TITLE: And then I had a good dream... AUTHOR: Marlen EMAIL: crmv@aol.com RATING: NC-17 KEYWORDS: MSR CLASSIFICATION: PWP, Vignette, Romance, slight angst. SPOILERS: none SUMMARY: Scully lets her fantasy get the better of her. This is in response to the IWTB smut challenge. DISTRIBUION: Gossamer, Xemplary, Ephemeral, IWTB okay. Any others please ask permission before archiving. DISCLAIMER: The characters of The X-Files belong to CC, 1013 Production, and FOX. I don't make a dime! AUTHOR NOTES & THANKS: At the end. FEEDBACK: Hmmm, lets see ... YES! WEBSITE: http://marlensxfiles.homestead.com And then I had a good dream... By Marlen Completed February 17, 2001 "Scully?" Glasses perched on my nose, I continue staring at my computer screen. "Humm?" Another late night at the office. We had a report due the next day, per Skinner. He wasn't happy that Mulder had taken it upon himself to destroy another rental, chasing a suspect on a hunch. The A.D. didn't even care that Mulder's hunch was the right one. Skinner wanted the paperwork done and on his desk by tomorrow morning. So, here we are writing up the tedious report. Okay, let me rephrase that: *I* am writing the report while Mulder throws pencils at the ceiling and gloats like a little kid who just won at a game of "Marbles." You know the game, where you try to roll, throw, drop, or knuckle marbles against your opponent's marbles, knock them out and win. What I would give to wipe that smirk right off his face ... with my tongue. *Stop thinking like that, Dana.* I should be annoyed -- not only at being the one stuck with all the paperwork, but the fact that Mulder ditched me...again. But the thing is, I'm not really all that bothered by it. Well, that's not entirely true. I was. Mulder was able to trap the assailant in an alley. At least that was his *brilliant* plan at the time. The suspect thought otherwise and rammed his car into Mulder's. Several times. Mulder was lucky the suspect was moronic enough to damage his own car so badly that he was trapped inside until the cops arrived and arrested him. Thank God Mulder had only suffered minor injuries, so *I* could kill him myself. What in the hell did he think he was doing? My plan of slow, painful strangulation turned on its axis when I saw him being treated in the back of the ambulance. I breathed a sigh of relief when the paramedics told me that he only suffered a bump on the head from the impact and a few cuts from the windows shattering. He could have been hurt -- or worse, he could have died. I tried to imagine my life without him in it and I couldn't. He's ingrained in every mental picture. It was then that I realized I couldn't kid myself any longer. I am in love with Mulder. I don't remember when our friendship blossomed into something bigger than anything I could have ever imagined, but I see it now and I don't know what to do. He is always putting himself in the path of danger, not considering the consequences of his actions. It's as if he thinks he's invincible, but he's not and I don't know how many more times I can take it. Maybe if he knew how I felt, he wouldn't take such risks. Who am I kidding...this is Mulder. He couldn't possibly love me the same way I love him. Could he? I sigh and sneak a peek at my partner. He has his legs crossed at the ankles on top of the desk, leaning his chair back as he twirls a pencil with one hand and uses the other to place a sunflower seed in his mouth, sucking the life out of it. Those lips... Sometimes when we're eye to eye and in a deep discussion regarding a case, he thinks I'm concentrating on his every word, but what I'm really thinking is how he could put those lips to better use and how they would feel gliding across the slopes of my breasts. And then I usually put my hands on my hips to counteract what I'm sure is usually another ridiculous theory. But at the same time, I'm imagining Mulder's chest unencumbered by clothing. Sure, I've seen his exquisite body before. I would just like to see it without a crisis looming over us. I would like to take my time exploring his taut and darkened skin, the slopes of his muscles and the feel of his still-beating heart. What he would do if I just ripped his shirt off, right now? Would he think me insane, or would he do the same? Suddenly, it seems as if the room is getting dimmer, and ... is it me or is it a bit stuffy in here? He stops what he's doing and looks at me. "Scully, what are we doing?" "Paperwork," I say quietly, but I can't seem to get my eyes back on my report. "No," he says forcefully, and with his eyes still fixed on mine, he stands and in two short strides he's standing over me. The look on his face is one I have only seen when he's hot on a case and won't let it go. It's feral and intense. And it turns me on. He rips the flimsy bandage off his forehead. "I'm talking about us." Oh no. Not this conversation. Where in the hell did this come from? I turn my chair back around, take my glasses off, close my eyes and press my thumb and forefinger over my nose to relieve the pressure that is suddenly forming. I'm not ready for this discussion. I know