Title: Covenants, Contracts & Restrictions Author: Suzanne Schramm (sister_suze@yahoo.com) Rating: NC-17 Classification: MSR, RST Spoilers: Arcadia (slight for One Son/Two Fathers) Summary: Missing scene from Arcadia. Night 1: they spoon like baby kittens (shyeah!). Night 2: Scully tosses Mulder out of the bedroom. Night 3: Anyone's guess. All I know is Mulder was looking pretty chipper the next morning. And Scully was acting downright wifely when she asked him to give up playing in the mud on Night 4. Disclaimer: I blame DD for this one. It's an X-File how Scully could resist that much charm in a single episode. I tried and tried to think of reasons, but in the end I decided she must succumbed off-camera. No profit is intended from this story. For Michelle: Shirtless!Mulder with glasses. I aims to please, ma'am. Many, many thanks to my betas for their time and their patience. Thanks to M for her sense of humor and sharp eye for repetition. Much gratitude and praise goes to Laney whose suggestions on characterization made all the difference. Most of all I need to thank my renegade beta, Susanne, who went the extra mile through numerous drafts of this story. Under her perspicacious guidance, being beta'd is the best part of writing. *** Covenants, Contracts & Restrictions Part 1/3 *** Mulder is certain this case really is an X-File. Never one to second-guess my partner (on a good day anyway), I'm still hesitant to agree with him on this one. The house is only six years old and it creaks and groans as it settles on its foundations. Someone else was in the house tonight. That violation has me on edge, wondering if they're coming back. I flop onto my stomach and glare at the alarm clock. 11:48 p.m. Nearly midnight and I'm nowhere near falling asleep. Downstairs a door shuts, the faint sound reverberating across my nerves. I push myself up and move quickly to the bureau drawer to get my gun. Outside my room I lean towards the stairwell, listening for anything. "Mulder?" I call out. No one answers. I can see light coming from the living room but there's no sound. Maybe Mulder fell asleep with the lamp on again. I tiptoe down the stairs and peer around the corner into the living room. There's no one there. A blanket is still neatly folded at one end of the couch with a pillow atop it. The tv is on but the sound is off. I hold my breath and listen but all I can hear is my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. "Mulder?" I try again. He still doesn't answer. A scratching sound comes from the kitchen and I whirl in that direction. There's a soft 'snick' and I flatten myself against the wall, sliding the safety to off. I can sense someone else, just around the corner. The hair stands up on the back of my neck when they stop moving. They're waiting, just like me. I take a slow deep breath and push off the wall, leading with my gun as I come around the corner. A hand grabs my wrist, yanking me against the wall hard enough that I almost drop my weapon. "Jesus, Scully!" Mulder lets go of me and lowers the gun he had raised. He looks as agitated as I feel. He's wearing flannel plaid pajama bottoms without a shirt and his hair is still damp from his shower. "Are you still pissed off about the toilet seat?" "I heard something downstairs and you didn't answer." I slide the safety back on, my hands shaking with adrenaline. "I think we're living in a fishbowl here, Scully. Someone's watching us." Mulder brushes past me towards the living room. "There are footprints in the flowerbeds beneath our windows." "Do you think it's the same person who's been cleaning up after you?" I turn to follow him. "Could be." Mulder looks down at me, his eyes tracing the dip of my neckline momentarily - or maybe I just imagined that. I should have put my robe on. "I'm glad you're still awake. Let me run something past you." He sits on the couch and sets his gun down. He puts on his glasses and points to the thick binder of The Falls' Covenants, Contracts and Restrictions that lies open on the coffee table. "I think I've found a loophole in the rules here." I sit down next to him, setting my gun next to his. "What did you find?" His pillow begins to slide off the blanket towards me and I impatiently push it back with my elbow. "Here." He taps his finger on the page the book was opened to. "Read this section on landscaping." "No manmade materials are allowed for ornamentation with the exception of carved stone, provided it does not exceed 36" in height or 24" in width," I read aloud and then shake my head. "What's the loophole?" "There's nothing in there about depth." His knee nudges mine playfully. "I think we need a reflecting pool, Laura." Is he flirting with me again? He's been a different man since we pulled up in front of this house and I'm at a loss knowing how to deal with him. I've tried ignoring him, playing along and even calling his bluff, yet he still persists in stretching the boundaries of familiarity between us. "Mulder, we already talked about this. A forensic excavation needs a little finesse. You have to sift and catalog. Photograph