TITLE:     DIAMOND LIFE
AUTHOR:    FOXPROSE
E-MAIL:    FOXPROSE2003@YAHOO.COM
RATING:    NC-17 
WARNING:   Descriptive sex. Smut warning.
CATEGORY:  MSR 
KEYWORDS:  ANGST/MULDER POV
DISCLAIMER: Enough problems with real people in my 
life, let alone fictional characters.  They belong to 
Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox 
Broadcasting.
FEEDBACK:   Please!  Send to foxprose2003@yahoo.com
SPOILERS:   Small ones for How the Ghosts Stole 
Christmas and FTF
SUMMARY:   Ever wonder where Scully got those diamond 
studs?  An older agent gives Mulder some advice.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Background information on FBI 
policies, culture, and jargon in the late 1990s is 
derived from Special Agent by Candice DeLong.

Thanks to Vivian, for removing her jaw from the floor 
and suggesting her own favorite antics.

Thanks to Donnilee for providing incredible beta and 
encouragement!


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
TUESDAY, 8:30 AM

The light blue Post-It note stuck to the receiver of Fox Mulder's
phone was an exercise in brevity:  'NCAVC Educational Task Force
Meeting, Tues 10 AM.  Conf Rm C-1704.  Mandatory!' Dana Scully hadn't
arrived yet, but her presence could be discerned in the crisp, no-
nonsense penmanship and dark-blue felt-tip ink of her missive to her
partner.

Mulder's eyes darted around the office, searching for an excuse to
skip this meeting.  Perhaps his help was needed on a maybe-X-File in
some remote field office!  He sat down purposefully at his desk to
check his e- mail.  No such luck.  His e-mail contained the usual
assortment of spam, including multiple offers to purchase Viagra at a
discount.  It also contained a reminder about the meeting from the
head of the task force, so there went the idea of pretending Scully's
message had been lost.  It hadn't been such a great idea anyway.  
Scully had told him about the meeting yesterday.  The note was just
insurance.

Mulder made a tremendous show of trying to avoid the inevitable
committees and task forces that accompanied assignment to the FBI's DC
headquarters, but had he been completely truthful, he would have
admitted that he didn't really mind being placed at the occasional
beck and call of the Criminal Investigative Division.  The folks
handling violent crime investigations still associated him with his
reputation as a gifted profiler, and his subsequent digression into
paranormal phenomena caused less snickering.  After all, these agents
were plenty familiar with monsters of one kind or another.

The phone rang and Mulder jumped slightly, his concentration on the
computer monitor broken.

"Mulder, it's me," Scully announced.  "I'm in the lab with Dean taking
a look at the residue we found on the body from New Mexico.  I just
wanted to make sure you didn't forget your 10 o'clock meeting."

"Would I forget something so critical to the future of mankind as a
meeting of the Special Educational Task Force of the National Center
for the Analysis of Violent Crime?"  Mulder snorted.

"I know how much you hate these things.  But try to look at it as an
opportunity to advance the X-Files a little.  You could actually have
an impact on how field offices think about unusual cases," she
responded in a placating voice.

"Yeah, okay.  Fine," he said sullenly.

"Mulder...," Scully made her final pitch.  "Please just play nicely?  
Okay?"

He smiled in spite of himself.  The 'good girl' in Scully was never
far from the surface.  "Don't worry, Scully.  It's O.K.  Really.  
I'll behave," he promised sincerely.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
CONFERENCE ROOM C-1704
WASHINGTON, DC
TUESDAY, 10 AM

Mulder entered the open door of Conference Room C- 1704.  He sat down,
joining five other agents who sat around the walnut table, the legacy
of a previous director's furniture buying spree.

They were deeply involved in a conversation regarding the availability
of a product called 'Miracle Gro,' and whether it could be had more
cheaply at Wal-Mart or Home Depot.  Everyone nodded politely as he
took a seat and placed his pad of paper and pen on the table, but what
had been a free-wheeling debate just a minute ago came to a grinding
halt.

