TITLE: Worth Breaking (1/6) AUTHOR: Narida Law E-MAIL ADDRESS: narida_law@hotmail.com RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: SRAH SPOILERS: I'm not responsible for references made through S6. KEYWORDS: MSR CONTENT STATEMENT: SMUT alert - if you're not into gratuitous, graphic sex then this fic isn't for you. You may OD on it. Any redeeming social value is purely coincidental. WEBSITE: http://www.angelfire.com/ms/naridalaw DISTRIBUTION: Do not send to Gossamer; I'll send it myself. Otherwise, okay for Spookys and anywhere else as long as these headers remain intact. Telling me is sweet and would be much appreciated, but not obligatory. DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully belong to each other. I'm just telling a story. And to steal my very favorite disclaimer =ever=, generously shared by my wonderful friend Trixie - I almost wish they =would= make a big deal about fanfic... FEEDBACK: If you have something to say, I would love to hear from you. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully embark on a relationship neither is able to handle, and the question of what is or isn't worth breaking must be answered. "...what is everywhere known as Grimm's Law - an aggrandizement of rough rules to ideal completeness." - Thomas Hardy, from "Jude the Obscure" Acknowledgements will follow at the end of the story. ~~~~~~~~ Prologue ~~~~~~~~ She was awakened slightly by the dip in the bed, caused by a large, warm, male body. The pitch-blackness of the room, however, combined with her exhaustion and the certain knowledge of whom the body belonged to, allowed her to remain unconcerned. After all, this was not a new or even unusual circumstance. In fact, such occurrences had been happening for quite some time now. He had probably been unable to sleep, or had woken from a nightmare. Whatever the reason, he was always able to find rest when he had a warm body by his side, and it was no hardship to help him out. He was her best friend. She felt him press close, and her head naturally rolled toward him. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she breathed in his warm masculine scent. He always smelled so good. She let out a small sigh, not having once opened her eyes. As usual, he was naked from the waist up, wearing loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. His arm snaked around her, bringing her body still nearer to his. She could barely breathe for the closeness, but to this, too, she was accustomed. In a matter of moments, he was claimed by sleep and his grip slackened. She then pulled away, only as much as she needed to give herself a little breathing room, but otherwise she was content to let things stay as they were. Moments later, she returned to her slumber. ~~~~~~~~ Chapter One ~~~~~~~~ Office of Dr. Audrey Lake September 14 9:58 a.m. The waiting room was too small. It felt cramped, which didn't help to alleviate Scully's tension one iota. She'd been here only once before, and she hadn't gotten used to it yet. She didn't know if she ever would. But she needed to be there. She was going quietly mad. She recalled the day she had meekly asked Karen Kosseff for an outside recommendation of a colleague. She hadn't known where else to turn, and picking a psychologist out of the phone book wasn't a very attractive option. Going wrong there would invalidate the whole purpose of seeing a counselor in the first place. Karen hadn't come right out and asked why, but the question had been in her eyes. Scully had mumbled something about it being a personal matter that she didn't feel comfortable discussing with Bureau personnel. She had expected Karen to try and convince her that she could communicate whatever was bothering her and it would remain private and confidential. But Karen had merely smiled kindly and provided Scully with a name. For whatever reason, Scully felt very uncomfortable with the notion of discussing these particular problems with Karen. Possibly because Karen was privy to certain information, such as first hand knowledge of who Mulder was. She needed to talk to a total stranger. One she could open up to and not chance seeing in the FBI cafeteria or walking the same corridors that she did everyday. Dr. Lake was just what she needed. A nonjudgmental ear and helpful comments interspersed here and there. Not too many; mostly the psychologist just listened. Voicing her troubles out loud to someone she didn't have to face on a normal day-to-day basis helped her sort out her thoughts. She preferred to speak them out loud to =someone=, because the last thing she needed was to start talking to herself. Today she would start her real therapy. She had decided this after the last session in which nothing of import had really been revealed. Scully had felt a bit nervous and shy to start in on her =real= problems right away, so she'd mostly talked about her general family and professional life, touching on various other light subjects here and there. However, there was no sense in spending the money to see a psychologist if she wasn't going to open up and truly embrace the purpose of these sessions. Dr. Lake's receptionist showed her into the spacious office where everyday people poured out their problems and anxieties, maybe even letting a few dreams slip in now and again; it felt a lot more airy and less confining than the waiting room. Scully took a deep breath. Once settled in the large comfy leather loveseat of her choice, she began to relax. She liked the fact that Dr. Lake was never in the office when she walked in. Scully was allowed to get her bearings in her new surroundings before having to face the other woman. "Hello, Dana." Scully started a bit at the voice; she had been lost in thought. She moved to stand, but Dr. Lake held up a hand and motioned for Scully to remain seated. "Hi...Dr. Lake," Scully responded. The designation was an after-thought; too late she remembered that she had been asked to call Audrey by her first name. Scully was too preoccupied with what she was going to reveal today and how she would go about doing it to remember such details. "Audrey, please," the other woman corrected. She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Her salt-and-pepper hair was, as usual, immaculately groomed. Scully thought absently that she hoped she would age as gracefully. "I think we can dispense with the formalities, wouldn't you agree?" She took a seat in the large chair opposite Scully. Scully relaxed even further at hearing the soothing voice, slightly tinged with a British accent. She had already come to associate the sound with the letting of her burdens - though she had yet to get to the big stuff. Her eyes strayed for the first time to Audrey Lake's credentials. They spied a diploma of particular interest - one she hadn't noticed before. "You attended Oxford University?" "Yes, I did my undergraduate work there," Audrey explained. Scully could not take her gaze off the diploma. Before Audrey could question her interest, she spoke. "Mulder is an Oxford graduate." She looked down at her lap, fiddling with an imaginary piece of lint on her black slacks. "Is he, now?" Scully continued to train her gaze downward. "Is there something else you would like to tell me?" Scully took a deep breath. This would start it. She would spill her guts today. At least, some of them. "Yes." She had spoken sparsely of Mulder, but enough that Audrey knew generally who he was and the background of Scully's professional relationship with him. But what concerned Scully - what she wished to reveal today - had nothing to do with their professional relationship. "Take your time." The understanding tone of Audrey's voice encouraged Scully to say what she needed to say, if only she could find the words. The right words to make it sound more...acceptable. Less sordid. "I'm having sex with him," she blurted. Oh God. That was a little more blunt than she had planned, and judging by the warmth in her cheeks, she was sure her face must be flaming. Audrey's facial expression did not alter. "I see." Scully finally lifted her head to face Audrey. Her heart was pounding like a hammer in her chest. Was it just her, or did Audrey look extremely disapproving? But no - it wasn't disapproval; it was more a piercing stare of concentration. "I...I..." Scully didn't know how to continue, and looked away, unfortunately catching the Oxford diploma again. "Is this a situation you wish to change?" "No!" Her answer came a little too quickly, and she begged herself to get a hold of her reactions. But it wasn't completely truthful. And she would help no one - least of all herself - by not being honest. "Not exactly," she amended. Audrey remained silent, but the expression on her face caused Scully to hasten the explanation. "I enjoy - it. But I'm afraid I've trespassed the boundaries that we agreed to, which may compromise everything we are to each other." The other woman was apparently waiting for Scully to continue. When she didn't, Audrey was forced to say, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand." Scully felt miserable. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cryptic. I'm not sure if I understand anymore, either." "How long has this sexual relationship existed?" "About two months." Audrey nodded. "Why don't you explain what you meant by 'trespassing boundaries.' Am I to understand that you and Mr. Mulder formed some sort of...pact, before venturing into this relationship?" "Yes. We did. We set rules." Scully didn't blame Audrey for looking a little perplexed. "Our working relationship is...extremely important, to both of us. We thought it best if certain limits were established, so as not to endanger the health of our partnership." "What kind of limits are we speaking of?" Scully hesitated. This was where it got tricky. She wasn't sure an outsider would understand. It wasn't the most orthodox of relationships. But when her gaze met Audrey's, Scully pushed away the heaviness in her own chest, knowing it was a risk she would have to take...and that Audrey was there to help. "Perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning," the older woman suggested when Scully still did not speak. "You and your partner had obviously harbored feelings for one another before this began - " "Oh, no!" Scully interrupted. Audrey had jumped to the most obvious - and erroneous - conclusion, and Scully couldn't blame her. "That's exactly the problem. There are no feelings involved whatsoever," she said miserably. Audrey looked skeptical. "None?" "Well...not on his part," Scully whispered painfully. Here it was, the confession that she had been holding inside for such a long time. "But - on mine. And in that way, I've broken our most important rule." "So this was to be a purely physical relationship?" "Yes." Scully bit her lip. "No strings attached. Two adults relieving the tension of a highly stressful work environment - an environment that also makes it extremely difficult for either one of us to meet or sustain any meaningful relationship with others." Scully did not realize that she parroted her answer in monotone, as if she had repeated it hundreds of times before. "Well - that sounds reasonable on the surface. However, put into practice, it becomes a highly volatile situation." "I know." "You are an intelligent, capable individual, Dana. What did you hope to get out of such a relationship?" "It wasn't supposed to be a real relationship at all!" Scully revealed, somewhat agitated. "A - a relationship requires feelings, commitment...work. What we have requires none of that." "Yet from what you have told me, there =are= feelings involved. Yours." Scully shuddered. "Yes. He doesn't know." "And you aren't happy with the situation." "I..." Scully hesitated. "I'm not happy with where I see it going. The problem is, I don't have the right to feel this way. I wasn't supposed to get emotionally... attached." Audrey appeared to consider for a moment. "What about the rules you established? I take it they didn't work as planned?" There was no masking the derision in Scully's voice when she answered. "Oh no - they've all been broken." She went on quickly, "And before you say that I should tell him how I feel, I should tell you that I can't. I won't. I could never jeopardize our professional relationship for self- indulgent emotions on my part." "Dana, I wouldn't advise any action that makes you uncomfortable. At least, not at the moment." Audrey smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling again, and Scully told herself to relax. "May I ask you a question, Dana?" Scully felt herself tense up again, but nodded, if somewhat jerkily. She didn't know if she would be able to answer, but she could hardly refuse to hear the question. "Did you enter into this...situation, thinking that you and your partner would succeed with it? Where did you see it going? Be honest." These were not unexpected questions, but Scully hesitated nonetheless. "I have asked myself that a thousand times. I honestly don't know. When I agreed to the terms we set, I truly believed that we could pull it off. His emotion, or lack thereof, would help me maintain my own emotional distance. That's also what the rules were for, to help keep personal and professional private." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "But in hindsight, I think I knew I was fooling myself. I =had= wanted to develop our relationship further." "But it hasn't happened." "No." It was what they had before, with occasional - or not so occasional - sex. The physical might have moved to a different level but the emotional had not followed. She couldn't move their relationship to the next level by herself; he needed to want it, too. But he didn't. Scully was mortified to find that her eyes were burning behind her lids. I'm not going to cry, she told herself. Taking a deep breath, she went on, "And now...and now I'm afraid that I've ruined the most important relationship in my life." This was her true fear. The one that kept her awake nights, that visited her in her nightmares and haunted her during her waking hours. It was the black mark in her life...the dark cloud on the horizon that threatened showers of loneliness and pain. "How did it begin?" Audrey's voice was so kind, so ready to understand, that Scully could not refuse to answer. "I won't lie. There was always - something - between us. I think it just broke during a particularly long and frustrating case. We were overworked and tired. He was stressed out." ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Two ~~~~~~~~ Dew Drop Inn, Room 7 July 11 3:05 p.m. Scully took a relaxing breath and sank further into the sudsy world she had made for herself. Rarely did the places where she and Mulder stayed have such wonderful tubs, but she always brought bubble bath just in case. This time, she was able to put it to use. She really didn't relish the idea of leaving the soothing water, but it was rapidly cooling, and the pads of her fingers and toes were starting to resemble little prunes. So with a sigh of regret she pulled on the drain and climbed out. Toweling herself off, she heard the connecting door open. "Mulder? That you?" she called. If it wasn't, she wasn't in a pretty situation - her gun was in the bedroom. "It's your secret lover, here to have his wicked way with you," he answered, his voice muffled. She snorted. That would be the day. She told herself that the rush of arousal his words elicited was utterly ridiculous and only went to prove how lacking her sex life had been for the last - oh, seven years or so. The problem was not lack of opportunity, exactly. It was lack of opportunity with the one person she wanted to spice it up with. For all of his innuendoes and risque humor, Mulder had never seriously made a move on her. There had been that one time, a kiss that almost happened, but that was more than a year ago. He hadn't attempted anything resembling lip-lock since, so she chalked it up to temporary insanity. They had been going through a lot at the time. She quickly slipped her clothes on - at the moment, her glamorous attire consisted of sensible cotton underwear, a ratty old t-shirt, and a pair of Mulder's boxers. She had no idea how they had gotten into her possession, but they were comfortable, and he hadn't seemed to miss them, anyway. Opening the bathroom door, she saw what was, apparently, her partner stripping. He had pulled the curtains shut, giving the room an artificial cover of darkness in the bright afternoon. "Mulder...what are you doing?" "Taking my clothes off." "Uh...why?" "Because I'm tired and I want to get some sleep." His tone was very matter-of-fact. He flipped over the bedcovers. "It's three in the afternoon." "With your powers of observation, Scully, it's amazing we didn't have this case wrapped up sooner." She pursed her lips. God, she hated the bastard when he got sarcastic. "This is my room." She hated to state the obvious, but with Mulder, sometimes there was no other recourse. He seemed allergic to the sensible and obvious. He was down to his t-shirt and boxers; the rest of his clothes were strewn carelessly on the floor. His fingers slid under his shirt and her eyes widened. Don't you dare take that shirt off, Fox Mulder... His subconscious apparently chose not to read her mind, and he deftly jerked the shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor to join the rest of his clothes. She wondered if her gulp was audible. It sounded loud enough to her ears. He had the most beautiful upper body, toned and smooth, with just the right sprinkling of chest hair. She never saw him tanning himself, but his skin always had a gorgeous, healthy glow... He cranked up the air conditioning, then flopped onto her bed while she remained standing at the doorway to the bathroom, gaping at him. "Mulder." There was dire warning in her voice. He yawned hugely, stretching his long arms over his head. "You should probably get some sleep too, Scully. You look beat." Thanks. You really know how to stroke a girl's ego, she thought acidly. "What's wrong with =your= bed?" she