This is a work in progress.... new parts will probably be posted on ATXC before I get round to putting them here. Not much more to write now, though.
| Loving Scully by Heavenly Creature Scully cries in her sleep. She doesn't know she does it, but she knows where she is when she does it. I have never heard her cry in a motel, or in a hospital bed, or in my bed, but when she's tucked up in her own home she weeps so bitterly and there's nothing I can do. She's crying now. She trembles silently, and I try to comfort her without waking her. We are not lovers. I think Scully deserves better than that, than me, although she denies it. Every time I climb into my bed and she's lying there already, I wonder what on earth I have done to deserve her. I can't think of anything. She holds back more, I don't know what's running through her mind when she does it. She's happy to part company with just a look, just a brief brush of her hand over my fingers and this *wonderful* look where we exchange all the words we haven't yet said. And I love that, but I always pull her by the hand so that her body is close to mine, and I always kiss her like I will never see her again. This makes her laugh, but it's just a little laugh, and then we part, and I have something good to think about until I see her again. We have spent just about the last hundred hours without doing this. We have been living in each others pockets since Monday, and I love that, too. I have barely slept, because I don't want to miss a moment of her now that I don't have to. But we are not lovers, not yet. Scully wakes up, but doesn't open her eyes. Her hand is on my chest and I cover it with my own, and she settles back down. "I love you," I say, and she kisses my shoulder as she falls asleep again. I never thought it would move me so much just to know how soft her skin is. I never thought I could look at someone and find no imperfections, although I'm sure they are there. She must have some. At least one. Surely. But I don't think I could ever find it, even if I wanted to. She snores a little bit, her mouth hanging open, and I wonder if this should be considered an imperfection. I can't see it that way, I really can't. It's so amazing, being in love like this. Some people must search for this all of their lives, and I got Scully without even trying. It's moments like this that drive me crazy, because I love Scully so much, and she's here, and she's mine, and she's so perfect. I wish we were lovers. And I'm not impatient, not really. We have only been together since Friday... hardly even a week. It started in her apartment, a sudden, desperate kiss that defied all sense and reason but felt so *good*. "I love you," I said, and she said it back, loosening my tie and opening the top three buttons on my shirt. This new side of Scully, this different side, was so amazing to me. She was so passionate and so... intense... It made me realise how human she is. We spent an evening tentatively exploring each other, learning and indulging. But then when my hand traced the curve of her waist down to the waistband of her panties, she stopped me. She captured my hand in hers, and guided it back up her body, gently leading it to her breast, not saying a word. And that was that. We fell asleep, our bodies entangled, and I didn't mention it again. Not until last night, when we were in the shower; it had been a tough day, we had ended up soaking wet and covered with mud. You have to understand, it's gotten to the point where even the mere mention of Scully's name arouses me to the point of distraction. So the sensation of her expert hands, lathering my body while she presses up against me... I was hardly breathing. I turned in the tiny cubicle and pulled her up to my soap-slicked body, leaning her back against the wall. She smiled at me, framing my face with her hands. I dropped my head and kissed her tenderly. "You're... so beautiful..." I told her, tucking her hair behind her ear, trailing my fingers down her neck. And she was - so very beautiful. I slid a hand between her thighs, and tried to gently ease them apart. "Mulder, don't," she said, and I stopped, smiling down at her, hoping for some kind of explanation. But she didn't meet my gaze, and so I started to shampoo her hair. "It's not you," she said later, when we got into bed. "What is it then?" I asked, putting an arm over her. She wriggled around to face me and said, "I just don't see why it all has to be about sex." "It doesn't," I said. "It isn't." Scully smiled, and combed her fingers through my hair, affectionately. "I love you," she said, her voice thick with that love. "Sex can be about love too, Scully. Can't it?" She smiled more. "We have so much time for that." "I know." "So much time." I sighed, and Scully turned out the light. And now here