TITLE: Penny For Your Thoughts

(Part 1 of 5)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: VRA

RATING: NC-17, and I mean it. WARNING! WARNING! THIS VIGNETTE CONTAINS VERY GRAPHIC SEXUAL SITUATIONS. Forewarned is forearmed. If you don't care for the physical, graphic stuff, STOP HERE!

SUMMARY: This is a shorter piece. Sort of a Fox Mulder stream of consciousness thing that I've been toying with for a while. Scully is there though - most definitely - and you'll be seeing her through Mulder's eyes. I need to thank two people for giving me the guts to post this piece. First, my wife, the light of my life, and second, a very talented fan fic writer and all around perceptive person, Crash. Ladies you have my undying gratitude! FEEDBACK PLEASE!!! Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? Flames are for roasting 'weenies'.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: "Tooms" and "Squeeze". Phoebe Green from "Fire". Probably late in the relationship. You pick a time.

KEYWORDS: romance angst Scully Mulder NC-17 vignette

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Eugene Tooms and Phoebe Green belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.

I'm lying in a bed at The Cedars Motel near Manitowoc, Wisconsin, in the dark, and it's still raining. But, I think it's slacking off. I wonder if it rains a lot in Wisconsin, in the spring. What time? 5 AM? I've gotten up every hour, on the hour, since 2 AM. Why am I awake? I'm awake because I can't, I CAN NOT believe that Dana Katherine Scully is next to me, cuddled next to me <IN BED!> warm, and beautiful, and asleep.

God!

I keep waking up to look, to check, just to make sure that, yessiree, she IS there, she hasn't disappeared, I'm not hallucinating, and I think "Mulder, you are one lucky son of a bitch."

I never call myself Fox. Why? I hate the name. There are two big reasons I hate it. My parents. I hate it because my father <dead>, called me Fox, and my mother <wishes she were dead?>, calls me Fox, and it gives me the creeps. I really do wish <my father had> my mother would call me Mulder.

And of course, there's another reason. Two words, Phoebe Green. That bitch on two wheels, Phoebe <Oh, Fox I wish you had more chest hair, 'dahling'>, Green. It's the name that Phoebe used so scathingly well at the end of our relationship. I can still hear her tight assed Brit accent when she said, "Get out, FOX!" she made it sound so feral, and than her little terms of endearment for me - "Fox and Hounds" and "Fox Among The Chickens". Christ, it was not a high point in my life.

But after tonight, I definitely never want to hear "Fox" again. It's going to be "Mulder", forever, because I love the way that Scully says it. I love the way it rolls off her tongue, and out those little bee stung lips of hers, "Mulderrrrr" and after tonight, the way she moaned it, and than the way she screamed it.

Jesus!

But I digress. Scully is sighing from the other side of the bed. She smiles a little and I think - How did this happen? How did our lives, our whole world change tonight? How did I even get up the guts to....

Well, maybe it started with her saving my life.

We flew to Wisconsin, into Mitchell Field on United Airlines. Fly the friendly skies, Scully and I. We were hot on the trail of one Lucas Buck, serial killer. Yes, I kid you not, Lucas Buck. He had the same name as the Sheriff in that short lived "blink and you missed it", TV series, "American Gothic". An underrated series, just like Lucas thought of himself as - underrated. Ever since we landed in Wisconsin, he'd been taunting me, and taunting Scully, for days. "Come out and play, Fox (there's that name again), Come out and slay, Scully....insisting he was possessed by the Devil and carving his "666", and "Satan rules!" graffiti all over his victim's bodies.

Now, if Lucas Buck had said he was possessed by a demon, I might have believed the sorry, son of a bitch. But saying you're possessed by THE DEVIL is sort of like all the loonies in the bin who say they're Jesus or Napoleon - nuts is nuts - and this particular pistachio was just your run of the mill sociopath. A dead battery with a big knife that he used to cover up his shortcomings in other areas. Still, if I even smell the whiff of a possible X-File, I'm off, and Scully is usually along for the ride against her (and I am a dick, not to admit it), better judgment.

So there we were, my Scully and I, outside a rural cow barn near Manitowoc, Wisconsin, and we knew Lucas Buck was hiding inside. I of course, ever protective of Scully, <like she needs it, God, how she hates it when I'm so over-protective>, tell her to cover the outside while I go in and flush the miserable little knife wielding bastard out.

And TA DA - Lucas Buck gets the drop on me, and I am standing in the middle of this barn in cow shit and hay, with a gigantic Bowie knife at my throat. Good move, Mulder, I tell myself. And Scully sneaks in, and than there she is, standing in front of us, legs planted firmly apart in her firing stance, gun up and eyes flashing. Agent Dana Scully - willing to face down liver eating mutants like Eugene Tooms, and sick dead boys like Lucas Buck who probably eat road kill, or at least smell like they do. You are what you eat, as the saying goes.

But oh, those blue Scully eyes. If I hadn't been in mortal fear for my life <NOT - quite frankly sometimes I just don't give a shit, and that's why I end up in situations like this>, I could have drowned in those eyes right then and there. But I am really sweating, and the knife is pressed close, and Scully yells, "Federal Agent!" I am armed and I will not hesitate to shoot". And Lucas Buck yells, "Go ahead, you bitch, shoot him!" <meaning me, of course, because he's got me right in front of him>.

