The Game
Author: Diana Battis (All4Mulder@aol.com)
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Part two
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Somehow, I manage to get home in one piece.
Purchases are put away with speed, the empty bags neatly folded and stored for future use. Keeping my apartment organized is easy. Trying to maintain the same order in my life is more difficult.
I sit down with a cup of tea, its warmth soothing as I reflect on my earlier experience. Tonight was a revelation, and I am not sure how to proceed. I am standing at the edge of an abyss, and one false move will send me plummeting...
Rapid, insistent knocks at the door shatter the stillness. I move forward to open it, unsurprised to see my partner standing there. Without a word, I step aside to let him enter.
"Hey, Scully, I have something for you." Mulder moves into the room, his presence making the large space seem smaller. One hand is hidden behind his back, and he brings it into view with a flourish. Flowers. A small smile flits across my face. Yellow roses, and their fragrance delights my senses.
I place the bouquet on the coffee table before turning back to him.
"God, Mulder, what was that all about?" I am angry now, and I attack without warning.
"S'matter, Scully? Didn't you like the game?"
"Game? You call that a game? Did it make you feel like a big, macho man, treating me like that? Mulder, I can't believe your balls!"
"Glad you noticed." He is smirking, and I want to slap the look off his face.
"I'm serious. What did you think you were doing?"
"What did I think *I* was doing? Seems to me there were two of us involved, Scully."
His words stop me. I know he's right, and I feel the anger drain out of me. "Mulder, I need to know -- why now?"
"I guess ... I'm just tired of playing by their rules. I want to win for a change."
"So now this is a contest? And I'm the prize? Gee, thanks Mulder." My head dips, my hair falling forward, shielding my face, as tears threaten. "You've succeeded in reducing this to trophy status."
"There's no prize, no trophy, Scully." His voice grows soft, and I know he has seen the single droplet that snakes its way down my cheek. He reaches out to brush it away. "How could you think I'd belittle what's between us like that?"
I give up trying to control my feelings. I've done that so many times before. Finally, I am free from self-imposed restraints that cripple me emotionally and leave only regrets.
"I'm sorry, Mulder. But after tonight, I don't know what I think." My voice is little more than a whisper. "I only know what I feel. I only know I love you."
"No more barriers, Scully. No more lies, or deceptions. No more games. Just truth, our truth. And this." His hand lifts to my cheek, and it gently cups my face before he moves to claim my mouth. I've been in a constant state of arousal for the past hour, and the heat of his mouth, the silky wetness of his tongue as it plays along my lips before dipping inward, is almost more than I can take.
I am wild, meeting him kiss for kiss, tasting him, a sweet, tangy flavor that is markedly his alone. I press closer to him, and feel his heart pound beneath my hands as they caress the muscular breadth of his chest. I want him, oh god, how I want him.
Our lips part, allowing us the luxury of breathing. I am nestled in his arms, my initial pique forgotten. My only thoughts are of the pleasure he can give, will give.
He isn't surprised by my response. I think he's always known that the cool exterior I present to the world hides a very different Scully. I have never been tempted to uncover that woman before. But for Mulder, I am. I do. I don't know when love became part of the equation. I only know that it's there. Before Mulder, my life was empty. Now, his quest for the truth is part of my life, too. But my life also contains another truth: that I love him more than life itself.
And I know he loves me too. Every action speaks of it. Though he hasn't said the words aloud, I know. He uses his lips for other things, yet he is still able to convey the essence of his feelings. Arms that had once pushed away, now embrace me, enfolding me in the safe harbor of his love.
He pulls me closer, and I feel him through his jeans, his hardness pressing against me. I sigh in pleasure, smug in the knowledge of my power over him. But it isn't enough, I want to make him feel more. I run my fingers over his ribs, beneath his belt, listening with pride to the tortured sound of his breathing. I did that to him, too. I feel for the hem of his t-shirt, to tug it from his jeans, and push my hands beneath, running them up the strong wall of his chest. I scrape my nails lightly through the crisp hairs that cover him, searching for and finding the button-sized nipples. They are sensitive to my touch, and I run my fingers over them, gratified to hear his groan of pleasure.
