He gave her body the same admiring perusal she had 
given his. His eyes traveled over the voluptuous 
curves of her tiny form, trying to take it all in at 
once. The faint shine of wetness at the edges of the 
redish-brown curls between her legs made his pulse 
race, and he stepped forward, gathering her into his 
arms. They both groaned at the heavenly feeling of 
bare skin meeting from chests to bellies to thighs, 
and he joined their sounds of pleasure by sealing his 
mouth to hers. Lifting her off the floor while 
maintaining full lip contact, he fell sideways onto 
the bed taking her with him.

They kissed for long minutes, entwined legs still 
hanging over the side of the bed, while their hands 
roamed, eager to explore newly unveiled flesh. 
Tumbling, rolling, laughing, licking, biting, 
touching, exploring, noses bumping, elbows and knees 
jabbing, whispering apologies, kissing and making it 
better, they were like too-big kids on a too-small 
playground, and both nearly fell off the bed on 
several occasions. They rested for a moment, 
breathless with passion and mirth, Mulder lying 
between her splayed legs, his head pillowed on her 
breasts, while her fingers traced the planes and 
angles of his face.

Kissing her fingertips, he nuzzled her breasts, still 
wet from his attentions, and placed a reverent kiss 
on her sternum, just over her heart. Hearing her sigh 
deep in her chest, he moved down over her ribs, 
stopping to place small, healing kisses to the scar 
on her stomach from a near-fatal bullet wound. More 
thankful than ever that she was still with him, he 
ignored her insistent tugging on his upper arms and 
moved lower. He lapped at her navel, causing her to 
giggle at the ticklish sensations, and moved his lips 
over the gentle swell of her lower abdomen. The scent 
of her arousal grew stronger as he traced the line of 
her pubic hair and he couldn't wait to taste and 
smell and see what was hidden between her thighs. 

But instead of the moans and sighs he would expect in 
anticipation of having his mouth on her, Scully had 
gone from giggling to laughing outright. Finally 
acquiescing to her hands' insistently tugging on his 
arms, hair and even ears, he lifted his head and 
moved back up her body, his face hovering over hers. 
His confusion must have been clearly evident because 
she said, "Sorry...tickles," as her laughter 
subsided, and she rubbed her palm along the rough 
stubble on his jaw.

Comprehending, he shrugged apologetically. "If I'd 
known what you had in mind, I'd have shaved. Hell, 
I'd have *waxed*." They both chuckled. "You don't 
give a guy much advance notice." He bent his head to 
her neck, sucking at what he had discovered was a 
particularly sensitive spot and teasingly abrading 
her skin with his nascent beard. 

She laughed, pushing him away slightly. "I could say 
the same," she replied, running her legs over his so 
he could feel a very slight scratchiness, "I don't 
give myself much advance notice, either." 

He wasn't even aware of the shamefully natural state 
of her legs until she'd pointed it out, and he 
couldn't care less. "The obsession with hairless legs 
is just another example of the media, fashion and 
cosmetic industries' brainwashing of even the most 
brilliant women into trying to fit an artificial 
definition of what it is to be a 'real woman.'"

Her hands, which had been tracing random patterns on 
his back, went still. She stared at him, humor and 
exasperation clear on her face. "Great. I'm in bed 
with Camille Paglia."

He smiled and gave her a quick peck on the tip of her 
nose. "Not even close, but did I ever tell you I had 
a class with Naomi Wolf while I was at Oxford? 
Romanticism in Renaissance Poetry. She was very 
smart, but drove the professor insa-" He was cut off 
by her pushing on his shoulders and rolling them 
over.

She leaned over him, her damp curls scant millimeters 
away from the head of his penis, and he swore he 
could feel the heat emanating from the core of her 
body. He was hypnotized by the nearness of her, 
unconsciously lifting his hips in an attempt to make 
contact. It took him a moment to realize she was 
speaking again. Looking up, he saw her amused 
expression and was certain she knew what had 
distracted him. She moved her body farther forward so 
her face loomed directly over his. "Mulder?" Her tone 
was so sweet it sounded almost wheedling. His raised 
eyebrows were his only response. 

"Shut the hell up."

