From starbuck72@netaxis.ca Sun Nov 24 21:06:39 1996
The Miracle (1/1)
by Leyla Harrison
<starbuck72@netaxis.ca>

OK to post to the newsgroup.

Summary:  Mulder and Scully take their relationship to a new level.

Rating: MSR, definitely NC-17.  Non-shippers, leave now.  All others, be 
warned: contained within this story is strictly mind candy.  No X-File.  
Some Mulder and Scully angst.  Sappy romantic ending.

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are the creation of Chris Carter and belong 
to Fox Television and 1013 Productions.  I wouldn't dare consider them 
mine.

All comments and feedback are welcomed (and encouraged).

A *very* special thanks to KLS, without whom I wouldn't have any reason 
to be writing this kind of stuff again.  Now, I have a reason to.  You 
give me inspiration on a daily basis - and I'm not just talking about 
writing this stuff.  I love you.

**********

I watched Scully with interest.  She was definitely reacting to 
something, although I wasn't quite sure of what she was reacting to.

Could it be the stress?  The exhaustion of the past few days?  The 
gruesome nature of the case we had just finished up with?  The brutal 
weather conditions?

Or was she flirting with the desk clerk at the hotel?

The thought boggled my mind.  I had always thought of Scully as a 
professional first, and a woman second.  And when I thought of her as a 
woman, I thought of her as the woman in my life.  I never vocalized it in 
exactly those terms, of course, because she would have shot me one of 
those Mulder,-you're-nuts looks and then she would have fixed me with one 
of her withering stares, which would have shut me up quickly.  Which was 
why I never told her that she was, in fact, the woman in my life.  I 
mean, she was my partner.  My best friend.  But deep down, I always knew 
that I harbored feelings for Scully that were completely unprofessional 
in nature.  

The Bureau has rules, of course, about fraternizing between partners.  
But then they do the unthinkable - they put two people together and force 
them to spend practically every waking minute together.  They ask those 
two people to put their lives on the line for each other every day.  They 
ask those two people to trust each other with everything.  And when it 
came to Scully and I, the things we trusted each other were big things.  
Big, monumental things.  Things like feelings.  Emotions.

These were things that I knew Scully wasn't good with.

But she trusted me with them anyhow.

And the funny thing about the Bureau's rule was, get this, that once they 
put these two people together in this situation, they expected them not 
to have feelings for each other that were not of a professional nature.

That was the rub: when you're that close with someone, when you have to 
trust someone that much, one of two things happens.  Either you hate each 
other and the working relationship is fueled by that hate, or you love 
the person, and the relationship is fueled by that passion.

I love Scully.  No doubt about it.

I've never told her that, though.

And I know damn well that she loves me, too.  Although for the life of 
me, I can't figure out why.  I mean, I give her every reason not to.  I 
would never admit it to her, but I *do* ditch her all the time, and I 
think she's getting really tired of that.  I run off, half-cocked, on 
some other "crazy" theory, as she likes to call them, and I usually leave 
her behind, hoping she'll figure it out in time to catch up with me.  
Well, I should rephrase that.  I expect her to figure it out in time.  
And as pissed as she gets about being left behind, she always does.

Not to mention that she usually winds up saving me from getting myself 
killed, or having my ass put in a sling by Skinner.

She's my best friend.  I trust her with more than I've ever dreamed I 
would trust anyone.  I also think I know her better than anyone.  

You see, Dana Katherine Scully has this thing about being this 
no-nonsense, practical, professional, even keeled, forensic pathologist 
and Bureau agent.  And she is all of those things.  But she's more than 
that.  She's a human being, with feelings and emotions and an amazing 
spirit.  

For one thing, she's an incurable romantic.  (This I know from checking 
out her bookshelf one day when she was making coffee for us at her 
apartment.  She has a copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's.  First edition, no 
less.)  She's got fears.  I think she's scared of growing old and not 
ever getting married, not having kids, all of that.  She's told me a 
hundred times that her work is more important to her than all of it, but 
I know she wants it nonetheless.  She has fears about letting the 
nightmarish things that we deal with on a daily basis getting into her 
head.  She has fears about what happened to her - or what didn't happen 
to her.  She won't tell me this, but I know she's scared shitless about 
it.

