#xfsummer2019

“This is a good look for you, Mulder,” she declares, as she unbuttons one, then two of his jersey’s closures. His eyes flicker brightly, eyebrows punctuating his genuine surprise. “You think so?” His words come out encased in a grin — one she returns, eyes alight with just a hint of mischief.

“Mmm, I do,” she practically purrs as she maneuvers the shirt down and off his shoulders. But instead of discarding it to the floor like he did her clothes, she acts on instinct; slipping one arm and then the next into it. The fabric nearly swallows her petite frame, but if his gaze is any indication he more than appreciates the impulse.

His hands bracket her hips through the material, his eyes have dilated and when he tugs her across the few remaining inches left between them she hears the change in his breathing. It’s grown haggard, notably aroused which arouses her in return. Seated on the bed he’s the barest fraction shorter than her; the change in perspective allowing her the rare chance of looming over him as he so often does her. She hitches a leg up over one side of his lap, knee pressed in to the bed linens, the other joining just after — leaving her astride his lap and still taking advantage of the added height. He doesn’t seem to mind.

The kiss drifts in limbo between them — her lips parted and ready, but staying just out of orbit of his own — suspended desire biding time until they crash into one another; prolonging the inevitable to what feels like near torturous lengths. 

“You realize you’re a living, breathing fantasy right now, Scully,” his laugh can’t cover the deep, wanton quality of his voice; dripping in desire like honey drizzled on warm flesh. Her teeth flash in a smirk, the beryl blue of her eyes constricting as her pupils widen in satisfaction. Heavy lids cover his view of them as her gaze whittles down to a laser edge, focused solely on the fullness of his lips. “Oh...I know.” Her words are but a whisper that gets lost in favor of finally closing the distance.

He gathers her closer not a second later, til she’s flush against him and his arms have encircled her; hands exploring the expanse of his shirt as it engulfs her, fingertips licking up the curve of her spine as his tongue finally probes beyond her lips. She accepts his touch, his overeager tongue, and he’s solid as a rock beneath her. She doesn’t seem to mind that, either. She is nothing if not his absolute equal.

Adding further evidence to that fact, she’s grown impatient. She allowed him his indulgence in undressing her when they’d barely made it past the front door, gotten her down to her skivvies in near record time — not that she had any complaint. But now she does have one; that she’s the only naked flesh within proximity. Impatient fingers tug at his pullover, making it necessary that their lips reluctantly part for her to remove it completely. There's a moment of hesitance where his lack of nudity hangs in the balance; where the kiss is still just a little more vital, persisting for another beat and then two, until finally she tears herself away enough to drag the garment up over his head, her fingers relinquishing the fabric to its fate, as each digit pulses and radiates an unfathomable need to touch him — then, and there — here, and now.  When she meets his eyes again he’s smirking; a veritable shit-eating grin at her eagerness. Her eyes narrow in what is only a caricature of displeasure at him. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Me either,” he palms her breasts beneath his shirt for emphasis — “and yet I still can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

She warms beneath his loving gaze, can’t keep up the act of indifference when he talks to her like that. “Mulder-"

“I’m serious Scully, I know how lucky I am.” Sometimes his earnestness is enough to break her heart.

“Well,” her nails rake ever so softly down the muscles of his chest, “then that makes two of us.”

Before he has the chance to turn into an all-out sap, he turns her world upside down instead — her back landing against the sheets and his lips landing against her. He traces a leisurely path away from her mouth, to her neck; paying special attention to the point above her pulse, the one that makes some of the most delicious sounds he’s ever heard tumble from her lips. He kisses a slow, soft trail down between her breasts, mind wandering and yet focused entirely on her. Unspoken litanies he can’t help but consider. 

About how she shimmers; bathed in starlight. Reflecting back all of that ancient wonder straight from her skin. Does she know? Does she have the slightest clue at all? Or are his eyes the only ones perfectly attuned to experience her true presence, to see what she’s really made of? She is celestial. If he just stares hard enough will he unlock the secrets of the unknown universe? Find a map to extraterrestrial certainties in the patterns along her skin; the smatterings of stars with the good fortune of adorning her face?

"I can hear you thinking..." Her voice breaks through his rampant soliloquizing, and his laugh comes out in a hot breath against her navel. "I didn't know you were telepathic, Scully."