he's behind me. I can feel the heat coming off his body in waves and I ache to touch him. In a low, rough voice, he says, "I'm tired of playing this game, Scully." I feel his breath against my ear, sending shivers up and down my spine, making me embarrassingly wet. "What game is that?" I say so quietly that I'm not even sure he hears me. Unexpectedly, he swivels my chair around. I open my eyes in shock, but the first thing I see is his very visible bulge. It's only a glance, but that's all a girl needs. I look up into his eyes and the intensity I see scares me. I attempt to look away, but he cups my face with both hands. I don't look into his eyes. Once again, I can't help but concentrate on those wonderful -- and I'm sure suckable -- lips of his. He gets impossibly closer and I think he's going to kiss me, but he doesn't. Instead, the warmth of his touch and the caress of his breath continue to burn into my soul as he speaks. "You know, the one where we pretend that we are only friends." "Aren't we?" "Well, yes. I mean, no." That gets my attention, and I look into the depths of his eyes. I have never seen them so dark. "No?" I whisper. I inch the chair as close as I can and yet it's not close enough. He begins to draw circles on my cheek with the pad of his thumbs. "It goes deeper than that," he whispers in return and brushes his lips across mine. I close my eyes in response. "It does." I can't stand not touching him any longer, and weave my fingers in his thick hair. "I have wanted you for longer than I can remember." Feeling dangerous and quite horny, I say, "What do you intend to do about it?" He says nothing as he closes the very small gap between us and presses his lips against mine for a much-needed kiss. It starts off innocently enough, sweet and tender. I want more. I part his lips with my tongue and he is quick not only to comply, but to return the favor as well. He tastes of sunflowers and hazelnut coffee. I can truly feel my heart bursting open with love for this man. I can no longer hold my emotions in check, and start releasing hot tears flow down my cheeks. He must feel them roll down my face, because he abruptly stops and pulls away. "Scully, are you okay?" I nod and smile through my tears. He's still wary. But what he doesn't understand is that once I have had a taste of him, I don't ever want to stop. I grab a handful of his dress shirt and pull his lips back onto mine. Whoever said that actions speak louder than words wasn't kidding. I don't remember how I ended up slammed against the file cabinets, but here I am, "Special Agent Dana Scully," breaking office protocol and my own personal code of conduct and I don't care. I decide to let my feelings take over for once in my life. Rules be damned. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if the door is locked, but Mulder makes me forget quickly. His hands sear my skin as they move from my face, down my shoulders and land on my hips as we continue the caress of our kisses. I feel like we're a couple of teenagers necking and it hardly registers in my mind that I'm pressed against the handle of a file drawer. I realize that my hands are still clutching his shirt and with the little amount of reasoning that I have left I do what I had wanted to do before and rip his shirt open. I feel wild and free as the buttons drop against the floor. I stop. He wonders why until I touch my flat palms against his chest. How long have I wanted to do this? Since I walked into this very same basement seven long years ago. He wasn't at all what I was expecting. It was a very nice surprise. I look from his chest to his eyes and what I find there is irrefutable love. He's not only looking at me, but *into* me. Into my very being. I move my hands up his chest and down his shoulders. Mulder's body is quite exquisite. And for a man his age, he's in incredibly good shape. "You're beautiful," I say. He returns the compliment. "So are you." We move towards each other for another languid kiss and as his lips move to my neck, he slowly unbuttons my silk blouse. Now it's his turn to step back when the last button is released. "Amazing," he says as his hands part my blouse and let it flutter to the ground. He makes contact with the swell of my breasts. My breathing becomes rapid as my inner core starts throbbing. I want him in me and he's making this process painfully slow. Damn him. I go to remove the very uncomfortable bra and he stops me. "Not yet." He lowers his head and starts suckling the tender flesh of my neck. I groan in approval as he lowers one strap to lick and kiss my shoulder, then he does the same with the other. This feels incredible, but I really want him to speed this up, so I press my hand against his very impressive erection. I hear him gasp and then I am rewarded when I feel his fingers glide along my sides and towards my back to unclasp my bra. As it drops to the floor, he manipulates one nipple with his thumb and forefinger while latching on to the other one with his mouth. "Oh my God." He sucks and licks my hardened nipple while working the other with his marvelous hand. My hands