"Wine" by Dianora  *NC-17*  1/1

This is my first posting to the Newsgroup, so I ask that you be 
gentle with me. :)   This is a Mulder/Scully 
romance, rated NC-17 for sex, so if you're not interested 
in that sort of thing, don't bother with this little vignette.  
A quick note:  you will notice 
that in this piece the characters do not practice safe sex.  While 
I am a huge proponent of safe sex and appreciate it when it is 
portrayed realistically in fiction, my policy here is, I'm already 
working within a fantasy world in this piece, since Mulder and 
Scully actually get together, so in this fantasy world there are 
no sexually transmitted diseases!  It's my  own little reality, okay?

If you like what you read,
let me know at Dianora2@aol.com.  This is a continuing series.

As always, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the property of 
Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions.  I'm using them 
without permission and no copyright infringement or offense is 
intended.  I don't know who *The Amazing Colossal Man* 
belongs to, but it's not me, and I apologize for borrowing him.

*Warning*:  Somewhat graphic depictions of sexual activity follow.  
Minors and those easily offended please stay away.



     "This is the best part!"  Mulder slurped his pork lo mein and 
grabbed the remote, pumping up the volume.
     "Mulder..."  Scully sighed.  As she watched the TV screen, 
*The Amazing Colossal Man* hurled the hypodermic needle like 
a syringe at the well-meaning surgeon, impaling him on the length 
of thin steel.  Mulder burst into laughter, nodding his head 
enthusiastically.  Scully rolled her eyes.  "That was just great, 
Mulder.  Just...great.  You realize this movie defies every law of 
physics."
     "Scully, it's a *movie*.  You really need a better appreciation 
of the finer things in life.  Are you gonna finish that?" he asked, 
stabbing the air with his chopsticks in the direction of her beef 
with broccoli.
     "No, go ahead."  She pushed the plate toward him and watched 
as he consumed the rest of her food like a starving man.  I wonder 
where he puts it all, she mused, admiring his lean physique.  She 
stretched out on the couch and marveled for the hundredth time at 
how unbelievably messy his place was.  Old newspapers littered 
the dull grey carpet where dirty clothes weren't already taking up 
space.  Here and there was a dirty dish, and peeking out from 
under a raggedy towel she saw what looked suspiciously like 
some sort of porno magazine.  I don't even want to know, she 
thought.  She grabbed the remote from the table and pressed 
pause, eager for a distraction.  "Hey Mulder, you got anything 
to drink around here?"
     "Why Agent Scully, are you trying to get me drunk?" he 
asked dryly, then cracked a grin.  "Well, it's entirely possible
mI have something lying around..."
     "Lying around would probably be accurate."
     "Sorry.  It's the maid's year off."  He rose from the couch 
and loped over to the kitchen area, opening and closing cabinets.  
From where she was sitting Dana could see that most of them 
were pretty much empty.  "Aha!"  He held up a bottle of burgundy.  
"Will this do?"
     "Sure."  She watched with amusement as he hunted for two 
clean glasses.  "Mulder, your kitchen is a case for the X-Files."
     "You're just full of the witticisms tonight, aren't you, Scully," 
he mumbled.  "You should be on TV.  You should be on Letterman."
     She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling.
     His search for clean receptacles over, he sat back down on the 
couch next to her and filled their glasses, then handed one to her.  
"Do you want to make a toast?"
     She thought for a moment.  "To...the truth?"
     He nodded solemnly, but his eyes were dancing.  "To the truth."
     Scully drank, not taking her eyes from his face.  She enjoyed 
being with him like this, when they weren't under pressure from a 
case, when they weren't risking their lives out in the middle of 
god-knows-where, on the trail of god-knows-what.  She had 
discovered that Mulder was at his most endearing when he wasn't 
on a self-driven mission, when he wasn't searching for E.B.E.s, 
when he was just hanging out, watching bad movies and drinking...
whew, *strong* wine.  She choked a little as her throat burned.  
"This is deadly stuff, Mulder."
     "Nothing but the best for my Scully," he deadpanned, knocking 
it back, savoring the warmth spreading through his belly.  
"So, are you ready for more exploits from *The Amazing 
Colossal Man*?"
     "That's going to take a little more wine," she smiled, reaching 
for the bottle.


     Hours later, the TV was silent, empty plates scattered across the 
table in front of them.  Scully had lost track of how many glasses 
of wine she had downed and Mulder was becoming increasingly 
more amused at the way he could practically see her defenses 
lowering, inhibitions loosening.  Time to have some fun, he thought 
deviously.  "So tell me about your first love, Scully."
     She started out of a semi-drunken reverie about John F. Kennedy 
Jr., nearly spilling her wine.  "Why?"
     "Why not?  I'm interested.  I want to know about the first man 
to capture the heart of Dana Katherine Scully."  He smiled as her 
brows knit, considering the challenge.  Teasing her was impossible 
to resist.  "Come on, Scully, who was the first man to light 
your fire?"
     "Peter Carroll," she said finally, letting out a sigh.  "College, 
freshman year.  On paper, he was perfect.  Dean's List, 
basketball team, pre-med, just like me."
     "You played basketball?"
     She shot him a withering look.  "You know what I mean.  
Anyway, we started dating, and then it got really serious.  
He was...he was my first."
     "This is starting to get interesting."
     She didn't rise to the bait.  "I loved him, Mulder.  I loved him so 
hard it hurt.  And then, one day, he decided he was done with me.  
Just like that."
     "Come on, Scully, there must have been more to it than that."
     She closed her eyes, lips parted slightly.  "No.  No, there really 
wasn't."  Her mind wandered for a moment, remembering, Peter's 
chiseled face materializing before her.  *The ride's over babe.  It was 
fun while it lasted, but there's a whole world out there.  Why don't 
you go see for yourself?*  She tried to shake loose of the memory, 
but everything was so hazy, so thick.  Her head felt like it weighed 
a ton.  "Mulder?"
     "Yeah."
     "Mulder, I think I'm...I'm drunk."
     He smiled into his wine glass at the unsteadiness of her voice.  
"I'd have to agree with that diagnosis, doctor."  He was feeling quite 
lightheaded himself.  He had forgotten just how strong this particular 
brand of wine was, and the bottle he had opened a couple hours earlier 
was now almost empty.  Dana was lounging on the couch, one hand 
holding the wine glass, the other absentmindedly playing with a strand 
of auburn hair.  Her feet were propped in his lap, her sneakers on the 
floor beside her. "But you haven't finished your story."  He looked 
down, fought a suddenly overwhelming urge to massage her feet.  
He blinked at them for a moment, then looked back up at her face.
     "Oh.  Well...there's not much more to tell.  He just stopped calling."  
She winced at the memory and drained her glass to deaden the 
unwelcome feelings it stirred up.  *See ya, Dana.  Have a nice life.*  
     "That's sad."
     She shot him a dirty look.  "Thanks."
    "You want me to beat him up?"  
     She paused, shocked, then started giggling at the image.  
"Yeah, Mulder.  He lives in L.A., I think.  Go get him for me.  
Right now."  She tried to stop giggling, but couldn't.  The wine had 
officially taken control, and the room was swimming, but if felt so 
damn good.  And God help her if Mulder wasn't looking downright 
adorable, his face alight with amusement.
    "I'll do it Scully."  He pushed her feet off his lap and got up, 
headed for the door.  "I will avenge you.  I'll fuck that bastard up 
good!"  He tried to keep a straight face, but her giggling got to him, 
and he burst into laughter.  "How big is this guy?" he finally managed.
     "Bigger, bigger than you," she gasped between laughs, her face 
turning red.
     "Bigger than *me*?  Seriously?"  He paused for a moment, 
considering.  "Aww, who cares?  I'm the FBI!  I'll kick his ass!  
I know how to kill a man using only two fingers!"  He fell down 
next to her on the couch, his face close to hers, her wine glass 
between them like a barrier.  He stopped laughing abruptly.  He 
just watched as she continued to giggle, holding her hand over her 
mouth, her eyes sparkling like he had never seen before.  Or just 
never noticed before.  I hope this is just the wine, he thought.  
"Dana?"
     She tried to get herself under her control.  "Yes?"  And then she 
let out a hiccup.
     They both fell into hysterics, Scully continuing to hiccup 
loudly.  "Mulder, help - hic - me!"  
     "Hold your breath and say three Hail Marys."  She took a deep 
breath and held it, her cheeks ballooning.  "Or better yet, I'll scare 
you.  I'll go into the other room and come back when you least 
expect it!  They don't call me 'Spooky' for nothing, you know."  
He started to get up, but she pulled him back down. 
     "Don't," she said, letting out her breath.  "I hate being scared."  
She paused.  "Wait, I think they're gone."  Silence.  She hiccuped 
again, and laughed.
     He laughed too as an idea formed.  "Hey, Scully."  She 
continued to laugh, caught up in the haze of alcohol and giddiness. 
 "Scully!"  He took her face in his hands.
     Her laughter subsided.   "What is it?" she asked, letting out a 
soft, baby hiccup for punctuation.  He was so close, and she could 
smell the wine on his breath, smell his sweat, see the sudden 
determination in his hazel eyes.  She held her breath for a moment.
     "I think I know a way to stop your hiccups."  He leaned in and 
pressed his lips against hers, softly, questioning.  At first she 
didn't respond, couldn't, as she forced her brain to wrap itself 
around what was happening.  And then, her body did the thinking 
for her, as she slipped her arms around his neck and returned 
the kiss fully, slipping her tongue into his mouth and tasting 
the tang of the wine.  The kiss grew more passionate, urgent, 
until they were both breathing hard, clutching each other fiercely.  
He broke off suddenly.
     "I'm sorry, that was way out of line, I shouldn't have done 
that," he said in a rush, not looking at her, not daring to touch her.  
     "Mulder, I..." she didn't know what to think, what to say.  
"Mulder..."  She did the only thing she could do.  She reached 
out to him, pulled him back into her embrace, and kissed him, 
hard.  He buried his fingers in her hair, then kissed her forehead, 
her eyes, the tip of her nose.  "You know what?" she whispered.
     He didn't pause in his trail of kisses, moving down to her ear, 
her neck.  "What?"
     "I think my hiccups are definitely gone."  She sighed as he 
nuzzled the spot where her neck met her shoulder.  "Most 
definitely."  She methodically began unbuttoning his denim 
shirt.  He pulled back a little, surprised, his eyes searching hers.
     "Are you sure this isn't just the wine?" he asked, breathless.
     "Mulder, at this point I don't give a damn."  She finished 
with the buttons and pushed the shirt open, sliding it down his 
arms, then ran her fingers over his bare chest.  "I want you 
Mulder. God, it's been so long for me..."
     He felt himself harden at her words, at the desire fairly 
shimmering off of her. Thrusting all rational thought aside, 
he kissed her roughly, pulling her sweatshirt up over her 
head and caressing her breasts, then carefully removing her 
bra. He rained kisses on her, taking each nipple in his mouth 
one at a time and sucking fiercely.  She arched her back and 
pulled him closer to her, then reached to undo his belt, then 
his jeans.  He knew he should stop, knew what they were 
doing was wrong, but didn't care anymore.  All he knew 
was that he wanted this woman beneath him, wanted her 
more than he had ever wanted anyone.  Wanted her for 
more than just her body, wanted her for her mind, her 
soul.  She let out a gasp as he slipped a hand inside her 
sweatpants, probing, searching.
     "Mulder, if you don't make love to me right now, 
I'm going to scream," she breathed, frantically pushing 
down his pants, at the same time trying to wriggle out 
of her own.  
     He laughed.  "Give me a second..."  He impatiently 
got up and stepped out of his pants, then pulled hers the 
rest of the way off and threw them behind him.  He eased 
himself down on top of her, his eyes boring into hers.
     "Mulder, *now*..."  She gasped as he slipped inside 
her and began moving slowly.  She clasped his head in 
her hands, bit his lower lip.  "Oh God, Mulder."	
     "Dana."  He moved faster, twining his fingers in 
her hair and pulling her head back to expose the ivory 
curve of her neck.  He ran his tongue up and down that 
sweet skin, biting, licking, as he drove deeper into her. 
"Jesus, Dana."	
     "Don't stop, don't stop," she whispered so he could 
barely hear her.  She tilted her hips so that he went in 
deeper, as deep as he could go, slamming her into the 
edge of the couch.  "Faster, Mulder."  Her voice was 
getting steadily louder, and his excitement grew every 
time she opened her mouth.  "Oh God..."  She tensed, 
then let out a series of cries as she slipped over the edge, 
shaking, contracting around him.  He tried to hold out 
longer but couldn't, and his cries joined hers as he climaxed 
as well.  
     When it was over, he collapsed on top of her, wrapping 
his arms around her slim waist and holding tight.  He 
tenderly kissed one breast as she ran her fingers through his 
hair, holding him like a child.  "Mulder..."	
     "Mmm."  He lifted his head so his eyes were level with 
hers.
     "I've never been that loud before," she groaned.  "I 
feel like I should apologize."
     He laughed softly, intimately, and it nearly took her 
breath away.  "Apologizing is the last thing you should 
be doing."
     "Really?" she asked, unsure.
     He shifted so that they were almost lying side by side 
on the narrow couch and cupped her face in his hands.  
"Are you kidding?  That was a huge turn-on.  You were 
driving me crazy."
     "Really."  This time it was a statement, not a question, 
and there was seduction lurking in her voice.  She twirled 
a lock of his hair with her fingers.  "Mulder..."
     "Mmm."  He was back to kissing her breast, finding it 
impossible to stop touching her, kissing her everywhere.
     "Don't you have a bed?"
     "Of course I have a bed, Scully.  I just never sleep there."	
     "Sleep is not what I had in mind."


The End.  Wine 2 will be posted soon. :)


"Wine Part Deux: The Hangover"  by Dianora  *NC-17*

This is very short, very flip, and the end is a little explicit, so 
stay away if women receiving pleasure isn't your cup of tea.  
By the way, this is *not* what I think would really happen if 
Mulder and Scully were to do the horizontal tango.  This is just 
a little what if....  Any comments, send to Dianora2@aol.com

Usual stuff: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully and the mentioned but not 
seen Melissa Scully are properties of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions, and FOX.  No copyright infringement or offense is intended.


Wine Part Deux
The Hangover


Dana Scully woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open, brain 
not quite functioning right away.  Her first conscious thought 
was that she was naked, and she knew that was odd because 
she always wore at least a t-shirt and underwear to bed.  Then 
she realized the room smelled funny, tangy, with an undercurrent 
of dirty socks.  Then she turned her head an inch to the left and 
saw Fox Mulder lying there in bed beside her, sleeping like a 
baby for once.  A disgusting trickle of drool traveled from his 
mouth to the pillow.

Her eyes widened as the previous night came crashing down 
on her in a heart-stopping flash.  Oh.  My.  God.  Shit, shit, shit.  
She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him, 
scrambled into a raggedy robe she found lying on the floor, 
and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.  She 
studied her pale reflection in the mirror with disgust.  Then 
the headache hit.  She sank down onto the toilet lid and buried 
her face in her hands, willing the throbbing in her skull to cease.  
No such luck.  

Okay, calm down.  Think this through.  I had sex with Fox 
Mulder last night, she thought, willing her mind to examine 
the facts objectively, as if she were investigating a case.  No, 
that is not entirely true.  I had sex with Fox Mulder many times 
last night, on many different surfaces.  She had trouble remembering 
exactly how many times they had created the two-backed monster.  
Three?  Four?  Dear God, it couldn't have been five, could it?  Okay, 
let's get back on track, Dana.  What else.  I have touched and for 
the most part tasted every inch of my partner's body, and vice versa.  
We did things together last night that must be illegal in at least half of 
the states in the Union.  We debased and degraded ourselves, reduced 
ourselves to mindless animals, and enjoyed every minute of it.  She 
gradually realized the pain she was feeling was not confined to her head; 
her thighs, legs, arms, jaw, and between her legs were all sore as well.  
She took a few minutes to examine herself and discovered hickies in 
places she didn't think it was possible to get them.   What the hell was 
she going to do now?

"Scully?  Are you okay in there?"  Mulder's voice on the other side of 
the door startled her.  Damn him for being a light sleeper.

"Umm, I'm fine," she said, as perkily as she could manage 
considering the jackhammer cracking open her cerebellum.  
What was that hangover remedy Melissa had told her about 
once?  Tomato juice and Pepto Bismol?  Her stomach churned 
at the thought.  Maybe just some aspirin, she reconsidered.  
"I'll be there in a minute."  She went to the bathroom, splashed 
some water on her face, then rooted around in Mulder's medicine 
cabinet and took his last two Tylenol caplets.  A few deep breaths, 
and she opened the door.  I have faced psychopaths, serial killers, 
and prehistoric green bugs.  I can do this.

She found him navigating the kitchen, turning on the burner under 
the kettle and searching for clean dishes.  He was *whistling*.  
Whistling a thin tune that cut through her brain like a red hot poker.  
He smiled warmly when he saw her.  "Want some coffee?"

She nodded.  The movement hurt her head.  Naturally.  She sat 
down on the couch and closed her eyes, mind racing frantically 
for something to get her out of this mess.  He brought her a 
steaming mug of instant coffee, which she accepted gratefully, 
careful not to touch his fingers.  The couch creaked as he sat 
own next to her.  "How are you feeling this morning?"

She glared at him.  "I hurt.  Everywhere."
  
He grinned.  "But I bet your head hurts most of all, doesn't it?"  
She didn't respond, just took a tentative sip of the coffee.  
Suddenly she felt his lips press a gentle kiss on her neck.  She 
jumped up without thinking, spilling coffee on her hand in the process.  
"DAMMIT!" She raced to the kitchen sink and ran her hand under 
the cold water, cursing fluently, using many of the wonderful 
adjectives she had picked up from her father's Navy buddies.    

"Uh, Scully?  Is there a problem?"

She turned around to see him standing in front of her, a 
bewildered look on his face, and she wished to God he didn't 
look so cute, standing there in nothing but his plaid boxers.
  
