Standard Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me and I make no claim on them. Everything else is © Jane Mortimer. The following story is rated NC17, which means graphic sexual acts, which means minors are not welcome. Honeymoon II Jane Mortimer She was doing this deliberately. --No, she wasn't. --Yes, she was. He watched through half-shut eyes as Dana Scully leaned back in the water, sighing. Her breasts surfaced for a moment, the nipples visible through the wet t-shirt. It was too unreal. He'd been delighted by the room when they stepped through the door -- the heights of tastelessness were a dead ringer for the set of /Candystriper Pinks/ -- but much as he was amused at the idea of Scully dealing with these surroundings... this went too far. It was too much of a dead-on fantasy. Therefore, it couldn't be happening. Certainly it couldn't be happening with Dana Scully. The woman in the jacuzzi (/*not* Dana Scully -- pretend, it'll be easier that way/) sank deeper into the water; her eyes closed... her hands moved down over her body, half hidden by the froth, but he could make certain judgments based on her body language... he let out a breath suddenly and realized he'd been holding it. This was becoming difficult. In fact, it was becoming extremely difficult, and he cursed the fact that his own hands were outside the bedspread. If he changed position now, the movement would draw her attention. Her back arched out of the water and Mulder nearly bit his tongue. /So stop watching. Close your eyes./ /Like *that* was really a possibility... / He'd pay a week's salary to be able to walk past her, into the bathroom, and take care of this problem. (/Just out for a stroll, Agent Scully. Continue what you were doing... /) This was getting desperate. He had to make some noise, remind her that innocent persons were over here. He rolled onto his side ostentatiously, dropping one hand to the floor. His watch thunked loudly against the bottom of the sofa. /Hear that, dammit?/ His eyes were closed. When he opened them again, after a count of fifteen, she was still in the water. Had that been a giggle? /Obviously this isn't Dana Scully at all, it's an incredible simulation./ He watched as her breasts and toes broke the surface, head back, sighing with pleasure. Pulling off a wet t-shirt was a squidgy process, he considered, as though it were an abstract concept. It would cling to her as it came off... /No, no, no, no no./ She stood up, cupped water in her hands, and let it run down the front of her t-shirt. She turned to face the sofa. He swallowed, his throat dry. Her hands slid down past her breasts, following the water... past her stomach, below her hips... /It's some kind of new disease,/ he told himself, /from ingesting too many adult-rated tapes. Cheap Video Fever. Hallucinations, sweating, and disordered thinking.../ She scooped up more water. It ran between her breasts, clinging to her in droplets as it trickled down between her legs. Her head tilted back acceptingly... /Time to get up, Agent Mulder. Arrest this imposter and ask her what she's done with Scully./ /Forget Scully. I want *this* one./ Mulder recognized the voice of pure id when he heard it. Immediate law enforcement action was required. He threw back the satin bedspread noisily. /That's it, Scully. Blush nicely, ask me to throw you a towel, and we can all go to bed./ But she wasn't stopping. He stood up and walked over to the jacuzzi. She looked at him without surprise. "I couldn't sleep," she said, smiling. "Did I wake you?" /No, no problem at all.../ "Scully," he said, then had to stop and clear his throat. That was moderately embarrassing. And he supposed he ought to quit staring at her. "Water's nice," she said, as though they were sitting around a pool at the Holiday Inn. She sat back on the bench... her eyes not leaving his. He seemed to be taking off his jeans. At least, he was aware of the metal button between his fingers, and then of stepping out of them. There were times in Mulder's life when he was cognizant of doing stupid things. Right now, the only thing he could think of that would be more stupid than getting into that jacuzzi with Dana Scully would be /not/ getting into the jacuzzi with her. He stepped forward, into hot water. # /Morning:/ Any proper scientific inquiry was worth following up with care and attention to detail. Beneath him, Scully sighed as she awakened. Attention to detail was very important, Mulder reflected. Some people thought he skimped on that aspect of procedure, but he was, he thought, greatly wronged. He just didn't always focus on the same details other people did. "I never thought of my feet as an erotic zone before," Scully murmured. "We're working our way up," Mulder said. "Geographically, or in order of importance?" She sighed again, contentedly. "Don't tell me. Let it be a surprise." His cellphone rang. The sound Scully made then was not a happy one. Mulder grinned, kissed the sole of one foot -- all rosy and clean they were, and why shouldn't they be? She'd come straight from the