They do this. Bandy words no matter if they're in the office, or in bed. Their relationship has always been so cerebral, it's difficult at times to separate out from the newly blossoming physical aspects they've begun to dabble in. He likes it though, and thinks she does too — even when he's so very close to where she wants him and he chooses now to spar with her. Fingers thread into his hair and he feels the tell-tale push against his scalp. A modest attempt at getting him back on track. 

"Imagine how well this will come in handy during our next interrogation..." He's pushing it, he knows; and the just-perceptible urging her body is trying to communicate to him is almost enough to make him quit while he's still ahead. Almost.

"Use your words, Scully."

Tell him a mere few months ago that there's a little (maybe more than a little) part of Dana Scully that likes being told what to do in bed and he'd have no idea how to process that information. It's still new, still decidedly fascinating, and there's a little part of him that thinks maybe it does make more sense than he initially would have thought.

She huffs in mounting frustration, her grip on his hair clenching tighter in silent warning, but it's still not quite enough. His lips graze the flesh above her ilium, deliberate; skirting the line of obstinance. "Mulderrr..." The whine in her voice finally does it; her concession begetting his own. But before she truly has time to grasp his sudden change in intention, he's stripped her panties right down her legs, and settled himself between them with no further contest.

At the first point of sensuous contact she goes soft — ripens like the first pristine fruit of a proliferate harvest. He warms her over until she's boneless, syrupy; caresses her with lips and tongue so assiduously she forgets he was only just pushing her buttons. He's good at that; more than she'd care to admit. Has a way of kissing her, diverting her exasperation with him, whether it's earned or not, and muddling her thoughts into their pure, baser form — touch, be touched, need.

His hands grope and glide along every inch of her within reach. It's near sensory overload, he must be aware, because just before it's all too much they finally settle; clutching where her hips convene with her waist, holding her steady against the amaranthine onslaught of his ardor for her. With lips, tongue, and the lightest grazes of teeth he makes a perfect medium out of her. Works until she's malleable, pliant; nearly serene. But then his fingers plunge inside and she becomes molten; fleshy and responsive in body and soul. From her lips comes a breathy refrain — mellifluous, enchanting; the kind of sounds a man dreams of creating in a woman, that echo softly around the breadth of the room.

“Jesus, Mulder —“ she’s breathless, even trembling afterwards; an image that were he to lose every other memory he has, would somehow find a way to stay with him.

“Come up here.” Her chest is still heaving but she’s no less strong-willed. It will take more than one fantastic orgasm for her to lose a single ounce of her mettle. And that’s just fine by him.

He finds his way back up to her waiting lips, kisses her all but senseless; lets the taste of herself suffuse on her tongue. Her hand weaves gently into his hair now, holding him close, nails lightly dragging along, sending little electric shivers racing down his spine, lulling him into a rapt state. An ideal position for turning the tables right back on him, as with the right leverage she’s above him once again.

Wriggling her way down the length of his torso, mapping the hills and valleys of his musculature — she can finally see to the rest of his clothing. His belt requires minimal effort. A strong yank and it’s gone slack; tossed to the floor and no longer of note. The zip and fly of his jeans go next, his briefs equally yielding, all dropped to the floor and quickly forgotten.

Her absence is momentary but all too palpable. Only when she returns does he feel complete. She’s like silk draped across the hard planes of him. Enshrouding him in her softness; a feather’s brush of lips leaving tender impressions along his skin. She is the light that accompanies a supernova. Blinding white and hot; burning out his sins with the simplest touch. Her hands only leave him to reach for his shirt she still wears, but he catches them in his own before she has the chance to shed it.

“Leave it on.”

Her smile is soft then, benevolent; and she nods faintly. His sincerity makes it a painless compromise.

He sits up to face her once again, and engages her in the sweetest kiss they’ve shared all night. Her heart swells up a little too big for her chest — his presses against the cage of his ribs — as if hearts themselves could yearn for one another; pine for a kind of closeness they can never quite achieve. Skin and bone shaping an impassable restriction.

To quelch the hearts’ hammering need she reaches down between them; strokes the full measure of him, turns him even more leaden than before, settles him between her legs and immerses him in the cradle of her warmth.

