Sun-Kissed
by Mish
mish_rose@yahoo.com

Distribution: Anywhere, with permission.
Rating: NC-17
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, PWP
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: A little beach fantasy for a cold winter's
day.

Author's notes at end.


Sun-Kissed


She'd always remember this day in beautiful, vivid
color.  Close her eyes against the slash of sun
from the small window above Mulder's desk and raise
her face to it, remembering.  Back in the office, a
place subdued by shadows inanimate as well as all
too human, she'd think of orange.  Not her favorite
color by any means.  In the real world, too
frantic, too blaring.  The fast-food industry made
good use of it; who wanted to linger in a booth
screaming at you to eat and leave?

But sun-kissed orange... that was entirely
different.

Her sunglasses gave the scene before her a soothing
tint, the late afternoon sunlight coating it in
simmering bronze.  She approached on slow, measured
steps, savoring the sight with a curl of her lips. 
Her toes dug into the sand with delicious strength,
the dusky pink nails sinking and rising, sinking
and rising... her calves tight, her hips swaying, a
trickle of sweat following her spine in a snaking
trail to disappear beneath the slice of orange
nothing draped low on her hips.



The bikini was her idea. She'd bet he didn't
remember it hanging in the shop window when they'd
arrived last week; lust, while Mulder's constant,
secret companion, wasn't exactly a friend this
afternoon.  He was a bear with a sore paw.  Totally
frustrated but equally unwilling to call an end to
their vacation until he was damned good and ready. 
But she remembered the faraway look in his eyes as
he stared at the mannequin, the one that said she
herself stood before him in his heated mind in
nothing but scraps of orange lycra.



A peck on his warm cheek, and she was gone.

Treasures came easy to one in a place like this. 
Battered yet surf-smoothed coins washed ashore on
the beach.  A convertible available with a flick of
plastic; when one absolutely *must* ride, it must
be done in style.  

'Grabber orange', the rental ticket said.  Colors
became part of the bounty as well.  A lustful reach
for freedom, for the exhilarating tang of
horsepower and speed, on a beach road that did
nothing but circle an island.  An endless loop of
decadence and isolation, made for taking chances
and living for the moment.

A secluded condo on an empty beach, in the perfect
spot to bask in a glorious sunset each and every
day.  Made for coming off the high and just
relaxing, for swimming without the restriction of
clothes and for making love with the windows open
to the sea breeze.

A man, all shiny with sweat.  Lying in a woozy nap
while yards of mosquito netting swayed about him. 
The one booty that surpassed them all, she thought
with an inner snicker.



She hadn't replied, just smiled at his attempt to
lighten his funk.  Just as she did now when she saw
a smidgen of toes around the edge of the netting. 
Nice toes.  Pink toes.  Her smile faded a bit;
hadn't she told him to keep up with the sunscreen? 
Half an hour gone and he'd slipped into negligence
again.  So, so easy for Mulder.  Then again, the
tropics tempted anyone into oblivion.

Dropping the opened bag on her side of the double
chaise, she licked the nacho cheese from her
fingers and reached for the sunscreen.  As the sun
dipped low in the sky, the canopy had surrendered
its protective ceiling.  Rays of waning sunlight
tickled his legs and feet while he slept on in
blissful limbo.  The little plastic fingers-on-a-
stick drooped from a limp hand to paw in the sand.

Limbo.  When would he ever learn?

Aloe vera, coconut, slippery and cool - the cream,
stored in the ice chest, was bound to be soothing. 
She noticed faint scratch marks above his knee and
went for them first.  It wouldn't have surprised
her to see teeth marks somewhere in the vicinity. 
But for all his moves, Mulder wasn't *that* limber.

He didn't move as she applied the balm, proof his
slumber had a little help.

Actually, she quite liked him this way.  Supine and
totally at her mercy.  All golden and unshaven, his
legs spread to catch the cooling sea spray, his
lips parted in heavy, humid breathing.  Tiny lines
of dampness defined his chest and shoulders; beads
of sweat dotted his upper lip.  A small pool of
moisture rose and fell above the waistband of his
trunks.

"Oh my," she breathed, watching that 'innie'
tantalize, her tongue darting out unbidden and
treacherous in its sudden need to taste.

Not yet.  Savor.  Prolong.  Tease, touch, tremble.

What fun.  On the other hand, what agony.  Already,
the feel of his thigh under her hand created a form
of torture.  So hard and hairy, so mouth-watering
in its definition.  She kneaded at her leisure,
taking long minutes to reach his toes.  She plunged
her hands, warm from his skin, into the icewater
before easing more sunscreen over the surely fiery
little fellows.

He sighed, his foot shifting.  "Scully?"

"Your toes are getting pink, Mulder," she murmured
by way of explanation.

She couldn't tell if his eyes were open behind the
shades.  It was doubtful, given he hadn't raised
his head from the pillow of his arm.  Beneath her
slow massage he stretched, his low rumble of
pleasure making her heart skip a beat.

"Where ya been?" he mumbled through half-sleep.

"Doritos."

"Mmm."