and..." His arm reaches across me, grazing my breast in the process, and I sit back, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the presence of this much naked male flesh. He must have shaved after his shower because he smells deliciously like aftershave. He grabs the pillow, which has started to slide again, and tosses it to the floor with casual disregard. "We need something to get the ball rolling here, Scully. Once we find the Kleins the jig will be up and then we can start sifting." A glance at his face reveals that it's smooth. Heat creeps across my cheeks. Why the hell do I care whether he shaved or not? I look back down at the CC&R's and focus on his plan. "My concern is that we might inadvertently destroy the evidence in the process." I wonder why he rarely wears his glasses anymore, though I suppose I should be grateful he doesn't. There's something enticing and foreign about him with the glasses on. I look around the room, mentally shifting again to why we're really here. I catch sight of the window and see he's left the blinds raised. "Were you planning on sleeping in the limelight tonight?" I ask. Mulder turns to look as well. "What? You don't want the neighbors knowing you aren't getting any?" I walk over to the window, but can't see outside. "Turn off the light for a minute." His reflection moves behind mine, and the living room goes dark. The backyard is empty. I reach for the cord to pull the blinds shut. "Don't close them yet," he cautions. "It may come by again." "Whoever it is, Mulder, I think they're gone for the night." I close the blinds and walk over to the coffee table to retrieve my weapon. "Maybe." He sounds distracted. "Maybe?" I pause on my way to the front door and look in the direction of his voice. Only the glint off his glasses gives away his position by the couch. "I don't think the person watching us intends to hurt us." He still sounds lost in thought. I check the lock on the front door. We're as safe as Weiss' locksmiths can make us. "But you think someone else will be stopping by later?" He doesn't answer, so I start up the stairs. "Scully?" he calls as I reach the second floor landing. I lean over the rail and look down at him. "Yes?" "This is a big community, there must be over a hundred homes in the subdivision. It would be hard for someone to keep track of everyone and all of the rules. Yet, based on the Schroeders' behavior tonight, I'd say they expected their broken light would be noticed immediately. So either they're all spying on each other or we're dealing with some kind of entity that can be everywhere at once." "Omnipotent garbage?" Did I really miss the X-Files? Just when I think Mulder's exhausted his repertoire, he comes up with something new. "Maybe not garbage, that's just secondary since it moves through the ground. But definitely omnipotent." Mulder climbs the stairs as he talks. "Let's just suppose for the sake of argument that you're right." I lean against the banister and wait for him to catch up. "What are you getting at?" "I'm saying that it's not going to matter whether the doors are locked or the blinds are pulled. This entity already knows what's going on. It's going to come down to whether we are able to reveal it before it gets us." "Then you might as well keep the blinds shut." I head for the bedroom. He follows right behind me. I feel the smallest tickle of unease run down my spine. "It's not the view that worries me. It's our attitude." "*Our* attitude?" I turn around in the doorway and face him. "You said last night I fit in perfectly here. If you're going to be worried about anyone..." "From what I've been able to glean, Mrs. Klein was an ideal neighbor." He's only a couple of feet away, and I have the distinct feeling he knows I'm becoming uncomfortable with his proximity. "And Mr. Klein wasn't?" I watch him warily, trying to decipher his mood. His eyes are hooded, but the set of his jaw is almost angry. Mulder shrugs. "We stand or fall together, Scully." What is he getting at? Is he questioning whether I'd back him up? "We always have." Something softens in his features and my stomach flutters. "So what do you propose? Are you going to start playing by the rules?" I want to cross my arms, but I don't know what I'd do with my gun. Mulder makes a face. "Let's not be drastic. I have a favor to ask you." "What?" His eyes darken. Whatever it is, it's a serious favor. "Loosen up." I gape at him and he hurries to explain. "What are the odds of our ever getting an assignment like this again? I'd just like to see you enjoy it more." Enjoy it more? I have this sick feeling that all these years Mulder has thought me a humorless bitch. "This isn't summer camp, Mulder. This is our job." "You're being so aloof. You aren't really getting into the spirit of undercover work here." "What are you saying?" What is he saying? Is he saying I can't act natural around him? He's half-naked and I'm without a robe, and he's telling me I need to loosen up? "I'm saying I already feel married to you, Scully. For years now I've been getting most of the drawbacks of married life with