Title: Better with Practice -- Absolute Beginners II  
(Chapters 1-3)
Author: diehard
Rating: NC-17
Classification: S/R, Humor (hopefully), Alternate
Universe...people are actually happy here.
Spoilers: Everything through the first third of Season 7, 
then we take a different turn.
No abduction, no pregnancy, but there is romance and, well...
Keywords: Practice makes perfect. Mulder is capable of the 
grand gesture.
Scully is capable of expressing her feelings. Summary: Mulder 
and Scully have been together for about two weeks after the 
events in Absolute Beginners. (You don't have to read it, but 
it helps. Posted on Ephemeral, Gossamer, Whispers of X, HOF 
and X-Files Romantics.)
A night out as a relief from Kersh's crappy assignments.
Disclaimers: You know, they're not mine. They're Chris
Carter's. Just using them for the fun, no money involved.
Archive: Yes, anywhere. Just keep it intact.
Feedback: Yes, please. you can contact me:
alvaradomccain@earthlink.net

Folks, this is my second foray into fanfic, so please play 
nice. I wrote this because I just couldn't stand a Mulderless 
S9 and Scully acting like a washed-out version of herself.

Chapter 1/3  
  
It was the middle of Wednesday afternoon and Mulder's 
neck and shoulders were beginning to ache. He'd been working 
on his laptop reviewing file after file since this morning, 
and Scully had been doing follow up calls. He hated being 
shoved into this cubicle, complete with its too-small desk 
and glaring fluorescents. Eternal damnation was not fire 
and brimstone or some rung of the underworld according to 
Dante. It was located in the bullpen of the FBI, and they'd 
been stuck there for the last two weeks, prisoners in background 
check hell. He felt bored, he felt tired, he felt pissed. 
Just close your eyes for minute, he told himself, 
close your eyes and regroup.

The boom was officially lowered the day after the last 
audit. Skinner tried to stop it from happening, sending the 
two of them to placate the auditor, who had, apparently, 
better contacts than anyone could've imagined. The brown-nosing 
little bastard was outraged at what he termed in his call 
to good 'ole Alvin as, "the unconscionable waste of taxpayer's 
money devoted to alien snipe hunts, and the offensive behavior 
of the Agent-in-Charge."

Skinner's attempt to have them defuse things failed, and 
the upshot was that they were pulled once again off the X-
Files. Now they spent almost all their waking hours fact 
checking registrations and licenses for Bureau data bases.  
To add insult to injury, everyone else on the floor was
a wet-behind-the-ears Academy grad, and every morning they 
were treated to the stare of some young blue-flamer. Mulder 
knew he would've randomly discharged his weapon by now if it 
wasn't for Scully. But there she was, serving her sentence 
right alongside him, the only relief in a sea of monotony and 
mind-numbing scut work.  For some incomprehensible reason she
hadn't tore him a new asshole for gumming up the works to 
begin with.  Just the opposite.

The first night after it happened, they drove home, and as
soon as they got in the door Scully pointed to the sofa and 
uttered the three best words of the day,  "You.  There.  Now."   
Before he knew it they were doing their impression of 
a human slip knot, not even bothering to take off their 
clothes.

In between him thumbing her nipples, and her biting his
earlobe, she managed to tell him she planned on working out 
her frustration on him, unless he had an objection.  At first 
he didn't.  Then he did.  Mulder felt a rush of territoriality 
that for the moment, won out over arousal. In his mind's eye 
he saw seven years of brushes with death and bureaucratic 
bullshit, graveyards and hospital rooms. And he told himself 
that it wasn't going to happen--he'd be goddamned if any of 
that was going to touch this part of their lives. It was only 
going to be about the two of them, skin against skin, his 
life locked into place with hers.  And so he pressed her, 
temporarily bringing the proceedings to a grinding halt.

She stared up at him, eyes questioning, confused.  "Why? Why 
talk about it now?"

He cupped her chin with one hand and whispered, "Because I 
don't want them to have this." His free hand stroked her 
collarbone and came to rest just above her heart.

It was the ache in his voice that did it, and finally,
she relented.  A long silence and then the words came. Even 
in her quiet, deliberate way it was obvious that she was 
angry, but it was all directed at Kersh, at a bureaucracy she 
had no more patience for. She told him that they would deal 
with it, they always had, that they always would. She also 
told him that it didn't matter in the long run, they were 
together, that they would get the X-Files back, but yes, it 
was bad.  A minute later her lips were against his ear, her 
voice liquid as honey,  "Make me feel better."

Cross examination finished, he dragged her to the
bathroom announcing it was time for hydrotherapy and peeled 
off her clothes even though she pretended to fight him off.  
With the sound their laughter unfurling all around them, 
Scully managed to push him into the shower fully clothed and 
everything about that day dissolved as they fucked standing 
up, hot water sluicing over them, her without a stitch and 
him in his full FBI gear. Right now he can hear the water 
pulse and unkink his stiff neck, smell the soap and her skin 
and wet wool, feel her...hit him in the head with a paper 
clip.

His eyes slowly opened, "I detect a disturbance in the Force. 
Scully, clearly you've gone over to the dark side."

"You're daydreaming." She turned her chair to face 
him, and dangled a box of paperclips in his direction.

"Day dreaming would mean I am not performing my task as a law
enforcement officer, that I am violating the trust that..."

"My mistake. You were meditating, ruminating, cogitating, 
mentally levitating...Come on Mulder, surely one of them 
applies."

"I was astral projecting, if you must know. Continuing 
research. Multi-tasking."

"Astral projecting, I see. Fascinating as always, Mulder... 
all on the taxpayer's dime. And just what, exactly, were you 
directing your astral body to do?"

He slid himself over to her desk, leaned in and whispered,  
"My astral body was doing bad bad things to your astral body. 
Slowly, very very slowly, things of an explicit sexual 
nature. In fact, on the metaphysical plane, parts of 
me are grinding into you even as we speak."

"Really? Funny, I don't seem to be feeling a thing. Maybe 
your astral body needs a guidance system." She flashed him a 
wicked smile, and he started to move closer.

"Maybe I need directionals that are more...three dimensional. 
Could you help me with that, Scully?"

Her hand flew up, stopping him, "Hold it right there, I'm 
sure you don't want this assignment to be any longer than 
necessary. I know I don't. C'mon, there's a ton of data you 
need to review and calls I need to make. Break's over."

His mercury eyes locked with hers for a minute, then he 
sat back, threw his arms over his head and stretched. 
"Oh, fuck it...You have your weapon. Put me out of my 
misery."

"What? Right now? I guess I could just shoot you, but I 
thought the plan was for you to die a slow, lingering death 
caused by having sex as often as possible, in every 
conceivable position until you tragically died of exhaustion." 
She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and tried 
to keep on her game face.

"Oh right, that."  His eyes lit up and he let himself take in 
how heart-stoppingly gorgeous she was, even here, in the middle 
of the day in the midst of what was without a doubt their 
crappiest assignment.   "You win then, it's back to the grindstone 
for yours truly. One thing though, you couldn't have been 
diligently making calls and observing my paranormal research 
at the same time. Are we feeling a little bored, Agent Scully?"