"Yes, Mulder, there is a problem.  Or have you forgotten that 
we slept together last night?"

"Well, as I recall, there wasn't all that much sleeping involved."  
She threw a dishrag at him, but he ducked.  Damn.

"This is not funny!  What are we supposed to do now?"

He hitched up his boxers, smiling devilishly.  "Well, we could 
do it again."

She closed her eyes for a minute, counted to ten, and willed herself 
not to commit homicide.  "That's.  Not.  What.  I.  Meant.  I mean, 
what are we supposed to do about our partnership, our friendship, 
our jobs, everything?"  Her voice got steadily higher until it cracked 
on the last word.  He winced.

"I seem to remember bringing up something like that last night, but 
you were too busy pulling down my pants," he retorted.  "Don't 
even think about putting this all on me.  You seduced me!"

"You kissed me first!"

"You wanted me to!"

"You're a pig!"

"You're a cheap date!  Is that all it takes, Scully, one bottle of 
wine and a bad movie?"

"AAARRRGGGHH!"  She reached to grab a dirty dish from 
the sink so she could throw it at him, and really hit him this time, 
but he caught her wrist.

"Why are we fighting about this?" he asked softly, his face 
inches from hers.  "We both wanted last night to happen.  You 
were there.  I remember."

She smiled a little at that, although a petty part of her resented 
him for being right.  "I hope we didn't disturb your neighbors."

"I hope we did."

"Mulder...seriously, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he said quietly.  "Do the only thing we can do.  
Take it one day at a time, the way we always have.  Let's just...
not make a big deal out of it, at least for now.  Let's just see what 
happens, take it from there."

She scowled at him.  "You make it sound so easy.  As if we 
haven't just turned a major corner in our lives."

"Dana..."  He gripped her shoulders gently.  "Of course we have.  
Last night...last night was like the inevitable finally happening.  
As if what we had been moving toward the past two years finally 
came together, no pun intended.  And it was incredible."

"Well...yeah, it wasn't bad."  No need for him to get cocky.

"Look, the way our lives are right now, we don't know what's 
going to happen tomorrow.  Let's just enjoy what we have, right 
now, this minute."  He slowly undid the tie on her robe, pushed 
it open, slid his hands inside.  She gasped at the feel of his hands 
on her bare skin as they caressed her hips, her breasts.  She could 
only watch, mesmerized, as he slowly knelt before her and trailed 
small kisses along her belly, her thighs.  Guess I can't argue with 
that logic, she thought.  At least, not at the moment.

She struggled to remain still, to not twitch with anticipation.  
Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore.  "Do it," she hissed.  
He laughed softly, a deep, husky laugh that gave her goosebumps.  
She felt his hot breath between her legs, then the sensation of his 
tongue as he began kissing her there.

Dana closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the sink as her 
knees weakened.  He licked and sucked at her until she let out 
a low moan, burying her fingers in his hair, grinding herself 
against his mouth, wanting more.  For long moments the only 
sounds in the room were his tongue working and her heavy breathing.  
And as the tidal wave crested and she erupted in a mind-shattering 
orgasm, her single coherent thought was, Why not?  It beats the hell 
out of the vibrator waiting for me at home. 


The End.  You can imagine the rest.

"Wine 3: Bordeaux" by Dianora  *NC17*  1/1
Finished 12/27/95

Well, now I've gone and done it, another installment of "Wine."  
I had no intention of writing another after "The Hangover," but 
certain people were very persistent with me.  They know who 
they are. :)  So, I caved, and I hope everyone enjoys the result.  
Like "The Hangover," this is short, kind of tongue-in-cheek, and 
hopefully sexy too.  The premise is fairly ridiculous, but who 
cares, really?   Thanks to MD1016 who helped me flesh out the 
idea, whether she realized she was doing it at the time or not. :)  
Comments can be sent to Dianora2@aol.com

Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are properties of Chris Carter, Ten 
Thirteen Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.  I'm borrowing them 
with no permission whatsoever, and intend no copyright infringement 
or offense.  Is anyone even reading this paragraph?


"Wine 3: Bordeaux"
by Dianora


"Hey, Scully, some of the VC boys upstairs chipped in and bought 
you a Christmas present."

Dana Scully raised her eyes from the report she was reading to watch 
Fox Mulder place a bottle of Bordeaux on the desk before her.  "Oh, 
they shouldn't have," she said caustically.  She and most of the guys 
in VC had a hate/hate relationship, similar to their relationship with 
Mulder, but based on even less respect, since she was a woman and 
they were a bunch of pigs.  She couldn't believe they had gotten her a 
gift, no matter how trite or impersonal.  There must be some ulterior 
motive for her to uncover, and when she did...she shuddered.  The 
bottle of red wine did bring back pleasant memories, though, and she 
looked Mulder up and down appreciatively, lost in erotic rememberance.  
Then a horrific thought occurred to her.  "Mulder, you didn't tell them 
that I...that we..."

"Calm down, Scully.  Your Virgin Queen reputation is still intact."  
He was rewarded with a stony glare.  Sometimes, he reflected, getting 
her all riled up was almost too easy.

"Well, thanks.  I think," she grumbled.  She studied the label on the 
bottle.  "Want to crack this open?"

He eyed her warily, glancing at the clock first.  "Scully, it's 1:00 in 
the afternoon."

"I just want a taste, to see if it's any good.  Besides, it's our last day 
in the office before Christmas.  Let's try to have a *little* bit of 
Christmas spirit."  Their single concession to the holiday was a lone 
candy cane hanging from the inside doorknob.  And it was already 
broken into pieces inside the cellophane.  Ho ho ho.

"I'll get the coffee mugs," Mulder said casually, hoping he knew 
where this was headed.  The afternoon certainly was looking up...

A couple of mugs later, and they were both feeling very relaxed and 
a little woozy.  "Well, I gotta give those assholes upstairs some 
credit," Scully said, only slurring her words a little.  "They know 
their wine."

"Their only redeeming feature," Mulder murmured.  His hazel eyes 
gleamed at her hungrily as other body parts stirred to attention.  
"You know, Scully, this reminds me of that night..."

"Gee, Mulder, *what* night?" she asked sarcastically.  Well, she 
thought to herself bemusedly, doesn't alcohol turn *me* into a total 
bitch?  Not to mention a horny one...she could barely sit still.  
Anyway, he deserved her venom for saying something so banal.

He refused to rise to her bait, however.  "Maybe I can refresh 
your memory," he said suggestively.  His hand slipped under 
the desk and began to creep up her thigh, under her skirt.

She was instantly aflame with desire, making the crotch of her 
panties wet.  It was insanity, the physical effect he had on her.  
Sometimes she hated herself for it.  "Mulder, we're at work," she 
said, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady.

"So?"  He leaned in close, and she could smell the wine on his 
breath.  "I want you, Dana," he whispered.  "Right here.  Right 
now.  And I'm going to have you."

She fanned herself with her hand.  When had maintenance turned 
up the heat in the building?  Didn't these people realize they were 
in the South?  She was sweltering.  "Mulder, what about the security 
camera?" she whispered back, gesturing with her chin to the camera 
nestled in one corner of the ceiling.  "What about the possibility that 
this office is bugged?"

He pulled back a little, brows knit, considering.  It was so annoying 
when he knew she was right.  Suddenly a light bulb lit up over his 
head.  "I have an idea," he mouthed.  He walked to the corner of the 
office, gesturing for her to follow, and stopped right underneath the 
security camera, so that he was squeezed into a small niche between 
the wall and a file cabinet.  

Wobbling a little as she did so, she joined him there.  "What are 
you doing?"

"Camera doesn't reach this corner," he whispered, pushing her up 
against the wall and sliding his hands up her skirt again.  

Scully opened her mouth to protest, but all coherent thought left 
her as Mulder started biting at her neck like an aroused vampire.  
She let out a low moan and clawed at his belt, whipping it out of 
the loopholes and tossing it aside.  He pulled down her pantyhose 
and knelt before her briefly, to impatiently slip the hose off her feet 
and throw them to the side, then do the same with her lacy panties.  
When he stood back up, Dana undid the button on his pants, slid 
down the zipper and pulled out his cock, his delicious, hard, cock, 
and stroked it eagerly.

"Tell me you want it," he whispered in her ear.

"I want you in me," she hissed.  "God, Mulder, *now*...unh..." 
she trailed off as he slowly slipped inside of her, grabbing her 
hips and propping her up against the wall firmly, then beginning 
to thrust into her with a talent she regretted taking so long to 
discover.  She tangled her fingers in his hair, and he gasped in 
pain as she pulled just a little too hard.  They tried to stay quiet, 
to keep any noise at all to an absolute minimun, their paranoia in 
full force.  It was not easy.  It became almost a game to them, as 
they maintained eye contact, as he continued to thrust deeper 
into her, to each be quieter than the other, to not let their escalating 
passion get the better of them.  

Wanting, needing more of her, Mulder deftly unbuttoned Scully's 
blouse and unhooked her bra, then began sucking and teasing at 
her breasts, nibbling at the nipples, squeezing her soft flesh between 
his palms.  Lost in the ecstasy of it all, she let out an almost inhuman 
yelp, and panic surfaced in her eyes.  "Paper cut," she said loudly, 
for the benefit of God-knew-who, complimenting herself on a 
smooth recovery.

Mulder's eyes twinkled as he thrust into her, hard, and she bit 
down on another cry.  "I hate those," he said in normal speaking 
tones.  "Be...oh God....careful."  He leaned into her, pressed 
his lips against her ear.  "You're driving me nuts, Dana.  You 
feel so good..."  He clutched her buttocks possessively and kissed 
her roughly on the lips.

Oh, this is a dangerous game we're playing, Dana thought, 
kissing him back, sliding her tongue against his.  But two can 
certainly play it.  She tore her lips away from him, taunting him 
with her eyes.  "I feel like I'm going to split in two," she 
whispered, "but if you stop I'll have to kill you."

He smothered a laugh and began to pump into her faster.  
She scratched at his shoulders through the linen of his shirt, 
ran her hands over his face, his neck.  "Almost there, Mulder," 
she whispered.  She closed her eyes and concentrated on nothing 
but the feel of his hot breath on her neck, his hands on her breasts, 
his throbbing sex filling her completely. "Oh God...oh, God, 
I'm coming..." she moaned, in a barely audible voice that 
nonetheless nearly drove him over the edge.  She buried her 
face in his shoulder and held onto him for dear life as she 
convulsed around him, muffling her cries with the soft fabric 
of his shirt.  

He managed to hold out a little bit longer, at least until she was 
done shaking, and then he thrusted frantically, beyond all reason, 
until he finally emptied himself into her, inadvertently letting out 
a deep growl.  "Wow, I sure am hungry," he said loudly, covering.

Scully laughed, but stopped abruptly as he involuntarily collapsed 
against her, spent, letting almost all of his weight fall on top of her.  
"Mulder, get the hell off of me!" she said without thinking, and 
her voice was quite a bit louder than a whisper.  Her hand flew to 
her mouth in dismay.

Mulder lifted himself up and withdrew from her gently, setting 
her back on her feet and straightening her blouse.  "Sorry, Scully.  
I tripped."  She glanced at him thankfully, then they turned 
their attention to setting themselves to rights.

"I need to visit the ladies' room," Scully murmured.

Mulder wasn't feeling all that comfortable himself at the 
moment.  "Good idea."

When they had both returned from their respective clean-up 
excursions, Mulder nonchalantly pulled a small gift-wrapped 
package from his top desk drawer and tossed it over to Scully, 
who examined it with surprise.

"I thought we were going to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve," 
she reminded him, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"We are.  This is just a little something I wanted to give you
right now."

Intrigued, she tore off the paper and opened the small box.  
Resting inside was a plastic, gold-painted, fake trophy, with 
the proclamation "World's Greatest Lover" printed on a sticker 
on the plastic pedestal.  "No you did *not* buy this for me," 
Scully said in disbelief.  She wasn't sure whether to laugh, 
cry, or chuck it into the trash.  "Tell me I'm not looking 
at what I think I'm looking at."

"Don't you like it?  I thought it was cute," he pouted, 
pretending to be hurt.  He had known she would hate the 
trinket, but had taken perverse delight in buying it for her 
anyway.

She looked at him, and slowly but surely the sentiment 
behind the gift started to penetrate through her initial disgust.  
Besides, why should she let him think he'd gotten to her?  
"You know, Mulder," she said thoughtfully, studying the 
cheap thing, "this is without a doubt the cheesiest, tackiest, 
dumbest present anyone has ever given me.  And yet, there's 
something about it I like."  It was also dawning on her that 
their quickie against the wall had not been nearly enough to 
satisfy her.  Not by a longshot.  "In fact, I feel that I need to 
do something special to live up to this title."

He grinned and headed for their coats hanging on the rack 
near the door.  "Why don't we go to my place for lunch and 
discuss your qualifications?" he suggested.

She smiled seductively, envisioning the depraved things 
they would be doing to each other in a short while with 
delicious anticipation.  "Perfect.  Come to think of it, let's 
just knock off early today.  After all, it is Christmas, and 
we've barely begun to celebrate."

They started for the door, when Mulder stopped in his tracks.  
"Uh, Scully?"

"What is it, Mulder?" she said impatiently.  When something 
got in the way of her getting some, she tended to get crabby.

He smiled at her eagerness and gestured toward her desk.  
"Don't forget the wine."


The End.


"Wine 4: Chardonnay" by Dianora 1/1  NC17


Well, well, lookee here, it's another installment 
of "Wine," in which Mulder and Scully finally 
drink a type of wine I like myself.  Once again, 
this is kind of tongue-in-cheek, but hopefully hot 
and sexy at the same time.  Rated NC17 for a reason.  
Some of this gets pretty explicit and a little kinky.  
I can't believe I write this stuff. :)  

The Scrabble idea comes from a recent episode of 
"Melrose Place."  Yes, I am a 'Phile and an MP fan, 
but I would shoot myself in the head before I would 
write MP fanfic.  And no, I am NOT a Placemat.  I just 
love cheesy trash, which should be obvious from stories 
like these. :)

Everyone feel free to send me suggestions for further 
installments of "Wine," since I consider these my "fun" 
stories.  The only requirement is that at some point Mulder 
and Scully have some kind of sex, preferably in a somewhat 
original locale or situation.  E-mail me at Dianora2@aol.com 
with any comments or suggestions.

Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are properties of Chris Carter, 
Ten Thirteen Productions, and FOX Broadcasting, and of 
course I did not ask permission to use them.  I have better 
things to do, okay?  Sister Ernestine really was my ninth 
grade religion teacher, and she really did have Dating Rules.  
I swear.


"Wine 4: Chardonnay"  
by Dianora



It was raining.  And cold.  And grey.  And thoroughly 
depressing.  Scully folded up the Help Wanted section 
she had been reading out of curiosity and reflected that 
she should have been an accountant, judging from the 
starting salaries that were advertised.  An accountant or 
a plumber.  Or an exotic dancer.  She snorted in amusement, 
shaking her head at such a ridiculous thought.  Who was 
she kidding?  She could never be a *plumber*.

The sound of heavy raindrops pitter-pattering against the 
windowpanes was usually soothing, but today it was 
driving her nuts, a constant reminder that it was Sunday 
and she was stuck inside with nothing to do except read 
the paper and watch professional bowling on cable.  She 
supposed she could clean the bathroom or do some laundry 
or even start that  Tom Robbins novel she had been meaning 
to read, but she just couldn't get motivated.  If God gets to 
rest on Sunday, so do I, dammit, she thought wryly, 
although she had a feeling that Sister Mary Ernestine from 
ninth grade religion class probably wouldn't appreciate that 
particular sentiment.  She sighed restlessly, shifting on the 
couch.  Recalling Sister Ernestine and therefore also r
emembering the nun's infamous Dating Rules always made 
her crave some hot, dirty sex as an act of rebellion.  Hmmm.  
Now there was a way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  Maybe, 
she decided, I need to call Mulder and get his buns of steel 
over here.  She reached over to the end table, picked up the 
phone and dialed.  His recorded greeting announced that he 
wasn't able to get to the phone, but she knew better.  

"Mulder, it's me.  Pick up the phone."

A short pause, then the whine of feedback pierced her 
eardrum as he picked up the receiver and the machine 
clicked off.  "Hey, Scully."

"Mulder.  It's raining."

"Yeaaaah....um, that's right, Scully.  You should have 
been a meteorologist."

"No, I should have been an accountant.  Or an exotic 
dancer.  But that's not why I'm calling."

"It's not?"  He sounded disappointed.

"No.  I'm bored," she sighed.  "Do you want to come 
over and play?"

"Well, that all depends on what kind of game you had in 
mind," he said suggestively.

"Scrabble."

"Huh?"  

She grinned into the receiver.  "You heard me, Mulder.  
I feel like playing some Scrabble."

"Sorry, Scully, you must have me confused with Alex 
Trebek."

"Alex Trebek does not host *Scrabble,* Mulder," she said 
disgustedly.  "You're thinking of 'Concentration,' which 
he does host, in addition to his regular hosting responsibilities 
on 'Jeopardy.'  Try to get your pop culture references straight."

"*Mea culpa*," he sneered.  

"Are you coming over?"

"Well," he said, feigning having a life, "I was going to meet 
some guys for a game of basketball..."

"It's raining," she interrupted.  "And you have no friends."

"See, that's why I like spending time with you, Scully.  
You're always willing to give my ego a boost."

"Get over here and I'll give you a boost, all right," 
she said huskily.

He gulped.  "I'll be there in half an hour."



Right on time, she thought approvingly as her doorbell 
rang thirty minutes later.  She pulled her black satin robe 
more securely around her and took a deep breath.  Even 
though they had been sleeping together for a few months 
now, she still found herself getting a little nervous occasionally, 
as if it could all fall apart at any moment.  But she knew that 
as soon as she opened the door and looked into his eyes, all 
of her doubts and fears would be immediately erased, as 
always.  She flung the door open.