very few of the benefits. Just once, when it's actually an imperative that we be a couple, I'd like to see the other side of Dana Scully. Or Laura Petrie, if you prefer." This is even more amazing than the idea of all-seeing refuse. Married to me? In what way? I'm not sure whether I should be pissed off or flattered. What side of me does he think he hasn't seen? After almost seven years he's seen damn near every side there is to Dana Scully. "I'm not talking about you sleeping with me." He holds up one hand as if to forestall that train of thought. "I'm talking about you mellowing out a little when we're out of the public eye. Our lives may actually depend on it." "Asking you not to squeeze the toothpaste in the middle of tube is prohibited in the CC and R's?" Damn him - I can actually hear myself becoming shrill. "Not exactly. Displays of anger and discord are. We can't fight loud enough for the neighbors to hear." "Mulder, you're the one picking a fight here." I pitch my voice low and try to make it affable. Inside I'm seething. Is this one of the drawbacks? Does he think I intentionally argue with him? "No, I'm trying to prevent one." He gestures beyond me to the bedroom. "Are you going to nag me day in and day out the whole time we're here? We used to be friends, Scully. Why can't you at least pretend that you enjoy my company?" "Good night, Mulder." I step back and shut the door between us. Since when have I nagged him day in and day out? At what point did I make him feel like I didn't enjoy his company? Used to be friends? This is me, Mulder. Get used to it. *** It's been nearly an hour since I slammed the door on Mulder. Let me amend that. I didn't *slam* the door, I shut it. But the effect was the same. I shouldn't feel the least bit guilty about it - and I don't. But I do feel bad. Which is an entirely different thing from guilty. Completely and utterly different. My body feels heavy and drugged, but my mind keeps spinning, albeit a little more slowly with each passing minute. Why did the Schroeders feel their broken light would be noticed immediately? Mulder may be on to something with his offhand remark about the neighbors spying on each other. Someone is watching us, that's for certain. I've also been trying to puzzle out what the hell Mulder meant when he said I needed to loosen up. Did I or did I not cozy up next to him on Gogolak's couch? I can still feel the solid length of his body against my right side, as if he were some phantom limb I lost along the way. I have no idea what I'll say to Mulder in the morning. I have no idea what he even wants me to say. I don't understand him or his approach to this case. I don't understand why he feels that our enforced residence together means we should be sitting up playing pinochle all night. Or whatever it is he feels he isn't getting from me. Somewhere at the back of my exhausted brain I feel a twinge, but I'm too tired to process it. I burrow my head into the pillow, weary of thinking. Once again I get an uneasy feeling but this time it's more pronounced. I'm not alone in the room. I roll over and then sit up abruptly. There's a darkened form, no, make that Mulder, on the other side of the room. "Shhhhhh," he cautions me before I can even hiss at him. He's looking out the window and I go from aggravated to worried in half a second. "Is someone out there?" I whisper. "Mmmm, I can't tell. I thought maybe I'd get a better angle from up here but I think they're gone now." "Who was it?" "Same thing I saw earlier," Mulder steps away from the window. "Just a big dark blob." I heave a sigh, whether it's of relief or resignation is anyone's guess, and flop back onto the bed. "A blob," I repeat unenthusiastically. "A big dark one. Could have been a person." He starts across the room to leave and then stops. "Hey, Scully?" "Yes?" "About what I said earlier - it came out entirely wrong." He stops speaking and I push myself up on one elbow to show him that I'm interested in hearing whatever he's trying to say. "You seem so distant lately. I guess I'm just looking for a way back in." "Back in where?" "Back into your good graces, I suppose. You don't seem to be having fun anymore, Scully. Not just on this assignment, but in general. It worries me." I say nothing, digesting this bit of news. I'd argue with him but what if there's some truth in his statement? Or maybe I just don't want to fight anymore tonight. "Good night," he whispers, heading in the direction of the door again. "Mulder, wait." He stops, half-turning in my direction. "Why did you say you already felt married to me?" He sighs, but doesn't answer. "You said there were benefits and drawbacks? What did you mean by that?" Mulder touches the end of the bed. "May I?" "Be my guest." I push myself up against the headboard, crossing my legs and hugging a pillow to my chest. Mulder perches hesitantly on the edge of the mattress. "We've been together for so long, Scully, which is definitely a good thing, don't get me wrong. I know there are days when I irritate you and vice versa. It just seems like those days come around more often