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TITLE:  Against The Wall (1/2)
AUTHOR:  Melody
EMAIL ADDRESS:  harmne@kans.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Okay to post or archive so long
             as my name and info remain attached.  Please send me 
             URLs of archives so I can visit!
SPOILER WARNING:  Nothing much, but it IS post-Diana Fowley.
RATING:  NC-17 for sexual content (SMUT!)
CONTENT WARNING:  M/F sex
CLASSIFICATION:  MSR SMUT
SUMMARY:  While out of town at a partnership seminar, the agents
             are asked to take a look at some strange rooms found in an
             old warehouse -- with surprising results.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Against The Wall (NC-17) by Melody
Part 1 of 2

Chicago Convention Center
9:20 PM

The partnership seminar was officially over.  Thank God.  
I couldn't remember a time when a week stretched so long.  
Mulder and I played all the games, solved all the puzzles, 
ran through all the mazes set up to test and improve our 
effectiveness as partners, and we'd blown away all the 
competition.  Pretty amazing, considering we hardly spoke 
to each other anymore.

I wandered aimlessly around the hotel room fingering the 
cheap silk scarf around my neck.  It was one of the tacky 
souvenirs designed for tourists, but it had been a 'trophy' 
presented to me tonight during the dinner for excelling at
one of the games.  Which one eluded me: I couldn't even 
remember what Mulder's trophy had been. I'd tucked the scarf 
in my pocket on the way back to our table and Mulder plucked 
it back out as we sat down, sliding it around my neck and 
tucking it under the lapels of my jacket.  His familiar 
touch, especially under the curious eyes of the rest of the 
table, had immobilized me completely, but Mulder's face had 
been expressionless.  I didn't think I could take much more 
of the distance between us.

I had just kicked off my high-heeled pumps when a knock came
at the hotel room door.  Sighing, I reluctantly stepped back
into the shoes.  The knock was from the hall door instead of
the connecting one, so it probably wasn't Mulder -- unless 
he'd locked himself out again.  Hopefully someone just had the 
wrong room.  I was really looking forward to a soak in the 
tub, even though I showered just a few hours ago.  Sitting 
through the dinner that wrapped up the weeklong seminar had 
been more exhausting than a regular case.

The door revealed a cop in uniform, though, and my hopes 
for a bath sank.

"Agent Scully?" he asked.  I nodded and motioned him into 
the room.  Since he asked for "Agent" Scully, he would 
probably need Mulder, too.  I took a few steps back, knocked 
sharply on the connecting door between our rooms and called 
Mulder's name.  When I got no answer I opened the door a 
crack.  As I'd expected, the door on the other side was wide 
open and the TV was blaring.  Before I could call again, 
though, Mulder appeared.  His hair was rumpled and he'd taken 
off his suit jacket but he hadn't had time to really get 
comfortable for the night yet, either.

The young officer looked relieved when he saw Mulder.  "Oh, 
good, Agent Mulder is here, too.  I apologize for bothering 
you, but one of our detectives at the 34th heard you were in 
town and sent me to ask a favor."  He paused, flicking an 
apologetic glance at me.  "A couple of our local politicians 
were missing for a few days, and when they turned up they 
claimed they'd been kidnapped, held in an old building, and 
subjected to torture.  We've been checking around and we've 
found a building that may match their description.  Ahmm...  
Detective Shively thought you might be able to tell us if we 
have the right one."

"The politicians can't tell you?"  I asked.

"No, ma'am."  The young officer, whose nametag read 'Kelly',
looked embarrassed. "We called, but they're both under 
doctors' care.  One is on prescribed bed rest with no 
disturbances, and the other evidently is under sedation."

"What makes Detective Shively think you've found the 
building?"  Mulder asked.  "And why does he think we can 
tell him if he's right?"

"The victims said they were held in torture chambers.  This 
building has some weird rooms..." He broke off to shrug.  
"None of us really know what a torture room would look like.  
Shively figures FBI agents might."

Mulder and I looked at each other.  "It's not even 9:30 
yet," Mulder said, "and it shouldn't take long.  You can 
stay here if you want."