He was wearing dark sunglasses. 

He leaned in expectantly for a kiss, but she took a step 
away from him.  "Is there any particular reason you're 
wearing sunglasses indoors?"

"Not really.  They're new, that's all, and I wanted to get 
your opinion.  What do you think?"

I think, she thought silently, that you're lucky I'm even 
letting you into my apartment, buster.  "They're, uh, great, 
Mulder."  She let him in then, and was relieved when he 
took the glasses off and those beautiful hazel eyes met hers, 
full of warmth and affection and the hard glint of something 
more primal.  He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her 
thoroughly, and she sighed as his hands started roaming 
over her body, caressing her through the satin.

"You're not wearing anything underneath this, are you 
Scully," he murmured against her ear.

"I didn't really see the point," she answered, practically 
purring as he began to nuzzle her neck.  This was *much* 
better than pro bowling.

"Scully?"

"Mmmm."  She clutched his strong shoulders tighter.

"You got anything to eat?"

She pushed him away.  "You suck, Mulder."

He chuckled lightly and leered at her.  "But I'm *so* good 
at it..."

"You just keep telling yourself that."  She sighed a sigh, 
not of defeat, she told herself, but of compromise.  Right.   
"Well, what do you want to eat, since that's apparently all I'm 
good for at the moment?"  She headed for the kitchen as he 
followed eagerly.

"Anything.  I'm starved.  I didn't eat this morning because 
there was nothing in the apartment."

"What a shock."  She opened and closed cabinets while 
Mulder marveled at shelves that actually had boxes and cans 
of food sitting on them.  "I have some leftovers from last night, 
I think.  Some salad and a chicken cutlet."

"Perfect."  

She grumbled something under her breath about never making 
too much food again, since she never managed to have the 
second serving herself anyway, not with six-foot tall bottomless 
pit eating machines hanging around, and pulled the food from 
the refrigerator.  "Here," she said, pushing the plate with the 
cutlet on it toward him, "you can nuke it yourself, can't you?"

"I think that's within my domestic capabilities, yes."  He 
proceeded to radiate the hell out of the thing while Scully 
scooped most of the salad into a bowl for him.  "What do 
you have to drink?"

"Mulder, what do I look like?  The Flying Saucer Diner?  
You could have brought something."

He pointedly ignored the comment.  "Don't you still have 
that bottle of Chardonnay that we never got around to drinking 
last time I was here?"

She paused before answering, remembering with a tingle the 
reason they had never gotten to the bottle that night.  Her neck 
had been sore for days after that....  "It's still unopened."  She 
retrieved it from the wine rack and set it down in front of him 
with a clunk.  "You know where the corkscrew is, you do it.  
I'll be in the bedroom."

"What are you gonna do in there?" he asked around a 
mouthful of salad.

She raised an eyebrow.  "Why, set up the game, of course."



True to her word, when Mulder entered the bedroom a 
few minutes later with the wine and two glasses, Scully 
was sprawled out on the bed, the board game set up before 
her.  "Where's the food?" she asked.

"I finished it."

"You're a pig.  You realize that, don't you?"

"One of my many charming qualities."  He settled down on 
the bed, on the opposite side of the board from her.  He tried 
to ignore the fact that her robe had loosened and he could see 
the graceful curve of one breast.  "I see you already chose 
your letters."

"Yes.  Is that a problem?"

"Nah, I trust you.  I guess."  She narrowed her eyes and 
shot him a glare that was positively striking on her, although 
he'd never tell her that.  "Careful, Scully, or your face 
might freeze that way."

"I'll take my chances.  Pick your letters."

He carefully selected his seven letters and placed them on 
his rack, pouring himself and Scully each a glass of wine as 
he appraised his selection.  S, T, C, L, A, K, U.  Nothing 
was leaping out at him yet, except ASK, which was entirely 
too dinky.  "Who goes first?"

"Well, we have to each pick a letter from the bag, and 
whoever gets the higher letter goes first."

"Fine."  He reached in and pulled out a tile.  Z.  Typical.

Scully waved her C at him.  "Guess I go first."

"Fine."

She placed her letters down on the board, spelling out the 
word TRUCK, then calculated her score and carefully made 
a notation on her memo pad.  He was amused to realize that 
she had labeled the columns "Mulder" and "Scully" in her 
precise handwriting.  Mulder took a swallow from his glass, 
savoring the tang of the dry wine.  After careful consideration, 
he placed the word LUST on the board.

"That's cute, Mulder.  Real cute."

"It comes from the heart, Scully."

"That's not the only place it's coming from," she observed.

"You're the one who wants to play this game, when there are 
plenty of more exciting activities we could be engaging in."

"Good things come to those who wait," she said casually, and 
placed KISS on the board.  

"Now that's more like it," Mulder said, leaning across the 
board as she met him halfway, pressing her lips to his.  He 
reached up with one hand to cup her face as he parted her 
lips with his tongue, slipping inside her mouth.  Her breathing 
quickened, hot against his cheek, and his own heart began to 
beat a little faster.  It was amazing to him, still, that she could 
have such an intense physical effect on him.  She pulled away, 
and a small sound of protest escaped from his throat.

"Your turn," she said breathlessly, eyes sparkling.

"Um, yeah."  He assessed his new letters, trying to 
concentrate, suddenly determined to make this game as 
interesting as possible.  He placed his tiles down and 
looked up to see her reaction.

"SUCK?  You have a one-track mind," she said 
disapprovingly.

"So?"  Putting his glass of wine down on the nighttable, 
he reached over and pushed her robe gently aside, revealing 
one perfect ivory breast.  She watched wordlessly as he 
leaned over and enclosed the hardened nipple with his mouth, 
sucking deeply.  He flicked his tongue over the pink tip 
delicately, and when he began nibbling she clenched the 
comforter with the hand not holding the wine glass, determined 
not to cry out.  Not yet.  When he pulled away, the air was 
cool on her wet skin.  She licked her lips to moisten them, 
trying to find words, knowing that words were unavailable 
to her when he looked at her like that, like he wanted to 
swallow her whole.

Slowly and deliberately she placed the next word on the 
board, taking her eyes from his only long enough to make 
sure the tiles were in the right place.  EAT.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and a renewed 
look of predatory determination manifested on his face.  
Without taking his eyes from hers, he swept the game off 
the bed with a crash, the wooden tiles scattering all over the 
floor.  Scully had just enough time to set her wine glass 
aside before he pounced on her, untying the sash of her robe 
and stripping her of the garment, throwing it on the floor.  
He roughly turned her over onto her stomach, and Dana 
practically moaned in delight as she waited for him to enter 
her from behind.  It took her a moment to realize that he had 
grabbed both her hands and was now tying her wrists firmly 
with the belt from her robe.

"Mulder?  What the hell are you doing?"  She twisted in his 
grasp, but although she was strong for her size, she wasn't 
that strong.

"You're in the mood to play, aren't you, Scully?" he 
whispered, bending over so his mouth was next to her ear.  
"Trust me, Scully.  You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice, not sure which emotion 
was winning out inside of her at the moment, anger or 
excitement.  He turned her over, gently this time, and she 
was startled by the intense look of desire on his face.  
It also felt a little weird for her to be completely naked 
while he was still fully clothed, but she was doing her 
best to get over it.  He lowered himself so that he was 
hovering above her, resting on his forearms.

"Trust me," he whispered again.  "Just relax."  She nodded, 
and forced herself to breathe, to sink back into the pillows 
and let him do what he wanted to her.  He trailed soft, slow, 
wet kisses down her chest, pausing at each breast to tenderly 
kiss the nipples, then continued down to her abdomen, where 
he dipped his tongue into her navel before moving to her 
hipbones, tracing the line of them with his tongue.  "Right here," 
he said softly, pressing baby kisses to the area directly above 
the soft auburn curls between her legs.  "I love it right here.  
So smooth..."

She watched as he caressed her stomach, her abdomen, and 
then slipped one hand between her legs to stroke her there.   
She squirmed beneath him, wanting more, knowing he was 
going to take his sweet time giving it to her, and there was 
nothing she could do about it.

As if reading her mind, he lifted his head to look at her.  "You 
want more, Dana?  Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head and bent her knees so that she could 
squeeze him with her legs, urging him to continue.  He 
flashed her a mischievous smile and lowered his head again, 
kissing her pelvic area, until he finally slid further down on 
the bed so that he could kiss her between her thighs.  A low, 
harsh breath escaped from her as he began licking her there, 
probing with his tongue, sucking gently, reaching underneath 
her to clutch her buttocks and press her closer to him.  She 
found herself straining at the silk bonds holding her wrists, 
but Mulder must have been a Boy Scout, because the knots 
were super tight.  Besides, she wasn't really sure she wanted 
to get free.  He closed his mouth on her hardened nub and 
sucked strongly, running his tongue over it, drinking her in.  
She was gasping now, gasping and moaning lowly, squeezing 
his head with her thighs, wishing she could grasp his hair in 
her hands to push him ever closer.

She tried to put off her orgasm as long as possible, tried 
every mental trick she could think of to allow the unbelievable 
ecstasy of Mulder making love to her with his mouth to continue, 
but finally she couldn't hold out any longer, and she screamed 
to a God she barely believed in anymore as the convulsions 
took over.

She kept twitching, even after Mulder stopped and propped 
himself up so he could kiss her on the lips, slowly, sensually.  
She opened her mouth to him eagerly, tasting herself on his 
tongue, putting all of her desire into it.  "Untie me," she 
whispered when their lips parted.

He shook his head.  "Not yet."  He placed a finger to her lips 
as she opened her mouth to protest.  "Admit it, Scully," he 
said softly.  "Admit that you like this, that you don't want me 
to untie you."

She averted her eyes, embarrassed.  "Don't," she bit out.  He 
placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose before lifting himself 
off the bed and beginning to undress, slowly, purposefully, 
watching her watch him.  She looked him over boldly, drinking 
in the lean, muscled lines of his body, trying to maintain some 
sense of control, wanting him to know she still had some 
measure of power over him.

When all of his clothes were lying in a heap on the floor, 
he mounted her again and entered her in one swift movement.  
Scully braced her feet behind his back, willing him to go 
deeper as he began to thrust inside of her.  His fingers tangled 
themselves in her hair and he covered her mouth with his, 
swallowing her soft cries of pleasure.  When the kiss ended 
he moaned her name and began to move faster within her.

Scully couldn't take it anymore.  "Mulder, untie me...I mean it
...ahh...this time...want to, to touch you...please," she gasped.

He searched her eyes to be sure she meant it, then withdrew 
from her gently, smiling at her soft curse at the feeling of loss.  
Rolling her over just a little bit, so that she was lying on her side, 
he worked at the knots until her hands were free and he was 
able to throw the belt on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

"That better?" he whispered, only to let out a yelp as Scully 
whirled over with astonishing speed and pinned him on his 
back.  Before he could even react, she straddled him and 
guided him up into her, then began rocking wildly, almost 
punishingly.  "Dana...Jesus," he breathed, trying to get back 
into the swing of things.  It was not easy to keep up with her; 
he had never seen her so frenzied, so possessed.  He gripped 
her hips and just went along for the ride.

Dana, for her part, was punctuating each undulation of her 
body with a mental shout:  Take that!  And that!  And that!  
Tying...me...up...some...nerve...pay...you...back...how... 
do...you...like...it...now...you...bastard!  Unfortunately, 
she arrived at the last word at the same time a shattering orgasm 
engulfed her, and she screamed the word aloud, causing Mulder 
to wilt just a little inside of her.  His response, as she covered 
her mouth, pretending she was sorry,was to flip her over that 
so that he was on top again, and he finished himself off in 
record time as she clutched his behind and moaned his name, 
chuckling lightly as she did so.

"Wow," she said, when he had withdrawn and rolled over 
beside her.  "That was uh, pretty good, Mulder."

"I thought so," he said smugly.  He gathered her into his 
arms and held her close, kissing her forehead tenderly.  
"You're not too mad at me, are you?"

"Nah," she said after a moment's thought.  "I'm more 
pissed that you interrupted our Scrabble game.  I suppose 
you were afraid of losing."

He laughed.  "More like I was afraid of winning, and 
putting you out of the mood for the rest of the afternoon."

She pulled away from him slightly.  "Excuse me?  Am 
I that sore of a loser?"

"Scully, no offense, but I think you kind of just proved 
that theory."

"Fine.  Whatever."  She pinched his nipple in retaliation 
and was rewarded with a hiss of pain.  "I expect a rematch."

"Scully, I'm only human.  Give me a few minutes, will ya?" 
he complained.  It was flattering that she thought he was 
Superman, but still....

"Not that, Mulder.  I'm talking about Scrabble."

"Oh.  I knew that."  He nuzzled the top of her head 
thoughtfully.  "Scully,  I want you to know that I'm glad 
you didn't freak out when I tied you up like that.  Some 
people have a real problem with having to put so much 
trust in another person.  I'm flattered that you were willing 
to let me take you there."

"You know I trust you, Mulder," she yawned into his chest.  
"I trust you more than anyone.  But next time, could you at 
least please give me some warning?"

He looked at her in surprise.  "Does that mean there'll 
be a next time?" he said hopefully.

"Hey, I'm an open-minded kind of woman.  Just be 
aware that I *will* get you back for springing it on me, 
Mulder.  When you least expect it, the shoe will suddenly 
be on the other foot."

"I can't wait," he said truthfully, feeling himself start to 
stir again.  He picked up the wineglass from the end table 
and took a swallow of wine.  "Do you think we'll ever finish 
this bottle of Chardonnay?" he asked playfully.

She took the glass from him, swigged the rest of the 
contents, and set it aside before pouncing on him.  
"Not if I have anything to say about it."


The End.

"Wine 5: Mead" by Dianora  *NC17*

Yeah, yeah, I know mead isn't *wine,* it's an *ale,* 
but alcohol is alcohol.  I don't feel like changing 
this to the Potent Potables Series, it would be way 
too Alex Trebek.  <g>

Rated NC17 for sexual situations.  I think you all 
know this by now. :-)  There's a turning point of 
sorts in Mulder and Scully's relationship in this piece.  
That doesn't mean I plan on making this series a 
continuing story; I just thought I'd inject something a 
little weightier this time around.  Hope it's still fun.  
Comments and suggestions for future wine selections 
and scenarios to Dianora2@aol.com.

The Renaissance Festival depicted here is based 
on the New York Renaissance Festival held in Tuxedo, 
New York every summer.  Whether they have this stuff 
at other Ren fairs I have no idea.  I hope no one 
involved with the NYRF reads this and takes offense.  
I'm writing this out of love for the Festival.

Usual rigmarole: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are not 
characters of my creation and they do not belong to me.  
They are the possessions of people who like to refer 
to characters as possessions, namely Chris Carter, 
1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting Company.  

This installment of "Wine" is dedicated to my cyber 
twin, Leikin Sky, who once asked me, "Are you ever 
going to have something else happen in this series, 
or are they just going to have sex every time?"  Or 
words to that effect, anyway. <g>  I'm not sure if this 
qualifies, twinnie, but hopefully you'll like it anyway. :-)



"What can I get for ye, m'lady?" the buxom blonde 
inquired in a heavy, fake, British accent.

Scully eyed the woman's breasts, which were pushed 
up to her neck thanks to the brocade corset she was 
wearing.  "Two cups of mead, please," she answered, 
in a tone of voice that clearly said, I Am Not Impressed.

The blonde poured the amber liquid into two plastic 
cups and handed them to Scully with an all too jaunty 
flair, then took Scully's money, frowning slightly when 
Scully didn't contribute to the small wicker basket 
marked YE OLDE TIPS.  "Thankee, m'lady," she said 
grudgingly.

Scully gave the woman a tight smile and walked 
away, looking for a sign of her errant partner, who 
was off buying her a surprise gift.  At least, he 
seemed to think it was going to be a surprise.  She 
hadn't had the heart to inform him that his announcing 
he "had to take care of something" as his eyes 
twinkled gave him away completely.

She scanned the eating area for him, squinting her 
eyes against the glare of the hot midday sun, but 
gave up finally, sitting down at one of the numerous 
wooden tables and sipping cautiously at her mead.  
Hmm.  Not bad, actually.  Tangy.  With a hell of a 
kick to it.  A yellowjacket buzzed around the rim of 
the cup, and she swatted at it impatiently.

Before she could take another sip she spied out 
of the corner of her eye a colorfully-clad, ridiculously 
good-looking, over-eager juggler inching his way 
in her direction with his bright rubber balls.  She 
shot him a forbidding glare and was gratified to see 
him smile weakly before retreating in search of 
more gullible prey.  That's right, take your balls 
somewhere else, buddy, she thought with a smirk.  
She still couldn't quite believe that she had agreed 
to accompany Mulder to a Renaissance Festival.  
Not in a million years would she have thought it was 
his type of thing, but the passion with which he 
spoke of the pageantry, the jousting -- and of all 
things the pickles -- had been enough to convince 
her to go along for the ride.  It wasn't like she had 
anything better to do.  To be honest, now that she 
was here she was enjoying herself more than she 
had expected.  She had little patience for 
the fake accents, overflowing cleavage, and such 
anachronisms as falafel stands, but the mood of the 
fair was unarguably infectious.  Plus, she now 
understood just why Mulder loved it so much.  Like 
attracts like, freak attracts freak and all that.

She let out an unsurprised sigh when Mulder 
finally returned bearing a garland of flowers for 
her hair.  "You can't be serious," she said, looking 
up at him from her seat.  He had already outfitted 
himself earlier in the day in a long, black, hooded 
cloak: quite an extravagant purchase, but she had 
to admit she experienced a pleasant tingling in 
her nether regions at the sight of him.  She felt 
downright underdressed in her own casual garb 
of a v-neck white men's undershirt, blue jean 
shorts slung low on her hips, and black Doc Marten 
shoes.

"Come on.  This'll look great on you," he insisted.

