TITLE:  Santa-faction Guaranteed 
AUTHOR:  Susanne Barringer
EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE:  Anywhere okay with these headers attached.
CATEGORY:  SR
KEYWORDS:  MSR
RATING:  **NC-17**
SPOILERS:  None
SUMMARY:  Sequel to "Can't Get no Santa-faction."  Mulder 
goes to Scully's on Christmas Eve and tries again with the 
Christmas present.
DISCLAIMER:  Short version: characters borrowed from 1013 and 
Fox.  No infringement intended.

THANKS to Suzanne Schramm (whom you should thank also 
because this story would've ended with one of those annoying PG-
13 fade-outs if she hadn't threatened me) for beta reads that always 
make me laugh.  Thanks also to Alicia K. for volunteering and then 
doing a great beta job on a short deadline. 

It's best to read "Can't Get No Santa-faction" first, which is 
available on my page http://www.geocities.com/s_barringer .

Nothing like a schmoopy Christmas story in May...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Santa-faction Guaranteed
by Susanne Barringer


Scully answers the door wearing a Santa hat.  I try not to laugh.

"Hi," she says in a way I can only describe as bubbly.  

"Merry Christmas, Scully."  I lean forward to kiss her on the cheek.  
Not our usual thing, but everything between us changed last night.  
"Or Eve, I guess, technically."

She steps back from the door to let me in.  Her apartment sparkles.  
There's a tree with too many lights near the front window, plus 
she's got lighted garland around the window and door frames.  No 
one could accuse Scully of not being in the holiday spirit.

"Place looks great," I comment after taking a quick lap.  

"Thanks," she says with another broad grin.  The Santa hat is tilted 
on her head in a way that is utterly charming.

"What's up with this?"  I reach out to re-center the hat so it doesn't 
slide off.

"It's for you, actually," she says, pulling the hat away from my 
grasp, then reaching up to plant it on my head.  I feel like a doof, 
but when she tilts her head to study me, the look in her eyes makes 
everything okay.  "I thought maybe you'd ask me to sit on Santa's 
lap again."  The look she gives me is wicked.  She crinkles her 
nose teasingly, then walks away from me, leaving me stunned into 
a lack of any witty rejoinder. 

By the time I recover from her little game, she's in the kitchen.  As 
if the festivity of her home wasn't enough, she asks me if I want 
eggnog.  I don't think I've seen so much holiday spirit since I was a 
reindeer in the fifth grade play.  

She carries my eggnog over to the sofa, so I accept the invitation 
and take a seat next to her.  We sit quietly for a few minutes, and I 
watch the reflection of the lights off the blank TV screen in front of 
me.  Last night we passed a milestone, an important one, but I'm 
not entirely sure what that means for tonight.  At the least, we need 
to talk.  At the most, well, the most is something I don't even want 
to contemplate unless I know it's going to happen.

I've spent the last twenty-four hours thinking of a dozen different 
ways tonight might go.  Now that I'm here, none of them seem 
suitable.  She threw me off my plan as soon as she dropped that 
line about sitting on Santa's lap.  Tonight, it appears, I'm Santa.  
And a damn lucky one at that.

There is, however, one thing I have planned for sure. "I have a 
present for you."  I pull a white box from my pocket.  It's the same 
white box from last night.

She notices.  "Didn't we go through this already?"  She sets her 
eggnog down on the end table and takes the box from me but holds 
it only at the edges, as if it burns her in some way.

"Yeah, we did, but the outcome will be different this time."  I'm not 
stupid.  I wouldn't give her an empty box twice in a row.

"I kind of liked the outcome last time," she says gently with a touch 
of a smile.  She has a point.

"You can have both," I suggest, figuring that I certainly wouldn't 
want to deny her another round of kissing--or more--if that's what 
she wants.

She flashes a bit of a grin, then brings the box up to her ear and 
gives it a little shake, just like last night.  This time, something 
rattles.

"Ah, it's not empty this time."  She opens the box and looks in, but 
not before giving me a look of utter joy and anticipation that sends 
my heart pounding.  I have faith in this gift. 

