*NO ARCHIVE*   
      
   TITLE: Heated   
   AUTHOR: Joann Humby   
   E-MAIL: jhumby@lineone.net   
   DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Ephemeral - yes. Others please ask.   
   RATING: NC-17   
   CATEGORIES: S A R   
   KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance   
   SPOILERS: Erlenmeyer Flask   
      
      
   DISCLAIMER:   
   We all know the score. The characters are not mine, never will be.   
      
      
   ==========   
   2 of 2   
      
      
      
   Relieved, she rolled onto her back, stretching expectantly.   
      
   A single quiet look of appreciation and he was ready to act, moving   
   gracefully into position. His penis brushed damp curls aside -   
   playful, exploratory, found a slippery path that made her groan.   
      
   "Say that again," he said. Smooth and hard as he slid against her   
   not even attempting to change the angle.   
      
   "Jesus," she gasped, pressing desperately upwards to meet him,   
   relishing the quiet pressure even as she strained for more.   
      
   "Yeah," she added, as his steady rhythm made her melt, leaving her   
   open and wet. And oh so ready. She tilted her hips, making the   
   invitation even more explicit.   
      
   He took the hint, shifting his weight, angling his body. She held   
   her breath in anticipation.   
      
   "I always thought you'd want to be on top," he said, as he pushed   
   into her.   
      
   "So did I," she agreed, surprised that he'd acknowledged the   
   fantasy.   
      
   Reality was better. Reality felt alive, heavy and warm, and looked   
   at her as if she was the most important thing in the world. Reality   
   was hot and hard, and she welcomed him by opening up a little more,   
   running her hands along his flanks, craning her neck so their   
   mouths could find one another again.   
      
   Impossible to think of anything except the here and now. Ridiculous   
   to resist the chance to relish every drop of life. Had she really   
   forgotten this? Or had she simply never experienced it before? She   
   accepted his gentle urging and raised her legs, pivoting so that   
   she could rest her feet against his shoulders.   
      
   Stubble of his cheek brushing against her toes and she groaned,   
   challenged muscles that were already complaining about the demands   
   to give her more. Worth it. Like everything about the man, about   
   them - worth doing whatever it took.   
      
   He found her hand, slid her fingers to the place where the heat of   
   their bodies was preparing an inferno. He groaned as she panted.   
   Kept the pace steady and hard as her fingers circled around the   
   flames. He gasped when she stopped breathing.   
      
   Shuddered as nerves misfired and tendons screamed, thrashed   
   helplessly as calf muscles locked and flexed, and didn't care. Her   
   fingers less controlled, more brutal now, demanding her   
   body's total surrender.   
      
   And she was there again - lost in the waves, contractions hit and   
   skin sang and pleasure danced along the boundary of pain before   
   becoming pleasure again.   
      
   He guided her feet back down to rest in unnatural arches on the bed   
   and her toes continued to curl and flex. He slumped down to kiss   
   her, his hips still pumping hard and fast.   
      
   Losing himself in her, and she stroked his back as he moved,   
   savoring the moment. Breathless and shaky now. Falling into her   
   again and again. Wild disjointed rhythm until finally he shuddered   
   and groaned, burying his face against her neck, mumbling nothing   
   words into the pillow.   
      
   Cramp in her toes threatened to spoil the afterglow, but he was   
   wise enough to move his weight off her, giving her the chance to   
   stretch and straighten.   
      
   "Hmmm," she said, purring.   
      
   "Yeah," he agreed, gathering her into his arms.   
      
   When she woke up, he'd already left. Coffee, fresh fruit and   
   croissants and a note that said he had a breakfast meeting with   
   someone who used to work for Emgen Corporation and an appointment   
   with someone at Georgetown University. Still on medical leave, he   
   planned to make the most of his remaining freedom.   
      
   Scully frowned, wondering if she was disappointed, amazed to find   
   that she wasn't. If he'd changed - then he wouldn't be the same   
   man. If he wasn't the same man - he wouldn't be worth so much.   
      
   In any case, she was not on medical leave. Which gave her around   
   two hours to get home, get changed and get down to the office.   
   Scarcely any time to shower, when what she really needed was   
   a long soak in warm bubbles.   
      
   ----------   
      
   The call from the Hoover Building came as no surprise. Even before   
   Deep Throat's death, Mulder had felt the pack closing in. Skinner's   
   sudden interest in their work. The silent smoking man who attended   
   every meeting. The look of near contentment that Blevins had worn   
   the last time they'd met.   
      
   They'd told Scully before the Tooms' case - conform or else. They'd   
   survived, but Scully had lied to protect him from assault charges.   
   Skinner had warned him then - it was only his friends on Capitol   
   Hill who were keeping him afloat.   
      
   The meeting was scheduled for 6:30 and Mulder felt almost grateful   
   for that. Out of hours. Fewer people to witness the aftermath.   
      
   He'd been tried in his absence. Saw the verdict confirmed in   
   Blevins' sneer and Skinner's grim expression.   
      
   Blevins looked like a man who was enjoying his job. But what about   
   the Assistant Director? Mulder studied him, thought he saw some   
   hesitation there. Pity perhaps? Or something more?   
      
   Whatever the emotion was, it vanished as Skinner assumed control of   
   the meeting. He gestured towards the dark glasses that Mulder was   
   wearing.   
      
   Nice. Not that Mulder blamed him. If he had a suspect hiding behind   
   his shades, then he'd feel the same way. Fine. Let the   
   interrogation begin. He tucked his sunglasses into his pocket and   
   waited, mildly gratified when Skinner flinched at the sudden   
   revelation of bloodshot eyes.   
      
   "Agent Mulder, if the light's still painful, perhaps you'd   
   better - " Skinner waved his hand and Mulder knew he'd just   
   remembered the hospital report.   
      
   As if it mattered that Mulder needed two weeks of medical leave   
   when there was a dead DoD chief to atone for. "I'm fine," Mulder   
   said, staring stubbornly, fixedly in Skinner's direction, sitting   
   up a little straighter. He added a belated, "Sir," and Skinner's   
   jaw tightened a little more.   
      
   "Agent Mulder. I don't have to tell you that your conduct in this   
   case has been completely unacceptable."   
      
   "I think perhaps you do."   
      
   A brief frown of disapproval before Skinner passed the problem on.   
   "Section Chief Blevins - if you could recap the charges."   
      
   Blevins looked grateful at the chance to drone his way through the   
   list. The complaints looked good. Start with no authorization, work   
   your way through misuse of Bureau resources, and keep on going   
   until there's an important man dead on a DC bridge.   
      
   Mulder ignored Blevins but didn't take his eyes off Skinner.   
      
   The Section Chief hit the last page of the report. The charges   
   against Scully alone. First item - failure to notify the Bureau of   
   a suspected hostage situation involving a Federal officer.   
      
   Some aspects of the reports they'd filed were awfully thorough,   
   albeit utterly fantastic and completely uncorroborated. Others were   
   sketchy to say the least. With no physical evidence and only their   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)