From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 14 Dec 2001 19:33:37 -0000
Subject: The Week Before Christmas (1/3), NC-17 by Rafferty
Source: direct

Reply To: rafferty@highstream.net


TITLE:      The Week Before Christmas (1/3)
AUTHOR:     Rafferty
FEEDBACK:   rafferty@highstream.net
RATING:     NC-17 for strong sexual content and explicit words
CATEGORY:   MSR
SPOILERS:   Miniscule references to FTF, Field Trip, Arcadia and
            Millennium
KEYWORDS:   Mulder/Scully Romance, First Time, Christmas
ARCHIVE:    Please email me so I'll know where it's going
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to the collective geniuses
            of Chris Carter, 1013, FOX, David Duchovny,
            Gillian Anderson.  No money is being made.  
            Various generic federal employees mentioned, 
            including Grant Harding, belong to me.
SUMMARY:    It's the week before Christmas, and Mulder and Scully
            are realizing that they must have been very, very
            good this year.
TIMELINE:   Everything after Millennium never happened.  This 
            story takes place during the week prior to any 
            Christmas after Millennium.
NOTES:      I would like to extend a huge thank you to readers
            who gave my first story a try.  My initiation into
            the world of a fanfic author was exciting and
            wonderful, and my deepest gratitude goes out to those
            who sent such encouraging feedback.  
            And now for a humongous Thank You to my beta on this
            story, fanfic diva Tess, who very generously
            volunteered to give it a sneak-peak.  Without her,
            this story would have had a lot of rough edges and
            run-on sentences a mile long.  She is such a genuinely
            nice person and I am grateful to have had her
            assistance on this one.
FEEDBACK:   I am still in the writing learning curve, so any and
            all comments are helpful.  I'm amazed how every
            single piece of feedback I got from my first story
            set my poor heart to fluttering.  Even the ones which
            pointed out all the boo-boo's.  So please, let me
            know what you think.  You have the power - so use it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Week Before Christmas (1/3)
By Rafferty



*'Twas the week before Christmas,
and all through Scully's home
Holiday dreams were stirring,
so she called me on the phone . . .*


December 18th

"Mulder, it's me."

"Hey, Scully.  What's up?"

"I was just calling to see if you have plans for today.  I want to 
get a tree and decorate it, and I could really use some help."

"I thought you had decided not to get a tree this year," he 
reminded her.

"Yeah, well, a woman has the right, and sometimes the duty, to 
change her mind," she informed him.

That she does.

*Let's see, I get to spend quality time alone with my better half, 
showing her my manliness by hefting a tree around, and just 
generally basking in the glow of her holiday spirit.  All this in 
lieu of spending the day solo, surfing the net, doing laundry, and 
watching endless hours of television.  Is this a trick question, 
Scully?*

She interrupted his brief daydream.  "So are we doing this or not?"

God, she was *so* asking for it.

His voice dropped an octave.  "Less doo et, baby," he verbally 
leered.

He pictured her in his mind as he heard her small chuckle.
 
"Great.  Can you be here by one?"

"With bells on," he replied.

He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "I don't think 
bells will be necessary, Mulder.  I'm just going to take advantage 
of your height and your brawn."

Could he possibly adore this woman more?  "Then I'm at your 
service.  See you at one."

When they disconnected he checked his watch.  Two hours until he 
had to leave.  Enough time for two more loads of laundry and a 
shower somewhere in there.

After all, a fellow had to smell halfway decent if he was going to 
spend the day attempting to steal a girl's heart.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*Her stockings were hung
on the shower rod to dry,
There were nude ones, black ones,
even some only thigh high (sigh)...*


He showed up on time.  Scully picked a full and beautiful Douglas 
Pine, sparing only a brief pitying glance for the scruffy, 
bedraggled little tree Mulder had become attached to as soon as 
they had entered the tree lot.  He supposed it was his destiny to 
always root for the underdog, since he so often felt like one 
himself.

They tied it onto Mulder's government issued car, each agreeing in 
a silent pact that they had *no idea* how all those scratches got 
onto the roof.  

Now, they were at Scully's apartment, she fussing with the branches 
of the tree which they had set up in the corner by her fireplace, 
him staring around her living room in wonder at the Christmas 
paraphernalia which had emerged from the *seven* boxes she had 
retrieved from her storage closet.  *Seven*.  

One box was filled entirely with strands of twinkle lights.  
Another contained several stockings with no names, decorated 
candleholders, and what he guessed would be called knick-knacks in 
the shapes of Santa, reindeer, and snowmen.  One box had fitted 
compartments, each containing a separate precious ornament, of 
which Scully seemed to have an endless supply.  There were garlands 
and wreaths and spools of colored beads and fingertip towels and a 
tree skirt and a nativity scene... he was on holiday overload.

He glanced Scully's way, watching as she made her way to one of the 
boxes.  She was humming along with the holiday music playing softly 
on her stereo.  Her cheeks glowed with healthy color and she wore a 
contented smile on her face.  Suddenly his heart flooded with 
longing for all of this to be his.  This home, this tree, and most 
of all, this woman.  This honest, intelligent, impossibly beautiful 
woman, standing five feet from him untangling a strand of lights, 
oblivious to the currents of need emanating in waves from his every 
pore.

He ran a hand over his face in an attempt to snap out of his 
musings, and it was then that he noticed he had some kind of tree 
grime on his hands.

"I'll be back," he sent her way.

"'Kay," she responded without even looking up from her task.

He made his way to her bathroom.  This room was secretly one of his 
favorite places to visit in Scully's home, mainly because it was 
here that he could get a rare glimpse at a more personal side of 
her.  Contained in this small room were those items she used to 
transform herself from the wavy-haired, slightly-freckled, natural 
beauty whom he had only seen a few times, to the more glossy, 
porcelain-skinned, perfectly-manicured goddess he had the privilege 
to look at, but never really touch, every day.

He was not immune to occasionally succumbing to the urge to peer 
into a drawer or two, peek into her cabinets, or even remove the 
lid from her perfume and hold it to his nose for a forbidden whiff.  
All the bottles, creams, sprays, gels, tubes, pink razors, and 
brushes held endless fascination for him.

He was especially fond of her bath bubbles and oils.  She kept 
those on a little ornate stand by her claw-foot tub.  He loved to 
imagine her relaxing there, her bare skin covered in a pink flush 
from the heat of the water, surrounded by bubbles - or better yet, 
transparent bath oil - eyes closed, head resting on the rim of the 
tub, one hand lazily trailing one of those little spongy things 
across her breasts...

Okay, that image definitely sparked up his mood, but also had the 
unfortunate side effect of giving him a slight hard-on.  But after 
all these years of being in this state almost constantly around 
her, it had gotten so that he felt strange when he *wasn't* 
standing at half-mast.

As he washed his hands, his eyes searched the mirror for the bath 
bottles behind him, and then abruptly his gaze caught on something 
that looked kind of gauzy, hanging from the old-fashioned oblong 
shower curtain rod above her tub.  He dried his hands and turned 
around for a closer inspection.

They were stockings.  Hanging from her curtain rod.  It took him a 
moment to mentally compute a reason why they might be there.  When 
it dawned on him that she must have done laundry today too, and 
that she was drying her hand-washables in here, he realized he had 
been living alone far too long.  Diana used to do this.  So did 
Phoebe.

But neither of them had stockings that looked like *these*.  There 
was something different, yet familiar about some of them.  They had 
some kind of lace on the ends of them.  He took one of them down - 
a shimmery, sheer cream colored one.  He held the toe of it in one 
hand, then pulled the silky material across the palm of his other 
hand from toe to top, an unconscious look of wonder on his face, 
picturing a Scully leg encased inside of it being caressed by his 
own hand.  Dawning came when he reached the band of lace at the top 
and suddenly realized what he was holding.

These were thigh-highs.  Scully owned thigh-highs.  Had she ever 
worn them around him?  Christ, how could he not notice that?

He almost dropped the thing in his panic to get it back to hanging 
just so on the rod.  His hands were trembling and his stomach felt 
like it had termites in it.  He had actually dated a few women who 
had worn these things years ago, and some who had worn more 
traditional garter belts and stockings.  But for some reason, the 
idea that Scully wore them... the picture of her in them and little 
else was suddenly burned behind his eyelids, making him giddy.  Not 
to mention the fact that Mulder, Jr., was no longer merely 
catnapping, he was standing straight up, rearing to go, trying to 
see what all the fuss was about.

Mulder took a deep breath to calm himself and silently willed his 
erection to shrink as he'd done a thousand other times in the past 
when in the general vicinity of Scully.  When he had reasonable 
control again, he exited the bathroom and returned to the living 
room.

Only to be immediately confronted with her sweet little heart-
shaped ass shimmying at his eye level as she balanced herself on 
her stepladder and arranged lights on the tree.

*God Almighty, Woman,* he mentally growled as he crossed the room 
to assist.

XXXXX

She knew he had entered the room even though her back was to him - 
she always had this sixth sense about when he was near.  It boggled 
the mind to imagine the delight Mulder would get out of that little 
nugget of information.  

And if her movements faltered a bit and she experienced a little 
sharp intake of breath in surprise when she felt his hands gently 
settle on her hips, who could blame her?  The man *was* six feet of 
walking sexuality after all.

Neither of them spoke as she continued to work.  She was acutely 
aware of the warmth of his palms burning through her jeans, and she 
could swear she could feel his breath in the small of her back 
where her sweater rose every time she raised her arms.  How a girl 
was supposed to do anything productive under these conditions was 
beyond her, so she gave up on the lights.

She was amazed at how breathless her voice sounded when she glanced 
over her shoulder in his direction and requested, "Can you hand me 
that star behind you?"

His hands remained in place as he looked for the star.  When he 
spotted it, he removed one hand from her body to hold it out to 
her, leaving the other hand in place cradling her hip.  She swayed 
slightly on the stool when a shiver raced down her body from the 
chill left in the spot his hand had just vacated.

"Easy, Scully," he soothed in a low tone as she took the star from 
him.  Then he brought his hand back up in a slow caress that 
started at the outer top of her thigh and ended up in the place on 
her hip that would hereafter be known as simply 'Mulder's spot'.

She was staring unfocused at the star in her hand, temporarily 
frozen like a deer in headlights.  Then, she felt his long thumbs 
skim down, one on each buttock, right over the pockets of her 
jeans, and then they slid slowly back into place, pressing deeply 
into her muscles along the way.

She actually felt her uterus contract in timing with the movement.  
It literally took her breath away.

After a moment spent in delicious shock, she forced herself to snap 
back to reality and began to move briskly, arranging the star on 
the top of the tree.

"How does this look, Mulder?" she finally asked, her voice sounding 
wispy and hoarse to her own ears.

And his sounded like warm brandy when he answered, "Beautiful.  
Absolutely beautiful."

Something about his response didn't ring true, so she looked down 
over her shoulder at him, only to find him looking up at her with a 
'Who, me?' expression, which was completely ruined when he waggled 
his brows lasciviously at her.

"The star, Mulder.  Is it straight?" she deadpanned with all the 
sternness she could muster.  Only the slight involuntary curve of 
her mouth revealed her amusement.

He tilted his head to the side, still supporting her on the stool, 
as he studied the star.  "Looks straight to me, Scully."

She simply nodded and patted his hands to indicate she was ready to 
descend the step stool.  He obliged by releasing her and backing 
out of her way.

She spent the next two hours as the very model of efficiency, 
bustling about her apartment, spreading Christmas cheer everywhere 
she went.

When at last everything she had chosen to use this year had been 
removed from the boxes, she closed them up and put Mulder to work 
returning them to her storage closet.  While he was busy doing 
that, she started the makings of homemade hot chocolate.

He returned, washed his hands, and was standing in her living room, 
staring at her tree which she had finally lit while he was gone on 
his last trip to storage.

"It's lovely, Scully.  I can see why you went to all that trouble," 
he commented as she handed him his cup of hot chocolate.

"Thanks, Mulder.  And I don't consider it 'trouble'.  I enjoy 
pulling out all these things I've had forever and reminiscing about 
Christmases past."

He nodded and smiled a sad smile.  It reminded her of the glimpse 
she had stolen of him earlier, when he was standing in the middle 
of her living room, staring at all her boxes.  He had looked for 
all the world like a child who had been separated from his parents 
at the county fair.  He had looked lost, overwhelmed, and there was 
a rarely seen hunger running through him, a kind of a desperation 
that nearly broke her heart to witness.

*If only you felt about me the way I feel about you, Mulder,* she 
had thought at the moment.  *I would give you everything I have to 
give.  Neither of us would ever have to be lonely again.*

It was because of this side of Mulder that she had decided a couple 
of days ago to bring Christmas to him.  She had carefully 
formulated a plan.  Decorating, music, candles, and hot chocolate 
today to begin the festivities.  She had gotten him a really great 
gift.  She had already told her mother yesterday that she wouldn't 
be making it to her house on Christmas Eve and that she might be a 
little late for Roll Call on Christmas Day.  And she was going to 
invite Mulder over for Christmas Eve for dinner and companionship.  

She wasn't doing all this because she pitied him.  God knew there 
was no one else on Earth that she would rather spend her time with 
than him.  But she was realistic enough to realize that if she 
didn't do all this for him, with him, no one would.  Mulder 
wouldn't get to sit and listen to carols by a Christmas tree, or 
have someone fuss over him for a special holiday dinner, and the 
only gift he was likely to receive would be from the Lone Gunmen as 
he had no remaining family living.

She placed her hot chocolate mug on the coffee table and picked up 
the two stockings that she had set aside earlier.  She held them up 
facing him.

"Which one do you like, Mulder?"

He just looked at her in slight confusion.

She turned the stockings so she could see the fronts.  "We have a 
Father Christmas cross stitch and a plaid with jingle bells."

He tilted his head downward to bring his eyes to the level of hers.  
"Can I see what's behind door number two?"

She could tell he didn't understand her intentions.  "I'm putting 
these stockings up for us, Mulder.  Even though we say every year 
that we aren't going to exchange gifts, we always do anyway.  So, 
this year we're hanging stockings on my mantle to put our gifts in.  
Pick one."

His eyes perused her features, a gentle expression on his face.  
"Well, then I guess I'll take the plaid," he said finally.

She smiled and nodded once before taking them to the mantle and 
hanging them on the hangers she had placed there earlier.  When she 
was done, she stood back to look at them - his on the left, hers on 
the right - and was overcome with the intimacy of it.  The 
*coupleness* of it.  When she chanced a glance his way, she could 
tell he saw it too.  His eyes bored into hers, as if he were trying 
to read her soul.

Mulder finally broke the spell and went into her kitchen to rinse 
out his cup.  When he returned he was once again the relaxed, 
slightly-boyish Mulder that she knew and... well, loved.  She 
suspected he was now so cheerful because he held in his hand one 
red ribbon-tied sprig of mistletoe.

"Look what I found," he said as he entered the room, holding the 
sprig aloft, coming to a stop about a foot and a half from where 
she was standing.

Oh, no.  She knew that tone of voice.  That was his hey-Scully-
wanna-play-house tone.  The very same one she had little resistance 
to.

"I see you've found my secret stash of mistletoe," she told him 
indulgently.

"Mmm, hmm.  Wanna christen it?" he asked with only a slight leer.

"Christen it?"

"Yeah.  Just like when you move into a new place and you have to 
christen all the rooms," he informed her.  Then he theatrically 
looked around at all the parts of her apartment he could see from 
where he was standing, his focus coming back to rest on her.

"All the rooms of your apartment have been christened, haven't 
they?  Because if they haven't, I'd be glad to provide my 
services," he offered helpfully.