He *had* selected a lovely color combination.  Dried 
cornflowers, babies' breath, and daisies, with midnight 
blue, powder blue, and white ribbons trailing off the back, 
which she had to admit would look great against her hair.  
Many of the women at the fair were wearing similar 
adornments in a riot of colors.  She sighed again, a 
particular sigh of resignation reserved exclusively for 
Mulder.  "Okay, give it to me."  She stood up and took 
it from him, then tentatively set it atop her head and 
fought back a smile at the way his eyes took her in 
appreciatively.  "I really think these are more for women 
with longer hair," she observed.

He shook his head.  "No they're not.  You look...
you look perfect," he said softly.  He reached out 
to run his fingers through the satin ribbons, then 
planted a kiss on her forehead.

"If anyone at the Bureau saw me right now, I'd 
never hear the end of it," she grumbled, trying to 
maintain her composure in the face of his affection.  
It was unfortunately a losing battle.

"What they don't know won't hurt them.  Is that mead?" 
he asked abruptly, picking up the untouched plastic cup.

"Yeah.  It's not bad. I assumed they'd have watered it 
down, but it tastes pretty strong," Scully said.

He sipped the drink warily, then nodded in approval.  
"Good."  He gulped down some more, nodded again.  
"Damn good!"

"Do you want to check out this 'Living Chess Game' 
or not?" she asked, whipping Ye Olde Faire Mappe 
out of her black leather shoulder bag and attempting to 
decipher the cryptic symbols.  She noticed that a crude 
drawing of an outhouse with a crescent moon on the 
door represented the restrooms.  Charming.

"Yeah, that's one of the best bits they do here," he said 
enthusiastically.  He tossed back the rest of the mead.  
"But first I want to get one for the road."

"Get me one too," she said.  She drank greedily from 
the cup, draining it.  This stuff really was great!  It was 
a wonder they managed to get anything accomplished 
back in the Middle Ages, with this stuff around.

He took just a little too long talking to that blonde 
barmaid when he placed his order, as far as Scully was 
concerned, but he made it up to her with a mock bow 
and a wink when he returned with two fresh cups.  
"More mead for m'lady," he said in an atrocious imitation 
of the wench's accent.

She rolled her eyes at him.  "Come on, let's go watch 
that Checker Game."

"Chess Game."

"Whatever."

On their way across the grounds to the Chess Board 
they had to cross a bridge, a quaint wooden span over 
a small pond, covered in multi-colored streamers, with 
a large placard above it proclaiming "Kissing Bridge" 
in exquisite calligraphy.  How wonderfully schmaltzy, 
Scully thought cynically.  She eyeballed Mulder, but 
he pretended not to notice -- although his hand 
tightened its grip on hers.  They started over, and 
when they were halfway to the other side Scully 
thought she just might escape with her dignity intact.

Fat chance.

He stopped in his tracks and pulled her to him, 
forcing his tongue into her mouth and going at it 
vigorously.  She tried to maintain some remnant 
of composure, but he was just too damn sexy for 
her to resist, so she wound up giving as good as 
she got, certain they were making a spectacle of 
themselves.  When he finally pulled away they 
were both breathless.

"You're a real cheeseball, you know that, Mulder?" 
she murmured, eyes sparkling.

"Are you complaining?"

She smiled up at him.  "Who?  Me?"

He grinned back and slung his arm over her 
shoulder.  It was so nice, he reflected, as he 
sipped contentedly at his drink, to be able to 
show affection in public, to casually drop a quick 
kiss on the top of Scully's head before the two of 
them continued on their way across the fairgrounds.  
Sure, they had taken separate cars and chosen 
a Festival two states away, but still...  "Look, 
Scully, there's another mead stand."

"Mulder, you're not even finished with what you 
have," she said, sounding a little too much like 
his mother for comfort.  Against his will he 
flashbacked to bargaining sessions for dessert 
with his parents.

"But I will finish it by the time we get to the 
Chess Board."

Can't argue with that logic, Scully decided.  
"All right.  Get me another one, too."

"You lush."

"Be quiet."  She watched him unabashedly as 
he loped over to yet another blonde barmaid 
(do they breed them special? she wondered) and 
asked for a refill.  The pleasant sensation in her 
nether regions was quickly turning into an 
insistent throbbing.  Now is not the time, she 
reprimanded herself.  The aroused organs in 
question didn't listen.  She gnawed on her lower 
lip and tried to think about something safe, like 
nucleotides.  Nope.  No luck.

Mulder looked at her questioningly when he 
came back with the mead refills.  "Something the 
matter?"

"No," she said quickly, too quickly.  "Give me that."  
She grabbed the cup from him and took big gulps, 
concentrating on the burn that spread through her 
body as she drank.  Time to practice a little self-
control, as Sister Ernestine used to say, she told 
herself firmly.  Still, she couldn't suppress a slight 
shudder as he absently ran his fingers up and 
down her back.  Did he have any idea what he 
did to her?  Probably not, the dense bastard.

When they arrived at their destination, Scully 
discovered that the Living Chess Game took place 
on a large "board," consisting of squares spray-
painted onto the grass.  The teams were made up 
of live combatants assigned to each position, one 
team representing Robin Hood and his Merry Band,
 the other, the Sheriff of Nottingham and his lackeys.  
The captain, or king, of each team called out the 
moves and their teammates complied.  To determine 
which piece was to be "captured," the two opposing 
team members engaged in armed or hand-to-hand 
combat.  The entire event was naturally 
accompanied by a steady stream of bawdy humor 
from the participants.

Mulder and Scully managed to claim a small 
section of grass for themselves, and as soon as 
they sat down Mulder pulled Scully to him so that 
she was sitting in front of him, his legs framing 
hers, his arms wrapped around her.  Their half-
empty cups teetered precariously on the ground 
beside them.

Mulder could hardly believe that the simple act 
of embracing Scully could stir up such complex 
and seductive sensations.  He pressed his face 
against her hair, the smell of her shampoo mixing 
pleasantly with the fragrance from the dried 
flowers in her garland, and tried to enjoy the 
spectacle of the Chess Game, but instead 
found himself distracted by the feel of his 
partner's body against his, the way her back 
fit neatly against his chest, the way her hand 
rested lightly on his knee.  He drank the rest 
of his mead, which predictably only heightened 
his erotic feelings.  Idiot, he berated himself.  If 
Scully only knew what he was thinking about her 
right now...actually, she'd probably make him act 
on it.  The thought made him grin wolfishly.

It's amazing that we can be together like this, 
Scully thought, after all we've been through, 
after all the detours along the way.  She had 
little interest in the Chess Game, so she was 
all too attuned to the feel of Mulder's arms 
encircling her, to the warm breeze that was his 
breath in her hair.  The mead was doing its job 
a little too well, and she was feeling increasingly...
aroused.  There was no more delicate way to 
put it.  She wanted Mulder at that instant, wanted 
him inside of her, wanted to feel his hands claiming 
her breasts...she shivered, and Mulder tightened 
his embrace in response.

"Are you cold?" he whispered into her ear.

"No," she managed to answer through dry lips.  
Experiencing a tiny thrill at her own audacity, she 
began to methodically massage his thigh, tracing 
heavy circles on his black jeans.

His breath caught in his throat.  What the hell was 
she doing?  Didn't she realize he was more than 
willing to fight fire with fire?  Or was she counting 
on it?  He brushed her hair away from the nape of 
her neck, exposing the ivory skin, and began 
placing soft kisses there, right where he knew it 
drove her absolutely nuts.

She immediately stiffened in his embrace.  It was 
so unfair that he knew exactly what to do to make 
her crazy.  She reached back with one hand to 
caress the back of his head as the other 
continued to knead his thigh.  When one of 
Mulder's hands brushed her breast ever so 
slightly, she bit her lip and wondered what 
would happen if she were to climax in front of 
all these people.  It'd probably be a better show 
than the Living Chess Game, she thought acidly, 
then looked up to see a tow-headed boy, about 
ten years old, sitting on the grass a few feet away 
and watching her and Mulder with wide brown 
eyes.  His green felt dragon hand puppet lay 
on the ground beside him, forgotten.

My sin for the day, she thought ruefully.  
Corrupting a little boy, how lovely.  Mulder, 
oblivious to their pre-adolescent audience, 
continued to tongue the back of her neck and 
began to slide his hand down toward her crotch.

Deciding to take some action toward a mutually 
satisfying conclusion that wouldn't get them 
arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a 
minor, Scully clamped her hand down on 
Mulder's to halt his exploratory expedition, then 
twisted around so that her lips were just not 
quite touching his.

He was already breathing raggedly, and his 
hazel eyes glistened with raw need.  "I want you," 
he whispered hoarsely.

"Prove it," she said, and the next thing he knew 
she was taking off for the forest at a run, trusting 
him to follow.

Which of course he did, knowing he could 
overtake her whenever he wanted, knowing 
that she knew he could overtake her whenever 
he wanted.  But he didn't want to catch up to 
her too soon.  He wanted to make sure they 
were deep enough into the woods first.  Deep 
enough that no one would be able to hear them 
scream.

When he allowed himself to catch her he grabbed 
her arm and spun her around, pushing her up 
against the nearest gnarled tree and pressing 
the length of his body against hers.  A deep 
moan escaped from his throat as they kissed, 
hard, bruising their mouths, clutching urgently 
at each other, pulling at clothes, clawing at belts.  
There was no romance here, no soft light and 
candles, just pure, unadulterated desire.  Within 
moments Mulder's cloak fell to the ground with 
a flutter, creating a dark pool on the forest floor.  
Scully's shorts and underwear and Mulder's 
jeans and boxers soon followed.

He reached up under her shirt to cup her breasts, 
rubbing his fingers over the nipples through the 
lace bra, fighting the urge to rip the garment off 
of her completely.  Scully gasped and with frantic 
hands took hold of his cock, stroking it purposefully, 
guiding it toward her, nearly overpowering him 
with the force of her wanting.  And then suddenly 
his world shifted and he was inside of her, 
thrusting madly, pushing her up against the tree 
trunk as she dug her nails into his back and 
held on for dear life, their moans and panting 
unnaturally loud in the quiet of the woods, far 
away from the activity of the Festival fairgrounds.  
He had no rational thought beyond the need 
to pump into her, no sensations outside of 
the pleasure of being sheathed in her hot, 
soft flesh.

"So good," he whispered.  "Jesus, Scully..."

"No, Mulder," she hissed.  "Don't talk.  
Just ...just fuck me."

Mulder took hold of Scully's arms and held 
them above her head, kissing her thoroughly 
as he thrusted into her more violently, sharing 
her need to have it rough, to have it rough 
enough to block out the rest of the world, to 
give expression to the raw animal need flowing 
through both of them.  Her thighs gripped his 
and she tried to match his movements despite 
her awkward position, trying to pull him deeper 
into her, wanting him to fill her completely. 
When he tore his mouth away from hers she 
opened her eyes and looked at him, loving 
the pleasure she was inflicting upon him.  
This was true power, but power with no 
motive other than pleasure and the need for 
release.  She leaned her head forward to 
bite at his shoulder, and he groaned, nipping 
at her neck in response.  When he lifted her 
shirt and pushed aside one cup of the bra to 
tease and suck at her nipple, she lost it.  She 
clung to him as she convulsed against him, 
around him, coming quietly, emitting soft 
sighs and short, sharp exclamations of pleasure.

He exploded soon after, emptying himself 
into her and gasping her name.  He leaned 
against her and wrapped his fingers in her 
hair as Scully waited for her body to stop 
shuddering.

"Love you," he whispered.

Scully froze. "Excuse me?" she croaked.

He lifted his head up and their eyes met.  "I --"

"Oh God Mulder," she said wearily.

"I didn't just say that," he babbled.  "I didn't."  
He let go of her and began to pick his clothes 
up from the ground, stepping hastily into his 
boxers.  "Forget it."

"How can I?  Mulder, I thought...I thought we 
both understood that we can't let things get 
too complicated..."  She tried to catch his eye 
as she reached down for her own clothes, 
but he refused to look at her.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" he 
bit out, pulling on his jeans.

"I didn't think it was," she said carefully, 
taking some tissues out of her bag and 
wiping off her thighs.  They had so studiously 
avoided the word "love," the same way 
they had avoided "commitment," and "relationship."  
Their world was too tenuous for that, too 
unstable to allow something as abstract 
as love to cloud matters, to twist them so 
that they were even more complicated than 
they already were.  When she finished dressing 
she studied him intently, trying to decipher what 
was going through that brilliant and complicated 
mind.  He was busy futzing with his cloak.  
"Mulder, look at me.  Please."

His head snapped up and he stepped closer 
to her, until she actually took a stumbling step 
backwards.  "No Scully.  You look at me.  You 
look straight at me and tell me that what you 
feel for me, what we have, isn't love.  Go ahead."

She met those hazel eyes bravely, determined 
that at least one of them should try to be sensible 
about this whole thing, should insist on keeping 
things simple...

"I can't, Mulder.  I can't say that," she admitted 
softly.

"I know."  He reached out as if to touch her, but 
then pulled his hand back and ran it through his 
hair instead.  "Scully, we can't shut off our 
feelings, can't deny them.  It's not right."

"It's not the truth, is that it?" she asked bitterly.  
"Your obsession with the truth has to extend 
to every single part of your life?"

"In this part, always," he said.  He reached out 
for her again, and this time he did touch her, 
enveloping her in a tender hug and smoothing 
her hair gently with his hand.

She tried to stay angry.  But what could she 
be angry about, really?  Angry that he loved her?  
"You're a pain in the ass, you know that, Mulder?" 
she said resentfully, his shirt muffling her voice.

"Would you have me any other way?" he asked 
the top of her head.

She pulled back slightly so that she could look 
up at him, and unexpectedly broke into a 
disarming, toothy smile.  His body sagged in 
relief.  The tension had passed.  "I'll have you 
any way you'd like, Agent Mulder."

"Can I make a list?"

"Sure.  Leave it in my in box at the office.  I'm sure 
I'll get to it eventually, along with all the other grunt 
work."  She turned her back on him and started 
to walk back toward the fairgrounds.

He hurried after her, still shaking his head at her 
horrendous pun, still amazed that their confrontation 
had resolved itself so quickly.  "Where are you 
going?"

"I think I'm going to buy that black leather corset 
I was looking at earlier.  Just to keep you on your 
toes."

His mouth went bone dry and other parts of his 
anatomy responded in kind.  "That's...great, Scully.  
But now you've fixed it so that I'll have to carry this 
cloak around in front of my crotch for the rest of the day."

She raised an eyebrow mockingly.  "You think *that* 
will be noticeable?  Don't flatter yourself," she said, 
grinning.

"You think you're funny, dontcha?  You're real funny, 
Scully, real --"  He grabbed her arm and tried to pull 
her to him once more, but in a patented FBI training 
maneuver she swept her leg under his, knocking him 
off balance.  He fell to the ground, but not without 
managing to pull her down with him, whereupon he 
proceeded to demonstrate exactly how *noticeable* 
his arousal was.

Maybe this will be okay, she thought, as she wrapped 
her arms around him and held him tight.  Maybe we'll 
make it through.  After all, there are worse things 
than being in love.  Maybe.

Summary:  Scully turns the tables on Mulder in
the bedroom.

"Wine 6: Zinfandel in a Box"
by Dianora  1/1  NC17

This installment refers to "Wine 4: Chardonnay" (which
is still my personal favorite in the series), but you don't
have to have read that one first.

Thanks to MD1016 for the Box idea.  Thanks both
to her and to Unicorn83 for providing our little crew
with cheap wine in a box at one time or another.  <g>

Instead of dedicating this to a person, I think I need to
dedicate this one to the episode "Leonard Betts," which
snapped me out of a deadly run of writer's block.  :-)

The characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris
Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Broadcasting, etc., etc.
No copyright infringement intended.

Author's note: This is the first real story I've completed since
a five-month run of writer's block.  I think that rustiness
probably shows, so bear with me if this isn't quite up to par.
I'm just overjoyed I actually finished the damn thing! <g>

Comments?  Suggestions for future wine selections?
Write me at Dianora2@aol.com.



Scully cursed softly and hid her copy of Jose Chung's 
"From Outer Space" underneath a stack of papers as she 
heard Mulder approaching the office, knowing that she would 
never hear the end of it if he caught her reading what he 
considered to be a Manifesto Against the Already Misunderstood 
Phenomenon of Alien Abduction, yadda yadda yadda.  Whatever.  
The door swung open just as she managed to strike an ultra-casual 
pose: leaning back in the chair, she propped her feet up on the 
desk and examined her nails, whistling as she did so.  "Hi Mulder."

"You were reading that Chung book again, weren't you," he said 
accusingly.

She looked at him with wide eyes, a deer caught in the headlights 
of life.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

He shot her a Look.  She resented the fact that he was well on 
his way to perfecting said Look.  She was supposed to be the only 
one in the partnership with a capital Look.  "Well, where were you?" 
she asked, changing the subject defensively.

"I was actually getting some work done.  Maybe you remember the 
concept?"  He threw a manila file onto the desktop next to her feet.  
"It's a background check on the perp the DC police took into custody 
yesterday.  It might turn up something interesting."

Scully shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  
"Mulder, I'm way ahead of you.  Lt. Teemoth called a few minutes 
ago.  The kid confessed.  Case closed."

Mulder visibly deflated.  "But what about --"

"No buts, Mulder.  The case is closed.  Let it lie."

"But --"

"Are you deaf?"

He scowled at her.  "I wish.  Then I wouldn't have to listen to 
you."

She rolled her eyes at him in response.  They had been on edge, 
snippy with each other, for days now, and they both knew why.

It had been ten days since the last time they had sex.

Seven long, busy, exhausting days of working on a case, followed 
by the past three days of simple, stupid scheduling conflicts.  She 
looked him up and down, taking in the strong, lean lines of his body 
with a hungry eye, easily visualizing what lay beneath that expensive 
suit...she fidgeted in her seat, obscene scenarios racing through her 
mind in alarming detail.  She beckoned him with her finger, and he 
obeyed, not stopping until his face was inches from hers.  "Do you 
have any idea how much I want you right now?" she whispered.

