From: "Yvonne Richards" 
Date: Sun, 19 Apr 98 09:01:19 UT
Subject: 1/1 Sated Not Abated II by Yvonne J Richards *NC-17*

DISCLAIMER:  All XF characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and 
the Fox Network.  They also belong to  Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, 
without whom, they would have life, but no soul.  No copyright infringement 
intended. All other characters bear no resemblance to anyone either living or 
dead.  No financial gain is made from this writing.  

ARCHIVE:  GOSSAMER ONLY UNLESS YOU ASK PERMISSION AND ON THESE CONDITIONS
1. 	I REMAIN AS AUTHOR along with my e-mail addy
2. 	MY DISCLAIMER AND LOGLINE REMAIN WITH THE STORY
3. 	YOU LET ME KNOW WHERE IT'S GOING

SATED NOT ABATED  II  (1/1)
Yvonne J Richards
Yvonne-Richards@CLASSIC.msn.com
Set after   SPOILER FOR SEASON 5
CHRISTMAS CAROL, EMILY AND KITSENUGARI 
RATING - NC17
CONTENT WARNING - SOLITARY SEXUAL ACTS AND SMUT  
CLASSIFICATION -  V

Okay, this is the sequel you asked for.  I couldn't write it when you asked 
for it, but it just popped into my head the other day.  So, here it is.  
Enjoy.

If you didn't read the original Sated not Abated - why not?   Storyline so 
far is:

Scully, feeling a need to be close to Mulder, visits him in the early hours of 
the morning.  Finding he has been pleasuring himself, she books a room at the 
house of 'ill repute', (Millie's) he himself uses.  Because, she says, she is 
shy, he has to wear a mask until she extinguishes all the candles.  Her 
intention is to let this deception continue so that they can ease each others 
sexual tensions without him having to know it's her.

Read on, if you dare!

All flames will be used to fan my already overactive imagination!

Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com

***************************************************
------------------NC17------------------------------------- 
IF YOU'RE UNDER AGE - 
OR DON'T LIKE SOLITARY SEXUAL ACTS 
-------------STOP HERE------------------
*****************************************************

Sated not Abated II
by Yvonne J Richards
April 1997


Somehow, I find myself back here.  Back at Millie's 'establishment'.  Back in 
room 1013, the black silk boxers clinging to my masculinity.  The raw silk 
fibers; smooth over my hardness yet tantalising as they brush across my 
scrotum.  The mask lies on top of the bed.  

This time is different, though.

The last time I came to her, I wanted to make love, needed to make love.  Have 
someone caress me as though I meant something to them.  Really meant something 
to them.  Hell, who am I trying to kid?  The last time I'd come, I'd come for 
sex but what I had found was someone who really meant something to me.  
Something that was returned.  I knew as soon as I entered her that she was 
mine.  

I was home.

This time, though.  God, this time _is_ different.

I booked the room an hour before I arranged with Millie for her to be here.  
I'm so highly charged that I know I won't be able to control myself.  I'll 
thrust myself on her and possibly ruin whatever chance I have of this 
relationship going beyond this room.  I don't want to blow this one.  She's 
special.  I know her.  Not only in the Biblical sense.  Every fiber of my 
being fused with hers that night.  She felt it too, I know that.

The electricity courses through my body, shooting pinpricks of pain up my 
engorged penis.  I know if I don't find some release for this soon I will 
scream.  Literally.  Somehow, the porn videos that had once turned me on hold 
no pleasure for me.  Not since her.  It was so good with her that pleasuring 
myself has seemed an incomplete act.  Incomplete without her to complete me.

Too emotive for me?  Well, it seems that, just recently, I've been to hell and 
back.  Not the usual run-of-the-mill 'strange-stuff' that I'm involved in, but 
the emotional side of me.  When I thought I'd killed the only person in my 
life I've ever trusted.  Ever allowed to get close enough to tease open the 
real Fox Mulder.  My body goes cold at the thought.  The blood pounds through 
my ears, a haze of red pain floating before my eyes.  Dear God, what would I 
do without her?  