"Hey, Mulder!  How's it going?" one of the agents, who had been a
heated proponent of Home Depot, spoke up.

"Can't complain.  Yourself?"  Mulder replied pleasantly.

When he was younger, it was pretty cool to be a young, single,
good-looking guy with an interesting, even glamorous job in law
enforcement.  Even boring assignments featured a measure of partying
for those so inclined, attracting 'badge bimbos' as well as smart
girls from good colleges working in DC for a year or two before
settling down.

However, Mulder had noticed a change sometime in his thirties.  
Married agents no longer looked at him with 'atta boy' envy.  His
observational skills were honed well enough that he could, in fact,
detect pity when they regarded him.  It was as if they all knew the
reality; Spooky still went home each evening to an empty apartment,
ate processed food for dinner, and spent the night alone surfing the
web.  It didn't matter where Miracle-Gro was on sale; there was
nothing growing in Fox Mulder's life.

Two more agents entered hurriedly and found seats.  It was now 10:08
AM and the leader, Roger Davison, was nowhere in sight.  Small talk
was exchanged, and Mulder even found a way to add a self-deprecating
joke.  "They brought me in to help teach the field offices how to tell
the difference between real aliens and Star Trek fans."  Everyone
laughed and offered theories on why they had been 'volunteered' for
this group.

At 10:22 AM, Special Agent Roger Davison finally arrived.  Agent
Davison had 'command bearing' as they say in the military.  A black
man nearing 50, he had been a college football player.  He retained
the confidence of the gridiron and had a deep baritone voice that
defied suspects or even agents under his supervision to get on his bad
side.  Mulder had worked with Davison a few times during his profiling
days; he found him fair and ethical, never putting politics or career
above solving the case.

"Gentlemen, please accept my apologies for starting late," Davison
began as he entered the room.  He prepared to distribute a sheaf of
papers he'd brought in a manila envelope.  He paused suddenly, his
eyes on one young agent at the table, and put the papers down.  He
took a small black box from his jacket pocket, then removed the jacket
and slung it over the back of his chair.  He sat down and rolled up
the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

"I usually don't get personal like this," he began tentatively.  "But
I've been with the bureau almost twenty years now - I'll be retiring
next year - and I've earned the right to give you boys some advice."

The agents sat transfixed, partly by Davison's departure from their
expectations and partly by curiosity concerning the contents of the
black box.

"I don't think I need to tell you what working on these cases can do
to you.  You've all heard the lectures about stress and burnout."  
Davison, though never unconfident, quickly lost any hesitation as he
warmed to the subject.  "But you need to keep on top of what this job
does to your family.  You know about the divorce rates for our line of
work."

Several agents seemed lost in thought.  Mulder sat quietly, wondering
what was coming next.

"Today is my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and I just came from
picking this up," he said, opening the box.  "Two carats," he
announced with a hint of pride as a gold pendant set with a glittering
diamond came into view.

Several agents clapped and whistled, and everyone smiled.  
"Congratulations!  That's great!"  "Hey!  That's great, Roger!"  
"Congrats!"  The responses came at once, drowning each other out.  
Davison waved his hand slightly for quiet and snapped the box shut.

"Thanks, guys.  But that's not why I bring this up.  My point is this:  
your fellow agents may be the ones saving your ass on a stakeout or
undercover, but it's your wife and family who save your ass in life."  
Davison leaned forward slightly in his seat as he spoke and his voice
seemed to fill the room though he barely spoke above a whisper.  "And
you need to show some appreciation, because they shouldn't have to put
up with the job we do.  And don't wait twenty-five years to do it!  I
got lucky.  My wife must feel sorry for my pitiful ass.  But I've seen
too many of us lose sight of what's important in our lives because of
this damned job."

Davison's speech was greeted by complicit silence.  The young agent,
probably just past his 16 weeks at Quantico, looked stricken.

