Title: Don't Mention It Author: mimic117 Email: mimic1172@gmail.com Rating: NC-17 for sure, even without the bad language Category: S Pretty much just a veiled excuse to write smut. Spoilers: Uhhhh..... nope. Set around season 6 or 7, if that makes it easier for you to place their current relationship. Summary: NOW what are they going to do? As if we didn't know. Keywords: RST, sequel to My Pleasure / Likewise. Better read that one first in order to understand this one. Archive: Feel free to filch at will. Just let me know where so I can brag. I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral myself, thanks. Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money. Leave me alone. Thanks: To Sdani and Cybill for volunteering to take on my usual writing mess. They valiantly threw themselves on the grenade and tried to make me presentable for company. If there's anything wrong with this story, it ain't their fault, y'all. Dedicated to Haven's Sybil for her birthday, because she demands so nicely and I'm afraid of her. Sorry it was late, but we will post no smut before its time. In other words, I was feeling insecure and wanted to have it beta'd first. "1/22/04 - not just a great day, but a great day for fic." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Don't Mention It by mimic117 Oh holy hell. She saw me. On the one hand, I'm absolutely appalled. On the other, I'm so turned on, I'd be sporting wood again if I hadn't just shot my wad. Which Scully witnessed -- which probably accounts for the fact that her eyes are as big as silver dollars. I don't know whether I should ask her to leave or to hold up a score card. "What are you doing here?" As I push myself upright on the couch, I realize that I'm still holding the micro-cassette recorder. Her recorder. The one I confiscated a couple months ago for nefarious purposes of my own. Shit. I hope she didn't recognize it. I pull out the headphones plug and stuff it down into the cushions without taking my eyes off her face. Hold her gaze and maybe she won't notice. Right. Fat chance of *that* ever happening. I can practically see the questions swirling behind her eyes. She's just waiting for the right opening to grill me until I'm well done. So I'll go on the offensive. Get her off balance and keep her that way. "I asked you a question, Scully. Why are you here?" She's chewing on her bottom lip. God, I love when she does that. It swells and redden just a little bit, as if she's been thoroughly French kissed. Whenever she does that, it makes me want to pin her against the nearest wall and devour her mouth, push my tongue between her lips, nip at the plump bottom one then -- Focus! You're supposed to be the one in charge of the situation right now. Don't take a trip without a map at a time like this, dammit. "I didn't mean to spy on you, Mulder. I thought you weren't home because you didn't answer your phone and I couldn't detect any noise in here. I figured you'd gone for a run, so I was going to sit down and wait..." My eyes follow her hand as she gestures toward the couch. Well, it looks like she's pointing at the couch, but since I'm still sitting on it, she's really pointing at me. When I glance down, it dawns on me that the front of my T-shirt is sticky with my recent payload. No wonder she looks slightly nauseous. I've been trying to bully Scully into forgetting what she saw, and instead I look like the window outside a porno peep show. Fucking great. I carefully roll the bottom of my shirt up so the wet spot is enclosed, then drag it off over my head. When I stand, my pants gape open. Terrific. I didn't even close the damned zipper, and the area around it is darkened by the moisture. Did I bother to tuck my putz back inside? I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to find it still hanging out, winking at her. Can things get any worse, or did I just jinx myself completely? Mumbling a quick "Be right back." I hold my pants up with one hand and head for the bedroom. I close the door quietly behind me before flinging my shirt across the room. The soft plop it makes against the closet door does nothing to satisfy my aggravation. I don't hear any sounds from the other room, like a door closing on a frantically retreating partner. Of course, I may not be hearing anything because I'm making so much noise slamming drawers and knocking things around on the dresser. I peel off my stained jeans and boxers, and pull on a clean pair of pants without replacing the sticky shorts I was wearing when I got home. Yep. I was so horny again by the time I got here, I didn't even change my clammy underwear. Just flopped on the couch, ripped open my zipper and started pulling the pud. What a cretin. I feel like a hypocrite. Scully is expecting me to be mad at her. Under other circumstances, I might have been ticked off. After I got over the hard-on that resulted from knowing she was watching me, of course. But I have no right to be upset. I did exactly the same thing to her; she just doesn't know it yet. I should never have watched her in the first place, or at the very least, I should have stayed and warned her that I was there. She probably would have been pissed, but she would have gotten over it. It's going to be so much worse now. She thinks she's done something wrong. I have to tell her that she wasn't the only Peeping Tom. I can't let her continue to believe that she's done something I would never do to her. Because I would. And I did. And I don't regret it, but I do wish Scully wasn't quite so good at kicking ass. I yank on a fresh shirt and catch my own reflection in the mirror. I stare at myself as if I can find answers to this whole mess in the reversed image. She's going to feel awful about spying on me, if I know my Scully. It's time to go out there and convince her it's okay that she saw me whacking off. Don't embarrass her. Deep breaths, Mulder. Just try to get past it and make your own confession. You can do this. "So, Scully, you always leave the show right after the big climax?" Oh yeah. That was fucking suave. Congratulations, you're the new Cary Grant. Geez. How can she look