complained, finally moving from her position to pick up his clothes and fling them onto the nearest chair in irritation. His eyes were already half-closed. "It's in my room." "And what's wrong with your room?" Scully was provoked into asking, exasperation tingeing her voice. "You haven't had a problem with it the last three days." "You're...not in it," Mulder answered in a drowsy voice, the words trailing off at the end. The statement was capped by a slight snore. She gaped at his prone figure in the bed. When he was able to fall asleep, he could do it very quickly, Scully had learned. She sighed. A nap did sound rather nice. The bath had relaxed her muscles, and her limbs suddenly felt heavy. It would be good to rest a bit. They'd been working nonstop since they arrived a couple of days ago. Also, baths had always made her lethargic. Achieving such an effect was why most people took baths in the first place. She considered going into Mulder's room to sleep, but part of her argued that he shouldn't be able to displace her from her own damn bed. Besides, there were probably sunflower seeds and shells all over the place. Ugh. Without further contemplation, she crawled into bed beside her sleeping partner, pulling the covers over them both. There was no sense in wasting perfectly good body heat. Even if it was July. In any case, no matter how much she groused about it, the truth was they were used to sleeping in the same bed together. It was just something they had come to do from time to time, like buying each other meals or saying "it's me" as an introduction on the phone. Just a side effect of their partnership. Scully lay on her side, facing away from Mulder, their bodies not touching in any way. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ah, this really was nice. Mulder had the right idea. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was to wonder what would happen if anyone ever caught them indulging themselves like this. Not that anything untoward =ever= happened. Wait, was that disappointment she was feeling...? ~~~~~~~~ Dew Drop Inn, Room 7 July 11 4:13 p.m. When she woke, Scully found that she had rolled over and was now facing Mulder. Somehow he had hauled her close, making it possible for his erection to press insistently into her stomach, which was not a new sensation by any means. They had, after all, slept together in the same bed on many occasions. But the feel of his hardness, the irrefutable evidence of his masculinity, always made her want what she could not have, and that invariably put her in a bad mood. He had an arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping her firmly where he wanted her. His other hand was cupping one of her breasts. Also, nothing new. That sometimes happened. What woke her was no doubt a new sensation, one she had not previously experienced...Mulder's tongue halfway down her throat. Now that was definitely new. Her eyes popped open. "Mmphf," she said. She tried to glare at him, but since his eyes were still closed, it didn't quite have the effect she was going for. It was also probably not as resolute as she wanted, but the feeling of his warm lips on hers, their wet tongues sliding hotly together, made her want to close her eyes again. She allowed herself to enjoy it a few moments more, but when he began to play with her breast more determinedly, pinching her nipple, she knew she had to stop him now or she wouldn't at all. She wasn't sure about Mulder's state of consciousness, whether he was still sleeping or what, but he was about to be awakened. She abruptly pulled her mouth from his, intending for her entire body to pull away as well, but she had underestimated the strength of his hold on her. Still, her mouth was free, and she gasped for air. She used her hands to push against his chest - his naked chest. Uh oh, that probably wasn't a very good idea. Now her hands burned to run over the expanse of skin so delectably within reach. "Mulder!" They shouldn't be doing this. There was a reason. A very sensible reason, she was sure. "Scully, whad you do that for?" he mumbled. "Let go of me." "Don't wanna." His lips found hers again, nibbling this time, sliding his tongue between her lips and running it over her clenched teeth. "Feels so good." Well, she wasn't going to argue with that. But it was still wrong. And if she could only get her wits about her, she'd tell him why. "What's wrong with you?" she finally cried, not knowing how else to get through to him. His eyes opened at last, and she was mesmerized by the intent they held. "I'm doing something right for a change," he answered. "I'm tired, I'm stressed out, and all I want to do right now is kiss you. Because that makes me feel good. And I think it makes you feel good too." He smiled and lowered his voice seductively. "So let's not play these stupid games anymore, Scully." She didn't understand what he was talking about - what had made him suddenly decide this? - and that made her frustrated, which in turn made her a little pissy. "I haven't been playing any games, Mulder. You're the one playing games here." He looked affronted. "I'm not playing games. I'm being honest. I'm tired of pretending that you don't turn me on, Scully. You do. Every little thing you do makes me hard. Did you know that? You've turned me into a permanent hard- on." Her mouth opened in astonishment, but no words came out. She shook her head. His words sparked a rush of arousal, and she frantically willed it away. "I know you find me attractive," he whispered. "I've seen you checking me out when you think I'm not looking. And all your temperature checks - those are only excuses to touch me." She was mortified. Learning she was so transparent caused two spots of humiliation to flare in her cheeks. She wanted to hotly deny what he was saying, but his next words made her momentary fit of pride fly right out of her head. "I think we should fuck." "What?" Was that her voice that sounded so squeaky? How could she be so turned on and want to slug him at the same time? "It'd be the perfect solution, Scully." "To what?" She'd missed something, here. "Half the time I can't concentrate on our cases because I'm too aware of you." He took a ragged breath. "Everything you do, every move you make. You don't realize it, Scully, but I notice everything about you...the way your ass moves under your skirt when you walk, those tight shirts you wear... your beautiful breasts looking like they're gonna spill right out..." There really was a rather insane looking light in his eyes. She had never been more turned on in her life. "And I'll bet that works both ways," he continued. "Tell me the truth, Scully. Don't I distract you sometimes?" Her first impulse was to nod enthusiastically, but she resolutely kept her head still. If she told him yes, he would no doubt take it as encouragement. She was finding it difficult enough to keep from eagerly going along with his crazy suggestion without the added burden of having to deal with an =encouraged= Mulder. How best to proceed? After a few moments of frantic thinking there was really only one thing she could do - she wasn't about to lie bald-faced to him about something so inconsequential as finding him attractive. So what if she did? She found plenty of other men attractive. None came immediately to mind, that was all. Did he distract her at times? Yes, he did. Much to her consternation, she lusted after him constantly. She just didn't know it was public knowledge. "Sometimes," she acknowledged reluctantly. Half a truth was better than none, right? "You see? Our relieving this tension would be for the good of our work. We'd 'solve the mystery' - the unknown would be made known. The attraction of the unexplored would no longer be there..." She was somewhat insulted by his assumption that once he had experienced sex with her, the main attraction - that of the unknown - would be gone. But she had to focus here. The idea of the two of them, having sex - she suppressed another shiver of longing - as some sort of preemptive strike against loss of concentration at work, was absolutely ludicrous. "The fact that I find you reasonably attractive as a person of the male gender does =not= mean that we should have sexual relations," she informed him frostily. He looked amused, damn him. "It does if it =distracts= you, which is what I asked, and you answered in the affirmative." She opened her mouth to refute his claim, but then realized there was nothing of substance to refute. "I hate to crush that enormous ego of yours, Mulder, but you don't distract me =that= much," she responded haughtily. Oh, if only that were true. He was apparently not swayed by her assertion. "What if I find =you= that distracting?" Her heart jumped to her throat. "Well...I guess you'll just have to stop it," she said lamely. "I've got a better idea. Since I'm attracted to you and you're attracted to me, I say we do something about it right now." "Okay, let's," she said sweetly. "We'll start by forgetting this conversation ever happened." Forget that her heart was pounding madly in her chest. "Hear me out, Scully," he begged, nearly bouncing on the bed. The mattress shook with his enthusiasm. She sighed; all of his crazy theories started out with that plea. His exuberance was almost contagious. Almost. "We're letting our attraction to one another distract us from our work, Scully, whether you admit it or not. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think that's a good thing at all." He sounded disapproving. "I don't think it's a good thing," she said immediately. He nodded. "Physical attraction isn't something you can just will away. Are we at least agreed on that?" If it was, she wouldn't be attracted to him. God, his nearness was making her feel a little dizzy. "Yes, that's true." He looked relieved, then smiled. "Once we've gotten this out of our system, we'll be able to concentrate better on our cases. Not that we're doing too shabby a job, but we can always do better. Wouldn't you agree?" Had Mulder's voice always been this hypnotic? Laced with the remnants of sleep and combined with a little lust and need, it seemed more seductive than it had ever been. She stared into his eyes; they entranced her. "We could always up our solve rate," she agreed, not looking away from his eyes. She was unable to see the satisfaction that bloomed over his face as all her concentration was focused on one part and not the whole picture; all she saw was the crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "Right. I'm glad you're being so reasonable about all this, Scully." He appeared to be very proud of her. "I'm a reasonable person, Mulder," she said automatically. "I know you are," he soothed. He continued, "And sex is a great way to relieve tension...not just the sexual kind, but all kinds. This is a highly stressful job, Scully." She nodded. They had both chosen very stressful occupations. She panicked when she realized that he could interpret her nod to mean acquiescence to his suggestion that they engage in sexual activity. She had to control those involuntary head movements. "It'd never work, Mulder." How could it? The very idea was ludicrous. Tempting, but insane. Much like Mulder himself. "Why not?" "You know why not," she said in frustration. Wasn't it =obvious=? She struggled to voice her precise objections, but they seemed all jumbled in her mind. He ought to know them, anyway. "I don't know," he stated. "You agreed that physical attraction can't be simply willed away. The only way I see it dissolving is if we give in to it. Otherwise, we'll always see each other as the person we can never have - making us even more attractive to one another." She chewed on her lip. "Yes, but..." Oh =why= weren't the arguments coming? He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "We know each other. And we trust each other. We'd never have to worry about disease or...or..." She knew what he meant. Pregnancy. "No strings attached, Scully. No messy emotions to get in the way. We love each other, the way two best friends love each other, and that bond is stronger than any connection to another human being I've ever had in my life. Our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me." She latched onto his admission. "Sex would ruin that." "No, no," he hastened to assert. "Our friendship would have nothing to do with it, don't you see? Just a man and a woman, relieving stress and tension together." When had his hand started that soft stroking gesture against her spine? She shivered. "Sex is an animal instinct, like eating or sleeping. Its deprivation naturally causes the deprived - you and me - to supplement it in =some= way." His voice was a seductive whisper. "This need becomes a priority, like any other animal need, and that would be when our work could be disrupted. I think we both agree that that would be a bad thing." His hold on her tightened once more. She had to admit that this argument held some merit. Mulder had never sounded so reasonable. "Of course, this need could be fulfilled by other people, too," he conceded somewhat grudgingly, "but since we're attracted to each other and trust each other with the important stuff, why let that go to waste? Besides, what we do isn't exactly conducive to meeting people." Who weren't circus freaks or flukemen or shapeshifters, he meant. He appealed to her with earnest eyes to see the rationality of his idea. "I would =never= do anything that would jeopardize our friendship. You believe that, don't you, Scully?" The tremor in his voice combined with its tone of utter sincerity made it very easy for her to believe him. There was no reason why he should lie about such a thing. "So you want us to...have sex? This once?" Even saying the words made her feel slightly light-headed. "Whenever we feel like it," he breathed. "Maybe after this once, we won't want to again. Maybe it'll be enough. But we won't limit ourselves. What do you say?" Was this how he picked up women in bars? If he turned the full blast of those puppy dog eyes on some unsuspecting female, he could no doubt get anything he wanted. Hell, it was working on her and she was hardly 'unsuspecting.' What swayed her, however, were his arguments. He seemed to have given it a great deal of thought. That in itself was a pretty heady notion. "We are both mature, responsible adults, Scully," he said, when she hadn't said anything. "More than capable of separating sex and friendship, don't you think?" Her mind chose that moment to recall a movie. "It didn't work for Harry and Sally," she said. Amazingly, he picked up on her wavelength, as out of the blue as the allusion appeared to be. "First of all, those were fictional characters," he chided. "Second, once she slept with Harry, Sally didn't =want= to separate the two. We don't know if they both had tried it that it wouldn't have worked." Well, the 'When Harry Met Sally' argument was all she had left, and he had effectively and convincingly disputed it, so it seemed to her that it was time to give in. NO! What was she thinking? She had to use the strength of her mind to overcome the weakness of her flesh. Unfortunately, that's where he had attacked - her mind - and the second an argument popped into her head, she heard him voicing his contentions again, convincing her even before the argument fully formed. She considered herself to be a mature, responsible adult. When he put it that way, saying no would be to say that she couldn't handle a "mature" relationship. He clearly thought he was more than capable of handling it. And if he could do it, then of course, so could she. The concerns nagging in the back of her mind seemed to quiet with this reasoning. In any case, it appeared Mulder was armed with an arsenal of excuses and seemed fully prepared to shoot down any possible resistance without breaking a sweat. "I suppose that's right," she said grudgingly. "So what's stopping us?" Mulder traced a finger down her cheek. His touch immediately caused her nipples to harden. Scully pondered his query. None of this sounded remotely right, of course, but he had been very persuasive and she was tired of arguing. His hand dropped from her face to the aroused peak of one breast. She vaguely realized that this was his first blatantly sexual overture aside from their earlier kiss, and that she ought to be more outraged by the liberties he was taking. But his fingers began playing delicately with her nipple, distracting her. It wasn't as if she could truthfully say she didn't want to have sex with him. She'd wanted him for a long time - so long she couldn't even recall when the wanting began. It was just a fact of life she had learned to live with. However, it did seem rather ludicrous, now that he had pointed it out, that all this time, they'd been right under each other's noses, yet had never taken advantage of their mutual attraction. "You feel so good," he whispered, eyes glazing over with a kind of primal need. He rolled her onto her back while she was still contemplating. He lifted her shirt up over her breasts so that they were bared to his view. He licked his lips. "Can I taste you?" She could feel his hot breath on her newly-exposed skin. This felt so incredibly right - and yet, so very wrong. She knew she ought to stop him, but hadn't they already crossed some invisible line? And if they were going to cross the line, mightn't they just go all the way? No use breaking only half the rules, right? Once you'd broken one, you were already a criminal. She stared once more into his beautiful hazel eyes, wide with hope and lust, and knew they mirrored her own. Her doubts had been effectively muted. The only thought in her head was how much wanted him. She hesitated a moment, then nodded, sealing her fate. His relief was almost palpable. He lowered his head, his tongue snaking out to run a damp circle around one nipple, already puckered into a hard little nub from his earlier touch. Now, his ministrations caused her breasts to further ache with want, and she groaned. "You have the most luscious breasts, Scully," he breathed reverently, kissing the nipple