we are, only a few hours later on, and I realise that the week we have just spent - the wonderful, blissful week that feels like forever - was only a tiny part of our lives. I have got the rest of our life to discover all the little things about Scully that still puzzle me. I will find out what causes her to cry in her sleep, and I will rectify the problem. She's still sleeping, but peacefully now. I lie awake all night and watch her, and I look forward to tomorrow. --- Scully has this little thing she does from time to time, where her eyes glaze over and she smiles to herself, just for a moment. Then she catches herself and frowns, biting her lip, focusing on her computer, utterly professional. She pretends that nothing happened. But I notice. I sidle over to her desk, put my hand on her shoulder. "What are you thinking about?" I ask in a low voice. "I was thinking about how the blood on the window doesn't match the blood on the wall or the blood of the victim. It doesn't make sense." I put a hand on her other shoulder. "Second killer?" I suggest. "Only one set of prints, one set of tracks back to the road... It's unlikely." "What then?" I ask, losing more and more concentration with every passing second. Scully does that to me. I don't know if she intends to. Maybe sometimes she does. "I don't know," she says, as if she has a vague idea somewhere in her mind. I pull her hair back gently, I like it behind her ears - I can see her face properly. "We have to get through a whole day," Scully says, tipping her head back and staring up at me. "Is it just me or is it more difficult today than yesterday?" I am amazed that this is effecting her as much as it is me. I always thought she was better at paying attention, concentration, working while I'm going crazy cooped up in here; I suppose she's better at pretending, that's all. I find that very reassuring. I grin. "Maybe we should take a week off. Next week." She rolls her eyes. "If we take a week off I'll never want to come back." I lean over and kiss her, but upside down, and then wander back over to my own desk, an absurd grin on my face. "Maybe the second killer was in a wheelchair," I say. "I'll check for tracks." We ask Skinner for time off, and he asks if it's necessary for both of us to go. We manage to persuade him, it isn't hard. And the weekend is so near... Scully drives us home and she breaks the speed limit to get us there, which is most unlike her. We go to her place, which is more like a real home than mine is, and we can eat real food and sleep in a real bed. I like this new Scully that I'm getting to know. She's so much the same in so many ways, but then she snuggles up against me and we have these wonderful conversations about unimportant things. And then there's her smile... These are real smiles I'm seeing now, real smiles, with teeth and everything. They make me feel proud, when I make something as wonderful as that happen. I can't believe the way she has changed, I don't feel like I've changed in any way, except that I'm so unbelievably happy. Maybe that's what is causing Scully to behave in the way that she is. A part of me doesn't care, because I love it so much, but another part of me wants to know every single thought Scully has. I want her to tell me. So we stay up late, and make each other laugh; Scully beats me in a shot-drinking contest, and we get a little bit drunk. We fall asleep on the sofa but wake up in bed - neither of us remember moving. "Where should we go?" Scully asks. "We have a week off." "I thought we could just stay right here," I say. She isn't impressed. She puts her hand on my stomach and brushes small circles with her thumb a couple of times. Right then it feels like the most erotic gesture I could ever imagine. I smile at Scully and ask her where *she* wants to go, deciding that I don't really care as long as I'm with her. She doesn't know. We end up flying out to a little seaside town where we did a case about six months back. It's very peaceful and picturesque, but I spend more of my time looking at her than the view. I really will have to learn to get my brain back to normal. I'm spending all my time focusing on Scully, only on Scully - it's not that I mind, but some day I will probably have to think about something else, and I don't want it to be *too* much of a shock. We still aren't yet lovers. I try not to think about it, but from time to time it troubles me. I wonder if it is something to do with me... And then she slides her arm around my waist and fits so snugly under my armpit, and I forget to worry about it. We have been here two days. It is Monday night, which means it is our ten day anniversary. I don't mention this to Scully because I think she would find it silly, but it means something to me. We aren't talking right now, just