Air draws swiftly into her lungs at the connection. They’re both still getting used to this; the feeling of him buried to the hilt and pulsating. She starts to move in slow motion, shifting above him in an upsurge then sinking back down and clinging to him in all the right places. He watches the slow animation of her breasts sway in tandem with her body’s rise and fall, mesmerized — transfixed, and reactive — so much that he can’t help but latch onto her middle, meeting her thrust for thrust until she’s quivering all over again.

She ripples like water; eyes like sea-foam rolling back in her head like a wave cresting as it hits its peak, then shudders and recedes until the swell comes in again. Crystalline — glimmering, glistening, devastating and beautiful as can be. His thrusts become slow and immeasurably deep, tantalizing enough for her eyes to roll back yet again and her teeth to sink in to her lip; his name rumbling out a fraction later, followed closely by the sighing affirmations of her satisfaction and then he’s grinning — nearly beaming at her until he’s lost once again to the call of her lips.

She feels spent in his arms, buoyant and filmy; her strength waning to little more than an unsteady motion atop him. He works to keep her moving. Lifts and pulls at her with ease. She can hardly contain her sounds; whimpers and moans coming out as reflex, not a cognizant choice left.

“Oh my god—“ she implores to the ceiling, clutching at him and chasing her third release of the night. Maybe he’s the one who can read minds — heard her quip about one not being enough and in classic Mulder fashion, took it as a hard-out challenge. She can feel him starting to tense and strain beneath her, and then she’s on her back again and he’s pounding into her for all he’s worth. For all they’re both worth and maybe even then some.

“Don’tstopdon’tstop-“ A fervent plea whether or not it’s intended.

“I won’t, baby...” It’s whispered against the shell of her ear; the first of its kind. An amorous epithet she wasn’t aware they’d progressed towards. Her eyes spring open and her heart misplaces a beat. But instead of unnerving her, as it has in the past — something about hearing it in his voice; impulsive and honest, makes her feel just a little bit giddy — girlish, even blushing.

“Say it again.” She responds without thinking. Her eyes find his and she feels him searching through the depths of them; just to make certain he’s heard her correctly.

“Baby,” The grin is back, but it doesn’t cheapen the sentiment in the least. “Baby, baby, baby...“

Her smile matches his, and this time when she rolls her eyes it’s actually voluntary.

She heard the acidity in his voice and she kept her steely gaze reflected on her reflection. She could still feel the tension between them. It had been days. Going on over a week. Maybe it was the nonexistent one night stand she had with Ed Jerse that still hung between them. He was still mad at something. Scully shrugged her shoulders. It felt good to have a man give her the attention that she deserved as a woman rather than the FBI agent. However, when she appeared back in the basement office covered with bruises and cuts, claiming her life was her own, that all disappeared. Ever since then, he treated her like an overprotective alpha male and she was sick of it.

“Well, you are awfully convincing about it,” she spat.

“How long is this going to go on, Scully?”

“What are you talking about?” She turned her head slightly as she took out her pearl earrings. “This farce or what this bullshit going on between us?”

“You’re still mad at me about Philadelphia?” he panned.

“And you’re still mad about me having a life outside of what we do?”

“That’s low, Scully, even coming from you.”

“Bullshit, Mulder! Instead of treating me like your pretend wife, you treat me like a whore.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shot up. “Woah! Woah! Now, wait just a second there, Scully. That is low and untrue.”

“Then why are still trying to punish me for a nonexistent one night stand. How many times do I have to tell you, Mulder? I didn’t sleep with Jerse! Get it through your thick head!”

“This isn’t about you and Jerse!” he snapped. “This is about us, Scully! How do you expect us to be husband and wife if we can’t even act like partners!”

Mulder was trying to undo his ruined tie in frustration, pulling and yanking at the silk. Scully came forward in frustration to help him as the radio band sang, “I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim. I just want to be the one you love.”

“The song is rather ironic,” Mulder whispered. He stilled as Scully’s skilled fingers undid the knot and gently slide the tie from his collard.

The song continued hauntingly. “I don’t want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart.”

She refocused her gaze and met his eyes. “We need to come up with another game plan if we want to get the intel tonight.”