jacuzzi to bed last night, and he'd carried her the whole way -- and went to the table next to the leather sofa, where he'd stashed the phone. At the time he'd meant it to be in easy reach while he slept, but life had gotten complicated since then. He sat down, reflecting that leather sofas were more fun when you weren't naked. "Mulder." "Mulder, tell me you didn't find any spooks in the silverware up there." It was Skinner's voice. He didn't usually call for a play-by-play; there had to be a reason for this one. "There's been no evidence of paranormal activity. As yet. We're going to poke around a little more today -- " Over on the bed, Scully raised an eyebrow at the phrasing. Then she smiled wickedly, got up -- trailing a sheet, just the way they did in movies -- and walked over to stand in front of him. " -- that is, we're going to explore some new territory... in the hotel... " She dropped the sheet and knelt down. Skinner said, "You can give it another day if you think it's worth it, but I want you back here tomorrow. Something's come up." Something definitely had come up. She ran her tongue down the length of his penis and he drew in a breath sharply. "Mulder, you okay?" came Skinner's voice. "Yeah, I... stepped on a pencil. I'm still in my bare feet... " "Christ, it's nine o'clock in the morning. I've been here for an hour. Never mind... This new case is higher priority than a hotel with love-starved ghosts." Scully teased the head of his penis, very gently, with her teeth. He was torn by conflicting urges to make her stop and to threaten her if she tried to stop. "Higher priority," Mulder managed to say, fairly normally, he thought. "Right. We'll give it... our full attention." He ought to be able to simply reach out a hand and gently push her back, but just at the moment he seemed physically incapable of doing so. "You don't sound good," said Skinner thoughtfully. "I hope you're not coming down with something. I've got a workload up to my neck waiting for you," he added with his usual compassion. "I'm fine," Mulder assured him, just before she took the entire length into her mouth. "Call-you-later-bye." He did manage to hang up before he came, but it was close. A few minutes later, Scully stood up. "Shower and breakfast?" she asked, feigning coolness. The glint of mischief in her eye ruined the effect. It also would have made him hard if there'd been any material left to work with, he thought. She was having way too much fun with him today. /Fox Mulder... G-Man, Paranormal Investigator... Sex toy./ # When Scully emerged from the shower, breakfast was waiting on a tray -- waffles and a red rose, with flowered napkins. She didn't bother to hide her disappointment on finding Mulder wearing his jeans. "Didn't you hear me calling for help to scrub my back?" "Scully, please. This was already a Near Death Experience. Give me a little time." She grinned and joined him on the floor beside the tray. He passed her a plate and said, "I had no idea Irish Catholic girls were like this." "No? I'll tell you my past experiences, if you tell me yours." "Uh... have some syrup." She took the small white ceramic pitcher and poured maple syrup slowly over her waffle, covering every inch with care. Then she lifted the pitcher and licked a couple of fallen drops before they could run down the side. She stared directly into his pupils as she did. /Jesus H. Christ,/ thought Mulder, as a stream of images flashed through his mind. He cleared his throat. "We should talk business," he said. Or rather, croaked. She replaced the pitcher and sat up straight. You could almost see her don an invisible linen suit and sensible pumps. /Thank you, Dana. And thank you, god./ He said, "There's no evidence of any paranormal activity here. Outside of the senator, there aren't even any other reports." "I agree." "If we check out by this afternoon we can be back in Washington tomorrow morning. Skinner's got a new case for us." She poured coffee from the pot and stirred it thoughtfully. "What sort of case?" "I didn't have a chance to ask him, Scully." She blinked. "Oh. Right." A flush crept up the side of her cheeks. Delighted, he thought, /when she's in suit-mode, she blushes./ He said, "That's what I want to talk to you about. Being back in Washington." She shifted uneasily, looking upset. "I thought we agreed that we could handle this and remain partners." "It depends on how careful we are." Damn, was she going to understand this? "The thing is... we can't let anybody know about this. I mean anybody." She smiled faintly. "Are you suggesting a conspiracy, Mulder?" "You know Bureau policy on this kind of thing, Scully. They'd certainly never tolerate it in a unit like ours, with only two people in it. You'd be reassigned to Quantico and I'd get who knows what loser for a partner." Her smile widened, and he wondered if he'd phrased that the best possible way. But she /would/ be the person reassigned; not only was he senior agent, the entire FBI knew the only chance of removing him from an active X-Files section was to pry his