sitting and thinking, both of us squished together on the uncomfortable sofa in the hotel we are staying in. She is lying between my legs, her back against my chest, holding my hands against her stomach. Her head is resting on my shoulder, and I press my cheek to her hair, and breathe deeply. I listen to her breathing and imagine her moaning, saying my name, tensing and relaxing under my hands. But I don't do anything. Scully squeezes my hands and kisses my fingers. My skin burns where her lips touch it. I drop my head and place a kiss below her ear. She shivers deliciously and shifts around to kiss me. I'm so glad it's only Monday. While her lips occupy mine, her fingers pull at my t-shirt, and then she pulls it over my head, replacing her lips on my chest. Her kisses are magical, every single one. She nips lightly at my skin and it's absolutely heavenly. I run my fingers over her clavicles, her wonderfully sculpted body. This is another facet to Scully that I love discovering. I always knew that body was under there, under those unflattering suits, but I so rarely got the opportunity to see it before now. I am constantly amazed that Scully is so beautiful and so smart... and on top of it all that she is in love with *me*. Is anything more desirable imaginable? I pull her back up so that I can claim her lips once more. She is sensational, truly. I am so hard by now, and I can't help but move my hips slowly against her leg. I drop a hand down to her ass and slide my fingers down between her thighs, applying pressure to the rigid seam of her jeans. She whimpers and squirms, stroking my face with her fingertips. I want her so badly. I sit up and she kneels, without breaking the kiss, and I move for the button on her jeans. She doesn't react straight away, but then her eyes open and she looks apprehensive. She tells me with just a glance that she loves me. She is sorry. No. I sigh, I am breathless. "Is it me?" I mumble. "No, Mulder." She strokes my hair. "Then what?" Now she sighs, fastening her button back up and sliding out from between my legs, perching on the other end of the sofa. "I thought I explained this," she says in a small voice. "You said you didn't want it to just be sex. It isn't - you *know* it isn't." I edged closer, resting my hand on the small of her back. "Is there something you aren't telling me?" She looks at me and says no. "I want to understand," I say. She strokes my leg and tells me, "I didn't think this was an issue." "I love you," I say. "If you don't want it to be an issue then it won't be. But I need you to be honest with me, Scully. You don't have to hide anything from me." She gets angry. "I said I wasn't, Mulder, I said I was fine.... why don't you believe me?" She jumps to her feet, clutching her head with one hand. She looks tired. "I do believe you," I say, but it doesn't make any difference. "I thought for a second that things might be different with you, Mulder. I thought that maybe you wouldn't treat me like..." She sighs. "I just thought that you of all people would respect me." "I do," I say, standing and holding her arms. "I really do, Scully." "Well it doesn't feel that way. It feels like every time we get close, you try to push things even when I've told you..." She trails off. She looks at me for a minute, thinking, and then sits down heavily on the bed. "Fine," she says, and starts unbuttoning her sweater. "What are you doing?" "I'll do it. If that's what you want." I don't know if this is deliberate reverse psychology, but it works. "I don't," I say, catching her hands and stopping her. "Not if you really don't want to." And I don't want it to happen like this, either; in the middle of an argument with no real resolution. I don't know why she is acting this way and I'm too afraid to ask. So I just sit down next to her and kiss her temple. "Whatever *you* want," I say. "I'm sorry." She smiles now, a tiny smile that I cherish beyond belief. "I'm being childish, aren't I?" she says. I shake my head. "Whatever you want," I repeat. Scully sleeps that night, but I don't. She doesn't cry, she mumbles, but I can't hear or understand what she is saying. I spend the night remembering to be thankful for Scully, holding her in my arms and savouring every second. "I love you," I whisper to her, and she murmurs incoherent answers without waking. The next day we go down to the pebbly beach and sit and talk. We don't talk about last night. We sit holding hands, and we huddle together when the wind picks up. It feels normal, it feels right. It's difficult to find words strong enough to explain exactly how I'm feeling, because I've never had to describe this feeling before. My whole body is alive. It only happens when she is touching me. It makes me feel like I can do anything - I'll live forever and be happy