than they used to. On both our parts. I thought this assignment would be fun. This could be our chance to wink at the Establishment. I guess I'm just disappointed that you turned out to be the Establishment." I don't know what to say to him. It's true we've both had shorter fuses lately. Ever since our argument in front of the Gunmen there has been a polite distance between us. Still smarting from his dismissal of my opinions, I've been ignoring his overtures of friendship. My stomach tightens unhappily - we used to be friends. "I think the loss of the X-Files put a strain on us that we're still working through," I offer. Mulder sits more heavily on the bed, bracing his arms on his knees. He clears his throat but doesn't speak. He never did put on a shirt and the moonlight paints dark blue shadows across the muscles of his back. "So, maybe now that we have them back, we can try and get rid of some of this tension," I continue after a brief silence. "I'll try to lighten up if you'll try to take this case seriously." Mulder turns his head and smiles at me. "Deal. But you have to promise not to wear that mud mask again." I almost laugh aloud, remembering how he recoiled when I came out of the bathroom with the mask on. "It couldn't have been too awful or you wouldn't have made a pass at me." Mulder chuckles. "Scully, if I had really made a pass at you, I wouldn't be sleeping on the couch." "Good night, Mulder." I stretch my right leg out and poke at him with my toes to get him moving. "Or were you trying to make another pass at me?" "Do you want me to?" His hand captures my foot before I can withdraw it. I start to pull away but his fingers tighten. "This isn't a pass," he reassures me as his thumb rubs small circles into my arch. I'd argue with him but that feels exquisite. I'll give him one minute and then he's couch fodder. "Here," his other hand closes over my ankle, urging me closer. "Just let me do something nice for you." I slide down, feeling an almost forgotten kind of lethargy settle over me. He releases my ankle to use both hands to massage my foot. Then he turns sidewise with one leg tucked beneath him and the other over the side of the bed. I bite my lip as his thumb presses down in a spot that makes my toes curl involuntarily. "You gonna loosen me up?" "Something like that." Mulder gives a soft laugh and my toes curl again. "When I touch you here, you should feel it in your shoulders." He applies pressure beneath my little toe and I let out a small moan. "Reflexology," I try to talk away the haze that's starting to surround my brain. "An ancient healing art practiced by the Chinese and Egyptian cultures, among others. They observed that congestion or tension in any part of the foot mirrors congestion or tension in a corresponding part of the body. Thus, when you treat the big toe there is a related effect in the head." "So tell me, Dr. Scully, do you think reflexology is a serious science? Or do you consider it pseudoscience on the same level as, say, phrenology?" Mulder sets my heel down on his leg and reaches for my left foot. I should stop him, probably. "It would certainly seem to be a complementary approach to well being," I hedge as he gently kneads my left arch. "It's non-invasive and doesn't present any risk when used as a therapeutic tool. But if you think that you can heal by reflexology alone you'd be sadly mistaken." God, that feels great. I might be wrong - another five minutes of this and he could heal at least a year's worth of Mulder-related frustration. He works his thumb across my heel. "What about this?" he asks. "Where do you feel that?" "Just my foot." I giggle, but that's only because I'm tired. "Where am I supposed to feel it?" "That's a direct line to your sciatic nerve." "No kidding?" My right foot is still against his thigh. I'd move it away but I'm enjoying the soft feel of his pajamas against my newly sensitized toes. "I had no idea you were an expert in the field." "How about here?" He massages the base of my instep and I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Still just my foot. I don't think it's really working." I let go of the pillow I've been holding. Moonlight glints off the wedding band on my finger and I hold my hand up to inspect it. "Mmmm. I guess not. That's supposed to be your bladder." He continues rubbing a circle there and I can't stop myself from giggling again. "Are you trying to make me wet the bed? Whatever happened to sticking someone's hand in warm water?" My hand drops. The unfamiliar weight of the ring has made me feel off-balance the past few days. Right now it's making me feel off-balance in an entirely different way. Married to Mulder - it's an absurd thought. Isn't it? "I'll test that hypothesis later." He paints gentle strokes down the pad of my foot. "No, that's okay." I close my eyes, aware of the intimate rasp of his wedding ring against my skin. What is happening between us? I don't usually feel this susceptible to Mulder's charm. Of course, usually we don't spend our nights together while he wanders around shirtless and flirts with me. I miss