Let's Get This Show on the Road - Part 2/3
Summary and disclaimers in Part 1

*****

Fox Mulder's Apartment
8:49 P.M.

Mulder didn't remember driving back to his place, but when
he reached his door, he became thankful he had arrived in
one piece. 'Then again,' he thought to himself, 'maybe it
would have been better had I not made it back at all.'

It wasn't the first time he had had these self-destructive
thoughts. For a time when he was seventeen, amongst the
pressures of his senior year at high school, deciding on a
college, and his divorced parents constant animosity toward
each other, he had come very close to suicide. But he had
been determined not to become another statistic and had
trudged on with life instead. College had been better. Far
away from his family and memories of Samantha, he had
started over in England. A new confidence had emerged.
Confidence with his mind. With his position in life. With
women. Well, the latter had slipped a bit after he
discovered Phoebe's liaison with one of her Professors.

The FBI had only increased that confidence, and since the
X-Files, he had developed an 'I Don't Care' attitude that
allowed him to do what he did without constantly judging
himself. Then Scully had come along. Smart, energetic little
Scully. A tiny red-haired dynamo so determined to not
believe, but so faithful to him. It made him sick to think
of what she might be doing with her life, her career, if she
hadn't been assigned to the X-Files. If she had never known
him. It made him more sick to think of where he might be if
he had never known her.

Locking his door behind him, Mulder threw his jacket at the
wall and stalked into his living room, throwing himself down
on the couch. He had known what Scully was up to tonight,
but he hadn't thought she would nearly succeed. Asking him
to dinner had been her way of saying she forgave him; her
way of trying to mend the damage he had done in their
relationship. And for a while, he had thought it was going
to work. But the horrible vision he had created inside his
head that morning had continued to dog him, until it was all
he could see:

Scully, fear and concern flooding her beautiful blue eyes, a
tear running down her cheek. Trust. Trust in him. Faith that
he would never hurt her. The cool clammy feeling of the gun
in his sweaty grip. The power of Modell's will, pushing at
him. He tried to push back, but he was tired. He was losing.
No. No, don't squeeze. *BANG* The gun firing. The bullet
hitting Scully. The surprise in her eyes, the betrayal. Then
nothing. No emotion. Her gaze empty as she fell to the
ground.

He shook the image away. Modell would be dead if that had
happened. No ifs, ands or buts about it. With no more
bullets and no other weapons, he would have had to take out
Pusher with his bare hands, but he would have. He could feel
the man's weak throat under his hands even now. Squeezing.
Harder. Tighter. Dead. He would have been dead.

Just like he would have been dead if there had been more
than one bullet in that gun today.

And then Mulder would have retrieved his own gun and
followed Scully. Only he knew he wouldn't have joined
Scully. He knew he would not have gone where living angels
like her go after death, wherever that may be.

Mulder squeezed his eyes closed, feeling the tears that had
threatened all day slide down his cheeks. He couldn't do it.
The might-have-beens were too powerful. He would go to
Skinner tomorrow and request that Scully be transferred out
of the X-Files. She would never do it herself; she was too
stubborn. But he had to make her leave him before she was
taken against her will. This wasn't self-destruction
anymore. This was self-preservation. Because if she was
taken from him, he would die.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there before he
heard the key in his lock. Rage filled him. Why couldn't she
leave well enough alone?! He stood to face her as she
entered, squinting as the light from the hallway flooded his
dark apartment. She closed the door behind her and reached
for the light switch.

"No!" he said forcefully.

She jumped, and he knew that she couldn't yet see him, but
she pulled her hand back away from the switch anyway. 

"Just get the hell out of here, Scully."

"No."

"Jesus!" he shouted, not caring if the neighbors heard. "Why
the hell are you here? Didn't you get it that you can't say
anything to make this right?"

She was silent for a while. "I didn't come here to talk."

Mulder's head was beginning to throb and he put his hand up
to his forehead, massaging his temples. "Then do I even want
to know why you're here?"

She moved forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living
room. "I can't let you think what you do," she said softly.

"Do you even really know what I think?" he growled. 

"I think that that amazing sense of guilt you seem to have
been born with is working overtime tonight."