He no longer craved the snack, not with those cool
fingers massaging places almost baked by the sun.
All thought of a more mundane hunger dissipated
under her touch.  It felt so good.  Almost
detached, as if his mind lagged a second or two
behind his nerve endings.

Lassitude spread, whisking away any notion of total
awakening.  He didn't want to open his eyes,
content to just feel.  Scully was always better
than junk food.  Head lolling, he listened to the
feather light scratch of her nails on his body. 
Before long the intimate, slow rasp overpowered the
pounding surf.  He shifted, feeling her knee
insinuate itself between his legs.

A hint of something bold wafted over him.  If he
allowed it, he might bring to mind more trivial
things.  Baby aspirin.  Tang.  He grimaced
slightly, remembering the smell of furniture polish
and cantaloupe.  Very few orange things were
actually pleasant, he decided in an instant.

In the next, he realized orange wasn't so bad.

Soft hands spread a fragrant balm over his chest. 
A little sigh communicated his contentment, much
better than any words.  It was enough.  Those
fingers caressed his arms, stretching the tired
muscles until his wrists lay captured above his
head.

"Scully?"

He tried to pick his head up in a sudden awareness
of how trapped he was by her hands.  But the slow
slide of open lips across the pulse in his neck
stilled him.  A tickle of damp hair caressed the
hollow of his shoulder, and he shivered despite the
heat of the day.  With a smile he arched his neck,
asking for more.  She complied, taking a nip at his
ear lobe before trailing kisses along his jaw.

Lips parted, he waited.  Above him, she moved like
a cat, with little brushes of teeth and claws over
his skin.  Pulling and digging into him.  A ginger
tabby claiming possession, her mouth seeking,
searching...

The nip of spicy cheese licked at his lips; he let
it take over, let her kiss him with her tongue - a
willing mouse caught in her trap.  Moments passed
with a heat building where their mouths clung; he
groaned when she left him, wanting to prolong the
taste.  Her hands skimmed down his arms, her voice
husky but demanding.

"Leave 'em there, Mulder."

His mouth dry with anticipation, his hands fisted
through the mesh straps above his head.

This was too good to miss.  Forcing his eyes open,
he at first saw nothing but sun-bleached muslin. 
Above and all around him, snapping then rippling in
the breeze.  His head felt as one with the
billowing canopy, light and carefree.  Nothing else
registered but the slide of skin against skin.

A flash of color caught his eye; he dipped his
chin, lips lax at the sight.  Scully knelt between
his thighs, two scraps of tangerine temptation
stretched taut across her breasts and hips, held
there by limp, girlish bows.  Barely there, they
offered little in the way of concealment - but
untold riches in the body beneath.  He raised a
hand to touch, licking his lips.  All it would take
is one pull at the bow -

She stopped his hand with one of her own.  His arm
relaxed at her low hiss of dissent.  Unruly auburn
waves swirled about her face as she pressed his
hand back down.  He gave a dissatisfied grunt of
his own, but it was short-lived, as she stretched
up above him.  He watched, mesmerized.  The siren
she'd become smiled and swayed to the music of the
surf.  For a brief moment, her sinuous form left
his vision.  It seemed she moved in slow motion,
reaching to the side - he heard the tinkle of ice,
felt her come back, saw her suck the crystal clear
medallion between red lips.  Her grin was that of a
tigress, her eyebrows rising behind her shades. 
Then the vision in orange was gone from sight. 
Sweat beaded on him in a rush, his hips rising to
meet the soft brush of her body.

It was torture, worse than anything he'd felt in
the past day.  Pain of a different kind tightened
his lower limbs and he dug in his heels in an
effort to relieve the mounting pressure in his
groin.  A little laugh blew over his stomach, a
rough tongue dipped into his navel, a pair of light
hands pulled at his trunks.

Then... oh, God, she was there.  A well of blessed
coolness wrapped around him.  Gentle hands traced
the angles of his pelvis before slipping under to
caress his ass.  It took no effort on her part to
make him arch up; his body reacted to the pull of
her mouth in an instant, his neck straining as he
let out a long, slow growl of pleasure.  He tried
to watch, slowly blinking once, then twice.  The
scene before him was a blend of white sand and blue
sky, her face now a blur of peachy sunset dipping
low.  The colors bled together in his mounting
sexual haze, his sunglasses no protection against
the burst of gold and fire.  His lashes squeezed
together, sweat and salt stinging his eyes.

Warmth gathered low, his hips now picking up her
rhythm.  Completion hovered near, and it was with a
groan he felt her mouth leave him.  A protest slid
past his lips, his head shaking at the bereft sense
of loss.  Placating murmurs reached his ears, then
even softer sounds of movement... the pull of
fabric - was it the bikini top or bottom? 
Curiosity willed him to test his vision, but
another, more urgent sound reached him.  The rush
of ice cubes sliding against one another, the drip
of watery pellets hitting the sand.

He jerked at the icy shower that hit his chest,
sucking in a raw breath.  Then another, as he felt
her hand slowly guide his length into her body. 
Hot and cold, tropical sun and wintergreen... the
slide of chilled lycra over his belly and the grip
of steaming walls around his cock.  The opposites
untangled his fingers at last, opened his eyes
wide, and tensed his shoulders as he struggled to
breathe.