Now, Scully is a dead shot - number 1 with a bullet, I'd say, and I speak from experience. But, I look into those wild, blue Scully eyes again, and I bet Lucas Buck sees the anger and determination, but because he doesn't know Scully as well as I do, he doesn't see the fear. I know what she's afraid of. She's afraid she can't hit him, and she's going to hit me instead. I can tell it. I can tell it...but here comes the best part. Lucas Buck is hissing in my ear - "The Devil is going to take you Fox, you're going to hell," and than Scully says, "But Lucas, who is that behind you?" and honest to God, the moron actually shifts to look sideways, and Scully gets off her shot. Bang, right in the temple and Lucas Buck falls over dead. That bullet was so close I could feel the heat on my cheek. Unfortunately, on the way down, Lucus Buck's knife slices into the side of my left shoulder. Ouch. Shit, I liked this suit. And there goes my expense account, again, for the month.

Scully is at my side, like the shot she just used to ace Lucas. Her hands are so gentle, and she peels off my suit coat jacket, and tears my shirt <liked it too, but not as much as the suit>, to take a look at the wound. It's not a really big slash, well, not too small either, and it's bleeding like hell. Scully works to control the bleeding. Then she's on the cell phone calling for an ambulance, and it gets there fairly fast, and we are off to Manitowoc Municipal Hospital.

I can't believe her in the hospital ER. She is waving her ID around, and making it known just how important it is that I get immediate treatment. She is impressive. But I can see she is upset, and upset that I can see she is upset. God, could she really CARE for me? I mean I know she cares, she's my partner and my friend. My best friend. But she's really frantic because I am bleeding again like a stuck pig, and she looks worried sick. And I think - could this go beyond the platonic partner thing? God, I hope so, I devoutly hope so. And you know, I've hoped it for years.

Some hapless intern is going to stitch me up. He is hapless because he has Dana Scully looking over his shoulder, making sure that he is doing it right. The guy takes the needles full of Lidocaine or Novocain, or whatever it is they decide to use to numb you up, and sticks them in around the wound. God, I hate needles. This is almost worse than getting cut. The needle and thread go in one end, and Scully is giving this poor guy advice on how to get the stitches closer together so there will be a smaller scar. And than the guy is so nervous from her less than gentle criticism, that he accidentally stitches outside the Lidocaine boundary and I cringe - Shit! And than I say it, and I know I'm going to regret it, but I say it anyway, "Scully, cut the guy some slack, he's probably sewn up more warm bodies than you have." And she looks from the intern to my shoulder, and into my face, and she turns on her heel, and walks out of the cubicle.

Crap.

"Why do I say these things?" "It's pathological I think. But here's a guilty secret. You know that expression, "You're beautiful when you're angry?" Well, Scully is beauty personified when she's as pissed as hell, and I goad her on just to see those aquamarine eyes flash in anger, and her skin flush with passion. It's a cheap thrill and I hate myself for doing it. But, I'm like an addict when it comes to those moments - I can't get enough.

So, I say something asinine like that remark, and than I loathe myself for a long time afterwards, because I know I've hurt her, and I didn't stop to consider that before I opened my smart ass mouth. Nope, she couldn't possibly care for me. Hell, I don't care for me.

Damn it.

I get bandaged, and handed a bottle of antibiotics <to compliment the shot of same>, and a huge bottle of painkillers in case my arm aches like a son of a bitch after the numbness wears off. <I thank Mother Mary that I didn't take those painkillers - more about that later>

Scully is sitting in the ER waiting room, fuming and silent. She has all ready taken care of the business with the local police, and the coroner. She is the model of efficiency.

I'm standing in the hallway, sliced suit coat over my good arm, and ripped dress shirt over the coat. I don't know what happened to my tie <no great loss>. I am standing in my undershirt and I know she is absolutely livid. So, I do the thing I do the best, and the most. I pout. My favorite ploy. Genetics has given me a set of lips that are made for pouting at women. Don't think I don't know it. I can really turn on that puppy dog, <How much is that doggie in the window?>, look for her when I need it. And boy do I need it right now. She isn't buying it though. She comes over and says, "Mulder, put your suitcoat back on, it's getting chilly outside," and I'm hopeful because she's showing concern, but than my hopes are crushed under her feet, as she turns around, and leaves the ER without even looking to see if I am following her.

I deserve it.

We go back to The Cedars Motel. I picked it, and I thought at the time, why are all Wisconsin Motels either called The Pines, or The Cedars or the best one yet - The Wild Wood? At any rate, I booked the rooms, and than, did I tell you, that it could have been called The Bates Motel, and Norman could have been in the main office checking us in? It was that bad. I have a knack for bad motels with connecting rooms. The Cedars was just another in a long series of them. Scully never complains though, and it is one of the many things I love about her - God, let me count the ways.

I went to my room. Scully goes to her room. I wait for a count of 10 and knock on her connecting door. She opens it, and with a raised eyebrow waits for me to say my piece. I stumble through the apology - sorry about the remark. Must have been the pain from the knife wound - I emphasize the PAIN part - and I ask if she'd like to get some dinner - my treat - what an inane remark - it's on the expense account.

I see her soften towards me than. But, she looks so tired and her eyes, the eyes that are so blue and intelligent, look listless and almost gray. Damn it, I think. I made her look like that, and I mentally kick myself in the nuts for doing it.

