TITLE: " NIGHT AT THE SLEEP EZ " By PamalaSt 1/1

DISCLAIMER: Characters from the television show The X-Files used herein
are the property of 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting Corp.

CATEGORY: MSR ...UST.. TEASE <eg>

RATING: PG-13

ARCHIVE: Sure just let me know... By permission of PamalaSt@aol.com

SPOILERS: None

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are stuck in a cheap motel for the night.
Whatever could happen :)

FEEDBACK: Love it .. cherish it..... To PamalaSt@aol.com


" NIGHT AT THE SLEEP EZ" by Pamala (1/1)


I guess I did want to stop and get out of the damn car. Out of the damn
car and into a cheap motel with Mulder? Well, while sitting up all night
taking turns watching a room across the parking lot is not exactly what
I had in mind, I suppose it's a start.


At the very least, I can say that I checked in to a motel with an
attractive man and didn't sleep a wink the whole night through. Sounds
pretty good even if it is a load of crap. Too bad I've got no one to
brag to.


I reach up and pull the drapes back just a bit to get a clear look
around the parking lot. Nothing! Nothing has changed in the last hour.
Same old parking lot, same six cars parked in front of the various
doors, same old plain white door with the big green number four on it.
And Mulder. Same old sound of one sunflower seed after another cracking
between his teeth as he lies on the bed behind me, jumping from one
late-night television program to another. It's going to be a long night.


I let the curtains slip back into place, leaving just enough of a gap to
keep my eye on lucky door number four. Then I peek back over my shoulder
to get a glimpse of him. Black turtleneck, faded jeans, every glorious
inch of him stretched out comfortably on that tacky floral bedspread.


My mind starts to wander as I watch him absentmindedly pop another one
of those seeds into his mouth and roll it around with his tongue. While
the noise and the shells all over the place drive me crazy, I can't help
wondering, after all these years of watching him do that, what sort of
talent this habit of his has developed.


I shake off that thought. Alone together in a dark motel room well after
midnight is not really the time or place to start daydreaming about
Mulder's oral skills. I retreat to my fall back position and launch into
work talk


"Tell me again, Mulder. What makes you think Krycek is going to visit
the man in room number four?"


"I told you, Scully," he says distractedly, obviously more interested in
channel surfing than answering my question. His next words are mumbled
through the crack of yet another shell. "I got a note under my door."


I turn back to the window, back to the reason we're here. With Mulder so
near, sticking to business seems like the best plan of action. It
frustrates the hell out of me that, based on some scrap of paper shoved
under his door, we're going to spend the whole night awake, taking turns
looking out a window.


As he flips through channels at breakneck speed, I let my attention
drift to the resulting play of colors and shadows across the wall,
hoping that the light and sounds will draw me away from what I know I
shouldn't be contemplating. News, music, canned laughter from a
late-night sitcom, breathing... Heavy breathing?

I am instantly rigid. My eyes slide shut and my shoulders hunch tensely
to a height I imagine is somewhere up around my ears. Here I stand in
the dark, struggling to maintain our professional relationship in spite
of some very unprofessional thoughts, and Mulder has determined that the
best possible viewing choice for the evening is the Playboy Channel.


I carefully turn my head so that I can speak to him without having the
TV enter my range of vision. This modesty is for my sake not his, as I
am in no way comfortable with the sight of any sex act in Mulder's
presence. I don't go for vicarious thrills anyway, and although my
memory may not be what it once was on the subject, just being here in
this room alone with him is giving me enough ideas. I most certainly do
not need visual aids to up the level of temptation.


"Mulder, turn that off."


He laughs a bit as he starts his finger working on the remote again.
"Funny you should use the phrase *turn off * Scully."


Either my building anger shows or he has the simple sense to know when
he has gone too far. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he grins
sheepishly and ducks as if expecting me to throw a punch he'd need to
dodge.


"Hey sorry, sorry, sorry, Scully. I was just checking out the amenities
of this particular facility." His outstretched hand offers me the
remote. "You take it and put it where you like."


I don't touch it or him. I just stand there glaring at his grinning face
till he finally shrugs and points the remote back to the TV. He tunes to
CNN before tossing it on the bed next to him.


