Title: The Robe Author: Georgia Email: Moonrock66@aol.com Rating: NC-17 Distribution: Freely Category: MSR Spoilers: Major for the Pilot. Various for pretty much everything else though season six. Summary: Scully gets drunk and tries to rewrite history. Disclaimer: They're not mine. For a minute I thought they were. But it was kind of like that hallway kiss (yes their lips did touch). Apparently it never happened. Author's notes: I can never decide if I like drunk Mulder or drunk Scully better. But I decided to take Scully our for a spin. I'd been playing around with this idea in another story. Then it took on a fluffy life of its own. ------------------------------------------------ The knock on his motel door startled Mulder. He had left Scully for the evening about an hour ago. She said she was just going to take a shower and turn in early. Mulder agreed, saying he might read over his case notes first. He had actually picked up the file, but then he got a little distracted. Funny how the crappiest motels always had the best movie selection. And Scully thought he picked these places just because they were cheap. So much for tonight's entertainment. Desk Job had sounded really promising. Then again so had The 400 Blows before he realized it was some artsy French movie with subtitles. Oh well, he wasn't fooling anyone anyway. Not even his own body. He wasn't getting any, and this poor substitute was starting to feel like exactly that. His missed the feel of skin against his, warm exploring lips, hearts beating in agreement. Nothing could replace the sensation of the first thrust or collapsing totally spent onto another body also gasping for air or the intimacy of waking up still entwined. He craved a gentle touch. A woman's touch. And not just any woman. The woman currently banging on his door. But that would never happen. He didn't even entertain those fantasies anymore. The loss hurt too much when reality cut back in. Sighing, Mulder flicked off the TV and pulled his sweatpants on, hoping to hide the evidence that he wasn't actually working. After a couple of wrong turns on the dead bolt, Mulder opened the door to find Scully standing, well almost standing, there. Of course he had known it was her. But he hadn't expected her to be barefoot and tightening the belt of a navy silk robe. God, that evidence was about to become really incriminating. At least it would have if he hadn't been sure something was wrong. "Scully? Are you okay?" he questioned. She didn't answer. Instead she slumped against him with this gleam in her eye that Mulder was sure he'd never seen before. He took a deep breath, relieved that she seemed okay, a little out of it, but not hurt. Maybe she'd just had a nightmare. "Mulder I want you to look at something," she finally said. That sounded familiar. For about a second Mulder was horrified thinking she had discovered one of his earliest Scully fantasies, Bellefleur, mosquito bites, nothing under the robe, and was here to taunt him with it. Then he remembered that this was Scully. She probably never thought about that night except to hang her head at her own naivete. As she pushed past him into the room, Mulder assumed she had come up with something on the case. Maybe remembered something from the autopsy as she was getting ready for bed. He closed the door and turned, expecting to find her hovering over the file he'd abandoned on the bed. Instead his eyes met the soft, white skin of Scully's naked back as she dropped the robe from her shoulders. His gasp was audible. "Scully what are you doing?" he almost cried jerking back toward the door. "What? You mean what we've both wanted to do for years?" she asked taking a step his way. He was making that face again. Obviously something was wrong here. This wasn't Scully. Somebody was pulling an Eddie Van Blundht on him. Hell if they didn't need a password. The bee pollen thing hadn't worked last time. Maybe Queequeg or iced tea. Betty Rubble, baseball, one in five million, magic fingers. Apparently he'd said that last bit aloud because Scully slid even closer and whispered, "Mulder, it's me." "Scully," he groaned "this isn't funny." "I didn't mean for it to be." He could feel the heat off her body right through his clothes as her deep, uneven breath fell heavy on his shoulder. Mulder braced himself, not sure which was stronger, the fear or the prayer that she would actually touch him. Then he caught the well mouthwash covered but unmistakable smell of alcohol. Damn. At least it was no shapeshifter. "You've been drinking Scully." He turned slowly to her, body first, eyes dancing above her head. "Yes. I have," she answered matter of factly. He let