From: Margi Kleinjan Subject: Columns Title: Columns Author: Moni Rating: NC17 Classification: SR Spoilers: None Keywords: Mulder/Scully Summary: Something goes bump in the night. Disclaimer: They're not mine & sorry for using 'em Notes: Thanks to Margi for editing this for me. Where would I be without you, hey? Feedback: c/o Margi @ please xxx Columns by Moni xxx Things go into two columns. Good and Bad. Even things which have two sides fit into one column if you focus hard enough. Creaking floorboards are Bad. Creak. I open my eyes. When you hear a noise in the night, your initial instinct from childhood tells you to hide under the duvet, as though that will save you from your mysterious predator. Creeeeak. When you hear the noise again, you cover your ears, so whatever is in your house can reach you without you knowing, and at least it will be over quickly. Creeeeeak. By the time the noise has happened the third time, you either hide in the wardrobe, or get your gun. The slick black metal glints in the streetlight from my window. I listen carefully but there is no more noise. I'm half asleep. I convince myself I imagined the noises, and settle back down in my bed. Drifting back to sleep. Drifting... drifting... drifting... Creeeeeeeeeeeeeakk. No more nonsense. I'm wide awake and there's something in my apartment. Sweat appears in tiny beads in the palms of my hands, and the gun feels sticky. "Who's there?" I shout, sounding stupidly brave. I go from feeling stupidly brave to just stupid when I realise there will be no answer. I climb out of bed, hoping it was the wind or a rat or something harmless. "Who's there?" I shout louder, my head against the door, listening for any noises. My hand slowly and carefully reaches out for the cold and shiny silver doorknob. As my fingers close around it, there is another noise. The sound of a gunshot. I snatch the door open and look through into the darkness. "Who's there?" Third time's a charm. "Scully." A greeting, not an answer. "Mulder what are you doing here? How did you get in?" I can feel my voice getting more and more high pitched as I try to make sense of the situation in my mind. He switches on the lamp and there is somebody else in the room. Somebody distinctly dead and lying on their front. "I didn't mean to wake you. I followed him here." Mulder kicks the body over and it is Krycek. His eyes are staring and wild, and blood is leaking in a perfect ruby trail down the corner of his mouth. There is blood on my carpet. "I don't know why he was coming here. I didn't have time to ask." "He's dead." I say, for some reason. I don't know whether this is Good or Bad, or neither, but I think I am in shock. Probably because of the carpet, more than anything. I put down my gun and sit down on my sofa, looking down at the lifeless Krycek by my feet. "We should probably get him to a morgue." I say. I don't want to autopsy him. I don't see why he needs to be autopsied. I poke him with my bare toe. His outdoor coat is cold and covered in raindrops. It reminds me of my mother when she picked me up from school when I was very young and sick. "Are you okay, Scully?" "Fine." I say. Mulder has chosen a bad lamp to switch on. The bulb is far too bright and the shade is far too thin. I rub my forehead and close my eyes. I feel the sofa move slightly as he sits beside me. I suddenly feel self conscious that I am only in my nightclothes. I make an effort to pull my shorts down my thigh a bit further, and I squeeze my knees together. "Are you sure?" His fingers graze my arm and I open my eyes once more. This seems as though it's going to become a hugging moment, which is going to be awkward, I decide. Droplets from Krycek's coat slide down his one arm and onto my toe. I focus on this and not on Mulder, whose eyes are scanning me closely. I weakly and tiredly lean on Mulder. At times, I feel like I'm half his size. Sometimes this is Good and sometimes it's Bad. It's Bad when we are working and people listen to him. The man. The tall one. But when I need to be comforted without having to explain myself, and Mulder is there, then it's Good. Sometimes it's Too Good. There is a separate column in the back of my mind for Too Good. It feels Too Good to have his arms around me as I lean on him. Too Good. I think I'm about to fall asleep, but then the strangest thing happens. There is a hand on my breast. Not moving, not caressing, but definitely there. My eyes snap open as the lines of flame shoot to my crotch. I look down. The hand is still there. Good, I hadn't imagined it. Second problem: What is it doing there? I look up at Mulder's face. His expression is more blank than normal, his eyes closed. And just as I have accepted the fact of his extreme closeness, he starts to move his thumb. Brushing up and down and around and around my nipple. "Mulder." I say, sleep-weary. His one hand is doing things to my body which no man has done for the longest time, but in my voice I hear the tones which mean I am asking him to stop. He doesn't stop. Rape, I think casually, running my toe along Krycek's jacket. "Mulder." I say again, and he opens his eyes and looks at me. Even before I know what I'm doing, his eyes have forced my lips apart and we are kissing. His nose is in my way and I tilt my head. His coat feels like Krycek's, but my mother is the last thing on my mind. I am about to get laid. Not an amazing thing in itself, but the very fact of it, and the events which were leading up to it are almost surreal. I hate that I am too practical. Even with his hands exploring my body and his tongue duelling with my own, I am wondering if he has protection. I am thinking about the