Title: Heartland I: Delta Author: Fey Eiluned Rating: NC-17 WARNING! This fanfic contains sex of the MSR kind! If you don't like reading about that, then don't read this! Spoilers: FTF (not flickfic), Timeline: Late season six, but Biogenesis hasn't happened yet Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not mine. I'm just doing the crazy, kinky things with them that Chris Carter only dreams about. The lyrics belong to U2. Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name, addy and header are included. Oh, and drop me a note. I like to fill myself with pride at seeing my babies archived. FEEEEEEEEDBAAAAAAAACK! Summary: Things get hot in New Orleans. XxX See the sunrise over her skin Don't change it See the sunrise over her skin Dawn changes everything And the delta sun burns bright and violent... U2, "Heartland" XxX FBI Regional Field Office New Orleans, Louisiana July 13 7:39 p.m. I feel his gaze searing me like a flame across the open FBI field office. I stand with my back to him, explaining my autopsy report to another agent, but I can still feel his eyes, raking over me in a most unprofessional way. I wonder if anyone else has noticed. It is hot in New Orleans. Hot and humid. The kind of heat that makes your clothes stick to your body like glue. We are here to assist on a multiple murder case. Handsome young men, found dead in cemeteries, naked and staked through the heart. A friend of mine from the Academy asked us to take a look at it. I could tell he didn't want to be anywhere near this case. Mulder was more than happy to take it on. Until he found out that victims had been left in rather sexually provocative positions. It had taken all of my willpower not to laugh at him when he caught sight of the latest victim, spread eagled over a stone crypt. That was a panic look if I've ever seen one. I try desperately to concentrate on my words, on making sense, but it is too late. All I am aware of is Mulder's eyes, blazing through me, straight to my core. Agent Marlowe looks at me quizzically. "Are you all right, Agent Scully?" he asks. "I'm... I'm fine. Just got a little sidetracked," I reply, dimly listening to a phone ringing. "Now, about the toxicology. You said that the screens showed some kind of chemical?" he prompts me. "Yes. It seemed to be a drug cocktail similar to Ecstasy..." A shout interrupts my speech. "We've got a lead!" Agent Marlowe rises to stand beside me, unnaturally close. The SAC is speaking, but I can't pay attention. The direction I'm now facing forces me to look straight at Mulder. His eyes flicker back and forth between me and Marlowe, and a look of unmistakable jealousy crosses his countenance. I instinctively take a step away from Marlowe, but the damage has been done. To invoke the old cliche, if looks could kill, Agent Marlowe would be pushing up daisies. I wonder what brought on this sudden bout of possessiveness. He usually gets his feathers ruffled whenever there's any kind of threat directed at me. I'm used to that by now. It's been going on for years. But there's no threat here. And I'm certainly not accustomed to the injection of searing lust into the equation. For the longest time, I could never imagine that Mulder felt that way about me. He'd tease, toss witty innuendoes at me until he was blue in the face, but if he really wanted me, he kept it well hidden. Besides now, the only time I've been on the receiving end of one of his you-me-on-the-floor-NOW looks was last summer. He'd stared me down in his hall, seducing me without saying a word. I heard every sacrament he made, but everything hit me when he held my face, his grip just slightly too tight, his thumbs moving in tiny circles on my cheeks. His confessional had tugged at my heartstrings, but this look made me liquefy, made me want to sink to my knees and show him what he really meant to me. I inanely hope that the flush on my face will pass off as a result of the heat invading the office. Marlowe keeps giving me concerned looks and Mulder's expression just keeps getting more murderous. For some odd reason, that turns me on more. The sheer violence in his eyes makes me shiver. "Well, agents. Get to your stakeout sites, keep in contact with me over your radios," SAC Holden clapped his hands together hard and the gathering of agents dispersed, heading for the exits. Agent Marlowe starts to ask me something, but before the first word gets out of his mouth, Mulder is on him. "Let's go, Scully," he says to me, but all of the huff and puff is directed at the understandably confused Marlowe. Mulder's hand darts around me to rest solidly on my lower back, steering me out of the office, leaving Agent Marlowe standing alone in bewilderment. Not a word is spoken as we make our way to our rental car, and Mulder's touch is no less heavy-handed. It feels like he's shooting electricity into me, a tingling numbness radiating up my back and down to my knees. He unlocks my door and swings it open, guiding me into my seat. Only then does he take his hand from me. The door closes and I sit there in a daze. Why is he having such an effect on me? I mean, Christ, he's touched me before. I guess it just never felt like he was about to throw me on the floor and fuck me until I can't remember my own name. He gets in and starts the ignition, and I can't help but shudder at the course my thoughts are taking. He throws me a glance, his expression a little softer but no less wanton, and I get the eerie feeling that he knows what I'm thinking about. Hell, I'm so aroused, he can probably smell it. I shift under his gaze, crossing my legs tightly. This does absolutely nothing to alleviate my own situation and only seems to clue him in more. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips before he puts the car in gear and pulls out into the traffic. "So, how do you feel about sitting in a cemetery all night?" he asks nonchalantly, breaking the silence with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I give him a confused look. "What are you talking about?" I say, relieved to hear that my voice sounds as bland as it usually does. "Weren't you listening to Holden? We're staking out the St. Louis #3 cemetery tonight. All night." His last words hold a subtle promise. I stare at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what's up his sleeve. His face reveals nothing, so I pull out the map of New Orleans. "Where is this cemetery?" I ask. "On Esplanade Avenue. I don't think we can miss it." XxX Things feel normal, I think as we wander through the cemetery. Maybe there's still an undercurrent of... something, but I can't put my finger on it. "Let's find a place to sit. We're going to be here a while. We might as well be comfortable," he says, turning down a path. That innuendo is in his words again, I can hear it. I follow him silently, so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I nearly knock him over when he stops suddenly. He nods to a statue looking over the tomb. "That looks familiar," he says. I look at the tall, grey marble angel, her arms crossed over her chest, her wings folded at her back, her head bowed in contemplation. "Wasn't that in Interview With The Vampire?" I ask. He looks mildly surprised. "I didn't think you were into vampire movies, Scully." "I'm not. But I saw that one." He motions to a stone bench that rests in the shade of a tall cottonwood tree. "Have a seat." I'm beginning to feel a little nervous about him, and I really can't say why. I keep catching him staring at me with this hungry look on his face, like he wants to devour me whole. I sit on the bench, leaving enough room for him. He doesn't sit, though. He stands in front of me, entirely too close for comfort, so that he towers over me and I have to crane my neck to see his face. My feet are dangling from the high bench, swinging back and forth like a child's. "It's hot, isn't it?" he asks, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual. I nod in agreement, sending a glance at the burning sun, dipping low in the pale blue sky. "You think it would cool off. I think it's around eight p.m." I reply, trying to make innocuous conversation. "Mm-hm. It'll be getting dark soon." He's staring down at me, his face stony. Christ, he is making me uncomfortable. Well, to be completely honest, he's really turning me on. With Mulder, they're synonymous. "You aren't afraid, are you?" he queries. My eyebrow creeps up without my consent. "Afraid? Of what?" I shoot back. He shrugs casually. "Well, this is a creepy old cemetery. Something might jump out of one of those tombs and get you." His voice is all honey, dripping over me with its sticky sweetness. "I seriously doubt that, Mulder," I try to sound cocky, the way he always does, but it just ends up sounding breathy. Surprisingly, he backs off, moving to lean against the tree. Everything is quiet for a long time, and I watch the sun slide down to the horizon, stretching itself from a ball into an odd, liquidy pour. Finally, it drops completely out of sight, and we are left in that time when the sky is still bright, but all of the earth is dark, dusky. Mulder was right; this is a spooky place. All of the shadows are stretched to bizarre lengths, overlapping and melding. I'm sitting in the umbra of the angel, cloaked in darkness. I look up at her, half-afraid that she'll blink at me. It's a stupid childhood fear of mine. I was always terrified that my dolls would come to life. I used to hide them under my bed at night so they couldn't hurt me. A flash of movement catches my eye and I turn my head to see Mulder advancing on me stealthily. My eyes widen involuntarily. His movements make him look like a wolf stalking its prey. Once again, I feel a wet rush of heat between my thighs. I'm not going to lie. I allow myself Mulder fantasies. It's the only thing that keeps me sane. Six years of celibacy can really try your patience. I'll admit that I almost slept with Ed Jerse. But honestly, it was Mulder's face I kept seeing. It's kind of sick. I was fantasizing about the man who was treating me like shit. I guess I'm just a little masochist. Most of the fantasies I have usually involve him being Mr. Dominance. My particular favorite revolves around a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold and a belt. "Did you like him, Scully?" His voice startles me. "Who?