She pulls out the object, a large key with a loop of red ribbon 
attached.  "It's a key," she says flatly.  

"Yes, it is."

She looks at me curiously.  "Mulder, if you tell me this is the key to 
your heart  . . ."

Okay, so I kind of wish I'd thought of that.  Then again, it might 
have made me look as cheap as I looked last night.  "No, it's the 
key to something much more substantial."  I watch as curiosity 
overtakes her features.  I wonder how long she'll wait before she 
grows impatient.

Not long.  "Key to what, Mulder?"

Part of me really wants to tease her, to draw this out, but I toyed 
enough with her last night.  Besides, I can't wait to see the look on 
her face.

"It's out in the hall," I say.  She's headed for the door so fast I 
barely have time to put down my eggnog and meet her there before 
she has the door open.  She peeks outside and I hear the gasp.  
When I make my way into the hall, I see the look on her face to 
match what I heard.

"It's a hope chest," I explain.  I'm sure she knows that but I feel it 
necessary to elaborate so that she doesn't wonder why the hell I 
bought her a piece of furniture. 

"It's beautiful, Mulder."  She stoops down in front of the chest and 
runs her hand over the glossy wood.  I went top of the line, and the 
mahogany glistens wonderfully in the low light of the hallway. 

Scully strokes over the wood of the lid a few times, then runs her 
hand down the front, sketching over the scrolled carvings with a 
finger.  I watch her study it, her eyes wide with the details, her 
hands playing over the wood.  Within moments, she rises up and 
lifts the lid, releasing the pungent aroma of the cedar-lined interior.  
The chest is empty, like the box last night, but she seems to have 
no complaints this time.

Finally, after inspecting the chest closely, she closes the lid and 
turns to face me.  "Mulder, this is so beautiful.  But why in the 
world did you buy me a hope chest?"  She looks honestly confused.  
Maybe this wasn't a good choice.

"Hope for the future, treasures of the past," I comment with a 
shrug.  She looks at me in a way I can only describe as loving.  
Whatever the word, I'm overwhelmed by what I see in her eyes. 

"Did you write that?" she asks, her hand coming up to rest on my 
elbow.

"I got it off the sales brochure," I admit.  She laughs and I resist the 
urge to kiss her again.  I want to let this moment settle before I start 
pushing to change it.

Somehow, I find my arms around her anyway as she slips closer to 
me.  She hugs me tightly, then steps back.  "Let's take it inside."  
She hoists one end as I carry the other, and we maneuver the chest 
through the door and into the living room.  She directs me to a 
place in front of the sofa, against the wall, where we set it down.

"Shouldn't it go in the bedroom, Scully?  I mean, isn't that where 
they go?"

"Probably."  She moves a planter out of the way, then gives the 
chest a little shove to center it.  "But I'm putting it out here where 
everyone can see it."  She wipes imaginary dust off the lid.  "It 
looks perfect here anyway." 

Scully admires the chest for a few more moments, then takes my 
hand and pulls me back to the sofa, and we sit facing the hope 
chest.  She seems to like sitting and looking at it, at least for the 
moment, so I play along.  It's nice to be here, on Christmas Eve, 
with a beautiful tree, and Scully by my side.  If I had to pick a gift, 
this would be it.

"How did you get this here, Mulder?" she asks suddenly, moving 
closer to me, much to my surprise and delight.

"I had a few elves to help me."  

She turns to look up at me.  "Tell the Gunmen I said thanks."  Yes, 
she certainly knows me well.  "It's gorgeous, Mulder.  I can't get 
over it.  You have good taste."  She's got that teasing tone of voice, 
so light and happy that I could spend all night listening to her give 
me a hard time.  For some reason, however, that makes me feel 
serious and sentimental.  I want her to know what this means to 
me, how important it is.  

"You know, whenever I'd see these things in catalogs or in stores, I 
always thought that it was just the kind of thing I would have 
bought for Samantha on her wedding day or for her college 
graduation.  It seemed like something I would have loved to give to 
her."   