But she brightens a little, and I tell her - I just want to take a shower to get the rest of the blood off, and change. She says that would be fine, and remember not to get the bandage wet, and to just knock on the connecting door again when I'm ready.

Thank you Lord, I am forgiven.

I can't think of a good way to keep the stitches dry. Finally, I resort to letting my arm and shoulder hang out beyond the shower curtain and water goes all over the bathroom floor. Spiffy. I spend an extra 10 minutes sopping it up with bath towels so the overworked maid won't have to do it later. I feel a whole lot better after the shower, mainly because it washes away the last of the smell from Lucas "roadkill breath" Buck.

I decide to change into a sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers I brought with me. I rummage around in my garment bag and find a clean pair of boxers. I hold them up. I remember putting them in there, and now I wince. They are the green and gold ones - the ones from Frohike, Byers and Langly. The birthday joke underwear with the Green Bay Packer team logo on the leg and the word Packers repeated around the yellow waistband. Yikes! What possessed me to bring these along? When in Wisconsin do as the Cheeseheads do? It's too late now, I didn't bring enough clean pairs, so I put them on, wishing they said Redskins instead. I put my button fly jeans on, and than socks, and sneakers. Last, to complete the ensemble, I add my badge, ID, and than my gun, in it's holster, behind my back, under the sweatshirt.

Once I'm dressed, I go and knock on Scully's connecting door. She is still in her tailored business suit, the one that hides the fact that she might be a woman <something I find sad and bewildering at times>, but she asks, friendlier now "How's the arm?" I tell her it's fine, and I kept the bandage dry, Doc, and I am rewarded with just the hint of a smile on those luscious lips.

Did I tell you that Scully's body was not the first thing I noticed about her? I mean this with no disrespect, but at the time she really wasn't my type. It wasn't her brains either. I knew she was smart, I had read her file before she came into the basement office 5 years ago. Her body didn't register at all - and contrary to popular belief not all men are looking at tits and ass. The thing I noticed about Scully first was her face. She has the face of a Goddess. Her skin is alabaster, with just a hint of freckles. Peaches and cream complexion. Slightly aquiline nose, electric blue eyes, and oh my God those lips. Her pouting, rosebud lips. Lips to die for. I have thought about kissing those lips more times than I can count. So it was her face, and her hair <in all it's shining golden-red glory>, which attracted me to Scully first.

I am looking into that perfect face in a Perkins restaurant off the Interstate, not far from The Cedars Motel.

Neither of us felt like eating - obviously. She picks at her salad and pokes at her soup. I only eat half my burgher. We drink too much coffee.

Scully stares off into space. She's very tense, her whole body is like a coiled spring. I don't know what to do, so I say, Penny for your thoughts? Original, huh?

"Hmmm?" she answers. Her attention returns as she finally focuses "Oh, nothing really, I was just thinking it looks like it's going to rain," she says with a tiny smile.

But the smile never reaches her eyes, and her eyes look haunted, and as she picks up her coffee cup, her hand is shaking.

Lucas Buck, rot in hell. And hey, maybe I'll join you there.

Later, we get up the guts to go back to The Cedars. I go to my room and she goes to hers. I brush my teeth, get rid of the coffee, wash my hands, and pull off the jeans, sneakers and socks. I put my gun, ID, watch, and spare change on the night stand. I sit down in front of the TV with that little cable schedule the motel has provided for me, and scan it for anything interesting. Yes! American Movie Classics is listed and thank you - they are airing The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms. I will have something to watch, and than listen to, as I try to fall asleep.

Just as I am about to turn on the TV, I think I hear muffled sobs coming from the adjoining room. I think, is she crying? - oh Christ, and I tip toe over to the connecting door, my side, and put my ear to the wood. I hear the sobs. Hell!

I grab my jeans and pull them back on. I hesitate in front of my connecting door, and than I open it. I knock on her connecting door. There's no answer, so I say "Scully, are you all right?" There is still no answer. So, I take a deep breath and open her connecting door.

Her room is dim. Only the bathroom light is on, the door just cracked open. Scully is sitting on the bed closest to the bathroom, her sensible white cotton pajamas on, and a towel wrapped around her shower wet hair. She sits in shadows and she is trying to cry quietly. I stand, looking at her, and than I can't take it anymore, and I cross over to sit down next to her on the bed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, and than I place one arm, the good arm, around her shoulders. What's wrong, God, that's a stupid question. I mean, she just shot a crazed serial killer, without killing her partner by mistake, her partner is knifed, and than insults her when she tries to help him, and she has to take a shower in a pale green tiled shower stall, in the Bates motel - what's wrong with this picture. So, she cries and I can't blame her.

She is stiff under my arm, though. It occurs to me that I always enjoy touching her. I love the feel of her warmth beneath all those properly tailored business suits. The curve of her back against my palm. I rub her back a little now.

"Oh, Mulder...I'm fine, please, go back to your room, I'll be all right, it's just that this case, the stress the..., I just lost it, all right, that's all," she sniffs and I know she is angry and embarrassed that I've seen her in this unguarded moment.

Shit.

Her back feels like a steel rod under my rubbing hand. "Hey, we're all entitled to a good cry every once in a while," I say, "it cleanses the soul,". Mulder, Mulder, Mulder! I cringe. Can I sound any more facile? But she droops against me <Oh Jesus> - but her muscles are still so tight, and I think - God, she must be really uncomfortable.

