******************************
Linen and Steel
 by Rhondda Lake

Disclaimer: I don't own them. CC and FOX does. I'm only borrowing them for
a little while. Honest. 

WARNING: MSR and NC-17. 100% Pure mind candy. You know what that means
kiddies. Don't look for any complicated plots here. If that bothers you,
don't read this. 

This is in answer to a challenge posted on the Romantic's Mailing list.
Come up with a story that would put Mulder or DD in the situation of a
pencil drawn piece of Fan art. In bed, wearing nothing but a sheet, and
one wrist handcuffed to the post. Ohhh, the possibilities. This can be
taken in the context of a story I am currently writing, as it wouldn't
clash. For those Beta Reading WATCHED, or if this is being read after that
story has been posted, assume this is a few months later. 

Special thanks to Nancy Lemieux, editor of infinite patients



LINEN AND STEEL 
by Rhondda Lake 

"Scully? You there?" Mulder let himself into her apartment. Resorting to
using his key only after repeated knocking had no effect. "Scully?" 

Still no answer, and he tried to suppress a rising tide of panic. There
were a thousand reasons why she wouldn't be home. An emergency food run.
An errand she forgot about. A trip to the video store. The apartment was
as neat as always, no signs of struggle. His eyes darted nervously to the
lamp placed on a table in front of the window. 

Ok there were at lease a DOZEN reasons for her not to be home. Except that
it was Friday night. They were not working in the field right now. He
hadn't seen her except for a brief hello this morning in the office as she
was working a consult on a case for VC. Friday night, the night one or the
other of them found some secluded out-of-the-way restaurant, usually
driving an hour or more to ensure they wouldn't be caught. Ever since they
fell prey to canine cleverness and allowed a Dog to not only take over
their lives, but trick them into admitting how they had felt all along.
This had been their designated 'date' night for the past three months. Not
that they ever limited their time 'together' to Friday nights. Whenever
they could steal the time, they spent it with one another while trying to
maintain the outward illusion of a platonic partnership. Trying to look as
if they didn't spend most nights finding new ways to make each other
writhe and scream with pleasure. 

He checked the kitchen. A bottle of wine sat on the counter. Opened, and
airing. A piece of paper, folded so that it stood upright before the
bottle. Two words in Scully's familiar handwriting. "Drink me." Two
glasses sat next to it. He frowned. What the hell? He sniffed at the open
bottle. It smelled alright. Apricots and a hint of orange if his nose
wasn't deceiving him. The label was hand printed. "W. Scully- 1984" One of
her brother's home brews, which Mulder knew from experience were quite
good. 

He poured two glasses of the pale gold wine, only after double checking
the note. No hesitation to her writing, nothing to indicate anything was
wrong. So she'd left him a note of sorts. It still didn't explain where
she was or what was going on. 

He sipped at the wine, rolling it on the tip of his tongue before allowing
it to slide down his throat. It was dry and light, and most definitely
apricot. The usual Bill Scully fine quality. He really did have to meet
this elusive older brother some day. 

There was nothing else in the kitchen. He took his own wine glass and
peeked into the bathroom. Nothing. Then he made his way to the bedroom.
The bed was made with crisp white sheets, the comforter folded down. There
was a note pinned to the top sheet. Setting his glass on the nightstand he
unpinned it and read it. 

'Take your clothes off and get in the bed.' He smiled to himself. Just
what game was she playing? Ok. He could handle this. He trusted her. There
were no signs of hesitation in this note either. It was written smoothly
in Scully's neat script. So, he thought to himself, we are definitely not
going out tonight. 

He took another mouthful of the wine and began to undress. He'd gone home
and changed out of the standard FBI getup, preferring to dress casually
when he was off duty with Scully - as if the change in clothing signaled
the change in demeanor. Their suits were their armor, and there was a
certain touch-me-not attitude that went with them. An attitude they
preferred to shed, at least with each other, when they weren't working. 