"Happy, Scully ?"


I don't answer, opting to turn back to the parking lot and the
conversation which I'd barely gotten started in the first place.
"Mulder, do you really think Krycek is going to show up here? I mean, we
have no idea what if any connection he has to this man in room four. And
judging from the look of this man's *guest* who arrived more than an
hour ago and has yet to leave, I find it difficult to believe he's in
there waiting to play cloak and dagger with you and Krycek. Frankly,
Mulder, by the looks of his lady friend I'd guess he has his own game in
mind, one with an hourly rate and which most likely does or at least
should involve latex."


No reply from him. I look over to see that somehow he has managed to get
even more comfortable, laid out fully now, only his head elevated off
the bed with the support of one bent elbow and one strong hand beneath
his chin.


He's watching me. In the silence, I begin to wonder if there's any
plausible reason I can invent to put my coat back on. This situation is
making me feel more and more exposed.


"You really think she's a pro, Scully? I mean, I'll grant you she has
the whole trashy thing going on, but a pro? Nah, I doubt it." He pulls
his hand away from his chin to glance at his watch in the dim light.
"Besides, if she was on an hourly rate, she'd be gone by now. And from
what I saw of this guy, I wouldn't peg him as one to pay for a whole night."


"Geez, Mulder!" I'm too overwhelmed by his knowledge of prostitution
rules and etiquette to stop and think before I open my mouth. "So what
is the going rate for an all night whore these days?"


"Well, like anything, Scully, it's a matter of quality," he says with a
typical smart-ass Mulder grin. "You get what you pay for."

Much to my relief, he then shifts his attention back to the television.

I pull the drapes back and take a look around the parking lot, grateful
for the excuse to withdraw from this conversation and astonished at how
quickly things have gone downhill. I'd known it was going to be very
difficult to keep my mind on work while spending the night here with
him, but I had never expected that pornography and in depth discussions
on prostitution rates would be part of the mix.


As my eyes scan the still-deserted parking lot, I actually begin to wish
Krycek would show up. Not just to provide us with the information we
desperately need from him, but also to get me out of this situation.


But gradually, as CNN drones on behind my head, I begin to relax and
think that maybe it's going to be fine. Maybe after just a couple of
quick jabs and a pinch of sexual innuendo, we can get right back on
track with the business at hand.


That's when my ears pick up yet another series of moans, gasps and
labored breaths. I'm enraged that he has the nerve to drift back to that
god-awful channel.


"Damn it, Mulder." I swing around to face the TV instead of him,
prepared to blast him with my anger. "I told you to turn that--"


I'm stunned into silence to find Monica Lewinski filling the TV screen.
Mulder hasn't changed the channel at all; be it cheap and trashy, this
is still CNN. And as fitting as moans and gasps may be to a shot of
Monica Lewinski, they aren't coming from the television.


Confused, I shift my gaze up the bed to Mulder, who has moved to a
sitting position with his back and ear pressed against the apparently
very thin wall.


He has a bright smile on his face and a gleeful expression that makes me
want to walk over and slap him for taking so much pleasure in my
discomfort. He laughs softly as he points at the wall behind the bed,
which must also be shared by the bed in the neighboring room. "Not me,
Scully, I had nothing to do with this. Must be love, huh?"


As I walk back to my spot at the window, pretending to ignore him, he
slides playfully down to settle on the bed again and tosses a couple
more of those seeds into his mouth. I turn my back on him, focusing my
attention out the window. He can see I have no intention of getting into
this again but that doesn't stop him from one last dig. "Okay, if not
love, it must at least be lust, don't you think, Scully?"


I suppose my better judgment flies out the pane of glass in front of my
eyes, because I can't stop myself from responding. "I don't understand
it, Mulder. Do you really get satisfaction from watching or even
listening to other people make love?"


The bed creaks softly and I glance back to see him shifting to a sitting
position, putting both feet on the floor.


"You want me to be honest, Scully?"


I bite my lip, knowing that I've opened a can of worms best left closed
tight.


"What am I thinking, Scully? Of course you expect an honest answer,
that's just part of our deal isn't it?"