She had to smile in response.  *Hoo, boy.  What I wouldn't give to 
be able to take him up on his offer.*

He was grinning now too.  "I'll assume by your lack of response 
that you're all squared away in that department.  Although, I'm 
pretty sure I don't want to hear the details."

Even though she was still slightly smiling, her eyes turned more 
serious when she said, "So... we need to christen the mistletoe?"

His eyebrows rose to stress his point, "It's a universal law, 
Scully."

Her eyes dropped to his lips for a stolen moment of coveting.  That 
lower lip.  God, she could write poetry about that lip.  It always 
looked so... delicious.  And ripe for nibbling.

She brought her eyes back to his and very calmly gave him his 
answer.

"Okay."

XXXXXX

*Okay.  She said okay.  I've been given the green light to kiss 
her.*

*Mistletoe rocks!*

He swallowed down a sudden dry lump that had formed in his throat.  
"Okay, then," he said in a gravelly tone as he closed the distance 
between them.

When there were only a few scant inches separating them, he raised 
the hand that held the sprig to dangle it above her head.

"Gee, lookie there, Scully.  You're standing under mistletoe.  
Guess that means I've gotta kiss you," he teased in a soft but 
goofy voice.

It was all she could do not to burst into laughter.  "Golly, 
Mulder.  You're right.  But do we really have to talk like this?" 
she mimicked.

He gently tucked the sprig stem-first into the hair at the crown of 
her head to free up his hand.  Then he tenderly cradled her face 
between both of his hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones softly.

Her head had tilted back and he began to lower his toward her, his 
eyes focused intently on hers the entire way.

When his lips reached a point where they were barely a quarter inch 
from hers, they both involuntarily closed their eyes submitting to 
the moment and he whispered, "It's all part of the ritual, Scully."

And then he brought his mouth down onto hers in a kiss too long, 
too moist, too open-mouthed to be considered merely friendly, but 
just a hair shy of an I-want-to-crawl-inside-you kiss.  He wasn't 
getting nearly enough of a taste of her, but he was enjoying the 
hell out of inhaling her breath, feeling her lips all pliant and 
warm against his, hearing the unsteady cadence of her breathing.

Before he had even kissed her, before he even came over today, he 
had formulated a plan.  When he had kissed her on that New Year's 
Eve, she had let him make all the decisions - when, how, what 
angle, when to break it, etc.  And when he had pulled back 
slightly, she didn't pull back.  She had just stayed there, as if 
she was waiting for more.  He had thought about it since and 
decided that if he ever had another opportunity to kiss her, he 
would experiment a bit, see if he had been reading her right the 
first time.

So, here was his chance.  He'd had his mouth against hers for just 
a smidgen too long - any longer and she just might slug him.  He 
gently broke the kiss, giving in to the overwhelming need to brush 
his lips back and forth across hers softly before raising his head 
so that their lips were not quite touching, although you'd have 
been hard pressed to slide a piece of paper between them.  He 
privately called this 'Bee Territory'.

And then he waited.

Just as he had suspected, she kept her mouth poised under his, her 
breath exiting through her slightly-parted lips to fan his own.  It 
was at once bliss and agony to be so close, and yet still so far 
away.

*Inside.  I want inside,* he pleaded silently.

He could have sworn he heard a whispered, *Yes, yes, yes,* in his 
head.

They stood in this pose for only a few seconds, although to him it 
seemed much longer than that.  He just had to find a way inside.  
The forbidden wellspring he could sense just beyond her lips was 
drawing him like an oasis.  He made his decision.  He was going in.  
One small step for man - one giant step for Mulder's peace of mind.

He lowered his mouth to hers once more.

He parted her lips gently with his own and slowly forayed his 
tongue between them on a quest for hidden treasure.  She moaned 
softly at the first slide of their tongues against each other, and 
he swallowed the sound like the sweet ambrosia that it was.

His tongue slowly stroked against hers, and when he felt the tip of 
hers curl around his, his entire body hardened in a rush and he 
could have sworn he felt his heart drop about six inches in his 
chest.

He splayed his fingers through her hair and tilted her head to the 
side to more thoroughly plunder the unbelievable softness that was 
inside her mouth.

She tasted so sweet, like chocolate and like Scully.  And when she 
momentarily lost her balance and swayed slightly to the side, he 
brought one of his arms down to wrap around her waist and pulled 
her up against him.

The feel of her against him was unreal - how tiny and soft she was, 
her breasts pressed against his ribs, her small hands on his 
shoulder blades pulling him to her, her stomach cushioning his now 
rock-hard erection.  All of these sensations - combined with the 
way she was letting him make slow love to her with his mouth and 
responding to every move he made - sent his head into a tailspin.

When he needed oxygen, he dragged breath harshly through his nose 
in one long inhale.  When he discovered a new place he had yet to 
explore, he changed angles and went diving.

And when she abruptly broke off the kiss, he felt as if he was 
having a limb torn off.

XXXXXX

They were both gasping for air, foreheads touching, her hands 
fisted in his shirt to help prevent her from falling to the floor 
in a pool of goo.

"I just need... to catch my breath," she panted.

She felt his hand smooth from the top of her head all the way down 
her neck to her lower back in an attempt to soothe her.  After a 
few seconds, her heart was still threatening to pound right out of 
her chest, but it had slowed enough for her to be assured she 
wasn't going into cardiac arrest.  Her breathing calmed too.

*Oh.  My.  God.  We just kissed.  A real kiss.*

It had all happened so fast she couldn't quite catch up.  One 
minute they were playing the cutesy little mistletoe game, the next 
his mouth was balanced over hers for endless seconds, just... 
hovering... like he was asking for permission to enter, and all she 
could think of was one word, over and over - Yes.  Yes, yes, yes.

And then his mouth was on hers and his tongue was drawing hers out, 
sliding and circling and turning her bones into rubber bands.  She 
had actually almost toppled over until he wrapped an arm around her 
waist to support her.  That's when she'd felt the firmness of his 
erection pressing into her.  It had been so long for her; she'd 
almost forgotten what that felt like.

*Well, one thing's for sure.  Mulder is one helluva kisser.  He 
tastes as good as he looks, and that tongue - it should be 
registered as a lethal weapon.  And I can't believe that Mulder had 
a hard on.  For me.*

She had become so lost in the action that it was possible she had 
simply forgotten to breathe, because suddenly she was out of air 
and had to pull away.

And now, here they were, in a poignantly familiar pose.  Standing 
in her living room, foreheads together, both sets of eyes closed in 
an attempt to keep the real world at bay if only for one precious 
moment longer.

Mulder's voice was gravelly and slithered in a streak down her 
spine when he asked, "Do I need to apologize?"

She lifted her head to look at him, trying to gauge the reasoning 
behind his question.  His eyes told her all she needed to know.  
The kiss had affected him as much as it had her.  He was only 
asking because he respected her so much.

She never thought there'd come a day when she'd be wishing a man 
would respect her just a teensy bit less.

"Of course, not, Mulder," she answered in a hushed voice.  "I... 
consented."

One corner of his mouth quirked at her choice of words.  

He lightly trailed the side of his index finger around the curve of 
her jaw when he warned softly, "Well, then.  Unless you're ready to 
christen your living room, you'd better ask me to leave."

She gave him a slight smile as she pondered the options at hand.  
There really was only one option for her.  As much as she adored 
Mulder, loved him in fact, and as much as her body was currently 
cursing her for not taking him up on his offer, this was just a tad 
too quick for her.  She needed time to absorb everything that 
happened tonight, from the thumbs-on-her-ass-massage right up 
through the kiss of the century.  She wanted time to savor it, feel 
the anticipation running like quicksilver through her veins, get 
breathless every time she was near him.  She didn't need a lot of 
time, just definitely more than two minutes.

So, with her body humming and her heart leaping, she quietly 
retrieved his coat and brought it to where he remained standing, a 
rueful smile on his face.

"Thanks for your help decorating, Mulder," she spoke as she handed 
him his coat.

He leaned over to speak softly into her ear, "Anytime.  And thanks 
for kissing my socks off, Scully."

When he straightened, she could see his playful grin was back in 
place.

"Anytime," she parroted saucily, and was rewarded with a waggle of 
his eyebrows.

After he left, she went straight to her bathroom, to get a good 
look at herself in the mirror.  Her lips were bare, her hair was 
mussed, her cheeks were definitely pinker than usual, and her eyes 
were unusually bright.  She looked like she'd been well and 
thoroughly kissed.

*Yep, no doubt about it.  I never stood a chance.*

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*Scully was nestled 
all snug in her bed,
While visions of our kiss
danced in her head...*


December 19th

She had spent the day assisting her mom with some last minute 
decorating at her house.  At various times throughout the day 
flashes from the previous evening would suddenly wash over her, 
spreading a tingling warmth from her scalp to her toes, causing her 
stomach to suddenly tie into knots.  She'd barely been able to eat 
at all today.

But she relished each distraction, allowing herself to become 
caught up in the deliciousness of remembering Mulder's hands on 
her, and his mouth making sweet tender love to hers.  And if, at 
times, her focus drifted and a dreamy expression came over her 
features, Maggie Scully tamped down her own rampant curiosity and 
pretended not to notice.  She knew that if her daughter had 
something to tell her, she would do it in her own way and on her 
own schedule.

Scully had taken her cell phone with her, of course.  She had been 
so sure he would call today, but he hadn't.

So, here she was, nearly eleven o'clock at night, sitting up in her 
own bed thumbing through a medical journal without really reading 
anything, wondering what the hell was wrong with that man.

While it was true that she could just as easily call him, it 
bothered her so much that the entire day had gone by without any 
contact from him that now she was just being ridiculously stubborn.  
If she were to be truthful with herself, she would realize that she 
was testing him.  She had no idea how he would treat a woman in a 
relationship, never having witnessed it herself firsthand or 
otherwise, but she felt strongly that just because they had been 
the best of friends for years it didn't relieve him of his 
obligation to treat her like any other woman he had just kissed 24 
hours previously.

She had never had to call the man after their first 'encounter' in 
any of her previous relationships, and she didn't plan to start 
now.

As a result, she sat there snuggled in her bed, silently stewing, 
willing the phone to ring with every little telepathic cell in her 
entire brain.

Of course, her heart skipped a beat when at last the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Scully.  It's me," he spoke in even more of an intimate tone 
than usual.

Her heart melted despite her aggravation.  She smiled softly.  "Hi, 
me."

"Did you have fun with your mother today?" he asked.

"How did you know I was at my mother's today?"

"You mentioned it last week.  You said you were going over there 
today to help her put up decorations," he reminded her.

Oh, yeah.

"I hope it's not too late to call.  I wanted to give you plenty of 
time to spend with your mother."

Awww.  Here she had been in agony all day, when all along he was 
only trying to be considerate.  It was so like him.  She was amazed 
she hadn't realized that had been his intention.  She had simply 
forgotten that she had mentioned her plans for today to him last 
week.

"It's not too late.  I'm in bed, but I wasn't asleep.  And I'm glad 
you called," she added in her own low voice.

There was a brief pause, and then his voice dropped an octave.  
"Hey, Scully.  What are you wearing?"

He just never gave up.  Thank God.  "I'm not going to tell you.  
You'll just have to use your imagination."

A shiver snaked its way down her spine at the frank sensuality in 
his tone as he replied, "Believe me, Scully.  I am.  And I must 
say, you look... good enough to eat."

Well, that was quite an image.  The hand that wasn't holding the 
receiver came up to nervously toy with the top button of her pajama 
top.

"Are you still there?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

She cleared her throat, then answered, "Mmm, hmmm."

"What are you thinking?"

She expelled a quick breath in surprise.  A slow smile spread 
across her face, and she felt a blush steal up from her neck to 
spread its way across her face all the way to her hairline.

"I'm thinking...," she began.  *Come on, Dana, you can be as bold 
as he can.  You've trained at the heels of a master, after all.*  
"I'm thinking 'Mulder slipped me the tongue last night... and I'm 
wondering when he's going to do it again.'"

Now it was her turn to revel in the shocked silence that followed.  
*Take **that**, Mulder.  Paybacks are hell, aren't they?*

"Invite me over, Scully."

Hoo, boy.

She should have known he would recover quickly.  She suspected 
hearts were breaking all over the greater Washington, D.C., area.  
She knew with a certainty that her own was in peril.

"Mulder, it's eleven o'clock.  I need my beauty sleep."

"You know, I could have sworn you just said, 'Mulder, I'd love for 
you to come over.  Run every red light you see.  Pajamas are 
optional.'"

She rewarded him with a low, throaty laugh.  He was so 
incorrigible.  How was a girl supposed to resist?

"That's funny, because what I really said was, 'No.'  Where that 
red light and pajama business came from I have no idea."

"A man's gotta have dreams, right, Scully?"

"Speaking of which... sweet dreams, Mulder.  I'll see you in the 
morning at the office."

"Goodnight, Scully," he said, his voice dripping with warm honey.

"'Night, Mulder," she responded intimately.

When they disconnected, she settled back into her pillows and 
placed a hand over her racing heart.  Verbally dueling with Mulder 
had always given her a secret thrill, but this... this was like 
shooting through space and bouncing off asteroids.  Scary.  
Exciting.

Dangerous.

And when her head finally hit the pillow after she had turned off 
the lamp, she drifted to sleep while visions of MulderKisses danced 
in her head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*And Scully in Donna Karan,
and myself in Armani
Had just settled at our desks
for our first cup of morning coffee...*


December 20th

He could hear the distinctive click of those impossibly high heels 
she always wore as she approached the door to their office.  Every 
hair on his body stood on end in anticipation.  It couldn't be more 
than sixty degrees in here, but suddenly he could have sworn it was 
about ninety.

When she rounded the corner and paused in their doorway, his eyes 
locked on hers and they shared a moment of mutual awareness from 
across the room.  As she slowly entered the office and walked 
toward his desk, his gaze meandered on its own volition down her 
body.  He leaned back in his chair and brought the fingers of one 
hand up to rub his lips as he appreciated the liquid motion of her 
movements.

He couldn't tell if she was wearing those tempting thigh-highs, and 
decided it was better that he not know.  This way he could assume 
she was.  He mentally painted an image over her form, a virtual 
topcoat composed of soft, pale Scully skin and delicate lingerie.

God, help him.  

The activity in his groin was so acute it was almost painful.  He 
wasn't going to last five minutes, much less the entire day.

When she reached his desk, he dragged his gaze back up to hers.  
She was doing that eyebrow thing.  His unbearably hard cock gave a 
slight twitch in return greeting.

There was a knowing smirk on her face when she finally broke the 
silence and said, "If that's a bagel in your pocket, Mulder, it 
could be love."

He flashed her a predatory smile.  "Sorry, no bagels here.  All 
I've got is one hundred percent male appreciation."

She lifted her arm to drop a bag from the bakery onto his desktop.  
"So I noticed."

She reached into the bag and withdrew a bagel with everything and a 
little pot of cream cheese and placed them on a napkin on his desk.

"Thanks," he offered out of habit.

She picked up the bag and smoothly moved over to her desk, where 
she removed her coat, put away her purse, and sat down to unload 
her own bagel from the bag.  As she was settling in, Mulder got up 
and poured her a cup of coffee from their own private coffee maker, 
mentally reciting the names of each U.S. Vice President in 
chronological order of their office terms in an attempt to tame the 
wild beastie below his belt.

He brought her coffee to her and placed it on her desk blotter.  
She still had a knowing smile on her face, and her gaze dropped 
briefly to the obvious bulge below his belt.

"Thanks for the coffee, Mulder.  Oh, and you'd better get rid of 
*that* before our nine o'clock meeting with Skinner."