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly. He looks at me from under heavy lids, his face sharply shadowed. "Agent Marlowe." He spits the name out as if it were poison. I suddenly get it. He thought I was flirting... "No." He looks marginally satisfied. "Good," he says, moving a step closer to me, within an arm's reach, "I'd hate for him to get the wrong idea." I can't help leaning back on the bench, trying to put some distance between us. He's giving me that look again and I'm afraid of where this is heading. I want it, but damn, am I afraid. "The wr...wrong idea about what?" I stammer as he leans closer. He's hovering right over me now, his hands beside my thighs on the bench, his face inches from mine. "About who you belong to." His voice is so dark and raw that my brain telegraphs the message straight to my clit, and I can't help but shudder hard. I don't think I've ever been this aroused before. "Oh? And who is that?" I murmur, my voice all but gone. His eyes flash in the burgeoning darkness. "Me," he whispers just before sealing his mouth to mine. I am utterly shocked. Mulder is pushing me backward, bending my back into an arch, thrusting his tongue lazily into my mouth. He presses his lean, hard body against me, forcing me to lean back until my top half is suspended over empty space. His arms move to wrap around my waist, holding me to him, his hips grinding against mine. I moan into his mouth and he answers me with a groan of his own, slowly sliding his tongue against mine, flicking the tip against the roof of my mouth. I thought I had been kissed before. Boy, was I wrong. Mulder kisses me with such passion, as if kissing me is the only thing in the world. His body crushes against mine, fitting the rigid length of his cock against my belly. The friction of my clothes against my hardening nipples is breathtaking. I shiver in spite of the sweltering Delta heat. Mulder finally pulls away, giving my bottom lip one last nip. He rises to his full height and steps back, regarding me lustfully. His dark eyes are hypnotic. I feel like I'm in a trance, aware of only one thing. Mulder. "Take your jacket off, Scully." End Part One TITLE: Heartland II: Deserts Dry (1 of 2) AUTHOR: Eiluned E-MAIL ADDRESS: volcanogirl42@hotmail.com DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Xemplary, of course. Archive anywhere else, just keep my name, addy and header with it, and drop me a note to let me know where it's going. Please archive both parts together. DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully do not belong to me. I'm just using them for sex. :` The lyrics belong to U2. SPOILER WARNING: None TIMELINE: Late season six. Let's all pretend Biogenesis never happened. RATING: NC-17 for explicit language and graphic sexual descriptions. If you're under 17 or don't care for this sort of thing, turn back now. CLASSIFICATION: SR KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance SUMMARY: A cool night in a desert motel. Sequel to Delta. AUTHOR'S NOTES: You don't have to read Heartland I: Delta to understand this, although it would probably give you a good background. You can find it at trax.to/BlueVelvet. This is dedicated to Arcadian42, the frustrated smut writer. Here's hoping you can finally write some! THANKS: To my beautiful betas, Dreamshaper, Exley_61, Khyber & Romy. This would have sucked without you... Oh, and Khyber? Thanks for the baseball bat thing. :) And thanks to the reader who suggested sex outside on the hood of the car. Instant inspiration! XxX "Mississippi and the cotton wool heat Sixty-six the highway speaks Of deserts dry, of cool green valleys Gold and silver mines - shining cities..." U2, "Heartland" XxX Rural Highway 117 Cibola County, New Mexico July 23 11:17 p.m. The moon rises in front of us, peeking over the horizon like a shimmering ball of golden fire. For some reason, the moon looks different in New Mexico. In D.C. it's just the moon, silver and faint in the sky. Here, it is fire, a huge orb of flames that rises quickly. If I concentrate, I can actually see its movement. The sky fades from violet to black, stars winking in the cold desert air. The headlights of our car cut into the darkness, illuminating the highway and an occasional jackrabbit, standing on hind legs. They always dart away from their moment in the spotlight, hiding in the sheltering dusk. I stretch my arms above my head, pushing idly at the roof of the car, pressing against my seat until I feel the crack of tension being released in my back. The radio is playing quietly, so quietly that I can't distinguish the song from the rhythm of our tires on the blacktop. Every once in a while, a note floats up to tickle my ears, the twang of a guitar or the hum of a smooth voice. Mulder must have dragged along his Chris Isaak tapes. I turn my attention to my partner, who is staring out into the encroaching night, his hands loose on the steering wheel. Just the sight of him makes me shift in my seat. His eyes are sleepy, the lids drooping low. Thick, dark hair falls rebelliously out of place to sweep across his forehead. Thank God he let it grow