Sensing the need to lighten the mood, Davison turned to Mulder.  He
smiled and used a lighter tone of voice, "Of course, then we've got
Spooky Mulder here, whose ass is in a sling so often that he can't
keep up in the appreciation department with his partner, let alone a
wife."

The agents laughed, including Mulder, and the somber mood was broken.  
Mulder was silently grateful to Davison for finding a way to include
him, to make him one of the guys, even for a brief moment.

"All right.  Let's get to work on how we're going to teach the old
dogs working in some of these field offices a few new tricks."


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
TUESDAY, NOON

The office was deserted, but Mulder's message light was blinking when
he returned.  He punched in the codes to retrieve his voice mail.

"April 23 at 11:41," the programmed female voice announced.

"Mulder, it's me," came Scully's familiar voice.  "Go ahead and get
lunch without me.  I got stuck with an autopsy this afternoon, so I'll
grab something to eat on my way."

Mulder felt a momentary pang of disappointment.  He hadn't been
consciously looking forward to lunch with Scully, but he felt
curiously uneasy after Agent Davison's comments.  Talking with Scully
over lunch about the meeting would have quieted the odd, unidentified
anxiety he felt.

He left the building, walking away from Pennsylvania Avenue toward the
Convention Center, with the thought of picking up a submarine sandwich
at one of the storefronts catering to a combination of tourists,
conventioneers, and those who slaved away in the Federal Triangle.  
The day was warm and breezy, one of the first true spring-like days.
He remembered a small, independent sandwich shop that usually wasn't
too mobbed and made a bee-line toward it.  He ate a turkey sub and
drank a bottle of water at a small plastic table erected on the
sidewalk by the proprietor, tossing the wrapper and empty bottle into
a large garbage container after he finished.

There was no pressing need to return to the office quickly, so Mulder
strolled an extra block or two through the side streets,
window-shopping and wool- gathering.  He found himself reflecting on
Roger Davison, on what it must have been like for a black man to join
the FBI in the late 1970s.  The Bureau had been famously inhospitable
to minorities, women, Jews, or anyone who didn't fit the 'mold'
developed in the 1930s by ol' J. Edgar himself.

Mulder remembered that Davison had once mentioned working as a police
officer while attending law school at night.  His bio listed a series
of assignments at one backwater field office after another, with each
promotion leading him a step closer to headquarters.  Davison's wife
was a nurse or something like that, and Mulder thought he recalled a
few kids, probably old enough to be in college now, racking up tuition
bills.  Two carats' worth of appreciation had taken some surreptitious
saving and finagling on Davison's part.  Appreciation - that was what
the man said. That's what it was all about.

Without intending to do so, Mulder found himself ringing the buzzer
and being admitted to a small jewelry store decorated in subtle tans
and beiges.  He sank into the deep carpeting.  This place was designed
for well-heeled visitors or highly paid members of the private sector
who fed at the government trough.  It was certainly not intended to
meet the jewelry needs of federal employees.  A pretty young woman
emerged from the back as he entered the store.

"Good afternoon.  Is there anything I can help you with today?" she
purred.  She was wearing a body- hugging knit dress and an
expensive-looking brass name badge that said 'Amanda.'

"Um, no...I don't know.  I'm not really looking for anything..."
Mulder stammered.

"That's perfectly all right.  Take your time and look around.  We
don't mind browsers at all.  Sometimes you need a while to think
before you make a jewelry purchase," Amanda continued.  She gave off
the calming aura of a nurse or a kindergarten teacher, someone
accustomed to dealing with nervous newcomers.

She kept talking, making eye contact with Mulder and smiling, "You
know, we just got something in yesterday I'd like to show you...," she
opened a locked case and pulled out a tray of jewel-encrusted bangle
bracelets.

The image that popped unbidden into Mulder's mind was of Scully trying
to stretch latex gloves over a clunky bracelet, and he immediately
protested, "No, I don't think so.  It would be hard for her to wear
something like that at work."

"Oh?  What does she do?"