He smiled wickedly, then placed both hands on her desk as he leaned 
slightly toward her and offered her a suggestion and a warning.  
"Then why don't you help me out?  You can either alleviate the 
problem with the obvious remedy, or you can sit over here and 
behave and try not to look so damned sexy."

He tamped down a surge of lust when her perfectly painted lips 
parted in surprise.

Then she regained her composure and cleared her throat, "Alright.  
I'll take option number two.  I'll behave if you will."

He simply nodded and returned to his desk, arranging himself more 
comfortably as he sat.

It was then that he realized he was going to get very little work 
done today.  Today was going to be hell.  Pure, unadulterated, 
undiluted hell.

And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*When out at the mall
I started to panic;
If I didn't find Scully the perfect gift
I was going down like the Titanic...*


December 21st

He must be insane.  Nobody in his right mind would venture out to 
the mall, during the prime evening shopping hours, three shopping 
days before Christmas.  When was he going to learn to buy Scully's 
present *before* Thanksgiving so he could avoid this madness?

Every year it was the same story.  He wanted so badly to get her 
the perfect gift, one that would really be an expression of all 
that she meant to him.  And every year he ended up out in the 
frenzy, clueless as to how to find said perfect gift, the panic of 
the masses of other procrastinators rubbing off on him as he 
brushed past them through the stores.  Then he usually gave up and 
purchased her something lame, like a key chain or a video.

But this year was different.  This Christmas season they had 
embarked on the beginnings of what promised to be a relationship to 
last a lifetime.  She was 'The One'.  He knew it with a certainty 
that had him grinning like an idiot.  Had actually known it for a 
very long time, but was only recently getting to experience the 
dream-come-true that she apparently felt the same way about him.  

Indeed, only for her would he brave the wild stampede of beasts 
better known by the absurdly genteel name of  'Holiday Shoppers'.

As he snaked his way through the crowds, passing store after store 
containing candles, bath stuff, clothing, shoes, purses, home 
furnishings, art, and various other articles on display, he began 
to feel his spirits sag.  She didn't need any of this.  As a 
general rule, if Scully wanted something, she went out and bought 
it.  How do you shop for someone like that?

He glimpsed a possible ray of light at the end of the tunnel when 
he spotted Victoria's Secret.  He stopped in front of the store to 
study the scant clothing hanging on the hairless, faceless, 
unbelievably narrow mannequins in the window.  His imagination was 
working overtime as he pictured Scully's far more enticing body 
barely concealed by each set of sexy lingerie on display.  She 
would look great in them all.

Hell, let's be honest here.  She would look great in a burlap sack.

One set in particular caught his eye.  It was a midnight blue bra 
and panty set made of satin.  There was no lace, no embroidery, and 
the panties were cut fairly conservatively.  All together, it was a 
simple little number - smooth, classy, sedate - and would suit 
Scully to a tee.  His mouth actually watered as he daydreamed of 
peeling it off her porcelain skin, inch by inch.  Yummm.

She'd probably smack him if he got that for her for Christmas.  
Nothing says 'I want to screw you' quite like a sexy little bra and 
panty set boxed up with a pretty red bow.  He may as well just buy 
her a jumbo box of condoms to say what he *really* means.  Besides, 
he could just imagine entering the store, asking for the panty in a 
size 'tiny' and the bra in a size 'perfect handfuls'.  Nope, not 
gonna do it.  Here there be slimy sewer dragons.

He'd just store this particular little gift idea away until, say, 
Valentine's Day.  He was fairly certain he'd have the opportunity 
to check the tags on her underwear by then, hopefully as he was 
peeling said garments off of her.

He continued moving at a crawl along the walkway of the mall, his 
mind drifting to the events of yesterday.  Their workday had been 
spent with him doing his best to make her squirm by ogling her from 
across the room.  After a while, she became adept at ignoring him 
and was able to actually accomplish something, whereas he hadn't 
been able to focus on anything but her all day.

He had arrived uninvited on her doorstep later that evening, two 
videos in hand as offerings - "Steel Magnolias" and "Hope Floats" - 
two of her all-time favorites.  Personally, they were too smarmy 
for him, but he secretly always loved it when Scully cried during 
the Sally Field funeral scene in "Steel Magnolias", and during the 
closet scene in "Hope Floats".  She got all soft and vulnerable, 
oozing all sorts of feminine hormones that made him want to wrap 
himself around her and protect her from all the misery in the real 
world.

So, they sat side by side on her couch and watched "Hope Floats", 
and when Scully's eyes had started to look suspiciously shiny as 
the closet scene approached, he took her hand gently in his own and 
laced their fingers together.  She gave his hand a brief squeeze to 
thank him, and their hands stayed linked for the rest of the movie.  
It was juvenile, nerve-wracking, and... well, sweet.

He had kissed her goodnight at her door.  The kiss had started out 
as a tender second meeting of lips, and then quickly segued into 
something deeper, something more primal and urgent.

Sexual chemistry was *not* something they had to worry about.  They 
had it in spades.  It practically poured off them when they were 
within five feet of each other.

When he had gotten home last night, his nerves were pulled taut 
from the constant arousal he'd experienced since he'd awakened that 
morning, so he had felt compelled to take matters into his own 
hands, so to speak.

Needless to say, he was a bit more relaxed today.

Last night, Scully had indulgently admonished him for his lewd 
behavior in the office that day, making it clear that the more 
personal aspects of their relationship had to remain on their 
personal time.  He'd known that.  He supposed he'd just been 
testing her, a little high from the newness of it all.  So, today 
he was on his best behavior and he'd actually gotten a little work 
done.

And now, here he was, entrenched in Fa,la,la-land.  Bah humbug.

Panic was starting to set in.  He could just picture the carefully 
masked disappointment on her face if he gave her another completely 
impersonal gift.

Then he passed by a jewelry store.  And stopped.  He'd thought of 
it every year and always ruled it out as *too* personal.  But this 
year, this week, everything had changed.  

It couldn't hurt to look, he reasoned as he entered the store.

It only took him ten minutes to find it.  The perfect gift.  
Another five minutes and he was out the door, eyes slightly dazed 
and a hopeful smile on his lips.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*Away to her desk
I flew with a start;
When I saw what was there,
I felt a fist squeeze my heart...*


December 22nd

When he entered their office the next morning, the first thing he 
noticed was that Scully wasn't there yet.  This wasn't unusual 
since he was the one who usually got there first.  But the second 
thing he noticed was odd.

There was a present on Scully's desk.

He hung up his coat and crossed to her desk, curiosity drawing him 
there like a magnet.  It was a small present, maybe three inches on 
each side and four or five inches tall.  It was gaily wrapped in 
holiday paper and had a tiny, shiny red bow on top.  Underneath was 
a card.

Well, hell.

Who the hell had left Scully a gift?  Who here knew her well enough 
to know that she'd accept one?

Skinner.  Had to be Skinner.  Or Kimberly.  Except there was no 
gift on his own desk, and it would be uncharacteristically rude of 
either of them to bring Scully a present and leave Mulder out.

Had he pissed someone off more than usual recently?

As much as he was dying to open the card and read it, he didn't, of 
course.  Even he was above that.

So, he started the coffee maker, sat down and leaned back in his 
chair with his feet propped on his desk, and counted the minutes 
until she walked in and solved the mystery.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*With her hand on her breast,
the corner of her smile in a lift,
And a luster of a blush,
she carefully opened her gift...*


Scully entered the office and immediately noted the scowl on 
Mulder's face.

*Uh, oh.  Not a good sign.*

When she had talked to him last night on the phone everything had 
seemed to be moving along smoothly.  His ever-present charm had 
been in fine form during their conversation, causing her to have to 
bite her own tongue to keep from asking him to come over at ten 
o'clock at night.

But obviously this morning was a different story.

She hung up her coat and crossed the room to pour herself a cup of 
coffee.  She leaned her hips against the edge of her desk to face 
him, crossed her ankles, and took a sip.  He had watched her as she 
moved, seesawing a pencil rapidly back and forth between two 
fingers, his gaze probing her as if trying to see right through her 
skin to her heart.

"What's up, Mulder?"

"Why don't you tell me?" was his enigmatic reply.  The pencil 
continued to whirl.  Ohhhkaay.

She calmly took another sip of her coffee before twisting her torso 
around to set it on her blotter.  It was then that she noticed the 
present sitting on her desk.

She reached out to pick it up along with the card resting 
innocently beneath.  "Where did this come from?"

"I don't know.  It was here when I got here this morning," he 
grumbled.

It was obvious from the pout on his face that he was jealous.  Fine 
by her.  A little healthy competition never hurt anyone.  Besides, 
it was possible it was from a woman.  But not probable.  She had a 
suspicion that she knew the identity of the bearer of her little 
gift, and if it was from *him*, Mulder had every reason to be 
jealous.

She placed the present on her desk and opened the card.  Yep.  It 
was from Grant.  He was a senior lab analyst on the second floor.  
They had, on occasion, worked together when analyzing some 
substances for an X-File.  He was tall, had a wicked sense of 
humor, and was undeniably gorgeous.  In many ways, he reminded her 
of Mulder.  For some reason, Grant was very interested in her.  He 
had let her know several times that if she ever returned his 
interest, he'd be more than happy to date her.  She had actually 
considered it a couple of months ago, except there was only one 
problem with him.

He wasn't Mulder.

She retrieved the present and efficiently removed the bow and 
wrappings.  When she opened the box and parted the tissue paper 
inside, a delighted smile crossed her face.

It was a small plastic snowman, with a Hershey's kiss for a hat and 
another one nestled in each of the little plastic sticks poking out 
of its body in the place of arms.  Awww.  It was so sweet.

Her eyes snapped to Mulder's when she heard the sharp *thwack* of a 
pencil piercing the ceiling above Mulder's head.

"Is there a problem, Mulder?"

XXXXXX

*Is there a problem?  Just because you're sitting there all hot and 
bothered over some cutesy little snowman thing with your hand on 
your breast, a dreamy smile on your face, and a twinkle in your 
eye?  Nah, why should there be a problem?*

He chose not to respond to her question.  Instead he asked, "Are 
you going to tell me who its from?"

It was her turn to ignore him.  She stood and began to walk slowly 
toward his desk, hips rolling like a runway model's.  On second 
thought, the motion was more predatory, like a gunslinger's.  He 
wouldn't have been surprised if she had pulled her weapon from its 
holster and pointed it at his heart.  The way he'd been behaving - 
he figured he deserved it.

He lowered his feet to the floor and put down the pencil he'd been 
worrying between his fingers.

God she was magnificent when she was angry.

She placed her hands apart on his desk as she leaned slightly 
toward him.  When she spoke it was with that hushed, ultra-low 
voice she only used when she was really pissed.

"Get a grip, Mulder," she warned.  "Yes.  It's from a man.  And no.  
I am not interested in him.  That doesn't mean I don't appreciate 
the gesture."

And with that said, she straightened and returned to her desk to 
sit down, apparently able to shut out his presence completely as 
she began working.

*Well, I guess she put me in my place,* he thought.  

Unable to end the scene without getting in the last word, yet 
afraid to say anything else that would make her even more angry, he 
grabbed a pencil, whirred it a couple of seconds, and with a flick 
of his wrist sent it soaring overhead.

His expression turned smug with satisfaction when he heard the 
sharp *thwack* of the tip of the pencil burying itself deep into 
the cork.

XXXXX

After Mulder had thrown his little pencil tantrum, the mood in the 
office had slowly eased and they had gotten some research and 
paperwork done.  They ate lunches they had brought with them to 
work at their respective desks, and continued to work productively 
until around five o'clock when she shut down her computer and began 
to clear her desk.

He rose and came over to lean a hip against her desk.

"Are you still angry with me?" he asked softly.

"No.  You can't help it that you're a possessive Neanderthal," she 
assured him gently with a smile.  He grinned back.

He leaned slightly toward her to lower his voice even more.  "My 
place, pizza?"

Actually, she usually didn't mind going to his apartment.  She'd 
spent enough time there over the years that it kind of felt like 
her home away from home.  However, there were only a few days left 
before Christmas, and she wanted to spend them in her own apartment 
surrounded by her cozy decorations and her beautiful tree.

"My place, Chinese?" she countered.

"Your bed... edible body oil?"

She shot him The Brow.  He just never gave up.

"My place.  Chinese," she stated firmly.

He exhaled a heavy sigh of mock resignation.  

"Your place.  Chinese."

XXXXX

That night lying alone in her bed, she replayed the events of the 
evening in her head.  The Chinese food had been delicious, as 
always.  There had been some wine.  They had sat on her couch in 
front of the twinkling Christmas tree for hours, laughing and 
talking, with quite of bit of teasing thrown in from Mulder.  

He was such a shameless flirt, and he was so good at it.  And the 
best part of all was that, in all the years she had known him, she 
could honestly say she'd never seen him flirt with anyone except 
herself.

As the hour grew late, they had begun kissing on her couch, making 
out like horny teenagers.  Somehow she had ended up straddling his 
lap.  Body parts pressed against body parts, sparks were flying.  
No one had ever turned her on so quickly or so hard as this man.  
She had been convincing herself to give in to the urge to progress 
their necking to its next natural step, but for some reason he had 
stopped them.  

His hold on her heart had squeezed even tighter when he told her 
that he wanted to give her just a little more time to get used to 
the idea of them being together.

Was it any wonder she was head over heels in love with this man?

He had bid her goodnight and left, and now, as she snuggled deeper 
into the billowy softness of her bed, she allowed herself a rare 
foray into the forbidden fantasy of making love with Mulder.

If he made love even half as well as he kissed, she wasn't sure she 
would survive it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*When what to my wondering
eyes should appear?
But Scully in a red dress,
with a slit up to here...*


December 23rd

She exited the elevator into the basement and walked slowly to 
their office door, the stiletto heels of her new red shoes making 
sharp little tapping noises that echoed through the hallway.

Today was the office Christmas party - the perfect excuse to knock 
Mulder on his adorable rear by wearing her new red dress.  It was a 
simple design, and was made of luxuriously soft and shimmery silk.  
It was long-sleeved, with a scooped and delicately scalloped 
neckline, a fitted bodice that hugged her curves and emphasized the 
flat plane of her stomach, and a hemline which ended a couple of 
inches above her knees.  Coupled with the matching serpentine fuck 
me shoes she had bought to wear with it, it made her legs look a 
great deal longer than they actually were.  

Even though the outfit officially complied with dress code, it was 
far more daring than she had ever worn to the office, or anywhere 
else around Mulder for that matter, since the day they had first 
met.

She entered their office, chancing a brief, anxious glance in his 
direction, noticing that he had been watching for her entrance.  
She immediately crossed to the coat stand, a nervous flutter in her 
stomach as she removed her coat.  She ran her hands down her hips 
to make sure the dress was laying smoothly, then turned to face 
Mulder fully for the first time since she had entered the room.  

*Good God.  If looks could start a fire, I'd be a pile of ashes 
right now.*

She just stood there, frozen into place by the heat of his gaze, 
and watched as he rose and crossed the room without taking his eyes 
off her.  She knew he was about to break their little rule of no 
contact in the office, but she couldn't seem to muster the desire 
to care.

He slowly paced in an arc around her, effectively stalking her.  
When he disappeared from view she didn't turn her head to track 
him, just remained standing there, her body finely tuned to his 
movements behind her.  Her heart gave a little start when she heard 
the door shut and the deadbolt slide into place.

Her breathing was shallow and the butterflies in her stomach had 
been stirred into a frenzy as she sensed his approach at her back.  
She felt the warmth of his body from head to heels as he stepped up 
right behind her.  