Scully says nothing at first, but my words have had an effect on 
her.  "Mulder, if you're leading up to telling me that you think of 
me like a sister, I'll be sending you the bill for my therapy."

I laugh.  I mean, I laugh from the gut, in a way that so rarely 
happens to me anymore.  As much as I love Scully for all the 
things I see in her everyday, I love her even more for the rare 
moments when she shows how truly deadly her sense of humor is.

"Trust me, Scully, I definitely don't think of you as a sister.  I was 
only trying to say that it's really nice to finally have someone to buy 
this for.  It's something I've been wanting for a long time."

She takes my hand in hers, stroking softly across the back of my 
knuckles with her thumb.  "I understand, Mulder, and I'm sorry I 
made fun of you."

"No, Scully, that was perfect.  Thank you for making me laugh."  
She leans into my shoulder in such a way that there's nothing for 
me to do but put my arm around her.  Obviously I'm not reluctant, 
but all my plans for how to make this evening perfect aren't 
needed.  It's happening on its own because Scully wants it to.

"This is nice," she says softly.  It most certainly is.

"I'm surprised you're not spending tonight with your mom," I say, 
after a silence that is beginning to feel like we're both waiting for 
something to happen.  I've always assumed that Scully was busy on 
Christmas Eve, that her family kept her from ever being lonely the 
way I've been lonely.

"Since Dad died, she's started spending her Christmas Eve at the 
homeless shelter, helping with the big holiday dinner they serve 
tomorrow.  The holidays are hard for her.  I think it makes her feel 
better."

"I can understand."  I can't help but wonder how hard they are for 
Scully.  Me, I haven't had a normal holiday since I was a kid, but 
the losses for Scully are much more recent.  "You didn't want to go 
help?"

"I think Mom prefers to do it alone.  It takes her mind off 
everything.  We spend Christmas Day together, so I'll see her 
tomorrow.  Besides," she squeezes my hand and looks up at me, "I 
wanted to spend tonight with you."

Damned if she hasn't rendered me speechless again.  I can't think of 
anything to do but tease her.  "And why is that exactly?"

She looks at me wide-eyed but says nothing.  Then she turns and 
looks at the hope chest in front of us.  "Thanks for my gift, Mulder.  
I love it."  She's already told me that, more than once.  Is she 
flustered?

I have one more trick up my sleeve.  "I've got something else, 
something for you to put in the chest.  It's bad luck to leave it 
empty."  I remove my arm from around her and reach into my shirt 
pocket.

"Did you read that in the sales brochure too?" she teases.

"No, I just made that up."  I pull out the photo of her sitting on 
Santa's lap from last night at the mall.  She takes it from me and 
laughs loudly.

"Is this supposed to be a hope for the future thing?  Or a treasure of 
the past thing?"  She pulls away and sits up straighter, which 
means she's no longer tucked neatly against me.  I miss the contact.

"You tell me."

She studies the photo carefully.  "Well, it is my future husband," 
she says, making fun of the jealousy I displayed last night in all its 
glory, "but I still think it's a treasure of the past.  That was 
yesterday, and this is today."

I'm not sure if she's being philosophical or funny.  She continues 
before I can ask.  "Then again, there's hope too.  Because of this 
picture . . ."  She doesn't finish the statement, but I'm pretty sure I 
know what she's thinking.

"Because of this picture what?"  I grab onto the edge of the photo 
in such a way that our hands are touching.  

She smiles broadly but doesn't look at me.  I tilt my head down to 
try to see what she's thinking.  "You know."  Her voice is soft and 
deep in tone.

"Know what?"  I can't help it.  She looks like she wants to slug me.  
Instead she turns toward me and kisses me lightly, her lips 
touching mine, her hand brushing my cheek.  

When she pulls back I can't seem to do much but stare at her.  She 
kisses me again, quickly but more deeply, and I get a taste of her 
tongue against mine.  Then she stands up and walks over to the 
chest.  She stoops down, lifts the lid, and places the picture inside.