he had just laved. "I've noticed those shirts and sweaters you've taken to wearing. My imagination works overtime with you, Scully. Do you know how many times I've dreamed of taking a whole one of these into my mouth?" She moaned, wishing he would stop talking about it and do it already. Now that she had agreed to this, she was determined to enjoy every minute. After all, it was possible they would decide afterwards against doing this again. "You like that idea, huh?" She didn't know whether he was referring to the idea of the act or the idea that he dreamed about it. She found both possibilities equally arousing. "Well, I do it a lot, Scully," he shared, his voice rasping like sandpaper. "You wouldn't believe how much." I'll believe anything if you'll just fulfill both of our fantasies, right now, she thought a little desperately. Would it be really rude of her to just pull his head down and thrust her breast into his mouth? Finally, seeming to sense her desperation, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, then took as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. She gasped; she had never felt anything quite as incredible as the sensation of Mulder suckling her. This was already better than most of her past experiences with sex. If he did just this all day, she would be pretty content. She found the little noises he made while performing this act almost as exciting as the act itself. She felt like the most desirable woman in the world; he couldn't seem to get enough of her. With his mouth still sucking strongly at her, his hands reached up to pull her shirt completely off. It fell, forgotten, to the floor. Her hands had somehow made their way into his hair and were clenching tightly. He released her breast with a slight suctioning sound and worked the other into his mouth. Electricity shot through her veins, pooling into liquid form at her center. With his teeth he nipped lightly at her nipple, and the sensation felt so startlingly good that she yelped and arched off the bed. She saw, even with his mouth full of breast, the grin that split his face at her reaction. In another situation, she might have wanted to wipe that smug look away, but at the moment, she couldn't care less. As good as he was making her feel, he had a right to be smug. When he apparently decided it was time to move on, he deliberately rubbed up against her, making his way leisurely back up her body, skin to skin, letting her feel the friction of his chest hair against her nipples. The feeling was indescribably erotic. Her fingers felt boneless, falling from his head to his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his taut, smooth skin over the hard muscle beneath. He then lowered his head and kissed her again, rubbing his tongue possessively against hers, devouring her. Her hands traveled up and down the length of his arms, absently marveling at how different he felt from herself. He was so hard and smooth everywhere, and she was eager to feel if that applied to all of his appendages. And he was so smart. They had been idiots to deny themselves for so long. That said, she was tired of being the submissive one. Hooking one arm around his neck, she used her weight and the element of surprise to topple him onto his back. She fell not so gently onto him, but the grunt he let out wasn't one of pain. She straddled him fully, her knees on either side of his ribcage, and bent to spear him with a fierce look. He looked a little anxious for a moment, his macho facade slipping a bit, but he regained his equilibrium and smiled lazily. "Be gentle," he pleaded in mock seriousness. She smiled back, somewhat ferally, and he again looked a little worried. Oh, he was all hers now, all Mulder under her, and she was going to enjoy herself. She trailed one finger down his cheek, exactly as he had done to her earlier, her nail digging into skin near the corner of his mouth. Immediately she reached down to soothe the hurt with her lips. "You know you don't really want me to be gentle," she husked into his ear. He shivered, then yelped when she reached behind her to feel the strength of his resolve. "Very impressive, Agent Mulder...I can't wait to get that in me." He groaned at her words. "But first I think I want you to have a little taste test." She was somewhat surprised by the words that fell so easily from her tongue. This was their first time together, and she ought to show some modicum of reserve, but - this was Mulder. She was used to demanding what she wanted, even if she didn't always get her way. He groaned, clutching her thighs tightly. He looked at her with feverish eyes. "You read my mind, Scully," he rasped. "I can't think of anything I want to do more. You have no idea how much I - " "Shut up, Mulder," she ordered, exasperated. He talked way too much. She was going to put that delicious mouth to much better use. She hopped off the bed for a moment to dispose of her boxers - well, Mulder's really - and panties already soaked with her desire. He clamped his mouth shut, immediately doing as he was told, and she could barely stifle a smirk. In this situation, he was a typical male - so easily controlled by sex. A side bonus to agreeing with his plan. If she had known he would become so docile, she'd have agreed much faster. Grinning, she clambered back on him, treating him rather like a gymnastic apparatus. Her smile widened at the thought. "You can't possibly be as thrilled as me," he claimed huskily, taking in her beaming face. She leaned down and kissed him, hard. "You ready?" she whispered. This time it was his turn to grin. "Been ready for the last few years or so..." At her raised eyebrow he raised both of his. "I've even been building strength. Why do you think I eat so many sunflower seeds...?" She couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. He took the opportunity to lift her up a little so that he could slide himself down, until she was poised directly above his face and her laughter had turned to breathless pants of anticipation. The first touch of his tongue sent a bolt of electricity from her clitoris to the rest of her nerve endings. He worked her slowly at first, running delicately through her folds, laving gently. However, it soon became not enough, and he met her increasing need with stronger strokes of his tongue. At a critical point he sucked her clit into his mouth and she jerked on him, crying out, practically rubbing herself in his face. "You taste incredible, Scully," Mulder shared in a voice so contorted with lust that it was barely recognizable as his. "I could do this all day." I could let you, she thought hazily, not able to muster enough concentration on the act of speaking to actually lend voice to the words. She cried out when he worked his tongue into her; it was one of the most erotic sensations she had ever felt. The knowledge that it was =Mulder's= tongue doing these things to her made it even more exciting. Damn, he really did have a talented mouth. He wasn't kidding. All those hours of shelling sunflower seeds had certainly not gone to waste... Soon his tongue was replaced by several fingers, rubbing and stroking her expertly, occasionally sliding into her tight wet heat. She found herself moving up and down on his hand. It felt so good she couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like once she had his dick - so much bigger than a couple of fingers - inside her. She couldn't wait to find out. Spots of white were beginning to dance in front of her eyes, and she knew it wasn't going to be very long before she...oops, there she went, leaping, flying over the edge as her entire world first went completely white and then dark. She heard someone screaming, and from the slight pain in her vocal chords, realized it was her. So much for not being submissive. She found herself promptly tossed onto her back, her legs spread wide apart as Mulder asserted himself there, his cock immediately finding her entrance, pushing unrelentingly, inexorably into her. The stretching sensation was almost unbearable as she tried to relax her muscles to accommodate him more easily. It had been such a long time since she had had to accept a man inside her body that it was not without a little discomfort. For the first few moments the pain almost overwhelmed the pleasure. "Jesus, Scully," he gasped. "Why is this hurting you?" He sounded genuinely alarmed. "I haven't done this in a l-long t-time," she answered, concentrating on her breathing. Her admission seemed to make him grow even a little big bigger, and they both groaned, for different reasons. God, it felt like he was splitting her in two. She tried to keep the whimpering to a minimum, though she was certain tissue that wasn't meant to be torn was being torn anyway as she breathed in short, shallow pants beneath him. Never once, though, did she move to stop it. She knew if she were to show any indication of real resistance, he would roll off of her immediately, and she didn't want that. She wanted this, needed it as much as her next breath. Just underneath