Scully forced his compliance by pressing her mouth to 
his just as her body came to rest atop him. Breaking 
their kiss several minutes later, she sat up and 
moved back slightly so her body hovered directly over 
his straining erection. Grasping him lightly, she ran 
her hand from base to tip slowly, as if testing out 
the heft and girth of his penis, and he groaned 
helplessly. She must have been satisfied with her 
findings because she rubbed the head back and forth 
lightly over her labia, coating him with her wetness.

His excitement spiked at the feel of wet, soft skin 
and rough hair sliding along his naked penis. It had 
been many years since he'd been in a relationship 
that lasted long enough to move from the condom stage 
to the pill stage. As a result, he had almost 
forgotten what a woman felt like inside without a 
layer of latex separating them. His hand flailed 
toward the nightstand, silently telling her that he 
had protection if she wished to use it. She glanced 
toward where he was indicating and then returned to 
look at him, seeming to read the question in his 
eyes. Their gazes locked, and she hesitated, 
apparently considering his offer. He knew Scully 
would have been careful in any recent encounters, as 
had he, but if she felt more comfortable taking this 
precaution, he certainly had no objections. It did 
give him a twinge of sadness, though, to think that 
her decision would be based solely on safe sex and 
not contraception. She had once told him that, even 
though she loved children and wanted to be a mother, 
she had long ago realized that her life was too 
dangerous and unpredictable to consider bringing a 
child into it. But that did nothing to diminish the 
fury and pain she felt when she discovered that the 
option had been taken away from her. He shared her 
feelings, knowing that if he were ever to consider 
fatherhood, it could only have been with Scully.

He could tell her thoughts had wandered in a similar 
direction, because she gave him a melancholic smile. 
She leaned forward and he propped himself up on his 
elbows to meet her halfway and share a slow, tender 
kiss. As he lay back down, her expression cleared and 
she moved back, taking hold of him once more. Her 
decision was made when she positioned the head of his 
penis at her entrance and began to slowly slide down, 
moaning as she took him into her body in increments, 
allowing herself to adjust.

Mulder was glad she was taking her time, because even 
though he wasn't huge -- all rumors to the contrary - 
he knew he was on the upper end of the bell curve and 
didn't want her to be in any discomfort. Their 
position not only allowed her to control the speed 
and depth of penetration, it was also slightly less 
intense for him, which was a blessing since any more 
stimulation would have him coming far too soon. The 
desire to grab her hips and thrust up into her was 
almost overwhelming, so he fisted his hands in the 
sheet, kept his eyes locked with hers, and 
concentrated on the feel of being inside her.

He was inside Scully. This woman who meant so much to 
him, his partner, his friend, had opened her arms and 
her legs and welcomed him home. She was all those 
things women are and much, much more: tight, hot and 
oh, so wet. With a sigh, her legs loosened slightly 
and he could feel himself slip even deeper, wrenching 
a groan from deep in his chest, causing his eyes to 
close and his back to arch at the sheer glory of it. 
Consciously making an effort to relax, he opened his 
eyes to see her sitting still, pinned on his body, 
her arms limp at her sides, gaze hooded and mouth 
slack with pleasure.

Her eyes closed in a slow blink; when she opened them 
she focused on him, a brilliant smile lighting her 
face. Placing her hands lightly on his stomach, she 
dragged herself up, creating incredible friction 
along his cock, and kept going until he almost 
slipped out of her. Mulder swore he could feel every 
contour of the interior of her body as she slid back 
down his length. She paused a brief moment and then 
started her trip up again.

She was trying to drive him insane; that was all 
there was to it. 

Each stroke up and down was done with agonizing 
slowness, as if she was trying to find out how much 
he could take before he snapped. It was exquisite, 
but he needed more. He knew that if he touched her, 
he would lose it, gripping her hips and pumping her 
up and down on his cock, heedless of her desires. So 
instead he grabbed even larger handfuls of sheet, 
causing its fitted corners come loose, and began to 
thrust his hips faster, hoping she would get the 
hint. It would've been more direct to tell her, but 
his linguistic capacity had been reduced to long, low 
moans punctuated by startled grunts when she 
tightened her inner muscles around him.