These are things about her that she doesn't let anyone else know.  She 
hardly even realizes that she lets me know these things, actually.  
Although I think she does realize that she's let down more emotional 
walls when she's around me than she's ever done before.  She likes to 
hide behind this mask of professionalism and stoic detached emotion, but 
I know better.

So to see her practically flirting with the hotel clerk was a bit 
disconcerting to me.

I mean, she was *giggling*, for God's sake.  I don't think I've ever 
heard Scully giggle before.  

It was infectious.  I had this overwhelming urge to want to figure out 
exactly what it was that made her do that so I could hear it again.  I 
mean, it lit up her whole face.  

It's pretty rare for Scully to crack a smile under normal circumstances, 
let alone laugh.  Although I have seen her smile a few times.  And when 
she does, it's like I know that everything, and I mean everything, is 
going to be OK.  

When I've seen her smile those few times, I've known without a doubt that 
I was head over heels in love with her.  And I've known that she feels 
the same way about me.  We both know it.  We've just chosen never to 
discuss it, ever, and never, *never* to act upon it.

There have been a million little things that have convinced me.  The 
touches, for example.  Scully and I touch each other - not in the way 
you're thinking - but it happens, and when it does, it's usually because 
we need to.  I mean, we do it because we physically and emotionally need 
to have that to check in with each other, to make sure that the other is 
OK, that we're still connected in that way that Scully and I are.

Sometimes I need to touch her to make sure that she's all right after 
something horrible has happened on a case.  I mean, Scully's ended up in 
some pretty nasty situations, most of which are my fault, I think, and I 
have to touch her to make sure that she's not broken emotionally.  To 
make sure that she realizes that she's safe.

Like touching her would tell me that.  Well, maybe it doesn't seem like 
it would.  But it does to me.  

I mean, she has her stock answer ready for me each time - "I'm fine, 
Mulder", but I know better, and I have to just touch her for a moment - 
her face, her hand, something, to reassure myself.

Sometimes she does the same thing.  Sometimes, my temper gets a little 
out of control.  Or I get a little over excited about something.  She 
touches my arm to calm me, to reel me in when I'm going too far.  Little 
does she know that the feel of her fingertips through the fabric of my 
clothing sets my heart racing.

OK, back to the hotel clerk.

The first thing I thought of, was an image of the two of them together, 
really together.  Although when I looked more closely at my fantasy, I 
realized that it wasn't the hotel clerk there with her.  It was me, and 
with that realization I felt a surge of adrenaline shoot from my head 
right down to my groin.  

And then I realized who I was thinking about.

Scully.

My Scully.

Damn it.

What the hell was she doing, anyhow?

*****

Looking back now, I wonder if I actually was really flirting. 

At the time, I didn't even realize I was doing it, not until I saw 
Mulder's eyes darken.  I had glanced over to him and saw the look of 
dismay and disappointment on his face.

Shit.

We both know better than to let our emotions cloud our judgment in our 
work.

But this wasn't work; I mean, we were finished with the case, and Mulder 
and I rarely use our emotions anyhow, regardless of the situation.  I 
mean, people at the Bureau regularly regard us as Spooky and the Ice 
Queen.  Great nicknames, by the way.  It sure makes me feel good to know 
that people I worked with consider me to be a cold, heartless bitch.

Mulder, on the other hand, did everything to deserve his nickname.

But that isn't the point.

The point was, the clerk at the front desk of the hotel was attractive, 
and for the first time in ages, I had noticed that someone attractive was 
actually noticing me.  I mean, I couldn't remember the last time I had 
realized that someone was noticing me in that way.  I was always too busy 
- my mind on work, or on the case at hand.  Or on Mulder.

I have to admit, it *is* a little hard to say that there is anyone else 
in my life except for him.  We spend practically all of our time 
together.  We've seen each other through so much.  And we know each other 
so well.

And we're in love.

That seems a little silly to say.  We've never spoken those words to each 
other, although we both know it's true.  We've never kissed.

Christ.  I can't tell you how many times I've imagined what it would be 
like to kiss him.  