He laughed, the sound harsh. "And you think you can change
it, don't you? That's what dinner was all about tonight,
wasn't it? You trying to convince me we could continue on as
if this hadn't happened. As if I hadn't stuck a gun in your
face with the full intent to pull the trigger?"

"It wasn't your intent, Mulder!" Her voice was strong now.
Her anger growing. Good, he thought. If I get her angry
enough, maybe she'll leave.

"How do you know?"

This time, it was she who laughed. "You expect me to believe
you really wanted to kill me?"

"Maybe Modell was right. Maybe I have never forgiven you for
shooting me last year."

Scully nodded, a smirk on her face. She stepped forward
again, her eyes meeting his now that she had adjusted to the
dark. "Okay, I'll buy that. Along with knowledge that
anything Cancer Man says is the gospel truth."

Okay, so getting her mad wasn't working. She always loved a
good argument. So how do you get her out and away, Mulder?

"I'm going to request a transfer tomorrow."

"You want to transfer?" Worry darkened her eyes.

"No. I'm requesting it for you."

"What?!"

"I don't want to work with you anymore. I'm tired of you
following me around like a little puppy bashing my ideas and
theories while trying to make me think you're the hottest
thing out there."

Humor filled her eyes as she bit her lower lip to keep from
smiling. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize--"

"Of course you didn't," Mulder scoffed, his heart aching.
"I'm sure you love all the rumors about us."

She paused, tilting her head. "What are you talking about?"

"You just told me you didn't come here to talk, Agent
Scully. Then why are you here?"

She folded her arms and glared at him. Her movements brought
to his attention that although she had slipped on a pair of
sneakers and her coat, she hadn't changed clothing.
Meaning... "And I don't suppose you put on a bra, either."

She drew in a sharp breath and pulled herself up as tall as
she could. Somehow, despite that fact that he still towered
above her, he felt small. "What exactly are you implying,
Agent Mulder?" She put an emphasize on the 'agent'.

"What better way to try and convince me I'm something than
by offering yourself to me?" Mulder knew he had just nailed
his coffin shut, but as long as she was still alive above
ground, he didn't care.

She stood silent, her mouth open in astonishment, her eyes
wide and luminous, even without makeup to enhance them.
Damn, he thought. Why did she have to be just as beautiful
without makeup as she was with? No woman should be that
lucky. Then she moved...not away from him as he had hoped,
but toward him. She stopped just short of touching him,
looking up at him, her eyes glowing. "If I offered myself to
you, would it work?"

Disgust flowed through him. Not because of her or her words,
but because of the effect those words had on him. Suddenly,
without warning, he was aroused. 

Swallowing, he responded in a rough voice. "No."

The pain that flooded her eyes shocked him. She quickly
lowered her gaze and stepped back. Nodding, she smiled
ruefully toward the floor. "You were right. You're not worth
it."

The pain he had seen in her eyes flowed into him. 

She turned away without another word and he tried to close
his eyes, not wanting to see her walk away. But he couldn't.
Just like he couldn't let her go. Not yet. 

With a growl deep in his throat, he rushed forward, reaching
her just as she opened the door. He reached past her and
shoved his hand against it, causing it to slam shut. She
jumped and turned to face him. He let his momentum continue
to carry him forward into her, pushing her against the door.
He felt a tingle of excitement when he recognized fear in
her eyes, and it scared him. But he didn't move. He didn't
dare give up his advantage.

"You want to know why I'm not worth it, Scully?" he
demanded. "Because you are."

"What?" she whispered harshly, trying to sink into the door
behind her. Away from him.

"You are worth it. You are worth so much more than I can
ever give." He glanced down at their bodies curiously, then
shoved himself against her harder. She gasped, and he knew
she had felt his erection pressing into her belly. "All I
can do is take."

With a suddenness that caught him off guard she slipped out
and away from him, leaving him to fall lightly against the
door. With a grim smile, he turned around, leaning his back
against the wood. She stood a few feet in front of him,
breathing hard. "That was good, Scully. You remember your
training. Of course, you want to try and disable your
attacker, too. Knee him in the groin, maybe."

She glanced down at his crotch and licked her lips. Though
he was sure her actions were purely accidental, he groaned
and felt blood surge to gather at the object of her glance.
She looked up, her eyes wide. The emotion in them was
unreadable. Or maybe he just didn't want to read it.