"Wouldn't want bad luck," she says softly.  I get up and stand 
behind her, charmed by the way she runs her hand over the lid, as if 
memorizing the feel of it.  I have a sudden flash of her hands 
running over me that way, touching me that way.  My breath 
catches in my throat.  The curve of her back makes me want to lean 
down and touch her, stroke her skin until she writhes under my 
touch.

She stands up and takes a few steps toward me and I wonder if she 
can see what I'm thinking.  All I know is I have to touch her.  I 
move forward and wrap my arms around her.  The way she looks at 
me, I can tell she's not surprised.  She's the one who leans up to 
kiss me and I meet her halfway.  

Her lips brush over mine, and when I open my mouth to her, her 
tongue darts out to join mine, tangling up then stroking around me.  
I'd already forgotten in the short time since last night how sweet 
this could be--how fast the desire could rise inside me.  She presses 
her body against me and drops kisses along my neck and jaw.  The 
heat of her lips scorches patterns into my skin.

My need gets the best of me and I push into her.  She takes a few 
steps back and I feel her legs bump against some furniture.  She 
sits down, pulling my head down so that she can keep those lips on 
me.  Her fingers twine through my hair, knocking off the Santa hat.  

I drop to my knees so that we're on the same level.  Her legs part so 
I can get closer to her, and her arms pull me forward.  She tastes of 
eggnog and Christmas but her kisses are short and quick, not 
enough for me to get that taste into my soul.

Her lips wander over my neck, her tongue tickling at my throat.  
Then she returns to my lips, finally kissing me long and deep.  I 
reach up to unbutton the top button on her blouse.  She makes a 
noise from down low in her throat that makes me grin madly.  She 
wants me as much as I want her.  Talk about a Christmas miracle.

I go for another button, then lean down to kiss the revealed skin, 
tasting the Christmasy sweetness of it.  Her hands stroke along the 
back of my neck and shoulders, digging into my skin as I caress her 
breast through her shirt.

I slowly work my way down a few more buttons.  Scully gasps and 
nips at my neck, small sounds of pleasure rising up from her.  I hit 
the bottom button and open her blouse to reveal her bra and 
smooth belly.  Glimmers of the Christmas lights reflect off her 
skin, and when I look up I see a barrage of colored lights in her 
eyes.  And so much more.  She surprises me by reaching out and 
touching me, stroking her hand over my cock which quivers under 
her touch.  Her eyes light up even more with the smile that follows 
her touch.

I grasp her to me, burying my face into the valley between her 
breasts, tasting her skin, hearing her breathing become gasps.  
Scully pulls my shirt away from my shoulder to kiss her way along 
my collarbone as I tug down one side of her bra to kiss the revealed 
skin.

"Wait, Mulder, stop."  I hear her words but it takes a full five 
seconds for my brain to process it.  Stop?  I pull my lips from the 
smooth skin of her breast and look up.  Stop?

"Stop," she says again, as if for emphasis.  So, I stop.

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I thought . . ."  The idea is carried away on an 
imaginary breeze.  I figure spelling it out at this point is both 
redundant and pointless.  I stand up, away from the magnetic allure 
of her body.

She smiles suddenly.  "No, I don't mean stop stop."  Her hand 
comes up to rest on my hip.  "I just mean stop, not on the hope 
chest."  I look down and realize that, yes, in fact, she is sitting on 
the hope chest.  I was so wrapped up in the moment I wasn't even 
paying attention.  I look back at her face and she is flushed and 
grinning.

"What about the hope for the future?" I tease, thankful that this 
moment is ending in a joke and not a cold shower.

"Yeah, but we'd leave treasures of the past all over it."  Another 
wicked moment of humor, resulting in a laugh that bursts out of me 
with true and honest pleasure.  I laugh with the same passion that I 
feel at this moment.

In the end, I can't exactly argue.  After all the money I put into that 
thing, it would be a shame to ruin it.  "So, you would have no 
objection to my continuing what I was doing on, say, the bed?"  I 
waggle my eyebrows for effect.