I pull the drapes back further, taking a long look around the dark
parking lot in hopes of seeing something that will derail this
conversation and set our minds back on the real reason we are here.


Suddenly the thought crosses my mind that I may have been missing the
real reason we are here. Suppose there was never any note under Mulder's
door. Maybe this night in this cheap motel had been his intention all
long. I feel my heartbeat picking up speed. "Mulder, are you sure about
that tip you got? There's no sense in both of us wasting the whole night
for no reason."


Either he doesn't hear me or he chooses to ignore my attempt to change
the course of our conversation. "You want to know if I get satisfaction
from watching and listening to other people make love, Scully? Well, I
wouldn't call it satisfaction. But since I'm not getting any myself I
guess it's a comfort to know that someone somewhere isÖ"

His voice gets softer, becoming a husky whisper as he continues to
explain himself. Damn, how I wish I'd never gone down this road. "I know
you don't think of me that way, Scully, but I am a man. A man who, if
memory serves, appreciates the finer things in life, including making
love to a beautiful woman."


I feel my spine stiffen and I have to fight the urge to move away as I
hear his footsteps approaching behind me. "I do it because I get lonely,
Scully. I never really wanted to be alone, it's just worked out that way."


He's standing so close behind me, I'm sure I can feel the heat of his
body right through my clothing. "Don't you ever get lonely Scully? Long
for a man's touch?" He reaches out, placing one gentle yet decidedly
possessive hand on my hip. "My touch, Scully? "


Even if I could speak, I don't have a chance to utter a word. His hand
tightens around my hip. "Late at night when the loneliness hits me,
Scully, it's you, it's always you I think about."


I wouldn't have thought it possible but he moves closer, letting his
hand slide gently down my thigh. "When you get lonely Scully, what do
you think of? What gives you satisfaction?"


His firm hand moves cautiously around to the back of my leg and then
slowly and teasingly up and over my backside until it comes to rest in
the small of my back. "Is it me, Scully? Do you think of me?"


Standing there, thrilled by the sensations of Mulder so close with his
hand on my body, I prepare a statement in my mind. It is a statement
based in the honesty which, as he so recently pointed out, is just part
of our deal. *As pleasant as this is, Mulder, we both know that it's not
a good idea.*


The words actually move to the tip of my tongue. But before I can get
them out, he reaches up and brushes my hair back, then presses his lips
against my ear. "Do you Scully? Do you ever think of me as a man?"


My words slip back down my throat, meeting my heart which has suddenly
taken up residence there. His lips deliver soft kisses to my earlobe and
neck, wearing away at whatever thread of resistance I have left. "As a
lover, Scully?"


I decide to draw on all those years in medical school and call on Dr.
Scully to get me out of this jam. "Mulder, sexual urges are normal,
natural, even instinctive." Feeling defenseless, caught in this exchange
with my back to him, I start to turn towards him.


" No, Scully. Don't turn around. Just listen, hear what I have to say.
Keep your eye on that door across the parking lot and let me talk to you."


I'm open to listening to him. But as he lets my hair fall back into
place and pulls his lips from my ear, only to bring both of his strong
hands back to my hips, I know he has so much more than a conversation in
mind.


"Don't reduce what I feel to some emotionless biological urge, Scully."
He pulls my body back against his, making the power of his erection
evident even through our clothing. I try to contain my response, but I
can't prevent a sharp intake of air that fills my starving lungs at this
sudden awareness of his desire.


"Do you feel that, Scully?" he asks, pretending not to notice my
response and pressing himself against me. "I've been hard as a rock
almost from the second we walked into this room, and its not from some
urge to further the human race."


He brings his face near, his breath strong and demanding against the top
of my head.

"Explain it away, Scully. I know that you can't have a child. I
understand completely that I can't pass on my genes by making love to
you. But yet you're all I want. If this was just a matter of biology or
a drive to procreate, wouldn't I be seeking out other women rather than
biding my time with videos and pictures, hoping someday you'll let me in?"

My heart races at his words. This is about honesty, and Mulder is
telling me what he feels. As he puts his hand under my chin and turns my
head so that at last I can see his face, I want nothing more than to
give in to this, no matter the consequences.