"What the hell is going on here, Mulder?" Her voice was as
dark as he had ever heard it.

"You tell me, Scully," he responded in kind. "You invite me
to dinner, at your place, in an attempt to make me see that
you hold no grudges. That you forgive me for nearly killing
you. Do you forgive me for your abduction, too? How about
your reputation, Mrs. Spooky? Or what about your sister? Do
you forgive me for that?"

"Mulder, I never blamed you for any of those things--"

"But you should have," he interrupted. "I'm a dangerous man
to know, Scully. I could hurt you over and over and over,
and you would still come crawling back, wouldn't you?"

Her jaw clenched, but she answered around it. "You have
never hurt me intentionally. And you never would."

"And that makes a difference, huh?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Okay, then. We better change how you see me." He
stepped forward, knowing she wouldn't run, not after what
she just said. So when he reached her and began tugging off
her coat, she didn't move. Then he reached for her shirt,
that damn T-shirt, which hid only bare skin. 

She suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled
away. He followed, intent now on proving to her how
worthless he really was. Grabbing the hem of her shirt with
one hand, he grabbed her around the waist with the other
hand, ripping her shirt up and off. "Mulder!" she shouted,
then her struggles started in earnest and he knew he would
have to back off soon. He didn't intend to follow through on
this threat, but he wanted her to think he would.

She pulled out of his grasp, but he reached for her again
after throwing her shirt across the room, turning her around
to face him. She deftly twisted her wrist to escape him
again, but not before he saw her, bared from the waist up to
his sight. Her perfect breasts, breasts he had often dreamed
about, were now naked to him, standing as proud and defiant
as the woman before him. Rampant desire raged though him,
and he lunged for her once more.

"You asshole!" Scully yelled, fighting him. She tried to
move for her shirt, and he knew she wasn't about to leave
the apartment topless...unless she truly feared he would
rape her. And wasn't that what he wanted to do? Make her
afraid. Make her believe he could hurt her? He grabbed her
around the waist once more and hauled her into his living
room. She squirmed against him, her feet kicking the air,
her fingers tugging at his arms. She was no match for his
strength, he knew. But her training in self-defense would be
more than sufficient to keep this from getting too far out
of control. In the meantime, he was enjoying her struggles,
knowing that whatever maneuver she had planned for him would
more than likely hurt like hell. 

But she never tried anything. She fought him, but only
enough to keep him busy in defense. Even as he tugged at her
sweatpants, pulling them easily down  her legs, she fought
only enough to make the action difficult for him. Could she
want this? he wondered. How far would she let him go? His
anger at her apparent compliance was barely overshadowed by
his growing lust. He wanted her. He had wanted her for a
long time. His partnership with her was already over, so why
not give in and take her? If she didn't want it, she would
stop him. And she would hate him.

Grabbing her panties, he pulled them down to mingle with the
sweatpants which were now tangled above her shoes. He let
himself fall to the floor with her, knowing that she would
have the advantage there. Giving her one last chance to get
away. His hand brushed her pubic area and he froze in shock.
She was wet. Oh, God, she was so very wet. His arousal,
already painfully hard due to the excitement brought about
by their struggles, grew even more. He groaned at the
pressure, desperate to free himself from his jeans. He took
a deep breath, noticing as he did so not only the stillness
of the woman sitting next to him, but the smell of her own
arousal.

With another groan, he reached over her to pull off her
shoes. She tried to help, but she was shaking now and wasn't
very dexterous at the moment. Soon the shoes, and her
sweatpants and panties, were off, and Mulder began working
at his own clothing. Scully tried to move away, but his
determination to dominate the situation caused him to grab
her once more. Recklessly, her pulled her up on her knees
facing away from him. 

His coffee table was in front of them. The couch was too far
away and the floor behind them was wood. But he needed to be
in her. Now. He leaned her forward toward the table. She
seemed to understand, and she crawled forward on her knees a
few inches so she could grab hold of it. Impatiently, he
unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down
just enough for his shaft to spring free. The cool air on
his heated flesh made him cry out, and Scully tried to turn
to look at him.

"No!" he told her, moving up on his knees behind her. He
placed a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her
upper body forward onto the table top. He held her there,
unresisting, then used his knees to spread her legs. His
erection sought out her moist warmth, and before he knew it,
he was there, his tip teasing her opening.

