Mindful

By Beatrice

Category: V, MSR
Rating: NC-17 (just barely) for rather generic smut
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: The X-Files and all ancillary materials
pertaining thereto belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, 20th
Century Fox, and whoever owns them. No copyright infringement is
intended and no profit is being made.
Archive: I'd like to keep this on a friend's site. If anyone is
interested, and would like to link to it, let me know.

Summary: Why paying attention can pay off.
Timeline: Not that critical, but in my mind this would take place
after the movie, but before The Beginning.
Spoilers: Oh, please.

Thanks: To haphazard method and Dasha K. for genial beta services,
general hand holding, and generous encouragement before, during, and
after the writing. Thanks also to marguerite, for any number of
reasons .

Author's notes: This is for plausible deniability and Dasha K., for
support and for a little push, every now and then -- and for setting
such a fine example


***

It started with a slow, seductive rhythm.

Eyes closed, Scully let the music in, and let the morning go -- a
morning filled with tying up loose ends in triplicate. She rolled her
head from side to side, working the kinks out of her neck and
shoulders. The tension in her jaw, across her forehead, and around her
eyes began to dissolve.

Walking to each window in turn, she closed the blinds until the light
in the living room acquired a soothing underwater quality. As she
moved back to the center of the room, she stretched her arms above her
head, first one, then the other, reaching toward the ceiling. Slowly
lowering her hands to the floor, she felt tendons lengthen, and tight
muscles resist, then relax. For the next half hour, she let the music
carry her swiftly through her workout. She had always felt a certain
confidence in her physical ability, but over the last two weeks, she
had reveled in it.

At the end of her routine, she carefully cooled down, noting with
satisfaction the increase in flexibility as she stretched. That might
come in handy later, she thought, then felt her cheeks burn at a
sudden vision of just how handy that might be. Walking back to the CD
player, her body moved with a freedom it never enjoyed under her
conservative suits. She started the recording from the beginning, and
closed her eyes again, letting the sound transport her from a weekend
afternoon in staid Georgetown to a sultry tropical night spot -- one
where the dance floor and the dancers were equally polished.

As the sultry beat pulsed through the apartment, her hips moved side
to side, forward and back, slowly at first, then in time to the music.
For anyone else, the motion would be a subtle shimmy, but for those
who knew her, it would be a revelation. Who would guess, she thought
with a secret smile, that uptight, upright, terminally white Scully
could move like this?

Caught up in the music, and her rediscovered sense of rhythm, she
added some simple steps, ignoring the crash of the front door and the
squeak of running shoes in the front hall. The sounds came to an
abrupt halt, and she visualized the owner of the shoes assessing her
motion.

Hearing a slow approach, anticipation prickled up her spine and kicked
her heart rate up a gear. She grabbed the strong hand that had settled
on her hip and pulled it up around her shoulders, cloaking herself in
the damp warmth and clean earthy scent of just-back-from-a-run Mulder.
Eyes closed and hips swaying, she moved backward into his embrace.

"Shall we dance?" she said.

His raspy voice breathed in her ear, "I thought getting to know you
came first."

"Isn't that what we've been doing?" she asked, as he moved his hand
across her chest, where the tank tee stuck slightly to her skin.

She couldn't be sure, but thought she felt the first hint of movement
as he began to pick up on her rhythm. She let out a small huff of
surprise as his other hand reached around and settled on her abdomen,
pulling her against him. No doubt about it. Mulder was moving.

Her smile threatened to burst into an unScully-like giggle. "Are we
going to open up an X-File on that thing in your pocket, or are you
just happy to see me?"

"Nothing paranormal about this Scully," he said.

"But you've made me believe, Mulder."

"Until recently, I never thought I could make you believe anything,"
he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

"Maybe you never presented such good evidence before."

He rubbed his cheek against her hair. "If you turn around, I'll show
you some more."

She started circling her hips, moving closer to him with each
revolution. "Can't you show me in this position?"

She felt his chest shaking with silent laughter. "Any way, any time,
Scully. I just work better face to face."

"Oh, I don't know about that." She tilted her head as she felt his
lips on the side of her neck, followed shortly by his teeth, nipping
gently.