"No, Mulder, I'll come, too," I said.  "Maybe some fresh 
air will do me some good."  Besides, I didn't want him 
wandering off on his own - I knew what usually happened then.

We both caught the surreptitious movement as the officer 
checked his watch, and Mulder smiled faintly.  "Is this 
running you into overtime?" he asked.

The young cop looked embarrassed.  "It took a little while 
to find you.  The desk clerk wasn't clear on which banquet 
room the dinner was in, or when it was over."

"When is the end of your shift?"

"Ten, usually.  But I don't mind staying over."

I could almost read Mulder's mind, and I was sympathetic, 
too.  The wedding band the cop wore was so obviously brand 
new even I had noticed it.  So I volunteered before Mulder 
could.  "How about if we follow you over -- then you can 
leave from there and not worry about bringing us back to 
the hotel."  The young man's smile flashed with relief.  
"Are you parked out front?"

"No, ma'am.  In the parking garage."

"We'll be down in a few minutes."

After the door closed behind Kelly, Mulder turned to me. 
"You don't have to come if you're tired, Scully.  I don't 
mind going alone."

"Trying to get rid of me?"  I regretted the words as soon 
as they were out, and made an erasing motion with my hand 
as if that would delete them.  "I'm sorry, Mulder, I know 
that's not what you meant.  I am tired, but I'm tired of 
sitting more than anything else.  Getting out a little after 
all these seminars will feel good."

"The seminar could have been worse, Scully.  They could have 
had us build pyramids out of office furniture."  He grinned 
slightly, and I knew he'd already forgiven me.  "I'll get 
my jacket and meet you in the hall."

I checked the pockets of my jacket to make sure I had my ID
and keys, made sure I had some cash, then clipped my gun to 
the waistband of my skirt.  

Mulder stepped out into the hall the same time I did, still 
in the process of pulling on his suit jacket.  I could see 
his gun on his belt but I would've bet my next paycheck he'd 
forgotten his room key again.  His hair was finger-combed.  My 
heart turned over as it still did at the most unexpected times.
I did my best to push it away, wondering for the thousandth 
time if things would ever be right between us.  We'd come so 
close...  But I'd think about that later.  Right now possible 
torture chambers awaited.  
  
==================

The trip to the building actually took about twenty minutes.
It was on the riverfront in an area where urban renewal was 
just beginning to gain a toehold.  Most of the property was 
warehouses, many of them abandoned, but some were in 
the process of being torn down or remodeled.  The 
black-and-white stopped in front of one that, except for a 
security light burning over the door, looked vacant.

"We borrowed the keys from the owner," the young officer 
said when Mulder and I met him at the door.  "He inherited 
it a few months ago from an uncle.  He told us he hasn't 
been here yet, he only got possession of the keys last week.
His story checked out." The key scraped in the lock and the 
door squeaked as he pushed it open.  Just inside the door 
was a row of light switches.  He flipped several of them on 
as we stepped in.

Half the light bulbs in the place seemed to be burned out 
or missing, but there was enough light to see the small 
piles of debris scattered about.  Empty cardboard boxes, an
old metal barrel, and various scraps of paper composed the 
closest heap.  Along the front wall was an long narrow room 
once used as an employee break room, with battered metal 
lockers still hanging from one wall and a small restroom 
in one corner.  

"The rooms I told you about are in the back of the 
warehouse," Officer Kelly said.  "I'll just show you."  

The back of the warehouse had been walled off and the 
resultant space divided into rooms separated by a narrow 
hallway.  Kelly led us to the hall and opened the first two 
doors, stepping aside so we could look in.

Mulder took a few steps into the first room, looked around 
briefly, then went on to the next room.  "Not much here," 
he observed.  That was all he said.  He inspected the third 
room without a word.  By the time he came out of the fourth 
room I knew something was going on.  Mulder was rarely this 
quiet.  Normally he kept up some kind of running banter with 
the local law.  I wanted to ask him what was going on, but
something about his manner kept me silent. I just waited 
until he'd walked through the last three rooms.