I hate to say that I'm wrapped up in Mulder, although it's true.  I just 
hate the way it sounds.  It makes it sound like I'm just some weak-willed 
female who can't do anything on her own, who just follows the lead of her 
man.  And I know that does not describe me at all.  Not even close.  I 
definitely operate on my own instincts.  If I followed Mulder's 
instincts, he and I would have been in real trouble a long time ago.  
Much worse than what we've gone through.

He knows that I keep him in line.  Grounded.  I don't say that from an 
egotistical point of view at all.  I'm sure he and I would both agree 
that I'm the sensible one in this partnership.

So why the hell was I flirting with that man at the front desk?  

Maybe because I was flattered that someone was interested, in *me*.  The 
guy didn't even know who I worked for.  He was interested in me, because 
of me.  Just because of who I was, as a person, instead of as a 
scientist.  Instead of as an agent for the Bureau.

Amazing. 

I guess somewhere along the line, I had gotten so wrapped up in work, in 
the X-Files, that I forgot - or maybe I just didn't think people noticed 
me like that.

I mean, there's Pendrell, but he's just a kid, and that doesn't count.  
Poor kid, though.  He sure has it bad for me.  I can see it from a mile 
away. It's flattering, but in a high school crush kind of way.

This guy at the front desk was just being nice.  Right?

So why the hell was I feeling so damn guilty for being nice back to him?

*****

We walked in silence up to our rooms.  For once, I didn't offer to take 
Scully's bag.

Let her carry her own bag.

Well, she would have done it anyhow.  I always offered and she always 
politely declined, shooting me the 
I'm-perfectly-able-to-carry-my-own-bag,-thank-you,-Mulder look.

We got off the elevator on the fourth floor and headed down the hall.  

The case was wrapped up, and because of bad weather, Scully and I were 
trapped in this God-forsaken small town for one more night, and the local 
police force had paid for us to spend the night at the local Holiday Inn.

I know it's not the Ritz-Carlton, but it sure was nicer than the motels 
we usually stay at.

As usual, our rooms were next to each other.  I handed Scully her key 
when we got to her room, which she took, her eyes turned down, and I went 
on to my room, a few paces away.  I stopped in front of my door and 
looked back at her.

She looked indescribably hurt.

God, I felt like an ass.

I was using my silence to deliberately try to make her feel guilty over 
something - over nothing, for God's sakes, and it was working, and I felt 
horrible about it.

"Good night, Mulder," she said softly before I could apologize, or say 
anything at all, and unlocked her door and went inside, leaving me in the 
hall alone.

I stood out there in the hall for a moment longer, watching the space she 
had just occupied, then unlocked my own door and went inside my room.

It was big.  Spacious.  Windows with a view of a terrace and a swimming 
pool.  Of course, sleet and rain were coming down in buckets and the wind 
was whipping them against the glass, making little crackling noises.

I set my bag down and quickly changed into sweats and a t-shirt and sat 
down on the bed, turning the TV on for some noise and idly flipping 
through the room service menu.  

God, I was hungry.

Hey, and the bill was on the local police department.

I picked up the phone and ordered a hamburger for myself, and a club 
sandwich for Scully, not having stopped thinking about her for a moment.

She was hurt.

And I, as usual, was to blame.

When room service arrived twenty minutes later, I signed the bill and 
carried the tray next door, knocking lightly.  It took a few moments for 
Scully to answer the door.

She opened the door wearing a white terry cloth robe.  Her hair was wet, 
and her face was pink.

"Mulder," she said, surprised to see the food.  "I was just getting out 
of the shower."

That sent the blood rushing right to my brain.  She was wearing nothing 
under the robe?

It sure didn't look like it.  I could see nothing but bare skin at her 
neck.  I swallowed hard.  "I got you a sandwich.  I thought you might be 
hungry," I managed to get out, trying to keep my composure.  Get a grip, 
Mulder, I told myself.

She nodded.  "Come on in," she said.  "I'm just going to put some clothes 
on," she said, gesturing towards the table by the window, "I'll just be a 
minute.  Why don't you start eating."

She looked so...fresh.  So inviting.  God, I didn't know what to say.  I 
was just standing there, staring at her.  I couldn't move.  She looked 
beautiful.  More so than usual.

I set the food down on the dresser next to the TV.  "Scully, wait."

I reached for her hand because she was turning to go back into the 
bathroom, and I didn't want her to go.  Not yet.  I wanted to apologize. 
 I had trouble saying I was sorry, but I was willing to try.  For Scully. 
 Only for her.