forever, just as long as she is there. We are propped up against some driftwood, comfortably slotted together like lego blocks, and Scully is under my arm, under my coat. She looks radiant today. Her hair is tied back but stray strands fall into her face and blow around in the wind. "I love the sea," she says, in a way that doesn't require an answer from me. I just think about it for a while - the fact that I have learned something new about Scully, and I vow I won't forget it. I have taken to fantasizing when we leave each other to our own thoughts like this. It isn't the same as when I did it before - (I imagine my life as being just six years long, starting when I met Scully, and everything since then is divided into two segments, the second of which started eleven days ago. This segment is the real beginning; the years before were just a prelude to this divine existence) - Before now, my fantasies were exaggerated and ridiculous. Now they are simple, intense, they feel real because I know they could happen. I squeeze Scully tighter than I meant to. "You okay?" she asks, and I release her a little, nodding and smiling. She smiles back. I want to say I love her, but I fear that it will start to mean less if I keep saying it. But I also fear that she thinks I don't love her enough, and that is why she won't have sex with me. Then I fear that I am thinking about the sex too much, which is exactly what she doesn't want. But it's all in my head. "I love you," I say, and she sighs happily, tipping her head back so that we can kiss. We eventually realise that we have spent the whole day just sitting - we are hungry and our legs hurt when we try to stand. We hobble back to the hotel, holding each other upright, and fall into bed, welcoming sleep. --- In the middle of Thursday night I am awoken by Scully. At first I think she is crying, and I wonder whether I should wake her, but then I realise that she is definitely not upset. Scully is dreaming. She whispers my name, not in fear but with passion, and strained little sounds escape from her slightly parted lips. I lie propped up on my elbow, watching her with interest, holding my breath and burning with desire for her. "Mulder..." she says, but as one syllable, one breath. I want to touch her. I want her to wake up and say my name to *me*, not to her imaginary version of me. I desperately want to participate in this fantasy, but I know that I can't and it drives me crazy. She squirms a little, and she starts to climax. A gasp catches in Scully's throat and she body convulses just a little. She opens her eyes and looks right at me, seeming horrified that I have seen this. She fidgets, pulling at her pyjama bottoms uncomfortably. "Why aren't you asleep?" she asks, and I can tell that she is blushing, even in the darkness. "I'm not tired," I whisper, stroking her face affectionately. She sighs and relaxes, a tiny smile spreading over her face. Her arm snakes up around my neck and she pulls me down so our noses touch, and then captures my lips in the most beautiful kiss. We don't sleep that night, we just stay entangled, engrossed in each other, caught up in each other, mesmerized. We are not yet lovers, but I don't dwell on it. I don't have time to; this new version of Scully keeps on growing, keeps on surprising me and pleasing me. I found a photograph in her purse, a photo taken just a few years ago. It feels like so much longer. It is Scully and her mom, taken when her hair was longer and her face was fuller; it's almost beyond belief that this is the same woman - there is something in her eyes now that wasn't there before. And I don't know if it's because we're on holiday, but she opens up to me more, she doesn't hold back as much. The photograph is of a woman who I worked with once, of Clinical Scully, Professional Scully, Scully my friend, my ally. Not the woman who is sitting opposite me in the bathtub, massaging my tired feet with skilled fingers and circling her own feet lazily against my thigh. Not the woman who dissolves into giggles when my breath tickles her neck. She isn't the same. She *is* the same - but she's also more. Relaxed Scully, Radiant Scully. Loving Scully. I lean back and rest my head on the tiling. We are going home tomorrow morning, and we will try to catch up on a weeks paperwork that we've procrastinated over for far too long. Scully tells me not to think about it yet. She strokes my legs, puts pressure on the soles of my feet with the hard bones in her thumbs, and keeps that subtle smile on her face the whole time. When the water gets cold, we struggle out of the tub, not necessarily made for two. I take a towel from the rail and drape it around Scully's back, and slowly rub her dry. She leans against me, her body flat against mine, and nibbles at my flesh while I make