Title: Straddling the Sea-Saw Author: Gina Rain (ginarain@aol.com) Category: MSR Rating: R Spoilers: Dreamland (Yes, at long last! The non- awaited, never asked for sequel [of sorts] to The Last Picture Before the Fork in the Road. Haven’t read it? Don’t worry. I provide a quick summary before you even hit page 2). Summary: A man, a woman, a waterbed and the fine art of practicing bondage. What more can you ask for? This smut - er, story - is dedicated to: Two lovely ladies - my beta, Sybil, who has been after me for some good old fashioned action for many moons without reward, and Sdani - for providing much needed waterbed expertise and feedback that never fails to make me smile. Thank you both. XXXXX In the filing cabinet of his mind, Fox Mulder officially slammed the drawer containing the Area 51 incident shut. It wasn’t an x-file. Their informant never showed and it was somewhat of an unsolved mystery. Both he and Scully experienced a sense of imbalance since their return. But the beauty of it all was he no longer cared about the whys and wherefores. He only cared about the outcome. Whatever forces were at work, it had finally knocked them in the right direction, toward each other. After their return and a particularly colorful ass-chewing session, AD Kersh “punished” them by sending them on a fertilizer check to Florida. A trip by car. A fourteen hour and forty-five minute trip where he could have sworn Scully was checking him out more than usual. He dismissed it as a case of rampant egotism but began to rethink the diagnosis when she started snapping pictures of him. She told him she wanted his picture but gave him no real excuse as to why. It was unnerving. Scully could usually explain away anything but, this time, she was going for the less is more approach. And then came the touching. At that point, if he weren’t so intrigued, he would have turned the car in a westerly direction and not come back until they had answers to their “imbalance.” But intrigued he was. She touched his face. His nose. No one ever touched his nose with such affection. It was the damndest thing. Although nothing was as odd as when she kissed him. And it was odd because it wasn’t really odd at all. It felt so natural and wonderful. But it was cool, calm Scully who initiated it and it was during a very casual moment when nothing huge was happening so it couldn’t even be attributed to the stress or drama of the moment. So, he kissed her back and when they finally decided to stop kissing in *public* (another oddity) he had no idea what, if anything, was going to happen next. He more or less expected a return to the old routine: a “gee, that was swell,” type of reaction but “now it’s time to put on our super-hero trench coats and save the world from Morley-smoking menaces.” Instead, they stood before their motel room doors to clean up before their trip back and Scully tugged at his hand. “Help me wash off the sand?” she said, looking at him with an expression that was part coy, part shy. She didn’t have to ask twice. Just like that, they were in the shower together. No, he did not press Scully up against the bathroom wall. They actually rather silently stripped, never breaking eye contact, and then got in under the water. She picked up the tiny motel soap and ran it over Mulder’s body and he soon returned the favor. Slow and methodical. It could be construed as either an endless caress or some very detailed cleansing ritual with natural physical repercussions. But when she swiped her lower lip with her tongue while glancing down at his ... repercussion, he decided to throw caution to the wind, and Mulder scooped up her warm, rosy body and carried her over to the bed. He skipped many of the maneuvers that filled his fantasies and settled in for the main event. And the way Scully wrapped her legs around his hips, he was pretty sure she didn’t miss the fancy stuff this time either. The second time around, there had been time for foreplay. Mulder let out a little breath. Foreplay. He was not fond of the word. It was a strange mixture of the clinical and the frivolous. What they did ... how they felt ... “Mulder?” He opened his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping but his eyes had been closed as he thought of their twelve-hour mini-vacation. He wanted to follow up that time with more of the same but Kersh finally got his wish. The drive back had been torture. Fifteen hours and fifteen minutes of not being able to touch Scully in the way he wanted to, time and again. And fifteen and a quarter hours with the dreaded thought Scully might have finally come to her senses and life would return to normal, even though his world could never be the same again. “Mulder?” “Huh? I’m awake.” “I know that but where *are* you? You’re not here in the car with me.” “No, I’m not in the *car* with you,” he said with what he hoped was a sexy smile but knew was probably a smarmy sneer. “Well, why don’t we go upstairs then and we can both find a place we’d like to be?” He looked out the passenger’s window. They were in front of his apartment house. He really had spaced out. If he hadn’t, he would have objected since he didn’t even have a ... oh, yes, he did. And that explained why they were at his place. It must have been the lure of the waterbed that brought her here. They exited the car and he grabbed both their bags out of the trunk. The waterbed. He never had sex–well, not *with* anyone–on a waterbed. Frankly, since he found it in his apartment, he had only slept on it for a few hours. The damned motion made him a little queasy. Still, if that’s what Scully wanted, never let it be said that he wouldn’t give it the old college try. And she did seem to want it since the minute he unlocked the door, she made a beeline for his bedroom. She stood in the doorway and looked inside. “Well, well, well. You do have a bedroom in here.” “Of course I do. I just never used it as one before.” “You didn’t have a bed?” “Nope. I used it as storage basically. Besides, I