From qira@genie.com Sun Oct 27 17:58:00 1996
Phoebe Returns (Synopsis: Phoebe jerks Mulder's chain again.)
 by qIra julIyan
 qira@genie.geis.com
 NC-17

 Special Agent Mulder's mind was back at the office as
 he stepped from the elevator on the floor where he lived.
 Chewing on a case presented to him by his partner Scully
 that morning, the brain did not register familiar walls,
 nor doors to other apartments. His fingers went
 automatically into his pants for his keys, and the door
 key almost touched the lock before he realized his door
 hung half an inch ajar.
 On reflex he stepped back and flattened himself
 against the wall. Heart pounding, he went to his holster
 for the gun. If an intruder lurked, he wouldn't for long.
 The door opened on silent hinges as he pushed gently
 and advanced into the first room, gun held straight before
 him. It was dark. Silent. As his eyes adjusted to the
 dimness, he paused his breath for a second to hear the
 slightest sound.
 Nothing.
 He moved farther in. The kitchen was empty. Cereal
 bowl and spoon were still in the drainer. The faucet
 dripped onto the worn spot in the sink enamel. He moved
 past the window to the inner room and peeked. Nothing
 visible. He stepped into the room and lowered his gun
 toward the corner to his right.
 Nothing.
 Huh. He relaxed and lowered the weapon. A quick check
 of his belongings showed nothing was obviously missing.
 And if the place had been searched it was by someone who
 cared deeply that he not know it. Someone not likely to
 leave the door ajar.
 "Hello."
 Mulder jumped nearly out of his skin and spun on the
 voice with his gun almost fired. Instinct suggested he
 hold. A good thing.
 "Phoebe," he whispered. The familiar voice had
 thwarted his reflex, but just barely. A small part of him
 wished he'd fired. He lowered the pistol anyway and
 slipped it back into its holster.
 "Don't shoot, Mulder. I'm harmless." Her eyes were
 wide. Faux innocence. She'd no doubt opened his door and
 left it for him to find, just to jerk his chain. "You
 really should pay more attention to your surroundings,
 Fox." He tensed under her ridicule as she blithely ragged
 on him in the guise of good natured teasing. "You walked
 right past me; I was standing next to the wall by the
 elevator. I could have..."
 "What do you want, Phoebe?" He had a pretty good idea,
 but didn't want to give it up to her.
 She walked into his arms and he stiffened. "I want to
 apologise."
 He fought the desire to press his arms around her, and
 instead leaned away. "For what?"
 "For the way I treated you last time I saw you." She
 leaned back at the waist to look into his eyes and pressed
 herself to his crotch. The washed silk blouse was open at
 the neck and he could see she wore no bra. Memories warred
 in him; some horrible and some delicious. This woman was
 warm flesh and cold stone all at once, just like that day
 long ago on the tomb of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A flash of
 recollection brought an urge to kiss her.
 Instead he took her hands from his waist and stepped
 back. "It's quite all right, Phoebe. No hard feelings.
 Literally."
 "Don't tell me you're upset about..."
 "No. I'm not upset." He turned to the window to get
 away from her, but what he needed was a way out of that
 tiny apartment. He turned back. She stood in the only door
 to the small room. "I would have to have cared in the
 first place to be upset now."
 Her eyes narrowed and she peered at him. "You are
 upset. I can tell."
 "What's to be upset about? You came, you jerked my
 chain, you left. Business as usual."
 "I didn't mean to hurt you." Fingertips touched his
 sternum and sent a shiver down his belly into his pants.
 A lame grin struggled to his face. "I'm not hurt!" He
 wanted desperately to get past her and out of the
 apartment; to just leave her there and hope she would be
 gone when...if he ever returned.
 "I might believe it if you weren't shouting it."
 The muscles in his jaw stood out in knots. How he
 wished he could tell her to just get the hell out! But he
 couldn't behave like such a boor any more than he could
 piss in his pants. "Phoebe, I'm tired; it's been a long
 day."
 "Then, by all means, relax. Take off your jacket and
 make yourself at home." She reached for his lapels and
 pulled his jacket from his shoulders. "Ah! But you are at
 home!"
 "Phoebe..." He took his jacket and folded it, then
 laid it over the back of a chair.
 "Fox, are you going to be a gentleman and accept my
 apology?"
 "I'm not hur..."
 She reached up and drew his head down to kiss him.
 He'd known this was coming, and he knew he was helpless.
 He kissed her back with enthusiasm that swelled in
 shocking strength. Her full mouth was so soft, and brought
 back memories of such abandon his head spun. He felt like
 a kid again, besotted with this woman who could take him
 to heaven in a heartbeat while the world spun away
 beneath.
 "Fox, I've missed you."
 He didn't answer, but his hand hovered over her cheek.
 Wanting to touch her but not wanting to want it, he
 shivered.
 "I'm sorry I hurt you. I want to make it up to you."
 She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek.
 A barrier within him crumbled. He kissed her deeply,
 her face held between his hands like a grail from which he
 drank. She urged his mouth wider and her tongue sparred
 with his. The blood sang in his veins. His head spun.
 Trembling, he lifted her in his arms and set her on the
 leather couch.
 Her eyelids were heavy as she drew him down with her.