large circles on the small of her back with the towel. "Is your.. suitcase.. packed yet?" she asks. "It's all packed," I say, dropping to my knees and lowering the towel to the back of her thighs, kissing her stomach as I wipe away the soapy water. She rakes her fingers through my wet hair, down to my shoulders. "I love you," I tell her, I keep telling her, in between kisses. "Mulder.." she says, and she says it like she did in her dream. I dry her calves, her shins, and then I stand up again and dry her torso, wrapping the towel around her waist. "I love you," she says, her arms around my neck, her lips seeking mine. I lift her right off her feet, and carry her out of the bathroom, enjoying her sweet kiss and the feel of her bare skin touching mine. We lose the towel somewhere along the way, but we don't notice. I don't notice. Scully is so preoccupied with this kiss, so focused, even more than I am. She breaks it just for a moment, and her eyes scan my face, a smile playing on her lips; her smile says that she loves me, her eyes that she wants me. At first I'm not sure that I have read her correctly, but then she sits on the side of the bed, her hands holding mine, and she parts her legs just a little, just the smallest gap between them - though large enough to make me understand I am right. She squeezes my fingers and I sink slowly to my knees. I want to ask her if she is sure about this, but it seems like a stupid question. So instead I decide to ensure that Scully will remember this night for the rest of her life, no matter what. I pause before I do anything, just taking in the moment, appreciating it immensely, glad it was now, glad it was happening. I reach up and press my lips to her neck, lightly kissing, barely touching her. She holds my head in her hands, snuggling her face into my hair. She hooks her leg around me, sliding her calf up my back, up and down, up and down, and she only stops when I ease her back onto the bed. I don't intensify my kisses, I sweep them over her clavicle, her sternum, I brush my lips over the flushed swell of her full breast, and then my tongue darts out to taste her pale pink nipple. I sense that she has let herself go, she isn't trying to restrain herself or hide anything from me. She lets out a low moan as I tug on her nipple with my teeth. I love it - the sound of Scully's voice when she isn't in control of it. She doesn't make a lot of noise, but when she moans and cries softly it is the sweetest sound to my ears. I lavish attention on her breasts, drawing her nipple into my mouth, increasing and decreasing the pressure. I lose myself, I forget where I am. It's an amazing feeling and I will never get tired of it. I tear my lips away from her and sweep her up in my arms, lying down on the bed next to her, pulling her half on top of me. "Oh.. don't stop," she whispers, nibbling on my lower lip. So I roll her back over, and plant a soft kiss on her nose. She smiles, and I take the weight of her breast in my hand. "Close your eyes," I murmur into her ear, licking at the smooth skin of her neck. Her eyes droop closed lazily, and she bites her bottom lip a little nervously. I kiss her pale throat; her rosy breast, kissing over my bitemarks, her ruddy, hardened nipples. I trail kisses down her stomach, pausing momentarily over her little navel, and then shifting myself down the bed, travelling lower. There are no thoughts in my head, except for Scully. Scully is everything to me, she is my thoughts and my fantasies, my reason, my common sense, though she makes me more reckless and spontaneous than I've ever been before. It then occurs to me that this is it, this is the first time, *our* first time. My hand is on her leg. I'm suddenly very aware of everything; I'm inexplicably nervous but wholly elated, and I don't want to wait a second longer. I rest the side of my head on her inner thigh, not really remembering exactly how I got here. I can smell her. Hot, intense, intoxicating. My finger brushes lightly over the damp hair just inches away from my face, and she makes the quietest little whimpering noise, her breathing audible. I sigh, kissing the highest point of her thigh, and pressing my thumb against her swollen clitoris. Her whole body jumps, and she moans, the most delicious sound I have ever heard. I flick my thumb back and forth a couple of times, listening to Scully, finding her wonderful. Then I replace my digit with my lips, so gently at first. "Mulder..." she slurs, gripping my hair with her fingers. I suck lightly, feeling her body crying beneath my spread hands, holding her hips tightly, now nipping at her, licking, lapping. Scully involuntarily thrusts herself into my face, she calls out disjointed syllables which could possibly be my name, and climaxes violently, leaving me practically