"You're all I want, Scully. Anything else is just a substitute."


He brings his lips to mine tentatively, pulling back immediately to
search my eyes. But I can't speak. As much as I long to tell him how I
feel, the words simply won't come and I am ashamed at this failure.
Needing to show him somehow, I reach up behind me and thread my fingers
through the soft hair at the base of his neck. Then I pull his lips back
to mine.


With permission finally granted, Mulder kisses me the way I suspect he's
wanted to for nearly as long as I've hoped he would. His lips are
insistent, pressing hard and forcefully until at last I part my lips,
allowing his tongue to seek out mine. But even as I marvel at the
incredible pleasure I've denied for so long, some part of my mind keeps
reminding me that we should not be doing this.


I can't help myself, though. As his lips leave mine, blazing a trail of
hot kisses like a fire against the cool skin of my neck, I close my eyes
and give myself over to his lead. My hand is still tangled in his hair,
holding him to me. I offer my surrender in the form of his name,
whispered breathlessly against his face.


"Mulder..."


Each door I open he steps through without hesitation. No sooner have I
melted into his arms than he brings his hand up to my breast, touching
me there for the first time. His hand so gently cupping me, stroking me
with his thumb in all the right places, making me certain that he is all
I want. Even if I can't find the strength to tell him right now.


I look down to watch as his hand presses against my body in an intimate
way I've dreamed of so often yet have always allowed my fears to keep me
from exploring. Until now. He caresses my breast through the silk and
lace of my blouse and bra. Strong, confident, sure of what he wants.


For a moment, I'm frustrated by his calm certainty. How can he be so
sure, so steady, while my stomach betrays my desire and remains aflutter
with worry and doubt? But the question fades as his fingers, trembling
ever so slightly, begin to fumble with the buttons on my blouse. I bring
my hand up to cover his, holding it, steadying it.


"Scully?" His voice is shaky, as if he's uncertain whether my gesture is
meant to bring this game to an end.


In reply, I quickly undo the first and second buttons of my shirt,
leaving the rest to him. As he continues unbuttoning with one capable
hand, he slips the other through the ever-widening opening to at last
touch my bare skin. I close me eyes, letting my head fall back against
his chest.


Damn the window, damn room number four, and to hell with Alex Krycek.
All I can think about now is Mulder, and how every touch of his hand
ignites another fire over every inch of my body.


I doubt I could open my eyes and come to my senses if I had to. I can
hardly believe that only a few short minutes ago, my mind was searching
for a way out of this. Now I can focus on nothing beyond wishing and
wondering how long it will take him to sweep me into his arms, carry me
to the bed and make love to me.


I allow my body to lean hard against his, making little effort to stand
on my own. Gradually I become aware that he is teasing and touching my
breasts, each in its own turn, with only one hand. The other hand has
unwrapped itself from around my waist and begun tugging the tail of my
shirt free. His nimble fingers make quick work of the button of my pants
and move efficiently to the zipper below.

"Scully..." Just my name again, softly, barely audible. A question?


My heart aches to tell him what he's waiting to hear, but the words
refuse to come. I let my actions answer instead. Making no attempt to
escape the embrace he has trapped me inside, I turn my face towards his
and run my hand behind his neck to pull his lips back to mine.


As the zipper gives way and I feel the warm skin of his hand on my
stomach moving slowly, teasingly downward, I deepen our kiss. I'm
overcome by the taste of him, his tongue doing battle with mine. His
hand moving ever closer to discovering the desire I feel for him but
can't find the strength to confess.


Finally, his fingers reach their mark, touching me, caressing parts of
me I never thought I could share with him. I pull my lips from his to
see his face.


He looks so different. I've seen that intense driven look before, but
this is not the same. There is a heat in his eyes, a fire that makes his
riveted, dangerous passion for his work and the truth pale by comparison.


His hands have worked my body into a state which threatens to buckle my
knees right out from under me, and I decide I can't wait another second
to feel him, to touch his skin and body. It's my turn now.


"Mulder," I whisper, trying to draw his attention from his task. His
single-minded pursuit of a goal can be trying at times, but at this
moment it's one hell of an asset. Nevertheless, I persist. "Mulder."


