Subject: enoughofme
Date: Sat, 16 Oct 1999 01:06:23 -0700
From: Trixie <trixie@wgn.net>
To: trixie@wgn.net

There was nothing worse, Mulder thought, than not knowing where you were
when you woke up.

The sunlight pouring in through the window was blinding him, which
didn't make recognizing his surroundings any easier. He didn't appear to
be in a motel room, but he couldn't really see much. Automatically, he
paid closer attention to his other senses, hoping they could lead him to
a clue as to whatever happened last night. The room was silent,
peacefully so, and he could faintly taste a rich Merlot he thought he
recalled consuming. The bed was soft, and the sheets smelled like rose,
he realized. The light scent was what Scully always wore . . .

His eyes slammed shut. A memory, startlingly vivid and real, played on
the backs of his eyelids. He was pressing his mouth against a woman's
inner thigh and she was whispering his name. The voice was unmistakably
Scully's, and he offered up a fervent prayer: please, please, please
don't let me be in bed with her. Please let it be an erotic dream.

An incredibly vivid, emotionally jarring dream, that got all five of his
senses involved . . .

The bed shifted, although he didn't move. Warm, soft skin pressed
against his back and someone's arm slung across his chest. A small,
delicate hand settled itself over his heart and from the deep, even
breathing coming from the body behind him, he guessed she was still
sleeping. He slipped his palm beneath hers and brought the back of her
hand to his lips, then laid it gently against his cheek. Her mouth
pressed against the center of his spine and it caused a tiny shiver to
run through his body.

Another flash accosted him, this time of running his tongue from the top
of her spine, to the curve of her ass, and back again.

God, please, if you're out there, don't let it be Scully . . .

Even as he offered up the prayer, he knew it was hopeless. The light
wasn't so blinding now and he could clearly make out the shapes of her
bedroom. A bottle of Tylenol sat on top of her alarm clock and her keys
- Apollo 11 key-chain and all - were lying beside it.

Her nose rubbed gently back and forth against his shoulder blade and he
had to smile a little at that, because now he knew Scully was like a
kitten when she woke up. That was knowledge he didn't want to possess,
but he'd never forget it now. He'd never forget the perfect way her body
molded itself to his back, the way she brought new meaning to the
'spoons' position.

Once again, a glimpse into last night and yet another image and
accompanying sensation was burned into his brain. One hand on her bare
hip, the other brushing the hair from her face as she let out those
amazing little sounds he would never be able to eradicate from his
memory. A moment later he had kissed her and that was the moment, he
remembered now, that he'd slipped inside her for the first time.

Maybe it wasn't the Merlot he was still tasting; maybe it was Scully.

Come on, Mulder, he chided himself. Enough is enough. Time to bite the
bullet. Slowly, as so not to wake her yet, he turned until their faces
were barely an inch apart. A lock of hair had fallen across her face and
her nose was twitching in the most adorable manner, trying to dislodge
it in her sleep. He brought his hand to her face and pushed her hair
back, meaning to pull back as soon as he completed the action. He found
he could not and his fingers threaded through her hair gently.

He watched, fascinated, as Scully's eyes slowly blinked open. He'd seen
her wake up before, dozens of times. But it had always been sudden;
she'd been jarred out of a peaceful sleep into one horrible situation or
another. A chill ran down his spine at the realization that he already
liked watching her wake up far too much for his peace of mind.

It only took a few seconds for her to focus on him. His mind registered
dimly that she didn't appear at all surprised to see him there. The
realization that overshadowed that, however, was that she seemed glad to
see him, period. Which meant he couldn't rely on her to do the
levelheaded, rational thing she was so good at. Great. That meant it was
up to him.

With great effort, he extricated his hand from her hair and pulled away
from her, both physically and emotionally, with slow, deliberate
movements. He watched her eyes dim marginally as she registered his
actions and he hated himself for what he was about to do. It was
necessary, though, for his own good, for her own good, and for the good
of so much else.