“Scully, Dino is gone for that night. You heard him his wife. They’ll be back tomorrow morning for breakfast, which I promise we’ll be there.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Scully rolled her eyes. “You only do things when it’s convenient for you, Mulder. Scully, I’m going on vacation, go to Philadelphia and chase down this lead. Scully, how could you sleep with a man that ended up being poisoned by hallucinogenic tattoo ink? Why on earth did you get a tattoo, Scully?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do have to be so controlling, Mulder? I told you, this is my life too! We are supposed to be partners. Do you know what that means?”

“Scully…”

“Part-ner,” she stressed the syllables using her doctor’s voice. “Noun. Singular. Either a pair of people engaged in the same activity. Definition two: be the partner of.”

“I don’t need to recite to me the actual definition of what a ‘partner’ is, Scully. What do you want me to do? I’m trying.”

“Are you really? What has been bothering you most? Are you still mad about me and Jerse?”

“Are we really going down to this road, Scully? Now while we are undercover?”

“We have to have it sometime,” she said. She crossed her arms and stood up to her full five foot two height. Mulder looked away as he tried to finish undoing his tie. “The minibar is stocked full of booze if it makes it easier, Mulder.”

He glanced down at the fake wedding band on the left hand. He bit his lip before considering his words carefully. “Why now, Scully?”

“Well, let’s begin with the obvious,” she started.

She was already unzipping that gorgeous black dress that had been driving him crazy all night as she disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed. The bobby pins were coming out of her hair and he heard the pinging of them as she laid them down on the bathroom counter. Mulder was already growing uncomfortable he felt his blood rush downwards. He tried to rub it away. “Not now,” he hissed.

“Did you say something, Mulder?” Scully called.

“No,” he called. He tore off his tie and dress shirt, revealing a white t-shirt was stained with red wine under it. Scully emerged with her red hair flamed curling and wearing a white, fluffy robe. She stood in front of the bathroom with her hands on her hips. “Scully, are you trying to torture me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mulder. Are we doing this talk or not?”

Mulder shuddered to hear the boldness in her voice. “I might need something if we are,” he winced. “I’m almost afraid to say anything since you know how to get away with murder legally.”

“I’ll pour us a couple of drinks. This is on the Bureau's dime after all.”

“I suppose it is,” Mulder whispered in reply. This entire situation was already incredibly uncomfortable as far as he was concerned. His rational mind began already screamed that he should full brakes on this entire situation. “Scully, we really don’t have to do this.”

“I think we do,” she answered. “Ever since Jerse, you walk around with a giant chip on your shoulder. You couldn’t even finish your sentence the day I came in all bruised. I told you, Mulder. This is my life too. I won’t let the x-files or the work consume me.”

“So,” Mulder swallowed, using all of his, “how do we start this conversation?”

“I’d suggest talking.”

“It feels like we are incapable of that sometimes, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, you’re the one with the fancy Oxford education, Agent Mulder. How would you suggest we begin?”

Scully set down two rocks glasses filled with ice and clear liquid. Mulder eyed it warily. “It’s vodka. A very, very good vodka,” she replied to his unspoken question. “The stuff you and I could not afford with our government paychecks.”

She sat down on elegant white leather couches that accompanied the California King bed in the other corner. She folded her legs under her so that her bare toes were the only things that stuck out from underneath her fluffy robe.  Mulder crossed his legs uncomfortably in a vain attempt to hide the growing evidence of his distraction. “How about the way I treated you? Maybe we should just keep my mouth shut before I do something else embarrassing.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Anything I say to you gets me in trouble regardless.”

“Aw, Jesus Christ, Mulder. Quit playing the martyr card. I don’t have time for that shit.”

“Just like you did with Jerse.”

Scully’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I did not sleep with him! I merely spent the night. What the hell makes you think I did?”

“The police reports, Scully! You were wearing a man’s shirt!”

“Doesn’t mean I fucking slept with him, Mulder! You know me for Christ’s sake.”

“Then what do you call it?”

Scully picked up the expensive vodka and downed in one smooth gulp. The fiery liquid burned in her veins and she winced. “I don’t know, Mulder. What would you call it? Being an overprotective ass? Some summer vacation this is turning out to bed.”

“It’s February,” he muttered in annoyance.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re in the desert. Las Vegas. This marriage retreat is ‘Summer Getaway.’ We’re on summer vacation,” she corrected bitterly. “Why the fuck does  the exact choice of words matter, Mulder?”