him. I miss the easy friendship we shared. "What about there? Where's that supposed to be?" I ask, the words feeling thick in my mouth. "Here?" His fingers softly caress just below where I asked him about. "This is your heart." Something in his voice traces over my heart and sets off a swift chain reaction. Palpable heat flies across my abdomen and my nipples contract. My eyes open and I sit up, pulling both of my legs close to my chest where I can put my arms around them and ignore the way they still tingle. I'm grateful the dark disguises the flush on my face. "Scully?" I wish he didn't sound so amused. I wish he hadn't succeeded in loosening me up. I feel confused, like I've lost something. He scoots up the bed a couple of feet and my heart starts pounding with anticipation. My god, I think I'm actually hoping he is making a pass at me. Mental note to me: Don't ever let Mulder touch your feet again. "Can I ask you something, Scully?" "What?" I hug my legs tighter. "Was that against the rules?" "What rules?" My skin can still feel his touch - that has to be against the rules. "Our rules. The covenants, contracts and restrictions that exist between us. I just want to know if I stepped over the line." He moves even closer, his weight dipping the mattress and shifting me towards him. Another slide starts inside me, hot and wet. "I don't think you did," I finally manage as my mind chants 'liar, liar, liar'. "That seemed innocent enough." "Then I was doing it wrong," he says. I can feel my blood singing in my ears. I don't care if he is my partner. I don't care if he does annoy the hell out of me. At this moment all I can think about is the way he touched me. What if he never tries to get this close again? "What were you trying to do?" My voice has turned to a parched whisper. "Maybe you did it right after all." Please Mulder, don't just be flirting with me. This is serious. We used to be friends. His fingers brush over my cheek. His other hand braces itself on top of the headboard as he rises to half-kneel in front of me. "Tell me if I do this right," his breath puffs against my lips and I close my eyes. Then his lips touch mine and the rulebook disappears. *** Mulder barely kisses me. After the initial shock wears off, I start hoping he'll do better. This is nice but I was expecting something a little more... passionate. Something more than the almost hesitant kisses he's giving me. Of course, he is half-kneeling near the edge of the bed while I sit protectively hunched over. It feels awkward everywhere but where our lips are touching. I give up the death grip on my legs and put one hand on the back of his neck. Just as my fingers are inching into his hair, he breaks the kiss. "I don't think we're doing this right." "We?" I ask. The bed's low headboard is digging into my back so maybe that came out more tersely than I meant it to. I shift to my left. "Good idea, move over a little." Mulder touches my arm to prompt me towards the center of the bed. I start to move, but end up on a pillow. By now I've had time to process what he's actually asking for - room on the bed. The bed. Bed. Mulder in my bed. My heart goes tachycardic. Do I really want Mulder to turn passionate on me? Then again, as he pointed out, what are the odds of our ever being in this situation a second time? Mulder reaches behind me and throws my pillow to the floor. I briefly wonder if there's some kind of psychological meaning behind his impatience with pillows. Then his hand returns to the back of my neck and I don't care what his opinion on eiderdown is. I kneel so that we're even, willing to give him another shot. He doesn't take it. Instead he inches closer until our knees are touching. His thumb starts making small circles just below my hairline, but he still doesn't kiss me. Damn him, he'd better not be having second thoughts. I take a breath and lean forward, bracing my hands on his knees. I give his lower lip a few soft tugs. His lips part but he doesn't kiss me back. "I thought you were going to kiss me." Again, that came out more tersely than I meant it to. "Nag, nag, nag," he whispers against my lips. Oh, he is *this* close to sleeping on the couch. He offers me a small kiss, his lips lingering against mine for a few seconds. Then his tongue gives my lower lip a short stroke. Heat slides down my spine, pooling between my legs. I open my mouth to him and his tongue slips in to stake its claim. He paints slow deliberate strokes as he explores me. I need to be closer to him. My hands rise to his shoulders and I'm delighted all over again that he's not wearing a shirt. I try to pull him closer without breaking the kiss but instead I throw us both off-balance. There's a loud crack as we fall against the headboard. "Ow!" we both exclaim. "Wait. Dammit, move for a second." I'm trapped between him and headboard. This actually wouldn't be such a bad thing if my elbow didn't throb. Mulder complies and I throw the remaining pillow to the floor so that it's out of the way. I think I understand why he does it now. There's something to be said for the sheer abandon of