"Officer Kelly?" Mulder spoke finally, his voice echoing 
oddly from the doorway of the last small room.  "I think 
I can safely say these aren't your torture chambers.  
Either you've got the wrong building, or your victims are 
telling you a tall tale."

"What do you mean?"

"Was there evidence of torture on the victims' bodies?" 
Mulder asked.  Officer Kelly looked confused, and Mulder 
shook his head.  "Is your detective still on duty?"

"No.  He was going home when he sent me to find you.  
I'm supposed to report to him in the morning." 

"Well, tell him these aren't torture chambers.  Besides,
none of these rooms have been used in months - the dust 
on the floor inside the rooms was undisturbed. There were 
footprints only in the hall and the doorways. Tell the 
detective he's going to have to keep looking.  Scully and I 
fly home tomorrow afternoon, so if Detective Shively wants 
to talk to me he can reach me at this number."  He found one 
of his cards, wrote his cell number on the back and gave it
to the officer.

"Yes, sir." Carefully Officer Kelly stowed the card in his 
pocket.  "Do you need me for anything else, Agents?"

"I don't think so," I said, looking at Mulder for 
confirmation.  He seemed distracted, which stirred my 
curiosity even more.

"I'd like to look around a little longer, if that's okay," 
Mulder said hurriedly when he realized we were both looking 
at him.  "Will the outside door lock without the key?"

"Yes, sir, just pull it closed.  Look around all you want."  
With a smile and a sketchy salute, the newlywed officer 
took off.

I waited until I heard the door shut behind him before I 
spoke.  "Okay, Mulder, what's going on?"

He gave me one of his half-shrugs.  "I just want to look 
through the rooms again.  I won't take long."  

I accepted that, but trailed behind him as he walked through
them again. I looked a little more closely at the odd rooms, 
too.  They were little more than concrete-block cubicles, no 
windows, with small sinks in one corner.  Several rooms had 
hooks in the walls.  One had metal loops embedded in the 
concrete floor.  All the floors were covered with a fine 
layer of dust, disturbed inside the rooms by only our 
footprints.  As Mulder perused the seventh room my curiosity 
got the best of me.  He was keeping his face expressionless, 
but I could practically hear his brain humming.

"Okay, Mulder, what is it?  What are these rooms?  Are they 
torture chambers, after all?"

"Not exactly, Scully. I really think they've got the wrong 
building.  Either that, or the victims weren't actually 
victims."

"What do you mean?"

"I think this building was a sex club."

I just stared at him, too surprised to speak, trying to 
decide if he was kidding or not.  My mind flew back over the
rooms...  The first room had been bare except for a metal
straight-back chair and a hook on the plain concrete-block 
wall.  The second room had a vinyl chair shaped like a weird 
giant hand. In fact there seemed to one odd thing per room: a 
freestanding pillar of polished granite, a low narrow wooden 
table, four metal loops in a square on the floor, and a 
large empty wine barrel.  

This room, just like the others, was a small concrete-block 
room with a plain concrete floor.  A small sink was in one 
corner with a floor drain beneath it.  No windows.  On one 
wall was an odd teardrop shape made from stuffed brown 
vinyl.  Above it and on either side about three feet from 
the floor were metal hooks embedded in the wall.  No matter 
how I looked at the odd shape, I couldn't see any connection 
to sex.

"You're joking, aren't you."  He was, wasn't he?  "You've 
been watching too many of those videos that aren't yours."  
I looked over at Mulder to see if he'd admit it only to 
find him staring fixedly at the teardrop.  There was 
something odd about the way he was standing.  I glanced at 
the shape and back again just in time to see Mulder slip 
one hand into his pants pocket in an attempt to hide his 
growing erection.  He was aroused!

"No, I'm not joking.  C'mon, let's get back to the hotel.  
Hopefully that kid didn't accidentally lock us in."

Not yet!  I wanted to know why that ugly vinyl shape 
turned him on.  Stubbornly, I didn't move.
  
"Not yet, Mulder.  Why do you think this was a sex club?  
I don't see the connection."

