From: kayscar@aol.com (KayScar) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Comfort" NC-17 Date: 24 Apr 1995 11:16:03 -0400 Rated NC-17 for adult sexual situations and the occasional naughty word. (Bite me, Senator Exon!) If the idea of a Mulder/Scully romance-thang upsets you, turn back now. Oh, I almost forgot...Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and The X-Files are the property of Chris Carter/Ten Thirteen Productions/Fox Broadcasting, yadda yadda yadda. "Comfort" By Kay S. (KayScar@aol.com) She heard the scream and went from sleep to wakefulness with a painful jolt. Scully sat up in bed, heart pounding, mouth dry. Realization swept over her, and she shoved the covers aside, not bothering to put on her robe or turn on any lights. She felt her way down the short hall, pushing open the door to her spare bedroom. "Mulder?" she said softly. She turned on the bedside lamp. Mulder was tangled in the sheets, curled tightly on his side. She could tell from his rapid-fire breathing that he wasn't awake yet. She eased onto the edge of the bed and carefully smoothed one hand down the rigid plane of his back. "Mulder, wake up. You're dreaming." He came awake with a jerk, flinching from her touch, eyes wide and dark and fixed. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat. "It's Scully," she soothed. "It's okay. You're at my place. Remember?" Some of the blankness left his gaze. He rubbed his face, pushed a hand through his hair, and gazed at the tangled knot of sheets. "What----what did I do?" "You were shouting," she replied. "Bad dream, huh?" "I don't think I have any other kind, Scully." He tugged at the sheets, plucked at his damp t-shirt. "Shit. I'm sorry I woke you," he added miserably. "This wasn't a good idea, huh?" "Don't say that," she admonished. "I wanted you to stay tonight, Mulder. We've been through hell these last few days." She gave in to the urge to brush the dark hair out of his eyes. He leaned into her touch briefly, his eyes slipping shut, dark lashes a fan against his cheek. her conscience piped up. Scully blew her conscience a mental raspberry. "Can I use your shower again?" Mulder asked. "I feel like crap." "It'll cost you a quarter," she replied lightly. "Put it on my tab." Scully watched him go, frowning over the way his shoulders slumped. We need a vacation, she thought. A long one. her conscience snickered. Scully aimed an imaginary slingshot at her conscience. With one ear trained on the sound of her running shower, she stood up and began to untangle the sheets. How he'd managed not to strangle himself with the top sheet was beyond her. She plumped the pillows and rearranged the sagging comforter. No. No. Oh, shut up. Mulder swiped at his wet hair. Fuck it. He was too tired to mess with it. He hung up his towel, hitched up his sagging sweatpants, and opened the bathroom door. No light spilled out in the hallway from Scully's room. Had she gone back to bed? He sighed, tamped down another stab of guilt. He should have declined her invitation to stay overnight. It wasn't fair to let his damned nightmares keep *her* awake. He padded down the hall to the spare room, intending to slip into his clothes and catch a cab back to his apartment. The idea died when he caught sight of Scully curled up on his bed, her hair a bright tumble against the cream-colored sheets. Her breathing was even and quiet. He tiptoed over and turned off the bedside lamp. "Get into bed, Mulder." "Christ, Scully, you scared me. I thought you were asleep." He sat on the edge of the bed. "I should go home." "No." Her firm tone caught him by surprise. A rusty-sounding laugh burst out of him. "Oh yeah? What are you gonna do? Tie me to the bed?" "That's not a bad idea," she said in a fair imitation of his languid tone. "You've been around me too long, Scully," he remarked, glad for the darkness that hid his flush...and his body's reaction to her throaty teasing. Her warm hand on his leg told him otherwise. He felt her sit up, felt her other hand touch his cheek, his jaw. When her lips brushed his ear, goosebumps raced along his skin. Mulder closed his eyes, swaying into her warmth. Her mouth brushed his neck, his cheek, his temple, and he turned his head towards her, blindly seeking, needing...oh God, her mouth against his...This wasn't the half-shy kiss beneath the mistletoe at Christmastime. The sweet push of her tongue into his mouth made him groan. He drank her in, his paralysis finally breaking, hands sweeping up her silk-covered back to tangle in her hair. She moved against him, rising up and straddling his lap, and he knew that he could die happy now, just to feel her this way, feel her warmth against him, feel the curve of her bottom against his thighs. Scully broke their kiss long enough to pull her nightshirt over her head. The way Mulder drew