pissed and still blush? "I didn't realize you were *busy* or I wouldn't have bothered you." Nope, that remark is staying inside your head, dipwad. Don't say it! "I'm never too *busy* for you, Scully." ARGH! Why aren't you listening? Look. She's heading for the door and it's all your fault. Get her back here and smooth things over or this whole incident will sit between you like a mastodon at the breakfast table. "Scully, wait. Don't leave. I'm sorry I said that. I'm a little nervous. Come and sit down so we can talk, okay?" Good. Better. At least she's decided not to leave. Now, let's keep this impersonal and non-confrontational. You want to reassure her, not start an argument by slinging innuendoes. And no leering, either. She'll be upset enough when she finds out she wasn't the only one getting an eyeful. She's regarding the couch a bit dubiously. I can't really blame her. I'm not very comfortable sitting in the same place where she just witnessed my latest jerk-off session, either. But if we're going to discuss this, we need to sit. Good. She's sitting down. Now maybe we can sort this mess out. "Look, Scully --" "Mulder, I --" Well, we can't both talk at once. "You go first, Scully. Please." She's chewing her lip again. I wish she wouldn't do that when I'm trying to concentrate on what she's saying. "Why didn't you stay when you came over to my apartment earlier?" Question? Oh, right she asked a question. Wait a minute. How does she know I was there? Did she see me? Stall, Mulder. Get more facts before you commit to anything. "What makes you think I came to your apartment?" Jesus, I almost said 'came IN your apartment'! Freud would have loved that one. Talk about thinking with the wrong head... Scully just snorted. That's so cute! She always snorts when she thinks I'm full of shit. I love that sound. Oops, don't want to miss what she's saying. Focus, focus. "I'm a trained investigator, Mulder. You left food in my fridge and mail on the counter. Since I don't believe in teleportation, someone must have brought them inside. No signs of forced entry means someone with a key. It wasn't my mother, because she dropped me off and went home. That leaves one other person as the possible suspect. So why didn't you stay? You must have known I was there." The mail. God almighty, I forgot the damned mail and food. Was I thinking that she wouldn't notice? That's the whole problem -- I wasn't thinking or I wouldn't have stayed there long enough to desecrate her home. She might have missed the smell of sex in her hallway. She might even have bypassed the puddle of drool outside the door. But why did I assume she wouldn't draw the appropriate conclusions from a pile of mail and containers of yogurt? She's still waiting for my answer. I guess now is as good a time as any to fess up. "Ummm... yeah, Scully. I knew you were home. I heard the shower running after I put the food away. I, uh --" "Then why didn't you stay?" I'm on a roll, partner. Please don't stop me or I may never spit this out. Oh damn. She's still talking. Now I won't be able to get a word in edgewise. "If you'd stayed, I never would have come over here and let myself in. I wouldn't have invaded your privacy and caught you... you know. I'm really so sorry, Mulder. I never meant to watch. I just couldn't -- I mean, I wanted --" I can't stand to see her like this. It's not right. I hate to interrupt, buuut... "I saw you, too, Scully." That got her attention. "You what? What did you say?" "I said I saw you, in your shower... earlier." Her eyes just went as big as flying saucers. Oh damn. "I'm sorry, really I am. At first I thought someone else was in your apartment because you weren't supposed to be home yet, so I checked to make sure everything was okay. Only it *was* you and you were naked, and I knew I shouldn't look, but you were so beautiful and sexy, I couldn't help myself. I never meant to pry. I just couldn't take my eyes off you, and... so I, um, left..." Nicely babbled, you smooth-tongued devil. Better give the boys a mental kiss goodbye. You should be applying for a position with the Vienna Boys Choir any minute now. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Oh my god. He saw me. Mulder watched me while I was in the shower. Naked. I should be appalled. So why did I just leave a wet spot in my panties? I can't believe how much it's turning me on to know that he was watching me while I rubbed my hands over my body. Touching myself. Moaning and gasping and -- Uh oh. How *much* did he see? What did he hear? Did I... call his name when I came? Oh God, what if I did? What if he heard me? And why is the very idea making me even more excited? I should be indignant. Outraged. Livid over his wanton violation of, of... Oh hell. That lasted a whole thirty seconds. Now, it's all I can do not to squirm in my seat. The thought that he was watching makes me so hot there will probably be a puddle on the couch when I stand. Provided my legs will work when I try. He's still prattling, but I can't find anything to say that would make him stop. I should say *something* but I don't think "See anything you like?" is going to help a situation which is already... what? Exactly what has happened here? Did *anything* really awful occur? I got a good look at Mulder's package, he admitted to copping a peek at me. Why are we behaving like a couple of adolescents who've just caught their first glimpse of the opposite sex's genitals? We're adults, for God's sake! We should be able to handle this like adults. Except Mulder seems to have a severe case of verbal diarrhea. If he doesn't quit apologizing, I'm going to -- What did he just say? "What did you say, Mulder?" "Um, I don't remember." It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. "Did you say I was sexy? That's what you said, isn't it?" "Maybe." "You did. I heard you. Do you really think I'm sexy?" "I think it's not beyond the realm of possibility that someone might think you were sexy." "Not someone, Mulder. You. Do *you* think I'm sexy?" "Well, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think it." Wow. Mulder thinks I'm sexy. And he