"She's a doctor, a pathologist.  She has to work in labs and with
tissue samples.  I don't think a bracelet would be a good idea."

"Does she wear earrings?"

Mulder paused for a second, checking her image in his memory.  "Yeah.  
She does.  She wears little white earrings.  Pearls or something."

"Well, then she'd love a pair of diamond studs.  They're a classic!  
They're appropriate for any occasion and she can wear them from work
into the evening.

What?  This little sales pitch was going way too far.  He had entered
the store on a whim.  He wasn't planning to buy a present for Scully
... or for anybody!  He started to protest, but Amanda just waved off
his objections.

 "Of course you're just looking today," she said.  "You're not buying
anything just yet."  And before he knew what hit him, Mulder was
viewing a wide assortment of diamond earrings and was being coached in
the sizes, cuts, colors, and other vagaries associated with diamond
jewelry.  A few more prompts from Amanda, and he was chatting volubly
about Scully, bragging about her investigative skills, her beauty, and
even her marksmanship.

"She sounds like an incredible person.  You're so lucky to have found
her," she said in awe.  Mulder was vaguely aware that he had lost
control of this situation, that this woman probably sighed in
admiration of twenty deserving jewelry recipients a day.  He started
to try to explain that he and Scully were not romantically involved,
but his thoughts drifted to Roger Davison:  appreciation.

Before he knew it, he was examining a pair of earrings that Amanda
told him were perfect for a professional woman.  She was swiping his
credit card, and he was turned back into Washington's busy lunchtime
streets bearing a snazzy miniature shopping bag containing a small
black box.

 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
TUESDAY, 4 PM

Mulder's head had cleared by the time he reached the office and his
first inclination was to make a 180- degree turn and go back to the
jewelry shop to return the earrings.  What on earth had he been
thinking?  No wonder they could afford sink-to-your-ankles carpeting;
Amanda, or whatever her name was, was like a Siren, luring the
lovesick or guilty to make impulse purchases.  It was embarrassing,
actually.  He was a psychologist, a crack FBI profiler. Yet apparently
he was impotent in the face of a highly honed sales pitch!  He thought
ruefully that he was lucky he hadn't wandered into a condominium
time-share office.

But while it was true he had succumbed to an impulse purchase, he
wanted more than anything to give this present to Scully.  Oh sure,
he'd been fantasizing about her since the day she walked in the door,
had fallen in love with her, and even more amazingly, had admitted
this fact to himself.  Regardless of whether Scully ever reciprocated
his feelings, he wanted to show her how much he appreciated what she
brought to his life.  He would have to find a way to give her this
gift without making her uncomfortable.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX 
FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT 
FRIDAY NIGHT 
2 WEEKS LATER

Dana Scully sat cross-legged on the floor, examining dog-eared
receipts and placing them in neat piles.  The coffee table in front of
her was covered with a half-eaten pizza and half-finished bottles of
imported beer.  Fox Mulder sat on the couch across from her, editing
the final report on a case file.  This, in Mulder's opinion, was the
very best way to do paperwork:  pizza, beer, casual clothes, a little
TV if there was something good on, and they'd be done in no time.  It
wasn't a real date but it was the next best thing.  Mulder relished
these times spent with Scully.  He had become adept at finding reasons
why reports and case files couldn't be finished during the workday.  
Scully never appeared unhappy with this arrangement and Mulder
wondered if perhaps she looked forward to these times, too.

The diamond earrings, however, had not made it to Scully's ears or
even to her jewelry box.  Mulder had spent the past two weeks moving
them from location to location, never finding the perfect time or
place to give them to her.  He had quickly ditched the bag and carried
the box in his jacket pocket to and from the office each day.  Each
day he told himself that an opportunity would present itself, but each
day the earrings returned home to Virginia.  Maybe the office wasn't
the right setting.  Maybe he should give them to her in the evening or
on a weekend. But they had spent several evenings together, and he was
no closer to finding a way of presenting them.