"Scully, you don't want to know."  His tone was wry and 
he wouldn't look at me.

"Yes I do," I insisted.

He hesitated so long I was beginning to think he wasn't 
going to answer.  Finally he took a deep breath. "These 
are bondage rooms," he said.  His voice held an odd tone 
that told me he was uncomfortable talking about this with 
me. He glanced sideways at me as if to see if his answer 
would end the conversation.  It had only given me more 
questions, but before I could voice them he asked,

"Did you ever watch that show 'Red Shoe Diaries'?"  I nodded, 
and he continued.  "There was one episode about a female cop.  
She spent a lot of time trying to get this man to notice her, 
but he never did.  It made her angry.  So she 'arrested' him, 
took him to this place, handcuffed him to a chair and ...
had her way with him.  Get it?"

Mulder had turned to me as he finished. Oh, yes, I remembered 
that episode well - it was one of my favorites. I felt my 
face heat and knew his watchful eyes wouldn't miss the 
telltale flush.  Something flickered across his face before
he dropped his eyes and turned away.

Was that longing I saw in his eyes?  Or was I reading into 
it what I was hoping to see?  I swore to myself I wouldn't 
let another opportunity pass, but I wanted more than that 
glimpse of emotion to go on.  I wet suddenly dry lips and 
took a steadying breath.

"Okay, I get the picture.  And even I can figure out the 
table.  But what about the room with the granite pillar?"

Mulder rocked back on his heels and looked at the ceiling, 
and I knew it had surprised and rattled him that I was 
even asking.  Sex was something we NEVER talked about. 
Ever.  His answer was succinct. 

"Tie the person to the pillar and they're at your mercy.  
Pretty much the same thing with the table and the rings 
in the floor of the fifth room, too."  Even as he spoke 
I watched him slide his other hand into his pocket.  He 
was definitely aroused.  But why?  Was just talking about 
sex and bondage doing it?  Did I dare believe it had 
anything to do with me?  I needed to get him to face me.

"How about the wine barrel?"  As I had hoped, this 
question got him to turn, and he eyed me with something 
akin to wariness.  

"Lie across one on your belly and you're helpless.  Even 
more so on your back.  And the barrel can be rocked..." 
he caught himself and shut up before he said any more.  
He wouldn't quite meet my eyes.

It wasn't just the rooms or my imagination.  My being here 
with him, talking about sex and bondage, was getting Mulder 
hot.  How far could I go with this?  Far enough to break 
down the barrier that had grown between us since Diana had 
reappeared in his life?  I had to try.

"And this thing?" I pushed, pointing to the teardrop 
attached to the wall. I could hear my heart hammering at 
nearly twice it's normal rate and wondered if Mulder 
could hear it, too.

"Uhh... It's for pushing against."  Mulder's reply was 
vague.  Color was creeping across his cheekbones, and even 
with both his hands in his pockets I could still see his 
erection.  He was very, very aroused... and I was getting 
there fast.  Bondage was not what I would have chosen 
for our first sexual experience, but I'd take Mulder any way
I could get him. If I didn't do something drastic soon I 
might lose him anyway.  If it took bondage to bridge the void 
between us...so be it.

Feeling reckless, I said, "I don't get it. Can you ...show 
me?" My voice came out husky and Mulder turned to me 
sharply.  For several minutes he stood there, staring at 
me.  I tried to let him see what I was feeling, with my 
eyes, my face, my body language.  His eyes went dark and 
I found it suddenly hard to breathe. 

"You want me to *show* you?" he asked finally. 



                   **end part 1/2**

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Against The Wall (NC-17) by Melody
Part 2 of 2



"You want me to *show* you?" he asked finally. 

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.  He stepped closer 
and looked down into my face.  "How far do you want me 
to go, showing you?"

I met his eyes and fought to steady my panicky pulse.  
This was my chance, maybe my last chance. If I could show 
him what he means to me this way...  I prayed, swearing 
to myself and God that I wouldn't waste this opportunity, 
that I'd tell Mulder how I felt and exactly what he meant 
to me before this night was out. So many times I'd tried, 
but something had always stopped me, some ill-timed 
interruption or plain cowardice on my part. Bondage... 
it was the ultimate trust.  There was no one I trusted 
more than Mulder.  Would he understand?