Scully, for her part, wore a resigned expression. As though she hadn't
expected anything else from him. He didn't like that, but it wasn't like
he had a lot of room to bitch about it. His eyes darted from her, to the
clock. 7:38 AM. With a little luck, he might be able to make his escape
before eight and they could put this whole thing behind them at work
today. As soon as they were both in the office, he'd think up some kind
of field assignment and once they were back in familiar territory, all
the emotions and impulses that had ruled them last night would be shoved
firmly into the backs of their minds again . . .

Shit!

Mulder sat up slowly and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand.
There had been a reason they were sharing that bottle of wine in her
apartment last night. That reason decided to present itself to him, loud
and clear.

Skinner's voice echoed inside his head. 'Agents, you will both suffer a
two-week suspension, without pay, due to your actions in the Spellman
case.' That's all he'd said. The light from his window had bounced off
his bald head and they'd left, feeling like chastised school children
who'd been caught tp-ing the faculty lounge.

"While I should probably spare us both your answer, I can't seem to stop
myself from asking." Scully's voice and the touch of her hand on his
back pulled him back to the present. He didn't look at her, but he could
feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. "What was last night?"

Surprisingly, her voice didn't sound hostile or confrontational, as he'd
expected. She sounded logical and oddly comforting. As though it didn't
matter in the least what his answer to her question was.

"Whatever it was," he hedged, unwilling to begin a more precise
explanation that would surely lead them down roads better not traveled,
"I don't think it should ever happen again."

"I completely agree." Her answer came a little too quick for his liking.
"Not if you're going to act like this the morning after," she added.

"How am I acting?"

"Mulder." Her tone dripped incredulity and implied that his name was
answer enough in her mind.

"Scully." He tried for a conciliatory tone, but feared it emerged more
argumentative than anything.

"From the moment I opened my eyes, I've been getting a distinctive
'hands off' message from you." He was looking at her now and he watched
her eyes soften, even as the action showed a few chinks in her armor.
"Look, it's obvious you think what happened was a mistake--"

"I never said that," he interrupted quickly. And in truth, he didn't
think last night had been a mistake. It never should've happened, but it
wasn't a mistake. He ran through his mind quickly the possible outcomes
if he said that out loud. Somehow, he doubted it would go over well, so
he wildly searched for something else to explain himself.

She beat him to it. "You didn't have to," she sighed when it became
clear he wasn't going to speak again. "I'm not . . . I'm not mad about
it, Mulder," she said after a few moments of silence. "I'm not even
hurt, not really."

"You look hurt," he couldn't help pointing out.

A morose smile tugged her lips upward. "When the person you wake up next
to in the morning can't even stand to look at you, I suppose it hurts a
little."

"I'm looking at you." He did more than look. He stared straight into her
eyes, trying out that unspoken communication; trying to give her
reassurance in the face of his obvious discomfort.

She gave a short nod, affirming that she understood. Her eyes were
downcast and she seemed to be fascinated with bits of imaginary lint on
the sheet covering her body. She cleared her throat. "I know I'm not
exactly the first person you'd expect to wake up next to--"

"Scully, you are the last person I ever wanted to have one of these
morning afters with," he confessed as he scooted up the bed to rest
against the headboard at her side.

"Gee, thanks," she muttered.

"That's not what I meant." Mulder sighed and reached his hand out,
enfolding her nervous and absently twitching one in a gentle grip. "I
just meant . . . it complicates things so much. It raises questions like
'what now' and 'can we ever be the same again.' I never wanted what we
have to go bad, Scully."

Those were some of the hardest words he'd ever said, and he wasn't even
half done. How he'd ever get the rest out, he had no idea. How did he
explain to her the contents of his soul? How could he ever explain to
her what she did to him when he allowed himself to think outside the
box, when it came to their relationship? She knew how desperately he
needed to find his sister. What she didn't know was how easily she could
distract him from that purpose.

He wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if they were
trailing a lead and decided to turn in early one night because the lure
of falling into her bed had been stronger than tromping around in the
mud all night after a probable dead end? And what if that one time, the
dead end turned out to be Samantha?