Somehow she senses my thoughts because she says, "I was hoping a hot shower would help, but..."

"Yeah, your muscles are really tense, would you like me to give you a back rub?" I ask. Please say yes, please say yes, please say...

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I could really use it," she says and she takes the towel off her head, and places it on the bed.

If I wouldn't mind?

You know, I have given her a neck message once or twice, in the basement office, after a particularly frustrating meeting with Walter Skinner. You know the type of meeting I mean - the one where you know you should have brought that tube of K-Y jelly. But this is the first time I've ever had a chance to go further than just her neck, and well, my hands are shaking. I want to help her though, if she stays this tense she won't be able to sleep, and she may get a really crushing headache, and I don't think I could stand to see her that way. So, I concentrate on my hands and tell her to get off the bed, and sit down in front of me on the floor.

I have this trick. When I have to be around Scully for a long time, in close physical contact with her for some reason, like now, I turn off. It's a Zen state. I take as impersonal a posture as possible, and begin doing square roots in my head, or plotting out all the trades and plays the Redskins would have to make in order to win the SuperBowl, or I recite the Gettysburg address - anything not to think of her smell, her warmth, her skin.

Help me.

She takes my instruction and sits in front of me, back towards me, crossing her legs Indian style. I begin the massage then. I let my hands un-knot all the tight spots in her neck, shoulders and upper back. I am using leverage to apply just the right pressure in that impersonal, and business like way. Her head is moving back and forth under my hands and thank God, I can feel her start to relax. Her hair is still slightly damp. It smells like Herbal Essence shampoo - so fresh.

Eventually, I have to scoot down to sit behind her. I use the bed as a backrest and she drops her body forward so that I can work on her lower back. Oh no, her pajama top slides up and, there it is - the tattoo, that tattoo, the snake eating it's tail. I have never seen it. She has never thought to show it to me, and I never wanted to see it - did I say never - Mulder you lying sod, of course I want to see it - even if it does mark a really black moment in our partnership <relationship?>.

That tattoo undulates.

I am having a hard time now, touching her, Oh Lord, so I start conjugating Latin verbs, and then reciting the Magna Carta, desperately, in my head.

"Is that better?" I ask.

"Much," comes her somewhat muffled reply as she straightens up.

"Scully, do you want to talk about it, the crying I mean? You can talk to me, really, it might help," I ask. I really do want her to unburden herself to me. I am guilty almost 24/7 of being an insensitive, self-absorbed jerk, but tonight I realize, for once that she is really hurting, and I am trying to make a connection, to listen for a change.

She turns around under my hands to face me. I slam my hands down into my lap immediately, and then she tells me.

God in heaven.

Scully HAD been terrified that I might have died back in that barn. The words spill out of her, her thoughts during the stand-off, her fear, and her horror at having to fire her weapon. She had not been sure at all that she would hit Lucas Buck. She had been afraid she'd hit me instead, and she would have killed me, and that would have been too much for her to bear.

I'm having an epiphany!

She looks so vulnerable, the professional, impersonal wall she has built around herself breaking apart before my eyes. I feel, God, I feel an overwhelming surge of love flooding my chest! I can hardly breath. I know the blood is rushing to my head and I can't stop it. She has been looking down at her lap and now she looks up into my eyes from under her golden lashes. My heart is hers. Take it, rip it from my heaving chest.

Please.

Like I said before - my own death is something I don't think about very much. It is why I risk my life so often, and one of the reasons I would not hesitate to die for Scully. And you know, I figured, that since I don't give a shit about my life, than no else would either. Obviously, I have been wrong on that little point. Scully cares, and I know now she has shown that caring in so many ways over the years. I have been so insulated in my own little world, too self-absorbed, selfish and obsessed to recognize the depth of her caring. And now I have hurt her - AGAIN.

geek

prick

creep

jerk

asshole

bastard

I just haven't stopped to consider her feelings often enough. Even now I'm only half listening to her. Wake up and smell the coffee you dickhead - how can I possibly be so thoughtless! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Scully..." I start to offer her comfort, and than her words hit me right between the eyes, and I am very definitely listening to her now.

"I couldn't bear it if I'd killed you," she whispers, "because I would have killed the person I care the most about, the person I trust the most," and than the real bombshell, "the man I love," she finishes quietly, her blue eyes still moist, and staring into mine.

LOVE?' I think. OhMyGodMotherMarySweetJesusThankYou, There it is! She's in love with me - and I am petrified.

Over the years I've told myself so many times - No! I've denied my true feelings for her, all my complicated and painful feelings for her. I've told myself she was a little sister substitute, a surrogate Samantha, to be teased and protected and.... and that had almost worked. But not quite. There were too many moments, especially lately, when I've felt something different towards Scully. And it certainly isn't brotherly love.

But, I've stubbornly squashed the emotions and sensations, and I've gotten good at it. They only creep out unbidden, in my wet dreams, or on nights when I've resorted to jerking off just to relieve a hard on so I can get some sleep.

And God, I'd been embarrassed thinking of Scully than. "How sick does that make me, If I'm thinking of her as a sister, and than doing this.." But of course in the back of my mind a voice says, Get a life Mulder, she's not your sister, and this proves you're only human, and I think Yeah, I guess it does, but shit, she couldn't possibly CARE for me, could she? would she? won't she?"