cold, dead fingers off the file cabinets. "And then there are the others." He was going to explain what he meant, but she was ahead of him. "Fox, it's too late to pretend we're not close. I think they've already caught on to that." "There's close and there's close. I'm not handing over a weapon that can be used against us. Against /me/... You'd be the one in danger. Once was enough." She pushed aside the breakfast tray. "Mulder, I need to convince you that I'm not a fragile flower. We can arm-wrestle, or... " "I'm serious." Her voice softened. "I know you are. And I can accept that. If you want to keep things secret, we will." "Really?" he said, suspiciously. She'd caved pretty fast. She pulled herself over to him, the invisible business suit vanished. He wondered what she'd done with it. "Really." She pushed him back down on the floor. "For access to your bod, I am prepared to make sacrifices." He blinked. "Why, Agent Scully. You surprise me." "Not yet," she promised, "but soon." She slid her fingers inside his waistband and begin unfastening the button on his jeans. "Uh, Scully... " "Shhh. Hmmm, how close to death are we?" Her hand slid south. "Mulder, you fibbed." She peeled the jeans down to his ankles and straddled his hips. "So," she announced melodramatically, "this is a clandestine operation." "That would be the term," he agreed. She moved gently on him as though he were a rocking horse. Hitherto he'd always thought of himself as useful rather than recreational. "Meaning we can't do it in the J. Edgar memorial elevator?" "Pretty much." "And we can't do it in the office." "Well, not unless we can do it without making any noise. You never know who's listening. Although I sweep the place for bugs regularly." She stopped suddenly, looking down at him. "You never told me that." He smiled, he hoped, opaquely. "We could make it a tradition. The Friday afternoon bug-sweep, followed by the Friday afternoon... desktop processing." She said, "You know, Mulder, I always thought there was an essential innocence about you, in spite of your video pursuits. I'm beginning to revise my opinion." Fox Mulder, sex toy, grinned. "Follow that thought, Special Agent." Suddenly he bent one leg, rolled, and turned them over. She recovered quickly. "Come on, I wasn't finished -- " She stopped talking as his lips moved down over her breasts, her midriff, and her stomach. Her expression softened, eyes closing with languor and arousal as a warm flush spread over her body like spilled maple syrup. "I, um... wait a minute... " "Too late," he said, continuing his progress. Considering Dana's ability to form long, rounded sentences at the drop of a corpse, he found her current verbal difficulties pleasant. She lifted an arm to touch his hair, but he took hold of her wrist and kept it locked in one hand as he went on. "Why are you doing this?" It came out in a vague, far-away tone, as though she were relaying a message from some distant part of her brain. He said, grinning, "Because I was taken /shocking/ advantage of last night." "You're over the age of cons-- " Her breath ended in a gasp. He went on teasing her with his tongue until she groaned and tried to pull away her wrist. Then he let go and sat up. It took her a moment to focus on him. She was breathing with difficulty and had to clear her throat before trusting her voice. He waited for her first words. "Don't stop, or I'll have to kill you." He smiled. "Just wanted to make sure you were interested." He took hold of her wrist again as he pushed her back. This time she made no resistance and he could feel the pulse throbbing wildly in her neck when he kissed it. He felt around for his jeans; they were out of reach. Damn. He sat up and rolled over to get them. She pulled herself up on one arm. "What are you doing? Get back here, Mulder, before I have a heart attack." "Give me a second." He reached into the back pocket and pulled out a white silk scarf. Scully tilted her head with speculation. "I was wrong about the essential innocence, wasn't I?" He unfolded the scarf, opening it lengthwise. She reached over and took it from him, feeling the quality of the material it ran through her fingers. "Where on earth did you get this?" "I asked if Room Service could bring it up with breakfast. You want to know the interesting thing? They didn't find my request strange." He pulled himself over to join her. As she examined the scarf he touched her hair; it was softer than the woven silk she held. "More likely they try to sound cool about all requests. You're reading a lot into a tone of voice." "It was more when they offered me a choice of colors... " "You're kidding about the whole thing, aren't you?" He smiled. She said, "Tell me you found it in the closet. Although that scares me just as much." He traced one finger along the hills of her breasts. "They sent a lower-order minion over to the gift shop to buy it, and it will appear on our bill. They also asked if I'd like a pink heart balloon with it. I declined." She sat up further, eyes wide. "/It'll appear on our bill?