She gave him the raised eyebrow and the scowl, and pointed a 
well-manicured finger at his desk. "Work, Mulder, work."
Her heart really wasn't in it and she knew he knew.

"You didn't answer my question. Tell me."

"Bored to tears. bored beyond belief, bored to the very core 
of my being. But I'm plan on getting through this if for 
no other reason that it will piss off that sanctimonious 
sonovabitch Kersh."

"Scully, you always know what to say." He laced his fingers 
together and cracked his knuckles, then slowly moved back 
into position at the computer. But Mulder managed to notice 
his partner smiling and shaking her head from the corner of 
his eye. He was going to get them sprung, at least for a 
couple of days. The question was how.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Salvation came at about four o'clock that afternoon in the 
form of the Private Security Registration Database for the State 
of Maryland. At first glance, Mulder thought he was just strung 
out on caffeine, or that this assignment was finally rotting out 
his brain. But there it was, between Ramos, Daniel -- Private
Investigator, and Rinnett & Co.,-- Corporate Security...
Rashad and Reeves, Ltd. He opened the file and sure enough, 
there were the photos and background data on Calvin Rashad 
and Terrence Reeves. Could it be possible? These were people 
he knew, people he liked, people who hated the pencil pushers 
just as much as he did.  Maybe it was time for a road trip to 
Baltimore.

When he'd first met them they were all in BSU. Calvin was 
attached to the unit as a consulting pathologist and Terrence 
had been the golden-boy profiler until Mulder got assigned 
to the unit. The two friends were thick as thieves and not
particularly disposed to having a Hallmark moment with a young, 
white, rich-boy-East-Coast-smartass. They sniffed around him 
warily until he'd cracked open a serial kidnapping case, 
following a lead that the SAC explicitly told him to ignore. 
Afterward, they became an unholy trio at work, much to the 
dismay of supervisors. A growing lack of respect for authority, 
the appearance of unconventional methods, and a killer 
solve rate was the result of the new alliance -- so even 
though the higher-ups didn't like it, it meant they were 
pretty much left alone.

Reeves and Rashad saw that the tall white boy needed some
remedial education and decided to take care of it. In between 
cases, Terrence schooled him in the fine art of the jump shot, 
and Calvin tutored him in the differences between 12 and 18 year 
old Scotch. Both of them were constantly on him with what became 
their chant, 'Get a woman, and get a life.'  Mulder 
scrolled down the file again,  "Gentlemen,"  muttering 
to himself, "It only took me almost a decade, but mission 
accomplished."

Their glory days were short-lived. Terrence soon got
transferred to the Atlanta field office as an ASAC, and made 
sure Calvin followed him there. After that, Mulder found himself 
alone again, and strange things began to happen. It didn't take 
much for him to get fairly strange himself, and it wasn't long 
before he won himself a permanent slot in the basement of the 
Hoover Building. They'd lost touch until about a year ago when 
he heard that they'd both been shot and seriously wounded in a 
raid on a drug dealer. When he phoned them in the hospital, 
he got the usual earful from Terrence, who was quick to playfully 
lay into him,  "Goddamn, Mulder! Nice of you to call...you know me, 
I'll do almost anything to get close to some pretty, young nurses.  
I'd ask how you are, but we both know you can't play basketball 
worth shit, and I doubt seriously you're getting laid.  
Don't forget, I know what you look like, Spooky."

When Calvin got on the line he was as direct and 
circumspect as always,  "Reeves and I have thought about 
freelancing for awhile. I think we're both clear that staying 
alive just might mean a slight change of career....It's just 
time for us to make a move, Fox.  We've been lucky for a long 
time and now it's time to quit."

Apparently, by the look of things now, they'd done more than 
just consider it; they'd gotten out of Bureau and opened their 
own security firm. Based on the description in the record, 
they specialized in protecting high profile individuals. 
Famous people, wealthy people. And from the looks of the gun 
purchase manifests, it was clear the clientele required that 
someone have major firepower.

He was going to go for it.  He'd call them and if there was 
any possibility of the existence of God, they'd be available, 
and the two of them could get the hell of out of the office for 
a couple of days.  Waving at her furiously, he proclaimed, 
"It's Salvation time, Scully!"

This display pulled her off the phone, if for no other reason 
than medical curiosity. Her partner had clearly gone off his 
rocker again, and she wondered exactly which diagnostic code 
they were going to use in the hospital this time. On the other 
hand, she was sure her eyes were going to cross if she made one 
more phone call. Maybe she'd just cash in her mental health chips 
and join him.  "I was hoping the Second Coming would look a 
little different than this. What have you got?"

Mulder flipped open his cel and dialed the number on the 
screen.  Someone who said they were an assistant answered 
the phone, and made sure he let her know that this was a FBI 
related matter and that he needed to speak with Mr. Reeves 
or Mr. Rashad immediately. He glanced a Scully, who was 
tapping furiously on her desk and mouthing 'What are you doing?'
He mouthed back,  "It's OK...you'll see,"  and winked.

"Calvin Rashad here."

"Hey, Calvin, it's Mulder. At least I didn't wait until the 
next hospitalization to call."

Scully came over and stood in front of his desk, she was not 
about to be left out of the loop. Calvin's baritone was
coming through loud and clear.  "Fox! It's great to hear 
from you! I'm good, really good. Terrence is his usual self, 
but hardly otherwordly. We don't really have anything here 
to interest an expert on the paranormal, just the lives 
of the rich and famous. But I suspect you already know what 
we're up to, since you made the call. What can we do for you?"

"Well, now that you mention it..."  With that Mulder launched 
into the whole description of their tragic situation, and 
how Reeves and Rashad held the keys to freedom, if they didn't
mind helping an old pal and his partner. The plan was simple, 
he and Scully would come to Baltimore for a couple of days, 
they could see how Reeves & Rashad conducted business, write a 
glowing report of how the former agents were not trading on 
their FBI cachet. Mulder hoped they'd bite -- it'd keep him from 
having to be put in restraint again, to say nothing of giving 
him at least forty-eight glorious hours alone with Scully.

Rashad was chuckling at the other end of the line, 
"You must have really gotten in A.D. Kersh's craw. Good for you. 
Of course you can both come out here, bur please come as our 
guests. No hotel. We have quite the setup for out of town 
clients. Luckily, we've been successful and well...these days 
we entertain and protect. Come on out and we'll take care of 
everything. One thing though, your 'partner,' she's a little 
more than that, isn't she?"

"Yes, yes she is. How did you know?"

"Fox, your voice gave you away every time you mentioned 
her name. Careful, you sound like a man in love."

"That bad, huh?" Mulder was chuckling himself now.  "Listen, 
you'll meet her and you'll see for yourself."

He closed the file, shoved his cellphone in his pocket, picked 
up an internal line and asked for Assistant Director Kersh. 
Kersh's receptionist tried to take a message, but Mulder told 
her that this was about the Bureau's public image and she 
wouldn't want to inadvertently withhold information from the  
Assistant Director. He had to play this just right, so when 
Kersh picked up he heard one solemn and serious Special Agent.  
"Sir, I came across a security firm registration that involves 
two former agents."