his eyes drift down briefly, seeking the blue of hers. The normal calm sea he found there was abuzz, pulsating with a dizzying mixture of fear and anticipation. "Why?" he asked, lost in the rhythm. At his question, the beat slowed and her eyes narrowed in something like anger. "You think I don't fantasize about it, Mulder?" Oh, God. "You think I don't need it? Shit. "You think you're the only one who can't get it out of your head?" Jesus Christ. How was he supposed to resist that? She took a few steps toward the bed. Mulder turned his eyes back to the ceiling. It was a nice ceiling. A boring ceiling. A very unsexy ceiling. "Look at me Mulder." He turned directly into her eyes. "Not my face. Look at ME." "Scully..." he warned. "I won't put my robe on until you do," she said tossing it at his chest. "I've seen you Scully. In Antarctica." "Then there won't be anything new." He shook his head, still fighting her. "Please Mulder. Just once," she said reaching for him. "I want you to see me." He reeled out of her grasp, throwing his hands up to stop her approach. "Okay," he relented with a groan. "Fine." He would look. Whatever it took to make her put that robe back on. If she stood naked before him any longer, he would touch. And probably never stop. His hand went through his hair nervously, as his eyes turned away to the carpet. He took a deep breath, then raised his eyes back to hers. Gone was the fear and anger. All that remained was a plea, urging him on, granting permission. So, with a steadying step backwards, Mulder lowered his gaze across her body. She was beautiful. Yes, he had seen her before. But he had never really looked. And there was a huge difference. The image his mind dreamed up, part memory, part fantasy, failed to do her justice. The living breathing Scully before him, wasn't perfect, but the details that he could never have imagined were breathtaking. Like the way her hair hugged the slope of her neck. Or the soft, confident line of her shoulders. The way her cross fell against her breastbone. The light freckles sprinkled there. How her breasts swelled with every breath. How her nipples looked soft even pointed with arousal. The feathery skin of her stomach. The still fresh scar there that made him realize how close the call had been. Her well toned legs. The inviting patch of auburn between them. The way her hips arched forward, as his eyes lingered there. Okay, this was a bad idea. He moved involuntarily her way, eyes streaming back up her body. Crap. He shouldn't touch her. He couldn't touch her, he warned himself. But it was almost impossible. She had known, even in her drunken state, what seeing her bare, flushed body would do to him. He moved still closer despite the voice in his head screaming for him to stop. And closer. Until she was practically beneath him. His face leaned over hers, making her head tilt all the way back. Mulder opened his mouth and hovered above hers for what must have been several calming breaths before he somehow managed, "Very....nice." Then his arms went around her, dropping the robe on her shoulders before he sank onto the bed, head in his hands. Scully's eyes closed as she gathered the silk around her, trying to control the furious pants that would become tears. She practically crawled to the door in silent humiliation. But the door would not open, and the tears began to fall freely as she struggled with the lock. When she finally got the door open, Mulder's hand came over her head, pushing it shut again. "Mulder let me go." His other hand slid gently onto her shoulder. "I think you misunderstood," he said. "No. I understood perfectly," she snapped, not turning to him. "You don't want me." "I don't want you...like this." That made her face him, her eyes shining up at him totally defenseless. "Then how Mulder? How's it going to happen? When one of us gets sick? Or tries to leave? Or almost dies?" she paused. So this was it. The moment of truth. He'd always assumed it would be a mutual decision. That they would look at each other one night and something in the gaze would change. Either that or he'd lose control and jump her office. He never expected her to be the one to give in. "I'm afraid we missed our chance," she whispered against the returning tears. "What? No," his voice rose in alarm. "Don't say that." He swept a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Why would you say that?" "In the car tonight Mulder, you turned off the air conditioner one second before I could say I was cold." His face twisted in confusion. "Then I saw you biting your nails, and I knew you really wanted your sunflower seeds," she continued. "Remember? I threw them to you before