/ Mulder, how can we possibly submit this thing to Payroll?" "You think I should have gone for the balloon?" "I'm serious!" He smiled. It was nice to be the one doing the teasing, sexually and otherwise. "Don't worry about it." He brushed her lips gently, then kissed her more deeply until he felt her mouth become pliant and her body relax. Then he said, "I told them to put it on my personal card." Her voice came out soft but disturbed. "That's pointless, Mulder. Why should you --" "Shhh." He kissed her again. "It's my fault. Anyway, I expect it to be worth the cost." "You spent a lot on a fashion statement." He put one hand behind her head, tangled in the living silk there, and pulled back only slightly from his last kiss. Their eyes were an inch away from each other, hazel facing blue, filling the visual field. When he moved forward again her head and shoulders sank back to the floor, seemingly without her awareness. "Because, you should know, my tastes are simple... " He touched his tongue to her neck, feeling again the heartbeat there. He followed the line behind her ear, slowly, one hand kneading her breast. "Please," said Mulder, who wasn't above begging if it got him what he wanted. Scully's resolve was clearly crumbling; he doubted if she was aware of how every passing thought was visible on her face just now. "What is it you want to... " "Trust me." He kissed her cheek and felt her breath whisper along the side of his face. "All right..." He pulled the scarf slowly out of her fist. Once having agreed, she wouldn't back out of the game. This was the little girl who shot BB guns so she could play on the same terms as the boys. He'd never told Dana he knew that about her. "You FBI guys and your obsession with equipment," she said kiddingly. For a moment he thought of Jack Willis, then dismissed him. "Give me your hands," he said, and she laid them in his. They were soft and well-tended, nails trimmed neatly, without polish; just the hands that would go with the invisible crisp linen suit. He fastened her wrists together, making sure that the band of scarf was wide enough there would be no discomfort. He looked up from the knot to see a fleeting hint of uncertainty. This was also the woman who cut into bodies with a scalpel, who moved from medicine to investigation because she wanted to distinguish herself. Who wanted to be in control. The glint of uncertainty was ruthlessly extinguished. She smiled, eyes challenging him. "Ever done this before? You don't have a box of toys from The Pleasure Chest in the closet at home, do you?" "I don't cuff and tell, Scully." He lifted her arms and pressed them down in the carpet above her head. "Leave them there." She raised an eyebrow. "That's it, 'leave them there'? You're not in favor of tying them to a bedpost? I'm losing my respect for your degree of perversity." "If you don't think you can do it... " She shook her head. "That is such an obvious piece of dare-motivation, Mulder." "Yeah, I know it's obvious," he agreed, looking down at her. "But if you don't think you can do it... " /"I can do it."/ He grinned and she flushed. Fair skin was a curse, she'd told him once. He liked the way, with her naked, you could see the flush spread below her face and down her chest. "Whatever you say," he agreed diplomatically. Her eyes flashed. You could almost read words in them. /Think you can drive this car by yourself? Here are the keys... sucker./ He smiled. Time was on his side. He started at the hollow of her throat, with light, teasing strokes of his lips, tongue, and fingers. He moved down the center of her body with maddening slowness, not even bothering with the obvious erogenous zones. He didn't have to. He stopped at the mound just above her legs and noted that the rosy flush had covered her skin completely and her nipples had hardened. The muscles beneath him had softened to such a degree it felt as though she were melting. Her eyes were closed. He moved up beside her and spoke softly, inches from her ear, letting all the arousal he felt fill his voice. "Scully, I have every intention of seeing you come harder than you've ever done in your life." As her eyes flashed open he returned at once to the hollow of her throat, and began again. She wet dry lips and spoke, her own voice trying for steadiness. "You know, under the circumstances, you could call me Dana. You did last night." "I was self-indulgent," he said, continuing the torture. "I might forget and call you Dana in front of other people." "There are partners in the world who use first names." "No." "God, you're stubborn!" "You're safer," he said patiently, "if I don't call you Dana." "Mulder, I never asked -- " He didn't want to hear more; it hurt to think about the consequences of carelessness. He kissed her breast, taking the nipple in his mouth, sucking and releasing it. He lifted his head slightly and licked it with his tongue. It stiffened even more. /Like a flower closing up for the night./ Dana's head was thrown back, her eyes closed. Since last night he'd been unable to look at those rose