As he pulled his polo shirt over his head he felt her. It wasn't a
physical touch. He just knew, on an instinctive level, that she was in the
apartment now. She hadn't been before. He listened. She was being very
quiet. There was no sense of menace or danger to the air. He folded his
shirt - not because he was the neatest person in the world, but because he
knew she hated crumpled clothes on the floor. 

He felt her eyes on him, but when he looked to the doors he saw nothing.
He didn't wonder at his certainty that she was somewhere, out of sight,
watching him. No - not somewhere, in the bathroom. Nor would he, believer
that he was, ever ascribe such knowledge to some ethereal psychic bond.
No, they knew each other too well. It was the automatic awareness of two
people who knew everything about one another, the innate ability of
partners who depend on each other for their very lives; to know the
location of each other. And to top it all off he could just make out the
trace of her spicy perfume. 

Knowing she was watching him made getting undressed an erotic experience.
That she received pleasure from watching his body was incredibly arousing.
He removed his shoes before unbuttoning and unzipping his chinos, sliding
them slowly to the floor before bending to scoop them up and fold them,
laying them on top of his shirt. Clad only in boxers, he smiled to himself
- taking his time removing his watch first, setting it on the nightstand.
Only after stretching the moment as far as he could did he remove the
black silk of his boxers. Turning his back to the bathroom door, he
allowed the soft slide of the fabric to caress him as they slid off. 

Keeping his back to the door he lingered over another mouthful of wine
before sliding quietly between the crisp, clean sheets. 

He kept his eyes on the bathroom door. She came from the side, having
watched him in the mirror. In one hand she held her own wine glass. The
other was behind her back. She wore one of his shirts, with the sleeves
rolled up and tied in a knot at her navel, over a tank top and denim
cut-off shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail, yet little wisps
escaped, refusing to be tamed. She looked very young in those clothes,
that hair style. 

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked teasingly. As her azure eyes raked over his
form under the thin concealment of the sheets, a familiar carnal heat
spread through him. 

She sipped from her wine glass and licked her lips before setting it down
beside his on the nightstand. 

"Immensely." She wore that secretive little smile on her perfect lips. The
ones that told him she knew something that he didn't, and he was going to
have to figure it out on his own. She sat on the edge of the bed and
leaned over to kiss him. Her tongue played along his lips, begging for
entrance. He opened to her, tasting the wine as well as her. One of his
hands slid through the bright coppery strands of her hair, holding her
there as he answered her kiss. Deepening it as he explored the well known
textures and territories, places rendered no less wondrous with
familiarity - no less satisfying. It wasn't simply her body he sought to
explore and arouse, but her soul. All that she was. She was everything to
him: his anchor, his rock, his light and his sanity. Three months ago he
thought he could never love anyone as much as he loved her. He was wrong.
He loved her more every day. Her dedication, her understanding, her
courage... all that she was. He even loved her skepticism. It kept him
grounded. And that she could want him, love him as well, was more then he
ever expected in this lifetime. 

She moved away from his mouth to rain tiny kisses along his jaw. She ran
the back of her hand down his arm leaving a path of gooseflesh in it's
wake. She ran her tongue in a whirl around his ear , but it didn't
disguise the distinctive click. When she tugged his arm up he broke away
to look at her in surprise as he heard the second click. He tugged his arm
to find himself firmly handcuffed to the headboard. 

"Agent Scully as your superior officer I'm going to have to have a word
with you about your misuse of Bureau property." He moved his arm, hearing
the metal glide against wood, the slight noise of the steel links jiggling
together. 

"Ooooh, report me." She smiled her mona lisa smile and moved away from
him. Just out of reach. She slowly untied the front off her overshirt. HIS
shirt, and let it slide down her arms and off. She opened her closet and
hung it on a hook attached to the back of the door. Next she undid the
fastenings of her cut offs, hooking a thumb on either side as she dragged
them down and off her legs- placing them on the same hook. With one swift
move she peeled the tank top away. She hadn't been wearing a bra. Next she
hooked her thumbs in the top of her hunter green bikini briefs. She eased
them off, well aware of what each little move was doing to him. She had
eyes, and no matter how fresh the linens might be, there were some things
you just couldn't hide. Tossing the undergarment into the hamper basket
she closed the closet door and leaned back against it. 