He stopped suddenly, his anger fading as he realized what
was about to happen. "Scully?"

"Please, Mulder!" she gasped. "Now!"

With a growl, he grabbed hold of her hips and shoved himself
into her. She was so wet. So hot. And so tight.

"Ahhhh!" Scully's shout was full of pain. Remorse flooded
him, almost annihilating his desire. He began to pull out,
only to be stopped by her groan. This time, there was no
pain in her voice whatsoever. Using her strong arms, she
pushed the table forward across the carpet, then lowered her
upper body to the floor. Mulder watched in amazement as she
lay her cheek flat against the ground and pushed up and back
into him. He felt an internal squeeze and knew it had been
intentionally done by the woman beneath him. 

He pulled out, then pushed back in. She countered him,
moving forward as he withdrew, then sliding back when he
thrust in, squeezing him at the same time. Dear, God! How
had she learned to do that?! She was whimpering now, wild,
joyful whimpers that drowned out any fears he had that she
wasn't enjoying this as much as he was. His grip on her hips
tightened. His thrusts became faster. The simple knowledge
that he was fucking Dana Scully from behind on his living
room floor nearly sent him over the edge way too soon. The
fact that she was loving it did.

His testicles tightened and he slammed into her
once...twice...three more times before his release came. His
vision blurred and his body sagged. "Holy shit!"

She was still moving underneath him, and her whimpers were
desperate. He became aware of her fingers, which were
touching and teasing their bodies where they were joined. He
realized what she was trying to do and cursed himself. After
taking so much from this woman, the least he could do was
give her good sex. But here he was, finished, as she tried
desperately to get herself off beneath him.

With another curse, he wrapped his arm around her waist,
pulled out of her, and lifted her upper body up off the
floor. Sitting back on his heels, he pulled her upright and
slid her up so she sat astride his thighs, her sweaty back
to his chest. He held her tightly to him, knowing that if he
let go, she would slide right off his lap. With his free
hand, he pulled her hand away from her center and exchanged
it with his own. She gasped as he slid three of his fingers
deep into her, and he echoed her as he reveled in the heat
he found. He began sliding his fingers in and out, letting
his thumb trail up to play with  her clit. Her head dropped
back onto his shoulder, and she began rocking her hips,
riding his hand.

Since one arm was busy holding her upright and the other was
busy down below, that left only his mouth to make love to
her. He began to nuzzle her ear, tasting the sweat along her
hairline with his tongue. Nibbling. Sucking. Kissing. Her
cheek. Her jaw. Her neck. Anywhere he could reach.

He felt her body stiffen and her movements became wild and
erratic. "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!" She was holding back. She wasn't
going to let go. 

"Please, Scully," Mulder whispered in her ear, his fingers
working her harder. "Please. I want to see you come. I want
to know you're coming for me. Only me."

"Only you," she whispered back. "Only... ahhhhh! Oh, God!"

He held her as she shuddered uncontrollably, watching her
face as the orgasm swept through her, reveling in the beauty
of Dana Scully finally letting go. A fresh wave of moisture
flooded his hand, which he continued to tease her with,
determined to draw out her pleasure as long as possible.
Finally, her body drooped in his arms.

They sat like that for a long time, Mulder's hand cupping
her protectively. When he brought his hand up, she moaned in
displeasure. He looked at it curiously, at the wetness that
enveloped it. It hit him suddenly that it wasn't just her
juices that covered it, but his own semen; he hadn't worn a
condom. She could get pregnant.

So why didn't that bother him?

"Mmmmm..." Scully's humming sounded sated and wonderful to
his ears. With a smile, he shifted slightly, leaning back to
brush away the hair from the back of her neck. Yep. There
was her scar. It was the first time he had seen it since she
had told him about having the implant removed several months
ago. He felt her stiffen and knew she was aware of what he
was looking at. 

With a sigh, he kissed her, his tongue tracing the scar. Her
body relaxed once more and her head dropped forward. He
lifted his head. "I'm sorry."

She tensed again. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Scully suddenly pushed away from him, turned to face him on
her knees, brought up her hand, and slapped him.

*****

End 2/3

    Source: geocities.com/virtuesandvices