in tears. She is so beautiful. Breathing heavily, I tenderly stroke her with trembling fingers. She is hot, and soft, and my fingers slide slickly, making wet little noises. I could do this all night, I honestly could. "I love you," she says breathlessly, "I love you." I slide the first and middle finger of my other hand inside her, very, very slowly. I am not disappointed by her response, I honestly believe that I am making her as crazy as she makes me, and that is true power. Her hips buck against my hand, and she shudders uncontrollably, still making those incredible sounds in the back of her throat. I make her orgasms last for as long as I can, stopping only when she beckons to me, taking my hand and leading me back up the bed. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes alive with desire. I have been so caught up in Scully, so obsessed, so focused, that I have barely thought about my own arousal. It sounds ridiculous. It *is* ridiculous. But when she consumes my mind in that way, I don't even know that I'm alive. "Are you okay?" I whisper, and she laughs. "I'm more than just okay," she tells me, hooking her leg over mine, wriggling underneath me. I am so much in love. So much. I can't stop thinking about how much. Scully's hands run smoothly over my flesh, still wet from our bath. Her legs circle my torso, and I slide into her hot, tight depths. I am inside Scully, I think. Inside her. The sensation is amazing, I feel like I am in paradise. She licks her lips and slides them over mine, her tongue invading my mouth, an invasion I don't try to fight. I make tiny movements with my hips, and I feel her body humming beneath mine. And she groans into my mouth, matching my rhythm with her own hips, making me even harder, making my head spin. We don't break eye contact, and that makes it so much more intense. I can read Scully's mind through her eyes, and I'm sure she can do the same. But right now I'm just thinking of her name, Scully, over and over in my head, stuck that way - hopefully forever. My thrusts are slow, almost agonisingly so, but the best kind of agony, where you can't distinguish pleasure from pain, and it doesn't matter anyway because the feelings are so powerful... And I love to hear us crying out together, low grunts and little high pitched whimpers, oh god... My fingers tease her nipple, knead at the soft mound, idly squeezing. I want to make this last forever, capture the moment and keep it in my pocket so that I never need to worry about forgetting. Not that I ever could. I *want* to make it last, but I feel her tense, her body trembling, her heart pounding wildly against mine, and I can't hold back. I come inside her, screaming out for Scully as the rest of the world crashes down around our heads. --- I haven't slept. I'm on a total high. I fear that if I fall asleep, it will be gone when I wake up. Scully is curled up next to me, sleeping, her head tucked against my chest and her legs tangled with mine. I don't want to go home in the morning. I think of the paperwork... It will never get done. I am so tired. My whole body is aching with exhaustion, but the adrenaline rush is preventing me from relaxing. I want to run, for miles and miles, let out all this energy telling the world how much I love Scully. I am happy, but Scully is crying. She isn't in her own bed, and in my optimistic frame of mind I hope it means she feels safe here with me. I want her to feel safe, I want her to know that she cries, and tell me why she does it. Or maybe she doesn't know. Her tears roll onto my chest, and I try to smooth away her frown with the side of my thumb. Her face does relax, and her quiet sobbing stops, but her face is still sad. I don't want Scully to be sad. I want her to be happy - I want it more than anything. I feel that making her happy and keeping her that way is my main reason for living, and right now I'm failing. I don't know what to do. So I try to think that it has just been fourteen days so far. Just fourteen. It's the tiniest fraction of what our life is going to be. There's so much I still have to learn, and there's more than enough time for me to do that. I can't help it if I'm impatient. I kiss the side of her head and pull her into a tighter embrace. Tomorrow, I think, as I feel my eyelids falling shut, sleepiness finally catching up with me. I'll find out tomorrow. I fall sleep with a smile on my face, and I have the sweetest dreams. I can't wait for tomorrow. --- This kind of implies a sequel will be written, but I'm not sure whether I will write one - this story didn't turn out the way I had intended it to at all... but I guess I will end up writing more <sighs> Thanks to everyone who sent feedback while I was writing this, btw, it helped me get it finished. I just hope it isn't a disappointment. |