"Enjoying yourself?" She arched one fine eyebrow, aware of his eyes moving
over her in an invisible caress. 

"Immensely." He grinned. He rattled the handcuffs on his wrist. "Care to
take these off?" 

She shook her head slowly as she advanced on the bed. "Nope. It seems to
me, recently, you have always been in control. Now I don't mind. Not
really. You make me feel things no one else has ever made me feel.
However, tonight *I* want to be in control. And Mulder, I guarantee you
won't be disappointed." 

"So these?" He looked at the shiny metal on his wrist. 

"Insurance. Much as I hate having to admit it you are bigger than I am,
and stronger. And if you get carried away... I probably couldn't stop you,
not that I'd want to much. But those," she pointed to the cuffs, "insure
that all I have to do is move away. It's all about control Mulder." 

She crawled up onto the bed next to him, moving so that her face hung in
front of his, her bright hair falling around her to tickle his cheeks. She
didn't touch him. "Do you trust me enough to give me control Mulder?" Her
breath, warm and sweet caressed his face. 

Mulder closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Yeah, Yeah Scully, I trust you
with my heart, and my life." His voice was tight and rough as he spoke. 

There was a suspicious glimmer in her penetrating eyes for a moment, then
it passed and she smiled. She lowered her lips to his. Kissing him softly.
Sliding her lips over his then moving to cover every inch of his face with
tiny, light kisses. 

He grabbed the headboard with his free hand, determined to give her the
control she wanted. Her hands stroked his neck, his throat, leaving a path
which her lips quickly followed - their soft glide more a teasing nuzzle
than a kiss. 

Her hands glided over his shoulders and chest, tracing abstract patterns.
She began to kiss and lick his chest... her hot, wet tongue dancing over
flesh made suddenly over sensitive. He felt her breast brush lightly
against his side, the hardened nipple teasing a pattern down his ribs as
Dana nipped at one of his own nipples, bringing it immediately erect. She
nuzzled and suckled before crossing to the other side, dragging both
breasts achingly over his torso. He had to concentrate on keeping his free
hand wrapped around part of the headboard. The need to touch her was
rapidly becoming overwhelming. Didn't she understand? He wanted to make
her feel these things, he loved to make her feel loved and warm and
wanted. He sought her pleasure before his own because part of him still
couldn't believe she wanted to be with him, and he felt the need to prove
his love, again and again. But she was taking that away from him. 

She had moved down. Her tongue dancing lazy circles around his navel. A
rush of desire shot through him. He was hard now, and beginning to feel
the dull ache of need. 

She moved lower, covering his hips and abdomen with those little tastes,
the feel of her saliva cooling on his body was sexual in the extreme. Her
kisses glanced past where he wanted most to feel them right now, causing a
deep moan from him, and he felt her responding shiver. She allowed him
only the flirtatious gossamer touch of her hair passing over him as her
mouth fell on his thighs, her hands running up and down his legs. Only
when she had equally favored the tops of his feet did she look up at him.
He opened his eyes when he felt her stop, and glanced down his own prone
body, seeing her grinning at him ferally as she crawled back up the bed on
all fours. He felt her mouth close over him, her tongue doing the most
amazing things. He bit back a cry and couldn't help but arch upwards. He
released the headboard and his fingers found her hair, feeling it's cool
silkiness. 

One of her hands found his wrist and pulled it to his side, holding it
there. Her other hand moved to cup him, flexing her fingers to stimulate
him, one finger began lightly tracing that particularly sensitive fine
line of flesh behind his sac. His hips began to thrust as she added
suction, taking him as far into the searing wetness of her mouth as he
could go. 

"God... Dana... I can't... I can't..." He tried to hold back. He really
did, but she wouldn't alow him. He felt the tide overtake him and he
erupted into her mouth. 