He did a slight double-take at the abrupt change in atmosphere, 
then leaned over further to whisper into her ear.  The feel of his 
breath against her hair made her lightheaded.  "I have a very.  Good.  
Idea."  He nuzzled her ear discreetly.  "Your place?  Tonight?"

She managed to nod and find her voice, even though her mouth was 
suddenly as dry as the Sahara.  "Eight o'clock.  I'll make dinner."

"Dinner's not the only thing I'm looking forward to devouring," he said 
softly, making her shudder.

"Then don't be late."



****
"Dammit!"  Scully hissed and sucked on her thumb, glaring at the 
offending red-hot casserole dish.  She studied the piece of Corning 
Ware from a safe distance, trying to work up the guts to do what she 
knew had to be done.  She finally steeled herself for the inevitable 
and inched over to the dish, then peered in hesitantly.

It was bad.  Real bad.  She grabbed a fork, speared a piece of sausage, 
blew on it for a while, and popped it into her mouth.

Oh, god.

Who am I kidding? she wondered.  Paging Betty Crocker, Sara Lee, 
Aunt Jemima, *some*body...  She shot the casserole a final deadly 
look before she spit the chewed-up sausage into the garbage and 
reached for the phone, quickly ordering some pasta and salad from 
the Italian restaurant around the corner.  He'll never know the difference 
anyway, she reasoned.

Now, for the outfit.  That was something she could handle.  She strolled 
to the bedroom, whereupon she ransacked her closet for the ensemble 
she had in mind, then dressed very carefully.

"Not bad," she said, appraising herself in the mirror.  The nearly-sheer 
deep turquoise shirt showed the outline of her black bra, and the short 
black skirt barely concealed the edge of the black thigh-high stockings 
she wore.  Take that, Mulder, she thought, adjusting her bra straps.  
Before she left the bedroom, she checked to make sure the handcuffs 
were in place, in the top drawer of her nightstand.


****
Mulder was twenty minutes late, surprise, surprise.  At least he came 
bearing gifts, she told herself --  if a TV Guide and a bag of pretzels 
could be considered gifts, that is.  Well, when it came to Mulder, it was 
definitely the thought, and not the execution, that counted.  He did at 
least show proper appreciation for her outfit.  "Wow," he said, his eyes 
traveling slowly over her body.  He looked pretty delicious himself in 
jeans and a black sweater.

"You like?" she asked throatily, running her hands over her hips.

He answered by drawing her to him, claiming her mouth with his as 
one hand slipped underneath her skirt to trace the edge of the thigh-highs.

She returned the kiss eagerly, slightly amused by his directness, 
before pulling away.  "Dinner's getting cold."

"Who cares?" he murmured, nipping at her neck.

Her knees almost gave out, but she remained strong.  She had to 
stick to the Plan.  "Mulder, I spent all this time slaving over a hot stove.  
The least you can do is eat it."  She winced a little, realizing how much 
she sounded like her mother.

He groaned protestingly, but relented, releasing her.  "Okay.  I am pretty 
hungry."

"Good.  Let me just heat it up real quick."  She ran into the kitchen 
and popped the Italian takeout into the preheated oven.

"You got anything to drink?" he called from the living room.

She swallowed a smile, then took the carton out of the refrigerator, 
swiped two glasses from the cabinet and brought it all in to him, setting 
the container down on the dining room table with a loud thunk.  "Right 
here."

His eyes widened.  "A box, Scully?  Wine in a box?  How classy."

She arched an eyebrow at him.  "My friend Lorie had a party recently 
and wound up with a lot of leftover booze.  She pushed some of it off 
on me."  She opened the spout and poured a generous amount of wine 
into each glass.  "It's white zinfandel."

"Good enough."  He took one of the glasses from her and easily drained 
the contents, finishing up with a loud smacking of his lips and a satisfied 
grin.  "I have to admit, sometimes the cheap stuff sure goes down 
smooth," he said happily.

I'm counting on it, she thought.  Aloud, she said, "I'm glad it meets 
your high standards," and took her glass with her into the kitchen.

She emptied the wine immediately into the sink without tasting it, then 
turned her attention to taking the pasta dishes out of the oven.  She 
carefully scooped the pasta dishes out of their aluminum containers and 
onto two plates, and divvied the salad up into two wooden salad bowls.  
Just like homemade, she thought with satisfaction.

Dinner table talk was sparse.  Mulder shoveled food into his mouth, 
and Scully watched with a distaste unmitigated by the fact that his 
poor table manners were a familiar sight.	He did come up for air long 
enough to tell her the meal was delicious.  She accepted the compliment 
graciously, with only the slightest twinge of guilt.

Meanwhile, determined to keep things on track, Scully diligently refilled 
Mulder's wine glass every time the liquid level dropped below the halfway 
point.  She only took a sip or two from her own glass, although she did 
try to make it appear as if that weren't the case, lifting the glass to her 
mouth often.  She hoped he would be too busy eating and too buzzed 
to notice her subterfuge.

At one point, in between mouthfuls of food, he focused on her nearly 
full glass of wine.  Or tried to, anyway, bless his heart.  "Scully, aren't 
you gonna have more to drink?  This stuff is good."  He drained the rest 
of his glass and manipulated the spout on the box himself this time, 
albeit with clumsy fingers slightly numbed by booze.

"Oh, I've been drinking, Mulder.  This is my fourth glass," she lied.

""That's more like it," he said, grinning, goofy but cute.

Almost too easy...

When his eyes started to get glassy, she took the box and put it 
back in the refrigerator over his loud protests.  She wanted him tipsy 
enough so that his response time was dulled, not so drunk he couldn't 
get it up.  What a disaster that would be.  She shuddered.

"Mulder," she said when she returned to the dining room, deciding it 
was time to get the show on the road, "it's time for dessert."

He smiled a slow, fuzzy smile.  "That's the most appetizing thing I've 
heard all night."  He pulled her head down to him and kissed her, 
sloppily, but by that point Scully didn't care.

"Bedroom," she whispered against his lips.

He nodded and allowed her to lead him into the bedroom, stopping 
and pulling her close every few steps to kiss her again and again.  By 
the time they reached the bed, Mulder covering her body with his, 
Scully felt as if she were the one who had had too much to drink.  Her 
head swam and she sighed contentedly as Mulder ran his tongue up 
and down her neck and kneaded her breasts.  She slid her legs up 
and down against the rough fabric of his jeans, murmured his name.

"Scully..."  He responded by lifting her shirt, then tonguing her nipple 
through the lace bra with a tantalizing slowness.  Her breathing grew 
erratic as she let him do it, and it felt so good she almost lost track of 
her goal.  With an effort she forced herself to refocus, reminding herself 
that she had a lesson to teach.	Rolling Mulder over until he was beneath 
her, she set about kissing him hard, with a consuming fervor, so that he 
wouldn't notice her hand reaching over to the nightstand drawer and 
surreptitiously pulling out the handcuffs stored inside.  He slipped his 
hands under her skirt and returned the kiss vigorously, excited by the 
change in position.  She laid the handcuffs down on the bed next to 
her momentarily, then lifted Mulder's hands above his head, holding 
them against the headboard.  The action apparently turned him on, 
because his kisses became even more intense, more demanding.

Then, in a lightning-fast motion born of strength of purpose, she 
grabbed the cuffs with one hand while still holding his wrists with 
the other, and handcuffed him to the headboard, threading the chain 
around one of the convenient metal bars.  She smugly realized she 
had been right in her planning; Mulder was so stoned he didn't know 
what was happening until it was over.

"Huh?"  His eyes flew open, disorientation plain on his face.  He jerked 
on the cuffs a few times before he realized that he was stuck.

Scully smiled an evil smile.

"What are you doing?" he croaked.

"Turnabout is fair play, Mulder."  She traced his lips with her tongue 
before continuing.  "Or did you think I'd forget about that little trick 
you pulled with the belt from my robe?"

He furrowed his brow as he apparently tried to recollect the incident 
through the haze of his tipsiness.  She waited.  "But you liked that," 
he protested finally, rattling the cuffs.

"Oh, and you'll like this," she said quietly.  "I promise."

She lifted herself off of his lap, then, with an infinitely delicate touch, 
she unzipped his jeans, sliding them down his legs and onto the floor.  
When she repeated the procedure with his boxers, throwing them 
onto the floor and then caressing the strong muscles of his legs, he 
took a deep, audible breath.  She paused, looked at him inquisitively.

"You want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that," he spat out through gritted teeth.

"Good.  Because I want you to say a lot of things, Mulder," she purred, 
straddling his thighs, "but 'Stop' is definitely not one of them."

"I'll...do my best not to disappoint you."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't, Mulder," she said coolly.  "You haven't yet.  
Not in this arena, anyway."  She took his cock in her hands, stroked 
it with slender fingers, and was rewarded with a jerking of his hips that 
sent a thrill of excitement through her.  Bending over, she traced the 
head of his sex with her tongue very slowly, encouraged by his slight 
whimper at the contact.  She circled it once, twice, three times -- then 
stopped, lifting her head to gauge his reaction.  His eyes were shut 
tight.  "Should I keep going?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Tell me, Mulder.  Tell me what you want me to do."

"I want..."  His eyelids snapped open and he looked at her, his 
hazel eyes darkened with a sensuous fury.  "I want you to...to 
take me...in your mouth."

She laughed softly.  "Since when are you so hesitant, Mulder?  Is 
it because you're lying here helpless?  Because you know that I 
can do whatever I want to you?  Do you like it, Mulder?  Do you like 
not being in control?  You liked it when I was the helpless one."  
She hadn't released his cock while they talked, and now she began 
to apply pressure with her fingers, running them up and down along 
the shaft.  His breathing quickened, and the pleading in his eyes made 
her decide to take a little bit of pity on him.  Just a little.  She went 
down on him, taking him fully into her mouth, then came back up, slowly.  
A strangled sound escaped from him as she repeated the movement, 
and she closed her eyes for a while, enjoying the hot, salty taste of him 
as her mouth plunged down on him again and again.

When she sensed he was getting close to the brink, when he was 
squirming beneath her like a man enduring torture and uttering her 
name with an aching reverence, she lifted up her head.  "Do you like 
that, Mulder?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Do you want me to unlock the cuffs?  You don't want me to do that, 
do you?"

"No."  His hands were straining against the cuffs now, and she knew 
that more than anything he wanted to touch her, to hungrily attack her, 
even though at the same time he was excited beyond belief at being 
under her spell and enjoying the delicious anticipation of wondering 
what she would do next .  She knew because she'd been there.

She got up off of him, off of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked plaintively.

She slipped off her skirt, her panties, her shirt, leaving on only the 
bra, knowing she needed to wear it a little while longer, the tiny piece 
of metal pressed reassuringly against her breast.  When she was 
finished undressing, she straddled him again, this time grasping his 
cock and pressing the head  to the opening of her sex teasingly.  
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"I want you to make love to me," he said clearly, unfaltering.  She 
was impressed.

"Do you want me?" she whispered, gyrating her hips fractionally so 
that his cock brushed against her sex.

His eyes met hers.  "I want you more than anything.  I want...aah."  
He trailed off as she guided him inside of her, then slowly slid down 
on him until he was completely filling her.  But she didn't move.  She 
forced herself to stay still, despite the way his hips jerked up entreatingly, 
despite her own overwhelming need.

"Do you love me?"  She was taken aback for a moment by how pleading 
she sounded.  Damn.  Her heart had a tendency to put itself on display 
without warning....

"You know I do."

"Tell me."

"I love you."

That was all the response she needed.  Exhilarated, she began to move 
atop of him, taking him into her again and again, setting a rhythm that he 
skillfully matched with his hips.  She leaned over and kissed him, drinking 
him in, loving as always the feel of his tongue against hers, the heat of 
his mouth.  When she pulled back his voice was desperate, charged with 
a thousand different emotions.  "Let me go, Scully.  I want to touch you..."

She looked into his eyes and could not resist him.  She reluctantly 
ceased her undulations, then, reaching into her bra, she withdrew the 
small silver key and set about unlocking the handcuffs which held him 
securely to the headboard.  As the cuffs fell to the floor he sprang up, 
holding her firmly and taking her with him until he was kneeling, Scully 
straddling him, his cock sheathed within her.  With deliberate thrusts 
he pumped into her again, burying his hands in her hair, kissing her 
frantically.  She removed her bra and took his head in her hands, guiding 
him to her breast.  He eagerly latched onto a nipple and lingered there, 
nibbling, teasing, until Scully laughed softly from the sheer pleasure of it.

He eventually abandoned her breasts and began to ravage her neck, 
taking the soft skin into his mouth and sucking, biting, devouring her 
like a man possessed.  She tilted her head back as far as it would go, 
closing her eyes and moaning loudly.  "Mine," he whispered against 
her ear, speeding up his thrusts, taking her closer and closer to the edge.  
"Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou..."  His murmurs turned into a deep 
groan as he suddenly climaxed, emptying himself into her.

She cried out at the feel of him convulsing inside her, digging her 
nails into his shoulders, but had no further release.  Well, I guess 
maybe it's my own damn fault, getting him all riled up like that, she 
thought, disappointed.  She disengaged herself from him gingerly, 
then snuggled against his chest as he took her into his arms and 
planted soft kisses on her face, on her hair, on her shoulder, his 
hand running up and down her leg, her thigh, her hip, as if reassuring 
himself that she was actually there.  "You drive me crazy, Scully, 
you know that?" he asked.

She smiled against his skin.  "I do my best."

He propped himself up on one elbow so that their eyes met, and 
held her gaze for an endless moment as he visibly tried to verbalize 
the intensity coursing through him, a few strands of hair falling in 
his face.  "Scully, I --"

She pressed a finger to his lips.  "Don't.  Don't speak.  No more 
words, we've had enough words for tonight..."  She broke off as he 
stroked her between her legs, finding the right spot, causing her 
to arch up against him with a growl.

He laughed softly, then covered her mouth with his, kissing her 
thoroughly, his fingers continuing to work her as she wrapped her 
arms around his neck.  She moved her hips in concert with his hand, 
increasing the friction she was receiving from him.  She could feel 
the tension building inside of her, swirling through her abdomen and 
beyond, and when his free hand found her breast, fingering the nipple, 
she knew she couldn't hold out much longer.  Their lips parted and 
he pulled back slightly so that he could watch her, and knowing 
what he wanted to see she let herself go, riding the waves, her 
body spasming, her voice crying out wordless screams.

When it was over he took her in his arms once again.  She wrapped 
her legs around his and placed delicate kisses on his chest, loving 
the sensation of the two of them forming one body, intertwined, 
inseparable.

"Well, that was...educational," he said after a period of comfortable 
silence, absently running his hand over her hair.

She lifted her head from his chest slightly to look up at him.  "In 
what way, exactly?"

He smiled.  "Let's just say I've learned that I'd better not dish it 
out without expecting it back tenfold."

"You should have known that already."

"Oh, I did," he assured her.  "But I was getting tired of waiting for 
you to prove it to me."

"Kiss my ass," she snarled.

So he did just that.

End.

Summary: Mulder and Scully join the Mile High Club.

"Wine 7: Merlot" by Dianora  1/1  *NC17*

Well, I realize it's been =ages= since the last "Wine"
installment, but I'm afraid my X-Files muse has been
rather itinerant lately.  I've either been writing stories for
other fandoms or not writing at all, it seems.

Full credit for giving me the idea and inspiring me to write
a new "Wine" story goes to my new friend Dan, a.k.a.
NekoBus106.  Dan discovered my writing through my
Robotech stories, and turned out to be not only an XF fan
but a Shipper as well.  What luck!

Credit for "Merlot" as the choice of wine goes to my "old"
friend Nicole Perry. <eg>  Somehow I doubt this is the type of
scenario you had in mind, Nic, but that's just too bad.  Of
course, you gave me the Merlot idea so long ago you probably
don't even remember doing it, so I guess it doesn't matter... <g>

This is pure fluff and, as usual, contains explicit sexual material, so if
you're underage or easily offended, please go away.  All comments
and suggestions for future "Wine" stories to Dianora2@aol.com.
All of my stories as well as lots of fun links can be found at my
website: http://members.aol.com/dianora2/main.htm.

These characters do not belong to me, much to Chris Carter's relief.
No copyright infringement is intended, and if I was making any
money at all off of these, my stories would be a lot longer and
better written.  Heh heh.

I should also note that this is pretty much outside any show
continuity whatsoever.  Chris Carter would be proud.  <g>



"Where the hell is the flight attendant?" Scully asked for the fifth
time since they'd sat down.  She craned her head over the rows
of cramped coach seating in search of her polyester-suited savior.

"Scully, we haven't even left the ground yet," Mulder pointed
out.  He shifted in his seat, again, trying futilely to find a
comfortable position for his long legs.

She scowled as she watched him squirm.  It was a ritual he
repeated on every flight, on every case.  And it drove her
nuts every time.  Sometimes being short -- make that =petite= --
was a definite advantage, she mused with satisfaction.  She turned
away from him and stared straight ahead at the tray table in its
upright position.  "I need a drink."

"You never drink during a flight," he said in mild surprise.

"I do now."  The trendy flannel-wearing Gen X-er to her left
started up his Discman in direct violation of the no electronic
devices during take-off rule.  Anarchist.  The dissonant
clashing of what she could only assume was some generic
Seattle-based band filtered into the recycled air of the cabin.
Why did she =always= wind up with a middle seat?  The God
of Airplane Seating had it in for her.

"Are you still mad about before?" Mulder prodded with his
trademark oblivion.

"Well, give the man a degree in psychology," she murmured.
She clenched her jaw at the memory of their recent argument in the
middle of the Iowa City airport terminal, complete with unwelcome
bystander participation.  It had started as a standard disagreement
as to how the case they had just wrapped up should be described
in the case report, but it had quickly and stunningly degenerated
into a down-and-dirty fight that can only come as a result of
knowing each other entirely too well.