called me beautiful, too. I wonder if... "Were you... thinking about me, when you were --" I wave a hand that encompasses where we're sitting, which turns out to be a very bad idea. I'm hit again by the image of what he was doing on this couch and my panties become even more damp. Damn. I'm going to surf off the cushions in a minute. His ears are turning pink. He *was* thinking about me! Suddenly, I'm feeling more in control than I have since I got close enough to see him masturbating. He's just as embarrassed as I am. I'm not sure if it's because he was watching me or because he was thinking about me when he touched himself, but it sort of makes us equal again. After all, I was thinking about him, too, even if he doesn't know that. Considering how he drags me from one weird assignment to the next, I should want to spend my free time as far away from him as I can get without leaving the continent, but I don't. I find excuses to see him on the weekends. At times, I ache to kiss him so hard that his eyes roll back in his head. I fantasize about him when I masturbate. He doesn't know about that, either. I'm not sure exactly when the switch occurred from exasperated to excited, but he's been exciting me more and more lately. There are still times when his blind belief in all things paranormal frustrates me, but that will never change. He's brilliant, compassionate, stubborn, loyal, and the damned sexiest man I've ever seen in a pair of faded jeans. On a conscious level, I've only been aware that I'm in love with my partner for about a year now. I was reluctant to admit it even then, but I must have known it subliminally for a lot longer than that. Sort of the way you realize that your very existence is proof that your parents had sex, but you try not to think about it. I've been aware of Mulder that way for a long time now. I'm intrigued by this whole situation rather than indignant. I'd like to hear more. Shifting a little to my right, I tuck one foot underneath myself and settle in to make him squirm. I open my mouth to ask what he was thinking about when I walked in on him, but I stop when I hear a sound coming from the crack between the couch cushions. That's my voice. It's a bit muffled, but it's definitely me. Mulder looks startled, as if he's just seen the ghost of Elvis materialize behind me. He dives toward the sound, but I'm closer and faster. Plus I slap his hand out of the way and dig into the cushion while he's holding his fingers. //" ...wasn't conclusive, but I'll be able to tell more in a couple of days when the test results are in. I hope your machine catches all of this. Call me if you have any questions but kindly check the time first." // ~click~ I remember that autopsy. It was just last month. He'd gone on a food run at the most inconvenient time and missed my call. The tape looks like it's close to the end. I wonder what else is on it? ~beeep~ // "Mulder, it's me. Did you finish that report Skinner wanted for tomorrow? If you did, email me what you have so I can finish mine. If you didn't, you'd better be halfway into the next state by now. Don't make me come after you."// ~click~ ~beeep~ //"Mulder, it's me. I just found out that I'm needed at Quantico this morning so I won't be in until after lunch. The large envelope on my desk goes to accounting and the one in my out basket goes to human resources. *Don't* mix them up."// ~click~ ~beeep~ //"Mulder, it's me. I'm going to take my car in for some service work while I'm on vacation, so don't worry if it's not outside when you stop by to check on things. Thanks for taking care of my plants. Don't over-water the one in my bedroom. It likes things a bit dry. Gotta run. Mom's here to drive me to the airport."// ~click~ That was a week ago. I remember wondering where he was when I called and left the message. I stare at the recorder in my hands, afraid to know more and just as afraid not to. I rewind the tape until it's halfway through and press "play" again. There's nothing to hear but my voice. The whole tape is nothing but phone messages that I've left at different times, both at the office and here, dubbed together one right after the other. I only listen to a few more before turning off the recorder. When I look at Mulder, he's sitting with his head bowed, an air of dejection surrounding him like a physical cloud. I don't say anything for several minutes, and his curiosity finally gets the better of him. He peeks at me through his lashes, a small, sickly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I don't return his attempt to lighten the mood. I just want to know one thing. "What the hell is going on here?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Why is God pissing on my cornflakes today? First, I almost get caught lusting after my partner in her own apartment. Then I *do* get caught by said partner in MY apartment doing the one-handed nasty. Now, she's found the evidence of my sick obsession where she's concerned. Why couldn't she just continue to think that I was jacking myself to memories of her in the shower? Was that too much to ask? I was perfectly willing to pretend that it was a once-in-a-lifetime incident, never to be repeated, don't know what got into me, not gonna happen again, no sirree, cross my heart and spit in my eye. There goes that little fiction shot to hell. How do I explain this? I suppose I could just blurt it out like some kind of doofus. Quote - I get off on just the sound of your voice so I stole your recorder and dubbed a bunch of your phone messages onto one tape so I can listen to you while I yank the crank - unquote. Or I could try to wrap the truth in flowery, sweetsie verbiage that makes me sound romantic instead of like the sicko pervert I really am. "I... was listening to it." I see we're going with 'doofus.' Good choice. "But why, Mulder?" She's got that cute little crinkle going on between her eyes now. A perplexed Scully is an adorable Scully. Unfortunately, perplexed sometimes leads to peeved, which often rapidly mutates to royally cheesed off. Is there anything I can say that will halt the inevitable progression on its way to meltdown? "Because you have a sexy voice?" Oh yeah. That should work nicely, Einstein. Incoming! Prepare for fallout! Aww, Scully, don't sigh like that. It breaks my heart. In fact, I'd rip my own heart out and give it to you if it would make you happy. I'm stammering out a disjointed apology, but I don't know if it's going to do any good since I can't even tell if I'm making any sense. The only thing capable of stopping me is her second sigh, more heartrending than the first. Awww, Scully... "Very clever, Mulder. I wish I'd thought of it first." Huh? What did -- "What did you say?" She's finally looking at me instead of the recorder. I want to believe that isn't pissed-off-ness I see in her eyes, but if I'm right... Is it possible that God is finished with my cornflakes? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He thinks my voice is sexy. In fact, he thinks it's so sexy, he uses a recording of it when he masturbates. Exactly the way he was doing when I walked in. Listening to my voice and stroking his penis, probably visualizing my hands on him -- I may come right now, just sitting here thinking about it. What should I do with this knowledge? For once in my life, the answer isn't immediately clear to me. My brain seems to have split into two personalities with totally different opinions. Good Girl Dana is telling me I should feel embarrassed that he uses me that way. Bad Girl Dana is strutting and cooing, heady with the sexual power we have over Mulder. Good Girl Dana thinks I should be appalled and outraged. Bad Girl Dana couldn't possibly be more flattered and turned on. Good Girl Dana says I should never have watched in the first place, and it's time to march straight back home in a huff. Bad Girl Dana wants to see how Mulder's equipment works, up close and personal, and in detail. Good Girl Dana can kiss my ass. I never liked that goody-two- shoes anyway. I set the recorder on the coffee table before I turn back to Mulder. The expression on his face shifts from apprehension to hope and back again while he waits for my response to his question. My natural caution is screaming at me to make up some kind of lame excuse and leave. Lie to him so I won't have to reveal the truth that I've kept hidden for so long, even from myself. It appears we've reached an important fork in the relationship road tonight. Recently, I've found myself hoping we would get to this point, but I've never made any move to hurry things along. This is the perfect opportunity to progress to the next level. If we go back now, we may never find this particular pathway again. Maybe the setting could have been better for declaring our feelings toward each other, but we've both learned to follow where the trail leads us. I'm going to make sure he knows exactly what's at the end of this journey so there won't be any doubts in his mind. I just hope he'll agree that I'm doing the right thing. I smile, trying to look reassuring instead of nervous. If I'm going to let him know how I feel about him, it's now or never. I take a deep, steadying breath before I repeat my earlier words. "I said I wish I'd thought of it. You have a sexy voice, too, Mulder." The panicky look on his face is replaced by cautious delight. I reach my hand out toward him and he grabs it like a lifeline. I can't blame him. I feel the need for an anchor right now, too. Good thing I'm sitting here with the one person who can keep my feet on the ground. Knowing that he feels the same way gives me more confidence than I might otherwise be able to drum up under the circumstances. I squeeze his hand and get a genuine smile in return. "Does this mean I can quit planning my legal defense against sexual harassment charges?" If you only knew, partner. It won't be long until you see the light, but first I need to find out something as well. I *think* I know the answer, but there's only one way to be sure. "Why do you fantasize about me, Mulder?" "Uhh.... " Well there's something you don't see every day. Mulder: speechless. I suppose it's not an unusual reaction when a question like that hits you out of nowhere, but he's normally able to handle anything that's thrown at him. Personal is different from professional, I guess. It appears staring at him isn't going to produce a response. His mouth is working but there's no noise coming out. If I just sit here waiting for his answer, we could lose this moment and never get it back. Looks like I'll have to do some pushing. This won't be easy for me, but if I'm going to listen to Bad Girl Dana for a change, I'll have to put aside my reservations and drag the information out of him. Deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I asked you a question, Mulder. Why do you fantasize about me?" He actually jumps and his ears turn pink again. He looks cute when he's flustered. He shrugs, which isn't quite the answer I was looking for. Let's see what interrogation mode can do. Show no mercy, Agent Scully. "Is it because I'm a convenient tool that you can strip naked with your mind when you're horny?" "Umm..." "Is it because you like the sound of my voice?" "Well..." "Am I your personal phone sex operator?" "Yeah. I mean NO!" "So I'm just another means for you to get your rocks off, like your Celebrity Skin magazines with the pages stuck together." "NO! No, you're --" "Then why do you think about me? You could fantasize about one of the girls in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue." "That's not --" "Why me? Why not one of them?" "Because I -- I, uh -- " You're wearing him down and he's got information you need. Don't let him get away, agent! "You were watching me in the shower. Why?" "I couldn't --" "Did you touch yourself?" There's his panic face. I'm getting close. "Answer me, Mulder. Did you?" "Yeah. But only a little because --" "Why?" "Um, my jeans were too tight." "Why?" "Beeecause I was turned on." "Watching me turned you on." "Yes." "So you touched yourself." "Yes." "Did you come?" That's a resigned sigh if I ever heard one. He knows the jig is up. Looks like I haven't lost my edge. I'll have to be careful, though. The idea of Mulder fondling himself while he watched me is a *huge* turn on. I don't want to let him off easy before I get the information I need. He hasn't answered the last question. Better keep the heat on. "You came, didn't you, Mulder? You not only masturbated when you got home, you also brought yourself off in my apartment. Am I right? Is that what happened?" "YES! You're right! Okay?" Now we're getting somewhere. "Why did you masturbate while you were watching me?" "Because you were so beautiful." "And that turned you on?" "Yes, it turned me on. You turn me on all the time." "Even with just my voice?" "Even with just your voice. Everything about you turns me on. I can't help myself." "Why?" "What do you mean, 'why'?" "Why do I turn you on?" "Because I love you, dammit!" Bingo. Bad Girl Dana, he's all yours. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She's got the tenacity of a pit bull and the focus of a magnifying glass. The minute she started asking questions I could tell I was doomed. No one can latch onto a suspect the way Scully can. Her teeth lock together in your sorry hide and you just can't shake her off, no matter how hard you try. She'll drag out every tiny detail of the most embarrassing thought you've ever had and not break a sweat. I haven't been badgered like that since the last time I lost a flashlight, gun and cell phone all on the same case. And it still wasn't as grueling as this. Skinner should be taking lessons from my partner. Now that I've blurted out my most closely guarded secret, I have no idea where to go from here. I feel like I should apologize for even entertaining such a thought, but I'm not ashamed of my love for her. I just wasn't planning to tell her about it at this exact moment. Over cups of espresso after a nice dinner in an expensive restaurant, maybe. Certainly not while sitting on my couch after she's just caught me spanking the monkey. Definitely not the atmosphere I've always envisioned for such a declaration. She stands up and moves away from me, although not toward the door, thank God. She's looking at the books on the shelf above the fish tank, just running her fingers over the spines randomly. I want to say something, but I can't seem to come up with anything that isn't suggestive, juvenile, lame, untrue, or some combination of all four. It's killing me to sit here without talking, but unless I want a size five shoe in my teeth, I'd better wait until she's had a good think. It doesn't take her long to make her way back over to the couch. She's a fast thinker, my Scully. I only wish I could be sure that her thoughts will be beneficial to my continued physical and emotional well-being. The expression on her face isn't giving away a thing. She finally stops right in front of me, her legs almost touching my knees. I've got a terrific, eye-level view of her nipples making little peaks under her button-down sweater. Either she's cold, or.... Best not to think about that right now. She's looming over me, encroaching on my body space as though she's trying to intimidate me. Granted, I'm sitting down and she's standing, but it's more than just the height difference. There's an aura of determination and self-confidence surrounding her. This Scully is on a mission. She wants something and she's not going to pussy-foot around before she goes after it. She licks her lips, the way she often does just before she's going to speak. I get a mental grip on the handlebars of the roller coaster I'm riding just as she sighs. "So you love me, Mulder?" Whoa. That first drop was a doozy. I think my stomach is still at the top of the hill. "Yeah. I do." Not very eloquent, but true nonetheless. "That means you're IN love with me. Right?" "I guess so." "You guess so? You mean you aren't sure?" "No! Yes! Yes, I love you and yes, I'm in love with you and yes, I meant yes, I'm sure." That eyebrow is devastating at a distance, even when she's not leveling it at me in particular. Up close like this, it makes me want to curl up in a ball with my thumb in my mouth. She turns her laser beam gaze away from me and the relief leaves me lightheaded. Telling her how I feel is the hardest thing in the world. Well, maybe not the *only* hard thing in the world right now, but I'm trying not to think about that. If I don't keep my wits sharp, she'll wither me with a glance and march right out the door. Sweating in terror should help me stay focused. "What does that mean to you, Mulder? Being in love with me." How can you ask that, Scully? It means I want everything we can have together. Work, home, sex, love, warm cuddles, hot soapy showers, breakfasts in bed, conversations in the middle of the night, quickies in the laundry room, stolen kisses in the office. Everything. In other words, you. I want you. She's nodding her head as if she could hear what I -- Oh shit. I said all of that out loud, didn't I? Shit shit shit. "I'm glad to hear it, Mulder. That's what I want, too." Holy hot damn. Does this mean what I think it means? "So, Scully, that means that you...." She beams a smile at me as bright as the lights on a midway. "I love you, too, Mulder. That's what it means." No thrill ride has ever created the feeling of euphoria I'm experiencing right now. I want to pump my fist in the air and hoot like a baboon. I want to turn cartwheels through the Mall reflecting pool. I want to pull the petals off a thousand daisies and throw them into the air as I scream "She loves me!" at the top of my lungs. She loves me. My day just improved about 827 percent -- give or take a couple dozen percentage points. I'm smiling so wide my cheek muscles are starting to hurt. She smiles back, just as wide. I'm so happy, I honestly can't think of anything to say, but she doesn't seem to have any trouble interpreting the look on my face. She bends over, giving me an eyeful of gorgeous cleavage, and cups a palm up the side of my jaw. My hands automatically reach up to steady her at the waist as her face moves closer, lips slightly puckered. She wants to kiss me! I'm going to kiss Scully! Let's make that a 936 percent improvement. As her mouth presses against mine, my senses