back. The short thing was interesting, but I don't think he realized what his hair did to me. I would take every opportunity I could get to touch it, run my fingers through it. And thank God again that he kept his sideburns. Those drive me absolutely crazy. The perfect length, just right for me to slide my tongue over. My lover. The words echo in my mind, bringing up images that make me flush with heat. We've only spent one night together. We've been denied the pleasure ever since. Another case, another cross-country romp. We were too exhausted every night to even think about sex, much less do it. Well, I will admit that I did think about it, lying alone in my motel bed, staring up at the ceiling, my hands idly wandering. I thought about the feel of his tongue gliding over my sex, dipping into me. I tried to recapture the taste of him in my mouth, relying on sensual recollections. And the memory of him thrusting into me was enough to bring me a lonely climax. I miss him, even though he's sitting right beside me. I want to feel his hands on my body, holding me down, taking control. I want him to make me come so hard that I shatter into a million brilliant pieces that he can sow into the indigo firmament, adding a million new stars to light up the night. I want him. "What are you thinking about?" I start at the sound of his voice. My eyes lift to his, watching his face as the glances between me and the road. "Hmm?" he asks. "Oh, nothing. Just about how glad I am that this case is over," I answer. He nods his agreement. "Anything else?" I tilt my head to the side, trying to gauge his mood. "Well, I was thinking about how much I wanted to get into bed," I say, leaving the unspoken 'with you' hanging in the air between us. A faint smile plays on his lips, the same one that I saw in New Orleans. What a tease. I let myself smile in the shadows. At least I know he wants the same thing I do. A faint glow appears on the horizon, focusing into a tall neon sign. A bright blue Saguaro cactus sways jerkily, overshadowing the words 'Acoma Inn'. I find this slightly humorous, considering that we haven't seen a single Saguaro since we've been here. Or maybe I'm just too tired and horny to think straight. "Want to stop for the night?" Mulder asks, slowing the car. I glance at the glowing LCD clock on the dashboard. 11:37. "Sure," I reply. He pulls the car into the gravel parking lot, rolling to a stop in front of the office. "I'll go get the rooms," he tells me. The look he gives me says we'll only be using one. I watch him amble up the plywood porch and duck inside the brightly lit office. I pop open my door, stretching my legs out into the cool air. I pull myself up and straighten my skirt, breathing in the soft scent of piņon trees. The desert night is chilly, a breeze sweeping down from the not-so-distant mountains that flank Albuquerque. A bit of dust is picked up in the wind, swirling in a tiny devil and collapsing back onto the ground. I want to look at the stars, but the garish neon sign obscures all but the brightest. The faint crunch of gravel behind me is my only warning of his approach. "Waiting for me?" His hot breath is right in my ear, followed by his tongue. I groan and let him pull me backward against his body. My hips brush against the erection straining in his trousers, and he hums with pleasure. He nips my earlobe a few more times then releases me, turning me to face the car. I raise an eyebrow at him, but my only answer is a quirk of his lips. "I'm in charge now, Scully," he says, sliding his jacket down his shoulders and tossing into the open car, "You do what I tell you." I shiver, and not necessarily from the bite of the wind. I have no idea how he knew that I like it like this, to be dominated completely. But I'm thanking my lucky stars, every single one of them that shimmer down on us in the black desert sky. The neon sign suddenly winks out, leaving us in the dark. I look up at the moon rising steadily behind Mulder. It is impossibly huge and a violent shade of red, casting its light over the waking plain. I can hear a coyote yipping in the distance. A second later, another answers, adding its lonely cry to the sonata of the desert. Mulder cocks his eyebrow a me. "Scully. Bend over the car," he orders, his voice all business. I bite my bottom lip and obey, rising up on tiptoe and draping myself over the trunk. The metal is cold against me and my nipples tighten in anticipation of his touch. I jump at the sudden feel of his face against my clothed back and his fingertips on the backs of my knees . They trace a ticklish path up my thighs, under my skirt, stopping to rub around the tops of my stockings. "Mm, I'm glad you wore these," he rumbles, pressing himself against my back, nipping at my neck. A sudden flash of panic hits me. "Mulder, not here... the motel manager..." I stammer. "Shh," he chides quickly, "They're closed for the night. She isn't there. No one is here to see us," his mouth dips to bite at the tendon in my shoulder, "And I want you." I shudder against him, pushing my hips back. Mulder slides his hands under the hem of my skirt, slowly dragging it up my thighs