He placed a foot on either side of hers and snaked his left hand 
around her waist so that his hand came to rest splayed possessively 
across her lower stomach.  He used his other hand to gently sweep 
her hair away from the right side of her face, then that hand came 
around to settle on her ribs, just beneath her breasts.

She was now surrounded by him, his warmth and intoxicating scent 
combining to cast a potent spell over her.  Just now, she didn't 
think there was anything he could ask of her that she wouldn't 
give.

He tilted his head down and lightly trailed his nose from her 
collarbone all the way up her neck.  Her nipples tightened into 
hard little points when she felt his fevered breath against her 
skin.

He brought his lips to her ear, and demanded in a low rumble, 
"Screw work, Scully.  Your desk or mine?"

A harsh breath rushed out of her when her body shuddered in 
response.

When she could breathe again, she answered, "I take it that means 
you like the dress."

He lightly traced the outer whorl of her ear with the tip of his 
tongue before responding, "I'm pretty sure this dress is illegal in 
forty-eight states, Scully."

Her body stiffened.  "Is it too much?  Should I go home and 
change?"

"Mmmm," he groaned as his mouth came down to nibble on the side of 
her neck, his thumbs moving against her ribcage and below her belly 
button in a soothing pattern.  "Why don't we just remove it.  Then 
we won't have to worry about it getting messed up when you're on 
your back on my desk."

She could always count on Mulder to reduce everything to its lowest 
common denominator.

Her head lolled back to rest on his left shoulder when she felt one 
of his thumbs lightly brush against her nipple.  His other hand was 
slowly rubbing back and forth just above the triangle of hair 
between her legs.

She could feel the rigid length of his erection pressing 
insistently into her lower back.

"I want to make love to you, Scully," he breathed against her neck.

Oh, God.

Moisture was pooling rapidly between her thighs and she could 
actually feel her center heating, expanding to receive him.

This was getting out of hand.  "Mmmm, Mulderrrr... stop.  We have 
to stop."

His lips and his hands abruptly stilled.  He rested his chin on her 
shoulder as he attempted to calm his breathing.  They both just 
stood there, no other sound in the room except the unsteady rhythms 
of their breathing.

Finally, Mulder released her and stepped back, leaving her to 
shiver slightly when the cold air suddenly hit all the places on 
her body he had recently claimed as his own.

He came around to face her, his eyes drawn to the flush still 
evident on her chest.  He then skimmed his gaze down her form, 
languidly trailing it back up to rest on her face.

"That's one hell of a dress, Scully."

She flashed him a knowing smile as she inwardly thought, *And 
that's one hell of an understatement, Mulder.*

XXXXX

As they entered the room where the party was already swinging into 
gear, Mulder's eyes quickly scanned the crowd assembled, noting to 
his chagrin that Scully's entrance had not gone unnoticed by the 
male population.  There wasn't a man in the room who wasn't 
watching her right now; some slack-jawed, some with drinks poised 
halfway to their lips, and others with predatory gleams in their 
eyes.

Mulder's entire body tensed in heightened alert as he possessively 
placed a hand at the small of her back.

He was completely unaware that there were more than a few women 
currently watching him; forcing their backs a little straighter, 
sucking in their stomachs a little tighter, pursing their lips into 
more of a sexy pout, simply because the delicious Fox Mulder was 
now in attendance.

He had to tamp down the urge to ask her to go home and change out 
of that infernal dress.  If he did ask, he was certain she would 
slug him right here in front of everyone.  But didn't she know she 
looked like walking, breathing sex in that thing?  Admittedly, 
there was nothing overtly risque about it - it covered her 
sufficiently in all the appropriate places.  But, damn.  The way it 
hugged her curves and showcased her legs was a lure no man alive 
could resist.

Mulder leaned his head down to Scully's ear.  "You know, we could 
skip this and have our own little party at home," he suggested 
hopefully.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder.  We need to socialize."

He straightened, his jaw set in a determined ridge, and prepared to 
stand back and uncomfortably watch Scully as she worked the room, 
smiling and touching and spreading her sweet little holiday cheer 
to everyone in sight.  This was going to be a very long couple of 
hours.

"I'm going to talk to Leah and Christy," she informed him.  "You'll 
be okay?"

He nodded in response and watched her make her way gracefully over 
to a small pack of women huddled in a cluster by the buffet table.

*Sure, Scully.  I'll be okay.  I'll just stand over here and shoot 
daggers with my eyes at any man who comes within five feet of you.  
No problem.*

He remembered the card and shmarmy little gift she had received 
yesterday, the identification of the sender still unknown to him.  
So, he started a profile on every man in the room, mentally 
scanning his brain for any little tidbit of information which might 
help him distinguish Scully's secret Santa.  He knew the culprit 
had to be here at the party.  Virtually everyone from their section 
of the bureau came to this party every year for the free food and 
drinks voluntarily provided by management.

He eliminated anyone who was married.  He didn't think Scully would 
have had such a pleased reaction to a gift given to her by a 
married man.  He eliminated those he felt certain were gay, 
including a few who had actually hit on him in the past.  He 
temporarily discounted several whom he didn't think Scully knew 
personally.  That left him with quite a few men to stare down and 
mentally pick apart.

There was Rocher from Accounting.  He was the intelligent, quiet 
type, and had always had an obvious crush on Scully.  It was 
possible he was the culprit, but Mulder didn't think it probable. 
He didn't think Rocher would have the nerve to give Scully a 
present knowing Mulder would be there to see her open it. 

His gaze moved on to the next one.  Danvers, from Violent Crimes.  
He'd always had animosity toward Mulder since back when they had 
worked in the same unit.  The feeling was mutual.  He was a jerk 
who thought he knew everything, and wasn't above stepping on anyone 
who got in his way to the top.  Funny, his career hadn't seemed to 
move very far over the years.  He was currently ogling Scully in a 
sleazy way.  Mulder marked him off his mental list, at least 
temporarily, because Scully was too classy to be flattered by the 
attentions of such a slimeball.

Mulder paused his investigation to observe Scully leaving her pack 
of women, her eyes seeking and finding his from across the room as 
she moved.  They shared a secret smile before she joined a group 
that included both sexes.  He relaxed slightly when he noted that 
he'd already ruled out all the men in that group as either married 
or gay.  

And so, he took a moment to procure a drink from the bar behind 
him, then he resumed his stance and his search continued.

The next unknowing participant up for study was Harding from the 
lab.  He was standing about ten feet away from Scully, and 
currently eyeing her over the rim of his drink as he took a sip.  
Mulder watched from across the room as Scully turned her head to 
scan the space around her, and when their eyes met, Harding raised 
his cup in greeting, prompting her to smile affectionately in 
return before redirecting her attention to her group.

The exchange was brief and relatively innocent, but it was enough 
for Mulder to focus on Harding with more intense scrutiny.

Mulder supposed some would think Harding remotely resembled George 
Clooney.  He was tall and had a moderately athletic build, had 
those crinkly wrinkles around his eyes from smiling so much, and 
had an impressive set of white teeth.  It was difficult for Mulder 
to hold any rancor toward Harding because he was always so helpful 
to Scully when she had called upon his expertise for an X-File.  He 
had also been guarded but polite to Mulder the few times they had 
actually come into contact with each other.

The more he watched Harding watching Scully, the more convinced he 
became that he was the one who had given her the card and present.  
What was his first name?  Grady?  Grayson?  No, Grant.  Yeah, 
that's it.  Grant Harding.  What the hell kind of name is *Grant*, 
anyway?  Sounds like something from a Jane Austen novel.

Mulder mentally put Harding at the top of the list of likely 
suspects, and continued to scan the room while sipping at his 
drink.

XXXXX

Continued in Part 2

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He noticed Scully was on the move again and watched as she and 
Kimberly approached the buffet and began to fill their plates, 
chatting and laughing quietly as they went.  When Scully bent 
slightly at the waist to reach for something on the other side of 
the table, Mulder allowed his eyes to trail down the rounded curve 
of her heart-shaped rear.  It was all he could do not to groan 
aloud.  That dress did wicked things to an already delectable ass.

His eyes meandered their way to the slit in the side of her skirt.  
It was about six inches long, and apparently designed to conceal 
more than it revealed since he hadn't gotten a much of a glimpse of 
skin through it all day.  But just now, while she was reaching, the 
slit parted all the way to its vee.  It was then that he spotted 
the lace.

Thigh-highs.  Scully was wearing thigh-highs.  

She was trying to kill him.

Lust rampaged through his body like a freight train as he imagined 
that she was wearing the very stocking he had run through his palms 
only a few days ago.

He placed his drink on the table behind him without taking his eyes 
off her.  Then he stuffed that hand in his pocket and his feet 
shifted restlessly as he felt a familiar tingling in his groin.  He 
brought his other hand up to toy with his lower lip as he watched 
her continue down the buffet, stretching and reaching with heart-
stopping regularity.  

He was unaware that his head had dipped and his eyes had taken on a 
feral glow as he drifted off into fantasy... Scully sprawled on his 
lap... him expertly coaxing that sheer piece of silk down her 
elegant thigh... his hands smoothing over her skin as he undressed 
her slowly...

"Jesus, Mulder, get a grip on yourself before someone notices."

Ah oh.  Busted.

He turned his head to notice that Skinner had approached his side 
and was currently studying Scully too.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Mulder queried with a mask of innocence.

Skinner's knowing gaze met his own.  "Oh, come on, Mulder.  Why 
don't you two just get a room and be done with it?"

Mulder nearly choked on that one.  He reached behind him to 
retrieve his drink and took a long, healthy swallow as an avoidance 
tactic.  He went back to watching Scully.  It was much easier to do 
that than to face the man beside him who saw through him much too 
clearly.

"Look," Skinner began.  "What the two of you do on your personal 
time is no one's business but your own.  But Christ, Mulder.  Don't 
you think it's time you told her how you feel?"

*I'm getting to it, sir.  I'm a lot closer to it than you think.*

He was uncomfortable discussing this here, with his boss no less, 
so he went on the offense.  "You're right, sir.  It is no one's 
business."

Skinner didn't respond.  He simply turned his head toward Scully 
and took another sip of his drink.

Then they both watched intently as Grant Harding crossed the room 
to approach Scully, where she was standing next to Kimberly and 
eating from her plate.  They continued to watch as Harding leaned 
down to speak more closely to Scully's ear, a movie star smile in 
place.

Whatever he said must have been good, because suddenly she was 
grinning from ear to ear.  Mulder thought he was going to be sick.

"A piece of advice, Mulder," Skinner spoke from beside him.  "If 
you don't take her up on what she's been obviously reserving for 
you for years, she's going to get tired of waiting.  And then 
someone else is going to snatch her up.  If I were ten... even five 
years younger, I'd give you a run for the money myself."

And with that said, Skinner turned and walked away.

Mulder watched his boss and friend as he retreated.  Well, *that* 
was interesting.

When Mulder turned back to search for Scully, Harding was no longer 
with her and she was chatting and laughing with Kimberly as they 
ate.

Personally, he'd had about all of the holiday spirit he could 
stomach for one afternoon.

XXXXX

Another hour passed before he was able to talk her into leaving the 
party.  It was still in full swing, the noise now a little louder 
as everyone was starting to get a little tipsy.  But she wanted to 
leave work early today so she could go home and begin preparations 
for Christmas Eve dinner at her house tomorrow.

He had offered to come to her place tonight and help with the 
preparations, but she had gently turned him down, stating that she 
was certain she wouldn't get very much work done with him around to 
distract her.

It's about time the shoe was on the other foot.

As Scully was throwing his plastic drink cup away for him, Mulder 
noticed that Harding was watching their interaction from across the 
room.  When Scully returned to his side, he purposely slid his hand 
down her back, allowing it to settle possessively in the dip that 
seemed to be made just for him.

He shot a smug glance at Harding before opening the door and 
ushering her through.

*Take **that**, Hershey's Snowman Guy.  You can send her all the 
gooey presents you want, but when its all said and done, the woman 
will **always** leave with me.*

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*When I spotted it on her mantle,
so cheesy and slick,
I knew in a moment,
it must be from that prick...*


December 24th

Scully was in the kitchen, working her culinary magic.  Mulder had 
made a heroic attempt to help, but after several teasing gropes and 
one too many fresh rolls pilfered and popped whole into his mouth, 
she had shooed him away with instructions to amuse himself in her 
living room.

There was fresh snow outside the windows.  The tree was lit and 
sparkling, there was Christmas music playing softly in the 
background, candles burned on every available surface, and he had 
built an impressive fire in the fireplace.

Altogether, the atmosphere was the epitome of an intimate Christmas 
celebration.

He sat down on the couch, resisting the urge to turn on the 
television.  Instead, he laid his head against the back of the 
cushion and closed his eyes, soaking up the sensation of being in 
Scully's home on this special day.  The mingled aromas of roasted 
turkey, cinnamon candles, and evergreen wafted around him and he 
tried to commit the unique scent to memory.

He finally lifted his head and opened his eyes, only to have them 
land immediately on a little plastic snowman sitting on the mantle, 
right next to *his* stocking hanger.  Next to it was a card he 
didn't recognize.  He had noticed several cards on her mantle a few 
days ago when they had decorated her apartment, but he was fairly 
certain that he didn't remember seeing this one.  He rose to study 
it more closely.

It had a winter forest scene on it, done in watercolors, and 
depicted an old-fashioned Father Christmas walking through the snow 
carrying a cloth sack.  It was beautiful, and obviously not the 
kind of card that came packaged twenty to a box.  His curiosity was 
peaked as he wondered who had sent it to her.

Then, suddenly, he became convinced it was from *him*.  Hershey's 
Snowman Guy.  Here was his chance to find out who Scully's secret 
Santa was.  The card was open a few inches so it could stand up on 
the mantle.  Surely she wouldn't leave a card just sitting out like 
this, parted just enough for him to be able to read what was inside 
if he was at the right angle, if she didn't want him to know who it 
was from, right?

He darted a glance toward the kitchen to see if Scully was watching 
him.  She wasn't.  As a matter of fact, he couldn't even see her 
from here.

Hmmm.  To peek or not to peek.

He gingerly stepped to the right to get at a better angle.  Yep, 
the writing inside was large enough that if he leaned a little 
closer he would be able to read it.

After a moment, he had himself convinced that with this new 
romantic development in their relationship, he had a right to know 
who was sending his woman presents.  So, he tilted his head toward 
the card, squinted his eyes, and read the inside message.

*Dana,
The offer stands.
555-3824
Merry Christmas,
Grant*

Well, hell.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*More rapid than eagles
our courses they came;
That it was only for myself she was cooking
Was a crying shame...

Now, turkey!  Now, dressing!
Now cranberry sauce, oh my!
On salad!  On hot rolls!
On homemade pumpkin pie!*


Dinner was perfect.  

She had set the table with the china she had purchased a few years 
ago with her mother's help when it became clear to them that she 
may never receive a set of china as a wedding gift.  Lit tapers in 
the middle of the table gave off a warm glow.  She had kept the 
food simple and used her mother's tried and true recipes, so it was 
all ready at the same time and was delicious.

Mulder, the human garbage disposal, went through two full plates, 
moaning and rolling his eyes back into his head in theatrical 
ecstasy as he exclaimed this was the best food he'd ever eaten.  
With anyone else, she would have chalked his comments up as mere 
flattery.  However, with Mulder's upbringing and his pathetically 
non-nutritious bachelor lifestyle, she considered it was entirely 
possible he'd actually never had a meal like this before.

It made her want to pull his head to her breast and pet him like 
the child he sometimes emulated.