pillow tossing. He moves closer so that our foreheads are touching, his nose bumping against mine as he puts his arm around me. "This is better." He doesn't sound so sure. My hand traces his vertebrae, then cups his shoulder blade as he settles more heavily against me. "You want to try that again?" I ask, giving his upper lip a soft kiss. "You gonna do it right this time?" he teases. I slide my leg over his hip. "Are you nagging me now, Mulder?" He kisses me instead. There is a momentary clash of tongue and teeth before he welcomes me into his mouth. His tongue gives mine little strokes of encouragement as I map out the curve of his teeth. I roll on top of him so I can kiss him deeply. Mulder's hands stroke across my back. I shift at his gentle urging and he groans into my mouth. I prolong the contact, feeling him becoming stiff against my hip. His fingers lace through my hair as his mouth leaves mine to kiss my throat. Our breathing is becoming erratic, both of us letting out small gasps and groans. Mulder nips at my collarbone, then traces the scalloped edge of my pajama top with his tongue. His hand drifts over my breast. It must be some kind of reverse reflexology because I feel an electric jolt all the way to my toes. What are we doing here? I pull away, trying to catch my breath. Are we moving too fast here? How loose does he want me to be? "Hey," Mulder's hand slides under the back of my shirt. "Come back down here." He props himself up on his elbow as I retreat a little further. "Wait." I put my hand on his chest. My head feels fuzzy. I'm not up to making such a momentous decision right now. I should send him back downstairs. But god, his mouth. His hands. This is right, I tell myself. Mulder is usually right when he points us in an extreme direction. Do I trust him enough to make the leap with him? I take a deep breath and unbutton my top button. Mulder's breath hitches and then he goes still. Neither of us moves for a few heartbeats. Then I unbutton the next button. He sits up, but doesn't touch me. My eyes focus on his lips. They're parted, his bottom lip swollen and moist from our kisses. There are two buttons left when Mulder reaches out to touch my collarbone. I know he must feel the way my pulse jumps. His hand moves, his fingers gliding over my sternum, stopping just above my navel. He lays his hand flat against my stomach and then slides it to my ribs, his thumb lying just beneath my left breast. After I shrug my top off, his thumb lightly grazes the underside of my breast. I rise up on my knees and lean forward to kiss him. "Be careful this time," he murmurs. "Remember, no sudden movements." I push him backwards and straddle him. "I'll show you some sudden movement, Mulder." "Oh, promise me." He laughs and settles his hands on my hips. I can see his face now. His eyes are watching my breasts in a way that makes my nipples stand out to entice him. I lean down so that my skin touches his. The sparse patch of hair on his chest tickles briefly against my breasts. Then he rolls us, pressing me into the mattress for a moment before he lifts to support his weight on his arms. "That was a sudden movement," I point out. "Yeah, but no one got hurt this time." He kisses my shoulder softly, his lips curving into a smile. I gasp when his fingers find my breast. His hand smoothes over me, fitting me into his palm. He places an open-mouthed kiss in the hollow of my throat. He gives my breast a gentle squeeze and I tilt my head back, arching a little to encourage him. His eyelashes tickle against my skin as his lips move slowly downward. I slide my hands along his back, delighting in the play of sinew and muscle just beneath the surface of his skin. My fingers brush over the short hairs on the nape of his neck just as his mouth closes over my breast. "Ahhh." It's all I can say when his tongue finds my nipple. Mulder's fingers play over one breast as his mouth tugs at the other. His touch is gentle, even reverent, and I realize that this isn't just sex or a one-night stand. Mulder is making love to me. I tighten my arms around him and kiss the top of his head, overwhelmed. This is the man who has challenged me and infuriated me for years. He has saved my life, often at the risk of his own. This same man has cried in my arms and held me through my own tears. He is my best friend. Is this what Mulder meant when he said he felt married to me? Over the years I have lost myself, little by little, to various lovers. I had closed myself off, thinking that would keep me whole. Since we began working together I have been lulled into complacency by all the restrictions we've placed on ourselves. I had thought that I was safe, if that's the right word for it. Without recognizing it, I have gradually lost pieces of myself to Mulder even though we weren't lovers. I realize now that I have earned little bits of him, even as I gave myself away. Mulder must sense my thoughts, for he glances up. I give him a watery smile and he rises to kiss me, his lips lingering against mine sweetly. "I know," he whispers. My thumb traces along his bottom