"I think we're done," Scully sighed in relief while she stapled the
piles of receipts to their respective forms with a bit more force than
was truly necessary.

"O.K.  Give me a minute and I'll be finished," Mulder responded.

She took another slice of pizza, picked up the remote control, and
clicked idly with one hand while eating her pizza with the other.  
"You never told me about that education task force you're on," she
mentioned.

"Not much to say," he mumbled distractedly.  "We're supposed to come
up with ways to improve communication with field offices and get them
to update their techniques and procedures."

"Oh, good luck," she said sarcastically.  "The good agents don't need
to be told, and the RIP agents won't listen anyway."  Agents with
reputations as 'RIP,' or 'retired in place' were avoided not only by
Mulder and Scully, but by any agent with an ounce of integrity and
work ethic.  At best, they were useless, and at worst, they could get
you killed.

Mulder continued to make penciled corrections on the report while
Scully chatted.  "Isn't Roger Davison in charge?"  She paused to take
a drink.  "I heard from one of the lab techs that he just celebrated
his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She said he got his wife this
incredible necklace with two- or three-carat diamond."

"Yeah.  I saw it.  He showed it to us at the meeting.  I think he'd
just picked it up or something." He finished his corrections and
slipped the stapled papers back into the file folder.

Scully made no more comments, distracted by something she had found on
TV.  Thinking about Roger Davison made Mulder think about the
earrings, and that reignited a queasy feeling.  Mulder decided to take
this opening, and damn the consequences.

"One of the things Roger talked about at that meeting was showing
appreciation to the people in our lives.  I guess his wife's really
stood behind him all these years, and he wanted to let her know how
grateful he was," he said as he crossed to his desk, removing the
small black box from under a pile of papers.  "It made me think a lot
about showing appreciation in my own life."

Although Scully was listening, he didn't have her full attention.  He
crossed over and flicked the off switch on the TV manually.  "Scully,
what I'm trying to say is that I know you could have chosen a million
times to leave, to give up.  But no matter what happens, no matter how
things turn out, I want you to know how much I appreciate your being
part of my life.  Your honesty, your knowledge, and your faith in the
X-Files - it's made me a better person.  Thank you."  He handed her
the box.  Whew!  This was way more emotion than he felt comfortable
discussing!  He hoped he hadn't gone too far, tipping his hand about
the more intense feelings he harbored for his partner.

"What is this, Mulder?" she asked, confusion in her eyes.

"Just open it," he urged.

Scully opened the box.  Her eyes grew large and her jaw dropped.  
"Mulder, these are stunning!  They're beautiful.  But you don't have
to buy me a present,"  she breathed.

"I know, but I wanted to.  If you don't like them, we could exchange
them," he responded hopefully

"No.  It's not that.  I love them, but I could never accept a gift
like this from you."  She put the box gently on the coffee table.

"Why not?  I want you to have them," he tried hard to keep his voice
even, to keep from sounding hurt.

Scully paused, gathering her thoughts.  Although they were usually
comfortable with silences between them, this one felt to Mulder like a
weight pressing down on his lungs, forcing him to concentrate on each
breath.

She inhaled deeply and began.  "I'm not trying to inflate your ego
here, but I don't need to tell you that you're a very, very attractive
man.  I don't just mean physically; I mean the entire package.  
You're smart, handsome, fun to be with ..."

"Right.  That's why women are constantly throwing themselves at me,"
he interrupted her sarcastically.

"They do constantly throw themselves at you.  Should I name names?  
And that doesn't count all the women you don't even seem to notice.  
But that's not my point.  My point is that I'm not deaf or blind.  I
notice you, too.  But when I started to work with you on the X- Files,
I made a decision not to let myself get too attracted to you.  A gift
like this, well, it blurs the lines.  It makes me think of you in ways
that are too dangerous."

"What are you talking about?  Are you saying you're attracted to me
romantically or physically or whatever?"  Conversations like this
always confused him.