“So what? Now you’re cursing like a sailor?”

“I’m mad!” Scully slammed the glass down. “I’m mad at you! Do you think that I am incapable of feeling emotions?”

“I don’t know? You are so fucking closed off to the world. How the fuck am I supposed to know what you are thinking?”

Mulder was furious at this point. The combination of being tired of Scully’s closed nature and endless nagging was quickly wearing him down. She frowned and her brow creased with anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you want me to do, Scully? How am I supposed to treat you?”

Scully arched an eyebrow. “What are you afraid of, Mulder? Are you jealous?” Mulder recrossed his legs and grimaced. “Does it bother you that I am finally speaking my mind?” She leaned forward, grabbed the other glass, and emptied in one draught. “Or the fact that I am not acting like the usually Agent Scully that you know?”

Mulder could not help but glance down her robe before quickly looking away. He missed her satisfied smile. “What do you want, Scully?”

“I want you to acknowledge me as you used to, Mulder. As your equal.”

“I still do!”

“You haven’t in weeks,” she scoffed. “You’ve been treating me just like any man who has tried to take over my life.”

“Scully.”

She poured another hefty helping of vodka into the two glasses and glared at Mulder. “You know, you haven’t moved once since we sat down. Have a drink with me,” she challenged. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” He asked. “What on earth has gotten into you, Scully? You aren’t acting like yourself.”

She held out the glass and he took it reluctantly. “Maybe it’s the alcohol. What bothers you more, Mulder? The fact that beneath this,” she motioned to her robed body, “or is that fact that I can be more than Agent Scully?” She shook the vodka glass as the ice clinked against the sides, mocking Mulder. “Is it the thought of me with Jerse?”

“Scully, stop it. I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“This is supposed to be summer vacation. We’re undercover. You know, Jerse took me to some rock bar. It reminded me of something from my teenage years. It was nice to pretend but it wasn’t me.”

“What’s you?”

Scully smiled enigmatically. “You’re looking at me like that again.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t know what to do with me.”

“I don’t.”

“Tell me, Mulder,” she answered. “What do you see?” She sipped the vodka and slipped onto the couch next to him. Her expert blue eyes caught the evidence of him being uncomfortable. “What do you want from me?”

Mulder could see this situation spiraling horribly out of control like an airplane falling to the Earth about to explode. But the look in her eyes pulled at his heart and he found the jealousy that sprung like a vocal no originally ebb underneath her healing gaze. “I was hoping this undercover assignment would be a chance for us to turn the page, start anew. You’ve been nothing but mad at me since we got here. I am tired of us fighting, Scully. I was jealous.” She raised an eyebrow and he corrected himself. “I am jealous. I wish we could really take a summer vacation and just get away from it all.”

“You just had a vacation,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t really that exciting. I would have rather been with you.”

Scully rested her head on her hand and sipped the vodka. “I was really pissed at you.”

“I can imagine. I think you shot me the last time.”

“I still saved you.”

“That’s my favorite scar,” he whispered. He watched her eyes glaze over either from the alcohol or emotions. “I know that sounds a bit macabre but it is true.”

Silently, Scully set the glass aside and leaned closer to him. She glanced down at his lap. “That evidence suggests you are hardly jealous of Jerse,” she murmured.

He tried to pull away but her gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I don’t know what you are trying to do, Scully, or what you want.”

“What do you want, Mulder? Did you wish it had been you?”

“Scully, I don’t think you are in your right frame of mind,” he stuttered trying to push away.  

Scully got up in a fit of rage. “What do you want me to do, Mulder?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “At one moment, I thought we were just partners. The next, after Jerse, I thought you jealous, genuinely jealous. Maybe we could have something after you finally got it through your thick skull that this is my life. I choose who I want to be with. And I see that this…” She gestured wildly to her robe, the empty glasses, and vodka bottle, “was useless.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, standing up suddenly. The blood rushed to the groin again and he winced. “You have me acting like a fool, Scully. I don’t know what you want me to do. Do you want me to be angry? Do you want to pretend what we have is nothing?”

Scully crossed her arms and eyed the enlarged bulge on his suit pants. “What we have is not nothing,” she sighed. “I didn’t sleep from Jerse because of you. You are the one who stopped me. No matter how mad or angry I get with you, it means nothing at the end of the day.”