register the softness of her lips, their dry warmth, the smell of her skin. I feel woozy, as though I'm drunk on pure Scully. I'm breathing so fast, every molecule in my body must be hyperventilating. After a couple of blissful moments, I also register pressure on another part of my anatomy. A much lower part. In the groin region, as a matter of fact. She's groping me. Sweet Jesus! Scully is squeezing and massaging my equipment like she's kneading bread. God, that feels amazing! She rubs the heel of her hand up and down my denim-covered cock, then scratches her nails on the zipper, and I hiss into her mouth. I can feel her smile around our kiss, but I'll bet it's not a sweet, innocent smile. This is a Scully I've never met before. It's obvious that she knows what she wants. Her fingers are currently mapping its dimensions as well as she can with my clothes on. I'm already so hard it hurts and I haven't taken my pants off yet. I can't believe I got it up three times in less than three hours. Three times! I haven't reacted to a woman this way since I was a teenager. But I didn't know Scully then. It must feel like I'm packing a lead pipe. Except lead pipes don't explode and I'm in serious danger of doing just that if she doesn't stop playing with me. I very reluctantly pull away from her lips. It isn't easy. The force of her kiss has the back of my head mashed into the headrest of the couch. I finally manage to get my intentions across and she lets me go with an audible smack. She doesn't let go of my balls, though. She just keeps on kneading while she waits to see what I have to say. She's really got me by the nugs -- in more ways than one. It takes a couple of deep breaths before I'm able to speak. As much as I hate to, I need to slow things down before I embarrass myself. I hope this doesn't turn out to be the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. "Um, Scully? I've already made one pair of pants sticky today, and if you don't stop doing that ... " "Then we'll just have to make sure we don't get these all messy, won't we?" She leans close again and purrs the words with her mouth barely touching mine. I can't stop the moan that rolls straight up from my chest and trembles against her parted lips. She's got me right where she wants me and we both know it. She unbuttons my waistband and pulls up on the denim as she teases the zipper down. My fingers are digging furrows into the couch cushions as she peels back the opening of my jeans and fishes a hand inside. When her warm fingers come in contact with my cock, my hips buck involuntarily. I'm doing a pretty good Elvis the Pelvis imitation in spite of the fact that I'm sitting down. My lower body appears to be under the control of one particular muscle and it wants as much of Scully's touch as it can get. It takes me a few seconds to notice that she's stopped rooting around in my jeans. Just as the lack of movement registers, she takes her hand out of my pants and stands up. I whimper, but I really want to cry. I've always wondered what a lascivious smile looks like, but not anymore. I just saw one on Scully's face. Maybe there's still hope. "Don't worry, Mulder. I'm not through with you yet." The raspy tone of her voice sends shivers down my spine. It sounds like sex made audible. This isn't her usual way of talking to me. What's gotten into her tonight? "If I have any say about it, *you'll* be getting into me tonight." Oops. Speaking without brain engaged again. I think my smarter little gray cells are still passed out. But if they're going to wake up, now would be a *really* good time. Her hands just went to the buttons on her sweater. "Why are you doing this, Scully?" I must be scared stupid because that's the dumbest thing I've ever said. It figures that only the moronic parts of my brain would still be functional. She's got both eyebrows raised at the same time. This is the part where she gets fed up, tells me off, and stomps the hell out of my life. "Why not, Mulder?" Or maybe not. She keeps talking, which is good, because I don't think I've got an answer for her. "Aren't you tired of tip-toeing around how we feel?" I nod. It's all I'm capable of right now. "We agree that we love each other." I nod again. "Don't you want to make love with me?" Another nod. Followed by another, and another, and another. I can't seem to stop nodding. I'll bet I look like a bobble-head doll on the dashboard of a speeding car. "Then may I continue?" I'm nodding so much I'm making myself dizzy. I finally manage to stop when Scully's fingers slowly grasp the top button on her sweater and slip it out of the hole. She's stripping. She's just going to stand right in front of me and take her clothes off. Halle-fuckin'-lujah. The second and third buttons come undone, then the fourth. I can see that she's not wearing a bra -- there's no lacy stuff showing and she's almost reached the buttons at her navel. I haven't blinked once since she started. Have I inhaled recently? "Breathe, Mulder." Guess not. I gulp air into my lungs without moving my eyes so much as a millimeter. I don't want to miss even one microsecond of this show. The last two buttons slide free and the sweater falls open. The edges of the fabric catch on her nipples. I can't see any more than the creamy, rounded slopes of her breasts but it doesn't matter. My safety bar is already in the upright and locked position. I'm gonna tear right through these jeans in a minute, even if she doesn't do anything else. She just grabbed the zipper on her slacks. If I don't get out of these jeans, I'm going to seriously damage myself. It's not easy, and it doesn't feel nearly as good as when Scully's hand was in there, but I finally manage to pull my steel-hard cock out of my pants. I suppose I should just take the jeans off, but I don't want to remove my eyes from the vision in front of me that long. I automatically start stroking myself, but I don't think I'll need to work to keep this particular hard-on. It's not going anywhere except inside of Scully. Her gaze tracks my hand's movement and she licks her lips. I have to squeeze my cock to avoid coming just