The bottom.  Definitely the bottom.

She moved upon him, her hands gripping the scrap of
orange just above the mingling of light hair and
dark.  Pressing with each downward thrust, her
mouth slack, her knees gripping his body.  Lost in
concentration, she didn't make a sound when he
stole the glasses from her face.  Glazed blue eyes
looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, and he
knew she was no longer in control.

But he was, at last.  He schooled his arousal to a
slow burn and gently pried the bikini bottom from
her fingers.  The open ice chest beckoned, and he
wasted no time wetting it anew, eyeing the skimpy
top that still covered her breasts.  Puckered
nipples begged for his touch... he grinned, curling
one hand around her ass as he lifted the other,
dripping with water-soaked payback.

"Mulder!"




The cascade of cold hit her chest and she faltered
for only a second in her ride.  Her hand came up to
cover his, to guide the makeshift sponge over her
heated skin.  Below her, he grinned, and she knew
she'd asked for it.  Somehow, she'd wanted it - and
despite the shock, the conflict of sensation served
to build her desire to aching proportions.  She
felt the need to touch him blossom within and
wordlessly, she pulled him to a sitting position.

His smile faded as their upper bodies met, the cold
cloth pinched between their straining bellies.  She
felt it bleed water still, over her thighs and his,
tiny rivulets of gooseflesh trailing in its wake. 
His mouth closed over hers, his hands gripped her
backside, his knee came up to hold her in place. 
She kept moving, faster now, escaping his devouring
kiss in order to drag air into her lungs, her back
straight and long as she climbed to orgasm.

His mouth, denied her kiss, closed over one cloth-
covered nipple.  The nip of teeth over the tight
bud made her cry out... and she shattered, her face
falling into the slope of his neck, her own teeth
and lips marking his shoulder.  A gasp expanded his
chest and his head left her as his own orgasm
rushed through him.  His breath hissed over her
skin as his hands gripped her hips in a bruising
clasp, grinding her down to meet his pulsing
release.

Sated, she allowed him to pull her down with him. 
They laid for long minutes, the dwindling sun
giving way to a cooler embrace of evening breeze. 
A last trickle of sweat on her back made her shiver
and she felt him move.  The scrape of little
plastic fingers brought her back to awareness, the
scratcher reminding her their exercise was not
without repercussions.

"How's the leg?" she murmured into his neck,
squirming slightly against the tickle on her back.

Mulder chuckled, dropping the scratcher in the
sand.  "Doesn't itch anymore.  Doesn't hurt,
either.  Matter of fact, it feels pretty good."

It should.  Mind-blowing sex on top of painkillers,
a Caribbean sunset on an isolated beach? 
Guaranteed to make the most powerful of hurts
disappear.

"Did you notice... I got Doritos," she said.

"And a new bikini.  Nice.  Thank you."  Despite the
way she'd awakened him, she knew he was still a bit
woozy.

Scully dipped her chin to eye the cast that reached
from foot to knee.  "Limbo?" she remarked dryly.

"Limbo."  His hand caressed her hip.  "Admit it -
for a while there, I was transcending the limits of
the bamboo pole.  Rising on the other side in a
spiritual expression of triumph over repression. 
Like a brilliant sunrise after a stormy night.  Joe
said so."

She almost pointed out that 'Jamaica Joe', their
ebullient host, was no more Jamaican than they
were.  Even the eyepatch seemed to mysteriously
move from one side of his face to another as the
days passed.  But she said nothing, content to just
let Mulder drift in his ignorance.

Limbo.  Chaise lounge limbo.  

"Scully?"

"Mmm?"

"I could sure use something wet right about now. 
My mouth feels like I swallowed a wad of cotton."

With a wicked grin, she reached into the ice chest. 

Sticky, cold, thirst-quenching.  Big bold letters
proclaiming the sweetness within kissed by the sun.

She squeaked when she found herself flat on her
back, Mulder looming over her, the plaster on his
lower leg no hindrance to mobility.  He drained
half the bottle in several gulps before smiling. 
His shades were gone, his eyes sharp and narrowed
with mischief.  So much for woozy.

"Sunkist, Scully."  He held the bottle above her
stomach.  Cold pooled in her navel and she gasped,
her eyes drifting shut.  

Impossible that she could ever forget.  So very...

"Orange," she sighed.  "Definitely my new favorite
flavor."


END


Many thanks to the ladies of Musea for the beta and
excited encouragement.  I think I may have shocked
Forte to her toes when I asked for beta; never saw
a subject line like that, hon. :) Speaking of, this
was really her idea, as she'd challenged me long
ago to write a story using these elements:

Muldertoes
a back scratcher
a convertible
a bag of Doritos
mosquito netting

Seems I'm not quite through with XF fic after all. 
Feedback is much appreciated, though I'm very bad
at replying.  Limited access to my mail and all
that.  But my thanks for reading!

This one's for Sybil.  A whole year late, but Happy
Birthday, sweetie!

    Source: geocities.com/mish_rose