The radio switched to a new song came on by Lynda Carter, “Baby It’s Just You.” The upbeat jazz ensemble began as she began like a siren. “Like an earthquake starting to roll, I felt my world shake out of control. Like a new world war starting to brew. Baby, it’s just you.” Mulder held out his hand as the song continued.  “Like a cyclone, wild and extreme, I got my mind blown, stalking a dream. Waking up without a clue, ‘cause baby, it’s just you.”

The longest moment paused between them but Scully grasped his open hand and allowed him to pull her close. Roles were forgotten. Work was nonexistent. It was just them. Mulder and Scully. She wrapped her other arm around his neck and pulled him down with gentle pressure. Their foreheads bumped awkwardly and Mulder smiled. Scully pressed against him. “This is for me, huh?”

“For once, I don’t have to hide it.”

They smiled as the singer’s voice continued her siren song. “Help me, help me, rescue my heart. Save me, save me from falling apart. Take me, take me, baby I’m sure. You’ve got the power, you’ve got the cure.”

They swayed together as Scully wrapped her arm around his neck pulling him close. The tempo picked up and she smiled and chuckled. In perfect time, they continued their small little waltz. “I was hoping we could put things to rest,” Mulder continued. “I...I realize that this, whatever it is...we could move forward somehow. Or at least get rid of the bad blood between us that presides over Jerse.”

“I’m willing to move forward if you are,” she whispered.

The song continued and Mulder swayed with her. “Yes,” he promised.

Taking that as a hint, she inches forward, and gently kissed him. It was a simple innocent kiss but the flame swallowed them whole. They broke away briefly to ground themselves in the hotel room. Scully’s hand snaked downwards, her deft fingers unbuckling Mulder’s black leather belt, undoing the button, and zipping down the fly. He took a deep breath and gave a weak smile. “You have me at an unfair advantage here, Scully,” he whispered.

She squeezed him firmly. “I’m a doctor, Mulder. It’s my job to always have the edge.”

He smiled. “Well, Agent Scully, let’s investigate shall we?”

He kissed her again, delving his tongue into her mouth, tasting the drops of vodka from earlier. She moaned in appreciation and began to pull him backward with her to the large king size bed. “Turn out the lights except for the lamp,” she ordered softly.

Her blood was singing as she had fantasized about this moment before. Sometimes it was in their basement office or some motel on the road as they were wrapping up the case. Maybe it had been in a moment of passion or anger. But not like this. The idea of pretending to be someone else was alluring. She played with those cards while she had been of Jerse in Philadelphia but nothing had come of it. Their undercover roles as husband and wife weren’t right either. She twisted off the fake wedding band and placed it on the nightstand. Mulder turned out most of the lights except the lamp she had indicated.

The radio faded to Doris Day and he smiled. “The radio is playing all the right tunes, Scully. Why can’t we?”

“Leave it on.”

The music slowed time as if freezing the moment. Mulder kicked off his shoes and socks. Scully propped herself up on her arms to watch him. “Take off the wedding ring, Mulder.”

“What? How come?”

“Just do it.”

He slipped off the gold band and placed it by the white leather couches. “Now what?”

“Just come here.” He took of the stained white shirt and cast it aside. It was almost like a weight being lifted off of him. He was no longer chained to being Agent Mulder or whatever stupid alter ego the Bureau had dreamed up for their undercover case. He was himself again. They were themselves. “What?”

“Just thinking,” he murmured.

He walked forward, slowly, trying to look confident and in control but Scully burst out laughing. “Stop it, Mulder. You're not making this any easier.”

“First times are never easy,” he answered. He lay beside her on the bed. “I was trying to play it cool. They are awkward, uncomfortable, sometimes forgettable.”

“I’m certain this won’t be.” She propped her head up on her hand and gently traced the puckered wound near his shoulder. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Yes. You?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “No regrets, Scully. Whatever happens between us, it doesn't change a thing.”

“What happens if it does, Mulder,” she asked. Scully let her mind drift to malignant possibilities of what they had destroyed. “What happens…”

Mulder silenced her with a searing kiss that zapped away any lingering doubt that she had between them. She let released her arms and rolled onto her back pulling Mulder closer. “No ‘what happens’ or ‘what ifs’ tonight, Scully.” He kissed her again on her forehead, her temple, her lips. She unconsciously arched her back slightly. “I was jealous. I only imagined what Jerse did to you. I was filled with regret. Regrets that I wasn’t the one who could show you how you deserve to be treated.”