you asked." Okay, obviously she was drunker than he thought. "You ordered my salad while I was in the bathroom. I sweetened your coffee." "Scully you're not making any sense." "But it didn't really hit me until I was looking for a station on the radio. Classical. I knew you hated it. I was about to change the channel but you grabbed my hand and turned up the volume because you knew I loved it." "I don't understand. How is any of that bad?" "We know each other too well. This," she fanned her hands between them, "is comfortable. I don't think we'll ever risk anything more." God, no wonder she was drunk. That was a horrible thought. If they were never going to happen, he had no reason to get up in the morning. No reason to keep breathing. "I thought if we could go back, before we had so much at stake, that it would be easier." He felt his mouth go dry. He knew he shouldn't say it, but he couldn't resist. "Back to Bellefleur?" She nodded. Then her eyes slipped shut and she asked in a tone barely loud enough for him to hear, "Don't you ever think about it?" "Yes," he answered, his hand sliding over her face. "I just never knew you did." Her eyes remained closed as Mulder's thumb brushed circles across her cheek. "It's one of my favorite fantasies." Mulder swallowed hard. Shit. He should stop this. "How does it go?" Her eyes opened wide then, looking up into his face. He was grinning, but the smile did nothing to mask his desire. The raw need was written across his face like a billboard. "Show me," he breathed into her ear. "Like before," she murmured, slipping out of his grasp. "I come to you," she said turning toward the bed. "With nothing under my robe," came her whisper as the silk hit the floor. Once again Scully stood before him naked. This time he let his eyes pore over her slender back, past each vertebrae, down the flare of her hips. "Then what?" he asked moving in behind her. "I ask you what they are. Mulder, what are they?" she repeated wistfully. "And then," her head fell back with a sigh, "you touch me." With her words, Mulder bent down like the first time, as if studying two strange marks by candlelight, to bring his eyes level with her tattoo. But he did not touch her. He merely hovered there, making her wait, the heat of his eyes and breath seeping into her. Scully threw a glance over her shoulder, but his eyes never left her back. After a moment, they closed as her scent rose up to him soft and arousing, and then Mulder's tongue swept out to claim the territory of her lower back. Scully let out an incomprehensible groan that shook her entire body as Mulder's tongue traced over the base of her spine. "I guess that wasn't in the script," he teased, his hands sliding up the backs of her arms as he rose to his feet. Well, his life was complete. He'd made Scully moan. "Mosquito bites," he puffed into her hair. "Are you sure?" she asked turning to him, her words taking on a deeper meaning. "Yeah," he said pulling her into his arms. "I got eaten up alive myself." Scully's face went into his chest, inhaling deeply as Mulder's fingers wove their way through her hair. He was holding onto to her now. Holding on for control. "What now?" he asked, his voice going deep and rough. She barely got out, "now you kiss me," before his lips descended on hers. How could we have waited was his only coherent thought. The rest was all sensation. Hot. Cold. Joy that it was happening. Fear that it would change things. Disbelief. Bliss. Awe. Wonder. Love. And an out of control need that deepened as her tongue found its way into his mouth. He felt Scully's tiny frame go limp, as they pressed fully against each other, her breasts digging into his t-shirt, the softness of her abdomen absorbing the heat of his erection. His hips thrust in reflex against her, causing Mulder to pull away ashamed at his lack of restraint. "Scully," he stammered, lips brushing her cheek. "You'll have to tell me what happens next." "We don't make love," she said breathlessly, sending Mulder into a momentary panic. "That's for later." she continued, her tongue dipping into his ear. Mulder's heart had just started to beat again when her words came low and hungry. "Tonight we fuck like two people who want each other." In the history of the world, that request had never needed repeating. Even Mulder's lust ridden brain caught it loud and clear. An almost pained groan escaped his lips, and before Scully could draw another breath, he lifted her against the door, wrapping her feet around his ass. Mulder's mouth devoured hers, thanking God all the while that she didn't want to take this slow. He'd be hard since she'd stepped into the room. Hell, hard since