Scully smirked but didn't meet his eyes.  "Does that surprise you?  
Look, don't get me wrong.  I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable.  
I know that your interests lie elsewhere.  I'm just trying to explain
why I can't accept this gift.  Diamond earrings are...  intimate.
They're not like a book or a box of candy."

"I thought that what we have is a little deeper than books and candy,"
he spat out.  "And what do you mean you know my 'interests lie
elsewhere'?"

"Don't make me spell this out, Mulder," she sighed.  "People can be
attracted to a coworker without it going any further.  I can admit
that I'm attracted to you even though I realize you'd never be
interested in me in that way in a million years," she finished with
almost unnoticeable sadness.  Scully uncrossed her legs, stood up, and
moved to sit on the couch

"So you're saying you would accept these earrings from a lover, but
not from your partner?"

"I know it doesn't seem logical to you, but yes."

Mulder's first reaction had been hurt.  But she'd given him new
information, information that raised his hopes for the first time in a
long time.  She thought he was attractive!  He sat next to Scully on
the couch and composed his next sentence.

"You're probably right.  Maybe this is the kind of gift that should
come from a lover.  But I don't think I can get a refund for the
earrings, so maybe we should just change the relationship instead."
Mulder smiled and registered the look of shock on Scully's face as he
leaned in to kiss her.

He had expected her to resist.  But after her initial shock, Scully
seemed to welcome his kiss, returning it enthusiastically, and meeting
his tongue in an increasingly frenetic dance.

He pulled away and cupped her face in his palms.  "Scully, what you
said about my not wanting you that way?  You're so wrong!  You're so,
so wrong!  The reason I don't notice other women is because I'm always
thinking about you.  Always wishing I could tell you how I feel.  
Always wondering if you'd ever feel the same way..."

She let out a breath somewhere between a moan and a whimper.  He
attacked her lips once again, then trailed his tongue down her throat
and to the back of her neck.  She arched toward him as he kissed her,
her breasts pressing against him.  Her arms circled his neck and she
brought his lips back to her own.  She turned slightly and moved to
straddle him, pressing her hips against his.

Mulder was in shock.  Never in his wildest dreams - well, maybe in
some of them - did he anticipate such a sequence of events.  He had
just hoped to give her the earrings without making her angry with him
or sorry for him.  If Mulder's mind was in shock, his body was doing
just fine on autopilot.  He registered a little embarrassment as he
felt himself respond to Scully's hips, now grinding against him.  He
felt a panicky sensation.  Did she want him to make love to her?  How
far should he push her?  He slid his hands under her sweater, stroking
her back and feeling the curve of her waist.

In response, Scully pulled the sweater over her head, displaying a
navy satin bra that could have fueled his fantasies for years.  Their
eyes met, and she smiled while reaching behind her back and to unclasp
the bra.  She removed it, revealing beautiful lush breasts with
nipples hardened in arousal.  Mulder was, to be honest, a bit
surprised.  Tamped down under her suit jackets, her breasts appeared
in proportion to her body, but not spectacular.  He never regarded
himself as a breast man, anyway.  But the soft, rounded globes that
bounced gently in front of his face as she moved her hips were
incredibly full and shapely.  They were an incredible bonus to any
heterosexual man and would have been a cause for aesthetic admiration
from anybody else!

"Scully, I don't want to push you, but you gotta let me know if you
want to call it quits here," he said raggedly, trying to look her in
the eyes rather than the chest.

"Mulder, " she said, smiling and enunciating clearly, "I'm sitting on
your lap with my shirt off ..."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to feel pressured ..."

"Well, the FBI prohibits moonlighting, even as lap- dancers, so I'd
say you're pretty safe in assuming that I'm here because I want to be,
because I want you," she finished.

"Bedroom?" he invited, tentatively.

"Thought you'd never ask," she responded in a husky voice that he'd
never really heard but had frequently imagined.

Mulder positioned her legs tightly around his waist and eased to a
standing position.  Her weight was easy to manage, but she'd better
not expect this trick regularly, he thought.  His knees were a lot
less eager than his cock.  The bed wasn't exactly made, but thank God
he had one of those comforters that never really looked unmade,
either.  He carried her into the bedroom and set her down on the bed
with what he hoped was a flourish. She unzipped her jeans and wiggled
her hips to help release them.

Mulder gasped, his breath momentarily taken away by the scene in front
of him.  Scully's hair was spread beneath her head and her breasts
were still rocking slightly from the motion.  She was wearing navy
lace panties, cut low on the hip and with longer legs than typical -
almost like shorts.  He could see a spot of dampness and could smell
the almost indiscernible scent of her desire.  She hooked her thumbs
at the hips of her panties and paused.

"Yes?" she teased, waiting for confirmation.

"Oh, yesss!" he hissed in response.

She slid them down her legs and kicked them to the floor.  Of course,
he found her beautiful.  What surprised him was how different her
beauty seemed today.  Instead of the sleek, powerful beauty she
displayed at work, Scully without clothes was softer, more womanly.  
Her body no longer seemed to have straight planes, only contours and
curves.

He leaned over and kissed the dark auburn curls between her legs,
purposely working in circles toward the very center fold that would
mark her most sensitive spot.  Mulder had always suspected that he
wasn't terribly talented at this skill, and he had always avoided it
when possible.  However, the little noises Scully was making and the
way her nipples tightened visibly made him rethink his earlier
aversion, and he began stroking her with his tongue, gently pulling
back her flesh to expose the engorged core.

Suddenly, their leisurely tempo changed.  She began thrusting her hips
more purposefully, her legs spreading further apart, and her sounds
becoming less coherent and more demanding.  He used a finger to
penetrate her, his tongue still working, and then slid a second finger
inside her, earning him the sound of breathy little whimpers.  The
sounds stopped suddenly as her back arched, and he looked up in time
to see her nipples contract to pebbles as he felt her spasms grip his
fingers.  He remained stationary as her body relaxed and her breathing
returned to normal.

"Thank you," he said softly, bowing his head slightly as he withdrew
his fingers from her.

"I think I'm the one that's supposed say that," she laughed nervously.

"No.  I mean it.  Thank you for letting me touch you like that.  
You're so beautiful.  I never thought I'd have the chance," he said,
his voice hesitant and uncharacteristically humble.

Scully turned on her side and eyed him appraisingly.  "Mulder, you're
overdressed for this party."  She slid off the bed and slowly
unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it to the floor alongside her panties,
and pulled his t- shirt over his head.  She pressed her body against
his and took a nipple in her mouth.  She sucked, then bit gently, and
he wondered how she knew that this, of all possible actions, would
bring his arousal to a peak.

Feeling the increased pressure and slight movement of his hips, she
unzipped his jeans and dragged them along with his boxers to his
knees.  He stepped out of the tangle of clothes and lowered himself
into the bed.  She leaned over and took him in her mouth.  This was
heaven, absolute heaven, and he watched in disbelief as her head moved
over his groin.  How many nights had he spent on his couch dreaming of
this scenario?  But this wasn't what he wanted right now.

"Not this time," he said roughly, pulling her up to face him.  "Want
to be inside you.  Want to make you mine."  He thought hazily that
perhaps he shouldn't have said that.  Was it too possessive or
misogynistic?  If Scully thought so, she didn't react, except to slide
on top of him so that her still-damp folds seemed to envelop the
length of his cock.

She reached between them and guided him inside her.  Mulder let out a
moan as she began to move.  She was so tight. He hoped that meant that
it had been a long time for her. It had been a long time for him, too,
and he wasn't sure how long he would last at the present rate,
particularly if he kept watching her breasts bounce rhythmically as
she rode him.

Mulder held onto her waist and used his upper body strength to turn
them over.  Scully was now under him, her legs wrapped around his
waist.  He was still embedded deep within her as he began to control
the speed, picking up the pace as she lifted her hips to meet each
thrust.