have an extreme attachment to my couch.” “Who wouldn’t?” She went over to the bed and pressed the mattress with her finger. It wobbled beneath the pressure and she frowned slightly. He approached her slowly. “Speaking of attaching ... “ She slipped from his outstretched arms and climbed on the bed. She went straight toward the headboard. Gotta admire a woman who knows what she wants. But as he was ready to drop his pants and join her, he noticed her fiddling with something on his headboard. Oh, shit. “Scully, I can explain.” She took the side of the handcuffs that was open and tugged at it. The other side was still secured to the bedpost. “You can?” “Well, actually, remember how I told you the bed was just here? Well, so were the handcuffs - just as you found them. That’s why I suspected the guys.” “Uh, huh,” she tugged at the cuffs. “Standard issue. Your key didn’t work?” “No. I meant to take a saw to it but I haven’t had a chance yet.” “Okay,” she said, still fiddling. She reached behind her and pulled something out of the side pocket of her holster. Within seconds, the handcuff was released. She did not snap it shut but let it dangle from her index finger. “Well, what do you know?” Mulder stood there and stared at the shiny silver cuff. The file cabinet of his mind sprung open of its own accord. “Now you *see* why it’s important to find out what happened to us?” “Why?” Scully asked. “Because my key fit the handcuff? “Yes. Exactly. Don’t you find that odd at all?” “Mulder - even if, as you theorized yesterday, we ‘lost’ time - we were still practically on the other side of the country. We were not here practicing bondage on your brand new waterbed.” “Practicing bondage?” “I’m sorry. I’m not as proficient at sexual lingo as you apparently are. But you know what I mean.” He frowned. She was right. They were not in town when the bed, and its accessories, arrived. So, they had not slept with each other and conveniently forgot. He could never actually forget something so ... He was doing it again. Since yesterday, he’d spent half of his time trying to convince himself that Scully would run off at the first opportunity she had and put this down to a once in a lifetime (well, twice) occasion; the other half was waxing poetic about a life of love together. It was like straddling a seesaw. He could sit there forever unless the other person was willing to take him where he wanted to go. And if she did–there was that incredible moment of flight–of being light, carefree and full of life. But it was Scully’s choice. He could give her a tiny bit of encouragement but he wouldn’t take her on a trip if she wasn’t ready for it. “I don’t care about the terminology,” he said. He took a step forward and stopped. If she did want this, he had to think fast. That freaking bed was a seesaw unto itself. Missionary position? If he didn’t thrust down while she was thrusting up, he could end up ... disengaging himself and trying to ... realign ... while the bed was moving would not exactly reinforce the suave image he was going for. Doggie style? Definitely out. Two people trying to balance on all fours (sort of) while the ocean was in motion? And on only their third time together. Uh-uh. Scully on top? Well, at least he could shift the blame on her for any disengaging that might occur (“Scully - you got off - and not in a good way.”) Of course, the jiggle factor would be a bonus. But he still wasn’t crazy about the idea. Maybe just side to side with them both holding on *real* tight. Scully was walking toward the end of the bed on her knees and having a really difficult time not tilting over to one side. “Not that I don’t think you have a point, Mulder - I do believe some further investigation is necessary. I think you need to find out who delivered this bed, who paid for it, and perhaps even take a sample of the water inside. To make sure it *is* water. Just to be on the safe side. We can do that later. I was actually surprised you didn’t go to greater lengths to pursue this since you are, by nature, slightly paranoid.” Finally, she made it close enough to the edge of the bed to leap off. She smoothed her hands over her jeans and straightened her blouse and hair. Then, she grabbed the comforter and draped it on the floor. God, he loved this woman. She grabbed a couple of pillows, which went on top of the comforter. She looked up finally. “I hope you don’t mind.” He shook his head softly. “I just want it to be us this time,” she said. “We can experiment with that contraption some other time. Besides, I think it needs more water. There’s undulation and then there’s *undulation.*” Mama. He stepped forward and this time, she let him put his arms around her. He pulled her close and just held her against his chest for a moment. It was still so new. “Why, Scully?” he asked, running his hands slowly up and down her back. “Why, what?” “Why did you ask me to join you in the shower yesterday?” “Sand, Mulder.”He felt her smile against his chest. He smiled in return. She didn’t want to answer and that was fine. He ran his hand under the back of her blouse and touched her warm skin, then pressed her a tiny bit closer to him. She sighed. “Once I kissed you, going back would be dishonest.” He stepped back and looked at her. Her big blue eyes looked right into his. The picture of honesty. The portrait of beauty. The reflection of love. Lord, but did he have it bad. “Lift,” he tickled her under her arms until she lifted them above her head. He pulled her blouse up and over and then dropped it on the floor. She fiddled with his belt buckle and finally opened it and unzipped his pants. They fell to the floor and he tried to shake them off but his sneakers got in the way. He grimaced and sat on the bed to pull them off. She stood there and removed her own pants while he was busy, then lay back against the pillows, wearing only her black bra and panties. He watched as something on the floor got her attention and when he looked up after finally getting the sneakers and pants