in his breath made her shiver. She clutched the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled upward. Skin to skin. Oh, yes, she should have done this a long time ago. She pressed her breasts against his bare chest and licked the point of his chin. His mouth claimed hers, soft lips parting, his tongue wet silk against hers. His mouth was velvet and fire. He trailed kisses down her neck, to her shoulder, and she leaned back, secure in the strong circle of his arms. His tongue against her nipple made her gasp; his warm lips on her skin made her shudder. Scully squeezed her knees against his ribs, rocking her pelvis forward as he sucked and nibbled and licked. His erection butted against her, and she worked one hand between them to boldly touch and stroke. He groaned against her flesh. The world suddenly whirled as he turned and lowered her onto the bed, and she felt his hands on her hips, tugging her panties down. She reached for him, only to grasp at air, and before she could even form his name, she felt the brush of his lips against her inner thigh. "Mulder," she finally managed. "Mmm?" A sweet, hot kiss on her hip. "Oh, oh...come here." "I'm busy." She answered him with a gasp as he pressed his mouth against her center. Scully arched her back, crying out sharply as his tongue found her clitoris. A bolus of heat raced over her body as he worked his tongue in a slow, maddening circle. She clawed at the bedsheets, toes curling. She dimly heard her own voice calling, chanting his name, begging him to stop, no, don't stop, oh God, oh God, yes, there, yes, oh more, please, more, oh right there, right there, and then he pushed his tongue harder against her and yes, oh she was coming and screaming her pleasure and joy, her hands tangled in his hair, and he stayed with her, moving his mouth in counter-rhythm to her squirms and thrusts, his hands gripping her hips. Mulder lifted his head and took a deep breath, licked her taste from his bottom lip. She was quiet beneath him, but he could still feel the shudders running through her legs. His own legs were weak. He'd nearly lost control when she'd climaxed and screamed his name. He bent his head and dropped a kiss onto her stomach, trailed light kisses across her soft breasts. Her pulse raced against his lips as he kissed her neck. He felt her hands on his belly, felt her push his sweatpants down. The way her hand curled around him made him shudder. She pulled him down, guided him, and he groaned at the touch of her wetness against him. "Wait," he breathed. "I don't---oh, Scully, don't do that---oh----" "Now," she whispered. "Condom," he managed. You don't need one," she said, and tugged and arched up and he was sliding in, oh God, sinking into her warmth and softness. Her hands gripped his backside, pushing him in deeper, and he gasped, fighting the sweet urge to come. She made a purring sound in her throat and moved against him, silken legs wrapping around his hips. Mulder braced his hands on the bed and moved slowly, carefully. "I won't break," she breathed, her mouth against his ear. "I might," he managed. He circled his hips and heard her throaty sound of pleasure. He repeated the movement, trying to hold back. She trailed her nails up his spine. He bucked against her, biting his lip. "Good!" she breathed. "More. I want more, I want-----" He thrust deeply, shuddering in pleasure as she moved with him. He worked one hand between their bodies and touched her slick center, thumb rubbing gently against her clitoris. Her moans inflamed him; he stroked deeply, panting, feeling the twisting stab of pleasure deep in his belly. She suddenly stiffened and cried out, and he felt the flutter of her orgasm against his cock, and he was lost, pulled under a wave as pleasure as he exploded within her. He buried his face against her breasts to muffle his own feral cry. ********** Aftermath. They lay tangled in sheets and discarded clothing, Scully's head pillowed on his chest, his arm curved around her bare shoulders. His thoughts drifted, anchorless, weightless. The nightmare was long gone, banished. She purred against his skin, snuggled closer, and he dropped a kiss onto her silky hair. "I love you," he whispered. "Not half as much as I love you," she replied softly. "We should have done this a long time ago." "Yeah...on the day we met?" She poked him with her elbow. "You didn't even like me then." "I did so. I just couldn't admit it, and I couldn't very well say 'Oh, nice to meet you, now can I have my way with you?'" Scully snickered. "'Have my way with you?' Is that what you just did?" Mulder smiled in the darkness. "I think we had our way with each other." "Good answer." She pressed her cold foot against his ankle. "Want to have your way with me again?" "I thought you'd never ask." He muffled her laughter with a kiss. -end-