And now that she's said it - why am I so terrified? Because if I allow myself to love her, and she's abducted again, or hurt or God forbid, killed or ....well, I'd always think it was my fault. It's better not to get close...better to deny...better to run away from commitment... But I can't. Not any more. I know it at last.

When had I fallen in love with her? Lord, I can't pin down the moment. I began by admiring that face, early on and than, yeah, her body, hell, she makes me hard now, even though she isn't at all like the type of women I've had before - like I said. But I've come to admire her quick dry wit, her ability to argue with me, and her piercing analytical mind a hell of a lot more - she has a mind like quicksilver. She became my best friend, my only true friend, and I trust her, and no one else. I do admire her as an equal, and I depend on her, and now...maybe take her for granted? That thought stings as I look back into her eyes.

Somewhere along the line, along with the camaraderie, and trust had come love. Yes, I know it. My heart sings it. I love her - I love Dana Scully! But loving her is, well... and doubt threatens to consume me again. Risky? Would I treat her differently - be over-protective of her from now on? She'd shoot me again for that. Unprofessional? What would *they* say, the amorphous, infamous *they*, what would Skinner say, what would....But all those thoughts begin to fade as I contemplate her angelic face, golden-red hair, and piercing blue eyes.

All those thoughts traverse my mind in a matter of minutes, and the last thought I have is that I want to make those blue eyes dance more than anything in the world.

And I have to tell you that Mother Nature smiled on us at that moment. The room was as bright as broad daylight, a huge clap of thunder followed the lightening, the windows rattled, and the rain came. Both of us jumped, and Scully fell forward towards me, just enough to give me the opportunity to take her into my arms, and pull her onto my lap.

Hey, thanks, Mom!

She sighed and relaxed against my chest and I am holding her on my lap, and I rub my cheek against her hair. Oh Dear God in Heaven. Here she is, and now what do I do with her?

Please don't laugh, all right. But I need to confess something here. I confess - for most of my adult life, I have had grave doubts about my ability as a lover. I can tease and I can flirt, but when it gets right down to the nitty gritty, I always think I will never qualify for that little Spencer's Gifts gag mug that says, World's Greatest Lover, across the front. And once again who do I have to thank for that? - her highness, Phoebe Green.

Yeah, she was the first and the worst. No matter what I did with her it was never good enough. Not the new positions, or the bondage, or the menage a trois' or, well, you get the idea. One night I got a big clue that things might have been wrong, when she yelled some other guys name when she came. And then she told me she faked that anyway - so there. That woman could make your balls shrink up to the size of dried prunes, and than she'd chew them up, and spit out the pits.

So now, when I have finally found the woman of my dreams, Dana Katherine Scully, I am gravely worried that I will never be able to give her the pleasure she deserves. And let me tell you it's a real fear too, because I am out of practice at this - truly. Unless of course you count practicing on myself. And somehow I don't think that's going to help much in this situation.

Fuck Phoebe. I wish I never had.

What do I do next? What do I do...What..I know, I'll tell her how I feel about her. Inspiration!

And as I hold her close I tell her. It seems strange and difficult, at first. I feel like an idiot telling her my innermost secrets. We have always been so uptight and professional around each other. This unburdening seems somehow out of place. But you know what? As I tell her, I feel a huge weight lifting off my shoulders, and I know in my heart that I have found my true soulmate, and I will never let her go.

When I'm finally done telling her that I love her, and want her, and need her - I don't know what to do with my hands, and suddenly she just looks up into my face, takes my chin and draws me close. I think she's...<here's where my nose gets in the way?> and, oh God, oh, Lord - she kisses me.

The lips, those full lips, soft and yielding. Tentative, shy. I touch her lips with my tongue and, and she opens her mouth. I can taste her, I can taste her. My whole mouth covers hers. And she meets my tongue, and I know she is tasting me, exploring me and...Oh my God, Scully!

I want to make love to her. I have been so lonely, and so horny for so long. But the performance anxiety is still there, and I am also embarrassed over the intensity of my desire.

What if she thinks I'm crude? I'm still half afraid she won't want a physical connection with me as much as I want it, now. But God, I can respect her if she's not ready. I'll respect her if she doesn't want sex at all. I value her friendship too much and I won't risk breaking the bridge that we're building here between each other. So I hold myself in check, <it's back to calculating square roots>, and I hesitate to ask her for anything more than her tight embrace.

She pulls back and studies my face closely and she obviously sees my hesitation, and she touches my cheek.

I swear I feel an electric shock arcing from each delicate finger tip.

And she tells me it's all right, "It's all right Mulder." And her voice is suddenly husky <so sexy>. She says she wants me too, and she wants me NOW!

No more square roots are necessary.

I stare at her. I am awestruck. I CAN NOT fathom how she could want a total dickless, thoughtless, wonder like me, but I decide I am going to give her what she wants or die trying.

She smiles that enigmatic little Scully smile, and looks up at me, yes, coyly, she's flirting with me, me - Mulder, she's really flirting with me. And than, Dear God, she unbuttons her pajama top, slowly.

I know my eyes are bugging out of my head. I try not to look like a besotted pug dog, but it is difficult because I can see her round, firm, unbelievably beautiful breasts. They are perfect. They are squeezable, and her pink nipples are perky and erect. Oh boy!