And if she wondered at the somber mood he had brought to the table 
initially, she kept her mouth shut and coaxed him into playfulness 
with a lot of flirting and touching and playing footsies under the 
table.

After dinner, he helped her clear the table and clean the kitchen, 
this time actually being of more assistance than his previous 
attempt.  He had gone into the living room to stoke the fire while 
she remained behind to start the dishwasher.

Now, as she entered the living room, she saw him standing in front 
of the fireplace, one hand lifted to something on her mantle.  As 
she neared, she realized he was tracing the tip of his index finger 
around the Father Christmas on the front of the card Grant had 
given her.

She came to a stop about a foot from him, but he didn't look at 
her.  Instead, he just continued finger-drawing on the card, a 
telltale tick in the muscle of his jaw.

She sighed in resignation when he turned his head to look her in 
the eye as he asked, "What offer stands?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*To the top of the world
my victory cries rang - 
She's mine!  She's mine!
She's mine, my heart sang!*


She didn't answer for a moment.  She worried her lower lip with her 
teeth as she had a mental debate over whether or not to take 
offense.

Finally, she opted for a little humor to lighten the mood.  "Okay, 
I confess.  I'm having a torrid love affair with Grant Harding."

She watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed down a lump in his 
throat.  He wasn't buying the whole humor thing.

"That's not funny, Scully," he said in a serious tone.

She breathed a sigh of frustration.  *Geez, how can he be so 
insecure regarding the way I feel about him?*

"Well, what do you want me to say, Mulder?" she countered, hands 
gesturing in a helpless manner.  "You're standing here insinuating 
that I am leading you on while harboring a secret interest in him.  
It's insulting."

He brought his hand from the mantle to skim down his face in a 
frustrated motion.

"Are you telling me that you're not interested in him at all?"

"Mulder, I'm not going to pretend that he isn't great-looking or 
fun to be around, because he is.  But I'm not interested in him 
romantically."  Then her expression softened as she added, "I 
couldn't be."

He looked hesitant and slightly confused as he bit the side of his 
lower lip and tilted his head down to her level.  "Why not?"

*Why not, you ask?  Oh, you silly, sweet man.*

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*As hearts that before
were unable to fly,
When they meet in true love
Can now mount to the sky...*


Her heart started racing as she realized what she was about to tell 
him.  *What if it scares him away?  He is a man after all, and we 
just started 'dating' five days ago.  Am I insane to even be 
considering saying this?*

Doubts were creeping in left and right, but then she refocused on 
his eyes.  His beautiful, comforting eyes.  He had always told her 
so much with just one look.  And just now, she could see in his 
gaze that he was handing her his soul on a platter.  He was looking 
at her with so much love and longing that it brought tears to her 
eyes.

So she gathered her courage and in a husky voice said, "I can't be 
interested in him, Mulder, because I'm..."  Her heart was about to 
pound out of her chest and she suddenly couldn't breathe.

He closed the distance between them and cradled her face tenderly 
in his palms.

"You're what, Scully?" he whispered.  "Please.  Say it."

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt in an attempt to steady herself 
in a world gone suddenly topsy-turvy.  There were tears in her eyes 
and her throat when she was finally able to continue.  "I can't 
because... I'm in love with you."

Now there were tears in his eyes and an angelic smile spread slowly 
across his face.  "Really?" he whispered hoarsely.

She arched an eyebrow and the evidence of his joy brought an 
indulgent smile on her lips.  "Yeah.  Really."

They both just stood there grinning at each other, each blinking 
back tears.  Finally, his full-fledged grin dimmed to more sedate 
one.  Her face took on a more serious expression in response.

He traced his thumbs lovingly over her cheekbones.  "I suppose 
you'd like to know that I'm in love with you too," he teased 
gently.

She chuffed.  "Yeah.  That would be nice."

He slowly lowered his head to hers to softly brush his lips back 
and forth over hers.  "I am, Scully," he breathed against her lips.  
"I'm in love with you too."

She felt her heart swell to overflowing with emotion at his 
admission.  And then he was kissing her senseless, making love to 
her with his mouth so slowly and so sensually that it left her body 
slack and her mind feeling drugged.  She forgot where they were, 
what day it was, even what her own name was.  She could only 
concentrate on the fluid motions taking place in the warm space 
created by their joined mouths.

She curled her arms around his neck in an attempt to get even 
closer to him.  His hands started roaming her body, spreading 
tingling heat everywhere they went.

The kiss became more urgent.  Mulder's tongue began to tangle with 
hers more aggressively as she felt the fierce tension in his body 
escalate, the blunt ridge of his arousal pressing into her belly.  
She had never felt more like a woman than she did at this moment.

His hands stole up under her sweater to caress across the skin of 
her back, causing her to arch against him as goose bumps broke out 
everywhere.

He dragged his mouth away from hers to trail it open along her chin 
and began to kiss and suck his way down her neck as she tilted her 
head back to give him better access.  One large hand smoothed its 
way lower to cup and squeeze her rear.  He bent her back over his 
arm slightly to reach the hollow of her throat, just above her 
collarbones.  First his nose nuzzled, and then his tongue dipped 
into it, giving testament to his fascination with this spot.

He nipped a titillating path across her collarbone, then gently 
nibbled his way up the side of her neck.  Her breasts warmed and 
swelled, and her nipples tightened almost painfully in response to 
the sweet torture he was working on her exposed neck.

She was feeling the urgency too.  She could feel her body actually 
softening, opening, preparing for the fierce coupling that Mulder 
was so expertly promising to provide.

And when that moment came, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that 
she would give herself to him willingly.  Eagerly.

One of his hands was now under her sweater, molding the side of her 
ribcage, thumb making slow, wide sweeps from her waist to the edge 
of her bra.  His other arm was effectively holding her upright and 
against him, as she had long ago lost all sense of balance.  The 
hand attached to that arm was still stroking and squeezing her 
buttocks.  

She splayed the fingers of one hand through his hair, cradling his 
head as he began to run the tip of his tongue around her ear.  She 
could feel his hot breath softly surrounding her ear, causing a 
riot of sensations throughout her womb.

She lowered her other arm to snake it around behind her, placing 
her hand on top of the one he had on her rear to move with him as 
he rubbed her.

God, she was on fire!  Much more of this and she was going to go up 
in flames.

Then she felt his fingers around her ribs tighten and his hand on 
her rear gave a slightly more gripping squeeze and held.  She felt 
his body give a little shudder.

"Scully," he breathed against her ear.  It was both a prayer and a 
plea.

And she was ready.  God was she ready.

She tucked her head into the curve of his neck and whispered, 
"Mulder, it's time to christen my living room."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*So onto the rug
the lovers, we flew;
With hearts full of hope,
And eager bodies, too...*


*Holy shit.*  He could hardly believe what was about to happen.  He 
stood there just holding her as he willed his body to regain some 
control.  If he didn't get a grip, this was all going to be over 
within a matter of seconds.

When at last he felt he could breathe semi-normally again and the 
roaring in his body had calmed to a mere tremble, he lifted his 
head to look at her.

God, she was beautiful.  So breathtakingly beautiful.  He was the 
luckiest bastard on earth.

He searched her eyes for signs that she might have changed her 
mind, but all he found there were deep, blue, bottomless pools of 
love and desire.  For him.

Incredible.

He raised a trembling finger to trace her jawbone from her ear to 
her chin.

"I can't believe I'm going to bring this up, since I'm afraid it 
might bring a halt to the festivities," he spoke softly, "but I 
didn't bring anything with me."

He could tell she understood what he was asking her by the tender 
smile on her face.  "When was the last time you were with anyone, 
Mulder?"

He smiled ruefully.  "Years.  Several long, excruciating years."  
His smile widened when she chuckled in sympathy.

Then he cocked his head to the side as he studied her.  He was 
almost afraid to ask, but he found he had a deep desire to know.  
"What about you, Scully?"

"Yesterday," she deadpanned.

*What?!*

"Yesterday?" he queried hoarsely.

He was both delighted and relieved when she shot him The Brow and 
laughed.  "I had you."

"No, you didn't," he grinned.

"Oh, yeah.  I had you big time," she returned smugly.

He tilted his head toward her ear as his voice lowered an octave.  
"And I'm going to have you big time if we can find a solution to 
our little problem."

When he brought his head back he noticed the softness of desire had 
once again blanketed her face, only her eyes giving away how amused 
she was by their wordplay.

"We've both been given blood tests repeatedly over the years, 
Mulder.  You're clean.  I'm clean."  Then her expression sobered 
when she added, "And we both know I can't get pregnant.  So I don't 
see a problem."

He had reacted to the seriousness of her statement too.  He studied 
her closely to determine whether or not the mood was salvageable 
and decided he didn't care whether it was or not.  This issue 
needed to be addressed now and gotten out of the way.

Before he had a chance to speak, she said, "I'm sorry, Mulder.  
That we won't ever have children."

He smoothed a hand down her hair in a soothing gesture.  "That 
doesn't matter to me.  And if it matters to you, we can still have 
children.  We'll just have to get a little creative."

Then he smiled playfully as he added, "You've seen my audit 
reports, Scully.  I'm nothing if not creative."

He was inordinately pleased when she chuckled in agreement.

After a few moments of shared mirth they were left looking deeply 
into each other's eyes, sharing silent communication in the manner 
they had perfected years ago.  Only this time there was no specific 
meaning behind it.  Just mutual feelings of love, affection... and 
unsatisfied desire.

He took one of her hands in his and brought it up to place a hot, 
open-mouthed kiss in the center of her palm, his eyes never leaving 
hers.  He indulged a sudden urge to move his mouth to her wrist and 
plant a soft kiss there, inhaling her scent at the same time before 
returning her hand to her side.

"So, are we still going to do this tonight?" he asked gently, 
knowing she understood what he meant by 'this'.

She lowered her head to rest against his collarbone.  He raised a 
hand to cradle her head against him, as he had done countless times 
before.

"I want to," he heard from the vicinity of his chest.  "I *really* 
want to.  But I have to admit that I'm nervous."

He grinned at her honesty.  Hell, he was nervous too.  But he 
instinctively knew that no matter what they did together, no matter 
how they did it, it was going to be fine.  More than fine.  He 
suspected it was going to be the single most enjoyable event of his 
lifetime, not because he was anticipating the physical aspects of 
it, but because it would be with *her*.  Making love to her was 
going to become his religion.

So she was nervous, huh?  He placed a finger under her chin to 
raise her head to look at him.  

A corner of his mouth quirked up as he informed her, "Then I'll 
just have to see what I can do to remedy that."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*So down on my knees
to the rug I drew,
My heart full of love,
my body eager, too...*


Mulder dropped to his knees on the rug in front of her.  She arched 
an eyebrow to let him know she was intrigued.

He wrapped his hands around her hips and looked up at her.  "I 
always knew you'd bring me to my knees someday, Scully."

She expelled a breath of surprise as she smiled.

With his eyes locked on hers, he took the hem of her sweater in his 
fingers and delicately pushed it up to just underneath her breasts, 
exposing her midriff.  When she felt the first brush of his lips 
against her skin she squirmed a little.  She had been ridiculously 
ticklish since the day she was born.  She had to forcefully stop 
herself from breaking out into a fit of the giggles.

"Ticklish, Scully?" he asked in a low voice against her stomach.

She didn't answer.  Instead she spread the fingers of both hands 
through his hair as an encouragement for him to continue.

He pressed his open mouth a little more firmly against her skin 
this time, and it felt like Heaven.  He continued slowly kissing 
every inch of exposed skin he could reach, his hot breath fanning 
over her, the wet rasp of his tongue causing her stomach muscles to 
quiver.

She moaned and allowed her head to loll back as she felt desire 
begin to once again simmer in her veins.

When his lips strayed to a place on her side, just above the 
waistband of her trousers, to a territory he had yet to explore, 
her muscles contracted sharply and she actually did release a 
giggle.

Her hands had tightened in his hair and she tried to tug him away 
from the supersensitive spot, but he wasn't going anywhere.  He 
gave her a moment to relax, and then he sank his teeth gently into 
her side.

Her head popped up and this time she did push his head away as she 
laughed.

"I can see I'm going to have a problem with you behaving yourself," 
she teased.

He grinned up at her shamelessly.  "You're secrets are no longer 
safe from me, Scully.  I've finally found a way to get you to do 
anything I ask."

She smiled down at him with affection as she ruffled his hair.  
"Mulder, you already know I would do anything for you."

He stared into her eyes for a moment.  Her stomach gave a little 
lurch when he finally ordered in a low voice, "Then take off your 
sweater."

She paused for a few seconds to gather her courage.  Then she took 
the hem of her sweater in her fingers and pulled it up and off.  He 
took it from her hands and she assumed he was going to place it 
neatly somewhere like the coffee table.  

She should have known better.  He simply tossed it over his 
shoulder to land behind him, hanging off the edge of a chair.

Her breasts were at roughly his eye level, and his heated gaze was 
now fixated on her bra.  It was a new one she had just gotten at 
Victoria's Secret a couple of weeks ago.  It wasn't fancy or lacy, 
it was just deep blue and super smooth, and she had liked it so 
much in the display window at the mall that she had immediately 
purchased it and a matching pair of panties too.

The way he was staring at it as if he was in awe, she would have 
thought he'd never seen a bra before.  Well, if he liked this, wait 
until he saw the matching thong she had on underneath her pants.

He lifted his hand and began to lightly trace the tip of his 
forefinger along the edge of her bra, starting at her collarbone, 
skimming down over the curve of one miracle-bra-enhanced breast 
until he reached the vee at the bottom, then trailing it up over 
her other breast until he reached her other collarbone.  By the 
time he was done, her breasts had swelled so much that they were 
threatening to spill out of their cups.

The fact that she didn't seem to be able to control her own 
breathing anymore didn't help much.

He looked up at her, his eyes dilated and hooded with desire.  She 
tenderly smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

God, he was gorgeous.  Both inside and out.  Especially inside.  
*Especially* out.

His attention was then drawn to her feet.  He placed a hand behind 
one of her calves, drawing it forward.  She placed her hands on his 
shoulders for balance as he removed her loafer.  She had never 
known the insides of her calves were so sensitive until she felt 
his hand snake inside the leg of her pants intimately to find the 
top of her knee-high trouser sock and slowly peel it down and off.  
He repeated the same procedure with her other foot.

He then focused on the fastening of her trousers.  He slid the 
button through the hole, then tenderly lowered the zipper.  Next, 
he slid them over her hips and down her legs to pool at her feet.  
She again balanced herself against his shoulders as she stepped out 
of her pants and watched as they went sailing over his shoulder to 
land on the back of the same chair the sweater was dangling from.

During the whole process of undressing her he had treated her as 
carefully as he would have if he had been opening a precious gift.  
She felt treasured.  She felt wanted.

And now, as he sat back on his heels to study her in the firelight, 
she felt sexy.

He began to smooth his hands up the outsides of her legs in one 
long caress, starting at her ankles.  His palms were warm and 
stimulating against her skin.  When he reached the place where her 
thighs met her buttocks, he lifted his face to watch her as he 
curved his hands slightly more toward her backside, fingers spread 
wide.  His hands continued on their journey until they reached the 
scant quarter-inch of material at the top of her hips that was the 
sum total of her covering back there.

She watched as his eyes glazed over with the realization of what 
she was, or more accurately wasn't, wearing.  He lowered his head 
until his forehead rested against her stomach and stated in a low 
rumble, "I must have been very, very good this year."

She grinned from ear to ear.  *Mmmm, hmmm.  You have.*

*Merry Christmas, Mulder.*

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*And then in a twinkling,
neither of us was shy;
There was groping and pawing - 
I treasured each moan and sigh...*


A thong.