And it wasn't just Samantha he was worried about, either. It was Scully,
too. There were two sides to the coin. The other side was the one he
most hated. On that side, he did not allow Scully to take the focus away
from the search. On that side, he tried to give her as much as he could,
but there wasn't enough of himself left at the end of the day. He ended
up hurting her and disappointing her and in the end, she took the only
option left to her when the man who supposedly loved her wasn't there.

She left. She left him and it broke his heart all over again and then he
was alone -- no Scully, no Samantha, not even a single illusion to cling
to. That scenario was all too plausible and it terrified him.

In the end, it all came down to one simple fact: if he let her, Scully
could heal him. And if she healed him, he knew he would lose some of his
drive. The temptation to build a life with her would be overwhelming and
he would have to let go of all the pain he'd accumulated over his
lifetime. He'd have to say goodbye to his sister once and for all,
accepting her fate, whatever it may be. He would still search, of
course, but it would no longer be a quest. It would no longer be the
focal point of his existence.

The day he realized Scully was more important to him than anything else
was the day he vowed to himself she would never be more than a partner
to him. Last night, he'd broken that vow, and unless he figured out some
way to explain everything he was feeling to her, the damage between them
could very well end up being irreparable.

"I don't see what's so wrong about what happened here last night," she
announced, her voice startling after having been quiet so long. Her bare
shoulders shrugged a little and he resisted the urge to place his lips
between them. "I needed you last night and you needed me. I don't think
there's anything wrong with two people agreeing that that's good enough.
We don't have to feel guilty just because we don't want it to be more
than it is."

Mulder stared down at their hands. Shut up, his inner voice told him.
Just agree with her. Say she's right, because in so many ways, she is.

But he couldn't. He'd never been able to think logically when it came to
her. "What if," he began in the softest voice he'd ever used, "one of
those two people wanted more, but knew they weren't capable of giving to
the other person what she needed, let alone what she deserved."

He didn't look at her for a moment. He didn't know how. But after a
short while, he grew too curious and raised his eyes to hers. The wealth
of silent understanding she offered him in a single look let him
remember how to breathe. The bittersweet smile on her lips prompted his
heart to beat again.

She gets it, he thought, with more than a tinge of awe. Sweet Jesus,
somehow she actually understands the depth of my fear.

"I don't see why either one of us has to feel guilty," she said quietly
after a moment. "And I don't see why we have to lose anything because of
last night. We might even gain something.  Although I think I'll leave
that decision up to you." She squeezed his hand once, waiting until she
was sure she had his attention. "And whatever you decide, Mulder, I
promise, it will be good enough."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're being remarkably calm
about this. More than I deserve."

She smiled gently and shrugged. "I just . . . Last night was wonderful,
and if that's all it was, a lot of sexual tension coming to a head, then
that's okay. There's nothing wrong with that. I'd just kind of like to
know one way or the other so I can acclimate myself to the situation."

Try as he might, he couldn't quite contain a chuckle at that. She raised
a questioning eyebrow and he shrugged, speaking before he thought it
through. "I love you," he said, the words escaping as an explanation,
rather than a declaration. "Not the overly sentimentalized Jerry Maguire
kind of love, mind you, but something I think they invented just for
you."

He was tempted to go into further detail. To explain how the respect,
admiration and trust he had in her were so all-consuming that they
overlapped into the respect, admiration and trust he had for himself
until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began. That she was the best
person he'd ever known and that he had always loved her, even before
they'd ever met. All those years he went through life, never fathoming
he belonged to a woman whose name he didn't even know.

 "You mean like the kind of love you have for a friend you also want to
fuck?"

"Scully!" he exclaimed in mock-reproach.

She grinned and, had he been standing, the sight would've knocked him on
his ass. "You're not helping me acclimate myself to the situation," she
reminded him.

"You noticed that too." Sheepishly, he ran a hand through his hair. "I
don't know, Scully. Maybe I should know exactly what the right thing to
do is. Maybe I shouldn't have to think twice about this situation. But I
do. There's so much . . . this is everything to me. More than I think
you even know." But then he looked into her eyes and he saw that she did
know. He saw that somewhere along the way, it had become just as much to
her as it was to him. It should've scared him. It didn't. It did exactly
what he'd been dreading.