My hand touched hers, and her hand went for mine, and there was a moment 
of awkward fumbling as we found each other's fingers and laced them 
together.  The feeling of her hand in mine was powerful.  The last time I 
had touched her hand like this was Modell.  And that had only been for a 
moment.  But I had memorized the feel of it then, and the memories of it 
came back to me.

I squeezed her hand, hard enough to try to make her understand what I was 
feeling, but not hard enough to hurt her.

She turned to look at me, not releasing my hand as I had expected her to. 
 She just held on.  

"Scully - " I started to say, but stopped.  I had no idea what to say to 
her.  I knew how I felt - sorry, guilty, scared, and even a little 
aroused.  I cursed myself inwardly.  This was not the time for that.

But how could I not?  I was feeling her skin against mine, her cool 
fingers wrapped around mine, and for a brief moment I flashed upon what 
else those cool fingers could be wrapped around, and I stifled an 
involuntary groan.

"Mulder, I - " she started, but I reached forward and put my fingers to 
her lips, touching them for the first time.  I still didn't release her 
hand with my other one.

"Shh."  I let my two fingers rest on those full lips for a moment, 
watching her eyes as they widened a little.  I wanted to see her part 
those lips and to see her pink tongue dart out to run along the length of 
my fingers.

She didn't.

She just stared at me.

With her free hand, she took my hand, moved my fingers, and adjusted my 
hand so that my palm was flush against her cheek and her face.  She 
nestled her face into my hand, and then turned her head enough so that 
she could kiss the inside of the palm of my hand, never once taking her 
eyes off of me.

I felt the temperature in the room go up about fifteen degrees.

God, Scully, I thought, I want to make love to you.  I want to touch you. 
 I want to really touch you.

Her eyes were moist.  I thought she was about to cry.  

God.

*****

Mulder watched me.  I couldn't quite tell what was going through his 
mind, although I knew that he was watching me closely.  And I saw the 
love in his eyes. 

It brought tears to my eyes.  Tears that for once, I didn't try to fight.

See, I have this rule: never cry.

And I rarely break that rule.

But I have had a few exceptions.  The few times that I have cried, it's 
been in front of Mulder.  

He's seen me cry.

He's even held me once when I cried.

I wanted him to hold me at that moment, but not because I was crying.  I 
wanted him to hold me simply because I needed to feel his body close to 
mine.  

I could remember with clarity when he had held me in the foyer of 
Pfaster's house that night, how I had sobbed, how warm and comforting his 
body was.  And there was nothing about it that was arousing at all.  It 
was just pure comfort.  Something I had needed desperately at that time, 
and had needed for a long time, but had been too stubborn to admit to.

This time I wanted to feel his body close to mine for entirely different 
reasons.

We weren't going to cross that line now, were we?  The line we had drawn 
for ourselves, the line we had never spoken of.  Were we going to cross 
it?  

At that moment, I didn't care.  

I wanted him.  And I knew he wanted me as well.  I could see it in his 
eyes.

I lifted his hand and again placed it against my cheek.  So warm.

He pulled me to him then, unexpectedly.  I put my arms around him with no 
hesitation.  

I relaxed into his body immediately, feeling his warmth and smelling the 
familiar smell that I associated with Mulder.  It was soothing, and I 
closed my eyes.

He held me like that for a moment longer, then released me.  I opened my 
eyes.  We were so close that I could have kissed him so easily.  His lips 
were right there.  So close.

Screw it, I thought, and leaned forwards, closing the space between us, 
and brushed my mouth against his.  I wasn't sure of how he would respond. 
 

Well, I take that back.  I was exactly sure of how he would respond.

He kissed me back, hard, almost brutal, crushing my lips against his.  My 
mouth opened and I moaned into his mouth, feeling his tongue dart between 
my lips.  I felt my heart rate increase immediately and felt myself get 
wet almost at the same time.  

Christ.  Just from a kiss.

*****

My hands went for Scully's waist, looking for the sash that was tying the 
robe closed, wanting to have more of her.  I had to have more of her.  

I was still kissing her, and her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer 
to her, letting me explore the inside of her mouth with my tongue.