She looks thoughtful for a moment.  "Bed, couch, floor, kitchen 
table.  I don't much care, as long as it's not the hope chest."  Oh 
God, how I love this woman.

"The bedroom it is.  For starters anyway.  We'll cover the rest 
later."  She laughs softly, and I stoop down and wrap my arms 
around her waist so I can pull her to her feet.  She surprises me by 
locking her legs around my hips.  I hold onto her tightly, intending 
to carry her into the bedroom.  Before I can straighten up, she 
pushes her weight into me, causing me to land on my ass with her 
straddled across my thighs.  

"Or the floor," I amend.  

"This works," she says, pulling her legs up so she's on her knees, 
then scooting forward so that she's sitting across my groin.

"Yes, works fine," I manage to say as she shifts slightly so that my 
cock lies between her legs.  She kisses me deeply, her fingers 
finishing with the buttons on my shirt.  Then she stops and leans 
back on her hands so she can study me.  I recline against the sofa 
behind me so I get the same view.  We sit like that, Scully 
straddled across my lap, grinning at each other.

"So, little girl, tell Santa what you want for Christmas," I tease.  
Scully throws back her head and laughs, but her eyes glisten with 
intent when she looks at me.

"Let's see, Santa.  I'd like roller skates, and a puppy, and a Barbie 
Townhouse, because I've been very very good."  Her eyes are lit by 
the Christmas lights surrounding us and by her smile.  Then a 
serious look crosses her face.  "And someone to spend my life 
with."

"Don't you already have one of those?" I ask, not exactly sure what 
an appropriate response would be but surprised at the sudden 
hammering of blood in my head.

"Do I?"  She's serious.  She leans forward again, her hand stroking 
over my jaw, her eyes asking me a deeper question than her words.

I take her hand in mine, then motion toward the hope chest.  "Hope 
chest, Scully.  I didn't buy it to watch some other guy help you fill 
it."

One side of her mouth lifts in a half-smile.  "That's what I figured," 
she says softly then kisses me lightly.  "So, is that a candy cane in 
your pocket or are you just glad to be here?"  She shifts over my 
hips just to remind me how much I want her.

"You're the doctor, you tell me."  I return to my previous project, 
before she moved us from the hope chest, and run my tongue along 
the soft skin at the edge of her bra.

Her breath puffs against my ear, then turns into a whisper.  "If it is 
a candy cane, I want to taste it," she murmurs.

My cock jumps in reply and Scully gasps against my ear.  Time to 
cut the chit-chat and hurry this thing up a bit.

She beats me to it, suddenly reaching down between her legs to 
stroke my cock through my jeans.  I damn near jump off the floor 
at her touch, grabbing onto her waist to steady myself.  I can't 
believe how far just her simple touch can take me.  She unzips my 
jeans, thankfully, then slides her hand inside to take firmer hold of 
me while kissing me mercilessly.

Now we're hurrying too much, at least I am, so I make a conscious 
effort to change the direction of things, for now.  

I take her hand, the busy and talented one, and kiss her palm, then 
her wrist.  She weaves her fingers through mine and studies our 
linked hands, breathing heavily.  She continues to watch our 
fingers, wiggling hers between mine, watching the way mine 
wiggle back.  

It's an odd experience, this careful examination of the way our 
hands meet up, her fingers shorter and more delicate than mine, yet 
fitting perfectly.

"Merry Christmas, Mulder," she says, finally looking at me again.  
Her gaze is overflowing with emotion.

"Merry Christmas, Scully."  She unlinks our hands, then pulls her 
unbuttoned shirt off her shoulders.  Mine follows, though she 
removes my shirt slowly so her hands can linger on my shoulders, 
then my arms.  Her touch is hot against my skin, those fingers I just 
held against my own suddenly coming alive.

I pull her closer, then reach around to unhook her bra.  Her chest 
rises as her breathing quickens once more.  She kisses me fiercely 
as I pull the bra off her shoulders and then place my hands over her 
breasts.  They are warm to the touch and unbelievably soft, and it's 
only moments before her nipples harden under my stroking.  Her 
pelvis grinds down over my cock, driving sensations straight up my 
spine.