She was wearing a thong.

*It's a good thing she's a doctor,* he thought, *because I think my 
heart just stopped beating.*

Not only was it a thong, but it was one that matched the bra he'd 
been picturing on her days ago.  If he survived the night, which 
was definitely in question at the moment, he was going to open an 
X-File on this telepathic link they seemed to share.

The lingerie showcased her creamy skin and molded to her curves as 
if it had been designed exclusively for her.

And her body.

She was perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  Of course, he'd never 
expected perfection.  He felt certain he'd feel the same way about 
her and want her just as much if she'd had saggy boobs, stretch 
marks, and cottage cheese thighs.

The fact that she didn't; that her body was well-toned and 
femininely curved in all the right places and her skin was 
impossibly smooth was just icing on the cake.  Sweet, creamy, 
delicious icing.  Yummm.

Speaking of which, his heart had resumed beating and it was time to 
move on to further undiscovered territory.

He lifted his head to meet her soft gaze, took her hand in his, and 
said, "Come here, Scully."

She lowered herself to her knees in front of him.

He cradled her neck in his hands, his thumbs tilting her chin up to 
him, and he brought his mouth to hers for a long, slow kiss.  He 
had observed that she usually let him take the lead when they were 
kissing, and this time was no different.  He kept the pace 
agonizingly slow, letting their anticipation heighten.

When at last he broke the kiss, he pulled back slightly to look at 
her bra, ran a finger under the strap at her shoulder, and said, 
"This is absolutely beautiful on you.  But I'm ready to see what's 
underneath."  Then he gently requested, "Will you take it off for 
me, Scully?  I want to watch you."

"That hardly seems fair, Mulder," she replied with a husky tone.  
"You're still fully dressed."

He didn't even pause, he just unbuttoned the top two buttons of his 
Henley, whipped it and his undershirt off together in one motion, 
and sent them flying into the great beyond behind him.

When that was accomplished, he sat back on his heels, an expectant 
expression on his face.

She must have forgotten the rules of the game because she leaned 
toward him slightly and ran the fingers of both hands through the 
hair on his chest, a soft expression of wonder on her face.

What she was doing felt heavenly, made him want to rub up against 
her hands for petting like a kitten, but just now he had another 
agenda.

"The bra, Scully," he reminded her.

Her eyes met his and she removed her hands from his chest as she 
straightened.  She brought both hands behind her and he heard the 
muted click of a new bra being unsnapped.  Then she slowly drew the 
straps down her arms one at a time before stretching her arm out 
straight to the side, dropping the dangling bra from her fingers.

Needless to say, watching the process was... well, it was an 
exercise in seduction.  Her graceful, fluid movements coupled with 
the sultry look in her eyes had cast a spell over him, so much so 
that he was pretty sure he would crawl through broken glass right 
now to get to her if he had to.

He dropped his gaze to her breasts.  He had been right.  Perfect 
handfuls.  They were perkier than he expected.  Most of the women 
he'd been with in the past had had much larger breasts than 
Scully's and theirs had always ridden lower on their chests.  Hers 
were so pale and looked undeniably feminine.  And her nipples... 
they were exquisite.  They were small, the same soft rose color as 
her bare lips, and drawn into tight little nubs.

He gently cupped the underside of a breast in each hand, marveling 
at the contrast of light and dark his hands made against her 
luminous skin.  Then he slowly rubbed a thumb across each nipple.

His eyes darted to hers when he heard her sharp intake of breath.  
Her eyelids were very heavy now, her lips were parted, and as he 
watched, her tongue slipped out to moisten them and he felt his 
rock-hard cock twitch in appreciation.

He kept his gaze on hers as he slowly rolled a nipple between the 
thumb and forefinger of each hand.

"Oh, God," she moaned hoarsely, as her body tipped slightly to one 
side.

He took mercy on her and removed his hands from her breasts to wrap 
an arm around her waist and help support her.  He leaned toward her 
and braced his other arm against the floor behind her.

"Lay back," he coaxed, and he followed her down as she obeyed.

His lower body rested on the floor between her slightly parted legs 
and his upper body was suspended above her supported by an elbow.  
His eyes trailed hungrily down her body.  Her skin seemed to glow 
in the firelight, and the thought dimly registered that she 
probably had some scars somewhere, but all he could see was inches 
and inches of flawless, petal-soft, alabaster flesh punctuated by 
two tawny, delectable nipples.

He reverently trailed the fingers of the hand that wasn't 
supporting him gently down her torso, starting at the dip in her 
throat, tracing a meandering line between her breasts, continuing 
further down the center of her midriff, all the way to the top of 
her panties.  He was enchanted by the way her back arched and her 
stomach muscles quivered under his fingers from the onslaught.

He could come just looking at her.

His voice was low and grating when he said, "I'll never know how I 
kept my hands off you all those years."

XXXXX

*Yeah, I've had that thought a few times myself.*

She didn't realize she had spoken her thought aloud until she heard 
him chuckle and respond, "Been pining away for me, Scully?"

She grinned at him in embarrassment at her admission.

He wrapped his hand around her hip to still her squirming, and 
promised in a low, sexy timbre, "Trust me, Scully.  I'm going to do 
everything I can to make up for lost time.  Even if it takes a 
lifetime."

Before she had time to recover from the impact of that statement, 
he lowered his mouth to plant a scalding, open kiss on the upper 
swell of one of her breasts.

*Mmmm.  Just a little... lower...,* she thought as she arched her 
back underneath him.

He proceeded to drive her further into insanity by kissing and 
gently biting his way in a lazy circle about an inch and a half 
away from her nipple, to the underside of her breast, then to the 
ultra-sensitive curve at the outside of her breast.

When she finally felt his teeth close over her nipple she let out a 
shaky sigh and lifted her hand to run her fingers through his hair, 
cradling his head against her.  His grip on her hip tightened as 
she began to rock rhythmically against him.

She felt a surge of hot liquid well out of her center as he took 
her into the warm cavern of his mouth and tugged and laved at an 
agonizingly slow pace.  She trapped her lower lip between her teeth 
to keep the litany of explicit pleas churning in her throat from 
bubbling out.

He was watching her as he suckled, desire and something darker, 
like stark hunger, in his eyes.  She had fantasized about having 
his mouth on her many times, but nothing had prepared her for the 
fierce pleasure of watching and feeling him ravish her.

He turned his attention to her other breast and subjected it to the 
same brand of seduction.  She was now writhing under him, one hand 
pressing his head to her, the other restlessly roaming over the 
warm, taut skin of his arms, shoulder and back.  He was still 
pinning her lower body down so she couldn't rub against him to ease 
some of the ache.  

God, she needed to rub against him.

When she saw her wet nipple pop out of his mouth as he raised his 
head, a hot geyser of need rushed through her.  She arched her body 
off the rug to wrap her arms around his neck and bring her mouth to 
his, her tongue aggressively plunging inside his mouth, showing him 
without words the kind of activity she was aching for.

He allowed her to plunder his mouth to her heart's content as he 
moved the hand previously on her hip to her back to support her.  
Now that her hips had been given freedom, she raised her knees to 
give herself leverage to grind against him, swallowing the groan he 
released into her mouth.  She poured into him years of loving and 
longing and suppressed desire, and reveled in the deep emotion he 
lavished her with in return.

She finally broke the kiss to whisper, "God, Mulder.  I'm so in 
love with you it hurts."

He puffed a sharp breath of fire against her lips, then buried his 
head in her neck.  "Me too, Scully," he said tenderly.  "So much."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*As I lowered my head,
she was writhing around;
My tongue worked its magic
and she came with a bound...*


He carefully lowered her back to the rug, then kissed a fiery path 
down her body, from her neck to the satiny blue swatch of cloth 
concealing her most private flesh.  The smell of her arousal 
swamped his senses as he nuzzled her through her underwear.

Her scent was musky and womanly and brought out all manner of 
primal instincts in him.  He gave in to the urge and sank his teeth 
into her deeply, expelling a fevered, moist breath against her 
center.

When her hands flew to his head and she huskily murmured, "Oh, 
God," he had to violently tamp down the desire to rip off her 
underwear and drive himself into her so deeply she'd feel him in 
the back of her throat.

He hooked his index fingers into the scraps of fabric on the sides 
of her hips and continued sliding down her body, dragging the thong 
off as he went.  The material was slung carelessly into the void as 
he sat back on his heels by her feet to study the precious gift 
he'd so carefully unwrapped.

She scissored her legs together nervously under his scrutiny.

*No secrets, Scully,* he silently admonished her.

He brought one of her dainty feet to his mouth to plant a nibble at 
her instep and grinned when he heard her giggle.  He returned her 
foot to the rug, placing it much farther away from him than it had 
originally been.  He then repeated the procedure with her other 
foot, the end result being that her legs were now parted for him 
and he could more clearly see the secrets she had been shyly trying 
to hide.

He crawled between her legs, then lowered his body so that his face 
was directly over her auburn triangle, his hands coming up to rest 
flat on the patch of skin just above it.  Her scent was stronger 
now and he inhaled deeply, his mouth watering at the promise of the 
rich, smoky flavor.

She kept the hair covering her mound well-manicured, trimmed short 
into a neat wedge.  He could clearly see her glistening lips and 
the tight little pearl in the center, swollen and red in her 
advanced state of arousal.  It had been so long since he had been 
this close to a woman's sex that he stared at it for a few moments, 
fascinated.

Eventually, he looked up her body to find that she had propped 
herself up on her elbows and was watching him study her.  She 
looked impossibly sexy with her hair wild around her face, her lips 
bare and pouty, her drooping eyes glowing, and a healthy flush on 
her cheeks.

His eyes remained on hers as he moved a thumb down to slip into the 
moisture of her cleft, sliding down a little further until he found 
the swollen bud and circled it slowly several times.  Her eyes 
closed dreamily and her head fell back to hang limply against her 
shoulders.  The movement thrust her chest up and he continued to 
glide his thumb through her softness as he admired the silhouette 
of her breasts pointing to the ceiling.

She was the single most sensual creature he had ever seen.  And she 
was his.

Amazing.

He dragged his eyes from her breasts to watch at close range as his 
thumb swirled around and through her slippery folds.  She raised 
her knees slightly to give him better access and he appreciated the 
gesture.

Finally, he lowered his head and his tongue joined the action, 
dipping into her moisture, then dancing around his still moving 
thumb to cover twice the territory.  Every time his tongue brushed 
against his thumb he felt a jolt of desire lance through his body.  
He'd had no idea his thumb was so sensitive to the rasp of a 
tongue.  He'd be sure to let Scully suck on it some time, knowing 
instinctively that the pleasure would be magnified a hundredfold if 
it was her tongue rubbing up against him.

Her hips were rolling against him now as he schooled his mouth to 
focus on her clitoris, bringing teeth and lips gently into play, 
occasionally blowing a hot, piercing stream of air directly on the 
hard little nub.  He glided his thumb lower to slowly circle the 
fevered flesh around her opening.

"Mulder, please..." he heard her whisper in agony.

He lifted his head to watch her shudder as he removed his thumb and 
ever-so-slowly inserted his index finger into her to the base, then 
just as slowly withdrew it, a scalding pool of liquid flowing from 
her to follow his finger's retreat.  He used his index and middle 
fingers to spread the new moisture all around her opening, then 
repeated his earlier action, this time gently inserting both 
fingers into her as far as they would go.

He left his fingers firmly inserted inside her and swallowed down a 
lump of lust at the sight of his hand buried deep in her.  Her hips 
began to rock, trying to pump herself on his hand.  He began to 
work in tandem with her, thrusting and retreating his fingers at an 
excruciatingly slow pace; she moaning in time with their movements.

After a few moments of that torture, he placed his free hand above 
her triangle, pressing down to still her movements as he continued 
to languidly make love to her with his hand.  He lowered his head 
to her, latching his lips onto her clit, flicking it quickly and 
repeatedly inside his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Within moments, he felt her body begin convulsing around his hand, 
the muscles deep inside her body sucking him in deeper and deeper 
with each contraction.  She was moaning hoarsely, talking fevered 
gibberish in her ecstasy, her body quivering under the onslaught of 
her orgasm.  He continued to press against her lower body, holding 
her down and feeling her uterus contract under his hand as he 
sucked hard on her and gave her as much length to come on as he 
possibly could.

As he sensed her coming down from her high, he slowed and gentled 
the movements of his mouth, tenderly sipping at her now.  When she 
dropped from her elbows to lie flat on her back on the rug, chest 
rising and falling rapidly in her efforts to catch her breath, he 
took that as a sign that this particular little party was over, so 
he carefully withdrew his fingers, gave her one last kiss in the 
center of her mound, and crawled up her body to cover her with his 
warmth as she recovered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*Her eyes, how they twinkled!
Her smile, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses,
Her lips like a cherry!*


He supported most of the weight of his torso on his elbows, 
allowing his painfully hard erection to rest fully against her 
softness.  His body was humming with the effort to control his 
desire as he tenderly kissed the hollow of her shoulder.

When her breathing had calmed, she stretched lazily underneath him, 
rubbing against him, causing his groin to throb with eagerness.

He raised his head to observe a very satisfied woman with a 
contented smile spread across her face.  Needless to say, he was 
very proud of himself at this moment.

"That's never happened to me before," she told him quietly, 
suddenly looking shy.

He allowed his eyes to wander over the delicate features of her 
face.  "Which part?" he finally asked.

A pretty blush appeared on her cheekbones.  "I've never... you 
know... *orgasmed* during oral sex," she informed him, gesturing 
with her hand and batting her eyelashes playfully.

Jesus, she made him feel like Hercules.

"Really?" he said, his voice full of pride coated in dark molasses.

"Mmmm, hmmm."

"Then we'll have to do that again sometime soon," he said with a 
waggle of his eyebrows.

She chuckled in response.  Then she chewed on the side of her lower 
lip for a moment as she studied him.

"Mulder, get off me," she ordered in a husky alto.

Huh?

"Scully, please tell me the festivities aren't over," he stated, a 
note of panic in his voice and a confused expression on his 
features.

She simply said, "It's my turn."

Ohhhkaay.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*Her pouty little mouth
was drawn up like a bow;
The feral smile on her face
her intentions did show..."


He moved his hips off her body to recline on the rug beside her, 
one elbow supporting him as he watched her warily.

She should have known it would throw him off balance if she tried 
to take control.

She placed a hand on his shoulder to coax him to lie on his back, 
which he did, looking at her suspiciously.

She sat on her heels by his hip and leaned over to sweetly kiss 
him.  His hand came up to cup her head and pull her mouth more 
firmly onto his as he tried to regain the upper hand.  She broke 
the kiss, reminding him this was her show now.

"Be gentle," he teased softly.

She rubbed a hand across his chest in a soothing gesture.  "You 
just lay back and think happy thoughts, Mulder," she ordered.  "I 
promise this won't hurt a bit."

Then she rose gracefully to retrieve a small throw pillow from her 
couch, returning to kneel beside him and place it gently under his 
head.

"Comfy?" she asked.

He leered as he replied, "I'd be more comfortable if you'd straddle 
my face, Scully."

She laughed, then pretended to mull the thought over in her head 
before answering, "Maybe next time."

She ignored his little boy pout as she braced a hand on either side 
of his ribcage and lifted her leg over him to straddle his hips.  
He groaned when she let her weight rest on him, right where he 
needed the pressure most.

He watched her intently as she placed both hands on his stomach 
just above his waistband, then smoothed them up his torso in a slow 
caress.  She swirled her fingers through the hair on his chest 
several times.  Then she braced herself on one hand placed next to 
his ribs and leaned down to run the flat of her tongue in lazy 
patterns all over his chest, pausing to delicately bite a nipple 
when it crossed her path.  His hands came up to cradle her head as 
she performed her ministrations.