the pain was the wonderful, incomparable sensation of being completed. When he was finally all the way in, when he was buried so deep inside her that she could feel his balls resting lightly against the curve of her ass, she let out a deep sigh of contentment. Now there was truly no going back. She had never felt so filled. The pressure she had felt during his invasion had been well worth this delicious feeling of fullness. "You feel fucking amazing," he groaned, shifting his hips a little. She winced, but was pleased nonetheless. She thanked God he had prepared her so well - she suspected it would have been a lot more difficult to accept him into her if he hadn't. "You do, too," she answered truthfully. Yes, 'fucking amazing' just about covered it. She sucked in a breath when he slid nearly all the way out, then back in. No wait, she had spoken too soon. =That= felt fucking amazing. He did it again, and again, each stroke more pleasurable than the last. She could tell that he wanted to be gentle; he was holding himself back. But each thrust shred a little more of his control, until every stroke of his shaft was hard, fast, unchecked. She liked seeing him totally out of control like this, as he rode her hard and caused her to jerk against him like a marionette. She liked knowing she was the one to make him so wild with lust and need. She especially enjoyed feeling him fuck her like a madman, as if she was the woman he wanted most in the world and this was his one and only chance with her. Unbelievably, she could feel the pleasure build again until she was once more in danger of toppling into the abyss of climax. This had =never= happened to her. She had accepted long ago that she was not a multi-orgasmic woman. This had never particularly bothered her. She counted herself lucky; some women found it impossible to climax at all, while others didn't have partners who could get the job done and had to go it solo. Now she had Mulder to thank for showing her the wonderful world of multiple orgasms. He jerked against her, ramming one last time into her, so hard that for a moment the pleasure and pain blurred. She felt him expand, growing impossibly bigger and harder. Then he was gushing into her, the hot seed of his life rushing forward to fill her in all the places his cock hadn't reached. It was more than she could take, and her back arched, lifting her hips up high as her second orgasm hit. It wasn't quite as strong as the first, but in many ways it was even better, first and foremost being that this time, she had the feel of gripping Mulder's hot engorged cock inside her as it happened. They both passed out for a few moments. When next she opened her eyes, it was to find that Mulder had straightened the covers a bit and adjusted her limp body in a way that she lay plastered against him. Looking up at him, she saw that he looked positively smug. Smug and sated. When he saw that she was looking at him, his expression immediately turned hopeful. He gave a tentative smile. She supposed this was the point where he expected her to go into histrionics, wailing about what they had done and what they were going to do about the future and so forth. If she had not had that second orgasm perhaps this would have been the case. Currently, however, she felt much too happy and content to go through any of =that=. Deciding to go the mature, calm route, she returned his smile, then stated, "I suppose we should draw up some rules about this." It was probably a safe assumption that they would want to do this again. She knew she did. "Rules?" He sounded dismayed. "Yes. Other than keeping this to ourselves, which I think is a big given?" She felt rather than saw him nod. She continued, "As a preventative measure. Establishing rules would help keep us from getting too carried away." "But Scuh-lee," he whined. "We're grown ups. I don't think we need rules to keep everything separate." "We're entering into a very dangerous situation here, Mulder. Emotions are very volatile. Lines should be drawn, at least in the beginning, and we have to make sure that they don't get blurred." She was making too much sense, even for herself. God, she really knew how to suck the fun out of a situation, didn't she? "At the beginning?" he hung on to her one concession with hope in his voice. "Well...yes. If we continue to do this, I'm sure that after awhile some of the rules will eventually become unnecessary." "I see." He was quiet as he mulled. "I agree; this makes perfect sense," he announced. "You're right, Scully." She was a little suspicious by the vehemence of his complacency, but she muttered, "Of course I am. =You're= being surprisingly reasonable all of a sudden." "Surprisingly?" he exclaimed, sounding insulted. "I can be just as reasonable as you." She decided not to share her doubt about that one. "And to prove it, I'll even come up with the first rule," he offered. Gee, take your time thinking about this, she thought sarcastically, then frowned. What was the matter with her? She ought to be thrilled that Mulder was embracing her suggestion about drawing lines. Or maybe this was just an opening to yet another wisecrack. "Okay...what is it?" she asked warily. "We shouldn't say each other's names during the deed. Like the way you screamed my name just now? Not allowed." Was he kidding? She twisted her head to look up at him, but he seemed perfectly serious. "It makes sense, Scully," he continued. "If we're to separate the sexual act from =us=, from our friendship, then it makes sense to distance who we are from it, entirely." She furrowed her brow. He sounded so cold, so impersonal. But that was the point, wasn't it? He'd made it clear from the beginning he didn't =want= to get emotionally involved. Well, neither did she, she told herself stubbornly. She had to get her feelings for Mulder under control. Like he said, it was just the unresolved attraction between them that was making her feel these strange love feelings for him. Now, that would stop. She ignored the pang of loss she felt in the pit of her stomach. "Okay..." she agreed slowly. "And we should never do this during an ongoing case. It should be like it was this time, after things have been wrapped up. The point is to keep from getting distracted from our work, not aid the distraction." "Agreed," he injected smoothly. "In that case, to keep up the impersonal nature of our bargain - we're just using each other for sex, after all - I say that our apartments are off limits, too." Did she detect a note of asperity in his voice? She looked at him suspiciously, but his face was the epitome of blandness. "All right, that makes sense." Damn, she'd never fulfill that fantasy of making love to him on his couch. "No funky business at the office, either," she added. "Are you kidding?" He sounded appalled. "If you even =consider= compromising my virtue at FBI Headquarters I'll finish this like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis while she hid a smile. "Anything else?" All right, there was definitely a note of sarcasm there, but she chose to ignore it. She thought some more, but there didn't seem to be...oh. There was something else. Discussing it would feel just about as lovely as a root canal, but it had to be said. "We can see other people." Her voice was deceptively calm. In reality, she thought she was going to show Mulder the contents of her stomach. This was =not= the conversation she wanted to have at the moment. This was not the conversation she wanted to have, =ever=. Before, they had had a kind of unspoken agreement - while they were of course free to have romantic relationships with other people, they had nevertheless remained "faithful" to one another, despite not being involved in a romantic relationship with each other. Changing this fact changed that previous dynamic. Before, "fidelity" had been individual choice. Now, it could be misconstrued as obligation. It was ridiculous to couch it in terms of fidelity, anyway, but she couldn't think of what exactly to call it. She just knew that she didn't want Mulder to feel that he needed to abstain from going out with other people out of some misplaced sense of duty to their new physical relationship. What they had embarked upon still couldn't be considered a romantic relationship. If they went strictly by the rules, they weren't having any kind of relationship at all. They were the same as they had always been. Their bodies were going to help them relieve stress and tension from time to time, but nothing significant was to change. She didn't know if it was really possible to separate existences and realities, but they were going to try. And one of the first steps was to acknowledge that they were nothing but temporary sexual diversions for one another - a circumstance that could change at any given moment. For instance, if Mulder found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Stop it, stupid heart! she thought in annoyance, when a sudden pain shot through the organ in question. "Mulder?" she prompted gently when he still hadn't said