off, she was holding the open cuffs in her hand again. “Scully? Are you practicing bondage again?” “No, I guess this dropped while the bed was heading for shore.” He quickly pulled off his shorts and joined her on the floor, lightly resting his body over hers. “You have two articles of clothing that really should go,” he said, planting the softest of kisses just below her ear. “Should they?” “Yes. You want me to help?” “Sand *and* clothing removal? Wow. Do I know how to pick them or what?” He pushed himself off to her side and sat on his haunches. He leaned forward and lifted her upper body and slid his hands behind her to disengage the fastener of her bra. As he leaned her back, he moved his hands forward and slid the garment off. She smiled. “Smooth move, Mulder.” “Thank you. I’ve been practicing in my mind.” He wiggled her panties down her hips and she shifted so he could pull them off. Then he got back to the position he was in before, lightly resting his body against hers while leaning on his elbows. “We really have to invest in breakaway clothing,” he said and she lifted her hand and cupped it against the back of his neck. “We waited a really long time. Undressing gives us time to recall the olden days.” “If you say so,” he breathed deeply and she sighed again. A kiss. He needed a kiss. She lifted up a bit and pressed her lips lightly against his. This wasn’t a twelve-hour mini- vacation from reality. This *was* reality. As odd as it was, they were alone together - in his bedroom - and she didn’t come to her senses or reason away what they felt. Instead, she was embracing it all. In fact, Scully had initiated a good half of it. He needed to catch up. Mulder kissed her back and felt the warm sweetness of the inside of her mouth. He slowly rubbed against her. Chest against chest, her nipples slid against his sparse chest hair, hardening in response. Groin against groin, he was the one to further harden against her softness. “Now, Mulder,” she whispered on a sigh. They were both doing a lot of that lately. Soft moans, sighs ... His slide into her was smoother than it had been the night before but just as surprising. He had forgotten how wet and warm a real woman could be. She wrapped her legs over his thighs and moved her upper body up a little so she could reach forward to hold onto his hips. There was no disengaging or realignment necessary. He moved his hips in a leisurely fashion until he heard her breaths coming quicker and he shifted a bit. His thrusts came faster and harder. The only problem with making love on the floor seemed to be traction. He was sliding forward a bit and Scully was sliding up against his night table. She didn’t seem to want to let go of his hips, though. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to push her down while sliding himself in the same direction but in an effort not to break his own rule of disengagement, he didn’t use enough force and they barely moved an inch. Scully grimaced. Apparently, it was an uncomfortable inch since she finally let go of his hips. She put her hand under her head and held up the handcuffs again. Both of them gave it the dirty look it deserved. That thing had an uncanny way of showing up where it didn’t belong. He let out a bit of his anger against the inanimate object in his next thrust, pushing Scully forward just as she was about to toss the cuffs on the mattress and her hand went down with the force his body transmitted into hers. The cuffs were history and she returned her hands to his body, this time to the middle of his back. He reveled in the feel of her fingers tracing long patterns down his skin and kept up a steady rhythm of thrusting until he felt her muscles clench around him. Ah, success. As her orgasm was dying down, she moved her hands down and grabbed onto his hips again. A few meaningful squeezes and he concentrated on his own release. Nothing else seemed to matter as he emptied himself in her. Wet. His wetness meeting her wetness meeting their wetness ... Their wetness? Why were they wet in strange places? He lifted his head up off her shoulder to find her already staring at the hole on the side of his waterbed. A small hole. About the size an opened handcuff being slapped with force against a mattress would make. He watched as the steady trickle of water passed from the mattress out the small hole in the sheets and onto them. “If we could get hold of a test tube, Scully, we’d have our sample.” He felt her laugh against his skin and he joined in before turning them both over and further away from the bed. She was lying on him now. Scully on top. And not even on the wobbly mattress. “Mulder, we have to stop the leak or it will go through your neighbor’s ceiling.” “In a minute. I just wanted to tell you ... ” Oh, now he went and did it. He stopped straddling and was trying to take off himself. Full blown maudlin stuff. If Scully wasn’t ready, he’d soon be returned to the earth with a hard thud. “What?” she asked. “I’m glad it was your key that fit the handcuff.” “We did *not* do this before yesterday, Mulder.” “I know. I’m still glad though.” “Why?” How could he say what he wanted to say without actually saying it? “It’s just the nature of our relationship. Between the two of us we tend to find the key to some of life’s mysteries. Life’s mysteries, love’s mysteries - can’t be much different, can it?” There. That was a happy medium. Sort of. “I guess we’ll find out,” she said, and kissed him once again. A half-hour later, they were awakened by the sound of Mulder’s downstairs neighbor knocking a broom against his ceiling. ~The end Author’s note: Christmastime is here. Well, almost. And since I’m the only one on this particular seesaw, I can jump whenever I want. So, I just wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Writing for you has given this old girl a lot of pleasure. You’ve all been so wonderful and generous in letting me know you are out there. I wish you a very blessed holiday and all the very best in the upcoming year.