After she had thoroughly explored his chest, she scooted down a bit 
to kiss a wet trail across his torso, instantly missing the 
pressure of his rigid length against her as she adjusted her body 
to rest on his thighs.

She laid down fully on him to free up her hands.  She became 
fascinated with the contrast between the fine hairs that formed a 
line down the middle of his stomach and the incredibly soft skin of 
his sides.  She kissed and nibbled on one of his sides above his 
hipbones while one of her hands roamed the other side restlessly, 
fingertips occasionally dipping into his navel or slipping under 
his waistband.

He squirmed a little as she sank her teeth into his side as he had 
done to her earlier.  So, he was ticklish too, eh?  She'd just 
store *that* little nugget of information in the file marked '101 
Ways to Make Mulder My Slave'.

Finally, she became tired of being restricted by the waistband of 
his pants, so she sat up on her heels between his thighs and 
efficiently unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.  

She became distracted by the impressive bulge currently straining 
against his zipper.  She placed a warm hand over it and gave a 
little squeeze, then looked up at his face when she heard a low 
rumble in his chest.

"Scully," he warned.

She shot him The Brow and quirked a corner of her mouth as she 
said, "Patience is a virtue, Mulder."

"Yeah, well I'm not feeling very virtuous just now, Scully."

Touche.

She carefully lowered the zipper, then gingerly pulled the elastic 
band of his boxers up and over the tip of his erection, taking care 
not to touch any skin yet.  She gripped the sides of boxers and 
pants, he obligingly lifted his hips for her, and she pulled them 
down and off.

She crawled on her hands and knees back up his body, stalking him 
like a tigress.  Which was exactly what she felt like as she 
settled her body between his thighs and studied him.  Grrrrr.

He was... well built, to put it mildly.  She had seen him enough 
over the years, completely nude a couple of times, snuggled in a 
swimsuit once or twice, even dangling in his boxers here and there, 
so she knew he wasn't going to disappoint.  But *really*.  It 
astounded her that *this* had been so near all these years, sitting 
across from her in the office, sitting three feet from her in the 
car, even pressing against her during the rare hug, and she'd never 
really even known what she'd been missing.

And she called herself an investigator?

She rested her upper arm on one of his hipbones, bending it to 
support her head in that hand.  Then she lightly trailed a 
fingertip down his length, from head to base, tracing the baby-soft 
skin, admiring the smooth perfection of this most masculine part of 
his body.

She tilted her head up to check on him when she heard his hiss.  He 
was watching her with a smoldering gaze, completely focused on her 
attentions.

She returned her focus to his sex, this time cupping her entire 
hand around the top, then smoothing it gently down the column, 
ending with a light squeeze to his testicles.  His hips tilted to 
press his member more fully into her hand in response.

Then she noticed a pearly drop of fluid that had formed at the tip 
of his head.

He watched in fascination as she tenderly collected the drop onto 
the tip of her index finger, then brought that finger to her mouth 
to spread the moisture around her lips like it was lip-gloss.

"*Jesus Christ*," he hissed as he watched her place that fingertip 
between her lips, then slowly pull it back out, sucking the 
remainder of his fluid into her mouth for a taste.

"Mmmmm," she hummed.  So *that's* what Mulder tastes like.

Delicious. 

"Scully, you're scaring me," he said shakily.

She merely shot him a wicked grin.

*Be afraid, Mulder.  Be very, very afraid.*

XXXXXX

*This is torture.*

He was suddenly certain that Scully was about to give him a blow 
job, and he was terribly afraid that the minute she wrapped that 
sweet, pouty little mouth around him he was going to shoot off like 
a rocket.

Weren't men his age supposed to have a little more control than 
this?  Probably, but most men his age didn't spend the majority of 
their thirties celibate as he had.  He'd never forgive himself if 
he couldn't control himself and did something to offend her.

He watched in astonishment as she rubbed her lips together, 
smearing his own precome all over her lips.  His cock twitched in 
gratitude at the display.

He placed an arm over his eyes, hoping that if he wasn't watching, 
he wouldn't have such a severe reaction.  He never thought there'd 
come a day when he'd actually wish Scully *wouldn't* put her mouth 
on him.

It never occurred to him to simply ask her to stop before he made a 
fool of himself.  His cock was pretty much doing most of his 
decision-making, and it had long ago decided that its best friend 
in the world was Scully's mouth.

*Aaaaawww, Goddddd.*

Scully's mouth was sucking a wicked little serpentine pattern all 
the way up his length, starting at the base, and now on its way to 
his head.

*Where the hell did she learn **that**?*

*Never mind.  I don't want to know.*

He could feel a familiar tingling gathering in his testicles.  Not 
a good sign.

His hips were moving of their own accord underneath her.  When she 
reached the tip, he couldn't help it.  He had to watch.

He raised his arm to rest on his forehead and sneaked a peek, only 
to find her watching him as she rounded the tip, eyes sparkling 
with humor.

He brought his hand down to involuntarily fist in her hair, just 
holding her there, mouth poised against his head.  He wasn't sure 
if the gesture was an effort to make her stop, or one to make sure 
she didn't.

She released her suction against his tip, raising her head a couple 
of inches in spite of his grip in her hair, and very, very softly 
warned, "Don't make me get out my handcuffs, Sweetheart."

*==Gulp==  Handcuffs?*

His grip in her hair loosened and he used that hand to smooth her 
hair away from her face before returning it to rest on his stomach.

*Okay, Scully.  I'll be a good boy.*

She very gently gripped his base in her hand and raised him a 
couple of inches as she rose up more fully onto her knees for a 
better angle.  Then he held his breath as she lowered her mouth 
back down to him, taking first his head inside, then, very slowly, 
several inches more.

His breath expelled on a harsh groan as his eyes rolled back into 
his head in ecstasy.  

Her mouth.  Oh, God.  It was so hot, and wrapped so tightly around 
him.  And he could feel her tongue swirling against his sensitive 
underside.

He brought the arm resting on his forehead back down over his eyes, 
and the hand on his belly roamed restlessly as she dragged her 
mouth back up and almost all the way off him with an excruciatingly 
controlled pace.  

Sweat broke out on his forehead and he bit down on his lip hard as 
she plunged in slow motion back down his length.  This time when 
she slid her mouth back up to his crown, she dragged the hand 
previously gripping his base up behind her mouth, spreading her 
saliva into her palm.

*Oh, unfair.  Really unfair, Scully.*

She began a series of up and down motions, her mouth gripping the 
top half of him, her slick palm wrapped around the bottom half, 
both rhythmically stroking him into oblivion.

It was hell.  It made him want to throttle her.  It was without a 
doubt the best damn blowjob he'd ever been given, bar none.

He held on by the skin of his teeth, riding crest after crest of 
raw, bittersweet passion, on the very edge of orgasm the entire 
time.

His downfall came when he felt her fingernails lightly scrape 
against his testicles.  Suddenly, all of his internal gates swung 
open and a flood was eminent.

"Scully.  Oh, God, Scully..." he nearly shouted in his panic.  His 
upper body shot up and his hands flew to her head to withdraw 
himself from her mouth.  He had a painful grimace on his face as he 
laid back down on his back, one hand gripped firmly around the base 
of his penis in an attempt to forestall disaster.

She came up to lie by his side resting her head in her hand as she 
looked at him.  One of her legs crossed over one of his, her foot 
rubbing up and down his calf.  Her free hand caressed his chest in 
a comforting manner.

When at last he felt the crisis was over, he released his punishing 
grip on his member and opened his eyes to look into hers.

He splayed a hand through her hair as he said breathlessly, "Give 
me a minute.  That was close."

Her hand on his chest stilled and she rested her chin on it.  He 
had to smile affectionately at her.  She looked so adorable lying 
there halfway on top of him, watching him as she waited patiently 
for him to get a grip so he could pay some attention to her.

He dropped his hand from her hair to run his thumb over her lips.  
"I always knew you were dangerous, Scully.  I just never realized 
you were quite that lethal."

Her eyes glittered with amusement.

"I think I'm gonna put you on the top of our Ten Most Wanted list," 
he teased.

She quirked her brow at him and reminded him, "I wouldn't be of 
much use to you from prison, Mulder."

"Good point.  Scratch that idea."

They were both silent for a moment as they gazed into each other's 
eyes, both realizing playtime was over.  The moment they had each 
dreamed about for years was finally at hand.

He ran a palm down her side to rest on her hip, squeezing it gently 
as he said in a sandpaper voice, "C'mere, Scully."

This time both eyebrows shot up and it was all he could do not to 
laugh at her surprise.  "I get to be on top?"

"It would be a crime to get rug burns all over your adorable 
backside," he explained, as if his reasoning should be obvious.

"Uh, huh," she replied as she swung a leg over him.  Then, as she 
once again straddled his lap, supporting her upper body on her 
straightened arms, aligning her slick center for the first time 
against his hungry hardness, she said unsteadily, "I'll just have 
to live with rug burns on my knees instead."

He smoothed his hands down her back to her rear, then down the 
backs of her thighs, wrapping a hand around each to pull them up 
and out to open her more fully to him.

His voice was tight when he answered, "Sometimes we have to make 
sacrifices, Scully.  I swear I'll make it worth the inconvenience."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*The cord of my neck
she held tight in her teeth;
And her scent, it encircled
my head like a wreath...*


She draped herself over him and he raised his head to hers to 
devour her mouth.  Their passion had re-ignited the moment her 
flesh had come into contact with his.

She followed his head back down to the rug, losing herself to his 
drugging kiss, rubbing herself along his length, spreading her 
juices over them both.  She was embarrassingly, sloppily wet.  
Having Mulder in her mouth, feeling his barely controlled desire 
underneath her hands and her lips, had proved to be an incredibly 
huge turn on for her, just as she had always known it would.

At last, she couldn't stand the waiting anymore so she brought 
herself to his tip, reaching a hand down to lift him to her 
opening.  His hands came up to grip her head and hold her mouth 
against his as they broke the kiss.

Her body was shaking as she slowly pushed herself back, receiving 
the tip of him into her welcoming body.  He was holding his breath, 
and she was letting hers out in sharp, uneven pants against his 
lips.

He was letting her set the pace, for which she was grateful, 
because her body was currently on sensory overload and he was only 
inside her maybe an inch and a half.  She lowered herself onto him 
a little more, feeling her hot moisture gush out to coat him and 
ease his passage.

Inch by blessed inch she took him into her body, glorying in the 
sensation of being filled to overflowing after being parched for 
so, so long.  She felt long-unused thigh muscles quiver as she 
finally took in every last inch of him, swallowing his ragged moan 
as they both felt him press gently against her cervix.

Mulder began to suck on her upper lip, an apparently sensitive spot 
for her since she felt her uterus twinge in appreciation.

She leisurely raised herself until he was almost completely out of 
her, stomach muscles contracting at the feeling of him dragging 
against her inner walls.  Then she lowered herself back down onto 
him, grinding a little against his pelvic bone at the end of the 
descent.

She started a slow but steady rhythm of raising and lowering onto 
him and they started to kiss again, their tongues mimicking the 
action below.  His hands released their grip on her head, and he 
lightly trailed his fingertips along her shoulder blades, causing 
her to shiver and goose bumps to break out all over her body.

Then he smoothed his hands around her sides to slide them between 
their bodies and cup a breast in each palm.  He massaged them for a 
moment, then began to roll a nipple between the thumb and 
forefingers of each hand, occasionally giving a little tantalizing 
tug.

And all the while, they made love to each other with their mouths.

Eventually, he released her breasts and smoothed his hands down her 
back to land on her buttocks, gripping one in each hand to assist 
her in her movements against him as the pace began to quicken.

Her increased efforts were costing her more oxygen, so she had to 
tear her mouth away from his to breathe, burying her head in the 
curve of his neck to kiss and occasionally sink her teeth into him 
when the urgency would reach a new peak.

He had raised his knees and planted his feet wider so that he could 
lift himself to meet her more firmly on her down strokes, grinding 
against her at the moment he was buried most deeply in her body.

This position, although it was its own little slice of Heaven, 
wasn't stimulating her clitoris enough for her to come, so she rose 
to sit upright on him.  The new angle caused his tip to rub harder 
against her g-spot and she immediately felt a corresponding 
response in her womb.  It was like being tickled from the inside.  
It made her want to both giggle and moan.

He gripped her hips with his hands to raise and lower her as he 
pumped into her from underneath.  Her breasts jiggled with each 
impact, but she didn't care.  She figured Mulder probably didn't 
mind the additional visual stimulation.

Neither of them had said a word since she had first taken him into 
her body.  They were both too wrapped up in the mutual desire 
rampaging through their veins, and in the overwhelming enormity 
that after all these years, they were finally making love.

She was straining against him so hard, so close to release, yet 
unable to quite reach the top of the pinnacle.  She was just about 
to break down and touch herself when Mulder, bless his heart, took 
mercy on her and placed his thumb on her, moving it in hard little 
circles over and around her swollen clit.

Immediately she felt the wave of ecstasy rise up, threatening to 
swallow her whole.  "Oh, God," she moaned through her throat.

Mulder raised his other hand to pinch and tug on her nipple, 
leaving her to ride him unassisted.  The fever was rapidly building 
inside her.

Suddenly, the picture of taking him into her mouth flashed behind 
her eyelids, and that was the impetus she needed to push her over 
the edge.  She landed hard against him and stayed there as she felt 
the first wave wash over her.

XXXXX

Continued in Part 3


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

God, she was beautiful.

He had been watching her from the time she had sat up and began 
riding him for all she was worth, a veritable symphony of fluid 
movements and graceful sensuality, the soft glow of the fire 
dancing over her body.

He had been lost to her from the moment she had sheathed him in her 
tight little body.  He could hardly believe the ferocity of the 
emotions swelling his heart as he merged with her, body, mind, and 
soul.

And now she was coming.  For him.  On him.  Around him.

Her body was rigid with tension, her nipples tight red pebbles 
against the milky-white of her skin.  On her face was a look of 
ecstasy as her orgasm shuddered through her body.  She was moaning 
nonsense, occasionally scattering parts of his name in there when 
she was able to form actual syllables.

He continued to rub her hard little nub, instinctively knowing that 
this movement was prolonging her pleasure.  He felt her body 
squeezing him, trying to milk the seed from his own.  

And it was working too.  He purposely loosened the rigid control he 
had been maintaining over his erection during the rest of their 
lovemaking, allowing fluid to gather in his testicles, readying for 
its own violent release.

A couple more contractions of her walls around him and he would be 
a goner.  He pressed his thumb against her hard to wring every last 
drop of her orgasm out of her.  

She let out a sharp cry in response as her womb gripped him tightly 
once more, and he gave in to the storm.

"Ahhh, Scully!" he nearly shouted as the first floodgates opened.  
He surged up against her, bucking into her like a stallion, 
shooting scalding fluid into her as deeply as he could go.  And all 
the while, she clamped her thighs around him and rode out the storm 
with him, raining soft words of love down over him as she received 
his offering.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*A wink of her eye
and a kiss on my forehead
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread...*


She had covered his body with her own as their frantic hearts 
calmed and their bodies cooled.  When she felt him begin to slip 
out of her, she went ahead and raised herself off him, placing a 
peck on his chin in sympathy when he growled in protest, then laid 
on her side next to him.

He turned to face her, both with an arm stretched out above them to 
pillow their heads.  He curled a leg over hers, placed his hand 
into the dip of her waist and pulled her flush against him.

"I can't believe we did that," he said softly.