Her pace sped up as she leaned farther forward, 
bracing her hands on his chest to give her more 
leverage. Her brow was creased with a little frown of 
concentration and her breath was becoming labored, 
her body covered with a heavy sheen of sweat. Whether 
she was nearing orgasm or simply getting tired, he 
wasn't sure, but he was certainly eager to help. 
Letting go of the sheet, he placed his hands on her 
pelvis and ran his thumbs through her drenched pubic 
hair. He felt for her clitoris, wanting to touch that 
tiny bud of flesh again after becoming only briefly 
acquainted with it during their earlier explorations.

Looking down at him, glassy-eyed, Scully shook her 
head weakly. "No, s'good, so good," she panted, 
putting her hands on his wrists and moving them back 
slightly so they held her hips. Taking her hint, he 
pulled her to him on her next downward stroke and 
simultaneously thrust up, wringing a groan from him 
and a chorus of "Yeah, yeah, God, yeah..." from her.

Figuring he was on the right track, he repeated the 
action, taking some of the pressure off Scully's legs 
as well as increasing their tempo. She returned her 
hands to his chest, letting him set the pace as she 
chanted "Yeah" and "More" and "Oh, God" and, his 
favorite, "Mulder," over and over. After a few 
moments, she sat back, changing the angle again, much 
to their mutual satisfaction. Placing her left hand 
on his right forearm for balance, she continued to 
match his thrusts as her right hand dropped between 
her legs and began rubbing furiously.

The sight of Scully touching herself as she was 
riding him was enough to make him lose his 
concentration for a moment. She urged him to keep 
going and he quickly resumed their pace, entranced as 
he watched her first and middle fingers making quick, 
tight circles. 

He could feel her legs trembling on either side of 
his hips and realized she was tiring. Tightening his 
hold on her hips, he put more of his strength into 
lifting and lowering her body in order to take some 
of the strain off her legs and allow her to 
concentrate on the motion of her fingers.

Her cries and moans became continuous, her movements 
more frantic, as she was obviously nearing climax. 
With each thrust, her voice became higher and 
breathier, as if her vocal cords were stretched to 
the limit. Fascinated, he kept his eyes glued to her 
face, wanting to see what she looked like when she 
came. 

She was beautiful. 

Her back stiffened and she curled forward slightly, 
her internal muscles clenching around him 
rhythmically as her body spasmed. She looked 
ecstatic, eyes clenched shut and mouth wide open, 
only the slightest whimper coming from her throat as 
she rode out her orgasm.

With a groan, she dropped onto his chest, completely 
limp outside and still twitching around his cock 
inside. Her breath tickled his nipple as she panted 
and she slowly raised her hand and extended a 
glistening finger, silently telling him she needed a 
minute. Desperate to find his own release, but aware 
that she was in no shape to continue just yet, he 
needed something to distract him momentarily from the 
heavenly feel of her body gripping him. Taking hold 
of her hand, he brought her wet fingers to his mouth, 
slowly licking from base to tip. Loving the taste and 
smell of her, he sucked both fingers into his mouth, 
running his tongue over them to catch every last 
traces of her essence.

Opening his eyes, Mulder looked down to see her 
gazing up at him from where her head rested on his 
chest. "Better?" he asked, his hips pumping gently 
against hers. She nodded, and that was all the 
encouragement he needed. He rolled them both over, 
his penis slipping out her in the process and causing 
them both to groan in frustration. She took advantage 
of the moment to get comfortable, grabbing a pillow 
to place under her head, while he hovered over her, 
his patience running thin. The sensation of the air 
cooling her moisture on his cock was doing nothing to 
cool his arousal. 

Within seconds she was reaching for him again and he 
settled between her widespread thighs, holding the 
weight of his upper body off her by propping himself 
up on one forearm as he guided his penis back into 
her body. "Oh, God..." he groaned, placing his other 
arm alongside her head, dropping his forehead to the 
pillow and taking a few calming breaths.

Even lying down, the top of her head only reached his 
chin, so he had to bow his back as she stretched her 
neck up in order for them to kiss. Peppering her 
forehead with kisses, he began to move slowly, giving 
her a moment to adjust in case of possible over-
sensitivity. She signaled her readiness by thrusting 
her hips into his. He set a rapid pace, and she urged 
him on, running her tongue over his Adam's apple, 
nibbling on his jaw, and scooting down to nibble and 
suck on his flat nipples.