"Scully, I love you.  Love you so damned much, " his words came out in
a torrent.

"I love you, too, Mulder..."

He was panting now, losing his battle for self- control.  "Wanted to
tell you ... for so long," his voice became ragged. "So close.  Can't
wait.  Need you so bad, Scully."

"Yeah?  Come for me, baby.  Fuck me harder!  Let me see you lose
control," she coaxed him in this new husky voice.

That did it.  Was it hearing her call him 'baby'?  Was it hearing the
word 'fuck' emerge from her mouth?  Was it the image of her lying
beneath him, demanding his sexual performance?  Whatever the exact
catalyst, her words triggered a climax that sent his entire body into
almost violent spasms as his hands grasped her shoulders and each
shudder added to the wetness between her legs.

He was afraid of crushing her with his weight, so he rolled to one
side as their breathing slowed.

"You really think I'm attractive?" he asked quizzically, propping
himself on an elbow.

Scully reached for a pillow to put under her head.  She heard the
teasing in his voice and smiled, getting into the spirit of this game.  
"Yeah, I'd say you're pretty attractive."

"Before you said I was very, very attractive.  Two 'verys,'" he
pretended to pout.

"Well, maybe I exaggerated a little," she mused, "but definitely one
'very.'"

His finger traced her ears and the small pearl studs she was wearing.  
"Now you have to put on the earrings I got you," he said.  "And you
have to wear them all the time.  Amanda said they were perfect for any
occasion"

"Who on earth is Amanda?"

"The lady who sold them to me.  She said they were perfect for work or
evening."

"Well, they are perfect for work.  As far as evening goes ... my
evenings will need to be more exciting than they've been recently if
I'm going to justify wearing diamond earrings."

"You mean more haunted house trips?"

"That is not what I mean, Mulder," she rolled her eyes.

"I guess I'll have to provide some other form of entertainment, then,"
he countered as he traced her jaw with light kisses.
 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, DC
FOLLOWING TUESDAY, 9:30 AM

Mulder clattered into the office, running late.  Scully looked up from
the file she was reading.

"Good morning," she greeted him.

"If you say so," he grumbled.  "Scully, what would you think of moving
the X-Files to somewhere without rush hour?  Maybe the Memphis office
would take us in.  How bad can traffic be in Memphis?  And we'd be on
the scene to investigate Elvis sightings!"

Scully put down the file and, predictably, rolled her eyes at this
idea.

"Or how about Springfield, Illinois?  We'd save hours commuting!  We
could box all these babies up and have them shipped out to the
heartland," he gestured at the file cabinets grandly.

"First of all," she answered, "I'm not going anywhere with corn.  The
last time you got me in a cornfield I had to run for my life and ended
up in storage in Antarctica.  So you can forget Springfield.  And
second of all, even if we started packing right now, we wouldn't be
gone in time for you to miss your task force meeting in half an hour.  
So we might as well stay."  She picked up her file, but not before
shooting an indulgent smile at Mulder.

"Okay, okay!  Just let me check my e-mail first."

He settled down at his computer for a few minutes before interrupting
her.  "Get a load of this, Scully!  There've been reports of unusual
mortality among squirrels within a perfect one-mile radius in an
eastern Alabama state park."

"The squirrels will wait, Mulder.  Go to your meeting.  I don't know
why you're complaining and stalling so much.  You don't mind it nearly
as much as you let on."

Mulder had no quick retort, so he got to his feet, put on his jacket,
and rummaged around for a pad of paper and pencil.

"Besides," she added coyly.  "I'm sure you'll be amply rewarded later
for working so hard on such a boring assignment."  She purposefully
tucked her hair on one side behind her ear, turning her head so that
the diamond stud glittered in the light.

"On my way - don't want to be late," he announced cheerily.  He strode
from the office in a show of mock purpose and motivation.  Scully
laughed, pursing her lips in a barely discernible kiss before he
rounded the corner to the elevator.

THE END