are now massaging his scalp as I arch my back to give him more access. He starts to give my other breast the same attention. I don't know how much more torture I can handle. I push him back and he lets go of the nipple with a pop. My turn. I start kissing his finely tanned shoulder and move down to lap his nipples. He tastes of sweat and salt. He tastes like ... well, Mulder. "Scully," he says in a deep and emotion-laden voice. I run my tongue down the center of his chest and an a groan escapes his lips, making me smile. My hands are already unbuttoning his Armani pants as I go lower and lower down his body. Snap. Zip. Hoo-Boy. I always knew he would be a sight to behold. I run my thumb across the top spreading his precum and then lap the head of his penis. It twitches with anticipation. "Scully," he breathes. I lick along the side of his shaft, playing the same painful game he played with me. I hear his labored breaths and I know he's close. I haven't even started yet. "Scully," he warns, but I pay no mind. I engulf his cock with my mouth, sucking and moving up and down while massaging his balls with the other. His hands are now in *my* hair. He cries out my name in a way that only encourages me to continue. When I sneak a peek at his face, his head is thrown back and his eyes are shut tight. I know he's about to explode into my mouth when his hands tighten into a fist and tug at my hair. "Scully, stop." He roughly grabs me by the shoulder, pulls me up and kisses me hard. I throw my head back as he roughly hitches my skirt up and enters me. He stops, thinking he's hurt me. How do I tell him it's good kind of hurt? "Are you okay, Scully? Do you want me to stop?" "If you stop now I'll kill you," I rasp. I peek at his face and see his glimmering smile. "Is that your version of sex talk?" he says as he starts to move. "Mulder?" "Uh huh?" "Shut up." "Yes dear." My legs are pretzeled around his waist and his hands are on my ass, giving him great leverage. My back is still up against the cabinets and I take some of the weight off by wrapping my arms around his neck. In labored breaths, I say, "This feels amazing." "*You* feel amazing." When he starts to kiss me again, he whispers loving words after each kiss. "Love you." Kiss. "Always." Kiss. "And forever." Kiss. His words bring me closer to the edge. "Muulllddddeerrrr." "Scully." "Mulder." And then I'm shaking. Huh? "Scully, wake up." He continues to shake my shoulder until I jerk my head up from my very uncomfortable desk and realize it was nothing but a dream. *Dammit to hell. I can't believe this. It was a fucking dream.* It felt so real. "Are you okay, Scully?" "Of course I am. Why would you ask that?" I snap. Sexual repression will do that to a girl who hasn't gotten any action since the first Bush was president. "Well...you kinda moaned my name." Is that a smirk on his face? I'm sure my own face turns into an impossible shade of red. Instead of taking the chance of reenacting my dream, I hide by grabbing a file folder. "I...I did not." "I think I know a moan when I hear it." He points to the drawer of tapes that aren't really his. "You don't know what you're talking about." Mulder shrugs and turns back towards his desk. I think he's going to let this go when he turns and says, "Are you sure you're okay? You look a bit flushed, Scully." He comes back to me and places his hand across my cheek. Our eyes lock and he says, "You might be coming down with something." I miss the warmth of his touch as soon as he removes his hand. "I'm fine, Mulder. Just a bit tired. Umm, if you don't mind I think I'm going to go." How embarrassing is it to have a sex dream about your partner? While he's in the room? I grab my coat as quickly as I can and head towards the door to go find a rock to crawl under. "Hey, Scully?" I turn, half-hopeful, half-terrified. "Yes, Mulder?" He starts packing his things. "It's late and you're obviously tired... I know you have a bag in your car and since my place is closer, why don't you just crash there?" "But Mulder the report is *due* tomorrow." His grin would melt me into a puddle if I wasn't already leaning against the door frame. "I figured you needed the sleep so I finished the report for you and dropped it on Kimberly's desk." "You finished it?" "Well, there wasn't much left to do, so yeah, I finished it." He seems so proud of himself. Grateful, I smile. "Thanks, partner." "Anytime, partner." Mulder passes me and turns around in the hallway. "Come on. I'll even make you breakfast." My eyebrow shoots straight up and as we enter the elevator, I ask, "Mulder? You actually have edible food in your fridge?" His smile fades, but I take the chance I know the Scully in my dream would and say with a devilish smile, "Don't worry, Mulder. I'm sure we can ... improvise." I don't think I have ever seen *that* look on his face before. ~end Feedback cherished at crmv@aol.com AUTHOR NOTES: I want to thank the members of IWTB for creating an environment where I can challenge myself and grow as a writer. THANKS: To Lenore, Char, and Georgia whose encouragement and friendship mean the world to me.