But still I hesitate. I feel like some gangly, adolescent, on a first date, who gets to third base, and then forgets how to slide into home.

But Scully, God bless her, smiles and takes my hand, and places it on her breast, and then I find her nipple, it's so firm and, and....

As the rain pelts the window I know I can do this, I know, I know, I...

Oh, Jesus wept.

In the half dark I touch her breasts, and I rub her nipples and than replace my hands with my mouth. I can't stand it. She can hardly stand it. I suck and it's, it's like going back to being an infant. I never want to forget the feeling of being at her breast.

She is moaning under my tongue as I swirl it around each nipple. God, I am making her moan. Scully, please don't tell me you're faking it. But when she entwines her hands through my hair and whispers "Mulderrrr, Oh, God.." for the first time, I know she's not lying, and this is real.

I tell her I love her again, and that she has the most beautiful tits in the world, and we're sitting on the floor, and she's in my lap and she moves to straddle my legs, and we are pressed so close. I find her mouth again and we are crushed together. She is trying to swallow me. Take it all, go ahead. She sucks on my lower lip and I hear myself groaning into her mouth. Sculleeee. I can barely say her name.

By now her ass is moving against my cock and balls, and I am becoming as hard as a rock. She is really good at moving that ass, and she knows it too, because she looks into my eyes and moves it again, and I gasp.

I don't want this yet, though. I don't want to come in my jeans. I want to save this for her. So, I say, "Wait," and she raises an eyebrow but grins, and I help her to get up off me, and than I lay her down on the edge of the bed. Her legs are short but they do hit the floor, the bed is low enough - thank you Cedars Motel.

I kneel between her legs, and gently pull her pajama pants down over her hips, and she helps me by raising up and wriggling out of them - God! I shift up onto the bed, and she sits up, and I help her pull her pajama top off, and now she is nude and I, I, .. she has the body as well as the face of a Goddess. She's so small and perfect, glowing like fine china. Her legs are strong, muscled, taunt. I want to be between those legs. Oh God, Oh God Oh - I kneel back down between her knees and gently push her legs apart, and I do notice she is a natural red head. She is looking down at me and she says, "Yes, Mulder, please, I want you to...to... and she can't say it, I think, God, she is so wonderful, she's as embarrassed as I am to ask me for what she wants. And I tell her, Hey, tell, me Scully, I'm a bit out of practice at this, you know. And Lord, she smiles at me, and it's radiant, and she says, "I want your mouth."

And I give her what she wants. I taste her. Oh it's ambrosia, her wetness on my lips, my tongue. I tease her clit, and than I take it into my mouth. I can suck like a vacuum cleaner, a Hoover, when I want to, and for some reason this used to make Phoebe laugh like hell - but Scully, my Scully is not laughing, no sirree, she is writhing under my mouth. Dear Jesus, she is moaning, and one hand is at her mouth, and her breasts, and she rotates her hips, and I look up over her pubic bone and her flat stomach into her face, transformed. I am in heaven and there's an angel under my tongue.

My tongue goes into her, into her folds - into her inner self. She cries out my name, "Mulder...and something incoherent which I don't quite catch. And than I do. "Harder, please, I, God, please" and I know she is near, and I want to see her face. I shift up to lay next to her on the bed and than I replace my mouth with my hands. I work a finger up into her and than another, and she is grabbing at my chest, but she's not quite in control of her hands. I use my other hand to really rub her clit than, because she is bucking under me, she's telling me "Harder, and God, that's so good!" and than she arches under my hands and she's crying out my name and she's coming, and shaking, and I take her into my arms and hold her, and she clings to me as she spasms over and over.

It occurs to me that I have been holding my breath, and I release it and it comes out in a primal groan of lust and she opens her eyes, and looks into mine, and my heart is going to melt. Thank you, thank you, God.

Scully sits up against me and than she says, "Mulder, be fair, how about some equal time here?" And I laugh because I am still wearing my jeans and sweat shirt. She laughs too, and than I stand up, and she stands up in front of me, and she starts to undress me. Oh Mama. She pulls up my sweatshirt, and she has to stand on tip toe to get it up over my head. God what a view I get of those lovely, tight breasts. I touch a nipple and she swats my hand away, and says playfully, "Mulder, it's my turn".

God I love her.

She works at undoing the button fly jeans. Every button, slowly. I am in ecstasy, and I am concentrating really hard so that I don't shoot my wad all over those buttons. She pulls my pants down and I step out of one leg and than the other and than - oh no - MY BOXERS! Oh God, how much humiliation can a man stand? She is looking at them, but there is such a sweet look on her face, I suddenly think - hey, she thinks they're cute! And she does, she tells me they look like Frohike, Byers or Langly, had been having me on <having me on? God, she's having me, thank God, at last>, and I tell her she's right on all three counts.

She takes her hands and opens the button on the fly of the Packer Backer boxers and her little fingers insinuate their way inside and...Bliss...she is touching my cock, lightly teasing it. Oh she is good.

She takes her hand away and I can't help it, I moan. She is smiling at her power over me, and I want her to do whatever she wants to me, take me by my dick, and lead me anywhere. I thank you, again Lord, for the hundredth time tonight.