 She kicked off her shoes and helped him with his belt. His
 one elbow shook under his weight as his other hand fumbled
 with his pants. Shoes clunked to the floor. Belt buckle
 jingled as he shed everything from the waist down. She
 wriggled out of her skirt beneath him and he settled
 between her legs, hard against her soft, curly hair.
 Heart pounding, he lay still and watched her slowly
 unbutton her blouse, which then fell open to either side
 of her full breasts. Like pale aspic they jiggled, firm
 and creamy. With a moan deep in his chest he took a nipple
 into his mouth and sucked.
 Her voice was a dark whisper. "Good boy. Lovely boy."
 In her voice he could hear what he was doing to her and it
 sent shivers through him. His tongue teased her nipple
 into a knot. The soft flesh of her breast pressed against
 his nose and his breaths made a blowing sound against her
 skin. The pain and effort of the day behind him left as
 his soul filled with soaring delight. His eyelids drooped
 and all the world's edges became fuzzy and soft.
 Like a drugged man, he barely felt her unbutton his
 shirt and pull his tie through then slip them from his
 shoulders. But when he felt his bare chest against her
 belly his skin rose in goosebumps. With a moan he let go
 of her breast and slipped up to press himself hard against
 her curly patch. His swollen lips sucked on her red mouth
 and his tongue went inside. He was twenty-three again and
 the world suddenly revolved around his body and what
 wonderful things he could do with it.
 She shoved him back. Vision bleary, he obeyed with
 only a small whimper. Her hand pressed to his chest, she
 pushed him over onto his back at the other end of the
 couch. Then she knelt between his feet and pressed his
 thighs apart.
 Oh, God. His head fell back over the armrest as she
 took him into her mouth. Her tongue licked, then she
 pulled with a long suck. Again with the lick against that
 crazy spot just under the head, and another pull. Muscles
 in his thighs jerked. His chest heaved. Each pull brought
 him so close he didn't know whether to warn her or to hope
 she would swallow him.
 Just when he thought he couldn't stand any more, she
 let go of him and with a parting kiss to the tip pressed
 his knees back down to the leather upholstery. In an
 instant she straddled him and settled over him.
 Colors danced before his eyes and he held her waist to
 shove himself farther in. His head came up from the
 armrest in a convulsion of ecstacy. She held his chin and
 urged his head back, then bent to lick his nipple. His
 hands gripped the armrest to either side of his head, and
 as her tongue touched his other nipple he thrust and
 raised her several inches.
 "Shhh, let me do the work," she whispered into his
 ear.
 He tried to relax, but every muscle trembled. He
 wished he could shove his entire body into her. So warm
 around him!
 Her fingernails touched his nipples and his chest
 heaved for breath. She moved, her hips undulating. He was
 going to come any second, but he knew he didn't dare.
 In one swift movement, he pulled her to him and
 slipped her under him as he rolled to the top. Still
 embedded, he then shoved himself hard into her.
 She moaned. This was what she liked. He reached down
 to open her wide, and shoved in deeper. Her heels dug into
 his back, urging him on. She writhed beneath him as he
 shoved again and again. His breaths heaved from him. Her
 long, thin cry sent him over. The world went black. His
 body shuddered as he gave himself up to her. He kept
 moving, unwilling to end this.
 If it ended, he would have to talk to her.
 "Mulder?" Scully's voice came from the other room.
 "Mulder, your door was open..."
 The world came suddenly into painful focus and Mulder
 made a grab for his pants just as Scully entered the room.
 She stopped, eyes wide, and her mouth dropped open.
 "Scul..." He covered himself with the wadded fabric and
 stood. The belt jangled to the floor. As she stared, he
 felt more naked than he'd ever been in his life.
 "Oh, I'm sorry." She turned to leave, her cheeks
 flaming.
 "Don't go."
 "Mulder..." Phoebe's voice had that ugly, controlling
 quality.
 Scully turned back, but kept her eyes averted. "I'll
 just wait out here so you can get dressed." She went into
 the other room.
 Mulder turned to Phoebe and gestured for her to get
 dressed. Her eyes flashed toward the door. "Are you
 banging her?"
 He gave a simple head shake. Then he pulled his pants
 on and picked his shirt up off the floor. Phoebe pulled
 her clothes on, irritation in her every movement. Then,
 ready to go, she turned to Mulder and gave him a kiss. It
 was painful on his swollen mouth. He watched her leave.
 Scully peeked around the door frame. "You decent?"
 "Yeah." He pulled his shirt on and buttoned it as
 Scully came in. "Sorry about that, Scully."
 "How come?" Her mouth was trying to smile, but her
 cheeks were still red and she looked a little wall-eyed.
 "She took me by surprise."
 "Ambushed you, huh? Forced you onto the couch?" She
 made a reach for the phone. "Should I call the police,
 tell them you've been raped?"
 "No, Scully..."
 "It's okay, Mulder. No big deal." She hooked her hair
 behind one ear and stared around the room at everything
 but Mulder. "I shouldn't have walked in like that. I heard
 noises, but I thought you were watching a movie. I'll
 knock next time."
 Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but knew
 there was nothing to say that would make sense. Scully was
 his partner, not his lover.
 But somehow he sensed something would never be quite
 right between them again.

end