It healed him. Just a little bit.

"I do know what's riding on this," she assured him, laying a hand on his
shoulder. Her gaze met his and she gave him a smile he'd never seen her
smile at anyone else.

He saw something then that made him want to believe more than he ever
had in his life. In her eyes was an offer; something pure and priceless.
He didn't know how to accept it and she didn't know how to ask. It did,
however, give him something to think about.

"You got syrup, Scully?"

She raised an eyebrow at that and he congratulated himself on saying the
very last thing she would've expected of him. "Why do you ask?"

"Cause I'm starved."

~

Scully scrambled the eggs while Mulder popped the Eggo waffles into the
toaster and poured syrup into a small pitcher. He also started the
coffee and moved to set the table.

"I'm not eating in the kitchen on my day off," she informed him.

His gaze was drawn to her, head bent over the stove, adding pepper to
the eggs. As they climbed out of bed, he'd gone for his jeans. He'd
tried to locate his underwear, but they were nowhere to be found. Next,
he'd reached for his shirt, only to find her shrugging it on. His
eyebrows had climbed, and she'd kept a steady, defiant gaze on his as
she buttoned every last inch of his gray Henley.

That seemingly innocuous move stated where she stood more clearly than
words ever could have. The ball was most assuredly in his court, but he
wasn't entirely certain the decision was completely his. Scully was
doing her level best to bias him and he couldn't fault her for it one
bit. Giving him the decision was something he never would've expected
from her. He hadn't been sure she was capable of such a surrender of
control.

It was also one hell of an enticement.

More so when he remembered that she hadn't bothered to put anything on
=underneath= his shirt.

"Where then, pray tell, =would= you like to have breakfast?" He watched
as she turned away from the stove with the utmost care. He was sure he
didn't like the gleam in her eye.

"I'd like to have breakfast in bed. I haven't indulged myself like that
in a very long time." She stuck the tip of her index finger into the
syrup and made an appreciative noise as she very, =very=, slowly sucked
it clean.

And so it continued.

"Scully."

"Before you start in again, let me make you an offer you shouldn't be
able to refuse." She gave the eggs a quick flip and walked toward him,
placing a hand on his forearm. "Today doesn't count. It's like recess at
school, okay? We can do whatever we want and it won't affect what comes
next. Deal?"

It was a mistake. He knew it was a mistake. It would seal their fate
and, for him at least, there would be no turning back. He knew it, but
he agreed anyway.

"Deal."

She nodded once, as though his answer satisfied her. Then, she went back
to fixing the eggs. Shaking off any disquiet he felt, Mulder went back
to her bedroom and laid one of her old quilts out on top of the bed like
a tablecloth. Not giving himself time to consider how daft it was to
spend any more time with Scully in her bed, he nonetheless headed back
into the kitchen to help her carry the food.

Once they settled themselves and their breakfast on her bed, Scully
immediately began digging into her food. Mulder soon followed her
example and found he was pretty ravenous, himself. The mood between them
had grown lighter in the last few minutes than it had been in weeks. His
thoughts, however, were going a mile a minute.

He was remembering things that happened years ago, before he'd even met
her. For some reason, he was reliving the end of his relationship with
Diana. She was the last person he wanted intruding on this morning and
he pushed thoughts of her away, concentrating instead on the way Scully
attacked her food. She spilled some more syrup onto her waffles and he
had another flash.

The wine had spilled last night. They had been laughing about something
stupid and he'd been spellbound by her alto timbre. They were sitting on
the floor and her glass had dropped from her hand. They'd bent to pick
it up at the same time and their noses had bumped. Laughing still, he
wasn't sure either of them made a conscious decision to kiss. It was
like the way magnets just couldn't help but be drawn together.

God, it had actually been like that, he thought. He'd kissed her without
making the choice to do so. The alcohol had lowered both their
inhibitions and there'd been no second-guessing, no hesitation. The wine
must've made one hell of a stain on her carpet by now because he knew
damn good and well neither of them went back to clean it up.

"I never told you about Diana."