I had to take the risk.

"As far as you want to," I answered huskily, nervously 
wetting my lips again.  "All the way."

For another long minute he stood there looking at me 
as if to decide whether or not I was serious.  When he 
turned and walked away my heart fell, but he only closed 
the door and threw the bolt.  It blocked out most of the 
light in the room, leaving only what came from the dim 
bulb in the ceiling fixture.

Mulder shrugged out of his suit jacket as he slowly walked 
back towards me.  He dropped it on the floor and stopped 
only one step away from me.  My eyes followed his movements 
as he very deliberately unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves 
and rolled them twice.  Then he put his hands on his hips 
and asked one more time, 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

My eyes flicked to the bulge in his pants he was now 
making no effort to hide, then back to his face.  His 
face was mostly in shadow now, but his eyes still gleamed.
The intensity I saw and felt directed at me was a little 
frightening.  "Yes," I whispered, "I'm sure."

Mesmerized, I watched him reach for his tie and pull it 
loose.  "Take off your jacket," he ordered.  I obeyed almost 
without thinking, sliding it off my shoulders then holding 
it uncertainly.  He took it and dropped it atop his.  
He stepped closer and pulled the holster from my waistband,
tossed it onto the jackets, then did the same with his own 
gun.  Then he pulled handcuffs from the clip on his belt.

"Give me your hands."

My breath caught, but I held my hands out.  Mulder was 
my partner.  He would never hurt me. The cuffs closed 
around my wrists just snugly enough that I couldn't pull 
them off.  One of Mulder's thumbs caressed the tender 
skin above my wrist almost absently.  

"Don't pull on these, Scully, or you'll tear up your 
wrists."

"Okay." It came out in a whisper, barely audible.

His hands were warm on my shoulders through my silk blouse 
as he guided me back a step, then he took my bound hands and 
raised them over my head.  A faint grin touched his mouth 
and he looked down at me.

"Must be fate, Scully.  You're too short for this hook."

Was I going to let anything stop us now?  "I'll pretend," 
I promised, and pressed my hands against the cold concrete 
block wall above my head.  "I won't move."

Something hot and dangerous flared in Mulder's eyes.  
Slowly, deliberately, he ran his hands down the length of 
my arms and across my collarbones until he could cup my 
chin in his palms.

"Be very sure, Scully," he warned, his voice rough, his 
breathing fast and shallow.  I nodded my head.  "If you 
want me to stop you'll have to tell me."  I nodded again, 
then his head lowered and his mouth took mine in a searing 
kiss.  When his tongue surged into my mouth my heart 
rocketed briefly against my ribs then settled to a slow 
pounding, but as soon as I started kissing him back Mulder 
pulled away.

He tugged off my scarf as he stepped back, then pulled off 
his tie.  Kneeling at my feet he tied them around my legs 
just above my knees.  He wasn't tying my legs together... 
I couldn't see what he was doing, and couldn't guess.  
Mulder's hands on my legs made me tremble deep inside.  
Dampness began to gather between my legs.

He stood, finally, and reached for my blouse, slowly 
pulling it out of my waistband and undoing the buttons 
from the bottom up.  When he reached the top he spread it 
wide, exposing the creamy satin bra that exposed far too 
much pale skin.  For a moment he just looked, taking in 
the rapid rise and fall of my breasts with my breathing, 
watching the pulse flutter in the base of my neck.  At 
last he touched me.

Long, hard fingers slipped across my ribcage, then up to 
stroke the undersides of my breasts through the satin.  
They traced the lines of the bra, brushed over rigid 
nipples and continued up the straps to my neck, leaving 
my breasts aching in anticipation.