"Yes, Agent Mulder, that's riveting news. How is this a concern 
of mine?"  The baritone at the other end of the line sounded 
impatient.

"There's no discrepancies in the documentation, but there is an 
issue of whether or not the applicants are using their previous 
employment as means of promoting themselves.  You know sir, if it 
looks bad, it's bad for the FBI.  What I'd like to do is send 
someone out there to check into it, someone suitable." Mulder 
made sure Kersh could hear the smirk ease into his voice.  
"Assistant Director, Agent Scully and I are senior agents, 
and frankly, while this matter needs attention, it's hardly 
the kind of work we're used to."

"Send someone? Agent Mulder, what you and Agent Scully are 
used to doing and what I plan on having you do are clearly
two different things, in case that hasn't become clear to 
you. Since you've been so diligent thusfar, I suggest you 
both get ready to do some field work.  Take a couple of days 
to make a thorough site visit, see how they conduct business.  
Is that clear, Agent?"

"Crystal, sir."  Mulder let his voice ice up.

"Oh, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention." Click, 
and then a dead line.

"No Alvin, thank you."  Mulder calmly placed the receiver 
down and took in his victory. Superior strategy is its own 
reward, he thought. Screw that, he thought a second later. 
His arm shot up and he gave the universe a thumb's up.

"I take it you're pleased with yourself."
Scully shook her head, poor Alvin never stood a chance
against her partner's machinations.

"You should be pleased with me as well. C'mon, we're outta 
here."  With that, he slung on his suitjacket, loosened his tie, 
and grabbed her by the hand. She could barely get on her blazer 
and grab her bag. He hustled her into the elevator and by then 
she'd managed to organize herself. As he hit the button, 
she looked over at him and tried to sound exasperated as she 
chuffed,  "I know I should be saying something to try to stop 
you." 

"Since when has that ever worked?" 

"Point taken...By the way, what was that I overheard your 
friend saying? Something to the effect that you sound like a man 
in love?" She was smiling now.

"There's definitely a rumor floating around to that effect." 
He started fingering the lapel of her jacket. He was smiling too.

"Well then, it would appear that further investigation is in 
order. Lead on Mulder, lead on."

They pretty much maintained their professional decorum the 
rest of the ride down to the garage. As they started to split 
up to get into their respective cars, she tugged at his sleeve.

"Mulder..."  She suddenly felt bold, especially since there 
didn't appear to be anyone in her line of vision.  "I suggest 
we drive home as quickly as possible."

"Why? You can't be in that much of a hurry to get to 
Baltimore."  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Why? Because we're going to throw some things into a bag, 
get to wherever we're going and complete whatever interview 
you've got planned. Then I'm going get you alone and
make you forget every other woman you've ever been with."  
Scully felt the blush creep up her neck and across her face.  
She was so far gone, totally a lost cause. Making sexual 
overtures at work was proof she'd completely and utterly 
plunged off the deep end.  "I've gone and done it now, 
haven't I?"

He leaned into her and whispered in her ear,  "Not yet. 
But we will...and soon. There's no other woman to forget, 
Scully. No one worth the effort. There's just you. 
You know..."

He was going to say something else but she grabbed him on 
either side of his face and kissed him soundly. Might as well 
make losing it official, she told herself, and before he could 
do anything else she kissed him again, hard, and then ran and 
jumped into her car.  Out the driver's window she yelled, 
"Get going, Agent Mulder."

Scully was treated to the sight of him walking to his car like 
a man in a trance, slowly opening the door and easing in. 
She could barely make it out, but she was sure she heard, 
"Whatever you say, Agent Scully...whatever you say." As he put 
the key in the ignition, she could see he was grinning like 
an idiot.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

True to her word, Scully made it back first, ran into the 
apartment and headed for the bedroom and started packing an 
overnight bag. Pulling up a few minutes later, Mulder waited a 
minute before going inside. He flipped open his cel again and 
hit the number for Reeves and Rashad. Calvin picked up this 
time.

"Calvin, it's me again. Listen, I know it's asking a lot, but 
I want this trip to be special. Completely different from what 
she's used to. Could you handle a few things for me?"  He took 
Calvin's laughter on the other end as a 'yes'  "Here's my credit 
card number. Now here's what I was thinking...Right, that's what 
I want...You can? Great....Oh you did?  Perfect...That should just 
about do it."  He was finally going give Scully a surprise that 
didn't involve crop circles, ectoplasm or an ER--it was way 
overdue. He out of the car and sprinted the rest of the way 
until he was at the apartment door. He fumbled with his 
keys, and was just about to turn the lock when Scully opened the 
door.

She was breathless, barefoot and half-dressed, wearing black 
pants, an unbuttoned green shirt, a black lace bra. "Finally.
Get that profiling ass of yours in here, I was serious
about being in a hurry." She grabbed him by the elbow and 
yanked him inside.

"In a hurry to go or did you have something else in mind? You 
don't exactly look like you're ready to conduct official 
business."  He eyed her up and down and could see she 
was clearly a woman on a mission. A mission that hopefully 
featured nudity and them playing a hot and sweaty round of 
'connect the body parts.' For now, he'd try to be a good boy 
and wait. Still, he couldn't resist seizing the opportunity 
to toss some innuendo.

She was buttoning up and looking for her shoes, "Go change, 
I've got stuff packed for the two of us. The sooner we leave,
the sooner we conduct the interview, the sooner..."

He jumped on that one,  "The sooner you can conduct a
comparative anatomy lesson."

"Something like that. Go."

"Your wish is my command."

"We'll see about that later," and swatted him on the arm.
"Go.  On."
 
"Yes, dear." Mulder headed quickly to the bedroom before Scully
could hurl anything at his head. 

All it took was a few minutes and Mulder changed into 
the usual jeans and gray T-shirt, had snatched his leather 
jacket and the overnight bag, and now was the impatient one 
scuttling Scully out the door, out of the building and down
the front stairs.

She was just about to ask whose car were they going to 
use when she heard someone's voice, "Mr. Mulder? Ms. Scully?  
Mr. Reeves and Mr. Rashad sent me to drive you." He was standing 
next to a car next door to Scully's apartment. The car a was 
a late model, black Lincoln sedan, and the voice belonged 
to a young man wearing a chauffeur's uniform. He looked like 
an Iowa farmboy, young, hungry-eyed, and built like the 
proverbial brick shit-house. The look was completed by a 
Corp-style buzz-cut. The young centurion was standing at 
attention, but managed to break formation long enough 
to motion them to the car.

They started toward him, with Scully walking just slightly 
ahead. Her eyed narrowed and she let her head fall back to ask,  
"The Marines have arrived. Now what?"

He slipped his arm over Scully's shoulder and whispered, 
"There's nothing wrong with discipline, loyalty, and the ability 
to kill a man barehanded at close range.  Semper fi, Scully, 
just go with it."

"Semper fi, my ass." The eye-rolling had commenced.

"I'm ready to pledge my allegiance, but you'll have to wait 
until we get in the car."