I don't have an answer.

Slipping under the comforter, in between the silken sheets, I lie on my back.  
The ache in my groin is painful.  Slowly, I slip my hand down to stroke myself 
through the silk of the boxers.  Not too much, I'm too close for that.  
Deftly, I push a long slender finger through the placket and feel my own heat. 
 My need, desire for sexual release, bobs back at me as I draw the material 
down along my pubic hair, just enough, to hold myself.  The tension eases all 
at once as the restrictions of my clothing are gone.  I need another 
restriction though, unfortunately.  I don't want to chance coming on the 
sheets.  Quickly, I ease the condom from its foil packet and push it down the 
entire length of my shaft.  God, it feels good.  Just to be touching myself, 
so, so, good.

With my middle finger I trace lazy circles around the wiry strands where my 
scrotum nestles, bringing two featherlight fingers to rest on the tiny bag of 
nerves at the base of my shaft.  I sigh, a deep, sigh of contentment.  Here, I 
feel close to her, aroused even by her non-presence, the knowledge that soon 
she will be here to surround me with her warm, velvet folds.  To take me to a 
place I've never been with any other woman.  

To take me home.

Grasping my heat I begin the slow, rhythmic stroking that I know will push me 
to the edge of my mental endurance before I implode and explode at one and the 
same time.  My eyelids flutter as my breathing becomes shallower.  With each 
stroke of my hand, each imaginary pump of myself into her, my breathing 
becomes more and more laboured.  I screw my eyes up against the immense 
pleasurepain of it.  I am on the brink, teetering on the edge of joy and 
insanity mixed and mingled into the one breathtaking release, that is orgasm.

Standing on the precipice, ready to fall into the deep, dark abyss.  Rising, 
rising, rising.  I am pumping now, my hand making frantic strokes up and down. 
 My breath coming in short pants, my moans audible, the bed creaking under the 
intensity of my need.  Yes, yes, yes, I am right on the edge, right there, one 
more stroke.  Just one more stroke.  I won't need any more.  Just one more.  
Christ, just one more.  My hand never stops, my brain chanting the mantra.  
Just one more, one more.  _Please, please,_ I _need_ this.  For Christ's sake, 
just one more stroke.  PLEASE.

As suddenly as the waves of pleasure have advanced to my swollen tip, almost 
unbalancing me, they are gone, leaving me tender and frustrated.  Mentally and 
sexually.  I dread her coming to me now.  My need of sexual release is so much 
greater than before.  I will literally screw up with her.  I'll advance on her 
too quickly, my need will be too great, I'll come to soon.  Oh shit.  I bang 
the bed with my fist.  Shit, shit, shit, shit, _SHIT_.

Wiping the sweat from my upper lip, I carefully peel the condom away from my 
still hot, swollen penis.  I flush it away along with my dignity.  Pulling up 
the black boxers, my fingers brush the mask.  Do I really have to wear this?  
Those were the rules.  She said so.  Anyway, she will take it off, once the 
candles are blown out.  Trouble is, tonight, it won't be long before I'm blown 
out myself.

She's tapping on the door.

"Allo, cherie.  Can I come to you?"

"Yes.  I'm ready."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I stand in the doorway of room 1013, feeling somewhat abashed by the deception 
I am continuing with this man.  A deception that affords us a way to release 
both mine and his tension, without either of us, well one of us at least, not 
knowing who the other is.  I knew last time we were together that we were 
perfect for each other.  Not the trite 'fitting together like the proverbial 
glove' cliche, but a deeper, more meaningful togetherness.  Almost as if we 
were meant to fit together, because there was no one else we would fit with.

Whatever.

Tonight, I know that Mulder will be so highly strung you could play a tune on 
him.  God, the poor man had been to hell and back just recently, not least 
when he thought he'd almost killed me.  Finally, he has come to terms with it 
and although he still blames himself, he is beginning to learn to live with 
it.  Even so, I have had my own problems to deal with.  Finding out I was a 
mother and then losing my little Emily.  I wonder how Mulder and I have made 
it through these last few months.  Perhaps it is because we have each other.
  