His hands cupped my face and his head bent.  He kissed me 
then, gently, cradling my head in his hands.  A light kiss, 
then another, barely playing with my lips.  Each kiss that 
followed was different from the first, a different angle, 
harder, softer, deeper, but with each one he built the 
intensity slowly.  His hands moved, slipping down to stroke 
my breasts lightly through the satin.  Each touch was 
torture, never lingering where I wanted his touch, not 
quite enough...  I felt the clasp between my breasts give 
beneath the clever fingers.  Then, finally, Mulder touched my
breasts.

Strong hands kneaded my soft flesh; long fingers found the 
pebbled nipples.  He rolled them, catching them between 
finger and thumb, plucking and twisting until I moaned deep 
in my throat.  He stepped into me, deliberately putting 
his feet between mine, using his weight to press me back 
against the wall.  I felt the vinyl against my back and hips, 
felt his erection hard against my belly.  My legs felt weak, 
and the flesh between my legs began to ache.

Mulder's head bent to my breasts and my eyes closed as 
his mouth found a nipple.  He suckled hard, flicking with 
his tongue and scraping the tender tip with his teeth.  I 
barely noticed when his hands dropped to my hips and began 
easing my skirt up.  Only when he trailed his mouth back up 
my throat did I notice my skirt was bunched around my waist.
My lower body was covered only by the sheer lace-top pantyhose
I'd worn beneath the clingy dress suit.  

Mulder's hands curved around the back of my thighs, lifting 
me high against him with unconscious ease.  He rocked against 
me, his hard length pressing into the notch between my legs, 
finding just the right angle.  My breath hitched and my arms 
somehow found their way around Mulder's neck.  My hips 
bucked against him and Mulder groaned.  Then his hands were 
behind my knees, urging them up, spreading my legs wide, 
wider... He ground himself into me until I moaned aloud, until 
my hands fisted tightly in his hair.  He pulled my fingers 
loose and pushed my hands up, up, back against the wall.  Then 
he stepped back, breathing hard, and I realized I was bound.

The ties around my knees had been slipped over the hooks 
on the wall, and hook above me held my cuffed hands high 
over my head.  I was hanging spread-eagle against the 
wall with my legs bearing most of my weight.  The stuffed 
teardrop thrust my pelvis toward Mulder, leaving me exposed 
and very, very vulnerable. Understanding of the shape came, 
finally, and all the breath left my body.

I had never felt so helpless, so completely without 
control.  Panic stirred and I began to tremble, my breath 
came in shallow gasps and for a moment I felt faint.  
Then my eyes met my partner's, and the fear faded.  This 
was Mulder.  I trusted him as I could never trust another.  
Mulder would never hurt me.

He stood just out of reach, his eyes on my face, watching,
waiting.  Color stained his cheekbones, the fabric of his 
pants strained at the zipper, and his chest heaved as he 
fought for control.  His eyes were wild, but I knew I could 
end this here with only a word.  

I made no sound.

Slowly his hands came up and started on the buttons of his 
shirt.  His eyes never left mine.  The message in them was 
clear. He was going to take me. Unless I stopped him. Did 
I want to?

God, no.  I wanted him.

The shirt hit the floor.  His chest gleamed in the dim light, 
sheened with sweat.  His hands dropped to his belt, the long 
agile fingers pulling at the leather, manipulating the buckle.  
I could hear my own harsh breathing, and my belly, my breasts,
were beginning to ache.  The flesh between my legs ached and 
throbbed with heat.  His buckle slipped free, the zipper 
eased down...

He stepped forward, his mouth fusing with mine.  His weight 
pushed me into the padded vinyl, the ridge of his erection 
hard against me.  I moaned, kissing him back desperately, 
trying to suck his tongue deeper into my mouth, stroking it 
urgently.  Unconsciously I tried to pull my hands free, 
wanting to touch him, pull him tighter against me.  He broke 
the kiss, breathing raggedly.

"Be still!  Be still or you'll hurt yourself," he groaned 
against my lips, and I subsided.  I felt his hands slip 
between our bodies, felt and heard my pantyhose tear, then 
there were no more barriers and his fingers were on me, 
pressing into my wetness, sliding deep inside.  I cried 
out in pleasure.