"Mulder, don't let your mouth write a check your body can't 
cash, " was her zippy rejoinder.

He leaned into her even more, his breath hot in her ear, 
"That was a mistake."  He could feel her shudder. 
"It's on, Scully, the games have begun."

Corp-Boy opened the car door with a flourish, "Ma'am, allow 
me."

Scully treated Mulder to the sight of her delicious ass as 
she bent to slide her way into the cavernous interior. He got 
in alongside her, dropping the bag on the floor and
sprawling across the backseat. Tactical positioning was
completed by draping one leg over hers, and snaking an arm 
around her waist.  "Comfy, Scully?...I know I am."  
Then, to the young hero at the wheel, "I think it's time 
we blew this pop stand."  Then someone hit the control 
console in the back seat, and the driver could hear muffled 
laughter as the privacy window whirred shut.

They sat in silence for quite a few minutes. Mulder was 
humming, slouched lazily, arm draped against the back seat. 
Scully was tucked comfortably at his side, but her bliss 
was interrupted by one thought. Payback was rumored to be 
a bitch, and Mulder hadn't said anything since they'd left.

"Mulder, are you OK?"

"Uh huh, why shouldn't I be?"

"Well, you haven't said anything for at least fifteen minutes."

"Don't need to."

"Are you planning on telling me exactly where we're going?"

"Nope."

Mulder shifted his weight and moved so he was resting on his 
hip, facing Scully. He slid off her jacket against the sound of 
her feeble protests. He took his time letting his eyes rove 
across her face. Then he took her hand in his and began to 
trace swirling patterns across her palm, up her wrist, and 
along her forearm. Scully was aware of some rapid changes in 
her autonomic nervous responses. She could feel her heart 
speeding up, her breathing becoming more rapid. And before 
she could stop herself she was saying things like,  
"That's so...good."  Hearing him chuckle, she realized 
somebody was getting even.

"Mulder!"

Before she could say another word, he'd started kissing her 
neck, slow, ravenous kisses, smiling when heard her murmur his 
name. "Making you crazy yet?"

Scully could feel how quickly a vague sense of arousal became 
a precise and achy point between her legs. "You have no idea 
how much." She pulled away just enough for Mulder to see how 
the blue of her eyes were flecked with gold, the pupils dark 
with excitement.

Mulder leaned in and started to run his finger along the 
curve of Scully's mouth, stopping to tease her lower lip. 
"You know, since we have some time on our hands before we get 
where we're going, I was thinking we could play a driving game 
to kill the time. Here's how this one goes. I'll place my finger 
on a spot, kind of like what I'm doing now, and you'll tell me
whether or not you'd like my lips there. You game?"

She nodded. The thought of it was so simply erotic... 
"I'm assuming the game's...mutual."

"Ah, you read my mind." He was already hard as a knife, 
but he was gong to be patient tonight. They started a call 
and response, two words punctuating the silence, their hands 
moving subtly, but deliberately.

"There?" The corner of her mouth. 

"Yes."  A sharp intake of breath.

"There?" The notch of his collarbone. A sound like a low hum 
in his throat.

"Yes."

The rustle of fabric, and the slide of her shirt. "There?" 
The hollow between her shoulder blades. 

"Yes."  Her breath was ragged now.

"There?" The inside of his thigh. Her fingers dragging their 
way slowly up and down. 

"Yes. Jesus, yes."

"There?" The tender spot just behind her ear, then her 
earlobe, then the slope of her neck.  

"I...oh, I...yes."

He drew his fingers across her shoulders, brought them to her 
cleavage. He ran his fingers lightly over the rise of her 
breasts.  "There?"  Mulder could feel her sway underneath 
his touch, it stunned him how passionate she was, how her 
desire resonated through her whole body.

"Please..."

Scully's took her one of her hands and began lightly stroking 
Mulder's thighs again. "There?" 

"Don't...stop." He could barely get the words out.

She let her fingers trace a path to his hip and let them 
flutter all the way down, finally unzipping his pants and wrapping 
her hand around his cock. It was amazing she could keep her 
focus at all. Mulder was moving faster. He'd already managed 
to get past buttons and zippers, and was stroking her to wetness 
with one hand, and unfastening her bra with the other. As he 
bent forward to swirl his tongue over a nipple, Scully slid 
her hand up and down in slow, maddening strokes.  
'He better be taking the long route,' was Mulder's last 
complete thought for a quite a while.

(End/Chapter 1/3)

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Chapter 2/3

It was sometime later, although neither one of them was 
too aware of the passage of time, long enough for Corp-Boy 
to have made to it Baltimore. He'd parked the Lincoln down 
the block from Reeves and Rashad's office, gotten out and was 
now tapping on the back window.

"I think we've stopped."  Scully had ceased tracing lazy 
circles on his chest long enough to offer that flash of 
insight.  A second later and she'd snapped to attention, 
and was furiously trying to get herself together.

Mulder's eyes were still closed, his head lolling back 
against the cool leather upholstery. He wasn't able to 
shift gears as quickly but he could hear her rummaging 
the wetbar.  His opened slowly to a disheveled, 
tousled-haired Scully, one arm in her shirt, bra partially 
fastened. She was gorgeous, she was unbelievable, she was 
about to hurl some napkins at him.

"I guess the mood's been broken."  Mulder sat up, sighing, 
"I'll try to make myself presentable." He was momentarily 
transfixed by the sight of her bra still half undone, 
one breast almost spilling out of those wisps of lace.  
"Or I could help you first."

She wagged a finger at him and tsked.  "I think I'm still 
able to dress myself. Come on Mulder, hurry please. 
I really don't want the Corp thinking it's got to 
come to our rescue."

Over the next several minutes, they toweled off,
shoved themselves back into their clothes, buttoned up, 
zipped up and tried to give the appearance of two normal 
passengers just arriving from  D.C. The tapping went 
on unabated, coupled with,  "Mr. Mulder? Ms. Scully?"  
Corp-Boy knew better than to open the passenger door. 
After all, he'd driven Arrowsmith around last month.

"Remind me to get you in the back seat of a car more often."  
Mulder flung the door open with one hand, then pulled Scully 
out and grabbed the overnighter with the other, and 
victoriously emerged at last. Corp-Boy took his cue that 
it was time to go, so as soon as he was sure his party was 
planted on terra firma, he hauled himself into the Lincoln 
nd pulled away.

Scully scanned the immediate view, recognizing Baltimore's 
familiar roughhouses. About 100 feet away was a squat, 
cinderblock building with a neon sign that glowed red 
with the words: Reeves and Rashad.  A bar?  An office
that looked like a bar?  "So, this is our destination, eh? 
OK, Mulder, we've gone out of state so that you can take me 
to the corner tavern. A little weird for a site visit, 
wouldn't you say?"

"Your lack of faith in me is appalling, Scully. When have I 
ever taken you anyplace weird? Well...since this morning, 
anyway."