I was surprised to feel her hands at her waist, covering mine.  I stopped 
kissing her, assuming that she was stopping me from undoing the robe.

And I knew why.  There were a million reasons why we shouldn't do this.  
And I knew that she was going to pick one and spout it off to me, and we 
were going to try to eat our dinner, and try to forget that this had ever 
happened.

Scully took me by surprise.

She untied the robe herself, letting it fall open.  She never took her 
eyes from my face.

I swallowed hard, almost afraid to look.  I was afraid that she would be 
so much more beautiful under that robe than I was imagining she would be.

I finally tore my eyes from hers and glanced down.  The robe fell open 
just enough for me to see the swell of her breasts, her nipples peeking 
out, pink and round, the tips hard.  Her stomach was flat, just as I had 
known it would be, and between her legs I could see the patch of reddish 
hair.

Oh, Jesus.  Oh, fucking Christ. 

She was incredible.

And she was offering herself to me.  Without hesitation.  Without shame.

I reached out one hand and touched her chin, letting my fingers trail 
down her neck, down between her breasts, over her stomach, stopping just 
above the juncture between her legs.  I could hear her draw in a sharp 
breath.

My hand was trembling.  I was unbearably hard.  Painfully so.

"I want..." she breathed, and I nodded.  

"I know.  I want it too."

We moved to the bed and she sat down, her robe still open, her body 
there, warm and inviting and soft.  I knew all of these things, even 
though I wasn't even touching her yet.

I quickly got out of my clothes and stood there, almost embarrassed.  
Like I knew what I wanted to do, what I should do, but I was temporarily 
unable to move.  Like some geeky adolescent virgin.  I was scared 
shitless.

She reached her hand out to me.  "Come to bed," she whispered, her voice 
husky, and I moved towards the bed.  Her words helped ease my paralysis. 
 I slipped the robe off her shoulders and discarded it on the floor 
before I crawled in next to her.

She pulled me close to her and I held her.  Chest to chest.  Every inch 
of her body was pressed up against mine, her arms wrapped around my neck, 
her face buried in my shoulder.  I held her close, relishing how she 
felt.  I could feel every inch of her skin.

My erection was pressed into her thigh, and for a very brief moment I 
thought she would be disgusted, or frightened.  I thought that she would 
realize the gravity of what we were about to do.  I thought she would 
push me away from her, and the thought terrified me.  At that exact 
moment she nestled in closer to me, a soft wordless murmur escaping her 
lips, and I forgot whatever it was I was so fearful of in the first 
place.

This wasn't really happening, was it?

Scully and I, naked, holding each other?

It couldn't be real.  

But it was.

*****

I loved feeling Mulder's body against mine.  I could feel every muscle, 
taut, straining, just as his erection was.  I could feel it pressing 
against me and I knew that I wanted to feel him inside me.  Desperately. 
 A tiny shudder went through me as I realized that I would, very soon.

He pulled back from our embrace and kissed me, soft and slow, this time. 
 I pushed my own tongue into his mouth, exploring, tasting him.  I could 
pick up the faint saltiness of the sunflower seeds I had seen him eating 
in the car over an hour ago.  I smiled.

We stopped kissing and he ran his hands over my body slowly, over my 
shoulders, and down my chest.  His hands weighed my breasts, one hand on 
each, cupping them carefully.  His thumbs brushed over the nipples and I 
gasped, stunned at my reaction.  I could feel both of my nipples 
hardening under his touch.

Jesus.  It was like it sent waves of arousal all through my body, and 
specifically between my legs.  I shifted restlessly against him.

His own eyes widened at my gasp, as if he was amazed that I would respond 
to him like this.  And he did it again, this time letting his thumbs 
tease my nipples a little more.  I gasped again, and moaned softly.  This 
time my astonishment was less, and my arousal was stronger. 

"I just want to touch you everywhere, Scully," he whispered.


He leaned his head down and kissed my neck, my throat, and moved his way 
down to kiss the space between my breasts.  His face nuzzled me there, 
and as much as I relished the contented feeling I got from it, I wanted 
more.

His tongue traced lazy circles just around the outer edges of my nipples. 
 He wasn't touching them.  Not yet.  I closed my eyes and laced my 
fingers into his hair.  

Oh, Mulder, I thought, please.  This is torture.  Pure torture.