He kissed me again as his fingers worked, finding and 
stroking all my secret places.  His mouth trailed down 
across my face to my neck, pausing to taste and nip the 
skin above my pounding pulse.  When he found my breasts 
again, I was writhing, gasping his name.  

Begging.

"Yes, Scully," Mulder rasped.  "For me.  Come for me."  
The heel of his hand pressed, his fingers curled, and I 
shattered.

I groaned as his fingers left me, then his clothes were 
gone and his erection nudged into me, hot and hard.  He 
pushed in slowly but steadily, panting as if fighting 
the urge to thrust deep. I was wet and ready, but I was 
still small.  Mulder most definitely was not.  It was 
going to be a tight fit... I writhed, gasping at the 
pressure.  He paused, withdrew slightly, then pushed in 
again.  Rocked back.  In again, then back, then in, each 
thrust going a little deeper, a little faster.

I was moaning and chanting Mulder's name in mindless 
pleasure when finally he thrust in all the way to the 
hilt.  He stopped, sweat-slicked chest heaving, his full 
hard length buried deep inside me. His hands dug into my 
hips, trying to pull me tighter against him even as his 
body pinned mine tightly to the wall.  His breathing was 
ragged as he pressed his face into my hair.

For a time that was enough. He was inside me, hot and 
huge. His heart was racing. So was mine.

A few deep breaths later he began to move again.  
Thrusting shallowly at first, slowly, barely moving... 
then deeper and deeper, until finally he was withdrawing 
almost completely before burying himself in me again.  
His hands cupped my breasts as his pace quickened, long 
hard strokes that pounded me against the vinyl.  The 
force of each drive shoved me up the teardrop only to 
slide back down as he withdrew.  I chanted incoherently
between gasping breaths, shuddered as waves of pleasure 
crashed over me, screamed helplessly as I climaxed. 
Mulder didn't stop, didn't even slow down.  Over and 
over I cried out as orgasms shook my body before at last 
he went rigid, spewing heat deep inside me in a 
wrenching release that tore a hoarse cry from his throat.  

He leaned heavily against me and we both gasped for breath.  
Gradually I became aware of trembling, but whether it came 
from me or Mulder, I couldn't tell.  Possibly both of us.

Gradually our lungs caught up.  Mulder straightened and 
his hands came up to frame my face.  His fingers trembled 
against my cheeks.

"God, Scully," he breathed, then he kissed me oh-so-tenderly.  
His hands traced up my arms and lifted my wrists free of 
the hook.  I managed to get my arms around his neck, burying 
my fingers in his hair as he stroked back down my body to 
free my legs.

My legs had no feeling and they dangled like a broken 
marionette's.  Mulder was all that held me up.  He cradled 
me against him, his hands caressing, making no move to 
complete his withdrawal from me.

I don't know how long we stood there like that.  Long enough 
for my legs to wake up.

I bit back a moan when Mulder finally withdrew from me and 
stood me back on my feet.  I felt somehow bereft.  Fumbling 
for his keys, he unlocked the handcuffs and slipped them off 
my wrists.  His fingers rubbed gently at the marks left by 
the bracelets, and I knew there would be bruises there in 
the morning. I didn't care, but Mulder must have.  He bent 
his head and kissed the reddened skin in wordless apology. 

My shoulders shrieked in protest when I tried to reach out 
to him.  I don't think I made a sound, but Mulder saw I was 
in pain.  His hands found the muscles knotted and aching 
from being bound above my head and kneaded the pain away.  
I let myself lean against him, and finally found my voice.

"Okay," I croaked in a voice hoarse from screaming.  "I 
think I get it now."

Mulder had gone still at the first sound of my voice, but 
a second later my words sank in and he began to laugh.  A 
real laugh.  Well, I finally managed to shock the hell out 
of my partner.  Not to mention myself as well.

Shared laughter broke the tension, and what could have been 
awkward suddenly wasn't.  Mulder leaned back to look down 
at my face, his own relaxed and happy for the first time 
in recent memory.  No shadows lurked in his eyes and his 
smile was tender.

"Scully," he said, running a finger down my cheek, "I 
worry sometimes that you're too damn perfect to be real.  
I live in fear that someday I'll wake up and find you were
just a dream."

"If you're dreaming, so am I," I said softly.  "Besides, 
you - better than anyone else on earth - know I'm far 
from perfect."

Mulder was still smiling though his eyes had gone serious. 
"You are to me."

He almost made me cry.  Tears welled but I blinked them 
back.  He understood and stepped back a little, chuckling 
a bit when he looked down at our bodies.

"I'm extremely glad there aren't any cameras in here," 
he joked.  His pants and boxers were crumpled around his 
ankles, his socks and shoes still on.  My blouse and bra 
hung open from my shoulders, and my skirt was rucked up 
around my waist.  My pantyhose were ripped and sticking damply 
to my thighs.  My shoes were on the floor beneath the shape 
on the wall. Mulder chuckled again at the look on my face, 
then bent and pulled his boxers and pants up.  He zipped 
his pants then fished in his back pocket and offered me his 
handkerchief, motioning vaguely in the direction of the sink.  
I took it, took a few steps toward the sink and stopped, 
distracted by the feel of Mulder's tie and my scarf still 
tied around my knees.  Before I could move Mulder was there, 
untying the knots and removing them, and I went on to 
the sink.

I was glad there was no mirror.  I ran cool water over the 
square of cotton and rinsed the sweat from my face and 
chest, then fastened the clasp on my bra. Stripping off 
the ruined pantyhose was a relief.  I washed as well as 
I was able then pulled my wrinkled skirt down, smoothing 
it over my bare bottom and legs.  It felt strange and 
somehow naughty to be naked underneath.  I was smiling 
to myself as I tugged my blouse into place and started 
on the buttons.

Mulder was watching me when I turned around.  He'd pulled 
on his shirt and partially buttoned it, and had his gun 
clipped back on his belt.  My holstered gun was in his 
hands.

"I don't know if I should give this back to you.  When 
you see the back of your blouse you're gonna want to 
shoot me again."  His eyes flicked to the teardrop and 
back and he shrugged helplessly.  "The floor wasn't the
only thing covered in dust."

"I won't shoot you again," I promised as I took my gun 
and tucked it back where it belonged. "If it was only 
dust, it'll come out.  And if it doesn't I don't care."

He picked up our jackets, brushing at them, too, before 
holding mine out to me.  The awkwardness was creeping 
back.

"I guess we'd better get back to the hotel," he said.

I wasn't ready for this to be over - not yet.  Not until 
I was sure Mulder wouldn't retreat back behind that wall.  
Not until I knew if this had been a step forward, or a 
step apart.

"Umm, Mulder," I said before I lost my momentary courage.  
I looked up into his face, acutely aware of the nakedness 
beneath my skirt.  "Maybe we should check those other 
rooms before we leave."

"What?"  Mulder stared at me.  I don't see how I could 
have surprised him, not after what we'd just done, but the 
look on his face started out as shock.  Then the shock 
faded and he looked aroused and confused, as if he couldn't
decide whether to laugh, run, or take me up on it.  

Arousal won.  His eyes heated again, and that look combined
with the feeling of being half dressed, aroused me 
incredibly - even though only minutes earlier I'd thought
myself completely sated.  

Yes, the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.  
Maybe it was an odd time and place, but the ice between us 
was well and truly broken now and I wanted it to stay that 
way.  Finally I had the chance to make sure he knew exactly 
how I felt about him.  There would be no interruptions 
here.

Besides, my curiosity was up.  I wanted to try another of 
the rooms... maybe with Mulder at *my* mercy this time...


             **end "Against The Wall"**

**Author's note:  Okay, you KNOW there'll be more of these...! 
Comments, questions, begging, and bribes eagerly awaited at
harmne@kans.com!)

This story is dedicated to Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Ten for all their
help and support.  They never complain when I bounce ideas off them!
And they are always there for me with encouraging words!  Thanks,
Ladies!!
     
Posted Nov. 4, 1999.