Standing in front of some of those squat houses was 
a tall, gray-eyed man with toffee-colored skin and a 
heedful of short, spiky dreads. He had a strong jaw and 
a full mouth, with traces of laugh lines at the corners 
of his eyes. He seemed confident, at ease as he signaled 
the two of them.  The look was completed by a full-on 
thousand-watt smile, a navy silk Versace suit and a 
white Italian cotton shirt open at the collar. It was 
Terrence Reeves, looking a lot less like a former ASAC.  
A lot less.

They started toward him, with Scully walking about five 
feet ahead. Keeping her eyes on the man approaching she asked, 
"You're telling me this guy was in BSU? That he was an ASAC?"

From behind her she could hear,  "Let's just say 
working with celebrities encourages a certain look."

"Mulder, good to see you. Really good."   Odd, because Terrence 
wasn't looking at Mulder at all. Reeves was a consummate
button-presser. It'd made him a good interrogator, amongst
other things, and tonight he was going to enjoy the hell
out of getting a rise out of his old friend from the BSU.

"Uh, I'm over here."  Mulder pointed to himself and waived. 
He could see that Reeves already had a bead on Scully and 
had gotten a little too close for his comfort. His jaw 
tightened as he watched Terrence sidle up to her and 
turn his back.  Mulder did the math, it was starting 
already. Time to flex those Alpha male muscles, and quick. 


Before he could get out a word, Terrence looked over 
at him and drawled, "I know what__you__look like."  
And to Scully, "I'm Terrence Reeves, and believe me, 
the pleasure is all mine."  He dipped his head to hers, 
draped her arm over his and whispered,  "Let's yank his 
chain.  Just follow my lead, OK?"  She locked eyes with 
him for a fraction of a second and when he raised his head 
and flashed a conspiratorial grin just beyond Mulder's 
line of vision.

"You must be Dana! I'm sorry such a beautiful woman is 
saddled with the likes of this guy. But at least it 
means I have a chance to meet you."

Mulder was sure a line like that would earn his friend 
the 30 below treatment from his one and only. What he 
heard caught him by surprise. Instead of the withering  
retort, the patented Scully put-down, he heard this 
candy-coated response,  "Terrence, you wouldn't mind 
showing me around, would you?"  Turning to Mulder, 
"Just trying to get this interview underway, partner." 
The insult to this injury was the sight of Scully 
actually letting Reeves steer her toward the door by 
guiding her with his hand at the small of her back.

Mulder followed the two of them, the bag in tow and
feeling like he was somebody's faithful manservant. 
And he could sense the hackles rising on the green-eyed 
monster. What the hell was going on?  He mumbled something 
about someone still being a dick after all these years, 
while attempting to telepathically drill a hole in the 
back of Reeves' head. The jury was still out as to what 
he thought about Scully, although he seriously
considered the possibility of mind control.


But if Terrence noticed, his behavior didn't waiver, 
neither did Scully's. They just strolled right along, 
making some inane chatter. Mulder thought he must be 
hallucinating. This was a woman who charged down halls 
in a flak jacket, who dug up the dead and sliced open 
corpses, who told him to shut his Oxford-educated mouth 
when she was fed up with him.  His love, his life,
who was practically plastered against a guy she'd 
never seen before five minutes ago.

Terrence started to open the door for her, and announced  
"Any man you're with should consider himself damn lucky. 
Let's hope my man Mulder here's picked up on that. 
For someone so smart, I hear sometimes he misses the big
picture. Me, I try not to make that kind of mistake."

That was it. Mulder darted under Terrence's arm, got 
himself wedged against his beloved and removed Reeves' 
arm and the offending hand from its spot, pushing their 
bag into his hand. Reeves darted thru the doorway and 
took in the sight of the two of them, fairly amused with 
himself. He held the overnighter in front of his chest,
"Hey Spooky, did you want me to do something with this?"

His friend shot him a look,  "Well, you__could__shove 
it..."

Terrence cut him off, laughing.  "Maybe I'll just stow 
it behind the bar."

"Good idea."

Mulder pulled her in front of him and wrapped his arms 
around her chest. Sliding his feet behind her and 
bumping himself into the small of her back, they waddled 
through the door, with her laughter getting louder the 
further they walked.  "That's it, Scully, move it 
or lose it."  To Reeves, "Sorry to cut in, but you 
know how it is."

They made their way toward Terrence and Scully noticed a 
small, hand-lettered note on the door: Private party. 
For a second, it didn't register that they were the 
party in question.  "Mulder, There's something gong 
on here tonight."

"Yes, my dear Watson, brilliant deduction. We're what's 
going on tonight.. But before the festivities begin, 
let me introduce you to Calvin Rashad."  He nudged her
with his knee just above her tattoo.

Calvin was standing behind the bar, looking more like a 
professor of literature than an ex-agent. He was taller than 
the other two men, with chocolate-colored skin, high cheekbones, 
and a Roman nose atop which sat a pair of round tortoiseshell 
glasses.  To complete the scholarly appearance, he wore an 
immaculate blue Oxford shirt buttoned to the top, a herringbone
tweed vest, and corduroy slacks.

"Well, let me come out and properly greet the two of you. 
He moved from behind the bar, walked over to them, and extended 
his hand first to Mulder.  "Fox, I have to say, you look 
damn happy." He then took both of Scully's hands in his as 
he greeted her.  "Dana, glad to meet you, I'm Calvin Rashad. 
From  the looks of things, you've had a positive 
effect on our usually dour friend here."  Calvin gestured
them forward to the barstools.  "C'mon, let's get you two 
settled in."  Looking over at his own partner who'd slipped 
behind the long curve of the bar, "I'm assuming 
Terrence has been his usual charming self."  Mulder moved from 
behind Scully, keeping his arm around her waist, walked her 
up her to the bar and watched appreciatively as she slid into 
a seat,  "Like always." They both got comfortable, stripping 
off their jackets and throwing them on a nearby stool.

Scully had been taking in her surroundings. As plain as 
the building was on the outside; it was beautifully done 
on the inside.  The bar itself was mahogany; the stools 
were leather, the lighting soft, a pressed tin ceiling
stretched overhead. A long gilt-frame mirror spanned the 
wall behind the bar, reflecting the four of them. 
There was a small dance floor on the other side of 
the room and a old style jukebox. The tables and had been 
put up, except for one, bracketed by two chairs. 
"This is your office? Quite...remarkable."

Calvin had joined his partner on the other side of the bar.
"Actually, this is where we where we house out-of-town clients.  
Many of them are entertainers and musicians... with the bar 
and bedroom in back we offer them something comfortable and 
private. Our business office is on the waterfront. It's a 
little more official looking than this."  Terrence offered 
his perspective,  "Plus, having this place gives us an excuse 
to play the best music on earth, R &B...blues....jazz.  
And I always told myself I'd have a bar one day. Finally 
lived long enough to merge business with pleasure."  
He winked at Scully,  "Looks like you and Mulder here have, 
too. Or am I wrong?"  He was treated to the sight of her 
staring at her partner over the bridge of her nose, 
as if to say, 'You want to handle that one, Oxford-Boy?'

Mulder jumped on that,  "Propriety is my middle name, 
Terrence. As a matter of fact, we're here to assess 
how you recruit these clients. Is there any use of your 
previous employment status in the marketing of your 
firm?"  He'd tried strapping on the serious, big-dog-in-
the-house attitude and he would have pulled it off, except 
for the bar straw sticking out of the corner of his
mouth. 