lip, sealing in the promise I just made. All of me. All my heart. "I think it's time I did something nice for you, Mulder." Mulder's smile is wide. "You gonna give reflexology a try?" "Something like that." I push on his shoulder lightly and he rolls onto his side. I kiss him, our tongues mating while our hands explore each other like curious children. My finger traces around his navel and his muscles tighten beneath my touch. I loosen the drawstring on his pajamas. My fingers inch beneath the fabric of his boxers, sliding to his hip and then around, over his ass. Mulder's breath hitches, his hand stroking up my back. Down further to the crease of his thigh, over the hollow of his hip, then back to his buttock again. My fingers slide down and then between. He jumps a little as I lightly stroke over his scrotum. He draws an inquisitive line along the top of my pajama pants. My thumb makes soft circles on the papery skin of his testes. "Where do you feel that, Mulder?" He shifts his legs to give me better access. "Everywhere." "Then I must be doing it right." I cup him, testing the weight of his balls in my palm. "Mmmmmmm." His hand slips beneath my pajamas, lightly squeezing my left cheek. My hand drifts over his hip to encircle his penis. He feels heavy against my fingers, the skin heated and taut as his body readies itself to penetrate mine. After a few slow strokes along the length of him he pushes into my fist. I tense my fingers slightly, letting him have some pressure. Each pump into my hand sends a new rush of anticipation for the raw power I'm holding. His fingers slide further down, the tips of them just brushing between my legs before he gives me another squeeze. He flexes them in time to the rhythm his cock and my fist have set. He's become so thick in my hand, my fingers can only circle the head of him. His fingers creep under the crotch of my panties and I wrap my leg over his. He barely brushes over my clit and I gasp, tightening my grip on him. His mouth covers mine in a demanding kiss and his rhythm into my hand turns sloppy. A finger circles me, pressing gently and sliding in the tiniest bit. My tongue moves fiercely into his mouth, showing him what I want. Two fingers, thicker than mine, push deep inside me. We break the kiss, both of us panting heavily. Then his fingers begin imitating the movement of his hips. They stroke almost out and then in. Almost out and then in. He curls them slightly, stretching me with every stroke out. I arch against him, needing to be closer. "Mulder, I have to," I don't finish the thought, instead I let go of him and tug at his pajama bottoms. He releases me, rolling onto his back to swiftly pull his clothes off. I do the same, titillated by the smell of sex already heavy in the air. Mulder starts to sit up, reaching for me, but I straddle his thighs and he goes back down like a felled redwood. Most of him anyway. Other parts of him are still stiffly at attention. I take him in my hand again, holding him steady as I kneel above him. His hands smooth over my hips and slide down, coming to rest just above the backs of my knees. The head of him brushes against me as I try to center myself. I press down, holding him steady as the tip prods and then penetrates. Thick delicious pressure radiates from between my legs. I slide down a little further and the tight tension increases. There are some advantages to an eight year dry spell in your sex life. I raise myself off him and Mulder makes a soft disappointed sound. His hands travel up the back of my legs until they rest low on my spine. "You gonna make me beg?" His voice has become husky and my legs shake a little. "You told me 'no sudden movements'." I inch forward a bit - this should be the right angle. "Since when do you listen to me?" "Mulder, I can listen to you without having to agree." I hover over him, enjoying the way his body strains towards mine. "God," he groans. "Check the CC and R's. There has to be something in there about protracted sexual torture." "You think the neighbors are watching?" I take him in the first couple of inches and he barks out a laugh. "I hope they're taping it." His hands urge me the rest of the way down. I comply, ignoring my body's inner resistance. It briefly feels as if I'm splitting apart - that Mulder has finally succeeded in splintering me. Then the sensation mellows and all I feel is content. It's as if all those little pieces of me I've lost to Mulder have just been returned. I rise until only the tip of him is still part of me. Then I sink, taking in all of him as he lifts his hips to greet me. We move in tandem with long slow strokes. Our hands soothe over each other, continuing their exploration. Mulder's nipples turn into small stiff spikes under my fingers. His abdominal muscles bunch and ripple as his hips rise and fall. His lips chase mine when I bend to kiss his cheeks and chin. The angle deepens when I straighten up. Our pace becomes shorter and a little faster. My fingers reach behind me, stroking up the inside of his thigh. Mulder's head tosses restlessly when I cup his balls again. I juggle