Perhaps he was unwise to bring this topic up. Perhaps it would shatter
the tranquility of this moment. All he knew was that whichever way this
thing between them went, she needed to understand why. And considering
he was just beginning to understand it himself, maybe if he said it out
loud, it would help a little.

"No," she agreed very slowly as she placed her fork back on her plate,
"you didn't."

"Diana left me because--" He stopped himself for a moment, thinking back
to the night she told him she was leaving. He remembered the excuses
she'd given, the new job she couldn't possibly pass up. It had been
civil and he'd convinced himself he believed her. However, he knew
better now. He'd known then, but he'd been in denial. There were just
certain things he didn't want to accept about himself.

"She left me because of the man I was. The man I am," he finally said,
the words weighing heavily. "At the end of the day, after pursuing
confusing government conspiracies and trying to prove the validity of my
many theories, there was nothing left of me to give to her. She was my
partner, but try as I might, I couldn't give her more. I couldn't give
her what she needed." He looked at his partner, with the affection borne
of years together, going through hell and back a dozen times as he bared
his soul as honestly as he knew how. "I never gave you more, Scully,
because I never wanted you to notice when I gave you less."  He shook
his head. "It doesn't make sense, I know, but--"

"It makes sense," she interrupted quickly. She leaned forward and
pressed her lips to his briefly, a gesture of understanding. As soon as
she pulled away, she seemed to regret the action but nonetheless pushed
forward. It seemed as though she gave her next words a great deal of
thought, weighing each one carefully.

"Mulder, you will never give me less so long as you give me all you're
able. Whether that's an hour a day, or an hour a week, it's enough,
because it's you." A smile tugged at her lips. "The day I realized that
was the day I seriously worried that I'd lowered my expectations."

Something of what he felt at that statement must've shown on his face.
She brought her hand to his cheek and inched a little closer to him on
the bed. "Right now," she clarified, putting a little extra emphasis on
the 'now', "we are both focused on our work. We have things to do.
Things that need to be done, for reasons both personal and professional.
But Mulder, I'm confident that a day will come when we will find your
sister and bring truths to light. And whatever life we lead after that,
I would like us to lead it together, when we =can= focus only on each
other."

"What if that day never comes?" He hated the question, but knew it had
to be asked.

"It will," she stated with more surety than he thought she felt. "And
until then," she continued, brushing a lock of hair back from his
forehead, "we do still get to take a few hours off now and then. We
really would go nuts if we didn't." She chuckled nervously for a moment,
then sobered. "I don't see why we can't spend those hours together."

Her eyes were filled with such hope, such need. He wanted to give her
everything she desired. What she laid out seemed so simple, in theory.
So right if the pieces fell into place. There was still a huge ball of
fear inside him, screaming that he get the hell out of this bed and run
as fast as he could away from her. It might've persuaded him, too, if he
hadn't looked at the corner of her mouth just then.

Right in that crook where her lower lip met her upper, was a drop of
syrup. It was déjà vu all over again as he reached for a napkin, then
stopped himself as a tiny realization spread lightness through his body.
If today was a free day, that meant he didn't have to do what he
would've done if they were sitting in a barbecue joint, going over
suspects and leads. He could lean in and oh so slowly lick that tiny bit
of syrup away.

Which, of course, was exactly what he did.

"You had some syrup," he explained as he pulled back and looked into her
eyes, his voice a few octaves lower than normal.

"Mulder, get off the bed."

Not quite the reaction he expected, but he obliged nonetheless. Scully
brought each of the four corners on their makeshift tablecloth together
and lifted the entire load, dishes and all, off the bed and set the
bundle in the far corner of her bedroom.

He smirked at her. "Done with breakfast?"

She shook her head slowly as she climbed up onto the bed on her knees.
"Ready for dessert."

"Traditionally," he commented conversationally as he adopted her
position on the bed, "I don't believe dessert is served after
breakfast."

"Good thing we've never stood on tradition then," she whispered, her
hand pressing against his breastbone.

"Good thing," he agreed, one of his hands falling to her hip, the other
cupping her cheek.

"Do you know the real reason I declared today a free day?"

"Why?" He really wanted to know. His thumb moved up and down, tracing
the delicate bones in her face.