She loved the man, she really did, but every once in a while she wanted
to wrap her hands around his neck and =squeeze.=  Her fingers tapped
impatiently against her black linen skirt in time with the tinny grunge
sound next to her ear.  Finally, a flight attendant wearing a bright blue
suit of what could only be polyester strolled by, and Scully snagged
her.  "Can I get a glass of Merlot, please?"

"Me too," Mulder added.  Scully smirked.  He knew he was going
to need it.

The attractive brunette blinked her big brown eyes at them for a
moment and opened her mouth as if to protest any drinking before
the flight had even started, when her eyes met Scully's.  She closed her mouth
and smiled insincerely.  "Of course."

Moments later they had booze in hand, and Scully swallowed
gratefully, shuddering in delight as the warmth spread through her
chest.

"I can't believe you're still mad," Mulder said with obvious
annoyance.

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, not looking at him.
"Mulder, you called me.  A.  Tight.  Ass."

"It was the heat of the moment.  I didn't really mean it."

"Sure.  Fine.  Whatever."  He shot her a dirty look that she matched
wholeheartedly; then they lapsed into a tense silence.  Scully
finished off her glass of wine and started to look for the flight
attendant to get another one when she realized they were about
to take off.  Suppressing a frustrated sigh, she leaned back in her
seat as the plane increased in speed along the runway.  The grunge
music continued to rage on next to her, and she vaguely hoped it wouldn't
interfere with the radar of the plane and cause them to crash into the
tower.  Tight ass, the voice in her head sneered at her.  Kiss it, she
returned in kind.

She drew in her breath as the plane lifted effortlessly into the air and she
experienced the moment that came, now, with every flight, when she
remembered Max Fenig and every other passenger on Flight 549 and
prayed this wouldn't be her time to join them.  Once they stopped
climbing through the stratosphere and seemed to be cruising regularly,
she relaxed a bit and started searching once more for the flight attendant.
Mulder was studying the bottom of his wine glass like the MJ files
were inscribed on it.

The attendant was flagged down once more and ordered to bring them
another round.  The woman - whose name, Mulder took pains to
discover, was Mona - reluctantly complied, this time bringing them
each a small bottle in the obvious hope that they would leave her alone
for the rest of the flight.  They both snickered at her optimism.

Scully swirled the blood red liquid around in her glass and looked at
Mulder askance.  His legs were rudely flung out into the aisle and he
had his tray table down.  His fingers thumped rhythmically against the
hard plastic to some inner tune as he stared straight ahead with almost
childlike intensity, lost in thought.  His dark brown hair was mussed, but in a
just-got-out-of-bed-after-some-great-sex way, and his tie was loosened,
the first two buttons on his expensive white dress shirt undone.

A brief flashback to the night before flitted across her mind, down on
all fours on the bed as Mulder took her from behind in the dark, his
hands grasping her hips as he whispered her name and plunged into
her over and over.

God.  She shifted in her seat and drank some more.

The drumming fingers ceased.  "Scully."

"What."

"I'm sorry."

"Good."

"But you really are a tight ass."

She drew in her breath with a gasp, then slugged down the rest of the
small bottle of wine before dignifying his comment with a response.
"Go to hell, Mulder."  Oh, that's it, Dana, dazzle him with witty repartee.

He turned in his seat to face her, his eyes were sparkling
with some sort of misguided amusement.  "Well, a tight ass in a really
=wonderful= way."  He leaned in real close, lowered his voice to an
intimate timbre.  "I =love= your tight ass."

"Thanks," she said dryly.  She could feel the corners of her mouth
twitching, and cursed herself for her inability to stay angry with him.
But she knew that when it came to Mulder, she'd gotten as close to an apology
as she was likely to get.

He nudged her thigh with his.  "Forgive me?"  To top it off, he made
that lost little boy face that he =knew= simply got to her every time.

Instead of answering, she held up her glass of wine to the approaching
flight attendant.  "Another please?  In fact, make it two."  Mona made
a face, but nonetheless hurried to comply.  Scully furrowed her brow and
hoped she wasn't being =too= bitchy to the poor woman.

"You're putting that stuff away awful fast, Scully," Mulder said dubiously.
"You sure you're okay?"

"What's the matter, Mulder?  Surprised that a tight ass can drink so much?"
She accepted the fresh mini-bottle of wine from Mona with an overcompensatory
smile and opened it impatiently.  Her head felt as if it would float right off of her
neck.  The alcohol was working rather quickly.  Perhaps it
had something to do with the fact that she hadn't eaten anything that
morning and it was already noon.

"Just wondering why you seem so determined to drink your weight in
alcohol," he said.

"Because I have nothing better to do," she snapped.

He shook his head and laughed softly.  "Fine.  Well, you know what they
say, Scully, if you can't beat 'em..."  He signaled the beleagured Mona
and flashed her his best smile.

"Don't tell me =you= want more, too," she said.  She folded her arms across
her polyester-suited chest.

"Only if it's not too much trouble," he said, widening the smile.

She studied him for a moment, then smiled back.  "No trouble at all,"
she practically purred.

Scully rolled her eyes.  Un-be-lievable.

Another bottle of wine later, and they were both considerably more relaxed.
Mulder's legs were fully thrust into the aisle, and Mona, whose patience
was wearing a little thin, had to ask him more than once to put them back
under the seat in front of him.  Scully had discarded her suit jacket, and
sat comfortably in her skirt and cream-colored silk blouse.  Her head
occasionally lolled from side to side, but she convinced herself it had
something to do with the altitude.

"Scully."  Mulder's voice sounded in her ear, his breath stirring her hair.

"Yes?"  She tried to focus on him through the relaxing fog enveloping
her brain.

"I did say I was sorry, you know."  His hand moved to her thigh and began
tracing light circles through the fabric of her skirt.

She gulped.  "I know."

"So...when are you going to forgive me?"

Looking for make-up sex already, eh?  Her heart began pounding just
a little faster, and her hand involuntarily moved to her throat.  "How do
you suggest I go about doing that?" she asked.

His eyes bore into hers, and she realized he was not just teasing; he was
suddenly intense, focused, in that Mulder way.  She could smell the wine
on his breath when he spoke.  "Ever think about joining the Mile High
Club, Scully?"

Her mouth dried up, and she licked her lips nervously.  "You can't be
serious."  Her tingling nether regions screamed Yes! while the small,
tight-ass voice inside her squeaked an indignant protest.

"What's the matter?  Too...dangerous for you?"  His expression was
challenging now, daring her to prove his earlier remark true.

She cleared her throat and felt her eyelids flutter as if she were some
sort of swooning silent film star.  Her head now felt like it was expanding
like a hot air balloon, and she was entirely too flushed.  She swallowed
past the lump in her throat.  "I...no," she said lamely.  Her flushed
cheeks felt hot, so hot, and she wanted to tear his clothes off right then
and there, but beyond the alcohol-induced fervor and her inspired passion,
something kept holding her back,  that last Catholic school girl inhibition.

He grinned rakishly at her, genuinely amused at this point.  "Dana Scully,
I dare you -- I =double= dare you -- to join me in the bathroom of this
airplane."  He craned his head back to check the restroom status.
"One of them is free, right now."  His hand began traveling up under her
skirt, adding further inducement.

Now he was playing dirty.  A dare?  A =dare=?  What was this, showdown at
recess?  Hmph.

God, he knew her too well.

She met his gaze steadily, even though she was practically hyperventilating
at this point.  "I accept your dare, Agent Mulder."

"Okay then."  He stretched until she could hear joints popping, then rose
from his seat and began to hum a tuneless tune in a ridiculous attempt at
nonchalance.  She rolled her eyes and got up herself,  rotated her neck
around to loosen the muscles there.  The two of them strolled down the
length of the cabin, Scully, for her part, keeping her eyes rooted to
the floor.  Once at the door to the small bathroom, they looked up and
down the craft to make sure no one was watching them, then slipped inside,
shutting the door and locking it, illuminating the "Occupied" sign.

It was a standard airplane bathroom facility, with a small toilet, aluminum
sink, and little else.  The smell of disinfectant hung in the air, an almost
tangible presence.  It certainly didn't afford much in the way of atmosphere.

They just stood there for a moment, pressed up against each other, wondering
what to do next.  Scully could feel the laughter bubbling up inside of her,
and fought it valiantly, but as she tried to suppress a laugh a snort escaped
instead, and finally they both collapsed into undignified giggles,
holding onto each other for support.

"This has to be the craziest thing you've ever done," she said in between
laughs.

"Me?  You're in here too," Mulder pointed out laughingly, then grabbed
her shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers.  They kissed gently at
first, playfully, frequently coming up for air to let out a stray snicker or
giggle, but soon enough the humor deserted them utterly.  He pushed
her up against the sink and began unbuttoning her blouse with deft
fingers, exposing her skin to the antiseptic-scented air.  She exhaled harshly
into his mouth at the sensation of his warm fingers brushing against
her lace bra, reaching inside, taking a nipple between thumb and
forefinger.  He squeezed gently and she moaned, a moan of quiet
desperation and longing.  He pulledhis mouth off of hers and moved
to her neck, tasting and nibbling, whispering her name into her hair.

"Hurry," she gasped, losing her patience.  She unfastened his belt,
unzipping his fly, then grasping his now rigid sex, stroking
it expertly as he groaned.  The hot flesh pulsed beneath her fingertips and she
fought the urge to take him into her mouth right there - they simply didn't have
the time.  She made a mental note to make it up to him later.  His hands
traveled under her skirt and tugged at her pantyhose, and he pulled away
from her just long enough to slip them down and off of her.  When he stood
back up he took her head in his hands and kissed her again with an almost
frightening ardor.  She returned it fully, taking his tongue into her mouth
and sucking on it, scraping lightly with her teeth.  They just kissed, for
what seemed like forever, the hum of the fluorescent lighting and their
heightened breathing the only sounds in the tiny bathroom.  He tasted
of Merlot, heavy and deep.

Finally his hands moved down to her thighs and he entered her, slowly,
sinking into her with a strangled groan.  She wrapped
her hands around his neck to support herself as with sure,
measured strokes he began to thrust into her, easing in and out of her with
practiced ease.  She dug her heels into the backs of his thighs and moaned
softly.  Her hands tangled in his hair; his clasped the small of her back.
Their eyes met and he smiled at her, kissed the tip of her nose.

Existence narrowed to pure sensation.

The calluses on his fingertips against the soft flesh of her back.

Her flesh sheathing his.

The delicious friction as his cock slid in and out of her.

His breath hot against her neck.

His soft hair between her fingers.

The smell of his cologne, of his sweat, mixed with the
pungent smell of sex.

The way he looked at her.  Like he was drowning.

"So...good," he whispered against her ear, harsh, wet words.
She bit her lip and reached down to clutch his behind, a signal to speed
up the tempo.  He obeyed, as always, slamming her against the lip of the
tiny aluminum sink, running his mouth over her neck, her lips, her face.
They moaned in unison, a song of their own making, trying to stay quiet
and failing miserably.  With any luck the roar of the plane's engines would
drown them out.

Almost the instant she started to come he did too, the two of them convulsing,
jerking, burying their faces in each other's necks in an attempt to muffle
their involuntary cries.  Time crystallized as their bodies surrendered to
momentary oblivion.

When it was over the hum of the artificial lighting was deafening.
Everything seemed sharper, enhanced.  Razor-edged.

Scully breathed a ragged sigh as Mulder slipped out of her.  He slumped
against her, laid his head against her breast.  She placed a kiss on the top
of his head tenderly, with more than a hint of amusement.  "That was one
dare I'm glad I accepted," she said throatily against his hair.  He grunted
in contented agreement and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"We should get going," she whispered.  "We're lucky no one's pounded
on the door yet."

Mulder made a protesting sound deep in his throat, but reluctantly straightened
and started putting himself to rights.  Scully did the same, and they incurred a lot of
elbowing and accidental hitting as they tried to maneuver in the cramped space.

"Ready?" he asked when they both looked presentable.  She nodded.  He
kissed her briefly before he opened the door and poked his head out.  "I'll
go first, then you wait a beat and follow."

"Right."  One by one they strolled down the center aisle, careful not to move
too slow or too fast.  Scully barely resisted whistling a
nonchalant tune herself.  =Nothing to see here...=  She had a sneaking
suspicion their fellow passengers were staring, but forced herself to
chalk it up to paranoia.

They slipped back into their seats with nary a hitch.  Scully glanced at the
surly Gen X-er, who was now reading a "Preacher" comic book and mouthing
the words to whatever tune was blasting into his ears.  Lovely.  She sighed
and settled into her seat, smiling as Mulder went into his leg-manipulation ritual.

He looked over at her and grinned, sending a flush of heat straight down her
core and making her wonder how much time they had left until the plane landed.
It was going to be a long flight...

"Where did Mona go?" Mulder wondered.  "I  =really= worked up a thirst."

"I can't imagine how," Scully said, smiling.

As if on cue their favorite flight attendant materialized at Mulder's elbow.  "Are
you two enjoying your flight?" she asked archly, awaiting further orders.

Scully offered her a smirk.  "You have no idea."

End.

"Wine 8: Bartles & Jaymes" by Dianora    1/1  *NC17*
Finished 9/10/98

Category: S
Rating: NC17
Content: Explicit sex and dirty words
Keywords: MSR
Spoilers: Syzygy, Nisei, Piper Maru
Archive: Anywhere as long as my name is attached.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I sure have fun making them
do naughty things.
Summary: Mulder and Scully pass the time in a hot motel
room.  Yes, they do find a way to amuse themselves, and yes,
it is how you think.

I'm not sure, but I think it was MD1016 who came up with
the wine coolers concept.  Thanks MD!

Smut alert ahead.  Comments to Dianora2@aol.com.




A slow breeze meandered across the sweltering blacktop
and curled its way through the openings of Scully's t-shirt
and shorts, but provided little relief from the oppressive
summer evening air.  She could faintly see the shimmering
waves of heat radiating up off of the asphalt as she crossed
the parking lot to her motel room.  She was still pleased
that she'd managed to talk Mulder into letting her make the
run to the 7-Eleven: air conditioned car, air conditioned
convenience mart -- at least she had been able to get some
break from the heat.  Mulder was the sucker, staying behind
in their hotter-n-hell motel.

She still couldn't believe that the air conditioning had broken
down in a motel in Georgia, of all places, on a summer evening...
and naturally -- oh, how utterly naturally -- there wasn't a room
to be found anywhere else in town.  And they couldn't get a
flight out until the next morning.  Naturally.  Cursed by the
fates, mocked by the gods.

She hefted the brown paper bag in her arms and let out a
frustrated sigh.  No, trying to get to sleep tonight was not
going to be much fun.  She could only hope that the alcoholic
beverages in the sack she held would help the time to pass a
little bit easier.  They did have something to celebrate, after all:
the case had been solved, the bad guy had been caught, yadda
yadda yadda.  And no evidence of the paranormal in sight.
Thank god something was going right on this trip.

When she reached her room she let herself in, threw the
key and her pocketbook on her bed, and made her way into
Mulder's adjoining room.

"She's back," Mulder said in unnecessary color commentary.
He was spread out on the bed, clad only in an undershirt and
biker shorts, hands behind his head.

"And I'm just thrilled about it, too," she grumbled.  She set the
bag down on the dresser with a heavy clunk and wiped the
sweat off of her forehead with the back of her arm.  Gross.

"Hey, Scully?  Do you think there's someone in the world
whose only job is to buy paintings for hotel chains?" Mulder
wondered.

Scully pulled her sticky t-shirt away from her skin, not in the mood
for non sequitors.  "Probably."

"Well, if that's their only job, their whole career, all efforts focused
on that one task - wouldn't you think that he or she would be just
a little bit better at it?"

"Is there a point to this observation, or are you just jockeying
for Seinfeld's old job?" she asked dryly.

He smiled an innocent smile that didn't quite fit with the rest of
his expression.  "It's just that sometimes the most unsolvable
mysteries in life are also the most mundane."

She barely resisted a gratuitous eye-roll.  "That would explain your
predilection for porn.  Wait, never mind, the solution to that
mystery is all too obvious."

"Wanna provide me with a better alternative?" he asked, leering at her
affectionately.

She snorted in a manner unbecoming to Margaret Scully's youngest
daughter and pulled the wine coolers out of the bag.  "You're going to
have to get me drunk first."

"Oh, like =that's= going to be a problem."

She opened her mouth to make a snide retort, but he cut her off.
"Wine coolers?" he asked with disdain.  "All you could find was wine
coolers?"

"I did the best I could, Mulder.  It's Sunday.  No liquor stores open,
no supermarkets, nothing.  Just a 7-Eleven a few blocks over."

"They must have had beer."

"Only Schlitz, so I thought we'd pass.  Do you want one or not?"  She
held up a bottle of Bartles & Jaymes Premium.

"Yeah, it'll do."  He grabbed it from her and cracked it open with a
relish that belied his complaints.

She sat down on the edge of the bed.  He clinked his bottle with hers.
"To a case well-solved," he said.

"Amen."

Mulder adjusted himself into a more comfortable position on the bed,
plumping the pillows against the headboard and leaning into them with
a contented sigh.  She eyed him in wonderment.  He appeared to be
just as hot and sweaty as she was, but it hardly affected him.  Bastard.

Oblivious to her annoyance, Mulder studied the label on the cooler
bottle and began working at the edges with his nearly nonexistent
fingernail.  "You know, they say if you peel the label off the bottle
without ripping it, that it means you're getting laid that night."

"I know, Mulder.  I went to college, remember?"  She outlined the label
on her own bottle with one perfectly manicured nail.  Almost perfectly
manicured.  She'd need to go see Juanita when she got back to DC.

"So did it ever come true for you?"  He continued to work diligently,
not looking at her.

"Never," she said dismally.

"Figures."