We haven't been here with each other since that very first time.  A time when 
the world stopped for Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, even though he didn't know 
it at the time.  How could he have even entertained the notion that I may have 
seen that telephone number on his table?  Let alone ring Millie to book an 
appointment with him.  It was the perfect rouse for me.  I could 'have my 
wicked way with him' and then go about our daily lives without me having to 
face him.

How would he react if he knew it was me?  I shudder at the thought.  A sexual 
Dr Scully?  He'd probably laugh, wouldn't understand that I too can have needs 
that bring me to my knees sometimes.  A need of release for my body.  Truth be 
told though, more than that.  A need of him.

"You ave kept to our agreement, I see."

He lies before me with the mask covering his eyes.  This is the one part of 
this whole charade I hate.  Not being able to see his eyes.  Those expressive 
mirrors of his soul.  This, though, this is small price to pay for the 
blissful, intimate coupling of our bodies and souls.  Small price.

Letting the silk robe slip from my shoulders, I slide in beside him, feeling 
his heat as soon as I pull back the covers.  Carefully, I remove the mask from 
his face, stroking his forehead, taking his face in my hands, peppering it 
with kisses that I continue to trail down his neck.

"I ave missed you, cherie."

"God, I've missed you too."

The heat of his erection blazes a fiery trail under the silken sheets as I lie 
beside him, one leg lazily draped across his.  I feel him clench his hands at 
his sides.  I know he's on edge, he's flinched at every touch.  I ache for him 
to release himself into me, knowing his need almost as if it were my own.  I 
lean over to kiss him.  

He needs no further encouragement.  

He is on top of me, kissing me roughly, his hands exploring my body as quickly 
as his brain can tell them to move.  This is not a night for foreplay, this is 
urgent.  He needs a physical connection, and he needs it now.  I'm under him, 
feeling his hot, panting breath above me.  If he exploded on me here and now, 
I wouldn't be in the least surprised.  His knee is pushing my legs apart, his 
fingers finding my folds.  With no preamble I feel a finger in me, then two.  
He is panting, desperate.  I know he can't wait to be inside me, but I sense 
he hates himself for it.

I reach up and take his face in my hands, pulling it down to place a chaste 
kiss on his lips.

"Shsh.  Relax."

I pull him down to rest, his erection throbbing against me.  

"Condom."  His voice, like gravel underfoot.

I shake my head, I'm barren anyway.  Pushing my hand between the heat of our 
bodies, I find him and open myself up to him.  Still, he respects me, pushing 
into me so slowly.  He is so big, such is his need.  He fills me completely, 
in all senses of the word.  Burying himself to the hilt in me, he tenses 
again.  He makes no move and I ask none of him.  He just lies there, composing 
himself.

When he has calmed somewhat, he moves away from me, pulling himself slowly out 
of my warmth.  I feel him tremble with the force of his feelings.

"It is okay to, how you say, let go."

"Too soon.  It's too soon."

Let it go.  Please.  I need this as much as you.

I feel his pain as he withdraws from me and pushes back in, time and time 
again.  With each thrust I can feel his frustration mounting. I hold his face 
again, I can feel the moistness at the corners of his eyes.

"God, I want this so much.  Want you so much.  Why can't I come?"

"Something is troubling you, no?"  No response.  "Perraps because you're 
tense.  Relax, cherie."

"Can't."  His voice is gruff with emotion.   He continues to pump himself into 
me, eventually coming with a groan, collapsing on top of me.

As he sleeps, I watch his beautiful features and wonder how in God's name 
another human being could ever harm him.  Perhaps it is because I love him so, 
that I could not harm him.  Or, perhaps, it's just because he's beautiful.  
His eyelids flutter open and I'm not quick enough to turn off the bedside 
light.  His face is on my chest anyway, and knowing him as I do, he'll not 
want to face me after what he feels he's done.