Scully pulls one leg over so she is kneeling next to me, then 
reaches down to work my jeans off.  I lean back and raise my hips 
to help her out.  She moves to my feet to give each pant leg a tug 
before grabbing both and pulling off my jeans in one quick motion.  
She reaches for my boxers immediately--certainly not wasting any 
time--and frees me.  I'm already fully aroused and Scully gives me 
an approving grin.

Then she slips off her pants, taking her panties right along with 
them.  Seeing the full length of her body makes me dizzy with 
need.  I want to look at her, but almost immediately she has 
straddled me again.  She places a hand on my chest and pushes me 
back so I am leaning against the sofa once more.

She bends forward, her hair brushing against my neck and cheeks 
and kisses me so intensely my breath is lost.  While my tongue 
circles hers, she moves up my lap until she is poised over my cock.  
I feel the wet heat of her, and she strokes herself over me, making 
me damn near ready to explode.  She sits up straight again and the 
contact of her lips and my hands on her breasts are lost.  All of my 
senses are focused on the one spot where we touch.

Then, she takes me into her in one long smooth stroke that seems 
to last all night.  The "Oh God" that spills across her lips feels just 
as welcoming and hot as her body as it contracts around me and 
finds its way.  She settles over me, drawing me deeper into her, 
closing her eyes while she finds the rhythm and movement that 
suits her.  Once she's started moving over me, she opens her eyes to 
connect with me and gives me such an incredibly beautiful grin of 
amazement that my hips rise under her.

The feeling of being inside Scully seems unreal, something so far 
removed from any reality I've known as to be incomprehensible.  
Her hips undulate in an unpredictable way, taking me in and out of 
her in easy long strokes, then a circular movement of her hips to 
prolong the entry.  She leans over to kiss me again, her tongue 
pressing over mine in time with the way she rides me.  She plants 
her hands on the sofa on either side of my head to get more 
leverage.  Her up and down movement dangles her breasts in front 
of my face and I take the opportunity to lick and tease her nipples.

Her short sighs and moans echo through my head, almost as 
arousing as the way she is moving over my cock.  She pulls back a 
little so she can look down and watch the way her body takes me 
into her.  I wait as long as I can before moving, finally giving in to 
the need to be deeper inside her by rising to meet her downward 
stroke.

She lets out a huge rush of breath, then a moan, and I can't stop 
myself any longer.  I grab onto her legs and throw my hips up and 
forward to meet her, each penetration seeming to go deeper and 
deeper.  She moves faster, finally leaning back on her hands to 
change the angle, which allows her to roll her hips forward on each 
downstroke.  And then she watches me--with every move of her 
hips she watches my expression.  I seem to be able to manage a 
half-smile; I see in her eyes that she needs nothing but this.

The need and desire rise inside of me with force, my gaze falling 
onto the place where we join.  With both of us leaning back, she is 
now outside my reach, so I do the only thing I can.  I reach down 
and touch her between her legs, where my cock slides in and out.  
The touch on her clitoris makes her cry out and she jumps forward 
with me inside her, sending vibrations running through my groin.

I work over her in circles, feeling the way her movement over me 
becomes more desperate, less even.  The inside of her quivers 
around my cock, and when I press down hard she explodes into a 
muddle of groans and convulsions, her hips bucking against me 
wildly.  She cries out in one sharp shout, the spasms wrapping 
around me, massaging me.

I sit up straight and grab her around the waist to pull her forward.  I 
want to feel her body giving in to mine, to feel her tremble all over.  
She digs her fingers into my upper arms and rides out her orgasm 
in my arms.

When she's done, she sits quietly, my cock still inside her.  
"Mulder?"  Her voice is soft and dazed.

"What?"

She looks at me curiously and I have a moment of panic.  What's 
going on?  Is she about to regret this?

She takes my hand in hers, then slides off of me.  She lies back, 
and pulls me on top of her.  "Make love to me, Mulder."  