until the fabric is bunched around my waist. His fingers hook under the elastic of my panties, dropping them down around my ankles. The air is cold against my bare skin, sending a wave of shivers over me. I hear the rasp of his zipper and my legs tense in anticipation. Nothing could ever replace the feeling of Mulder's cock inside of me. He's unbelievably big, so long and thick. He's completely spoiled me for any other man. Not that I would want any other. I tilt my head to glance him over my shoulder. He gives me a wicked, predatory smile and pulls my ass toward him. One hand leaves me and I feel his cock pressing against me, hard and hot. He reaches up and pulls his tie loose, starting on the buttons of his shirt. I thrust back impatiently against him, desperate for more. He gives me a stern look and I bite back a smile, settling for the inch or two that is already inside of me. At about the third button, he pushes all the way in. A gasp hitches in my throat at the sudden sensation of complete fullness. He stretches me to the limit. Well, he never was one to adhere to limits. I'm still a little sore from last week's escapades. Well, to be honest, this is the first day I've been able to walk without a limp. Take a woman of my petite proportions who also hasn't had sex in a good six years. Take a man who unveils a baseball bat. I concede, I fully expected to hobble for a week or so. Not that I'm complaining or anything. I catch a glimpse of his face back over my shoulder. His eyes are glassed over, but he is still completely in control, of himself and me. He starts thrusting into me before he's even undressed. Every muscle in my body clenches and I gasp, my eyes snapping shut. Oh, yes. This is what I have been waiting for since New Orleans. I need to be filled by him, all the time. Forget the FBI, forget everything else, I just need Mulder inside me. "Look at me." I force my eyes open and throw a look back at him. His shirt is undone, hanging loose from his shoulders. His flat stomach and defined chest, peeks out at me, beckoning me to run my tongue over the hard muscles. His eyes are open, but hazy with pleasure. I can hear him sucking air in through pursed lips. Mulder's hands slide around my bare hips, lifting my ass up to meet his strokes. He tilts my pelvis, changing the angle of his thrusts. A shot of pleasure courses through me, and I bite my lip hard. His cock rubs against my g-spot, sending shuddering waves over me. He's starting to breath as fast as me, the noise harsh against the quiet. With every pump of his hips, I'm coming closer and closer to climaxing. I clench him inside of me, trying desperately to drag him over the edge with me. His fingers tighten on my hips and his strokes become shorter, more clipped. "Oh, yeah," he moans, tipping forward to rest against my back, "God, Scully... you feel so good." I am too far gone to answer him. The best I can manage is a low pitched moan. He speeds his thrusts, pounding into me, slamming me into the side of the car. The pleasure is so keen that I fear going insane if it doesn't crest soon. He seems to sense this and reaches around me to press firmly on my clit. The cry that I let out echoes through the empty desert night. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, ohyeahohyeah..." he chants, riding my orgasm out, giving a final thrust that seems to pierce straight through me. His body tenses against me, his teeth sinking into my neck, and he lets out a guttural groan. I collapse onto the car and concentrate on feeling him. His cock throbs inside of me, sending tingles down to my toes and back. He pushes himself into me unevenly, his body no longer under his control. After a moment, he founders, letting his weight rest on me. The hot remnants of our fucking slides down the inside of my thighs. Normally, I would rush to clean up, but I want to feel marked by him. Proclaim to the world that I belong to Mulder. I am his, and this proves it. He slowly pulls out of me, drawing my skirt back down to its intended length and zipping his trousers gingerly. He turns my limp body over and presses his lips to mine in a surprisingly chaste kiss, just barely brushing. "Ready to go inside?" he asks, his voice still shaking. I muster all of my remaining energy and nod. He unlocks the trunk, pulls out our suitcases, and leads me to our rooms. Well, to one of them. End Part One TITLE: Heartland II: Deserts Dry (2 of 2) AUTHOR: Eiluned E-MAIL: volcanogirl42@hotmail.com RATING: NC-17 For disclaimer, etc., see part one. XxX Mulder drops the keys while trying to unlock the motel room door. He gives me a quick grin before retrieving the cactus key ring and wrestling the door open. The room is surprisingly clean, for a place that bears an eerie resemblance to the Bates Motel. Mulder drops our suitcases on the dresser and I lock the deadbolt. There is a muffled sproing behind me, and I turn to see Mulder still bouncing from his fall onto the bed. His feet stick off of the end of the mattress and he stares at the ceiling. "Tired?" I ask. He shoots me a lascivious grin. "Not that tired." I toe my shoes off and stretch my feet out. Whoever invented