anything. His agitation was clear from his reply. "For crying out loud, Scully, this thing's barely started and you're already talking about seeing other people?" He was pissed. "I just think we should be prepared for any eventuality," she soothed hesitantly. He could have no idea how hard this was for her. But, she refused to allow herself to harbor any false hopes. If they didn't get this straight right from the beginning, she would be so easily lulled into a false sense of security, before having her heart shred to pieces when the inevitable finally happened. When it came time to let him go, the last thing she wanted was to make him feel obligated to her, or for her to make a huge tearful scene begging him to stay with her. She cringed at the thought. "All right, fine," he snapped. "You can fuck whoever you want to fuck, and I'll look the other way." For a moment she was inert with confusion. Her, why was he talking about her? This was for =him=. She would never want anyone else. She supposed it was only natural - at the moment there wasn't another woman in his life and he had naturally taken her statement to mean that she wanted to be able to see other men. "Mulder," she began cautiously. "As friends and two people who care about each other, we have to plan for such a situation." She sighed when he continued to sulk in silence. "When - if," she amended for his benefit, "one of us becomes emotionally or physically involved with another person, we should let each other know immediately." Even the thought of Mulder coming forth with such news was enough to cause bile rise in her throat. Yet, this discussion was necessary, even if he couldn't yet see the sense in it, so she pressed bravely onward. "For health reasons if nothing else." "Should we each take a blood test every time we hit the sack, too?" Even his scowl was attractive, she noted distractedly. "No..." She knew he was lashing out from his perceived hurt, and wanted to ease his tension as much as she could. "I trust you. And I think you trust me, too. That's why we're doing this, right?" She took a deep breath. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he hadn't bargained for all these restrictions when he had made the rash suggestion that they sleep together. Maybe she should just keep her mouth shut and go along with whatever he was capable of giving. But this was for their own good. She didn't want to lose the comraderie they shared; she doubted that he did, either. If they stopped now, that could still be salvaged. It'd take some time, but it could be done. If they went on like this, however, separating their personal relationship from their professional relationship would only get more difficult as time passed. This was precisely why they needed to set these ground rules, to make sure that didn't happen. The rules would help them maintain focus of who they were. Who they =really= were. She suddenly felt very frightened. What were they really doing? Wasn't it completely insane to risk what they had for a few sexual encounters? She sighed in resignation. Perhaps not, but now that she had made love with Mulder, she could never voluntarily go back to not being able to make love with him. He would have to be the one to express that desire. "Yes," he answered finally. "I trust you." He sighed. "Okay, so we're gonna tell each other anytime we each score. Anything else?" "Well, along those same lines..." God, she hated herself sometimes. She really did. He had gone silent again. "I know this should be obvious, but...=this=," she gestured to the tousled bed and their state of nudity, "shouldn't be a factor when making a decision about whether or not to enter a relationship with someone else." Shut up, woman, shut up! She was desperate to make it clear to him that she did not want to hold him back, that he was free to pursue his own interests and happiness without feeling responsible for her. "In other words, I don't want you to feel some misplaced sense of loyalty to me, or this. If you find someone, Mulder, I'll be thrilled for you, as your friend and your partner." She floundered at his black look. "We don't owe each other any emotional...obligation," she finished, for lack of a better way to say it. "Has anyone ever told you that you're really romantic?" he asked darkly. "There's no romance in this. None," she stated fervently. It was fine and dandy for Mulder to be so condescending about all this, but he didn't have the same level of emotion invested. This was clearly evidenced by his initial proposition and his subsequent lack of argument over the rule-making, despite his blustering. He poked fun at =her=, but she didn't see him really disagreeing with any of it. Inside, he was probably relieved that she was being so "mature." "Okay fine - we're fuck buddies," he snarled. "Agreed." "You sound upset." She toyed with the sheet covering his stomach. "I'm =not=...hell yes, I'm upset!" "I didn't mean to upset you," she said, running her hand soothingly over his chest. "But it's over now. We can move on." He brooded sullenly as she waited for him to get over his pique. She knew he wasn't really mad at her; this just probably wasn't the way he had pictured things would happen. That was her Mulder, always jumping in head first without fully considering all the repercussions. Of course, she grinned to herself, she wouldn't have him any other way. "Okay," he sighed finally, in acceptance. A pause, then, "What are we going to have for dinner?" Oh, now =that's= romantic, she retorted silently. But she smiled, burying her face in his chest so that he couldn't see. "Whatever you want," she purred, laughter in her voice. It wasn't like they had many choices; the local diner or delivery pizza were the safest bets. Then she shivered as he slid a little ways down to nibble behind her ear. He growled into her ear, "Then I'll have to ask that you stay right there." ~~~~~~~~ Chapter Three ~~~~~~~~ Mulder's Apartment September 17 8:58 p.m. Mulder flopped ungracefully down onto his couch and stared up at the ceiling. He was wide awake. His fingers itched to pick up the phone, but he was resisting the urge to call Scully. It had been nearly a week - well, okay, three days - since they had last made love, and he was feeling a little antsy. Not to mention really, really horny. He wanted to call Scully; there was no real reason =not= to call Scully, except that he was a big coward. In fact, the next stage of this affliction was to sprout wings and start clucking. The problem was that he didn't want to push her too far, too fast. It had taken him five years to make a =real= move for precisely that reason, and even that had been thwarted in the end. It had taken him another year to make a second move - a really blatant one at that, since Scully wasn't the greatest at noting subtlety. Hell, he'd come right out and told her he loved her, though her naturally cautious nature wouldn't let her believe him, loaded to the gills as he had been with drugs. He'd even contrived a baseball game that was really nothing but a poor smokescreen to allow him to touch her and hold her that close. He'd wanted to rip Padgett's heart out himself after reading the things that freak had written about Scully. It had infuriated him that another man had dared to fantasize about her, even though part of him, of course, couldn't blame Padgett. His partner was, after all, incredibly hot. Still, she had scared him shitless for a moment when she didn't agree right away that the naked pretzel scene Padgett had written about was 'a priori,' too. She was a cruel woman. In any case, he was closer now than he had ever been to getting Scully right where he wanted her. It would be a crime to frighten her off now with needy, overeager calls. She had hated those even when they =hadn't= been sleeping together. Sighing, he turned his head, his gaze falling upon the black leather-bound book resting on the coffee table. He'd purchased it during lunch, escaping from the office and the vision of Scully in a slit skirt. After their one and only transgression in the office, which really hadn't been their brightest move, he hadn't wanted to risk a repeat. Fleeing the office had been the only recourse. He wasn't sure if the book had been an impulse buy or not. He'd needed some sort of mental release for weeks. He still wasn't sure if the idea of writing in a journal had been building for all that time, or if it had come to him when he'd been standing in the bookstore, catching sight of it on his way to the porn mags. They had now become deterrents for his lust; after being with Scully, the glossy images of fake-breasted, shaved, big-haired women just didn't do it for him anymore. It didn't really matter, he supposed, =why= he'd purchased the journal - the fact was, it was here and he had no one else to talk to. Sitting up, he reached over and switched on the lamp. He picked up the journal, and for a moment just held the weight of it in his hand. He felt kind of idiotic, actually. He'd never written in a journal in his life, and the concept seemed kind of - well, girly. He had never felt much compulsion to put his thoughts on paper, and wasn't sure why he felt drawn to it now. Of course, he had never been in a situation quite like this one before. He flipped the journal open to the first neatly lined blank page. It occurred to him that he was supposed to mar it with ink, fill it up with the things in his head. It seemed like a waste. The book was probably better off with its nice new blank pages, without the crap in his head messing it all up. And his writing was really messy. And ink inevitably smeared when he wrote anything. But those things didn't really account for his hesitation. That stemmed from another source - he didn't know what he was going to write, which was more than a little frightening. What was going on in his head was confusing and, at times, threatened to make him say or do things he knew he shouldn't. But he had never faced what those things were. This journal might make him face them. And he just wasn't sure he wanted to know. *You don't even want to know what's going on inside your own head, Mulder? Imagine how the rest of us feel.