Suddenly, without warning, I felt his mouth close over one nipple.  I 
could feel it.  His lips over the nipple, tugging gently, insistently.  
Oh, God.  The feeling was exquisite.

I moaned aloud.  "Mulder."  My voice was tight.

He pulled the nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently, his tongue 
occasionally reaching out to flick gently over the very tip of it.  I was 
clutching his head tighter now.  

More.  I wanted more.  I didn't know if I spoke those words aloud or not, 
but he gave me exactly what I wanted.  He gave my other breast the same 
attention until I was moaning steadily, panting for breath.

He lifted his head and looked up at me, his eyes shining.  

I was still having trouble catching my breath.  "Mulder," I managed to 
say, although I didn't know what else to say after that.

He dropped his head back down to kiss my stomach.  Oh, God.  Oh, Jesus 
Christ, Holy Mary, Mother of God...save me.  

I scooted up on the bed, and he adjusted himself so that he was between 
my legs.  I closed my eyes, letting myself rely on sensation alone.

I could feel him placing light kisses along the inside of my thigh.  He 
had lifted my legs so that he could slip his arms under my knees, 
wrapping his hands around my thighs.  I could feel my legs trembling.  I 
could feel how wet I was.  I could feel his breath on the inside of my 
thighs.  His mouth, I knew, was right there.  Not moving.  Just 
breathing.  I could feel his breath.  Warm.

I was taking in small, sharp breaths.  The tension of the moment was that 
I knew exactly what came next.  I knew that in a few moments, I would be 
unable to think at all.  

I could feel his fingers, opening me wide so that he could have full 
access to me with his mouth.  And then I felt his mouth.  Hot.  Wet.  On 
me.

I cried out sharply, twisting my body on the bed, feeling the sensation 
surge through my body as his lips covered me and I could feel his tongue 
slide over me in one smooth motion.  He used his hands around my legs to 
anchor me to the bed, holding me down as best he could.

His tongue slipped over me again, from bottom to top, lingering there at 
the top, and I writhed.  The feeling of his mouth, his tongue, wet and 
hot, stroking me like that, was too much to bear.  Conscious thought was 
leaving me.

*****

Scully was thrashing around on the bed and I was doing my best to keep 
her steady with my arms.  Her moans were filling the room. 

She looked unbelievable.  She tasted unbelievable.  I was barely able to 
glance up at her, trying to stay focused on what I was doing.  Trying.  I 
could see her, her head moving back and forth on the pillow, her eyes 
squeezed shut, her hands clenched into tiny fists.

I lifted my mouth from her for just a moment and she let out a moan of 
disappointment.  "Mulder," she cried, moving her hands to my head, lacing 
her fingers into my hair.

I let my tongue dart over her once again, and made sure to flick it over 
the very center of her.  She clutched at my head tighter and I heard a 
noise that sounded like a desperate whimper, a plea for more.  

Reluctantly, I lifted my mouth from her again, and she opened her eyes 
for the first time since I had started.  I lifted myself up and moved so 
that I was over her.  I wanted to bring her to orgasm that way, but I 
knew that much more of hearing her moan like that, hearing her say my 
name, and I wouldn't be able to hold back.

"Scully," I murmured, and she pulled me to her, so that we were face to 
face, and she kissed me, breathlessly, and I traced my hands over her, my 
fingertips at the small of her back, urging her body closer to mine.   We 
turned in the bed so that she was nestled in the pillows, and I was atop 
her, looking down at her face, which was filled with longing.  Her eyes, 
staring up at me, were incredibly blue.  I was trying to find the words 
to tell her exactly how beautiful she was.  How incredible.  How in love 
with her I was.

Instead, I slipped inside her slowly, savoring the way she caught her 
bottom lip with her teeth as I moved into her, and I watched her face 
change and her eyes widen as she took me in.

*****

I felt him filling me and I tried not to cry out from the sheer intensity 
of the moment.  How long had I been dreaming about this very thing?  His 
face above me was focused completely on me, on my reaction.

He stilled inside me and rested there for a few moments.  I reached up 
and caressed his face with my hand, gently.  I wanted to communicate to 
him how much this meant to me.  How I felt.  But I couldn't find the 
words.  