When it was over she moved away, tracing a straight line to his mouth with
kisses. His heart still pounding in his ears, his breath still coming in
gasps she kissed him, sharing the taste of himself. He felt the tears
sliding down his face before he realized they were there. Her soft
fingertips brushed them away. 

"I wanted... to make you happy." 

Scully smiled and lay her head on his chest, her body draped over his so
he could feel her nakedness pressed against him. "You did. I wanted
control and I got it. In giving me control you were free. Don't you see?
When you take control, when you hold back to make sure you please me... I
feel as if you're holding back part of yourself. I need you to lose
control once in a while. That is what makes me happy." 

"But that... what you just did... it couldn't have done much for you." 

She laughed, a deep sensual sound that made her body shake on top of him.
She took his free hand and placed it on her backside, allowing his long
fingers to feel her there, incredibly wet. "You can't imagine how horny I
am right now Mulder. THAT did for me alright." 

She gasped as his fingers moved, stroking her. 

"Unlock these damn cuffs and I'll see what I can do about that." 

She leaned forward to kiss the tiny cleft of his chin before opening the
nightstand drawer and extracting the keys. The way her body stretched
against his as she reached to unlock them stimulated tired nerves. Her
knees fell to either side of him, and he could feel her, hot and moist
against his stomach. 

He checked his wrist and saw that he hadn't done any damage. Freed at last
he began to explore her as she lay there. His hands gently but firmly
stroking her sides, her buttocks, the tops of her thighs. His finger
lightly skimming her folds, making her try to press back into his touch,
but he would move them away. For a half hour he teased and tormented her
so. After deciding enough was enough she moved forward a bit, dragging
herself over him, so she could kiss him. Then he was lost in her again.
The feel, the taste, the scent all wove around him, entrapping him in its
spell. 

He felt himself growing hard again. The soft sounds that they made as they
touched and caressed were incidental. At last he allowed his fingers to
find her center, gently circling that point, barely touching it as she
began to rock against him. 

She moved away from his kiss and he felt her slide down, enfolding him in
her confining heat. She sat up, the sentation of being within her drew his
conscious mind up and away from himself leaving behind a creature of pure
animal instinct and need. His hands flowed up her body to caress her
breasts, to tease the nipple as she began to move. Slow, circular
movements designed to drive him mad. He sat up as well, placing most of
his weight on one arm as he tasted her throat, the salt of sweat, the
muskiness that was her, even the faint traces of her perfume. He sat up
further, interrupting her rhythm as he pushed her back slightly.
Supporting her weight with his arms, he felt her legs wrap around him. He
traced a hot, wet path from her throat to her breasts feasting on one,
then the other as they both rocked in a timeless dance. He felt it
building... heard her cry out as her arms tightened around him and her
body tensed. She pulled him after her and he didn't hold back, didn't try
to make it last. He saw black spots swim before his eyes as wave after
wave of pleasure swept through them both. 

Collapsing at last they lay side by side. "You know," he held the
handcuffs up, allowing them to dangle from his finger. "Maybe we should
buy our own set of these. Just so we don't get in trouble for damaging
Bureau equipment yet again." Scully grinned and kissed his mouth softly as
she took the handcuffs from his hand, placing them next to their
wineglasses. She reached over him and took another drink of wine. 

"Mulder... those are my own set." She set the glass back down and lay her
head on the crook of his arm, trying to ignore the wonderfully stunned
expression on his face. 

"You know, we haven't had dinner yet. And since we've already had
desert... how do you feel about chicken a l'orange?" 

"Those are yours?" He finally managed to sputter out. 

"Yup." 

He seemed to relax, "You bought a spare pair in case you lost the ones
from work." 

"Nope. I bought them last week with you in mind. And if you are a good
boy... I just might show you what else I bought... with you in mind." 

Mulder looked into the teasing eyes of the woman he adored. "You know how
I love to solve a mystery Scully." Finis----- 

Rhoni Lake (The Purple Rhino) rhonilak@icontech.com 

Feedback and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism appriciated. Flames ignored.