He leisurely ran his hand down her bare thigh. He arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, it’s you now,” she whispered.

“Do you want to pretend some more?” He kissed her softly. “Pretend that we are on summer vacation? Have another drink?”

“I don’t want to cloud my senses anymore,” she told him. “I’m already quite buzzed and feeling quite good. No. I want to do this just as us, Scully and Mulder.”  She raked her fingers through his hair. “I want this to mean something.”

“It already does.” Mulder chuckled and pulled at the knot bounding her robe. She breathed sharply as the cool air hit her bare skin and Mulder’s warm fingertips traced her smooth abdomen. “You were holding out on me, Scully.”

“Hm. Maybe I had a feeling or maybe I finally knew what I wanted with my life,” she told him. “There are still some barriers between us.”

“I want to take my time first.”

In true Vegas fashion, the radio changed to Nat King Cole’s “Love As There Is No Tomorrow.” They smiled at one another as Mulder peeled the robe back like a forbidden fruit. God, how long he had dreamed and fantasized about this moment. Scully, before him as the amazing goddess who stood by him over the past four years as the chased monsters in the dark and became his staunchness defender standing over an autopsy table or by his side in front of Skinner’s desk. He, himself a feeble mortal, allowed to worship at her alter.

Mulder’s fingers traced her body, slowly working his way upwards. Nat King Cole continued in the background. Scully closed her eyes and let her simply enjoy the moment. He gently traced his fingers around her left areola before trailing his tongue and smothering it away with a kiss before moving onto the right. Scully continued to run his fingers through his hair and sigh with ecstasy.

Scully didn’t know why she had let herself go for so long without feeling this...this moment. Everything that encompassed it. He was gentle in his explorations, revenant even. He tore away the remains of the rob as she took of the remains of his lower clothing. Time stood still as they explored each other. Mulder worked his way down, his lips and tongue leaving a path like breadcrumbs to the ultimate treasure. Scully sighed with pleasure as her entire body shivered.

The reaction did not go unnoticed by Mulder. He continued to run his hands up and down her body reverently, trying to memorize every aspect of her and this moment. Scully closed her eyes. Jerse didn’t even come close. Ethan was just to proper and his nagging pressure to marry him properly was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jack continued to treat her as his subordinate, never fully able to disengage with the role of instructor. While their relationship had its sweet moments but mostly was one-sided. They mutually ended it after three months.  Then Daniel. She fell for him because of what he represented. She ended it because he wanted to tuck her away on a shelf like a replica of a bygone era as his wife.

But Mulder…

She gasped as he struck gold. It had been so long since she allowed herself to be a woman and simply be present in the moment. This recent strike of rebellion was not born out of resentment towards Mulder (although he did act like an ass). But it was a sudden desire to change things between them.  A few weeks ago, Scully had experienced a horrific nose bleed. She tried to put it out of her mind but then there was a second nose bleed. At a regular check-up, she mentioned it off handly to her doctor who suggested seeing a specialist for high blood pressure. After all, Scully was in a very dangerous profession. But because of Philidelphia and this stupid undercover assignment, she had yet to find the time.

But in the back of her mind, despite the doctor’s assurances and her own medical training, she had the growing feeling of something bad happening. With that growing feeling slowly starting to gnaw at her insecurities, she decided to take a chance tonight and confront Mulder and see what would happen. She was not complaining at all.

She left his nose nudge that sensitive area away, that marvelous sunflower shucking tongue of his play her like a violin. The warmth was slow at first, like a distant memory, growing at the base of her spine and pelvis. But it was growing slowly, like a smoldering wildfire. He pinched, licked, and teased. It soon became all too much for her and she screamed his name in satisfaction. Mulder lifted his head with a shit eating grin on his face.

“I bet Jerse couldn’t make you scream like that,” he told her.

Scully was on her back, panting heavily. Mulder’s large hands were tracing her legs, her body, everywhere. She chuckled and pulled him upwards so they could be even. “No one has,” she whispered.