"Mulder," I whispered.  This had been inevitable from the start.  I knew 
it.  He knew it.

Neither of us had known it would be like this.  There had been no way of 
knowing.  How could we have known that it would be so powerful?  So 
arousing?

I could feel him, hard, inside me.  Not moving.  Waiting for me to allow 
him to move.  I nodded slightly, unable to speak.

He shifted, and I felt him sliding out, slowly, then back in again.  
Slow, leisurely strokes.  I didn't think I would be able to take it.  I 
watched him carefully, trying to urge him with my eyes to go faster.  I 
knew he was scared to hurt me.  I just wanted to feel him, but as 
arousing as his movements were, they were not enough.  I couldn't get 
enough.

I put my hands up onto his chest and pushed, and I succeeded in catching 
him slightly off guard, enough to flip him over onto his back, with me 
atop him, and us still joined.  I shifted slightly, trying to get used to 
him in this position.  His eyes closed, and a moan escaped his lips.

"Look at me, Mulder," I whispered, not a command, but an entreaty.  He 
obliged, and I smiled weakly at him.  I lifted myself up off him enough 
for him to feel it.  Then lowered myself back down.

He moaned again.  "Scully."

I repeated the movement, up and down, until I felt the muscles in my back 
crying out in pain.  I ignored it.  I had to have this.  Have him.

I felt Mulder's hands move to the small of my back, his fingers pressing 
into me so tightly.  I arched my back a little against his touch.

I was still moving.  Still taking him in, deeper.  His hands left my back 
and sought my breasts.  I gasped as his fingers traced over the nipples, 
teasing them, making them harder than they already were.  

He used his hands to bring both breasts together, crushing them almost, 
and lifted his head so that he could sweep his tongue over both nipples 
at once.

I gasped.  I could feel his hips thrusting up at me, to meet the strokes 
of my body.  

He released my breasts.  I was dimly aware of a low, steady moaning sound 
in the almost quiet room.  I was surprised to realize that it was me.

His hand drifted down to the area where our bodies were joined.  I knew 
exactly what he was looking for.

His fingers sought out amongst the wetness that one part of me that he 
knew would send me right over the edge.  And he found it.  I felt his 
fingers touching me there, and I arched up, feeling his ever so slight 
manipulations, and I cried out again.

He thrust up once, very sharply.  

Then he let out a shout, and I felt my world shattering around me as the 
build up of arousal came to a head.

I collapsed onto his chest, trying to catch my breath, feeling his chest 
rise and fall rapidly as mine was.  His arms encircled my back and held 
me close to him, eventually pulling me from his chest and to his side.  

I kissed the only part of his body that my mouth could reach - his neck - 
and I could swear I heard him sigh.  His arms tightened around me 
slightly.

He kissed the top of my head.  I closed my eyes, snuggling closer to him.

*****

Her body was curled up against mine, her skin cooling.

I kissed her hair a few times, smelling the fragrance of her shampoo - 
subtle and sweet.  With my arms around her, I lightly stroked her back, 
keeping her pulled tightly to me.

Finally, after many minutes had passed, I nuzzled the side of her face, 
and she lifted her head and opened her eyes to look at me.

I've always believed that Scully and I have been blessed with the ability 
to communicate silently, through eye contact, without words.  My belief 
held true to form.  Her eyes were shining, glowing, almost.  I knew at 
that moment that I loved her completely, fully, and without reservation.

I had to break the silence and tell her.  There was so much to say, and 
yet I didn't know exactly how to communicate it all with words.  I would 
just have to hope that she would know everything that was in my heart.

"I love you," I whispered.

*****

The simple statement.  No other words.  He didn't have to say anything 
more.  I wouldn't have expected flowery declarations from him, nor would 
I have wanted any.  And this was all I needed to hear.

"I love you," I murmured back.

He kissed me on the mouth, gently, slowly, his mouth telling me all the 
things we had never said.  With that kiss, he told me how much he had 
loved me all this time, how he had loved me from the first moment, how he 
had never wanted to hurt me.

And as I kissed him back, I told him that I knew.  That I trusted him 
more than I trusted anyone.  That I loved him as well.  That it was all 
right.  

And it truly was.

END


-- 
"I'm fine, Mulder."  --Dana Scully, The X-Files