Not to be outdone, Reeves volleyed back,  "You need to back
up on that one, Tall-Boy."  He started laughing,  "Hell, 
we built this business on looking bad, talking tough, 
and being the meanest hombres on the playing field."

Scully, for her part, was watching this little testosterone 
display with rapt fascination, imagining what it would have 
been like to have been in the BSU with the two of them. 
She hypothesized that working with both of them would have 
forced her to violate her Hippocratic Oath; she'd willingly 
use extreme measures to rein them in.

It was Calvin who was the voice of reason,  "Fox, we really 
didn't have to exploit our backgrounds. It was more 
advantageous to hint at some vague cloak and dagger history.  
People love danger by association when its implied. Tell
A.D. Kersh that Reeves and Rashad, Ltd. are totally on 
the up and up. And when I get to the office, I'll ask 
Gloria to messenger all our promotional material to you 
in D.C., enough for you to wallpaper Alvin's office.  
Satisfied?"

Mulder was. He loosened up, wagging his head,  "Works for me. 
This work for you, Agent Scully?"

Unlike her usual response, she heard herself reply, 
"Very much so, Agent Mulder."  In any other circumstance, 
she'd feel guilty, duty-bound, ready to go through a 
a more thorough investigation, but something 
in her was utterly committed to the escape that Mulder had 
engineered. It was obvious that Rashad and Reeves didn't 
need to hype their firm, and there would be enough paper 
to collectively cover everyone's asses. Seven years 
with her impulsive, iconoclastic partner had rubbed off. 
Screw it, she told herself, screw the bullshit, 
and live a little.  "I believe we have enough 
information...what do you recommend we do next?"

Mulder turned to her and mouthed, 'Alriiiight.'  
In a crisp, clear and unmistakably delighted voice he 
announced to everyone in the room,  "I believe it's time 
to par-tay!"

Calvin took this as his cue, while Terrence leaned against 
the back of the bar to watch the kick-off of the festivities.  
"Well, let's start things off right.  Fox placed quite the 
tall order, but we were able to comply."  With that, he 
reached down and pulled out shot glasses, and a bottle of 
vodka --Russian, but rare and hard to come by -- Scully  
recognized it was a brand you needed friends who still had 
contacts in Customs to procure for you. The bottle was 
sparkling with a thin sheen of frost, Calvin set it in a 
bucket filled with more ice.  Rashad turned away for a minute 
and went to the refrigerator just behind him. He came back 
with a covered, silvery tray.  "Oh yes, Fox had us get 
this too." As he pulled off the lid, Scully took in the 
coup de gras -- caviar -- sevruga -- ridiculously costly -- 
Mulder had insisted on this too.

"I'm...speechless." Scully looked completely bowled over. 
Just what Mulder wanted. She drew his hands onto her lap 
and began to trace a lazy 'S' against his palms. She felt  
completely fazed, this was unbelievable: she had never been 
the object of this kind of attention, and never thought she 
would be.

He leaned toward her and said softly, "I'm sorry it took 
so long."  Despite the fact that there were two other people 
in the room, he began to place tiny kisses along her 
cheek, threading his fingers in her hair.

Calvin and Terrence tossed each other a look: it was time 
to go. Rashad cocked his head toward the door, and Reeves 
nodded.  Mulder and Scully didn't seem to be paying too 
much attention to anyone else but each other.

Just before they were about to leave, Terrence yelled 
playfully, "Sure you won't miss us? We could stay... "

Mulder and Scully's heads snapped around in unison. "No!" 
Scully grinning, waived goodbye; while Mulder shooed 
them away.

"Didn't really think so, but I wanted to hear it from you. 
We're gonna lock you in here, and..."  His voiced trailed
off, Goddamn, they were already back at it. Terrence shrugged  
and turned to his friend.  "C'mon partner, let's roll.  
No need to stay where we're not wanted."

Outside, as he checked the door, Calvin ran down the drill 
with Terrence. "Keep a line open. He'll call when they're 
ready. I'm on my way to the office; looks like one of our 
clients needs some hand holding.  You got his back, right?"

"You know it. Hers too." Reeves got in to the car and waited 
until his partner drove off. As he put the key in the 
ignition, he made his own assessment of the two people they'd 
just left. Mad love. Mad love, indeed. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The party, had in fact started. Mulder placed a shot in 
Scully hand. She was perched on the edge of the stool, 
looking far too luscious for her own good. It was time 
to kick this bad boy into full gear. He broke out his
best mangled Russian accent.  "Tonight, we leave behind 
our miserable lives as Moose and Squirrel. We are Boris 
and Natasha, partaking of the vodka, the caviar. There 
will be no talk of the miserable work of law enforcement."

"Boris, how can I ever thank you?" Scully rolled the 
glass between her hands. She thought she just might be 
a femme fatale, at least in his eyes.

"A drink first, Natasha, and maybe later you'll let Boris
inside your trenchcoat. Hold up your glass." They were 
both laughing as she dutifully complied. Mulder was in 
rare form,  "Following my lead without an argument? 
There's a first."  He touched the rim of his glass 
with hers, and the mood shifted, and he looked
at her with an almost unbearable tenderness. 
And something else.  Expectancy.

Something broke open in her in that split second.
Two weeks ago she pledged herself to him with a willing 
body and claimed him for her own. But there was one 
last step, one last thing held back until just this instant. 
A truth burst free from the last of her reserve, her fear. 
Something about the paper thin impermanence of life
compelled her to turn a corner and not look back.

The air around them seemed to still, "Let me make a 
toast...Graim thu."  She held his gaze in hers, and
gave him a grave, beautiful smile.  One that held
the future.

"I know that wasn't Russian, Scully. Should I guess?" 

"It's Gaelic...it means I love you."  She didn't flinch,
didn't look away.

Mulder struggled to let the weight of this sink into
his psyche, his soul. She'd said it, finally said it.
His voice was raw when he tried to tell her, "You
know you don't have to...I know...I..." 

She took her free hand and rested it against his cheek,  
"There you're wrong. I do and I will, from now on."

He rallied and gave her a smile of his own, 
"Well then, I guess it's time to celebrate." 
  
On cue, they downed the first icy shot. It was smooth, 
cold at first against their lips, then as it swirled down 
their throats, it changed into warm silk, a sensual charge. 
Scully felt it ripple through her chest. She began to 
feel it work.  "Mulder, you have me where you want me."

Mulder felt his chest expand with warmth, and felt a 
surge of excitement. He wanted nothing more than to 
explore every inch of her skin, in every way he could 
think of.  "Let me show you how to eat this Russian-style. 
Give me your hand." Mulder reached over, took one and 
splayed it, palm down against his. With his free hand, 
he reached over and picked up a spoon of caviar, and 
smeared it on the soft curve between her forefinger 
and thumb.  "Now this is the most important 
part."  He brought the crescent of flesh to his mouth,
slipped the cold luxury and warm skin between his lips. 
"Delicious."  His lips parted in a slow, lazy smile, 
and held out one of his hands.  "Now, it's your turn."