She felt like her entire body melted. Had it really been so long since she allowed herself to feel this good? He was gentle in his ministrations, kissing her tenderly. She could taste herself on his lips and it made her weak in her knees. They crawled beneath the 800 Egyptian thread count cotton sheets and he propped his head upon his arm to drink her in. “Scully, you okay?” His fingers traced her profile. She nodded and turned onto her side to press herself against him. She felt the length of him against her stomach. This moment was going to her head. She couldn’t think or reason. Mulder smiled. “Just be in the moment, Scully.”

“Be in the moment. I was by taking a risk like this.”

“I think it is ending up rather well, don’t you?” She was silent. “Scully? Did I say something wrong?”

“Is this just a meaningless one night stand?”

“No!” He promised. He kissed her again and Scully knew she had been lying to herself for a while. “No, I promise. I don’t know how to put into words what I feel. We’ve never actually, uh, been good at that.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she murmured.

“They do.”

Both burst out laughing after a serious moment of silence as Scully rolled on top of him. “Enough chatter,” she whispered. “I’m tired of waiting.”

She was beyond ready. Mulder’s admission that this meant more than a one night stand sealed the deal. She slid down his engorged member and they both moaned at the sensation. Nothing had ever felt so good. Maybe it was whatever had been between them vanishing or four years of pent up stress disappearing or just finally consuming the next evolutionary step in their relationship.

They moved in synchrony, just like they did together in their work. Mulder watched, entranced, as she moved above him like a graceful spirit. He was convinced that this was too good to be true. After all this time. Scully place both of her hands on his shoulders, the pad of her thumb caressing the puckered bullet scar. He grimaced at the pure pleasure of being in her surprised by her own inner strength. “Mulder,” she whimpered.

She rested her forehead against his. A thin sheen of sweat covered his back. “I love you,” he confessed, unable to stop himself.

“I know, Mulder. Me too.”

Their frequency increased, either out of desperation or eagerness to feel every aspect of one another. “I’m close, Scully. I...I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

She nodded wordlessly, panting. “Let go, Mulder. Let go.”

“What about you?”

“It’s okay,” she hushed.

She took his hand with hers and guided below him into the familiar circular rhythm that had gotten her through many lonely nights. Mulder’s eyebrows raised in surprise ad his hazel eyes focused with the intensity that she shuddered. The orgasmic pleasure both felt was overwhelming. It was Mulder first that broke as he cried out into her shoulder. Scully held him close as she rode out the last of his orgasm to help her own. With curled toes and stars behind her eyes, she felt the wave crash over the cliff with both of them on it.

“That…” Mulder laughed. “That was something.”

He wiped away a strand of her wild hair and she smiled. Drunk off their post-coitus lovemaking, laughed like she hadn’t in ages. Mulder held her tightly, his own laughter dancing off the Vegas suite. Then she felt it. The light trickle above her lip. She touched her finger to her nose and saw red blood. “Not again,” she muttered, rushing to the bathroom.

Scully nearly tripped over the sheets dashing to the bathroom with Mulder hot on her heels. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pinched her nostrils in an effort to stem the flow. “Scully?” Mulder asked. She could detect the worry in his voice. “Are you okay?”

She jumped feeling his warm hand trace down the length of her spine, momentarily forgetting the current state of their undress. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah. It’ll stop in a few minutes.”

She looked at their reflections in the mirror. Mulder stood behind Scully, wrapping his arms around her waist, and resting his chin perfectly atop her red hair. Holding the tissue to her nose, she tilted her head back and rested it against his chest. She could vaguely hear his heartbeat and had a strange sense of deja vu. After ten minutes, she managed to stop the bleeding and Mulder hugged her tightly. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” she answered him.

She threw away the bloodied toilet paper and eyed it one last time before letting Mulder bring them back to bed. He held the blanket open for her as she climbed in first and then him. Scully let herself be wrapped up in his embrace, forgetting about the bloody noses and the fact they were supposed to undercover.

“You know, Scully,” he whispered, “we should consider summer vacation more often.”

“It’s February,” she yawned. “In the desert.”

“Don’t ruin this fantasy, Scully,” he whispered. “This the beginning of something wonderful. I promise.”

“Promise me that nothing will change between us,” she breathed.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re still equaled.”

“In every aspect. Do you want me to get you a desk?”