nipples without thinking: Peppermint. No doubt this oral fixation was very childish, but sunflower seeds can only go so far. He moved to the other side and gently tongued the aureole before taking the other nipple in his mouth. She moaned, shifting under him, but her arms remained where they were. "Open your eyes, -- " /Dana./ " -- Scully. Open them." They fluttered open. He brushed his head against her neck and chest like a cat, sensing as the hair touched her skin. "Not fair," she said. It ended in a groan. "It's worse when I look at you." /If *I* can stand it.../ he thought, but he didn't admit it aloud. He trailed his fingers down her skin until he reached her legs. It was easy to find the nub of clitoris; it was swollen and throbbing to the same beat as the veins in her neck and wrists. He ran his thumb over it lightly. She groaned and closed her legs around his hand. "Not yet. Come on, Scully, not yet." He coaxed them open again. Her voice was heavy, dazed. "Please... put me out of my misery. I did it for you." He stretched out over her and looked down in her face. Her eyes were dark with arousal, soft, and desperate. Whatever the game was, she wasn't hiding any of it from him. All this trust was exhilarating. And frightening. /I always hated teachers who believed in me. Too much pressure./ /Don't trust me, Dana. I can't even keep you safe./ She twisted beneath him. "I never asked to be /safe/," she said fiercely. Before he could register his surprise, she raised her head and put her lips against his, taking possession of his mouth. /So much for control./ He followed her down into their mutual darkness, unable to lose contact, entering her without having made any decision to do so. She cried out against him. He swallowed her breath, her words, taking in and giving out at the same time. Legs, arms, and thoughts tangled. # Sometime afterward, her head on his chest, she said, "That was practically a Triathlon. We should get a bonus or something for that." "I think my hands are still shaking," he admitted. "Although I'll never have acne again." She laughed. She turned to face him, eyes glinting in the hotel lights. "Next time," she said, "/I/ get the car keys." He laughed with her, then it faded... He thought uneasily, /I hope you're not going to read my mind *every* time we have sex./ # She was in the bathroom, gathering up her personal things, when the cellphone rang again. "Mulder." "Do you recognize my voice?" It was female, middle-aged, and belonged to Edwina Prentice, Senator Matheson's personal assistant. She was the only one on his staff, besides the senator himself, whom Mulder ever dealt with. "Yes. How are you," he added, cutting himself off before he could say, "Eddie." "Not bad, Mulder. Not bad for two kids racking up twenty thou a year at Georgetown U." He laughed. "The bill just came again, didn't it?" "What a crack investigator." He heard the grin in her voice. He often spent more time with her than with Matheson, and they got on well. "That's why they put the ' I ' in FB-- " "I know, Mulder, I know. Say -- " and the question came out seriously -- "you aren't on any medication, are you?" "I beg your pardon?" "Sorry, just wondering." Eddie's voice was wryly apologetic. "Every time you come over here you seem so... I don't know, tense. You're sounding very mellow this morning." He felt himself grinning. "Anyway, the senator wanted to know if things went well with your little joke. He says he deserves to know, since he had to make three phone calls to get you assigned the case." Mulder heard the water turn off in the bathroom. He could visualize her face in the mirror as she checked her makeup. Sometimes she wore Chanel in the daytime, although she never carried it when she traveled. All those familiar scents... Dana/perfume, Dana/alone, Dana/sex... time to close the box and pretend they had no effect on him at all. "It went well. It went better than I expected, actually. Even though," honesty compelled him to add, "the joke was on me." He hung up as she emerged from the bathroom. # "Coming, Agent Mulder?" "Be right with you, Agent Scully." He grabbed his suitcase and followed her to the hall. He pulled the door shut behind him. /All business, Agent Scully. Not a problem./ Right. Not a problem. The pink-and-white wallpaper and burgundy carpeting of the hallway seemed especially unreal, as though the place had been redecorated while they slept. Or as though they'd been in that room for years, and the place /should/ have been redecorated. Trauma effect, he thought. Sudden life changes can have that disorienting quality. Come on, how big a life change could this be? The elevator doors closed and he felt his stomach drop. The floor lights blinked quickly past, and Scully glanced at him strangely. "It's just the elevator, Mulder. You looked startled for a second." "Right," he said, "just the elevator." /So what happens next?/ /Think you can drive this one? Here are the keys. Sucker./ The doors opened and he stepped out, onto the tightrope. Home © Jane Mortimer Monday, September 1, 1997