She grips the waistband of my boxers, and down they come. She steps back and I know she wants to look, and I stand there in the shadows from the bathroom light and I let her look as long as she likes. She has seen me naked before, in all the wrong, and unfortunate situations. But now, I can see she is eager to discover me under much happier circumstances. Her eyes, her bright blue eyes, they're so wild, like two argon lasers. My God, she isn't looking between my legs right away - she's shy! Oh, Scully, I love you.

She says, "Turn around, Mulder." And I do. My God, she wants to look at my ass! Oh Scully, you naughty little girl. "Very nice," she giggles. She GIGGLES. The wonder of it. I am smiling like an idiot. "All right, turn back," she whispers and I do. And than I see her eyes, and she is looking below the belt, and I hold my breath.

I suppose you've guessed by now that I'm not sure about anything, haven't you? Like I used to measure it with a ruler when I was a kid. I've just never been sure, and I'm not sure I'll measure up now, even though my cock is jutting out like a shotgun barrel - I can't help myself. I look at her, and I say it, I actually ask her in a voice that I hardly recognize as my own, Please, Scully say something, is it, I mean, am I what you thought I'd...Oh shit. I just shut my mouth and stand there, hard, and ready, and miserable. She walks over and stands close to me. She takes my penis in her hand. "Mulder," she whispers into my chest. "This is without a doubt, <and dare I hope she'll say it>, the most spectacular cock I have ever seen <YES!>. "I love the way it feels" she says, and she trails her hand from the base of me to the tip <Danger, Danger, Will Robinson!>, "you feel like hot steel covered in soft velvet" she purrs, and at that moment I would die for her the death of a thousand cuts, and she says, "I want you in me - NOW."

I am complete. My little head, as well as my big head, is about to explode. Oh fuck. Yes, I will fuck her, I will fuck, I...oh thank God.

I take her over to the bed and lay her down and she pulls me over to her. We are laying side by side and I really notice the difference in our heights. She is so small and God, vulnerable somehow, and I'm thinking, maybe I'll be too heavy for her. I mean, I'm not an over muscled hunk of meat here, but I am at least a whole head if not more, taller than her. I have a suggestion to make, so I do. Listen, Scully, would you, I mean, I don't want to crush you here, would you like it on top, and she says, "Mulder, how did you know?" and I thought, Holy shit, maybe I'm not as inept at this as I thought.

So I lay back to admire the view and God, my dick is really perpendicular <Sorry, no pun intended>, and then she straddles my thighs, just in back of my erection, and the little minx starts to play with it. Oh Scully, you animal. I thank the Doctor who circumcised me when I was a child, as Scully traces her finger around and around the tip of my cock. A little drop of come appears and she, she, takes it on her finger, and sucks it into her mouth. Oh my God. She's swallowing part of me. My breath is gone.

The attention is almost too much, and I know I am close to coming. "Scully, stop." I gasp out. My eyes are closed as I concentrate to hold back. She is very still and I am more calm, and I know I'll be able to keep it up. I smile, and nod my head to let her know it's all right. I take my hands and rub her nipples between my fingers. She is closing her eyes. I move one hand down between her legs and tease her clit, and than I rub it, and she stops my hand as well. "Not yet," she whispers and than she shifts up, and I think - Whoa, maybe I am too big for her, maybe she's not going to be able to.. and OhLordinHeavenandalltheCelestialHost, she slides down onto me and....

I'm inside her. I'm inside Dana Scully, I'm enfolded inside her wonderful, warm body. I feel so safe, so protected so, Oh thank you, God, it's wonderful. She looks down at me and sighs my name "Oh, Mulderrr," and now you know why I never want to hear that other name <the "F" name>, again. "You're so hard, Oh God, you, you feel so good, you're..." and her breath catches in a moan and, "so deep inside," and the word "inside" comes out in a gasp.

I'm telling her everything I can now. How she looks, and smells, and what it feels like to have her cunt wrapped around me. She asks me to say cunt when I stumble over the words. I can't believe she wants to talk dirty. But she's learning to, and she likes to tell me what she wants now.

"Lie still," she tells me. Oh brother, this is going be hard. I am so HARD and she is so nice and TIGHT. But I am going to give it the old college try for my Scully.

She lifts up, and than down she comes. I press my eyes tightly shut and think of anything but what's going on between my legs. She groans and for a brief second I think oh no, I've hurt her, but that is definitely not the case, because she is picking up her rhythm now and she is riding, she is riding me, and oh God her face, it's, I can't....

I put my hands up and she takes them in hers, our fingers are entwined and I can feel her arms - they're like steel! She is tight and she rocks up and down, impaled on my cock, and I support her arms as she shuts her eyes, and concentrates on every sensation between her thighs. Then she bites her lower lip, and her hands release one of mine, and I put my hand between her legs and she shakes her head YES! I have both her hands in one of mine, but my other is rubbing her clit hard now, because I know that's what she wants, and I feel her tighten around me, and oh Jesus, I'm going to come, I'm going to come, but I don't, and SHE does, Thank God. She wails. Oh, I want to hear that sound again and again, she screams out "Mulderrrr, fuck, Oh God, you bastard, I.. oh God, I love you," and I know she doesn't mean the bastard part because she's bucking all over my crotch, and you can't expect a woman to know what she's saying under those conditions.