fact that my front door is still open, and I'm wondering how we will speak to each other when we wake up. These are Good, sensible things to be thinking about. I want to be Bad. "I have to close my front door." I say. I then remember that I'm still in shock. Or maybe that's an excuse. "Okay." Mulder says simply. I click the door shut and lock the chains, the bolt, and the Yale. When I turn, Mulder is inspecting the body. I don't feel like being seductive. I don't think it would work on Mulder. When he looks up, I am by my bedroom door. I have already considered the best place to do it. I have thought about whether my linen is clean, and if my legs are shaven. I have weighed all this up while I was locking the door. Mulder is walking towards me. Fear overtakes me and I slide backwards into my dark bedroom. Mulder is in my bedroom. I realise I am actually worrying what Mulder will think of my interior decor. I am on the bed. The sheets have cooled since I was last lying in them, which is comforting. I hope they don't smell but I'm too afraid to sniff them in case they do. I wish I was calmer. Panic in this situation is Bad. Mulder knows exactly what he is doing. It strikes me that he probably does this a lot. Well, not the following stalkers to women's apartments and then shooting them part, but I could barely remember the last time I had had sex, and here was Mulder, just doing what came naturally. His lips are on my neck. This is perfection. This is right smack damn in the middle of the Good column. While he kisses the neckline of my baggy t-shirt, his hands are sliding up underneath it. His hands are cool and large, and I feel nervous and clammy in comparison. In a quick movement which I didn't notice until it was over, he pulls my t-shirt over my head and discarded it somewhere. I try my hardest, but I can't help but hope it won't get too creased or dirty or.... This thought vanishes immediately as soon as I realise I am thinking it. I concentrate on Mulder. He has removed his coat somewhere along the way, but his t-shirt is also damp with rain water. I pull at it while he kisses me some more. Initiative. That's what I need to show. I stop treating this like it's something I'm watching in some low budget Saturday night movie, and begin to kiss him back. More passion, and more soul and more heat. His erection is throbbing against me, and it stirs something within me which feels Animal. As I fling my leg astride him and flip over so I am on top of him, I decide to create a fourth column, which rates higher than Too Good. Animal. This is Animal. I lick his lower lip slowly. I lick my way down his body, right the way down to the waistline of his trousers, where I pause and unbuckle his belt, never once losing eye contact. I unzip his fly with my teeth, which I admit is something I have never done before. Through the silky material that I meet under his trousers, a bulging erection is starting to find its way free. I grin, which feels weird. I turn around and sit across his belly, my ass in his face. I lean right the way forwards so that my breasts brush against him, and I remove his boxers, and then he is finally naked. I begin to kiss his erection, without actually taking him in my mouth. I run my tongue up and down the length of him, and I feel him start to tug at my own shorts. I ignore this; I'm having too much fun being in control. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, Mulder has other ideas. In all the years I've known him, he has never been forceful with me. He has never struck me, or shoved me, or even so much as get really angry with me. Or at least, not what *I* consider to be angry. But now he is grabbing my waist and pulling me away, back over onto the other side of the bed, and pulling my shorts off, and pressing his lips against my hot skin with a fevered need for more. This is it. Girl meets boy, girl gets naked with boy. The time old story, and I'm living it out. I reach down for his erection and guide him into me. Neither of us have uttered a word since I told him I should shut the front door, but now he is saying my name. "Scully." He says, and he waits just one moment. We are both lying still. Ready. Animal. "Dana." I correct him, and his hips begin to move. At first I feel relatively nothing, but after the first few seconds, I am feeling everything. Thrust, thrust, thrust. Each thrust just one thrust closer. My hands are on his ass and that feels just fine. My hips rise to meet him every time, and I press him closer and closer. I'm sure I'm leaving finger prints in his buttocks. My eyes are tightly closed. I can't keep them open while his face is above mine. I am ready. I am shaking uncontrollably and one more thrust... one more... I hear my breaths in the back of my throat, I feel the blood rushing from my feet, my thighs clenching, my heart thumping, and Mulder... "Muuuuuulllllldeeeeeer...." The second I come I open my eyes wide and see Mulder pump in one more time before he feels his own orgasm, and I see the look on his face. Good. I can't move. I mean, despite the fact Mulder is lying on top of me; even if he wasn't, I wouldn't be able to move. My knees are still trembling. Everything is wet. Mulder's face is resting in my neck, just the feel of his breath against my skin. When I wake up the next morning, we are still lying there, although Mulder has withdrawn from me and I am under a blanket. He is telling me that he loves me. I scrap the rule of just two columns and place this in the Spooky column. And then, before I'm even fully awake, his hands are roaming. This is going to be a busy day. Not entirely unpleasant, but certainly busy. xxx The End xxx