From: djmckent@neo.rr.com   
      
   Title:  Yajellucinations   
      
   Author:  mimic117   
      
   Email:  mimic117@yahoo.com   
      
   Rating:  NC-17 cause Tali says so   
      
   Category:  V, missing scene   
      
   Summary:  Maybe he should start being more careful.   
      
   Spoilers:  Teso dos Bichos -- yeah, you heard right.  Written for   
   the Fandomonium Virtual Season of Smut challenge, season 3.   
      
   Disclaimer:  The characters belong to CC and company.  The   
   rating belongs to the MPAA.  The situation belongs entirely to   
   me because I'm not sure anyone else would claim it.   
      
   Beta thanks:  To my tireless Twinsy for being the Bitch that she   
   is and making me think.   
      
   Special thanks:  To Obfusc8er for sending me her thoughts and   
   freaking me out.  She knows why.   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   Yajellucinations   
   by mimic117   
      
      
   He crept closer.  Silent.  Stealthy.  Padding carefully, ever   
   nearer.   
      
   He could smell her.  Hot.  Fragrant.  Ready for him.   
      
   Unsuspecting.   
      
   He pounced from behind, limbs wrapped firmly around her   
   torso to prevent any chance of escape.  She struggled briefly,   
   twisting this way and that, trying to dislodge him from her back.   
      
   He bit her neck gently and she quieted as he worried her nape   
   with his teeth, then soothed it with a swipe of his tongue.  She   
   hummed in her throat and wiggled her ass against him.  Blood   
   surged in his veins.  He growled, her delicate neck still within   
   his grasp -- a threat implied, even if he never intended to carry   
   it out.   
      
   When he stroked her flanks with his hardened length, she   
   gasped and arched her back.  He read it as an open invitation,   
   one which he fully planned to take advantage of.   
      
   He caressed her silky back, bending her over as he nudged her   
   into position with his thighs.  He mounted quickly, thrusting   
   deep into her moist cleft.  She lifted her head and wailed as he   
   pumped his hips, impaling her again and again with his hard,   
   swift strokes.   
      
   So good.  So right.  They were made for this coupling, this   
   joining, this animal sex.  Over and over and over he lunged,   
   back and forth, faster, harder, until the sensations   
   overwhelmed his senses and he could do nothing more than   
   roar out his pleasure as she screeched her own in reply.   
      
   They collapsed together, still joined, satiation rumbling in his   
   chest as she purred her contentment.   
      
   Blackness crept over his senses.  He slept.   
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   Mulder jerked awake with the ringing of a phone in his ears.   
   The ringing stopped and he heard Scully murmuring nearby.   
   When he tried to raise his head, an excruciating headache   
   drove him flat again.   
      
   God!  What on earth had he drunk last night?  He didn't   
   remember going on a bender but that's how he felt.  Dry mouth,   
   pounding head, achy muscles, blurred vision when he finally   
   managed to crack one eye open.   
      
   He could see Scully pacing back and forth as she spoke softly   
   on the phone.  She was wearing only her bra and panties.  He   
   closed his eyes again.   
      
   Terrific.  He was hallucinating on top of everything else.  Maybe   
   he was coming down with something.  He *knew* he hadn't   
   been drinking anything except coffee and water.   
      
   Coming down sick would explain his weird dream, too.  He'd   
   dreamt that he was a cat.  A big cat.  Perhaps a panther.  It   
   was so vivid.  He remembered the feeling of his own fur, his   
   keen vision, the heightened olfactory senses which allowed him   
   to smell --   
      
   A female.  He could still recall her scent and the way his hunger   
   rose in response.  He needed to have her.  And he had.  He'd   
   taken her fiercely, without consideration for anything except his   
   own needs and desires, mounted her the way a male cat takes   
   his mate.   
      
   Mulder shivered.  The images and sensations were still so   
   clear.  The sex had been fantastic -- primitive, raw, sensual.   
   He'd never experienced anything like it.  Too bad it was only a   
   dream.   
      
   A very, very realistic dream that was making the blood rush   
   from his woozy head straight south.  He *must* be coming   
   down sick to get turned on so easily.  He'd better make sure   
   Scully didn't catch a gander of the wood he was sporting.   
      
   He heard her hang up the phone, then the bathroom door   
   closed.  Relieved, he rolled on his back and opened his eyes   
   again.   
      
   At least the room wasn't spinning.   
      
   He looked around, confused.  It was his hotel room, but he   
   couldn't recall how he'd gotten here.  Or when.  Or why Scully   
   was in it, half dressed or not.  She'd answered *his* phone, in   
   *his* room.  What the hell was that all about?   
      
   He rubbed his hands over his face and was brought up short by   
   a strange odor on his fingers.  Bitter.  Rancid.   
      
   What the hell?  He sniffed again, cautiously.  It was slightly   
   familiar...   
      
   Dr. Bilac's house yesterday.  That was it!  While Scully had   
   been questioning Bilac, Mulder walked around, trying to get a   
   feel for the man.  He'd found a bowl of thick, yellow goop sitting   
   out in the open and...   
      
   Stuck his fingers in.  It was cold, gelatinous, oily, slimy.  He'd   
   raised his fingers to sniff and caught a strong whiff of old socks,   
   armpits and something dead. That should have been enough to   
   keep him from tasting it.   
      
   It tasted worse than it smelled.  Not just nauseatingly sour, but   
   evil.  That was the only description that fit.  It made his eyes   
   water and his vision blur.  He thought he would puke for a   
   second, but he not only managed to keep his stomach down,   
   he'd done it without catching Scully's attention.   
      
   No way did he want her to find out.  She'd give him holy hell for   
   putting his fingers into something gooey without proper   
   protection, let alone tasting it.  And she'd be right.  He'd taken   
   an awful risk.  It could have been deadly poison.  Or bile.  Or   
   snot.  Hell, for all he knew, it could have been oobleck.   
      
   He was damned lucky to still be alive.  Maybe he should start   
   being more careful.  Especially since he was having trouble   
   remembering most of last night.   
      
   Mulder clearly recalled getting into their rental car outside   
   Bilac's house, but then the rest of the evening went fuzzy and   
   he wouldn't bet against that yellow goo as the cause.  He was   
   pretty sure he'd showered once they got back to the hotel, but   
   he also seemed to remember pacing a lot, his body streaming   
   sweat one minute, teeth rattling with cold the next.  He must   
   have passed out on the bed at some point.   
      
   And dreamt.   
      
   His body's immediate response to the memory couldn't have   
   picked a worse time as the bathroom door opened and Scully   
   emerged, tucking a wrinkled blouse into her slacks.  Her hair   
   was sleep mussed and appeared to have been finger-combed.   
   No more bra and panties, if she'd ever been dressed that way   
   in his room and not just in his imagination.   
      
   Between the lingering sensations from the dream and the idea   
   of Scully in just her underwear, Mulder's imagination kicked into   
   high gear.  He turned his hips to the side under the blankets in   
   hopes of making the sudden hump in the covers a little less   
   obvious.   
      
   When she bent down and picked up her shoes, he realized that   
   she was wearing the same clothes she'd had on the day   
   before.  She glanced over at him as she straightened.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)