"You were tired, no?"  I try to keep up the pretence, for just a little 
longer. 

"God, I'm sorry.  I never meant for that to happen.  I was just so---"

Needy, Mulder?

"Just so tense tonight--- I don't normally treat a woman like that.  I'm just 
so ---."  He draws his hands across his face.  "Tense."

I stroke the silky softness of his hair, drawing my arms around him.

"Something is troubling you, is it not?"  No reply.  "You can tell me you 
know."

"I have a strange job.  Stressful.  Dangerous at times.  I have a partner.  A 
woman.  Sometimes I wonder if I'd make it through without her.  She'd lay down 
her life for me."

My breath catches in my chest.

"This is not good?"

"Oh, yes, it is very good."

I tighten my arms around him again.

"So, what is problem?  You have fight?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that.  She's been through hell.  Even though her 
cancer's in remission, she just lost any hope of a future.  The kind of future 
she deserves.  A husband and child, you know, normal stuff.  Then I --- I 
almost killed her, accidentally, but it just cemented how I feel about her."  
He stops and buries his face in the valley between my breasts, his voice 
hoarse with tears.  "It's all my fault.  If she hadn't come to work with me."  
I feel the dampness of his tears against my skin.  "I don't know what I'd do 
without her.  I almost lost her before, to the cancer."

Oh God, Mulder.

"But you didn't, did you?"

"Something saved her, I like to think it was me.  I prayed for her to live."

His voice holds in the depth of his feeling, raw emotion beginning to surface. 
 He lies close to me, shivering just a little, being held in my arms as if 
this is all he's ever lived for.

"I was lost ---"

"I know."  

I've done it now, haven't I?  So, I ask the ultimate question.  

"Does she know that you love her?"

"Soon.  Very soon."  

There is a newfound confidence in his voice as he leans over toward the 
bedside lamp and switches it off, rolling on his side towards me, encircling 
me in his arms.  I move and feel his need press against me.  His breathing 
quickens.  I feel warm, moist lips seek out my own and travel down to my 
breasts.  The warmth spreads instantly from my belly and coils its way down to 
my center.  Slowly, he runs a finger down along my hip and then circles around 
to tease my inner thigh.

That is enough for both of us.

Strong arms embrace me, tightly, squeezing the life blood from me as surely as 
he pumps the life blood through me.  His mouth comes to rest in my hair.  His 
voice strangled, his need, his desire so urgent.

"I need you.  So much."

"I know.  I need you too, Muld---." 

My body tenses as I realise my mistake.  The air hangs thick between us, a 
charged expectancy.  Before I can say more, soft, full lips come down on mine. 
 He murmurs into my mouth.

"I've waited --- so long.  Too long."  He peppers my neck with soft, sweet 
kisses, bringing his luscious lips back to mine briefly and then nuzzles into 
my neck.  "Je taime."

I have neither breath, nor senses to speak, my head reeling from his words.  I 
tell him the depth of my love for him by my actions.  Pulling his body astride 
mine, I offer myself up, sheathing his swollen silk into the rich depths of my 
warm, velvet arbour. 

He is home.  

He kisses me tenderly, pulling away from me to pant as he drives us both 
nearer to that imaginary cliff, ready to freefall.  Knowing there, as we come 
to rest at the bottom, we will find the sanctuary we both need.  Both of our 
bodies exploding together.

We lie in each others arms, spent and tired.  Gentle caresses, featherlight 
kisses, whispered endearments behind silk. The warmth of our bodies making 
covers unnecessary, but the silk sheets feeling erotic on our warm skin.

Together we have risen above ourselves, soared into the night, before 
plummeting into the rich velvetsilk of each other, finding there the delights 
and pleasures that only lovers can.  

Each with the other.

For the other.

Of the other.

Sated _and_ abated.  At last.


THE END

"A beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings
in vain." 
 From 'Shelley' by Matthew Arnold

Doesn't that just sum up Mulder's quest beautifully? 

Thank you for reading thus far.  Any comments to 
Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com

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