Her eyes shut for a moment, then slowly fluttered open. "I don't
remember last night clearly. I have images, sensations, but nothing
concrete." Her smile was self-deprecating. "If our relationship is going
to be changed or strained by this big, supposedly unchangeable thing
we've done, I damn sure want to remember it clearly."

He laughed at that. He couldn't help himself. Partly because it was
funny, but mostly because he shared her feelings. His laughter set her
off and he watched her lips turn up and her eyes shine extra bright. And
because it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life, he
had to kiss her. They laughed as he placed both his hands on her lower
back and pulled her closer and they laughed as her arms wrapped around
his shoulders and they both collapsed onto their sides. They laughed so
hard tears rolled down their cheeks and Mulder saw that whether she
realized it or not, Scully had just doubled her efforts in this campaign
against his fear.

It felt like her tears were soaking into his skin and he couldn't help
but wonder if his were doing the same to her. Either way, it was a heady
feeling, being this close to someone, being unafraid to laugh and cry at
the same time. Once again, Scully was surprising him with her
willingness to let go of her control. His fingers found the buttons on
her shirt and he slowly undid them. He wasn't in a hurry to end this
quickly, or even to be inside her. Surprisingly enough, what he
desperately needed more than anything was her skin. He needed to feel it
against his own.

His shirt peeled off her body easily and he felt her hand inch its way
between their bodies. She cupped his rapidly hardening penis through his
jeans and their eyes met. His lips twitched and his eyebrows rose and he
tried like hell not to say what had just occurred to him. Her eyes
narrowed as though she'd read his mind. Her next statement confirmed it.

"Mulder, so help me God, if you say 'leggo my eggo--"

And then they were both giggling and snickering like a couple of eighth
graders who'd just heard a dirty joke. Their lips kept meeting, almost
by accident, while they continued to chuckle and guffaw. They somehow
managed to get his jeans off and while they weren't fresh, both their
cheeks were still wet with tears. He marveled for a moment at the
perfect way their mouths kept moving toward each other, but then he
remembered his magnet theory and decided to share it with her later.
She'd probably dismiss it as being ridiculous and he'd have to start
kissing her all over again, just to prove himself.

"This is good," he whispered into her ear. Her hands were roaming freely
over his upper body and his hands were taking the same liberty with her.

"This is better than good, Mulder."

He looked at her, really looked at her in the daylight. He didn't have a
clear memory of last night, but already, he could tell this was better.
Making love to Scully in the full light of day was already amazing.
Being able to clearly see her, it felt more like going into this with
their eyes wide open, rather than fumbling in the dark. Yet another
observation he made mental note to add to his list of things that should
scare him, but didn't.

He pressed his forehead to hers and traced her spine up and down with
the lightest touch of his fingers. "Better than good?"

"Oh yeah," she confirmed, casually throwing a leg over his hip. Gently,
she sifted her fingers through the hair on the side of his head. "Don't
you know how rare it is, Mulder?"

"What?" Was that his voice? All breathless and drowsy from holding her
so close?

"This. What we have." Their noses brushed and he suspected there were
tears clogging her throat. "Do you think someone who's safe and warm to
you comes along every day?"

"No. I know they don't." He wasn't even sure actual words escaped. He
was lost in thought and emotion. He was safe to her? He was to her,
exactly what she was to him? How the hell did he get that lucky?

"Yeah, well, I had given up on it." They weren't even moving anymore.
Their noses met in Eskimo kisses now and then, but mostly they were just
still, wrapped around one another as they spoke. "I spent the better
part of a decade trying to capture what I'd lost with my father when I
joined the FBI. I wanted someone who made me feel as safe as he did when
he wrapped me in a blanket and carried me to bed. I dated men who were
older than me, established in their careers. And nothing worked. So I
gave up. I accepted that I would never have that feeling again,
especially after my father died. I'd be my own damn safe place."

Her chest expanded against his with the huge breath she took. He looked
into her eyes, so near to his own, and he felt it coming before she
spoke. He didn't know exactly what her words would be, but he was sure
they would effectively make his decision for him.