He finally stops, worry clouding his face. I turn around to face him for
the first time, still held loosely in his embrace.


"It's okay, Mulder. " I don't want him to think for an instant that he
has done anything wrong. Keeping both hands resting against his chest, I
give a playful turn of my wrist to see my watch. "It's just that it's
your turn to keep an eye out for our suspect."


He smiles faintly, casting his eyes at the thick drapes which I'd
allowed to fall shut long ago.


"Oh, you think so, Scully? Well, in that case, I had better do my part."


He pulls back the heavy material taking a quick look around before
letting his eyes settle back on me. I play his game, beginning a
one-handed exploration of the strong chest beneath the dark, thick
cotton of his shirt. My other hand moves to his chin, tilting his face
upward and returning his gaze to the window.


"Keep an eye on that room, Mulder."


Acting completely out of character, he does exactly as he is told. While
I begin to run my hands over his chest, his shoulders, his stomach, he
makes a show of pulling back the drapes to get a glimpse of door number
four.


I let my hand drift lower, to the rough denim of his jeans, allowing
myself at last to feel him hard against the palm of my hand. His
breathing quickens and his spine shoots arrow-straight as I take my time
stroking him with one hand.


With the other hand I tug his shirt free. My patience is in short
supply, and his black turtleneck which was once so appealing is now a
hindrance. As the soft cotton pulls upward, revealing skin, my lips go
first to his firm stomach then follow the path of newly exposed flesh as
the shirt moves ever higher. Finally I trail kisses across his ribs and
to his chest.


As the tip of my tongue teases the skin of his chest, a soft moan
escapes him and tears away my last shred of self control. Pushing his
shirt up as far as our difference in height will allow, I run my tongue
from one side of his chest to the other.


I don't want to wait another second to touch him after six long years.
Tugging hard at the denim, I hear the buttons give way one by one until
at last I can slip my hand in to feel him. Mulder. His body, his
passion, his desire. Hard, strong, and real in the palm of my hand.


I move my hand on him slowly, watching his face. He stands motionless,
watching me, his breath coming in short gasps as my strokes push him
ever further across the line. His mouth works to say words which won't
form.


So he speaks with his hands as they roam all over my body, pinning me to
him. My own hand is trapped between us, struggling to keep up its rhythm
as he leans down to me, his lips demanding against my own.


I'm so completely lost in him, I'm only dimly aware that one of his
hands slips away to pull back the drapes from the window. Suddenly he
breaks our kiss.


"Scully," he mutters. Still lost, I turn my attention to touching and
tasting the skin along his ribs. "Scully."


I look up at him, frustrated at his poorly timed interruption. "What,
Mulder?"


The look on his face is one I don't know, or at least one I can't place
at this moment. "Krycek, Scully".


Thinking this is some sort of game, I play along. "Sorry, Mulder, that
just doesn't do a thing for me."


He laughs softly but I can tell there's nothing funny going on as he
puts his hands on my shoulders and spins me around to face the window.
The realization of what he's talking about hits me just as he reaches
past my face to draw back the curtain.


So the son of a bitch is really here. Krycek is standing across the
parking lot in the dark, knocking on the plain white door of room number
four.


With an exasperated sigh I start to rebutton my shirt, turning slowly to
find Mulder in the process of righting his own nearly discarded clothing.


"We can't let him get away, Mulder."


"I know, Scully," he says, looking at me and shaking his head.


I adjust my pants back to the way they were while he tucks in his shirt
and goes about fastening his jeans. As I begin buttoning my blouse, I
look up to find him staring at me. He smiles. I smile back, knowing we
understand each other.


"You know something, Mulder, I should have let you shoot Kryeck when you
had the chance."


I grab my overcoat off the chair. He takes his from the bed and slips
into it with a shrug. "Well the way I see it, Scully, tonight I can add
one more item to the list of reasons I intend to kill Alex Krycek."


His smile is beautiful, big and bright, and he raises his eyebrows as he
pulls back his coat to show me his gun, safe and ready on his hip.


"Let's go, Scully."


THE END