* Scully's voice popped up in his mind out of nowhere to taunt him. Grabbing a pen that lay with the rest of the clutter on the coffee table, he began to write. **I am sleeping with Scully. No, wait - Scully and I are sleeping together. I am sleeping with a woman and she happens to be Scully. We are relieving tension together. Yeah, that's it - relieving tension. It was my idea. Hell, of course it was. It all started about two months ago. Two months yesterday, in fact. Not that I'm counting. You could say that Scully and I have been seeing each other for two months, if this was a normal kind of relationship. But, of course, "normal" wants nothing to do with me. And if I'm honest, I'll admit that Scully wants what "normal" wants. At least, romantically. Damn it. This is not how things were supposed to be. I was supposed to be the one with all the control. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to sway Scully to my thinking, but now that I've had her, I'm more impatient than ever to have it all. Which most likely means I'm going to fuck things up. All right, lack of control was kind of what brought this all about, I'll admit. I couldn't control myself around Scully. Well, I could, but it was getting harder and harder. Yep, you could take that both ways and they'd both be accurate - the situation was difficult, and I was always sporting wood around her, too. More and more I started to think that if I could have her, just once, it would make all these pesky feelings of lust for my partner go away. It was getting really distracting - each case became more of a reason to be around her than to actually bring any truth to light. Okay, I don't think I really believed that "just once" crap for a second. But it was really convenient to think so at the time. The Time Before. As in, before I actually had a naked Scully in my arms and was making love with her. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable theory. Scully is, after all, a very intelligent, beautiful, wonderful, sexy, compassionate... Scully is an attractive woman. And while I may be oblivious to a lot of things, but Scully's attractiveness is not one of them. I also have the same natural impulses as the next guy. And my natural impulse around Scully was - is - to toss her onto the nearest bed - or floor, if no furniture's available - and show her why it's a dangerous idea to wear her tight little shirts around me. Or any clothes at all, for that matter, since she looks incredible in anything. I suppose the alternative then would be for her to walk around naked, and that wouldn't help the situation. Though I can't say I wouldn't be the happiest guy on the planet - provided, of course, that only I would be privy to the...okay, damn, this was =not= supposed to degenerate into another Scully fantasy. Anyway, I dreamed of "just once" constantly. Just once, I told myself, that's all I would need. Scully was utterly desirable - but most likely it was because I felt like I couldn't have her. Nothing will tempt a man more than what he thinks he can't have. I convinced myself it was because she felt so off limits to me that I wanted her so damn much. And once I had her, well, that would be that. Okay, I suffer from denial. A lot of it. I won't attempt to defend myself except to say that at the time =it= happened, I still believed the lies I was telling myself. Sort of. I still don't know where I got the balls to do it. I had insinuated myself into her bed for months by then - sleeping, and copping a feel here and there, which she surprisingly didn't seem to mind. Of course, she might not have noticed, but I highly doubt that. I imagine it's hard to miss a man's hand clamped around your breast. You may ask why I'm into this kind of masochism, being so near her and yet never really being able to go the last inch. What you have to understand about Scully is that one inch with her is like ten miles. You gotta train for that sort of thing. I already wanted her so badly my teeth hurt just to be around her...and I start sleeping in the same bed with her, touching her in all her lovely feminine places? Well...not =all=. But it was the sweetest torture imaginable, and I was addicted to it. Some people are addicted to drugs, others to alcohol, others to chocolate - there are a lot of things, I suppose, that a person could get hooked on. Well, sign me up for the meetings. Hello, my name is Mulder and I'm addicted to Dana Scully. Most mornings after we'd slept in the same bed I was out like a shot and into the shower where I could jerk off in relative peace. But I wouldn't trade a single one of those Scully-scented nights for all the gold in Fort Knox. Don't imagine that I let up on the sexual innuendo I so delight in. It's already been established that I am a masochist, after all. I even tried pathetically to let her know in little ways how I felt about her, not really consciously accepting that that was what I was doing. Unfortunately, she's used to me and never takes anything I say seriously. I don't really blame her - I wouldn't take me seriously, either. But I can't help feeling that if she'd only use some of those smarts and figured out that I was in love with her, she could have set me straight right then and there and we wouldn't be where we are today. I like to think that I would have taken the rejection like a man. There would have been some awkward weeks, yes, but we would have risen above it and moved on. We'd still be partners, friends. But now I've been given a taste of heaven, and if I had to give it up, I think I'd run off in search of the next ghost ship and make sure to actually drown this time. Without Scully to wake up to, Scully to say "I love you" to, God, what kind of life would that be? I haven't lost her yet, though. I just wrote "yet," implying that it's going to happen eventually. I guess I'm still living in denial though part of me knows better. For now, for today, I still have Scully in my life. Ever since we started fucking like bunnies, I started to plan how I could get her to fall in love with me. I know she enjoys the sex. I was pretty pleased when we managed to break all those damn rules within the first six weeks. I thought things were finally falling into place for me; in another six weeks we'd have moved in together. I'm still working on it, but it doesn't look good. After all the rules were broken, we've just been fucking whenever and wherever we want. She doesn't want anything more than that, though, and that's what I've got to make happen. I need her to want more. I'm more than ready to give it to her. Now I'm trying not to call her because I don't want her to get annoyed with me. In a way, it's good - deprive her a little and she might come to realize how much she needs it. Unfortunately, that means I get deprived as well, and I already know I need her, which makes it ten times worse. I'm here in my place and across town she's in hers, doing her Scully thing. All so mysterious yet desirable. I want her to do her Scully thing in my apartment. I'd like to experience that for the rest of my life, I think. Maybe that's not long enough. I like to imagine Scully in her apartment - I like being there. I feel so surrounded by Scully, always, when I'm there. I think that goes back to the time when she first let me sleep in her bed. My father had just been killed. In the midst of that horror, I had Scully to go to. I was drunk as a skunk and probably reeked, but she put me in her sweet-smelling bed and let me sleep there. I think I must have fallen in love with her then. It surely accounts for why I always feel so safe when I'm surrounded by her scent. I remember the first time we made love in her bed. It was doubly thrilling because it was the first rule we broke and she was the one who initiated it. It's still my favorite place to make love. I thought at the time that my head was going to explode from too much happiness.** *Go to next chapter*