She grinned conspiratorially.  "I know."

"If we're in the digestive tract of some giant mushroom, and this 
is all just a hallucination... let's just stay there, Scully.  I 
don't want to realize this was all just a dream."

Sheesh, he was just a big, mushy marshmallow.  *Her* marshmallow.

She raised her head toward him and placed a tender kiss between his 
brows before assuring him, "It's not a dream, Mulder."

He had a boyish grin on his face, one that eventually faded into a 
more serious expression.  "You know I've loved you forever."

One eyebrow raised in curiosity.  "Since when?"

"I'm not sure.  I can't really recall a time when I didn't.  It 
just seems like forever."

Her heart melted into a little pool of mush.

"Me too."

A wide, goofy grin spread across his face.

Suddenly, she realized her energy had returned.  "Come on, Mulder.  
Let's go take a shower.  We smell like sex."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*I spoke not a word,
but went straight to my work,
Slipped my present into her stocking,
and destroyed the card from that jerk...*


Mulder rose to scoop her up into his arms and he carried her into 
the bathroom, despite her giggling protests, where they showered 
together and spent long moments caressing and kissing and laughing.  
She had asked him to spend the night with her, and of course, he 
had eagerly said yes.

Scully, being the ultra-organized woman that she was, naturally had 
a new spare toothbrush, still in the box.  It gave him a great deal 
of proprietary satisfaction to place it in her ceramic toothbrush 
holder next to hers after he had brushed his teeth.

Now, she was lying naked and squeaky clean in her bed, waiting for 
him to join her.  He had wrapped a towel around his waist and gone 
into the living room to tamp down the fire, blow out the few 
candles still burning, and turn off the tree.

He had one last thing to do before retiring for the night.

He went to his coat and retrieved the small, tastefully wrapped box 
from his pocket.  He turned it over in his fingers, still wondering 
if he had done the right thing by buying it for her.  It was a 
pretty substantial gift.  It carried a lot of meaning in such a 
tiny package.  But after tonight, after they had both admitted they 
were in love with each other, and had had mind-blowing sex to 
physically express that love, he was reassured that the gift he had 
picked for her was the right one.

He walked over to the mantle and slipped it into her stocking.

Then his eyes snagged on that card.  The one from Harding.  For 
some reason, the little plastic snowman didn't bother him.  It was 
cheap and cheesy.  But that card did.  It was just sitting there, 
taunting him.  

He couldn't just leave it here on the mantle after what had taken 
place tonight between Scully and himself.  It was just wrong.

His eyes dropped to the fireplace, a couple of logs still 
smoldering.  She would probably kill him.  But he had to have some 
rights here too.  She was his.  They were in love.  It was going to 
last the rest of their lifetimes.  She had no use for a card given 
to her by another man who wanted to date her.

He picked the card up and opened it.  *The offer stands, my ass.*  
He knew what he had to do.  He would face the consequences later.

So, he knelt down in front of the fireplace, pushed back the fire 
screen, and firmly wedged the card between two still-glowing logs.  
He got a grim satisfaction in watching the edges start to blacken 
and curl.

*Guess your offer's not looking so good right now, huh asshole.*

He returned to the bed with Scully, who was rapidly approaching 
sleep.  He removed the towel and crawled in, pillowing her head on 
his arm as she snuggled up to him.

She kissed his chest and wrapped her arm around his middle.  
"G'night, Mulder" she said drowsily.

"Goodnight, Scully," he replied as he kissed the top of her head in 
return.

It was only moments before they both were fast asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*And laying a finger
on the curve of her face,
And giving her a searing kiss,
I returned to Hegal Place...*


December 25th


"Merry Christmas, Scully."

She opened one eye to seek out the source of the low rumble that 
had awakened her.  She was abruptly wide-awake when she saw Mulder 
in her bed, his head lying next to hers facing her on her pillow.  
She blinked rapidly trying to focus and determine why he was in her 
bed.

Then, suddenly, she remembered last night.  They were in love.  
They had *made* love.  Wow.

A wave of shyness washed over her now as she stared at him.

"Now don't go getting all shy on me," he admonished tenderly.  
"It's just me."

Yeah.  It's just him.  The man she had long ago given her heart to.  
And last night she had given him her body and her soul too.

The shyness faded to be replaced by familiarity and love.  She 
scooted over to lay her head on his shoulder and snuggle up to his 
side.

She raised her head to kiss his jaw as she said, "Merry Christmas, 
Mulder."

His hand began to roam over her body, seeking a breast.  "It will 
be, if you'll let me tell you good morning properly," he teased 
playfully.

She squirmed against him.  "Mulder, I have to get up and go to my 
mother's."

His hand stilled.  "Don't tell me.  Roll call."

"Roll call," she confirmed.  Then it occurred to her he might be 
expecting to be invited now that they were officially a 'couple'.  
In all sincerity, she didn't really want to take him with her 
today.  First of all, her brother Bill was going to be there, and 
he and Mulder got along like cats and dogs.  Secondly, there would 
be all kinds of questions she wasn't ready to answer.  She wanted 
to keep their new involvement to herself for a while.  

But she didn't want to be rude, and she honestly didn't think he 
would want to go anyway, so she asked, "Would you like to come to 
my mother's house with me, Mulder?"

He studied her face seriously for a moment.  He tucked a strand of 
hair behind her ear as he said softly, "Would you mind if I take a 
rain check?"

She smiled in relief.  "Of course not.  Bill's going to be there, 
and I didn't get enough sleep last night to play referee today."

He waggled his eyebrows with pride.

She looked over at her bedside clock.  Already seven a.m.  "I 
really do need to get ready, Mulder.  I'm already late."

She sat up, tucking the sheet around her to hide her body from him, 
then realized she was going to have to mess up the entire bed if 
she was going to pull it off and take it with her.  He grinned 
wolfishly at her because he knew she would have to leave the sheet 
behind since she was far too organized to screw up the bed.

God, he had a one-track mind.

She reminded herself that he had already seen her in all her naked 
glory many times last night.  He'd even showered with her.  He'd 
seen every square inch of her.

So, she steeled her nerves and rose from the bed, a few abused 
muscles screaming in protest, feeling his eyes bore into her 
backside as she exited the room.

She took a quick shower, dressed, brushed her teeth, ran a brush 
through her hair, and threw on some light makeup.  Then she went 
into the kitchen to make coffee while Mulder had a turn in the 
bathroom.

While he was in there, she took the opportunity to remove his gift 
from a bowl in the cabinet where she had hidden it, dropping it 
into his stocking.  Then she lit the Christmas tree and returned to 
the kitchen to make oatmeal.

By the time he came out, the coffee and oatmeal were ready.

He entered the kitchen and she stopped in her tracks.  She was more 
awake now than she had been earlier, and memories from the previous 
night came flooding back to her.

They stood there gazing at each other, soft smiles on their faces 
as they shared a moment of mutual awareness.

Finally, she closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms 
around his waist, and hugged him.  He slid his hands around her 
back and held her as she soaked up his warmth and his familiar 
smell.  

When she lifted her head, he placed a finger under her chin to tip 
her face up to his more fully, then placed a tender kiss against 
her lips.  She parted her lips to welcome him inside and his tongue 
gently stole into her mouth to tangle with hers.

They stood there kissing for long moments, rekindling passions 
always bubbling just beneath the surface.

His hands roamed downward to cup her rear as he coaxed with a low 
voice between kisses, "You're already late, Scully.  How do you 
feel about squeezing in a quickie?"

She could already feel his body stirring against her.  Her own body 
was begging her to say yes.

"Mmmmm, I can't," she whispered.  "They're expecting me."

He snaked his hands up under her shirt to caress the soft skin of 
her back, trying his best to change her mind.

"So, call them," he suggested helpfully.

It was nearly eight o'clock.  She really did need to leave.

She broke the kiss ruefully, running her thumb over his lips in 
apology.  His hands stilled and he tried not to pout.

"Sorry, Mulder, but I really do need to go."  Then, as a 
consolation prize she offered, "Why don't you plan on coming over 
tonight?"

His eyes lit up.  "I'll do that," he promised as he released her.

He helped her take the coffee and oatmeal to the table.  She sat 
down and took a sip of her coffee.

"Are we going to open our presents now?" he asked hopefully.

"No, we have to wait until after breakfast.  It's a rule," she said 
over the rim of her coffee cup.

He nodded and sat down opposite her at the table and they ate their 
breakfast as she told him stories about previous Christmases at her 
mother's house.

When breakfast was done, they cleaned up the kitchen together, then 
moved into the living room to exchange their presents.  He sat down 
on the couch and she removed their stockings from their hangers and 
moved to the couch to sit beside him.

She handed him his stocking and looked at him expectantly.

"You want me to go first?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

God, she hoped he liked what she had gotten for him.  It was so 
hard to pick for him.  Plus, she had gotten it back before they had 
become involved, so it wasn't a very personal one, but she 
suspected he'd like it anyway.

He carefully reached inside the stocking and pulled out a small 
envelope.  He put it up to his forehead in an imitation of Johnny 
Carson.  "Basketball, baseball, and Scully."

Then he lowered the envelope to pretend to read, "What are my three 
favorite things in the world."

She arched a brow as she asked, "I come after basketball and 
baseball?"

He shot her an 'oops' look before pretending to read the envelope 
again.  "Sorry, I didn't finish reading it.  It says 'What are my 
three favorite things in the world, in order from the least 
favorite to the most.'"

He looked hopefully at her to see if she was buying it.  She chose 
to let him off the hook.  "That's more like it."

He grinned.  Then he lifted the flap of the envelope and drew out 
the two slips of printed cardstock that had been concealed inside.  
His smile faded as he read them.  Her stomach gave a lurch.  He 
doesn't like them.  Great.

His eyes rose to hers in astonishment.  "You got me tickets to the 
Super Bowl?"

"Yeah," she said hesitantly, the space between her eyebrows creased 
in concern.  What had she been thinking?  His favorite sports are 
basketball and baseball.  

But the NBA Championships and the World Series were so far away.  
And she had bought these tickets from someone at work who had 
discovered they couldn't go.  Otherwise she would never have been 
able to get her hands on these tickets.

A disbelieving smile crept over his face.  Her heart began to 
lighten.

"Oh, my God," he said in amazement.  "You got me tickets to the 
Super Bowl."

"Do you like them?" she asked hopefully.

"Like them?  Scully, it's the Super Bowl!" he explained as if she 
were an idiot.  "I love them."  Then he dragged his gaze from the 
tickets to look at her.  "I love you," he said in the same tone of 
wonder.

She grinned at him indulgently.  "And I love you, Mulder."

He cupped a hand around the back of her neck to pull her to him for 
a fast, excited kiss.

"Thank you, Scully.  You're going with me, right?"

"Are you sure you don't want one of the Gunmen to go?" she asked, 
hoping he'd say no.

"I can't ask just one of them to go.  The other two would kick my 
ass.  Besides, I want you to go.  We can make a weekend out of it."  
Then he added with a leer, "Get only *one* hotel room."

"Okay, okay, you've twisted my arm," she laughed.

He very carefully inserted the tickets back into their envelope, 
then set them beside him on the couch.

"Okay, Scully.  Your turn," he said.

Excitement raced through her as she dipped her hand inside the 
stocking.  Mulder always gave her such ridiculous gifts, but that 
didn't mean she didn't appreciate the thought.

She pulled out a small square package, suspiciously the size and 
weight of a jewelry box.  When she realized where her hopes had 
suddenly drifted, she mentally shook the thought away.  There was 
no way Mulder had bought her a piece of jewelry.

She determinedly lowered her expectations waaayy low as she pulled 
off the bow and began to remove the wrapping paper.  It could be a 
glow-in-the-dark bouncy ball.  Or maybe he'd gotten really 
extravagant and bought her a piece of an asteroid that had fallen 
to Earth.  Oh, joy.

When she removed the paper to reveal what was obviously a black 
velvet jewelry box her heart gave a powerful heave.  Her eyes 
darted to his and she noticed he was looking at her with 
hesitation, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and 
forefinger.

*This had better not be a ring, Mulder.  That would be jumping the 
gun a little.*

She inhaled a deep breath as she gathered her courage, then 
cautiously lifted the lid.

It was a pair of earrings.  Blue sapphire teardrops with two 
diamonds on either side of the point of each.  They were exquisite.  
They took her breath away.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him.

"They reminded me of you," he spoke softly.

*Oh, man.  You are **so** gonna get lucky, Mulder.* 

She leaned over to gently place them on the coffee table.  Then she 
straightened and rose up on one knee on the couch, swinging her 
other leg over his lap to straddle him.

He dipped his head and said in a voice suddenly low and gravelly, 
"I take it this means you like them."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and responded huskily, "I love 
them, Mulder.  They're the most beautiful earrings I've ever seen."

Then she brought her mouth to his to thank him in the best way she 
knew of.

And it was two long, delirious hours later before she finally 
ushered Mulder out her front door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*I sprang to my phone
and gave her a call;
I missed her, you see,
she had taken my heart with her, after all...*


He waited as long as he could before finally giving into the urge 
to call her.  It was five o'clock.  The Scully's had had enough of 
her today.  It was his turn.

"Scully," she answered.

"Hey, Scully.  It's me," he said in an intimate tone.

"Hi," she replied in her own husky alto.

He got straight to the point.  "When are you coming home?"

"I'm about to leave now," she responded, her smile coming through 
the airwaves to wrap around him like a caress.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah.  It was great.  Everybody came - Bill and Charlie and their 
families."

He paused for a moment, mentally shuddering as he pictured Scully's 
brothers finding out he had boffed their sister last night.  And 
this morning.

"I'm wearing the earrings," he heard her say quietly.

He smiled.  "Did you tell them who they were from?"

"No.  I'd like to keep this to ourselves for a while."

"Yeah.  Me too."

There was a moment of silence as they both considered how precious 
and fragile their new relationship was.

"I found the card in the fireplace," she casually mentioned.

Ah oh.

"Are you mad?"

He held his breath throughout the silence that followed.

"It was a very immature thing to do," she finally chided.

"I know.  I know.  I just... I thought..." he sputtered, pressing 
his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets in frustration.  
Finally he just sighed in resignation.  "I don't know what I was 
thinking, Scully.  I don't think I was thinking, actually," he 
confessed.

And Scully, keeper of all that is compassionate and forgiving, 
chose to have mercy on him.  "Just don't do that again, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed in relief.

Then he remembered something he'd been meaning to ask her.  "Hey, 
Scully.  Did you call me 'Sweetheart' last night?"

Her voice was low as she answered, "Yes.  I believe I did.  Do you 
mind?"

"No.  I don't mind," he replied thoughtfully.  "It's a helluva lot 
better than 'Poopyhead'."

"I like 'Poopyhead'," she argued with a teasing tone.

He just rolled his eyes.  Sweetheart.  Yeah, he could get used to 
Sweetheart.

He heard Scully's mother's voice in the background.  "Mulder, I've 
got to go."

"Call me when you get home," he reminded her.

"Okay," she agreed.  "Bye..."

He was about to tell her the same when he heard in an ultra-low 
tone, "... Poopyhead."

He just grinned.  He was one whipped puppy.  And didn't mind a bit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


*But I had to exclaim
ere she disconnected and took flight,
"Happy Christmas, Scully.
I'll see you tonight."*


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The End 
"The Week Before Christmas"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Hah!  Bet you thought he had gotten her a ring, 
right?  Well, I'm not quite that sappy, and neither is Mulder.  
Sorry if you're disappointed.  I will tell you, however, if you're 
interested, that he gets her one for Valentine's Day.

And, of course, she says 'Yes'.