she'd stepped into the basement. And Scully seemed to be just as frantic. She was humming as her heals dug deeper into his back, gripping him tighter with her legs, choking him with her arms like she couldn't get close enough. Now her hips were the ones thrusting uncontrollably, her naked wetness pressing into his stomach. It was more than Mulder could stand. With three quick steps, he deposited Scully onto the bed. He pulled his t-shirt neck first from his body and bent over to remove his sweat pants. As he came back up, Scully's hand met his bare leg, climbing higher and higher, finally sliding over his throbbing erection. Mulder sucked in a lung full of air. The feeling of Scully's hand on him was matched only by the idea that it was Scully's hand. She began to squeeze gently, and Mulder almost lost it. "I...can't...Scully," he wailed, pushing her hand away. Then he was over her, perched on all fours, his knees straddling her thighs, hands about her shoulders. Scully closed her eyes at the sight, gasping in surprise when his lips found her breast. His tongue swirled out over the pink of her nipple, sucking and nipping until Scully's head began to turn from side to side. Somewhere in his brain, Mulder heard her call out his name, another milestone he'd remember later. But it took her tugging at his hair to draw his attention away from her flushed, shaking body and to pull his face up to hers. Scully was waiting with a kiss that said take me now. As her lips parted to take him in deep, Mulder's hand slid down her stomach into the soft curls below. She was so wet, practically drowning in need, and far beyond ready, Mulder finally realized. The stroke of his two fingers sent Scully clawing at his back, pulling him down on top of her, their bodies meeting at last. Mulder could feel every inch of Scully, from her feet that stopped short around his ankles to her breath hot against the side of his neck. He was almost content, surrounded by Scully skin, until she arched up beneath him. Aw, Christ. Scully had always been impatient. He pressed down on her then, her hips sinking into the mattress, her legs falling open to him. Heat burned against heat as Mulder ground his length over her sensitive core. Scully's hands flew down, reaching for him, ready to put an end to the games, ready to end the waiting. But Mulder caught her wrists, placing her arms back around his neck, tightening her hold on him before he sank wholly into her. The cry that left Mulder's lips could be heard down the block. He left his mind, fell out of his body, and dove into a river of intense pleasure. His mouth latched onto Scully's taking in her continuous moans, spurred on by the wildness of her eyes. This was Scully he chanted over and over, sometimes aloud he thought but wasn't sure. He'd wanted it to be gentle and caring, despite what she'd asked for, but the sensation of being inside her, overtook him and Mulder drove into her with a blinding fury. Her hips met his every thrust, setting and breaking every rhythm until he was pounding into her without thought or grace. "Oh God....Scully," he cried out, so close to the edge, fighting his own body, afraid he'd come without her. Then she arched up beneath him, a strangled cry leaving her lips as wave after wave pulled him in so deep that he could no longer hold back. Watching the rapt delight cross her face, Mulder jerked forward, flying in his own release, emptying himself into her body and soul. They lay still for a few minutes just as he had collapsed, his head buried in her neck, her arms weakly circling his back. With a groan from Scully, Mulder slid out of her body, turning to look down on her anew, his lover for the first time. The smile that lit her face did not disappoint. Mulder felt own lips part, stretching into a goddamn toothy grin that he'd had no use for in years. "That was unbelievable," he said reaching down to trace the line of her smile. "But you got one part wrong." "What?" she hesitated, the smile disappearing in doubt. Mulder leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. "At no point was that ever just fucking Scully. It never could be with us." The first wave of tears shone over her eyes. "Well," she replied. "I guess we're going to have to rethink some of our fantasies." He propped up beside her with a grin. "Can we start with Tooms?" he asked. "That night you called me Fox." "Sure," she said. "But I already know how that fantasy ends." "How?" She place a soft kiss on his lips. "Iced tea, Mulder. Iced tea." end. ---------------------------------------------------- Thanks to everybody who sent feedback on my first smut story. You gave me the nerve to try another.