from the look on her face. "Is that for me, Mulder?" "Yeah. You." Great. She's reduced me to single-syllable words already. I need to revive some brain cells or I'll end up missing the best day of my life. "Well then, happy birthday to me." She bends over and shucks her slacks and panties in one movement. When she stands back up, the sweater is hanging completely open and I can see her perfect breasts, her tight stomach, the patch of curls between her legs. She's naked. Beautifully, unashamedly nude all the way to her feet, except for that sweater. When the hell did she take her shoes off? I thought I was watching everything she did. I'd like to suggest that she get rid of the sweater, but I think my speech center just shorted out. I can't find a single thing to say, so I hold out my free hand to her instead. She smiles and steps toward me. That's when it hits me. I can smell her. She's hot, rich, fragrant -- there's no mistaking that aroma. If I still had any doubts about her feelings, they're gone now. A woman's body doesn't produce that particular scent unless there's something specific she wants. And it appears that Scully wants *me*! How the hell did I get this lucky? She takes my hand and gingerly climbs onto the couch until her knees are on either side of me. When she spreads her legs to scoot forward, I'm hit with another wave of fragrance that makes me lightheaded again. God, please don't let me pass out! Not now! I come back to my senses when Scully grabs my dick and plants herself right over the head. She lowers herself until I can feel the tip pushing against her opening. She's wet. God, is she wet. And hot. And softer than anything I've felt in a very long time. It's all I can do not to hammer myself straight up into her body, but I'm going to let her take the lead. Even if it kills me, which is something I wouldn't bet against right now. I can't just sit here, though, so I shift my hips a bit and feel my cock slide in an inch. Her eyes go wide as her expression displays a changing mix of surprise, delight, anticipation and just plain lust. She sinks down a little at a time, slowly taking in every inch of me until she's sitting in my lap. Sweet lord, I can't believe this. I'm embedded deep inside Scully. She's actually taller than me like this and I love it. Our breaths mingle as I tilt my head back slightly and pant against her parted lips. There's almost no color left in her eyes other than a thin ring around her dilated pupils. Her breasts brush against my collarbone when she wiggles. I'll bet the zipper on my jeans is biting into her ass but she doesn't seem to care. She smiles and zeroes in for another kiss. This is right. This is where I belong. I flex my hips and she moans into my mouth. Oh yeah, Scully. Let's see if you can handle this roller coaster ride you started. Head's up! Here comes another hill! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This is perfect. We belong together. I can't believe I've denied myself this for so long. I can be really stupid sometimes. Dammit. I have to break off our kiss so I can catch my breath. His lips follow mine as I pull back. Just give me a minute, partner. I'm not going anywhere. I may have been stupid in the past when it came to us, but I haven't totally lost my mind yet. I might before we're done if he doesn't start fucking me soon, though. I can tell that he's letting me take the lead. He hasn't moved since I took him all the way inside me. I can see that he's trying not to squirm, but he can't control every muscle in his body. Especially not *that* one. I love this position. He's so far inside me I can feel every twitch of his penis. We can look each other in the eye, which I find erotic. The emotions on his face are very intense up close like this. God! He's latched onto a nipple. Oh shit. It feels so good to be sucked and fucked at the same time. Oh damn. His penis twitches again and the combination of sensations zings straight through my body, as though his cock and my breast are connected by an electric current. I have to move. Right now. Right now right now right NOW. I wanted to take this slowly and savor every moment, but we'll have to savor it next time. If I don't come very, very soon, I'll go out of my mind. As I rise up on my knees, my nipple pops out of his mouth. He moans, but it changes to a hiss when I sink straight back down. I'm the one that moans instead. He's hitting everything just right and I can already tell that I'm not going to last long. I hope he doesn't mind if I go first because I don't think I could stop it if I tried. When I rise up again, he catches on and wraps his hands around my hips. I come down with more force this time, aided by his strong hands. It's still too slow. I need more. Faster. Harder. I need -- "Do it, Mulder. Give it to me hard. Make me come. I want to feel you everywhere. Please." He actually growls as he gets a tighter grip on my hips. Ohmygod. Ohmygod ohmyohmyohshit. Every stroke jolts through my body as he picks me up and slams me down over and over again. I can hear his cock sliding in and out of me and someone is wailing and I think it's me and I should be embarrassed but I just don't give a good goddamn. I can already feel the tingles starting in my fingers and toes. I don't think he's going to be far behind me, but I can't wait for him any longer. I grab his face and crush our lips together, trying not to hurt either of us as he continues to piston my body onto his cock. The keening cry he releases into my mouth is all it takes to set me off like a rocket. The heat of my orgasm converges low in my belly, burning a path of ecstasy as my entire body melts into the bliss of release. It's a wonder we're not both a pile of ashes from the intensity of it. Through the haze of satisfaction that blurs my senses, I can feel Mulder come deep inside me. I let go of his mouth and lean back to watch. His eyes are squeezed shut as he arches his neck. I can feel his fingers digging into my hip bones as he grinds me down into his crotch. Sweat beads his upper lip. His teeth are clenched together, making the muscle in his jaw jump. His throaty groans and slowing thrusts cause prickly shivers to race up my back. I shudder as he sags forward and buries his head between my breasts. Hot puffs of breath fog my skin as he covers me with panting kisses. He's mumbling into my cleavage, words I can't quite hear, but the tone speaks of tenderness and love. I won't ask him to repeat what he's saying. I'm sure I'll hear the same words again soon. Mulder doesn't strike me as the type who would keep his feelings to himself once he knows they're reciprocated. I'll have to make sure he knows how much they're reciprocated every day from now on. We hold each other for several minutes while our bodies recover. His warm hands stroke my back underneath the sweater while I repeatedly tunnel my fingers through his hair. It's nice touching him without having to pretend I'm checking for injury or fever. No more excuses. I can do this any time I want to because he's mine now. The thought makes me shiver again and he hugs me tighter. Mine. It's such a primitive thought. Mine. MY man. MY lover. MY glorious package of masculine beauty, brains and heart. All mine. Damn, I'm lucky. I'd like nothing better than to stay just like this for the rest of the evening, but my legs are starting to cramp from being spread wide around his hips. As much as I hate to, I think it's time to get up. As I start to push away so I can rise from his lap, Mulder pulls me back to his chest. "Don't go yet. I'm afraid I'll wake up for the umpteenth time with the recorder in one hand and my limp dick in the other." I can't help chuckling. His eyes aren't open and he sounds half asleep, but his grip is as tight as steel. He really doesn't want to let me go. I can't say that I blame him. I'm suddenly hit by a sense of loss as I feel him become soft and slide out of me. I wrap my arms around his head and hug him back. He rubs his face between my breasts, scratching my skin with his beard stubble. When he looks up at me, I kiss the end of his nose, then smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Mulder. This isn't a dream unless we're reading each other's minds, and I never have dreams this good. Once I get the kinks out of my legs, we can lay down and take a nap. You're not going to lose touch with me for long, I promise." That seems to reassure him because he peels off his T-shirt, then hands it to me. When I cock an eyebrow in inquiry, he says, "It's all I've got for clean-up at the moment. Sorry." He looks so contrite. Only Mulder would feel guilty about making a mess after sex. I carefully stand up, then take the shirt he's holding out to me. I can feel our combined fluids starting to trickle down my leg, and there's a large wet spot around his zipper. So much for keeping his jeans clean. I use his shirt to swipe up as much of the moisture between my legs as I can, then take a moment to wipe him off a bit, too. He squirms, but he seems to be more interested in watching what I'm doing than he is in helping. He's not even trying to cop a feel. Bad Girl Dana decides that he deserves a reward for being cooperative. I drop his shirt onto the floor and then wait until he looks up at me. Shrugging the open sweater off my shoulders, I let it fall down my arms and puddle on the floor. His eyes rake my naked body from head to heels as a grin blooms across his face. He flops lengthwise on the couch, pushes his pants to his knees, and proceeds to kick his legs in the air until his jeans finally fly off his feet. They land halfway on the desk, draped over the edge, until gravity takes hold and they slide to the floor. I leap to rescue several file folders that are toppling over, but Mulder grabs my wrist and hauls me down in front of him. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch to cover us and spoons up behind me. This is nice. Really *really* nice. I could get to like this. I sigh and snuggle my rear end into his crotch. His penis is nestled in the crease of my ass, silky-soft, warm, and somehow feeling more intimate than the sex we just had. His moist breath puffs against my neck. I can feel the hair on his legs as it scratches my calves. His chest pushes on my back as he inhales and exhales, carrying our combined scent into his lungs, where the molecules meld together and provide him with life. I like the thought of being inside Mulder's body, helping to sustain him. It makes me feel like I'm as important to him as he is to me. I'm drifting into a light doze when he rubs his nose against my shoulder blade. It tickles and I giggle. Sort of. Well, more than sort of. "Did you just giggle?" "No." "Yes you did." "No I didn't, Mulder." "I heard you, and that was a giggle." "It was a chuckle. I don't giggle." Okay, so I giggled. It was just a little one, and I'll deny it to anybody who says otherwise. Mulder stops insisting and nibbles my shoulder. "Hey Scully?" "Hmmm?" Doesn't he need at least a *small* nap after sex? I do. "Thank you." Maybe we can postpone the nap. "For what?" "For... everything. For understanding, and loving me, and always being there when I need you, and just... everything." Ahhh, my sweet, sentimental G-man. Who could help loving you? Not me, that's for sure. "No thanks necessary, Mulder. It was my pleasure." "Oh no, Scully, it was my pleasure, too." He has a point. "Then don't mention it. Now shut up and go to sleep." Damned if he doesn't beat me to it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END Author's last minute babbling before you all wander off: This is part of the series that started with My Pleasure and continued in Likewise. It wasn't written specifically for the Haven challenge because I didn't have time to finish. When Sybil's birthday rolled around, I decided it was time to finish it up, but I didn't expect it to take more than a month. I always feel that being late just draws out the natal day celebrating, though. I'm good at rationalizing. I am now returning to other works in progress. Honest. I mean it. Don't anyone show me *anymore* challenges! Well, maybe just that little over there... Sybil, put that down! You don't know where it's been! Feedback: mimic1172@gmail.com