pumps should be horse-whipped. If I were any taller, I'd live in little, flat ballerina slippers. My jacket lands on one of the chairs, my blouse on the other. My skirt stays where it lands. Standing in my bra and stockings, I plant my hands on my hips and look down at Mulder. His eyes slipped closed before my impromptu striptease, and I can't wait to see his face when he opens his eyes. In the meantime, I watch him doze. His lips fall open and I know that he is just about to really crash. I quietly lean over him... "Boo," he says suddenly, reaching up to grab me and wrestle me to the bed. I can't help the startled yelp at his attack. Okay, so he's good at playing possum. I'll file that away for later use. Meanwhile, he's divested me of my bra and is busily sucking at my nipples. I slide my hands into his hair, tugging him up until I can ravage his mouth. Mulder groans and tugs his unbuttoned shirt over his head. I immediately storm the new expanse of bare skin, biting at his nipples, sliding my tongue up from his navel to the little dip under his throat. I could taste him forever. His skin has this unique flavor that hovers between spicy and tangy. Like Thai food, I think with a laugh. He flips me over and situates himself on top of me. I make quick work of his trousers and boxer shorts, sliding them down his legs with my feet. He rubs himself up against me, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that makes me jump and gasp. Oh, my. He's already hard again. Quite a feat for a man his age. "Quick reload time," I breathe, letting my hands get reacquainted with his nether regions. He grins smugly at me. "Oh, well. You know, being a stud and all..." I slap his ass and that shuts him up for the time being. He leans down and plunders my mouth. I fight back, thrusting my tongue up into his mouth, but it's no use. We both know who will win this battle. So, I let him have his way, and he slides down my body, nipping and kissing and licking every inch of skin. Just before he settles his roving mouth between my thighs, I sit up. He gives me a questioning look and I smile slyly at him. "Lie on your back," I order. He cocks his eyebrow. "Oh, so you think you're in charge now?" he asks. "No. I just want you to lie on your back." He shrugs his assent and makes a bouncing dive onto his back. I don't know how he can be so damned energetic. His eyebrows lift again, curious about my intentions. I crawl up the bed, smirking at him and quickly spin so that my face is hovering over his cock. He grabs my hips and pulls me over him, so that I'm straddling his head, now having to stretch to reach his cock. He hums his approval of my chosen position, and then dives in. I tense at the first touch of his tongue, nearly forgetting what I am down here for. He dips inside of me, then gives my sex a long, slow lick. I sigh shakily and skim my tongue down the underside of his cock, wetting my lips before letting him slide down into my throat. His body goes rigid underneath me, a moan vibrating from him into me. Backing off a bit, I catch the ridge with my tongue, sucking lightly on just the head. He grunts and goes back to his task with renewed fervor, seeking out all of those little hot spots that he discovered on our last go-round. Mulder takes me so high, so quickly, that I lose control of all motor functions except hip grinding. My head falls to rest on his thigh. He groans and jerks his hips up, reminding me of my duties, and I moan, not quite ready to be distracted yet. And then he stops. Mother fucking tease. "No more until you learn not to be selfish," he says in a sing-song voice. Grudgingly, I regain control of my tongue and make a quick swipe over his sac, ending with a little twist on his perineum. He cries out and starts sucking my clit hard. I mentally applaud myself. The judges from Sweden and the Netherlands gave that move a ten. And suddenly, I'm coming. It hits me without warning, like those tornadoes that aim for trailer parks. Weird simile, I know, but it's all I can come up with in my present state of bucking on Mulder's tongue. Still twitching, I lick my lips and let Mulder's cock slide back into my mouth, getting down to business. His head falls back onto the pillow and he lets out this wonderful moan. I take that as encouragement and suck him in as deeply as I can, sliding my tongue around his thick shaft with every dip of my head. He tenses up like a bowstring, ready to let fly at any moment. I suck harder, flicking my tongue under the ridge, and he suddenly comes. His cries and moans sound like music to my ears. I swallow everything, sucking him completely dry. I keep my lips wrapped around his cock until he collapses into a shuddering mass. I lick his salty-sweet taste from my lips and settle down into his arms. The world winks out before I can even say good night. XxX End XxX Like this one? Let me know, please... I have astonishingly low self esteem. :` Well, not really, but my shrink says I need affirmation of my worth, whatever the hell that means. Feedback given tongue baths at: volcanogirl42@hotmail.com Visit the rest of my fic at Blue Velvet. http://trax.to/BlueVelvet