"And then one night," she began quietly, "you found me in the clutches
of a monster and you held me when I cried. And you didn't think I was
weak or hold any of it against me. You trusted me, the same as you
always had." Her tears slid down his face as though they were his very
own, but her voice barely wobbled. "Mostly, though, you just held me.
And that night, you became the safest thing I have ever known."

He pressed his lips to hers and realized they were crying each other's
tears. The thought comforted him in ways he couldn't begin to process.
>From their first case together, Mulder had always known Scully could
bring out the full gamut of his emotions with a few words and the right
expression on her face. Until today, he hadn't accepted that it was
something they did to each other. Until today, he hadn't accepted how
much he loved it.

Again and again, he tasted her mouth, throat and collarbones. Her hands
ran through his hair and traced imaginary patterns on his back. He
covered her arms with his mouth, then sucked on each one of her fingers
in turn. He was delighted to discover that the underside of her upper
arm was ticklish and that if he nipped lightly at her shoulder she made
the most amazing squeaking noise.

Carefully, he catalogued every move and sound she made. He intended to
remember every second this time around.

Scully was now lying on her back. At some point, she'd maneuvered them
so that he was atop her, most of his weight braced on his elbows. His
face fell between her breasts and he couldn't resist the temptation to
nuzzle them. He brushed baby soft kisses along each breast in turn, then
bumped his nose beneath them. He darted his tongue out and licked the
underside of one breast, causing her to giggle. He filed away another
ticklish spot for future reference and moved on.

She was beautiful. It seemed trite to tell her, so he opted to show her,
instead. He wrapped his lips around one of her nipples and applied the
minimum amount of suction. Her back arched off the bed, pushing her
breast against his mouth. He took the hint, giving her more pressure and
cupping her free breast in his hand. His thumb began circling one nipple
in time with the movements of his tongue on the other. In the back of
his mind, he'd always wondered what Scully would sound like during sex.
In his wildest imaginings, he'd never pegged her for a woman who would
whimper.

Though she'd probably deny that the sounds she was making were whimpers.
And some of them did vary, he'd have to admit. Some of his favorites
were the breathy little sighs that might've started out as his name, but
came out as nonsense. He did now have a strong urge, however, to see if
he could make her purr.

Reluctantly, he abandoned her breasts and trailed his mouth down over
her stomach. He dipped his tongue inside her belly button a few times,
eliciting some odd half-giggle, half-moan hybrid from her mouth. His
hands ran up and down her legs as he traced his lips along her hipbone.
He lifted her slightly and she helped him drape her legs over his
shoulders.

Mulder bit his bottom lip, enjoying his new view immensely. He breathed
her in and felt the slight trembling of her limbs. Absently, he wondered
which one of them was anticipating this more.

He lapped at her for a moment, categorizing her flavor. Two things
occurred to him at once: he definitely liked the way her toes curled up
against his back, and he was now positive that hadn't been the Merlot he
was tasting this morning.

As the pitch of the sounds she made changed, he picked up on something.
The lower she got, the better she was feeling. Soon, he found a groove
he was pretty sure she enjoyed. He swirled his tongue around her clit,
then sucked lightly. Both her hands anchored themselves in his hair and
he began a steady rhythm. Suck and swirl, suck and swirl, each time
sucking a little harder and swirling a little faster.

In a matter of minutes, he heard his name called out in a voice he
wanted to hear again, and again, and again.

Her fingers firmly entrenched in his hair, Scully pulled him up her body
for one of the top five best kisses of his life. Considering Dana Scully
was now responsible for all five, he figured that really said something
about the quality of this latest.

The next thing he knew, she broke the kiss and their positions were
reversed, he on his back and she straddling his thighs. Despite the fact
that he wanted to witness every second of this, his eyes fluttered shut
and his head fell back against the pillows. It felt like her mouth was
everywhere at once. She placed long, wet, open-mouthed kisses over every
inch of his upper torso. If she missed a patch of skin, she surely
covered it on her second pass.