them slightly and he shivers beneath me. Holding him gently in my palm, I take two fingers and massage his perineum. Mulder groans, shuddering beneath me. I feel drunk with pleasure and power. One finger skates around his anus and he bucks beneath me. "How about this, Mulder? Is this against the rules?" "You're a ba-aa-aa-aahh-aad girl," he pants, his words made choppy by our rhythm. "You think?" I slow our pace, my hand giving a gentle squeeze to his testes before I release them. "I think it suits you." One hand at the base of my neck urges me down for a slow deep kiss. How is it I never kissed him before tonight? Mulder surges beneath me, pushing himself up to sit. I put my arms around him, resting atop his thighs. He holds me, his hands softly touching my shoulders. Then his arms tighten, squeezing me closer. "I love you," he murmurs. His voice is as solemn as the first time he said those words to me, after he was fished out of the sea. But this time his declaration doesn't frighten me. I lean back in his embrace, touching his cheek softly where the moon highlights it. I swallow, the gravity of the covenant I am making is dizzying. "I love you." I kiss him, trembling a little as the depth of my feelings for him hits me full force. Mulder's lips gently press against my cheeks, my nose and my forehead. His tenderness undoes me, I have never felt so cherished. I rest my forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the musky scent of his skin. Mulder starts to shift us backwards, towards the headboard. I'm about to tell him that it's too low to lean against for support but he lifts me slightly, urging me to start moving again. After a couple of strokes he pushes away from the headboard. "Ow, damn! No, that won't work. Next time we go undercover, I'm asking for a better fucking bed." I stifle a snicker against his shoulder, trying to decide if he meant that as an adjective or an adverb. Both probably. "Are you laughing at me?" He lays us sideways, slipping out of me. "No, not you." This isn't a good time to tell him I'm the one who picked out this bed from the Bureau's San Diego warehouse. How the hell was I to know? I roll onto my back and his legs edge between mine. I wrap my legs around his hip as he slides back inside me. He braces his arms on either side of me, his hips moving slowly. He increases his pace gradually until he established a steady rhythm. He drops down, supporting himself on one elbow as his arm slips under the small of my back. He thrusts a little harder, tilting my hips towards his. I can feel the tension rising in his body. I draw my knees up until they're almost pressed to my shoulders. Mulder grunts his satisfaction when the angle becomes tighter than before. My knees grip his ribs and my arms loop over his neck as I give myself over to his frenzied thrusts. He drives deeply, giving me a shimmering preview of the orgasm I can feel building. I whimper, twisting my hips to encourage him. "No?" He slows a little. "Yes. God, don't stop now. That was a yes." My muscles convulse, trying desperately to keep him right there, right there, right there. "Oh shit, Scully," he groans and thrusts harder, winning out against my inner hold. I let out a hoarse cry as his pelvic bone hits me in the perfect spot. I grapple frantically at his slick back and he pounds recklessly into me. He moans thickly, burying his face into my neck. "There!" I gasp as he bumps again and again against my clit. "Oh god, please, there." I strain up against him, shuddering violently as my whole body goes up in a flare of white-hot pleasure. When my mind recovers Mulder is half on top of me, his body slack. I slip from beneath him, feeling as if my body has liquefied and I've been poured out on the sheets. Mulder's hand flops, searching halfheartedly for me when I sit to look around for something to wipe us up with. My pajama bottoms are still at the bottom of the bed, they'll do. "Hey, Mulder. Roll over," I shake his shoulder gently. "I can't," he mumbles. "God, I'm getting old." He rolls over anyway, a contented smile on his face. "You gonna change the sheets now, too?" "We only brought one set." He opens one eye. "Scully, don't you usually plan for every eventuality?" "Tell me you saw this coming." I toss away the pajamas and move over him to lie down on the clean sheet side. Mulder snuggles up behind me, wrapping me in his arms. "If I had seen this coming, we'd have whipped cream in the refrigerator." I lace my fingers through his. "No food in bed, Mulder." "Awww, Scully. Breaking the rules is fun." His foot catches the blanket, kicking it to where he can grab it to cover us. There are many reasons why rules should be followed, but I'm too depleted to point them out to him. I wonder if that would count as nagging if I did? Aw hell, we're married, I can nag. My mouth opens in a yawn and I decide it can wait until morning. I'll have to get up earlier than him, unless I want to find a hole in our front yard. I have a feeling I should save my strength. *** End *** Feedback will be packed and taken home with me. sister_suze@yahoo.com