After only a few thrusts, Mulder felt his control 
slipping and he began to speed up as Scully whispered 
encouragements and scored his back with her nails. 
Leaning on one arm, he reached down with the other to 
pull her leg up higher on his waist. She did him one 
better by stretching up so her knee was just under 
his armpit, her heel drumming against the middle of 
his back each time he withdrew. With her other foot 
planted firmly on the mattress and her hands grasping 
the cheeks of his ass, she met each of his 
increasingly forceful thrusts with the equally strong 
lift of her hips. 

The pressure was almost unbearable, and he began 
driving into her body relentlessly, jarring her and 
causing the bed frame to connect with the wall with 
each plunge. Then he was there, his body tightening 
along with his balls and then letting go in one 
overwhelming wave of pure bliss. He cried out as his 
hips jerked spasmodically and he emptied himself into 
her. Everything he had, everything he was, he gave it 
all to her in that moment as he felt the release in 
every part his body.

His strength gave out and he fell on top of her, his 
folded arms the only thing keeping him from crushing 
her. Resting his head above hers on the pillow, he 
gasped for breath, pulling strands of hair into his 
mouth with each inhalation. Meanwhile, Scully hugged 
him tightly with her arms and legs, smoothing her 
hands over his drenched back and licking tiny 
rivulets of sweat from the side of his neck.

After a moment, he began to raise up in order to move 
off her, and she released her hold on him. His limp 
penis traced a wet trail across the top of her thigh 
and he finally collapsed on the mattress next to her. 
Mulder lay on his stomach, dazed, sated and 
exhausted, one of his legs still lying on top of 
hers. Mimicking her earlier gesture, he weakly raised 
his hand and held up a finger, letting her know that 
it was his turn to take a minute to regroup. 

She responded as he had, grasping his hand and 
tracing the tip of her tongue over the digit before 
sucking it into her mouth. Opening his eyes slightly, 
he watched her essentially go down on his finger and, 
when she finished, raised his middle finger hoping 
she would repeat the action. She did, and proceeded 
to give every digit the same treatment. When she had 
finished, she interlaced their fingers and let their 
clasped hands rest on the bed between them. Turning 
her head to look at him, she threw her other arm wide 
and gently pushed his leg off hers. There they lay 
for several minutes, serenely gazing at each other, 
as their bodies cooled and their breathing returned 
to normal.

Mulder had no idea how long they'd lain there, but 
when he felt he could finally move again, he released 
her hand and sat up to pull the sheet and blanket up 
from the foot of the bed. Then he lay down on his 
back, spreading his arms wide in invitation and 
covering them both when she snuggled up to his side, 
placing her hand over his heart. 

While he'd never been one to lose consciousness 
immediately after sex, he was, after all, a guy, and 
the hour was getting late. He tried to stay awake, 
figuring Scully would want to talk, but as the 
minutes stretched by, the only sounds their quiet 
breathing and the soft murmur of the TV in the other 
room, his lids began to droop.

He was on the edge of sleep when he felt her climb on 
top of him, placing her chin on the back of her 
folded hands, which rested just over his heart. Her 
legs fell open and the damp hair between her thighs 
tangled with his. Rousing himself, he wrapped his 
arms around her, lacing his fingers together on the 
slope of her ass and sweeping his thumbs over her 
lower back on either side of her spine.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head forward to 
meet her eyes. Her smile was wide and goofy. But he 
would never tell her that. He felt a similar grin 
stretch his cheeks. Wearing a poor excuse for a 
somber expression, she said, "Mulder, I'm not drunk 
anymore."

He decided to play along and see what she had in 
mind. "That's good, Scully. You don't have a hangover 
or anything, do you?"

She shook her head slightly without taking her chin 
off her hands. "No negative aftereffects. Except," 
she paused and looked away, her expression 
thoughtful, "I am a little sore." She met his eyes 
again, grinning wickedly. "But it's a good kind of 
sore."

He laughed, enjoying her playfulness. "Oh, Scully, 
it's the *best* kind of sore." 

Chuckling, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "How 
would you know?"

The Scully Brow Of Skepticism, as he thought of it, 
was either the most or least favorite of her 
expressions, depending upon the circumstances, but it 
had an entirely different effect on him when she was 
lying on top of him, naked and stuck to him with 
their combined fluids. 

His musings were interrupted by the drumming of her 
fingers on his chest as she impatiently waited for 
his answer. "Let's just say you're not the only one 
who could use a little hair of the dog that bit you," 
he replied with a leer.

"Already?" She looked unconvinced. Lifting her hand, 
she began to reach behind her as if to test the 
validity of his claim.

Well, he was relieved to know that sex wasn't going 
to change the basic nature of their relationship.

He grabbed her hand, placing a tender kiss on her 
palm before laying it on his upper chest near the 
bullet wound she'd given him so many years before. "I 
didn't say I was ready for it, Scully, just that I 
could use it. Maybe in an hour or so." He gave his 
eyebrows an exaggerated waggle.

"You know, Mulder, I may just take you up on that," 
she laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could 
see her absently tracing the smooth circle of scar 
tissue on his shoulder. His mind immediately recalled 
the sight of those same fingers circling her slicked 
flesh as she rode him to her climax. Despite being 
sleepy and sated, he felt a tingle of arousal.

Unaware of his musings, she bent down and placed a 
soft kiss on the wound, as if in apology, before 
caressing it once more with a delicate touch. "But 
you see, Mulder, it appears I did something 
rather...well...rash when I was under the influence." 
She glanced up at him, trying to look contrite and 
failing miserably.

He inhaled sharply, as if surprised by her 
confession, and tried to school his features to match 
his tone. "Scully, I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you!" 
She smirked up at him and snorted at his melodramatic 
performance. "What do you intend to do about it?" It 
was plainly obvious that she had no regrets about 
what had just happened, but he was curious as to how 
she thought they should proceed with this new phase 
of their relationship.

Once again resting her chin on her folded hands, she 
said, "As I see it, I have three options." 

He nodded. "And what would those be?"

"One," she briefly lifted her index finger, the back 
of it tapping her cheek, "I could pretend it never 
happened."

He gave her an exaggerated frown of disapproval. 
"Could you do that if you even wanted to, Scully? 
It's certainly not your style to just sneak away like 
a thief in the night and ignore the whole incident." 

Appearing to consider for a moment, she said, "You're 
right. So that brings me to option number two." She 
raised her middle finger briefly. He nodded for her 
to proceed. "That would be to apologize and promise 
it will never happen again."

"Do you really wish it never happened?" He smirked at 
the idea, considering she was laying on top of him, 
buck naked, sporadically pressing her pelvis into 
his. To reinforce the absurdity of the idea, he 
lifted his head and gave her a slow, deep, thorough 
kiss while his hands kneaded the firm globes of her 
ass.

When they separated, both breathing hard, she had 
spread her legs wider and her thrusts had become more 
rhythmic. She slowly raised her lids to meet his gaze 
and he could see the beginnings of new arousal in her 
eyes. "No, Mulder, I don't regret it in the 
slightest."

He gave her behind a squeeze of approval and linked 
his hands once more at the small of her back. "Good. 
Then if you have no misgivings, why would you 
apologize? That would be terribly insincere, don't 
you think?"

Nodding in agreement, she replied, "I do, so that 
leaves option number three." She raised her ring 
finger. "I acknowledge what happened, that I'm not 
sorry it did, and talk to the...party involved about 
how to make things work going forward."

He was amused by her formal phrasing, but nodded his 
head, pretending to give the matter a great deal of 
thought. "You know, Scully, that's certainly the best 
of the three options you've presented, but I think 
you've overlooked a possible fourth." 

She raised her eyebrows, looking genuinely curious. 
"What's that?"

He pulled her up so their faces were even and raised 
his head, bringing his mouth to her ear. "Revel in 
it," he whispered, and punctuated his suggestion with 
a gentle nip at her earlobe before lying his head 
back down.

"Revel?" she responded, her voice equally hushed. She 
looked at him, his face so close he could barely keep 
her in focus.

"Yep. Revel. Thanks to an extra beer or two, you did 
something that you've wanted to do for a very long 
time, have every intention of doing again, and the 
party involved feels exactly the same way. Also, it's 
Friday night, which means you've got a full forty-
eight hours to celebrate, as well as talk about how 
you and the party involved are going to 'make things 
work going forward.'" He watched her face closely as 
she considered his words.

Slowly, her contemplative frown transformed into a 
feral smile. "Mulder?"

"Yeah?" He grinned up at her as he smoothed his palms 
over her hips and thighs. 

She lowered her head to his, stopping just before 
their lips touched. 

"Let's revel."

The End