He hadn't really noticed how low she'd gotten until her nose brushed
against one of his balls. His eyes flew open then and he sat up on his
elbows. Watching her press her lips against the head of his cock almost
caused some part of his brain to short circuit. When she took the tip
into her mouth he lost the ability to support his upper body on his
elbows and sunk back into the bed.

She slid her lips halfway down his cock, then moved up again, swirling
her tongue around the head on each pass. He was able to handle this for
all of five minutes before he had to ask her to stop.

"Why?" she wanted to know. Based purely on how she looked, you'd think
he'd taken her ice cream sundae away. Before images of Scully eating ice
cream took over too much of his brain, Mulder pulled her up by her arms
until she was lying along the full length of his body.

"Because I'm not Superman," he muttered against her mouth, "and I want
to be inside you."

Her lips smiled against his. "Good answer."

Moving quickly, she straddled him and slid until his erection pressed
against her. He gave a small thrust up at the same time she gave a small
thrust down.

"So far so good?" he asked, droplets of sweat beading his brow.

She responded with what he assumed to be a low hum of pleasure and
concentration. Inch by inch, she slid down, taking it as slowly as they
both could manage, until they rested hip to hip.

Her eyes, which had closed at some point, opened and met his. He was
sitting up slightly against the headboard and they were finally at even
height. Her hands moved to rest over his breastbone for balance and he
held onto her hips. He followed her lead as she slowly circled her hips
against his, then thrust once, sharply. Circle, circle, circle, thrust,
over and over again.

Her hands moved up to his shoulders, her fingers pressing into his skin
harder with every passing second. He was sure they would have identical
marks later, he on his shoulders, she on her hips. The entire while,
their eyes stayed focused on each other. One of his hands skimmed up her
body, absently cupping a breast on its way to her face. He brushed her
hair back and cradled the side of her head in his palm, the urge to do
so, simply because he could, overwhelming.

She smiled as though she understood his need and leaned forward to kiss
him.

Their hips moved faster and the rhythm they'd established lost some of
its finesse. Soon, her breasts were pressed tightly against his chest,
her fingers clutching at his back convulsively. They were a frenzy of
movement, mouths landing on shoulders and cheeks and necks as any
pretense of 'technique' was thrown out the window.

In his opinion, she did the meanest thing when she latched onto the side
of his neck and bit gently. The pleasure-pain that produced shattered
his control, which meant he came first. But he got her back when he
fluttered his fingers over the insides of her upper-arms. The move made
her giggle, as he'd known it would, but somehow the extra sensation also
pushed over the edge, and she came with a surprised moan.

They slid lower on the bed and she pressed her cheek against his
shoulder tentatively. He hated that and knew it was his own fault. He
wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. Full
body contact truly was the only way to go. Having been given an
invitation, Scully took it upon herself to lay half her body across his
and rest her ear over his heart while their breathing returned to
something approaching normal.

Mulder's eyes were drawn, once again, to Scully's bedside table. The
digital clock read 10:17 and he smiled at that. The first plan he'd
concocted hours ago wouldn't have been plausible even if they =had= been
allowed in to work. When he first opened his eyes this morning, he'd
realized something, even if it had been mostly subconscious. From day
one, he'd never had a choice where Scully was concerned. He pretended he
did, but in the end, he had always let his heart rule his life, even
when logic dictated otherwise. It was the only way he knew of being true
to himself. It was why he was on the path they traveled together.

And, in the end, it was the reason he gave her his answer.

"In answer to your question, Scully, I want more than a night," he said
quietly, pausing until she raised her head to look him in the eye. "How
much more, I can't really say. I don't think I can assign a name to it;
hell, I don't even think they have a name for what you mean to me."

Her lips quirked a little at that. "Define for me, if you would, your
interpretation of 'more'," she requested, her smile turning downright
beguiling.

He returned her smile, something peaceful settling inside him at the
thought of what treasures the future might, for once, hold. "I don't
want to fall asleep without you beside me, ever again," he defined
simply. His fingers ran up the back of her neck, to her hair, and gently
brushed it away from her face. "Good enough?"

She returned her head to its place over his heart, a tiny, contented
smile curving her lips. "It'll do," she whispered lovingly as her eyes
drifted shut. "It'll definitely do."

END