"Turn around, Scully," he whispered, sending shivers down her arms.

She avoided his intense gaze as she pivoted, and nestled her face in
the convenient hollow created by his bent head and solid shoulder. She
kissed his neck, then caressed the soft area below his ear with her
tongue, reveling in his salty-sweet taste.

A soft moan signaled his approval, as did the action of his hands,
sliding over her back and settling as low as they could reach, pulling
her to him once again.

She started to move her feet, swaying her hips in time to the music.
The demand in her voice echoed his. "Dance with me, Mulder."

He surprised her by pulling back and assuming a formal dance pose,
right hand decorously at her waist, left hand extended. "Whatever you
say, Scully." The teasing light in his eyes contradicted his docile
tone.

She hooked the waistband of his running shorts and pulled him back to
her. He stumbled a bit, then looked down at her, still smiling as his
hip nudged her belly. "Whatever you want, Scully."

She frowned up at him. "For starters," she said, "take off the shoes.
You're too damned tall."

"Is that all I get to take off?" he inquired politely, toeing off his
shoes and socks.

"No, but it's a start," she replied absently, still working on her
logistics problem. Removing his shoes had the beneficial effect of
lowering his pelvis closer to hers -- though not close enough to make
this as interesting a dance as it could be. She gave a frustrated
wiggle in counterpoint to the music, sighed, and started to rise up on
her toes, thinking that this was going to turn out to be an ungainly
version of "Swan Lake", salsa-style.

He laughed softly. With a quick series of motions, he bent down and
pulled off her own shoes and socks, then lifted her, carefully placing
her feet on top of his. His hands moved down again, and he began to
move in time to the music.

She liked the way the firm pressure in front and behind put them in
synch. She liked it a lot.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mmm," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck, ruffling his
damp, razor cut hair. "Even if I can't do much actual dancing this
way."

"Well, we could always try dancing another way. Horizontal isn't
nearly as challenging as vertical."

"Ah, but can you do it in time to the music?"

"If you can still hear the music, then I'm not doing it right."

"You haven't heard me complaining, have you?"

"I haven't heard much of anything, Scully. I've been preoccupied."

"Well, I think you've been paying attention pretty well."

"To tell you the truth...." He bit his lip, then dipped his head and
started nuzzling her neck again. "You know, when you have clothes on,
this is one of my favorite spots."

"Thank you, Mulder," she said. "Now tell me what you were going to say
first."

She felt him pause, then heard a muffled, "No."

"No?" She laughed, and tugged his hair to give gentle emphasis to her
words. "What about our agreement, Mulder? What about telling the
truth?"

He pulled back. She got so much more than she'd bargained for in his
gaze, she was tempted to push his head back down. "Will you tell me
the truth, Scully?"

"What truth is that?" She was suddenly conscious of how trapped she
was, surrounded by his big body, pinned in place by his eyes as much
as his hands.

"Tell me what you like."

"What?"

His voice dropped to a low, seductive register. "Tell me what gives
you pleasure."

"Mulder...." She closed her eyes, then leaned up to whisper in his
ear, "I like to dance, Mulder." She started rocking her hips against
him. "Let's dance."

"Scully...." He kissed her cheek, nudging until she moved her head
enough to give him access to her mouth. He kissed her softly.
"Scully...." He interspersed his kisses with tiny flicks of his tongue
along her bottom lip, finally taking advantage of her gasp for breath
to slide inside, slide his tongue along hers, to twist and finally
pull her tongue into his mouth. He sucked gently, making a soft
growling noise before releasing her mouth and repeating, "Scully...
Tell me."

"W-What?" Proud that she had the presence of mind to keep her hips
moving, proud that she was maintaining a slight measure of control,
she was also honest enough to admit that she was losing that control
fast. How simple it was for six years of discipline to go right out
the window after a two week taste of bliss. One kiss, she thought. I
am so easy.

Mulder's hand tightened, pressing her into even more intimate contact,
stopping her motion. The thin material of their workout clothes left
little doubt as to the state of his arousal. "This has been... a great
couple of weeks, Scully," he said.

"I've enjoyed it," she said softly.

"Have you?"

She pulled back. "Of course, Mulder." At his quizzical expression, she
decided some emphasis was in order. "God, yes, Mulder. Don't you know
that?"

His color, already high from running, intensified. "It's not that
simple," he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

"Mulder -- this has been.... Mulder, I'm very...." She felt her own
color rise. Why was this so difficult to say? "Everything's been A-
OK," she said, firmly.

They were pressed together so tightly she felt his laugh before she
heard it. "A-OK?"

"Would you rather I told you everything is fine? That I'm fine?"

He rolled his eyes, then bent to capture her mouth again, tilting her
head back with the force of the kiss. Her eyes drifted shut as he
tickled the sensitive skin just behind her lips with the rapid motion
of his sinfully talented tongue. His hands began to creep up under her
tight shirt, tracing abstract patterns. "Scully?" he queried.

Eyes still closed, she ran her tongue over her lips, savoring the
tingling feeling the kiss had left behind. "Mulder," she affirmed.

That got her another sweet-tasting kiss. He broke free long enough to
pull her shirt off, and the heat of the next deep, lush kiss
counteracted the cool air brushing over the sensitized skin of her
breasts. She was floating, all that was left of conscious thought
concentrated on the nerve endings in her lips and tongue.

She stepped back, awkwardly regaining her footing. She heard him tear
his own shirt off, and blinked her vision clear to the enjoyable sight
of half-naked Mulder, damp skin glowing in the muted light. "I like
the way you think, Mulder," she said, taking his shirt from his loose
grasp, and picking her own off the floor. She used them to rub his
chest and belly, noting how his breathing quickened as she set to
work. "I always have. Did I ever tell you that?"

Getting no answer, least of all the playful rebuke she was expecting,
she looked up and found Mulder's eyes fixed on her chest, sweeping
over her torso with the same motions she was using on him. She felt
blood rush to her cheeks, and rubbed harder. Apparently, the longest
pre-sex conversation they'd ever had was over, and she supposed she
should feel a little sorry for that. Until now, these interludes had
been quite... hurried, moving in headlong dash of passion from
preliminaries to shattering conclusion.

"Turn around," she said, pushing on his shoulder. He lifted his gaze
and gave her a speculative look, then turned slowly. She rubbed the
shirts over his back, then dropped them to the floor. She repeated the
motion with her palms, enjoying the feel of strong muscle covered by
soft skin. Just like.... She blushed harder, definitely not sorry,
just impatient to move this into the bedroom.

She gave him a small push. "Get going, Mulder."

He turned back to her. "First tell me," he said, reaching out to cup
her breasts and run his thumbs over her nipples. "What do you want me
to do for you once we're in there?" His intense gaze was unnerving.
"What do you want to do, Scully?"

She bowed her head. Pre-sex conversations were fine. She wasn't sure
they were ready for pre-sex confessions. Putting her hands up to cover
his, she stopped the motion. "Why can't we just do what we've been
doing, Mulder?" she whispered. "These past two weeks have been the
best of my life. Why do we have to analyze everything to death?"

"These past two weeks I've been out of my mind, Scully. Mindless. Is
that what you want? Mindless fucking?"

That snapped her head up. "Don't knock it Mulder. There's a lot to be
said for mindless fucking if the amount of pleasure I've been feeling
and the amount of forgetting I've been able to do is any indication."

"Scully," he said, moving his hands around to her back and pulling her
unbending body into an embrace. "I want to do this so you know it's
me. So you know it's us. I want it to be mindful."

The last sentence he spoke so close to her lips that each syllable was
a kiss in its own right. He punctuated his request with a different
sort of kiss, driving his tongue deep, pulling back and repeating the
motion until she found the wherewithal to duel him to a draw.

They finally separated, gasping for breath. Mindful, she thought.
Attentive and aware. "I guess we can try," she said, staring fixedly
at his chest.

"Really?" There was no mistaking the smile in his voice. He brushed
the backs of his hands over her hot cheeks.

She gave him a level look. "You should remember to be careful what you
wish for, Mulder."

He returned her gaze, undaunted. "I've had pretty good luck so far."

Good luck to both of us, she thought.

"Let's stay in here," he said, surprising her by heading for one of
the living room armchairs. "I want to see you."

He sat, then pulled her toward him, restraining her with one hand on
her hip and a soft "Wait, wait," when she moved to sit in his lap. She
acquiesced, and stood between his splayed legs, balancing with her
hands on his shoulders. Her breasts were at the level of his mouth.
Mindful, she thought. Right.

Knowing her assigned role in this experiment didn't prevent her from
feeling self-conscious and on display, which made her resist slightly
when he gently pulled her head down. He kissed her again, starting on
her lips, then moving across her cheek, up to her ear, where he
whispered, "You're beautiful, Scully."

At her immediate response -- an unladylike snort -- he pulled back and
gave her a thoughtful look. He looped one finger in the gold chain
around her neck and slid the dangling cross back and forth. "Have I
ever told you how much I like the way you dress?"

"I think the only time you ever mentioned my wardrobe was when you
told me not to forget to pack my cowboy boots," she retorted.

"That's a great part of my day, Scully," he said. "The first time I
see you, and get to check you out." He grinned up at her. "Bet you
never caught me, either."

"You think I'd let you know if I had, Mulder? You might have stopped."

He laughed, then dropped the chain and ran the palms of his big hands
down the sides of her breasts, then gently over her nipples. "But...."
He paused as if weighing a momentous decision, then hooked his fingers
around the waistband of her shorts and slid them and her panties down
her legs, steadying her as she stepped out of them. "This is my
favorite outfit, I think."

"This old thing?" she said, shutting her eyes in embarrassment the
minute the words were out of her mouth. "There's a lot of wear and
tear, Mulder." She pulled her hands from his shoulders.

He caught her arms, then pulled one hand to his mouth where he kissed
the palm, tickling the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue. "Oh,
yeah, this is the one." His lips tickled, too. "I like all the
accessories." He lifted his head and smiled at her. "Is that the right
word?"

"Which accessories did you have in mind?" she asked, wishing she could
at least cross her arms, even while allowing him to place her hands
back on his shoulders.

He cocked his head to one side, as if assessing his choices. "I like
the smile," he said, reaching up to kiss her lips. "Come on, Scully,"
he murmured. "Smile."

She made a shaky effort, and was rewarded with a longer kiss, one that
induced a real smile when his lips finally left hers.

"I love this," he said. He kissed the cross resting in the hollow of
her throat. "For a whole hell of a lot of reasons," he muttered, so
quietly she had to strain to hear.

"And this is good," he continued, pulling her closer and rubbing his
nose along her breastbone, finally nestling his face between her
breasts. "Perfume."

"I'm not wearing any perfume, Mulder," she said, stroking his hair.

"Exactly."

He moved his head to the side, stringing tiny kisses across one breast
until he reached the nipple, using first his tongue, then his lips.
Her nipples were already erect, but the one on which he lavished his
attention responded extravagantly, almost painfully. He sucked the
lengthening nub, making a low contented hum in the back of his throat.
The vibration added to her pleasure, so much so, that she uttered a
sharp sound of complaint when he released the nipple and looked up at
her, licking his lips.

"Of course," he said, "if you wanted to add cowboy boots, I wouldn't
complain."

"Yee-Ha," she said, choking on a laugh at the vision, though noticing
his words and actions were having as much of a positive effect on him
as they were on her.

"This isn't going to be very much fun if you keep your pants on,
Mulder," she said, running her hand along the waistband of his shorts.

"Just wait," he said, grabbing her hand. "I've still got a few more
accessories." He put her hand back up on his shoulder, and grinned up
at her. "Hang on, Scully."

He drew her close again, and kissed her other breast, using his teeth
gently this time, then sucking softly.

He sat back abruptly, breathing hard. "Now they match."

Accessories should always match, Dana, she thought wildly, in her
mother's voice, then gasped and gave up thinking altogether as his
hand settled between her legs.

"Favorite," he muttered. "Favorite accessory." She spared one glance
at his intent expression, then looked down to see his hand stroke the
patch of hair at the top of her thighs. She closed her eyes as his
fingers slid past her clitoris and traced each fold they encountered
in turn. He drew his fingers forward, then began circling gently,
maddeningly, at the periphery of where she wanted them most.

Her knees, already wobbly from his attention to her breasts,
threatened to give out completely. "Mulder," she whispered. "Let me
lie down. Lay down. Whatever."

He strengthened his hold on her waist, making her even more conscious
that at that moment, his hand was her only secure support. He began to
draw her forward, then surprised her by standing up and pulling her
with him, so that her legs straddled him. His favorite accessory was
now pressed intimately against hers. Well, this is okay, she thought.
He started to walk. Very okay, she amended.

"Finished with the inventory so soon, Mulder?" she asked, not all that
sorry that preliminaries were over.

"This chair won't work," he said, sounding preoccupied.

She looked up and realized that he was headed, not to the bedroom, but
to the other end of the living room. "Where are you going?" she said,
then, "No, Mulder!" as he sat on a small, armless Victorian chair.

"Perfect," he said, settling himself, then arranging her with her
bottom resting midway down his long thighs, her legs spread and her
feet flat on the seat behind him.

She had to hold on to his shoulders to keep from falling backward, but
her vulnerable position didn't keep her from protesting, "Mulder, this
is my grandmother's chair!"

"Yeah?" he said, pulling her forward enough to kiss her again.

"Mulder, this is..." She gave up. "Are we going to christen all the
furniture in the apartment?" she asked, trying not to sound too
hopeful.

"From what I've learned lately about sex and the women in your family,
Scully, I bet your grandmother christened this chair first."

She choked on another laugh, as his hand slid back between her legs.
"Mulder, if you think talking dirty about my grandmother is going to
turn me on..."

"You seem pretty turned on already, Scully." He was gazing intently at
his hand, each stroke gliding easier than the one before.

"How long have you been this wet?" he asked, in a tone of almost
professional curiosity, as if asking, 'How long has he been dead?'

"Since... ohhh..." She rubbed up against him as a series of moments
from their partnership flashed through her mind, moments that had a
sexual meaning for her in a way that might shock him. Deciding to take
his question to mean 'How long today?' she murmured "Since you kissed
me."

"So I guess you like kissing me."

"I like doing a lot of things with you, Mulder."

"It's not always this easy to tell," he said.

Now they were back to this. "You're a pretty observant man, Mulder. I
thought you might have realized by now that I was enjoying this."

"That's what this is about, Scully" he said, stopping his pleasurable
exploration. "How am I supposed to know if you're enjoying what we're
doing as much as I am?"

"Because I didn't kick you out after the first time?"

His grin was accompanied by a cocked eyebrow that would have done her
proud. "Maybe you were just being polite."

"Jesus, Mulder, good manners only go so far, even for me." She rolled
her eyes in exasperation. "You should know because I'm sitting here
letting you... Sitting here.... Because I haven't kicked you out
today, either, even though this is driving me nuts."

She wiggled closer to him, touching her nose to his and looking him in
the eye. "If you have a point to make, Mulder," she said, rubbing
deliberately against his hand and pressing down on what felt
tantalizingly like a nice, stiff cock, "you should make it soon."

He appeared to dismiss her threat, and continued in his best
interrogation tone, "I'm curious...." he paused and shifted her
backward, ignoring her growl of frustration. "For instance," he leaned
forward and whispered in her ear, "do you like this?" He traced his
tongue over and around the outside of her ear, finally pulling the
lobe into his mouth and sucking.

His warm breath tickled each tiny hair in her ear, and she felt
sensation arc straight to her clit. She arched, using her feet as
leverage, and felt his hand slip under her. She gasped as two long
fingers slid up inside. Her arousal, which had risen in a series of
peaks and plateaus since he'd walked in the door, reached a stage just
short of pure pleasure, manifesting itself in a series of involuntary
convulsions around his fingers.

"M-Mulder," she said, "you'd better hurry this up."

She began to move of her own accord, using her stomach muscles to rock
forward and slide up on his fingers, groaning with pleasure as she
sank back down. She anchored herself with one arm around his neck,
pulling herself forward to kiss him, sliding her tongue into his
mouth, muffling his startled, "Wait...." She moved her other hand to
the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down as far as she could.

"Scully," he gasped, pulling his mouth from hers as she released his
engorged penis. "Wait." He grabbed her hand and pulled it to join the
other around his neck.

She gave a shimmy of protest, trying to move from his fingers onto his
cock. "Mulder, I want--"

He halted her forward motion, keeping her from rubbing her clitoris
against him, keeping his fingers deep inside. Dropping his head so
that his forehead rested against hers, he waited as their rapid
breathing slowed in synch. He pulled the waistband of his shorts back
up, ignoring her disappointed moan. "Scully, let me try to finish
this," he said.

"What do you think I was trying to do?" she complained.

"Come on, Scully, this is hard enough as it is."

"Best news I've heard all day," she muttered.

He kissed her briefly, then rubbed his cheek against hers. "Can't I at
least find out what else will get that kind of reaction?"

"Mulder, are you profiling me?"

"A good profiler uses every tool at his disposal."

"Promises, promises."

He pulled back, gave her a beatific smile, then leaned down to kiss
her, an extravagant, open mouthed kiss. She moaned into his mouth,
again convulsing involuntarily around his fingers. "Good?" he
whispered.

You know it is, you bastard, she thought. And you are so going to pay
for this. "Mmmm..." she said.

"I love kissing you," he said. "These lips..." He strung little kisses
along her lips, teasing with the tip of his tongue. "This sweet little
tongue," he murmured, dipping his own tongue into her mouth to twine
around hers, rubbing just the sensitive tip. "The way it peeks out of
the corner of your mouth when you're really angry with me. You know,
Scully, arguing with you over the years has given 'tongue lashing' a
whole new meaning."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

"Promises, promises." He moved his exploration down her neck, kissing
her collarbone, nuzzling the hollow of her throat, letting his lips
rest momentarily on the delicate skin. She felt her own heart beating
in the pulse that jumped under his lips.

"Funny how things turn out," he whispered.

"What's that?"

"How it's your heart beating that keeps me alive."

She blinked, then shut her stinging eyes. Oh God, she thought. Mindful
just beat mindless by a mile.

Thought was eclipsed by another round of sensation as his lips moved
from her throat to her breasts, placing kisses along the sides, in
between, underneath. His tongue swirled over her skin. "There's
nothing softer than this," he muttered. "So soft."

He glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye, his lips still
brushing her breast. "Do I ever hurt you when I do this?"

She shook her head no, mute at the sight of his reddened lips,
startled to realize that they were the same color as her aroused
nipples.

"Do you like it?" he asked softly. "Tell me."

She nodded her head, yes this time, and pressed her hand on the back
of his head, pushing his mouth to where she wanted it.

He smiled up at her, then closed his eyes and slid his lips over her
nipple. The sight of his rapt face and the sensation of his tongue --
the rough top surface that aroused, the slick under-surface that
soothed -- the combination rocked her upward again.

"God, Mul--, uhh." She clenched around his fingers, desperate for
completion, wildly seeking to rub her aching clit against him, against
anything.

"Mmm, so good," he agreed, his voice muffled as his mouth closed over
her other breast. This time he using strong suction to elicit the arch
of her back and another drawn out moan.

"Mulder," she gasped "I'm going to--"

He let go of her nipple with a soft wet plop, and shot her an
intrigued look. "Just from this?"

"Mulder, I'm going to kill you."

"Can't it wait?" he said. "I'm really busy here."

"Oh hell," she muttered. She took one hand off his shoulder and
reached down to where she needed to be touched most. She had never
considered doing this in front of anyone, but enough was enough.
Looking him straight in the eye, because she was too embarrassed to
look anywhere else, she said, "I guess if I want something done, I
just have to do it mysel--"

He stopped her with a hand over hers. "Let me, Scully." He returned
her direct gaze. "That's what this is all about. Tell me how."

Beyond embarrassment, she dropped her eyes. "I can't," she whispered.

"Then show me." He kissed her cheek, then gently moved her hand away,
replacing it with his own. "Show me."

He began to move his hands, thrusting up inside, circling outside,
missing the mark but getting points for enthusiasm and persistence.
She tentatively put her hand over his, directed it, showed him the
motion she liked best. Her arousal ascended quickly to an almost
unbearable peak.

"Mulder," she warned.

"Yeah?" He said, sparing a glance at her face. Whatever he saw there
made him break into a happy smile. "Yeah, Scully?"

"Yes, Mul-, uhh," she confirmed, then closed her eyes as he added a
variation of his own, rubbing the fingers inside her, by accident or
design hitting the spot that sent her over the edge.

"Uhh, ohh my God, Mulder...." She came powerfully, almost lifting off
his fingers. Arching her back and bucking wildly against him, she let
out a strangled moan as pleasure raced from her toes up through the
top of her head. Her breathing stopped for a long agonizing moment,
then came back in loud, gusting pants.

Echoes of the first burst of pleasure rippled through her, drowning
her in sensation and the sound of her own heart beating in her ears.
Soon, a wave of lassitude washed over her, and she gave into it,
dropping rational thought like a dead weight. That must be why.... Why
the first words she heard from Mulder as she came up for air made no
sense.

"...six times seven?" he was asking.

Her breathing slowed. He was holding her by the waist and she was
again resting half way down his thighs. Trying to move closer to him,
she realized her knuckles were white from the pressure of her fingers
digging into his shoulders. "God, Mulder," she said, "did I hurt you?"

He let her pull him forward, settling his face in the curve of her
neck. She stroked his hair, and said softly, "Mulder, that was
incredible."

"Scully, what's six times seven?" he said urgently, his voice muffled
by her sweat dampened hair.

"What?" She tried to pull his head up so she could look at him, but he
resisted, keeping it buried in her neck.

"I always get stuck on that one."

"Mulder, you just blew my mind, not to mention several other critical
body parts, and you want me to do math? Is this some sort of test?"

"No but if you don't tell me six times seven, I can't get to six times
eight which is forty-eight, and so on, and this is going to be over
very quickly, and don't do that," he said, sounding alarmed as she
tried to lean down to see his face.

She inched forward close enough to realize that, even held down by his
clothing, his erection was still pretty impressive. And she had been
off in the ozone for quite a while if he was already up to six times
seven. Stamina, thy name is Mulder, she thought.

"Forty-two," she said.

"Thank you," he said in a strangled voice.

"My pleasure," she murmured. So this is joy, she thought. Time to
share.

"Mulder," she whispered, "Your turn. Tell me."

A puff of laughter blew through her hair. "Scully, would you be
offended if I told you that at this moment all you have to do is lie
down and stay still for a minute, and I'll be able to get all the
pleasure I need?"

"You want me to stay still?" She laughed. "Do I have to think of
England, too?"

He shook his head and sat up to face her, with a smile that mixed
embarrassment and arousal in an intriguing way. She smiled back
softly, and wondered if he was remembering her warning to him, about
getting what he wished for.

Moving carefully off his lap, she immediately gave up the idea of
walking to the couch, never mind the bedroom. Her unsteady legs
demanded that she simply sink to the floor in front of the chair.

He sat with his hands on the edge of the chair, looking down at her. A
trickle of sweat ran from his hair across his collar bone and down his
rapidly rising and falling chest. She pushed up onto her knees, and
retraced its path with one hand. "Mulder," she said, continuing down
to pull at the elastic waistband of his shorts, "are you sure I can't-
-".

He shook his head. "Right now I want to... um, just...." he looked at
her hopefully, then down to where her hands were pulling at his
shorts, easing them carefully over his rigid cock, sliding them off
his hips. She pulled them down his legs and off, sitting back on her
heels.

My... goodness, she thought. Lucky me. Fully aroused Mulder by soft
afternoon light.

She leaned back on her elbows, drew one leg up and extended the other.
"As you were saying, Mulder," she said. "Right now."

He bit his lip. "Don't you want to move to the--"

"No," she said. "Here."