Scully prided herself in being a quick study. She repeated 
the move: his hand, soft spot near the thumb, caviar, and 
then her mouth gliding across his skin. She finished, 
but didn't take her lips away, kissing the spot, letting 
herself linger. A moment passed and she raised her head, 
and saw Mulder's eyes were closed, his head tilted back 
slightly.  "Good?"

He opened his eyes and leaned into her, brushing his lips 
against hers,  "Very good...But there's something else 
I want...Dance with me."

"Mulder...I...we've never really..." She was surprised 
and a little embarrassed.  She'd been firing her weapon 
and sublimating and cutting open cadavers for so long 
that she wasn't sure she remembered how.

As if he read her mind, Mulder whispered,  "You know how, 
Scully. So do I. I want to make up for lost time...Say yes." 

She couldn't argue with that. "For lost time, then... yes"

He took her by the arm and walked her to the juke box. 
It was packed with Marvin Gaye, Miles, Nina Simone, 
The Sherelles, Monk, Howlin' Wolf...classics. They flipped 
through the huge amount of choices, until Mulder spied G11 -- 
Otis Redding. 

He pulled a quarter out of his pocket, shoved it in
the slot, and the sounds of "More Than Words Can Say" 
cascaded through the room. Longingly sensual, Otis' raspy 
plea swelled around them, 'I just couldn't wait, not for 
another day.' Mulder wrapped his arm around her waist
and they circled the floor slowly. Bending toward her, 
he started kissing her brow, her cheek, easing to her mouth. 
It was deliberate, reverent, and he murmured between each 
kiss,  "Graim thu."  Otis' voice swelled with the ache of 
being denied for so very long. 'You've got me in your hand, 
why can't you understand?'

Scully knew now how deeply he'd loved her, had always
loved her, the truth of it vibrated through her each time
his lips connected with her skin. Even though she'd buried 
it deeper, it'd been the same for her and she would show him.  
Openly.  Without hesitation.  Starting here, starting 
tonight.  Her hand traced a line from his cheek, down 
his throat to his shoulder.

They circled again and again, 'Baby, please.' His mouth kept 
moving against her skin--the kissing never stopped, and he 
kept whispering the words in Gaelic, the words merging into 
the song. He was sinking, sinking, drowning in the feel of 
her, dissolving.  Against her mouth, he promised,  "Always." 

As Otis crooned, 'I love you...more than words can say,'
Scully's warm mouth hungrily sought his, her tongue parted 
his lips. She wasn't dancing anymore, she was flying.

(End/Chapter 2/3)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 3/3

She's still flying.  Her tongue's mapping every inch of 
the inside of his mouth, her lips hotly sealed over his. 
Her hands are squeezing his shoulders, and then in an 
instant, it's all reversed. He's mouth's on hers and 
he's almost reeling from the sharp sting of vodka, the 
salt sea-taste of caviar, and the underlying richness 
that is just her. The tip of his tongue flicks against 
her lower lip, and he hums low in his throat as she draws 
it into her mouth. Tongues tease and slide against
each other, and the crush of lips is as explosive as a 
binary star. Then they're moving, and it's not clear who 
started it, but they're all of a sudden sprawled in one 
of the two chairs on the tiny dance floor. The shot glasses 
are clumsily slammed on the table, and their hands are all
over each other again as they struggle to get purchase. 
When the dust settles, he's sitting, and he's drawn her 
between his legs. She's half standing, and her hands are 
gripping his shoulders.  They're both breathing heavily. 

And then they break the kiss, staring at each other,
silent and stunned with the enormity of their want, feebly 
searching for the strength to speak. Seconds pass, minutes, 
too. It is possible that it's become so quiet they can hear 
the grinding of tectonic plates.

A confident smile eases its way across her face.  "If I take 
the guesswork out of this for you, will you still respect me 
in the morning?"

"Respect.   Want.   Need.   I have a selection here to pick 
from."

"What if I'm interested in all of the above."

"I think I can arrange that."

She brushes the hair away from his forehead and her eyes 
drop briefly to his mouth,  "Make love to me, Mulder."

Now he's the one with the confident smile, "I think it's time 
for bed."  And he takes her hand and heads for the door behind 
the bar.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They know what they're doing, where they're going, but walking 
from the dance floor to the backroom and crossing the threshold 
into the bedroom leaves them a little breathless. Just when they 
both think they're as connected as two people could ever be, 
they descend to some underground aquifer, some deeper place where 
they submerge even more into the deepest parts of themselves 
and each other.

It's hugely satisfying to see that the bed itself is enormous, 
with a carved, dark wood headboard, down pillows, red Thai silk 
comforters. There's also silk and cotton sheets, which they notice 
as Mulder peels them away with one hand. His other is still
holding Scully's, he can't bear to not be touching her right 
now. The contact means the promise can't be broken, 
the dream over.

They sit wordlessly on the edge of the bed, and slowly undress 
each other. This is some kind of braille, some kind new language 
where everything spoken by touch. Their clothing pools on the 
floor, no longer an interruption. Now comes the time for the 
poetry only skin can tell.

Her skin is incandescent, hot against body when she drapes
herself over him.--he is staggered by how combustable it all 
feels. He buries his open mouth in the hollow of her throat 
and has a fleeting mental image of burn marks on the sheets 
as he wraps his hands around her hips. 

Scully pulls herself up and away, and whispers  
'I want to make you feel everything'  She moves, 
marks him subtly, lightly strafing his ribs with her nails, 
the knob of his shoulder with her teeth. Unhurried, she 
takes what seems like an eternity and traces some secret 
symbols across his chest with her tongue, savoring salt 
and skin and her own abandon. 

Mulder knows every good deed deserves a reward, 
so he rolls over and rasps his thumbs over her lips, her 
stomach and hips, tormenting, gentle strokes replaced with 
harder kisses.  He spends what seems like forever 
on her breasts, swirling his tongue over a nipple, 
then roughing both them with his teeth and she thinks 
she might be losing her mind. She wants to cry out, 
but the feel of his mouth on hers is too good to stop. 
Her tongue flickers in his mouth like lamplight, 
like memory.

This is devastating, this arousal. It's their special brand
of fusion. He can taste how he tastes on her, and no vodka 
was ever this intoxicating. As if she can read his mind, 
she moans her assent.

She slips a hand between her legs, warm, slick wetness coating 
her fingers. She draws the pads of her fingertips up the 
underside of his cock, the heat of them marking him from tip 
to root. She fully cradles him in her palm, he is her
treasure. She strokes him, rubbing her thumb along the edge 
of his cock, making a sacred circle, thinking about the snake 
on her back and eternity. Mulder traces his thumb against her 
clit, around and around, crowning her with a halo as he calls 
her 'angel.'

He takes his thumb and licks it clean before sitting up and 
tugging her to the huge pillows by the headboard. She straddles 
him and he makes use of both hands. One of hers has slid 
around his cock again, and the other is tracing the edges 
of his mouth.

"You're beautiful," she whispers.

"So are you," he whispers in response.