"In fact, if I got it off, it was a sure sign that I =wouldn't= be getting laid
that evening," she continued, pursing her lips at the memory.  She
decided to leave her label alone, cupped the bottle between her hands
instead.

He spared her a glance and a brief smile.  "That's a sad story, Scully."

She took a long drink before replying.  "There's a dozen more where
that came from."

"I'll bet...hey, look."  He held up the intact cooler label, triumphant.  Not
a rip to be seen.

"You're a man of many talents," she said, unimpressed.

His eyes twinkled.  "Does that mean I'm getting laid later?"

"Not in this heat."

"Oh, we'll see about that."  He swigged noisily from the bottle.

"I suppose we will," she said back, and took a swig herself.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, finishing off their
bottles, then replacing them with fresh ones.  Every once in a while
a weak, stale breeze filtered through the screen window, but it
barely made a dent in the heavy heat.

God, it was just too hot.  Scully lifted the hair back from her neck and
placed the cold bottle against her skin, hoping for some relief.

"Scully?"  His voice sounded strangled.

She smiled.  "Yes, Mulder?"

He patted the spot on the bed next to him.  "Why don't you, uh,
come over here."  He pulled one of the pillows out from behind his
back and placed it by his side against the headboard.

She pretended to consider it, then took the place indicated, kicking
off her shoes and wiggling her toes.

"You have cute feet, Scully."

"Little feet."

"Hmm?"

"Little feet.  You know, the kind that can't reach the pedals," she
said tartly.

She could practically hear the rusty gears in his head turning.
"Comity," he said finally.

"Give the man a cigar," she retorted, taking a deep drink.  Man,
this stuff was good.  Who needed real liquor?  She got up and
retrieved a third bottle, went back to her spot on the bed, and
began chugging happily.

"Are you still pissed about that?"

She blinked.  "About what?"

"About Comity.  That was months ago."

"Of course I'm not."  Hmm, was that a lie?  She couldn't really
decide.

"I love your feet, Scully.  You have delicate feet.  Feminine feet."
He put his wine cooler down on the night table and flopped down on
his belly on the bed.  He began tracing her feet with his fingers,
over the balls of her feet, over the tip of each toe, studying her like
a freak of nature.

She squirmed.  "Mulder, that tickles."

"Sorry," he murmured, and she could feel his breath against her skin.
"Wouldn't want to tickle..."  And then his mouth closed over her toe.

Good god.  It was a hundred degrees out, and he wanted to pull a
Sid and Nancy routine?  His mouth was hot and wet and her feet
were all sweaty...  "Mulder."

He didn't respond, just kept sucking.

"Mulder!"

He lifted his head and looked at her inquisitively with puppy dog
eyes.

"It's just...it's just too hot," she said, hoping she sounded apologetic.

Hurt fluttered across his expression for a moment, but he recovered
quickly.  "We'll see about that," he whispered, and she was made wary
by the sudden gleam in his eyes.  He lifted himself up off of the bed
and snatched his room key from the dresser.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

"I'll be right back."  He grabbed the ice bucket and was gone.

Well, wonderful.  She hadn't offended him, had she?  It wasn't like
she didn't want him, and he sure as hell had to know that...she was
just so tired of sweating.

She wondered, from time to time, if she was being too bitchy to him.
If she took for granted his generally affable nature and ran right over
him.  If she was pushing the limits of just how much he could take.

And then, he'd pull something distinctly Mulderesque.  Jumping on
a train after she'd specifically told him not to leap.  Ditching her for
a bleached blond excuse for a cop.  Running off to Hong Kong without
explanation.

So maybe she needed to be a bitch from time to time, just to even the
karmic score.  Was that so wrong?

She was draining the remains of her third wine cooler when Mulder
returned, whistling absently, jingling his key, and bearing a bucket of
ice.

"What do you think you're doing with that?" she asked suspiciously.

"What do you think I'm doing with it?"  He knelt down beside her
on the floor by the bed and picked up the top cube on the pile, then
set the bucket back down on the floor.

"Mulder, give me a break, this isn't one of your cheap porno -"
She broke off and drew in a sharp breath when the ice cold touched
the bare skin of her leg.  "Oh my."

He trailed the cube up her shin, over her knee, up to her thigh,
with infinite slowness, showing exceptional concentration on his
task.  "Isn't that better?" he asked quietly.

"Mmm hmm."  The block of ice melted gently against her skin,
causing rivulets of water to run over each side of her thigh.  It
felt like heaven, ribbons of chill sluicing down her skin, pooling
in the crotch of her shorts.  She dropped her empty cooler bottle
onto the floor, then watched as he repeated the procedure on
her other leg, until the ice was completely gone.

"Need a refill."  He took another cube from the bucket and this
time applied it to her arm.  She obligingly held it out for him and
watched as he slid it up her forearm, and when he rested it in the
hollow over her elbow, her lips parted at the intensity of the
sensation.  "Had enough?" he asked.

"Not even close," she said breathlessly.

He smiled devilishly and held the ice cube just above her lips.
She licked them in anticipation, barely restraining herself from
flickering her tongue out to lap at the beckoning cold.  He took
mercy on her and lowered it to her skin, outlining her lips, slowly,
carefully, tracing the edges.  She opened her mouth and sucked
on it, sucked on his fingers that held the cube between her numbing
lips.  Her teeth burned at the shock of it.  He watched, mesmerized,
as she sucked on it until it was gone, and only his fingers remained.
She looked over at him questioningly.

He gently withdrew his fingers from her mouth and swallowed
hard.  "There's still more ice left, Scully."  He selected a third cube,
then pulled her shirt up to just underneath her breasts.  She hissed
when he placed the ice against the soft skin of her abdomen.

"Easy..."  He traced patterns on her skin, outlined her navel,
meandered up her rib cage, and she marveled at his heretofore
unseen artistic ability.  It felt like he was painting the damn Sistine
Chapel down there.

Finally, he pushed her shirt up over her breasts and unhooked the
front clasp of her bra.  The moisture between her legs was no longer
due to melted ice, that was for sure.  He pushed the lacy cups aside
and plucked a fresh cube from the bucket.

She tried not to, she really did, but she couldn't help but let out a low
moan when the ice came in contact with her nipple.  He rubbed it in
lazy circles on the hardened bud, then down the valley between her
breasts, then over to her other nipple, outlining it with a torturous
deliberation.

She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the pillow, smiling.  "I
have to admit, Mulder, this feels really, really good..."

He didn't answer.  And the next thing she felt was her nipple being
engulfed by his mouth.

Jesus.  Her eyes flew open and she bit her lip as she watched him
suckle there, circling the tip with his tongue, then drawing it again
into his mouth and sucking strongly, worrying it with his teeth.
The sensation sent prickles of electricity down her spine, down to
her core, and her clit twitched.  She smoothed the hair on the back of his
head; it was so soft beneath her fingertips...of course it was, the whole
trip he'd been stealing her shampoo...oh god.

He looked up at her drawn-out moan.  "Want to go back to the ice?"
he asked huskily.

Was he on drugs?  She just shook her head in answer.

"Suit yourself."  He cupped her other breast in his hand and pulled
the nipple over to him, flicking his tongue over the hard pink bud,
and her hold on his hair tightened.  His free hand began to make its
way down the waistband of her shorts.  Soon soon soon...she sighed
happily when his hand snaked inside her panties.  His expert fingers
found the right spot instantly, and her hips bucked beneath him.

"God, Mulder..."  His mouth was moving from one breast to the
other now, tasting, sampling each nipple before moving back to its
mate.  It was driving her insane, and making her sweat, and she didn't
even care any more.

He slipped a finger inside of her, making her gasp.  "What, Scully?"
he murmured lazily, his mouth pausing only a moment before resuming
its sensuous work on her nipples.

She squirmed beneath him.  "More," she managed to spit out.

"Hmm."  He bit one of her nipples, making her yelp.

"The lady wants more."  He withdrew his fingers from her, making
her scowl.

"What can we do about that?"  He roughly pulled her shorts and
panties down her legs and off of her, making her hiss with anticipation.

Crack.  That was it.  He was definitely on crack.  "You're full of stupid
questions tonight, aren't you?" she muttered.  "C'mere."  She sat up
on the bed and tugged at his arm, signaling that she wanted him to
join her.  He eagerly complied, crawling up onto the bed beside her,
but was quickly taken aback when she pushed him down onto his back
and sat on his chest, all before he could even protest.  Nevertheless, his
eyes gleamed with an excitement he couldn't conceal.

She discarded her t-shirt and already-half-discarded bra, gave him
a second to get a good look.  Then: "I'll show you what you can do
about it," she said, and straddled his face with her thighs.

The second she eased down on top of him his tongue flickered out to
taste her, and she let out a strangled groan.  Oh yes.  Much better.
Mulder cupped her ass, pulling her even closer, placing his mouth full
on her, sending a thousand bolts of delicious electricity coursing through
her and making her a very, very happy Scully.

With one hand she held on to the headboard so that she wouldn't lose
her balance; with the other, she began kneading her left breast,
squeezing the nipple, hard, the way she liked it.  She gyrated leisurely
against Mulder's face, the wet, hungry sounds of his eating her and their
heightened breathing momentarily the only noise in the room.

"Ah...just like that," she told him, urging him on.  "Just like that, so good..."
One of his hands reached up to toy with her right breast, wrenching the
nipple, and the combination of that and his tongue fucking her, moving in
and out of her with a steady rhythm, was almost enough to send her overboard
right then and there.  She looked down at him, saw that his darkened eyes
were open, watching her intently.  That's right, Mulder liked to watch.  She
decided to give him a show, tilting her head back, letting her mouth fall
open, licking her lips as she moaned, louder and louder, calling his name.
Her hand clenched the headboard as he took her clit in between his teeth
and sucked strongly.  He nibbled and sucked and pulled on it until finally
she went crashing over the cliff, convulsing against his face, her body
wracked with shudder after shudder as she let out a series of high-pitched
sighs.

When the contractions died down she slithered down his body and
collapsed on top of him, her head falling against his chest.  He ran his
hands up and down her bare back and made contented sounds deep in
his throat.  After a moment she leaned up to kiss him, flinched when
she saw how wet his face had gotten.  "Sorry about that," she chuckled,
pulling up the bottom of his undershirt to wipe his mouth off with it.

"Hazards of the job," he said good-naturedly.  He pulled the shirt away
from her and kissed her instead, reaching up to bury his fingers in her hair.
They kissed long and slow, their tongues dueling playfully, drinking each
other in with practiced fervor.  The heat had suddenly become a turn-on
for Scully, heightening her senses.  She loved the feel of his hot, slick skin
against hers, the way the tepid breeze through the window played against
her heated body.

Damn, the man was good.

"Get up," he whispered when their lips parted.  She raised an
eyebrow at his commanding tone, but rolled off of him, willing to see
where he would take her.  He got up off the bed and discarded his
clothes, quickly and methodically, while she lay back down on the bed,
watching him.  When he was naked, she reached out to grab his sex, but
he stopped her.  "Turn over."

She looked up at him, and could only nod in response to the stormy desire
reflected in his eyes.  Excitement twisted its way down her body, pooling
between her legs, and she smiled in anticipation.  She obediently turned
herself over, raising herself up on her hands and knees, feeling her heart
quicken as he got up on the bed and positioned himself behind her.
His hands grasped her hips and pulled her closer to him, and then he
slowly slid into her with a choked intake of breath, filling her completely.
Thick and solid and hot.

"Jesus, Mulder," she whispered, gripping the pillow in front of her.

He pulled out once, then slid back in, pushing her forward slightly.
She bowed her head and looked down at the tacky pattern on the
bed sheets and silently begged him to get on with it.

In and out again, and she heard a low moan rip from her own throat.
Again, and again, and again, and now he was starting to grunt with
the effort of plunging into her, and the primal, guttural sounds only
added to her arousal.

Sweet, hot friction, almost painful in its fullness.  She strained up
toward him, trying to take him deeper inside of her.  He kept one
hand firmly on her hip and with the other reached forward to cup
her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers with such expertise
that she let out an exclamation of admiration.  His body was
covering her now, his breath hot against her hair, his moans so
close to her ear, his groin slapping against her ass over and over
as he thrust steadily into her in a maddeningly wonderful rhythm.
She bit down on her lower lip and clenched the pillow under her
hand, moving with him, panting with the effort of it.

"I'm gonna come, Scully," he whispered harshly, his hips bucking
almost uncontrollably now, harder and faster.  "I can't stop..."

"It's okay," she said.  Her voice sounded thick and deep.  "Let it
go, come inside me..."

He responded by pumping into her even faster, if that were possible,
and moving his hand from her breast down to her clit, stroking her
madly, desperately trying to take her with him.  She reared back up
against him as he gushed into her, and the hot explosion of it felt so
good and then he wrenched her clit with his fingers and "Oh god oh
god Mulder I'm coming too..." and  just as he was finished she started,
coming again and again as sparks went off behind her eyelids and a
scream ripped from her soul as she convulsed against him.

They collapsed down on to the bed at the same time, side by side.
They were both panting heavily, trying to catch their breath, and Scully
didn't think she had ever been so drenched in sweat.  He wrapped his
arms around her, spooning her, and the sweat on their bodies mingled,
slick on their skin.  He took a handful of her hair and pulled it away from
her neck, then pressed a tender kiss there, its gentleness at odds with their
recent animalistic coupling.  "I'm shaking," he murmured into her ear.

"Me too."  Her limbs felt rubbery, her head like cotton, and it wasn't
just from the heat.

"Still too hot?" he whispered playfully.

She chuckled and laced her fingers through his.  "Yes.  But at least
now I'm hot and satisfied."

"Mmm, me too."  He kissed her shoulder, drew the skin between his
teeth and nipped her gently.  "Hey, Scully?"

"Yeah?"  She closed her eyes, feeling herself beginning to drift off to
sleep.

"I am sorry, you know.  About the feet thing.  Comity."

She smiled and squeezed his hand.  "Does this mean I have to drive to
the airport tomorrow?"

"No."  He kissed her hair.  "You just have to keep driving me crazy."

She groaned at the bad joke, and he chuckled self-deprecatingly into
her ear.  "Mulder, you were crazy before I ever met you."

"Yeah.  Lonely too."

Unexpected tears pricked her eyes.  "So was I, Mulder.  So was I."

His arms tightened around her as she finally fell asleep.

End.

"Wine 9: Beaujolais Nouveau" by Dianora 1/1 NC17
Finished 12/29/98


Category: S
Rating: NC17 for sex
Keywords: MSR
Spoilers: Beyond the Sea, I guess.  References to people and
places from Lazarus, Jersey Devil, and Talitha Cumi.  Takes
place any time post-third season.
Disclaimer: If I really owned them would I be writing this garbage?
Summary: The usual summary for this series: alcohol consumption
and sex.  Pure mind candy with little redeeming social value.
Comments: Dianora2@aol.com
Visit me at http://members.aol.com/dianora2/main.htm

As usual, I'm supposed to be writing something else, so I felt the
need to write smut as a distraction.  I suppose there are worse ways
to get sidelined... <g>




Scully sat on the edge of the weather-beaten wooden dock and watched
her feet as they dangled above the water, her toes wiggling delightedly
in the lazy, cool breeze off the lake.  The heat from the late afternoon
sun bathed her skin without warming it overmuch; and she had hopefully
slathered on enough sunblock that a burn wasn't in the forecast.  She
frowned at the memory of her last serious sunburn -- she'd been pink
for so long that she'd still been sporting a slight flush around Halloween.
The wonderful people at Coppertone were going to prevent a reprise
of that little performance, thank you very much.

She took in a deep breath of freshwater air and let it out with a satisfied
sigh.  Not even sunset and she was already immersed in a lovely alcoholic
haze, thanks to the red wine she and Mulder had been drinking steadily
throughout the afternoon.  Her questionable culinary sensibilities were
aware that red wine wasn't the ideal choice for the middle of a sunny day,
with no food as an accompaniment; but Jack Willis had been the one to
drill it into her that when the Beaujolais Nouveau comes in to the stores,
you have to grab the moment, and so she and Mulder had loaded up at
a trip to the local liquor store earlier that day.  Besides, she told herself
unconvincingly, everyone knows that red wine is good for your heart --
why, she could write the whole venture off as a health benefit.

She checked to make sure her breasts were still snug inside the black
halter-style bikini top that was on loan from her friend Ellen, tugged at
the uppermost edges of the cups, and marveled yet again that she was
sitting around in a bathingsuit at the beginning of December.  Amazing 
that Ellen had offered them the use of her and her husband's summer 
home in South Carolina for the weekend -- a summer home with a 
private dock and boathouse, no less.  Turning her down would have 
been an even dumber mistake than the kind she was all too often 
accused of making these days.  The kind that inevitably involved her 
partner/lover/best friend/whatever the hell he was at the moment.

Time to face facts: sun poisoning, a bloated liver -- these were acceptable
risks for the chance to spend a weekend alone with Mulder.  A warm, glorious,
work-free, stress-free, water-sport-filled weekend.  She bit her lip in
remembrance of the night before, making love in the water, the moonlight
glowing on their pale skin, holding onto one of the dock's support pillars
as Mulder drove into her over and over, her sharp moans dissipating
into the dark.

Dana, you are lost.  Completely, utterly, irrevocably.  Congratulations; you
have passed Go, collected your $200, and are well on your way to
permanent co-dependent insanity.

Did Hallmark have a card for that?

Footsteps sounded on the wooden planks.  "The second bottle's gone."

She covered her eyes with her hand and peered up at Mulder as he handed
her a fresh glass of Georges Deboeuf.  She was still disappointed he hadn't
elected to walk around in his Speedo today; he instead sported a gray t-shirt
and denim shorts.  "We have three more left, don't we?"

He shrugged and sat down beside her on the dock.  "Just giving you an
update."

She nodded approval and took a healthy sip of red wine as the two
of them looked out at the water in companionable silence.  It was a semi-
private lake, and as such there was little to no nautical traffic; only the
occasional sailboat or speedboat pierced the quiet that hung over the lake,
and even those were few and far between.  Lush green trees framed the
edges of the water and scattered wildflowers littered the low surrounding
hills with bursts of color and fragrance.  The utter placidity of it all added
to the feeling Scully had been having all weekend that she and Mulder
were more alone than they had ever been.  Alone but together, she
amended.

"What are you thinking?" Mulder prodded after a while, never one to let
the silence linger for too long.

"That it feels like we're the only two people left in the world," she answered
truthfully.  She turned to look at him.  "And that I like it."

He grinned.  "So you wouldn't have a problem with a radioactive comet
wiping out the rest of the population, is what you're saying."

She tried not to think about the fact that the way he squinted into the sun
as he regarded her was ridiculously adorable.  "No, that's not what I said.
I think if that were to happen, I'd get pretty sick of you after a while."

He nodded, not surprised.  "The feeling's mutual, Scully."

"Always the sweet-talker, aren't you."  She took another long swallow
of wine, noting with medical detachment that her buzz had kicked up a
notch.  "Actually, Mulder, I was thinking about how disappointed I am
that you're not modeling your red Speedo for me today.  You wore it
swimming yesterday, but now..."  She trailed off and returned to her
wine, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the fuzziness enveloping
her brain.

He bit out a short laugh.  "You have got to be kidding me."

She shook her head vigorously.  "I'm not.  I feel deprived.  Am I suddenly
not Speedo-worthy?" she pouted, noting that the only time she ever pouted
was when she'd had too much to drink.  Another glass and she'd
start the giggling.

"You don't strike me as the type who goes for that sort of thing, Scully.
I pictured you as more of a standard, uh, what do you call 'em...trunks
type."  He drank heavily from his glass and smacked his lips in
appreciation.  His full, sensuous lips...hold on there, Dana.

"I am, actually," she said, recovering from her erotic reverie.  "But I have
been known to make allowances in certain cases.  Ex-shep...exceptional
cases." She stared pointedly at his crotch and was perversely pleased
when he looked embarrassed.  "Besides, who're you calling 'standard?'"

"Nobody," he mumbled, staring down at his glass.  Alcohol had a tendency
to dull his wit just a little.

She grinned at his discomfort and went back to watching the cool breeze
play off the surface of the lake, giving rise to gentle ripples that danced up
and down along the water.  "Does this place remind you of Quonick...Quono..
Rhode Island?" she asked.

"No."  Abrupt, curt, and she decided not to press the issue.

"It reminds me of this place we lived once," she said instead, diverting
the topic.  "It was somewhere in Virginia, I don't even remember where --
I was only around five at the time.  But my dad used to take us sailing
just about every weekend until we had to move."  She frowned as she
remembered that was also around the time her dad had taken to calling
Bill Skipper.  Good lord.  Did that make her Gilligan?

"Must've been nice," Mulder said neutrally.

"It was.  Too bad Ellen and Rob already drydocked their boat for the
season."

"'S probably just as well.  I'm a landlubber, r'member?" he said, making
weird gestures with his hands that she assumed were meant to represent
waves.

He's starting to slur his words already, she thought; maybe he's
had more to drink than I thought.  She suppressed a snicker.  "Point
taken."

They sat in silence again, until Mulder took a deep breath and let
it out in a rush.  "D'you...d'you think your dad would've liked me,
Scully?  Even if I am a landlubber?"he added, trying to inject
lightness into his query.  It didn't quite work.

God.  She took a deep swallow of wine in an attempt to dislodge the
sudden lump in her throat.  "Yeah," she said when she trusted herself
to speak.  "He wouldn't be crazy about the effect your work has had
on my life, or the danger it puts me in," she said honestly, "but he would
have known that you're a good man, Mulder.  I think...I think you would
have liked each other."

Silence as he digested this information, then: "Thanks," he said softly.
She smiled at him, and he smiled right back.  Her stomach did an
Olympic-level somersault.

He reached up to caress her bare back, moved by the moment, but
she stiffened and stifled a yelp at his touch.

"What is it?"

"I must have missed a spot on my back with the sunblock," she said.
"Hurt like a bitch when you touched it."

"Sorry," he murmured.  "Want me to put some more on for you?"

"Please," she said gratefully.  He drained the rest of his glass, then
let out a low grunt as he stood, cursing the effect the wine was having
on his coordination.  But he recovered with aplomb and snatched up
the tube of Coppertone that rested on the towel at her side, then seated
himself behind her, his legs framing her own, warm and hairy and scratchy.
The lotion he began to apply was blessedly cool against her hot skin, and
she let out a satisfied sigh.

"Feel good?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm."  His fingers finished covering the afflicted area with sunblock,
then ventured to other parts of her back, digging into her shoulders, her neck,
but careful not to touch the section that had just been bothering her.  What
had she done to deserve a backrub?  She'd have to think of an appropriate
form of thanks later.  The heels of his palms massaged her shoulder blades,
and she couldn't help the small, high-pitched moan that meandered its way
past her lips.

In response to her obvious pleasure he lowered his mouth to her neck, tongue
flickering against her skin, and this time the moan that escaped her throat was
long and low.  "Mulder..."  She inclined her neck, giving him better access.
His breath was hot against her hair.

He whispered her name and brought his hands around to her front, reaching
up to cup her breasts.  He teased her nipples through the thin, slick fabric of
the bikini, and they hardened almost immediately.  She set her now empty
wine glass down beside her, closed her eyes, and gave in to the sensation,
at least for the moment.  He began kneading her breasts with gusto, palming
them fully, his mouth and tongue still working against her neck, her earlobe.
"You taste like cocoa butter," he whispered.

His words brought her back to reality somewhat.  "Mulder...this isn't the
place for this..." she managed to gasp.  Last night had been different,
they'd had the cover of darkness and been submerged in the water, but
this...this...Sister Mary Ernestine would have a cow.  And why the hell
did her ninth grade religion teacher still insist on popping into her head
at the worst possible moment?  She growled at the intrusion.

"Shhh."  His lips were right against her ear, and she shivered at his low hiss.
"There's no one here to see us, Scully.  Just relax."  And with that he untied
the string around her neck, and the string around her back, and removed her
bikini top, throwing it somewhere behind him.

Oh my god, she had the presence of mind to think, and then Mulder
squeezed her nipples with his fingers.  She reared back up against him.
"Does the sun feel good against your breasts, Scully?" he asked in a
deep voice roughened by desire.

It actually felt amazing: the heat from the sun, the cool breeze off the water,
and the attention of Mulder's thumbs and forefingers all combined to form
an unusual sensory experience.  But she settled for a simple, "Yes."

"Good."  She almost cursed when he pulled his hands from her breasts, but
changed her mind when he immediately moved from behind her and gently
lay her down on the deck.  The warm wood was harsh against her back,
but she didn't complain, especially not when he lowered his mouth to one
breast, taking the nipple in between his teeth.

"God, Mulder..."  She smoothed his hair with her hand as she watched him
suckle her, and had to admit it was a lovely sight.  His eyes were closed in
concentration, and the vision of his tongue darting out of his mouth to circle
her marbleized pink nipple was nearly enough to send her right over the edge.
She rested her head back on the deck and closed her eyes, the sun searing
her eyelids, and realized that she could quite possibly be happy doing nothing
but this for the rest of her life.  "That's right, just like that," she said breathily,
urging him to please god don't stop.  Little currents of electricity raced down
her body, from her nipples straight to her clit, and she writhed indelicately
beneath him in rapture.

He moved his mouth from her left breast to her right, as if that one might
taste differently, and worried the bud with his teeth, nibbling hard enough
that she let out an aroused moan: a mixture of pleasure and pain.  She
grabbed at the hem of his shirt, and he paused long enough to raise himself
up and lift the shirt up over his head before bending back down to what he
was doing.  She ran her hands up and down the strong planes of his bare
back, loving the way the muscles bunched beneath her fingertips.  His
right hand suddenly slipped underneath the bottom of her bikini, and her
hips bucked against him as he began to caress her there, his mouth
continuing to work at her breast.  She moaned his name and moved her
hips in time to his hand, still clutching at his strong, firm back.  He smelled
of sweat and booze and laundry detergent and she breathed it in deeply,
breathed him in.

When he finally lifted himself up to kiss her on the mouth, cradling her
face with his hands, she took the opportunity to push him up and over,
flipping him onto his back so that she now straddled him.  Despite his
surprise they didn't even break the kiss; she buried her hands in his hair and
they continued to go at it like teenagers in heat.  She sucked strongly on
his tongue, using her own to outline the contours of his mouth, tasting
the tang of wine and the saltiness of the sunflower seeds he'd been eating
throughout the day.  His hands found her breasts again -- he was fixated
on them today, apparently -- and cupped them reverently, her nipples
grazing his palms.

"This is crazy," she whispered when they came up for air.  "It's the middle
of the day, anyone could see us --"

"No one's going to see us," Mulder assured her, reaching up to caress her
cheek.  "And even if they do -- who cares?"

"I --"  She paused; she'd been ready to offer up an automatic protest, but the
more she thought about it, the less she cared.  Take that, Sister Ernestine.

Damn.  There she went again.  "I...."

"I want to be inside you," Mulder rasped, cutting her off.  "Right now,
Scully." He thrusted up against her in emphasis, and she gasped at the
feel of his hard cock through the denim of his shorts.

She nodded, losing any inclination to argue, and rolled off of him just
long enough to shimmy out of her bikini bottom, then took great pleasure
in undoing his shorts and sliding them down the length of his long legs.
When she was finished she hooked her leg back over his waist and
looked down at him as she sat mounted there -- his hazel eyes
squinting against the sun, his dark sweaty hair close against his scalp,
and his obscenely sexy lips fuller than usual, bruised by her kisses.
She rubbed herself along the length of his cock, razing her clit with it,
and his hips rose of their own volition.  "You want this long and slow,
or hard and fast?" she asked conversationally, hovering over him,
her hair partially obscuring her view.

"Long and slow," he said without hesitation.  His hands rested on her
hips, tracing the curve of them, and she suppressed a shiver.  "Take
your time.  I want to watch you for as long as possible."

She thought of pointing out that the length of time this would take was more
dependent on him than on her, but figured some things were better left unsaid.
Instead she gently grasped his cock and guided it inside of her, settling
herself down on him, taking her time about it, letting gravity do the bulk of
the work.  When he filled her completely she let out a satisfied sigh and
ran her hands up and down his chest.  "Feels nice," she said needlessly.

"I should hope so," he said in a strangled voice.

She could sense that it was taking all of his will power not to start thrusting
up madly into her, and had to appreciate his restraint.  She lifted herself up
a few inches, then slid slowly back down on him, and was gratified by his
low groan.  Oh yes, long and slow was just what the doctor ordered...
She plunged up and down on him again, and this time he reached up to
cup her breasts, but he didn't knead them; just ran his thumbs over them with
a feathery touch.  She covered his hands with her own and began to set a
slow but steady rhythm atop of him, fancying that it was in time to the gentle
lapping of the water against the dock.  His breathing grew quicker, louder,
at odds with their peaceful surroundings, which in a strange way only made
it that much more arousing.

"Is this good?" she whispered.

"Perfect," he said, then let out a small moan as she undulated again.
"Yeah, that's perfect, keep going just like that..."  As promised, his eyes
never left her, her face, her body, taking her in with an intensity that
unnerved and turned her on all the same time.

"You like what you see?" she couldn't help but tease.

He nodded.  "You're so beautiful, Scully.  So unbelievably fucking
beautiful."  He reached up to touch her face to emphasize the statement.

She smiled brightly at him, taken aback by his fervor, and leaned over
to give him a quick thank-you kiss before speeding up her movements,
just a touch, just enough to make him gasp her name and jerk up beneath
her.  His hands were all over her now, her breasts, her hips, her back,
her behind, touching her everywhere he could reach, his touch like fire against
her warmed, now slick skin.  The sun continued to beat down on her and
in the back of her mind she hoped she wasn't sweating off all of the sunblock
she had so assiduously applied.  But then another wave of pleasure took
hold of her and she surrendered to pure sensation.  Fuck the sunblock.

They were both moaning and grunting by this point, straining with the
effort of their lovemaking, but neither of them made a move toward
increasing the pace much more than they had already.  Scully continued
to ride him leisurely, occasionally pulling her hair up off of her neck and
letting the mild breeze dry the sweat there.  When Mulder pulled her down
to him to take a nipple into his mouth, she only allowed him to suckle
there briefly before rising back up.

"You keep that up and...I won't last much longer," she panted.

"I'm not sure I can last too much longer anyway," he bit out.  "You feel
so good, Scully, I can't stand it..."

She adjusted her body, trying to take him in even deeper, and he
groaned loudly.  "How good do I feel, Mulder?"

"There aren't enough words in the dictionary...God!"

She grinned and upped the tempo again, finally, feeling a rising
urge toward completion building low in her abdomen, and he responded
in kind, matching his movements with hers, his breathing growing
more labored by the second, sweat coating his body as well.  They
were both consumed by it now, panting, moaning, touching each
other all over, moving up and down at an increasingly driven pace, and
when the sound of a speedboat cut through the silence they didn't even
pause, didn't reduce their joining together again and again and again.

Apparently deciding he'd had about as much as he could take, Mulder
moved his hand down to her clit and began stroking her purposefully,
encouraging her to come with a steady stream of quiet exhortations
that made him sound like some sort of x-rated auctioneer.  "Come Scully
come come come for me Scully let me watch you Scully come on..."
Scully closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of his cock inside her, of
his fingers stroking her, of the sun beating against her back, the breeze
caressing her skin, until finally

"Yes oh god Mulder Mulder Mulder god --"

and just as her body ceased its shaking and her limbs turned to rubber
and she wondered if she would have the strength to keep rocking atop
of him, he groaned long and low and deep and gushed into her, the hot
stream of it bathing her insides and trickling down her thighs.

They stayed where they were for a moment, speechless, until Scully
gently disengaged from him and tumbled down beside him, the wood of
the dock banging against her shoulder.  "Ouch," she muttered.

"You okay?" he asked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."  She sidled up against him, throwing one arm over his
abdomen, and kissed his warm skin with multiple tiny kisses up and
down the length of his chest.

"That was pretty fantastic," he said, squeezing her possessively.

"Mmm.  Were you watching me the whole time?" she asked.

"I said I would.  Best show in town."

"Yeah, it's a little known fact that I turned down a lucrative career in the
porn industry to become a medical doctor."

He traced elaborate patterns on her lower back with his fingertips,
occasionally straying down to the soft flesh of her behind.  "Well, if you
ever decide to reconsider, I bet you could make the big bucks.  I know
what I'm talking about."

"I'll take that under advisement, seeing as how you're an expert in the
field."  She yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Tired?"

"I did just get a workout," she pointed out defensively.  And drank a
bottle of wine this afternoon, but that's another story...

"Maybe a swim will wake you up?"

She raised herself up on one elbow to look down at him.  "We do have
to get washed off anyway," he continued, cajoling her.  Or bending
her to his will, depending on how you looked at it.

But he did have a point, although the questionable waters of the lake
weren't exactly what she'd had in mind as a post-sex cleanup.  And
her sunblock was waterproof, or so the label claimed...before she
could change her mind she hopped up and bolted to the edge of the
deck, then dove off the side.  Anything to keep him on his toes.

The cold water was bracing but invigorating, and she let out an energized
whoop, seconds before Mulder barreled into the water next to her, splashing
her with a tidal wave and getting water up her nose.  "Jesus, Mulder!" she
yelled, the sound of her voice seeming to bounce off the very surface of
the lake and knocking around in the still air until it finally dissipated.  Maybe
they really were alone in the world.  Then she remembered the speedboat
she'd heard while they were having sex, and reconsidered.  They must've
gotten a hell of a show, she thought ruefully.  Porn star indeed.

Mulder resurfaced and slicked his hair back off his forehead, grinning like a
little kid.  "Sorry," he said in a tone of voice that indicated he was anything
but.

She splashed him half-heartedly and gave him a dirty look.  "Jerk."

The two of them swam around for a while, enjoying the whole skinny
dipping conceit, Scully doing the crab and Mulder freestyling it, until
they rendezvoused some distance from shore, coming together in an
embrace, wrapping their arms around each other firmly.  Mulder kissed
the tip of her nose.  "Awake yet?"

She nodded and nibbled on his earlobe in answer.  He moaned softly and
squeezed her tighter, digging his fingers into her skin.  "Keep that up and
we're going to have to go for round two," he warned.

Promises, promises...was it possible to give someone a blowjob underwater?
It would only be until she ran out of air, obviously, but...in the interest of
scientific research she pulled out of his embrace and submerged, grateful
that the lake was clear enough to be able to see in the water.  She found
her target immediately and took him into her mouth, holding on to his ass
for support as she ran her tongue up and down the length of him vigorously,
careful not to actually suck -- no point in taking in lake water -- until
she thought her lungs would burst.  She broke the surface of the lake with
a gasp, fighting for air, but Mulder cut her off almost immediately, ramming
his tongue down her throat and burying his fingers in her hair, devouring
her with an urgency that ran counterpoint to their previous recreation.
They kissed long and hard, pressed up against each other, hands
conducting erotic explorations, until by unspoken agreement they
broke apart and headed for shore.

This time they ran straight into the house, leaving their clothes out on
the dock, not stopping until they reached the air-conditioned, Laura
Ashley-fied bedroom.  The second Scully lay down on the four-poster
bed Mulder pounced on her, spreading her legs and assaulting her
with his tongue and teeth until she was gyrating against him, pulling
on his hair, squeezing his head with her thighs.  He reached underneath
her to cup her ass, pulling him closer to her, sucking on her with such
abandon that she had a feeling she'd be raw come morning.  Not that
she cared at the moment.  She cried out his name and bucked beneath
him, driven half-mad by the sensation of her clit being teased by his
tongue, and when a shattering orgasm overtook her she could almost
believe that they really were the last two people on earth, crying out
defiant pleasure into the silence.


End.