He slid off the chair onto his knees, and she widened her legs to
accommodate him. He lowered himself, resting on his elbows, his eyes
never leaving hers. Cupping her face with his hands, he drew her head
up for a kiss, soft and almost chaste.

"It's okay, Mulder," she said.

He closed his eyes and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth,
eliciting a heartfelt moan from both of them. She arched up and rubbed
her belly against his erection, trying to move far enough in the right
direction to get it buried inside her.

He let go of her mouth with a gasp, and reached down to pull her leg
up further, opening her to him. He looked down to where they were
almost joined, then back into her eyes as he pushed just inside.

She closed her eyes, anticipating the longed-for sensation. Adjusting
the angle of her hips upward allowed him to slide all the way in, and
she hummed with pleasure at the sensation.

"Scully," he gasped and her eyes flew open. "Scully." He started to
thrust, a small, deep movement that she could feel all the way up in
her throat. She moaned in encouragement, and pushed upward,
contracting around him. He dropped his head and began to thrust
harder, pulling out further and sliding home with a harsh groan.

She watched as his face screwed up in an expression that almost echoed
pain, and blinked as a drop of sweat rolled down his cheek and plopped
onto hers. "Mulder," she whispered, "I know it's us. I know it's you.
I love you."

He growled in reply, and his strokes grew forceful and more erratic,
pushing her forward on the rug. As he thrust down into her, she felt
another orgasm starting to build. Cured of shyness by their earlier
intimate explorations, she circled her clitoris once, twice, and that
was enough. She shocked herself by coming for the second time that
afternoon. Not as hard, not as explosive. But ultimately more
satisfying, for being part of an intimate joining rather than an overt
display.

He had his eyes open again, trying, but not really seeing her. "God.
Scully. Love you," he gasped. "Scully...." She arched up into him one
last time as he came, reveling in the feeling of warmth gushing into
her. He kept pumping, finally slowing, but keeping them pressed
together.

His eyes finally cleared and he gave her a long look, full of emotion.
Love, certainly. Desire, even now. And Mulder being Mulder, the
inevitable hint of doubt. Before she could address any of them, his
gaze clouded, and his eyelids dropped. He settled onto her, pressing
his face into the side of her neck, settling his hips into the cradle
of hers.

She pulled her hand from between them and stroked his back, moving her
other hand from his hair all the way down to his buttocks, enjoying
the feeling of strong muscles completely relaxed. She inhaled deeply,
astonished at how erotic the mix of sex and sweat could be. Stifling a
laugh, she realized that the CD had cycled back and was replaying that
first sultry song. She hadn't heard the music for quite some time.
Mulder would be pleased.

His deep breathing hitched and he shifted his weight, pulling out of
her slowly. He slid down so that most of his weight rested on his own
hip and shoulder, relieving and disappointing her at the same time.
"Scully," he said, his voice slightly slurred, "can we stay here for a
minute?"

She hadn't noticed before, but the floor was cold, and there was
something sticking into her back. If it was a sunflower seed shell, he
was going to get one of those tongue lashings he claimed to enjoy so
much. And she was sticky and despite shifting his weight, he was still
very heavy. "Of course," she said.

Her eyes closed, and she was lulled by the sound of his soft
breathing. She wasn't sleepy, but felt surprisingly serene, enough to
wonder idly if she could get a two-for-one steam cleaning deal on the
rug and Nana's chair, and too content to care if she couldn't.

She started to drift, deliberately disregarding the kinds of thoughts
that tended to creep up on her at times like this, times when she was
feeling most protective of the man beside her, and the powerful bond
between them. Thoughts of threats all around -- acts of God, acts of
man, acts of their own willful selves. For now, I will just enjoy
this, she thought. For however long it lasts.

"Scully?" Mulder said suddenly. "Did I tell you I love you?" He
started to struggle up.

"Yes, Mulder," she said, gently pushing him back down. He settled back
next to her with a sigh. "You did."

And you do, she thought. Who would have thought that you would do it
so well? So hot. Surprisingly sweet. And, oh yes -- mindful.

***

End

Feedback is welcome at b_leonato@yahoo.com (Beatrice)

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