He quickly slides his fingers inside her in a smooth plunge. 
The sight of his hand between her legs brings him to the edge. 
He bites down on his lower lip to keep from coming, he wants 
to last, he wants to do so much more to her, with her. 
She's wet and soft and tight, those gorgeous reddish curls
parted and baring the rose-dark slippery flesh. He spreads her 
open, and she grinds into his palm.  He can feel 
her clit, a fleshy knot against the ball of his thumb. 
He wants to make her come like this first, wants to see her 
body blush for him, wants to feel her body contract and soar. 
He can hardly believe it when she stills his hand and with 
one of hers draws down the hard, sleek length of him, 
sliding the head of his cockjust inside of her. 
Now her fingertips swirl up and down, and she feels him 
surge as her hand closes around him at the root.
 
 
In the two weeks they'd been lovers the sex had been urgent,  
playful, sensual, loving.  And in one of those times there had 
been a split second where some forever kind of branding had 
slipped under the radar before either one of them was fully 
ready to consciously acknowledge it. It was inescapable now, 
stripping back the old hurts, sealing the wounds. She'd seen 
him wracked with pain, scraped raw with grief and guilt, 
on the verge of psychotic, but never like this--losing himself 
in a joy so primal, so basic, she thinks it might change the way 
he looks forever. But the alchemy only happens on the inside, 
his face stays the same, here he is, her own truly beloved 
and as she keeps looking into his eyes she sees herself, 
that same joy reflected there.

"You know...you can feel it, can't  you?"  he breathed, 
as the world beyond the world cracked open. In one fluid 
motion, she is underneath him, and he covers her body 
like a canopy.

"Yes, yes," she breathes in counterpoint. 
It is knowledge that is liberating.

"You're not afraid?" he asks in a ragged breath, 
hoping, hoping.

"No...only that we'll forget." She is barely able to speak.

"Never."  He presses her hand against his heart so hard there 
is a print when she moves it to join the other one at the base 
of his cock.

"Never." She doesn't blink when he slides into her deep with 
one, long, slick stroke, and her hands falls away.

She gasped as he hitched her legs under his arms. Now he was 
there again, hitting her clit just right, slow at first, 
and then faster as he felt her clench and tense around him. 
She kept her eyes open, to let him know - to make sure he knew. 
Pleasure streaked through her like sheet lightning, and
one small part of the universe was rent apart in a bright, 
red hot second. She rode the wave within herself, over and over. 
She died a thousand little deaths, twisting underneath him, 
trying to say the words, but the only thing issuing from her 
mouth were those wordless words, the ones for him alone.

She's still coming, but it's fading now, like the outermost eddy 
on far surf. He wanted to tell her all the secrets he'd ever 
known, but he was thrusting, in and out and there was nothing else 
but how hot and tight and wet she was. He was at the brink when 
she murmured,  'Look what you do to me',  and the trembling 
started, and the blood was roaring in his ears and the shattering
overtook him, again and again, and the new truth was sealed in 
his heart as poured himself into her.

Sweat dripped from his hair onto her neck, his voice little more 
than a sigh, and he sank on top of her. Wrapping her arms and legs 
around him in a four-limbed embrace, she would be his little jailer, 
holding him captive against her breasts, her lion's heart.

He pulls his head away from the curve of her shoulder and tries 
to look at her, his eyes heavy lidded, his voice slurred and sleepy, 
"This old guy's not gonna last much longer."

"Don't worry, she says as she guides his head down and smoothes his 
hair,  "I'll be here when you  wake up, 'Space Cowboy'." 
She's teasing him, but there's love there, too.

"So, I'm your 'Gangster of Love'?" The words come out as a mumble,
and his breath hitches, draws long and deep.

"There's no other." She smiles as she feels him smile against the 
swell of her breast, and sighs when she feels his sleep come.

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"Hey."  Mulder's eyes open slowly and she's good for her word. 
She's watching him, threading her fingers through his hair, looking 
serious, but deeply happy, too. He thinks he's achieved at least one 
point in his favor on the cosmic scoreboard. He also thinks that any 
chance he has at all to keep score, to give a damn, is due 
exclusively to the fact of her in his life. Right now, both things 
please him.  "Anything you'd like to share with the class?"

This get a chuckle from her, "It's a little late 
for an interrogation...I just couldn't sleep."

"I think I'm the one who's supposed to say that." He rolls off her, 
but then pulls her over so that they're face to face. He slips an 
arm under his head and she mirrors him.   "You better tell 
me now before I sic my partner on you."

This gets a full, throaty laugh, "You win, I hear she's 
a fierce one. Well, if you must know, I was thinking about 
opportunities...lost and found."

He feels his heart stutter for a moment. Even though in the deepest 
way, he knows it's all good, that she's his, there's that one part 
of his dazzling, eidetic dura matter that only recognizes the words 
'opportunities' and 'lost.'  He wishes he had the usual kind 
of faith, but what he has is her and he has to ground himself 
in her eyes before asking,  "And your conclusion?"

She caught the split second when his face almost collapsed, and the 
swell of love for him tightens her throat, roughens her voice,  
"I was thinking about the life I thought I'd have 
and the one I do."

She caught the split second when his face almost collapsed, 
and the swell of love for him tightens her throat, roughens 
her voice,  "I was thinking about the life I thought I'd have 
and the one I do."

He forges ahead, stepping out on some belief in her, in them. 
He realizes that he has no idea where it came from except 
from seven years of devotion and hearing tonight, 'Graim thu.'  
"So tell me."

She smiles because she knows this is the good part,  "I realized 
that I'd lost the chance for the kind of life I'd always wanted.   
Security.  Stability."  She took a deep breath,  "Children.   
Lost it and believed for a long time that was it."   
Her eyes glitter with unshed tears, and she stops him from 
putting his fingers across her lips.  "But I found the courage 
to want something else, the courage to see that I had another 
life and that together, we could have something wonderful.  
I miss what chances I lost, but I have joy in my life 
because of what is."  She keeps gazing into his eyes, 
and lets some bravado into her voice now,  "You make me 
happy Mulder, you're just gonna have to live with it."  
Judging by his wide eyes and the grin about to split
his face, she's satisfied her words have hit their mark.

He tries, unsuccessfully, to pull out his serious face 
from his usual bag of tricks,  "What about when we're back 
at work, slugging through one more hopelessly boring 
background check?  Worse yet, what about if we get 
the X-Files back...."

She cuts in, trying to match his seriousness, failing miserably, 
"...when we get the X-Files back and you're grating on my last 
nerve with some arcane explanation of some bizarre occurrence 
in the middle of Bumblefuck?

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'brilliantly cutting to 
the heart of yet another dark mystery.' "  His eyes flutter shut 
as she leans into him and begins to nuzzle his jaw, kiss the smooth 
spot just under his chin. He feels the blood rushing south, 
"Better yet, just tell me how I'm ever gonna get used to this."
"Practice, Mulder, practice."  Scully stops what she's doing 
and pulls him on top of her.

"I guess that means conversation's over."  He picks up where she 
left off, and the only sound in the room is the two of them 
laughing.

(End/Chapter 3/3)


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