Sun-Kissed   
   by Mish   
   mish_rose@yahoo.com   
      
   Distribution: Anywhere, with permission.   
   Rating: NC-17   
   Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, PWP   
   Spoilers: None   
   Disclaimer: Not mine.   
      
   Summary: A little beach fantasy for a cold winter's day.   
      
   Author's notes at end.   
      
      
   Sun-Kissed   
      
      
   She'd always remember this day in beautiful, vivid color.  Close her   
   eyes against the slash of sun from the small window above Mulder's   
   desk and raise her face to it, remembering.  Back in the office, a   
   place subdued by shadows inanimate as well as all too human, she'd   
   think of orange.  Not her favorite color by any means.  In the real   
   world, too frantic, too blaring.  The fast-food industry made good   
   use of it; who wanted to linger in a booth screaming at you to eat   
   and leave?   
      
   But sun-kissed orange... that was entirely different.   
      
   Her sunglasses gave the scene before her a soothing tint, the late   
   afternoon sunlight coating it in simmering bronze.  She approached on   
   slow, measured steps, savoring the sight with a curl of her lips.   
   Her toes dug into the sand with delicious strength, the dusky pink   
   nails sinking and rising, sinking and rising... her calves tight, her   
   hips swaying, a trickle of sweat following her spine in a snaking   
   trail to disappear beneath the slice of orange nothing draped low on   
   her hips.   
      
      
      
   The bikini was her idea. She'd bet he didn't remember it hanging in   
   the shop window when they'd arrived last week; lust, while Mulder's   
   constant, secret companion, wasn't exactly a friend this afternoon.   
   He was a bear with a sore paw.  Totally frustrated but equally   
   unwilling to call an end to their vacation until he was damned good   
   and ready.  But she remembered the faraway look in his eyes as he   
   stared at the mannequin, the one that said she herself stood before   
   him in his heated mind in nothing but scraps of orange lycra.   
      
      
      
   A peck on his warm cheek, and she was gone.   
      
   Treasures came easy to one in a place like this.  Battered yet surf-   
   smoothed coins washed ashore on the beach.  A convertible available   
   with a flick of plastic; when one absolutely *must* ride, it must be   
   done in style.   
      
   'Grabber orange', the rental ticket said.  Colors became part of the   
   bounty as well.  A lustful reach for freedom, for the exhilarating   
   tang of horsepower and speed, on a beach road that did nothing but   
   circle an island.  An endless loop of decadence and isolation, made   
   for taking chances and living for the moment.   
      
   A secluded condo on an empty beach, in the perfect spot to bask in a   
   glorious sunset each and every day.  Made for coming off the high and   
   just relaxing, for swimming without the restriction of clothes and   
   for making love with the windows open to the sea breeze.   
      
   A man, all shiny with sweat.  Lying in a woozy nap while yards of   
   mosquito netting swayed about him.  The one booty that surpassed them   
   all, she thought with an inner snicker.   
      
      
      
   She hadn't replied, just smiled at his attempt to lighten his funk.   
   Just as she did now when she saw a smidgen of toes around the edge of   
   the netting.  Nice toes.  Pink toes.  Her smile faded a bit; hadn't   
   she told him to keep up with the sunscreen?  Half an hour gone and   
   he'd slipped into negligence again.  So, so easy for Mulder.  Then   
   again, the tropics tempted anyone into oblivion.   
      
   Dropping the opened bag on her side of the double chaise, she licked   
   the nacho cheese from her fingers and reached for the sunscreen.  As   
   the sun dipped low in the sky, the canopy had surrendered its   
   protective ceiling.  Rays of waning sunlight tickled his legs and   
   feet while he slept on in blissful limbo.  The little plastic fingers-   
   on-a-stick drooped from a limp hand to paw in the sand.   
      
   Limbo.  When would he ever learn?   
      
   Aloe vera, coconut, slippery and cool - the cream, stored in the ice   
   chest, was bound to be soothing.  She noticed faint scratch marks   
   above his knee and went for them first.  It wouldn't have surprised   
   her to see teeth marks somewhere in the vicinity.  But for all his   
   moves, Mulder wasn't *that* limber.   
      
   He didn't move as she applied the balm, proof his slumber had a   
   little help.   
      
   Actually, she quite liked him this way.  Supine and totally at her   
   mercy.  All golden and unshaven, his legs spread to catch the cooling   
   sea spray, his lips parted in heavy, humid breathing.  Tiny lines of   
   dampness defined his chest and shoulders; beads of sweat dotted his   
   upper lip.  A small pool of moisture rose and fell above the   
   waistband of his trunks.   
      
   "Oh my," she breathed, watching that 'innie' tantalize, her tongue   
   darting out unbidden and treacherous in its sudden need to taste.   
      
   Not yet.  Savor.  Prolong.  Tease, touch, tremble.   
      
   What fun.  On the other hand, what agony.  Already, the feel of his   
   thigh under her hand created a form of torture.  So hard and hairy,   
   so mouth-watering in its definition.  She kneaded at her leisure,   
   taking long minutes to reach his toes.  She plunged her hands, warm   
   from his skin, into the icewater before easing more sunscreen over   
   the surely fiery little fellows.   
      
   He sighed, his foot shifting.  "Scully?"   
      
   "Your toes are getting pink, Mulder," she murmured by way of   
   explanation.   
      
   She couldn't tell if his eyes were open behind the shades.  It was   
   doubtful, given he hadn't raised his head from the pillow of his   
   arm.  Beneath her slow massage he stretched, his low rumble of   
   pleasure making her heart skip a beat.   
      
   "Where ya been?" he mumbled through half-sleep.   
      
   "Doritos."   
      
   "Mmm."   
      
      
      
      
   He no longer craved the snack, not with those cool fingers massaging   
   places almost baked by the sun. All thought of a more mundane hunger   
   dissipated under her touch.  It felt so good.  Almost detached, as if   
   his mind lagged a second or two behind his nerve endings.   
      
   Lassitude spread, whisking away any notion of total awakening.  He   
   didn't want to open his eyes, content to just feel.  Scully was   
   always better than junk food.  Head lolling, he listened to the   
   feather light scratch of her nails on his body.  Before long the   
   intimate, slow rasp overpowered the pounding surf.  He shifted,   
   feeling her knee insinuate itself between his legs.   
      
   A hint of something bold wafted over him.  If he allowed it, he might   
   bring to mind more trivial things.  Baby aspirin.  Tang.  He grimaced   
   slightly, remembering the smell of furniture polish and cantaloupe.   
   Very few orange things were actually pleasant, he decided in an   
   instant.   
      
   In the next, he realized orange wasn't so bad.   
      
   Soft hands spread a fragrant balm over his chest.  A little sigh   
   communicated his contentment, much better than any words.  It was   
   enough.  Those fingers caressed his arms, stretching the tired   
   muscles until his wrists lay captured above his head.   
      
   "Scully?"   
      
   He tried to pick his head up in a sudden awareness of how trapped he   
   was by her hands.  But the slow slide of open lips across the pulse   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)