Okay, so I thought that's what we just did, but I certainly am not 
going to argue with what she wants now.  She looks at me with the 
most wide open and honest gaze I have ever seen from her.  I've 
been momentarily distracted from my body's needs, and I feel my 
heart swell up in a way that brings unwanted tears to my eyes.  She 
reaches up and strokes my cheek gently, and when she pushes her 
hips up against me I am reminded again of the unrelieved pressure 
in my groin. 

I shift from our awkward position to lie fully between her legs.  I 
push slowly inside of her, marveling at the sensation of this new 
angle, and she arches her back up toward me.  Her legs wrap 
tightly around me, encouraging me to drive deeper and faster.  I 
don't need to be asked twice.

I plunge faster, the heat from her radiating up through me like 
small electric shocks.  Her orgasm has made her slick and warm, 
and that feeling is all I'm aware of as I dip into her.  She digs her 
fingers into my ass, pulling me into her and writhing beneath me.  
Her breathing is hard and desperate against my ear, and when I pull 
back to meet her gaze, she looks at me with pure desire.  With a 
final deep plunge, the orgasm hits me, and I call out as my heat and 
hers mix deep inside her. 

As my breathing slows and I relax, I'm aware of the smell of her.  I 
dip my nose between her breasts, then to each side to take it in.  
Tart and sweet all at once, needy and satisfied.  I look up to meet 
her eyes and she beams at me.  I kiss her softly, tasting the way her 
lips feel against mine and note how different it feels to kiss her in 
this way as opposed to the desperate need of before, the way her 
bottom lip lingers just a little longer than the top.

Her touch runs over my shoulders, my back, down across my ribs, 
then up the spine.  Her hands are deft and soft, as well as 
purposeful in their wanderings.  I look forward to taking more time 
to learn her touch, and to touch her.

I'm vaguely aware of the chime of Scully's mantle clock 
somewhere in the distance.

"It's officially Christmas," she says.  The insertion of her voice into 
this moment of touch only adds to my incredible sense of 
contentment.  Her voice is so beautiful, still husky and dark from 
her desire.  I let it settle over me before speaking.

"Hey." I shift off of her and lie closely next to her, my hand resting 
on her stomach so as not to break our connection.  "Didn't you have 
a present for me?"

Scully reaches over and brushes a lock of hair off my forehead.  
"What, this wasn't good enough for you?"

"Oh, I won't be cashing in on the guarantee, that's for sure.  I just 
thought you bought me something."  I shrug and try to look hurt, 
even though I'm a long way from that.  We've been playing the gift 
game for too long now to just let it drop.

"The truth is, I didn't."  She gives me a guilty smile.

"What?  And you were all pissed off because I gave you an empty 
box?  Hypocrite."  I play indignant and pout for her.

"Yes, but the difference is," she runs her finger in teasing circles 
over my hip, "that I didn't use my non-gift to bribe you into doing 
something, like sitting on Santa's lap."

"You got me over here, didn't you?"  She gives me a look of 
surprise.  "You promised me a gift, and I came all the way over 
here, and what did I get?  Nada, squat, zippo.  Just some eggnog 
and a hat."

She slaps me lightly on the shoulder and crosses her arms.  "Fine, 
see if you have a place to go next Christmas Eve."

I roll onto my stomach and plant a kiss on the inside of her thigh.  
She shivers under me and whimpers softly.  "You'll be inviting me 
back for every major holiday, I bet."  I give a soft flick of my 
tongue against the thin skin I just kissed.

"And minor ones too," she mumbles contentedly.  

We lie still a few more moments, then she starts to stand up.  "We 
should go to bed.  Santa's coming."  

She tugs on my arms to help me up.  When we are both standing, 
she wraps her arms tightly around my waist.  

"I have news for you, Scully," I murmur into her hair.  "Santa 
already came."  She laughs brightly, then takes my hand to lead me 
to the bedroom.  On the way, she picks up the Santa hat I was 
wearing earlier, lifts the lid of the hope chest, and drops it inside.


END
_______


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sbarringer@usa.net  

All my fanfic available at:  http://www.geocities.com/s_barringer