I know that I can't hold back much longer. She is coming for me, and I know I want to come for her too. And once again, the ever perceptive and talented Scully knows it, and she says it, barely able to breath, 'Mulder, please, don't hold back, let go, I want to see you let go," and she lets me shift her onto her back and than Dear Jesus, she spreads her legs wide and her knees up high, so that I can thrust into her hard and deep. God, she is so tight, and her muscles squeeze against the length of my cock like a vice grip. I am almost beyond thought, but I do remember to support my weight on my elbows so I don't mash her under me. She is watching me with open eyes, and there is a look of wonder there that I see just before I press my lashes tight. She is holding onto my back, raking it with her nails, and then she has my ass in her hands and she's crying into my ear, "Mulder, OHMYGODTHISISSOFUCKINGGOOD, and I am really driving into her, and that's it buddy, I'm coming. There is a flare of white light behind my eyes, and I know I am going to black out. This has never happened to me before, but I know I will let it, because Scully is there, and she will hold me, and protect me, and OHFUCKSCULLY! I scream into her hair, and I erupt with the most supernatural orgasm I have ever had in my entire sex starved life. The earth does more than move, Mama, it shifts right off it's axis. I think I could shoot across the room with the way my balls are contracting - God - I do black out for just a moment. And then Scully is crying, she is crying tears of joy, and so am I. I weakly pump into her a couple more times, as I struggle to get my breathing under control, and I can't help it, and I collapse against her, into her arms.

She's strong, my Scully, because she takes all my weight. I can still feel her muscles contracting against my now limp cock, and the feeling is so rich and erotic that I gasp. She rubs my back, gently, lovingly, and kisses my neck.

I struggle to say something about the utter and endless joy that I feel at that moment. But I raise up and see her face, and she sees mine and words - well there is no need for words. I am still inside her and I never, ever, want to leave.

Later, we are laying in each others arms, together in the bed. The bed is a wreck, I fear. I will have to leave an extra large tip for that overworked maid, yes indeed. As we are laying there I think, you know the bed is really wet, and well, it's sticky too, and I hope I don't smell bad - like, did my Degree fail after all the sweating? She still smells musky and delightful, but I'm not sure eau de Mulder is as pleasant as her natural perfume. How romantic can this be for my glorious Scully? Hey, Scully I say, I have an idea. And she smiles lazily up at me and says, "What Mulder?" and I slide out of bed, pick her up <you know, she's not heavy at all>, and carry her into the bathroom. I deposit her in the pale green tiled shower stall and grab her shower gel and the water is on, warm and pulsing and I start to soap her up. She loves it, my Scully. She returns the favor and I lather, and she lathers, and I am hard again. OK, how can I go at it this soon, you ask? Well, think about it. Any guy who swims and runs as many laps as I do every week has the stamina of an ox! Enough said.

And incidentally, Scully's a runner too.

I am shampooing her hair for her. I have forgotten all about my stitches. Oh well. But, what a great feeling, her hair wet in my hands. She is laughing, "Did you ever consider becoming a hair dresser as an alternate career?" she asks. And I say, "Only if I can be your personal one," and I hasten to add that I would do anything for her now, even get down on all fours and bark like a dog if she wanted me too. And she turns around and looks up at me, rinsing out all the shampoo and she says, "Really?" and than she turns around and I get a view of her phenomenal backside. Her ass, her derriere.

A perfect butt.

She wiggles against my cock, and I look down and whoa - I can see all those glorious folds from a totally different angle. Mother! And than I can't believe what she wants. I...I would blush if the water wasn't all ready turning my skin red. I guess the bark like a dog remark went to her head. Jesus. She bends over and braces her hands against the shower stall wall, under the shower head.

Warm water sprays down between us, passing over her cunt and hitting my bobbing penis. It tickles. I hesitate. I'm not sure I want to take her this way. It seems so selfish. I ask her if she's sure because this seems a bit demeaning to me, but Scully looks around and says, "Mulder, please...I'm sure," and I gently part the folds of her cunt, and slowly push inside her. I hold her hips and thrust into her. The water is rushing over us both and she tells me she just wants me to fuck her, to get off, and enjoy it, to do it hard and fast and...God, I can't believe this, and a part of my mind says it's wrong, as I pump into her, and she's pushed up against the wall tiles. I'm trying to be gentle, but she's telling me to do it, and not to worry about it, and OHGOD, I almost don't. But, but, I can't just let her be a receptacle for my cock and my come. I cradle her waist, and then I pull out. OHGODMULDER, she cries.

Surprise!

I turn her around because I'd really rather see her face, and I lift her up and well, there's no where to put her, so we end up face to face in the bottom of the tub, laughing like hell, and I take her into my arms, and onto my lap, and then back onto me. She straddles my hips and ..OHGODITSSOGOOD... and than I find out that I may not bark like a dog, but I certainly can howl.

I'm lying in the fresh, dry bed, the one near the door, at The Cedars Motel, near Manitowoc, Wisconsin, in the dark, and the rain has stopped. Scully, cuddles close, her back against my chest. I lay my arm over her middle and turning on my side, snuggle close as well. It's a little after 5 AM now. Remember what I said about those painkillers? Well, I will be eternally glad that I did not take them last night. And you know what? Scully's eyes did dance, and my shoulder doesn't ache at all anymore, and neither does my heart.

THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY