From: "Shannon" To: "whispers list" Subject: [XFNC17ff] NEW: C'mere, Baby, MSR, NC-17, 1/2 Date: Tuesday, February 26, 2002 10:25 PM C'mere, Baby by Shannon Kizzia (lmelao@earthlink.net) Websites: For everything I do: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xtasy/shannon.html For a great big helping of my MSR: http://www.kimpart.com/shannonkfic.html Rating: NC-17 Category: SRA Keywords: MSR, mental Mulder!Torture, comfort!Scully, Scully POV Spoilers: Anasazi, Grotesque, Paper Hearts, Demons, the movie Summary: No pain killer would take the edge off Mulder's anguish. All I had at my disposal was...me. Disclaimer: *sniff* They aren't mine. But when I borrow them I treat them swell. Archive: No to Gossamer -- I'll submit it myself. Everybody else, yes, but tell me so I can visit. :) First posted: 2/26/02 Notes: This baby's for Sherri! Once again, we had the same idea for a fic at the same time. It's downright spooky...an X-File. Squirrel: "This is weird, Mulder." Moose: "Very weird." Anyway, sure hope it fits the bill and turns yer crank, girl. ;):) Also, thanks to Donni for missing my MSR. I'm all a-tingle. :) And to Jessy for begging for more of that M/S thang. Hope you enjoy this one! Full angst ahead, folks!! And for good measure here's a schmoopy ending alert. C'mere, Baby by Shannon Kizzia It started innocuously enough.... Good Nite Inn Chula Vista, California Midnight "Mulder, what's wrong?" I squinted against the light coming through the door from his room. He was just a shadow in front of it, and he seemed even taller than usual. I couldn't see his face. I looked down to where he was still holding the doorknob. His hand twisted on it, back and forth, back and forth, repeating the action of coming into my room over and over, making squeaking sounds of metal on metal. "Mulder?" I asked again, sitting up and throwing the covers off. It was then that I heard them. Small noises coming from his throat. I sat listening to him shiver as though cold in the balmy southern California summer evening. In between the shivers came tiny whimpers he tried to suppress. His hand tightened on the doorknob. I was quickly off the bed and in front of him then. His eyes glowed down to me in the meager light from his bathroom. A familiar sadness was heavy on his face, and he looked at me almost without seeing me. I put my hand over his on the doorknob and lifted my other to his face, feeling the hot skin of his forehead and chasing the errant hair away with a flutter of my fingers. "Did you have a nightmare, Mulder?" I asked, afraid that the answer would be no...that it was the visions and the seizures again. I swallowed heavily, waiting for him to come back to me from wherever he still was. I squeezed his hand letting my other rest against the side of his neck. He blinked, his lips trembling, and then focused on me. I gave him a little smile of assurance. "Y-yes," he whispered. "Okay," I said softly, stroking back along his hairline. "It's okay now, Mulder. All right?" I looked up into his eyes. The tears that had sprung there were receding, and he nodded at me. I came up on the balls of my feet and wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning in, letting him feel me up against him, another warm human, another heartbeat, an anchor. I felt his arms slowly come around me and then his big hands were on my back and he was leaning his head down to my shoulder. I held him there by the back of his head and murmured into his neck, "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here. I'm here, Mulder. Shhhhh..." He was still shivering, and I realized he was standing there in just his boxer shorts, and the air conditioning was on full blast in his room. "Mulder, it's freezing in there," I said, pulling back. "Why is the air on so high?" I held onto his arms which were still around me and actually pulling a little bit to try to get me back in close to him. "Don't know," he said, and I realized he was still very much in the fog of his dream. "It doesn't matter," I told him. "It's okay. Mulder, go get in my bed." I tried to pull out of the circle of his arms and he grunted in displeasure, tightening his hold, pulling me close, trying to burrow his nose in my hair. I put my hands against his chest and whispered gently, "No, no.... You have to let go for a minute. I just need to turn that air off." He slid away from me then with no further resistance. It was a little frightening to me, this submission from him. I remembered back to when he came to me after his father's death, this large presence in my space, spattered with blood and difficult to maneuver, but he let me guide him, let me show him the way to my room, to a place where he could let go of his responsibility to take action for a while. Nobody but me ever sees this Mulder. What he shows the world is someone driven. Someone passionate and unswerving. This Mulder, in the middle of the night, shaking from invisible demons, crying.... This is Mulder, too. The man who needs me to protect him, to stand guard over his sanity. It's the task I took on in becoming his partner. It was a situation I walked into uninformed of all the facts and baggage, of the scope of the undertaking. But I wouldn't now change it, wouldn't walk away from it. I tried. It's nearly physically impossible. I am with him for as long as Fate wants me to be. I went into his arctic room, my pink silk pajama pants swishing against my legs, and flipped the air off with a sigh. I came back and he was curled up into a little ball under the covers on the bed. He was on his side, only the top of his dark head visible. I closed the door on his room and padded over to the bed in the dark. I was scared. I'm a doctor and I can heal the sick and tend to the injured, certainly, but this was an injury I couldn't see, couldn't diagnose and bandage with instructions to clean the wound three times a day. No pain killer would take the edge off Mulder's anguish. All I had at my disposal was...me. I looked down at him, half-sleeping again already, but still tense beneath the covers, and seeing him like that... It put a stone in my heart. He was more than the man I worked with. He was my friend. I cared deeply for him. And he needed me. I put aside my own feelings of inadequacy and trepidation and crawled under the covers with him. I slowly snuggled up to his back, trying not to startle him. He still jumped a little when he felt me touch him. I jumped, too, stilling, but then whispered against his back, "It's okay. I'm here." And I curled my legs in behind his, pressing my breasts into the curve of his spine, cursing the thin silk as I could feel my nipples against him like I was naked. I laid my forehead against his bare skin and wrapped my left arm over him, cupping his shoulder, and laid my right across the pillow over his head. It was going to go to sleep, but I didn't care. I repeated it to myself silently, I felt him shudder a sigh against me and scoot back into me further. I found myself wishing I was bigger, so I could surround him, make him feel totally safe in the warm spoon of me. "Sleep, Mulder. I'm here," I told him, and he didn't answer. I waited as his breathing became regular and even, and then I allowed my own body to relax into his and sleep to claim me, too. **** The next morning I woke to hear the water running in his shower, our connecting doors being slightly ajar. My face was in his pillow. It smelled warm still, warm and Mulder-scented, so I snuggled down into it, closing my eyes again and listening to him splashing water around, washing that smell away. My cell rang and jump-started me out of my renewed slumber. I scrambled out of bed and fumbled around in my purse, pulling the loudly trilling thing out and jabbing the talk button. "Hello?" I was too sleep-hazy to remember to say Scully. "Agent Scully?" came the voice on the other end. "Yes, is this Detective Richardson?" "Yes, did I wake you, Agent?" "Um, no. No," I lied. "What is it?" "You need to get to the shipyards right away. There's been another beheading." "We'll be there," I sighed and hung up. I threw my phone back on top of my purse and cautiously walked into Mulder's room. The door to the bathroom wasn't quite shut all the way. I needed to tell him we had to hurry, but I really didn't feel comfortable talking to Mulder through a thin shower curtain. I stood just outside, feeling the steam brush my face with dew, trying to decide if I should knock or just start talking. I had lifted my fist when I heard him. "Unnnn...." His soft moan drifted out on the steam and I blinked, uncomprehending. I stood stock still, not even daring to breathe. "Unnmmmscuuh...." My instinct was to flee then. It became quite obvious to me with that second moan that Mulder was indeed masturbating and that it was most definitely not something I should be a witness to. I didn't want to think too much about the fact that it was almost the entire first syllable of my name that he... "Mmmm..." he hummed and I leaned my head against the doorjamb. What a beautiful sound. Feeling like I was in total violation of the boundaries of our partnership, I decided I needed to go back to my room. The doctor in me argued that morning erections were extremely common and were just a fact of life and Mulder taking care of his was no big thing, but that me listening to it was. I turned and took two steps back toward my room. "Jesuscully...." I stopped, my breath caught in my throat. My name. Unmistakably mine. As I continued back to my room, shutting the door softly behind me on the sounds of Mulder...finishing...I justified it. Of course he would say my name. I am his only true friend. There is no one either of us is closer to than each other. Short of fantasizing about celebrities or the women on his tapes, I'm the most logical choice. He'd merely focused on me because I make him feel relaxed and safe. I provide some measure of comfort for him. He may not have even been aware that he was saying my name. It could have been something completely involuntary for him. We're with each other many hours each day. I'm a woman, and there's no reason why he shouldn't feel comfortable having sexual thoughts about me. I have them about him on occasion. It's only natural. As I was thinking, I was throwing on my burgundy pants suit. Detective Richardson didn't seem to think there was time to be wasted, so I decided to forgo my own shower and just hope some extra deodorant and a spritz of Chanel No. 5 would do. I drew the brush through my hair and realized I was shaking. I took a deep breath and ordered myself to relax. It was nothing. It meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. I set the brush down and closed my eyes. It's perfectly natural to seek comfort in familiar things. I am familiar to Mulder. That's all there was to it. Somewhat convinced, I continued with my morning ritual, brushing my teeth, applying mascara, lipstick, covering up my mole. By the time I exited the bathroom, I was back to feeling like things were normal. As I was rummaging around in my suitcase for my low-heeled case shoes, Mulder came in, pulling his tie into place. "Morning, Scully. Detective Richardson called while you were getting ready. He said he called before?" I briefly thought I might have imagined last night, hallucinated him crying, me holding him close as he slept. He showed no signs of being affected by his restless night in the least. Or of...anything else. "Yeah, he did. He said there was another body." "So I gathered. Pretty impatient little guy, idn't he?" I gave him a withering smile as I organized my medical bag's contents. "I take it we're not supposed to stop for Starbucks on the way, yeah." "Maybe after though, huh? You know how I like a good maple oat nut scone after a dead body, Scully." He winked at me and returned to his room, yelling back, "I'll meet you at the car!" I heard him pick up the keys and leave. I sighed and finished gathering my things, picking up my room key and joining him not two minutes later in the warm, mid-morning sun. **** This case is not a pretty one. I'm reasonably unaffected by mutilation and violent deaths. I see a body, I want to find out how and why the person died. I want justice for them, but I am not overcome with projected guilt or hyper-sensitivity to their unjust end. I see horror and I want to find out the cause. And the why for me comes from the science. I love what I do. It may sometimes be gruesome, but I thrive on finding the answers, so that's what I do. Mulder... With him, sometimes it gets personal. I think it has to. Particularly when he's profiling. He finds answers in empathy, in intuition, in his heart and his gut. I've learned to respect that process every bit as much as my own. He has proven it time and again. So that's not why it bothers me. It bothers me because so often he is so adversely affected. In cases like that of John Lee Roche or Patterson, Mulder has become invested in a way I could never comprehend much less emulate. I've watched him suffer in the name of justice. I've seen the dark rings under his eyes and the tired hunch of his shoulders. I've been a witness to his sleepless nights and self-reproach when he has difficulty solving a case. Every old failure, or perceived failure, of his makes itself known again to him on those stubborn cases. I see the hurt in his face and I've always ached to stop that hurt. Now is no different. This killer is cunning. He's remorseless, efficient, and smart. Mulder can joke around on this case all he wants, he can play detached, but I see the grimace when they peel the sheet off yet another headless body. I know his frustration and I know he's taking a lot of responsibility for the guy not having been caught yet, for 5 dead people bloodying our investigation. I wish I could take that away from him, but even if I could, he wouldn't let me. All I can do is look for my own answers and hope that is help enough. I spent the day in the morgue at Scripps Hospital in Hillcrest while Mulder interviewed witnesses and scoured San Diego for clues. When he came to pick me up, I saw the dejection on his face, and he didn't have to tell me he'd gotten nowhere. I stripped off my latex gloves and went to change out of my scrubs and back into my suit with Mulder going down to the car to wait. We drove back to the motel in silence, passing two Starbucks on the way without even a sideways glance from him, only speaking when we were standing outside our respective doors. "Do you want to get a pizza, Mulder?" I asked. "I think I'm just going to go to bed," he answered. "You need to eat." "Not hungry," he said like a child. "See you tomorrow, Scully." He went inside his room and I went inside mine. I kicked off my shoes and took off my jacket. I heard the TV come on in Mulder's room. An old Western shoot 'em up by the sound of it. I ordered a pizza for myself, indulging in pineapple and mushrooms since I knew Mulder wouldn't be having any and therefore wouldn't be demanding sausage and onions. I sat on my bed and watched The Weather Channel while I waited for my food. My brain was tired. I'd been thinking about the case non-stop for twelve hours. It felt good to zone out on rain in Alabama. My pizza came and I ate two slices, stashing the rest away in the mini-fridge for later. I would probably end up forcing Mulder to eat some of it for breakfast so that he wouldn't go hypoglycemic on me halfway through the day. I was turning down the bed when I remembered I hadn't had the chance to shower that morning. As tired as I was, the idea of going to bed filthy was unthinkable. I started the water in the shower and peeled off my clothes. I moaned when I stepped under the spray. It felt divine. At least this time, Mulder and I had gotten a motel with a decent shower. I used the pungent motel soap and quickly cleaned off, washing my hair with my own Aveda extra-moisturizing formula shampoo and conditioner. I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off, feeling like a new woman. I wrapped the stingy, white towel around my body, letting my damp hair stay in tangles for the time being down my back. I set about laying out my pajamas on the foot of the bed. More silk ones, this time pale blue. I'd picked them, figuring it would be hot in San Diego this time of year. I remembered games of hide and seek on the base. How long my hair was and how it would stick to my neck when it got humid. Standing over that body today next to the water, I'd felt ten years old. I was just looking for my brush when my connecting door came flying open with a resounding bang against the wall where the stopper was, of course, missing. My immediate response was to go for my gun, but things happened so quickly that I wasn't given the chance despite the fact that it was completely unnecessary. Mulder, once again only in his shorts, came into my room, his eyes wild and wet. He was breathing like he'd been running for miles. His scared eyes scanned the room for me as he tried to blink the blinding tears away. He was shivering again and his hands shook at his sides, looking vacant and in need of something to grab and steady himself on. My chest hurt to look at him. "Oh Mulder," I said and he swung around at the sound of my voice, propelling himself toward me with that single-minded determination that sometimes takes my breath. He came into my arms with such force that I had to take several steps backwards. His face was in my neck, tears wetting my warm skin, breath hot and fast. His grip on my back was so tight it almost hurt, and my towel loosened from its tuck above my breasts. I had little time to worry about it, though. My concern was primarily for Mulder. In all our years together, (and I had witnessed his nightmares before), I had never seen him like this. It was more than a little unnerving. He was murmuring something that was getting lost against my neck. Something like, "She's never....she.....he gets them.....she....never will...." I tried to pull away so I could hear him, but he gripped me tighter and all I could do was hold him and let him clutch at me. His hands were beginning to fist in my towel, unknowingly ripping it off of me in his fear, and I felt it lose its final struggle to stay on my body. It fell to the floor in a useless, dingy-white heap, and I panicked and tried to lean down to pick it back up, but Mulder's strong arms kept me close, his hands sinking painfully into the flesh of my back. I was quite sure he had no idea what was going on, that I was naked, that he was holding me too tight, what day it was.... But I knew. "Shhhhh... Mulder, shhhhh," I soothed as he shook with terrified sobs. My breasts flattened against his body, our skin touching so intimately for the first time. I felt his heart beating wildly against me and my nipples hardened in response. He was pulling me in so forcefully that my feet were barely on the ground and my pubic bone was crushed against his hip. My womb contracted in preparation of sex, my body understanding a need and a desire I had neither the strength nor time to examine at the moment. Nor the power to stop. Mulder had one hand wrapped around me, fingers digging into the side of my breast and the other pressed to my lower back. Trying to forget my state of undress, I continued to coo softly at him, trying to bring him down from his episode and back to the present. "It's all right, Mulder." I stroked his hair in soothing, slow juxtaposition to his racing pulse. I scrapped my nails lightly over his scalp and whispered in his ear. "Shhhh... It's okay, baby. I'm right here. Shhhh..." One shuddering breath at a time, I felt him come back. His heart slowed. The disjointed murmuring stopped. His hands relaxed against my bare flesh enough that he was no longer creating bruises. I tried not to betray my own discomfort to him, the way *I* was then the one shaking slightly, the one whose heart was beating too fast. I started to pull away, ready to tell him to get in my bed and wait while I put clothes on, but his strong arms pulled me roughly back into him. "Mulder, I need to put on..." "No," he growled with finality, and I actually shuddered. His tone made me uneasy. His hands, though now not violent, were strong and unrelenting. "Mulder, yes," I said gently. I felt him very still against me, not letting me go, afraid. "Mulder?" I didn't want to call attention to it if he hadn't yet figured it out for himself, but I had to. "I need to put clothes on. I..." I could feel my cheeks burning with the fire of my embarrassment. He lifted his head off my shoulder and looked down into my face for the first time and I saw it dawn on him. I blushed more. For a moment, I didn't think it mattered to him. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to let go of me at all. His eyes dropped to where my chest was pressed against him and flitted uninhibitedly across the tops of my breasts, my clavicles, my shoulders, my breasts again. Then he found my eyes again and his hands came away from me like I'd burned him. Maybe I had. My skin was fevered from his touch and his urgency. He turned around away from me, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. I picked up my towel and rewrapped. "Scully," he rasped. "I'm sorry." I stepped up behind him and laid my hands on his shoulders. He jumped. I pressed a tentative kiss against his back, under the sharp curve of one scapula, and spoke against him. "Mulder, it's okay. Go lie down." I lifted my head and peered around his shoulder and he, in turn, looked back at me. His eyes were deep and olive brown and so, so filled with need. I gave his shoulders a squeeze and repeated my instruction. "I just want you to lie down, Mulder. Okay?" He nodded and began walking on unstable legs to my bed. He looked back to make sure I was following. He looked more than half asleep still. He looked haunted and exhausted and totally unlike the man I know most every day. He turned and sat down on the edge of the bed and I stood in front of him. He reached out and took my hips in his hands. I drew in a quick, surprised breath. "Mulder... I...want to put my clothes on." There was a fearful tremor in my own voice. I wanted to help him but there was something in his eyes that spoke of a need I could not fulfill, and that scared me. "Can I do that, please?" His hands tightened on me, squeezing, but then he nodded and I stepped out of his grasp. "I'll just be a minute," I told him. I gathered my pajamas from the foot of the bed and hastily retreated with them to the bathroom. I closed the door and leaned my forehead against it with a quiet, heavy sigh. As if the case itself was not enough.... I felt like I needed another hot shower to relieve the tension of dealing with the intensity that was Mulder. As I dressed, I thought about how fragile he seemed on this case. He'd had severe and self-destructive reactions on cases before and things always seemed to settle back to normal once they were over, but just for once I would have liked to really help him, to not feel like all I could do was sit and wait for him to lick his wounds and develop scar tissue. To *do* something for him. I finished buttoning my shirt, caught my disheveled reflection and was vain enough to smooth my hair down to some semblance of calm, then I took a breath and opened the door. He was already down for the count, lightly snoring, half under the covers, his mouth open slightly. I smiled to myself and turned out the light by the bed. His exhaustion was catching. I yawned as I climbed in and pulled the covers up to my waist, settling against the pillow. I was lying there thinking about how I could best help Mulder to resolve his anxiety when he turned on his side toward me and settled tightly against me. He threw his left arm over my body, diagonally across my chest, laying his cheek against the silk covering my breast. I could feel his hot, moist breath on my nipple, and a warm wet pooled between my legs. His pelvis pressed against my thigh, and he hummed his satisfaction, smacking his lips on a sigh. My hands hovered over his body, wanting to hold him to me and sleep like that, but afraid of waking him and making him move. Finally, I let them rest on his shoulder and hair. He didn't stir and I let his warm weight lull me into sleep. **** .......................... 24 hours later "Nooooooooo!!!" I came awake suddenly to his terrified scream. My heart was instantly in my throat as I threw the sheet off me and went to our adjoining doors, bursting into his room to see him thrashing about on his bed, legs tangled in covers. I hurried to his side, reaching for him. I took his shoulders. His muscles flinched under my hands as he continued to wrestle his dream demon. "Mulder, wake up," I demanded as I gently shook him. "Scuh...Scuh...don't...noooo!!" "Mulder, I'm *here*," I told him, trying to touch his face but failing as he turned his head this way and that. "Mulder, please, it's okay. Wake up." His eyes came open wide on a gasp and he sat bolt upright. "Easy. Easy, Mulder." I still had his shoulders and I tried to lean down into his field of vision. "Scully?" He blinked at me, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. "It's me," I said softly, petting his hair, seeing his full lips tremble and feeling tears spring to my eyes. "Scully...you were...oh god, Scully..." "Shhhh..." I pulled him to me and rocked. I felt him shudder, trying to suppress the sadness, trying to comprehend that it really was me, that I was not the fiction and the dream the reality. "It was a dream, Mulder. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." "Scully, they took you again," he said sadly against my neck. I took his head in my hands and looked him in the eye. "No, Mulder. No. I'm here. Put your hands on me." I took his large, trembling hands and laid them on my hips. "This is me. I'm here with you." I took his face between my hands again and chased his scared eyes with mine. "The things they did, Scuh..." He shivered in revulsion, remembering. "They took you from me. And they...they showed me...what they did..." He was scaring me with his inability to let the dream go. I had to reach him, to comfort him and bring him back. "It wasn't real," I told him, pushing on his shoulders and chest, feeling his resistance subside as he let me push him back down onto the bed on his back. "This is real, Mulder." I placed his hand over my heart and pressed down, letting him feel the very warm blood pumping through my body. "And this is real," I continued, taking his hand again and placing it on my face, leaning into his palm. I saw him swallow. He always wants to believe. I spoke into his hand, my eyes closing. "Please, don't be scared anymore, Mulder. I want to show you that you don't have to be scared anymore." I didn't think about what I was doing and before I knew it, my lips were against the silky inside of his wrist, against the fluttering pulse there, and I was kissing him. I held my mouth to him for a moment and then I laid his hands down by his sides and set about unbuttoning his shirt. He'd fallen asleep in his work clothes. He made a weak sound of protest in his throat. "It's okay," I whispered to him, not looking into his eyes. "I'm just going to get you ready for bed." Too exhausted to argue, he laid his head heavily down on the pillow. "That's good," I encouraged. "Let me take care of you, Mulder." I unbuttoned his cuffs and worked the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, drawing it out from beneath him and letting it fall to the floor. I started unbuckling his belt and his head came off the bed again. "Relax," I instructed and he put his head down once more. I pulled the leather from the metal and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. His breath seemed to stop and mine got quicker as I pulled the material down his legs and off, tossing them carelessly to the floor as well. My heart began to thud in my chest, dangerously close to explosion, as I leaned down with purpose. I reached into the fly of his boxers, closing my hand around his penis. "Scuh..! Wha..?" Mulder sat up almost knocking me over. I reached my other hand not curled around his swelling cock up to his shoulder and gently guided him back down to the bed. "Shhh, lie back," I murmured, giving his penis a reassuring, affectionate squeeze. He hardened significantly more and groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. "That's good. Relax." I pulled him free of his shorts and squeezed again, watching him now surge to erect. I leaned forward and took him in my mouth. I worked the tip gently with my tongue, circling the hot satin of him and squeezing the base again, too. I shifted up onto the bed, letting him leave my mouth for a moment, while I positioned myself on my hands and knees over him. My hair came down like a curtain and I flipped it back with my hand to one side, zeroing in again with my mouth, fitting it over his cockhead snugly and pushing further down his shaft. This wasn't about anything more than getting Mulder to relax. He'd jerked off in the shower. That had given him some peace and some perspective for a while. This was the same, I told myself as I sank my mouth down over him languidly, slicking him with my saliva. He just needed to come. Then he could sleep peacefully. I took my hand away so I could get all of him in my mouth. I breathed deeply through my nose and bobbed his length slowly in and out of me. I was becoming quickly wet and my silken pajamas were sticking in-between my folds. I took a moment to just hold him in my mouth and rub my tongue against him, around him. He was throbbing. Like my clitoris. I couldn't help but moan deeply around his hot flesh. "Scully, please..." he gritted out and my vaginal muscles responded with a short, strong clench. I sucked him harder, moaning again. "I...don't want..." he started. I lifted off his cock long enough to answer him. "I want." And then I swallowed him once more, working him vigorously, feeling him shake, tasting the arousing flavor of his pre-ejaculate. He growled and before I knew his intentions, he'd gripped me by the shoulders and tugged me up and off of him. He threw me back against the mattress on my back and leaned down onto me, his weight on one shoulder as he used both hands to pull my pants off, leaving my bottom half naked. Then he supported himself with a hand on either side of my shoulders and began thrusting wildly between my labia against my clit and my opening. "I never wanted this," he groaned, tear-choked. "Never this, Scully..." And then his face contorted in his orgasm and his pain and he shot himself all over my sex and my thighs. His whisper broke my heart. "Scullleeeee...." **** I leaned my forehead against the bathroom door, a thick, cold barrier between us. The wood was fake. "I thought... Mulder, I thought I could help you." My voice had become a whisper. More to myself, disbelieving. I felt like I'd been talking at him through this door for years. The moon was setting. His room provided no ocean view, only moon through trees. It could have been anywhere. After a sickening silence, I spoke again. "I wanted to, Mulder. I...liked doing it." It felt surreal to be having this one-sided conversation. Talking about me giving Mulder head. It felt like he wasn't there on the other side. Except for the crackle of tension, the taut line of emotion and repression drawn between us still. "Tell me what you need from me, Mulder," I finally pleaded, tired tears sparkling my eyes. Too quickly the door opened and I had to tilt my head up to see Mulder's stormy face. "How about another blow? I think I've got some more juice saved up for ya." It hit me like a punch in the ribs and my tears welled up against my bottom lids. "Mulder, why are you being this way?" He pushed past me, still naked, his penis dangling between his legs, belying his words. He started folding clothes. "I'm not being any way, Scully. What reaction *should* I have to your pouty mouth sucking my dick? What, should I be grateful?" He looked at me and shrugged before turning his attention back to his Armani slacks. "I sure am, Scully. If I'd known you could go down like that, I would have had you do it a long time ago. I guess I just always thought the rumors were probably true." A tear slid down my face. I forced my voice past the lump in my throat. "What rumors?" "Oh you know. That whole ice bitch thing." A sob broke from me before I could stop it and he turned away from me, embarrassed by my emotion I suppose. "Mulder, why?" He turned on me. "You wanna know why, Scully?" My eyes widened as he walked toward me into the moonlight and I saw his own tears trailing rivulets down his cheeks. "Huh?" I couldn't answer. "I never. Wanted. A *pity fuck*. From you," he spit, trembling. "It wasn't...I didn't mean..." I stammered. "Oh, it wasn't? Sure fucking seemed like one from where I was, Scully." He said my name like a curse. "Oh wait. Technically, it was a pity *suck*. Yeah, that's much better." "I don't pity you, Mulder," I whispered under the on-slaught of his anger. "I..." "You what?" He put his hands on his hips. His beautiful, slim, powerful hips. Another tear escaped my eye. "You what, Scully? You liked it? It felt good to you? You were proud of yourself? What?" "No... Yes... Some of it. Mulder, I..." "You *what*?" he asked leaning down into my face. I couldn't speak. My mouth just opened and closed and it hurt to look into his eyes. Stung. The air waited around us. The moon was quiet and full and bright. No ocean sounds. I couldn't remember hearing it at all since we'd gotten to California. Suddenly that seemed so important. To remember that sound. It was like forgetting how my father laughed. And it came as a shock to me that I couldn't remember that either. I just stood there, stupidly, tears flowing freely. Silent. "That's what I thought," Mulder said with contempt and I felt my insides coil up. A part of me stopped then. Ceased. He started to get dressed. Pants hurriedly zipped as I stared at the blurred floor. Shirt thrown on. Shoes smashed onto feet. "I'm gonna take a drive. I can't..." I heard the tears in his eyes as he couldn't finish. He took several quick steps away from me and his hand was on the door when I felt a panic rise up in me that I've never known. I tried to tell him. I opened my mouth. It only came out as a whisper, though, and I know he couldn't hear as he threw open the door. "I love you." I stood staring at the carpet, unseeing, heart breaking, knowing he and I would never be the same, never heal. He would never know, and if I tried to tell him I felt sure he'd never believe me. He who always believes. I gasped a sob and the sound of his voice right in front of me startled my eyes up to his face. "What did you say?" He wasn't gone. He was here. If he was here, there was hope. I had to find my voice again. With everything in my power, I said it to him again. "I love you." He breathed in a shuddering breath and yet another tear trailed down his face. "Say it again." His voice broke on it. "I love you." And so did mine. He reached out his hand to my face and touched his thumb tentatively to my bottom lip. He whispered, "Again." "I love you." "Scully..." He pulled me to him and pressed his salty mouth to mine. He opened our mouths and pushed his tongue into mine and it was sweet. He kissed me deeply, holding me close, breathing my breath, mixing our tears. His kiss penetrated me. Like he wouldn't let his cock do before. Like I shouldn't have done. And I understood before he broke the kiss to say it. "This...is what I neeeeed," he whispered strong against my panting mouth. "I've loved you forever, Scully." His shaking hands began ripping the tiny buttons from their holes in my pajama top, his mouth still against mine, our eyes downcast but not closed. "Give me everything." "Yesss," I whispered and his mouth devoured mine again. He pulled my shirt from my arms and walked me backwards up against the bathroom counter top. My bare bottom hit and I groaned into his mouth. Without taking his hungry mouth from mine, he divulged himself of his shirt again and my hands drew like magnets to his skin, lightly stroking all over his chest. He ripped his fly open and let the weight of his belt buckle pull them into a puddle on the floor around his ankles. He wasn't wearing underwear and his cock nestled between our bellies. I wrapped my arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth and tilting my head to receive his thrusting tongue. I thought I was going to faint from the high of this pleasure. Of Mulder loving me. Of it being okay to love him back. He lifted my ass up onto the counter, pushing his shaving kit aside with a clatter. I spread my legs for him and felt his cockhead push at my opening, blindly. I reached down and grasped his hard cock and guided him in. I broke our kiss with a gasp as he shoved all the way into me with one swift stroke. His face found a good fit in my neck and I held him there as we both breathed. Then he started to take short, hard pulses, stroking my aching walls. He gripped me to him with his hands at my back and I wrapped my legs around his hips. When he started to speed up, getting close, I pulled his head up from my shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. We didn't need our words then. His face held nothing but the sweetest, strongest love for me. He took his right hand and slipped it between our writhing bodies and found my clitoris. I threw my head back and arched with the intimate touch. "Mulder..." I whimpered and sighed. "I fucking love you, Scully," he gasped and I smiled in the moon-drenched darkness. "I adore you," I whispered back. "And if you keep touching me there, I'll come." "Jesuscully..." he muttered and began slamming into me hard and quick. "Ohgodyeah!" I yelled as my muscles spasmed around him and against his fingers. I felt my own body an ocean, pounding, receding, breaking, foaming. And Mulder the cause of it all. New tears came to my eyes as I felt Mulder then come inside me, crying out nonsense. Beautiful nonsense. He was right. Less than everything with us was unthinkable, a denial of our true selves. As we came down from the climax, we held each other. We breathed in concert, the only sound anywhere. And then he spoke. "Scully, I'm so sorry... Those things I said..." "Hurt my feelings," I finished and I could practically feel his heart hurt from it. "I forgive you. If you forgive me, Mulder." He looked into my eyes and even though it was dark and late and the case was weighing on us both, he saw into me and understood me. "There's nothing to forgive." And then he kissed me. "You love me." I nodded and caressed his unshaven face. His cock slipped out of my wetness and we both grimaced slightly, missing the intimate connection already, our bodies finally having caught up to our minds. "Call me baby again." "What?" I asked, smiling in confusion. "You called me baby before, Scully. I liked it. Do it again." "When did I call you 'baby', Mulder?" I asked as he stepped away from the counter and me and then helped me down, toe-ing his shoes off and stepping out of his pants. I hissed, my inner thighs already protesting the vigorous workout they got. "Before. Yesterday. I think. You were naked." He took my hand and led me toward his bed. "I don't think so," I answered, trying to keep the blossoming smile from my voice. "You weren't naked?" he asked, playfully. At my look he added, "Fine. Don't believe me, Scully. Just say it anyway." I quirked a brow at him then, crawled up onto the bed, lay back on the pillows, and bent one knee seductively. "C'mere, baby," I purred and it actually sounded pretty damned good. Mulder smiled and crawled up the bed after me, blocking the moonlight as he hovered over me and his lips descended over mine for another heated kiss. I no longer needed light I decided as I shut my eyes. I had Mulder to see by. End Phew!! Didn't think I had another MSR in me did ya? How'd I do? Feedback gratefully received at: lmelao@earthlink.net