He stops my hands, holding them still against his chest. I feel his heart racing beneath my palm, before he steps back. One smooth movement, and his shirt is off. Now his hands are at my waist, pulling my shirt free, and then it too is gone, to puddle on the floor with his. His fingers, more sure than mine, tackle the snap on my bra, releasing the catch to free my breasts. I think my nipples can't get any tighter, but in seconds I know better. His mouth captures one peak, pulling the pink tip into his mouth, circling it before allowing his tongue to flutter rapidly against the delicate crown. He moves to my other breast and repeats the movements. I am so sensitive there that his actions almost put me over the edge. It is my turn to pull back.
I take his hand, and lead him to the bedroom. This room, my ivory tower, had been used for utilitarian purposes before today. Sleeping, reading, dressing. No personal memories to color the bland character of the room. But all that is about to change.
I sit on the bed, feeling suddenly shy, my arms crossed over my chest. Mulder, kicking off his shoes, notices my discomfort. He comes to me, stooping before me and gently takes my foot in his hand. His fingers remove my shoe, and I am surprised to see his hand is trembling as he reaches for my other ankle to repeat the operation.
He stops suddenly, and our eyes meet. His hands are reaching for mine, pulling them away from my breasts to hold them in his, threading our fingers together. "Scully, is this too fast for you? Am I rushing things? I don't want to pressure you." He lets my hands go, placing his on his knees as he crouches in front of me. "I was wrong to do that earlier tonight. I'm sorry."
I feel the beginnings of fear in my heart. He is regretting what has happened, and is looking for a way out. My face must reflect the inner turmoil I am experiencing, for he starts shaking his head. "Oh no, don't think that. Not even for a second. I love you, Scully." He says it matter-of-factly, but the slight huskiness of his voice betrays the strong emotions he is experiencing. "I've been waiting for you my whole life. You're my one in five billion, remember." And I smile at that, the fear replaced by delight.
I must answer him, and I struggle for the words, the right ones to show him exactly how I feel. But actions speak louder than words. I reach out with my foot, to touch him. His position makes it easy to express my feelings. I place the ball of my foot against the bulge in his jeans, and press. I feel his body jump, his arousal pressing harder against my toes. I treat his sex like bath water, wiggling my toes against it to test the temperature. It's hot, and I smile in anticipation.
He stands suddenly, and pushes me back onto the bed. I lie there, watching him peel off the rest of his clothes, jeans hitting the floor and change scattering as the contents of his pockets roll out. His boxers are next, and my breath catches in my throat as I look at him.
I have seen Mulder naked before, but not like this, never like this. He is all powerful, a Greek god come to life, tall and strong and perfect. He is beautiful in his arousal, and I lay there quivering in anticipation, still amazed to think that I am the cause of it.
He leans down to where I lay, his hands finding and releasing the button on my jeans and sliding the zipper down. I lift my hips, and my jeans are gone along with my panties. And now we are equal.
My arms raise in welcome, and he lies down beside me. His lips are on my cheek, kissing my face lightly, tongue running to my chin where he stops. Poised over me, looking deep into my eyes, he smiles, then lowers his mouth to mine.
I will never tire of kissing Mulder. I have dreamt of his mouth, that full lower lip that speaks of his passionate nature. Perfectly formed, his lips fit against mine as though they were meant for me. I think they were.
I moan helplessly as I feel his tongue again. He thrusts it rhythmically in and out of my mouth, mimicking the act I am so desperate for, before finally staying to taste me. I remember the strawberries, and wonder if he is enjoying his taste.
I shift restlessly beneath him, feeling him hot against my thigh. I am ready, wet and aching, and I reach down to hold him, surprised that something so hard could feel so smooth, too. He groans as I touch him, my hand gently exploring, learning the texture and substance of him. He pulls my hand away. "No, Scully." His voice is barely above a whisper, and I see him swallow hard, his throat tight with the effort. "I've been waiting a long time for this. I want to make it last a little longer."
He moves to lie beside me, and my body is suddenly cold, missing the warmth of his. I cry out in frustration, and his hand moves to soothe me, stroking my hair back from my face. The same hand travels, down my neck to my shoulder, and then to my breast, stroking it lightly before moving to cup it. He holds it gently, lifting the peak to his mouth. His teeth scrape across the tip, sending ripples of pleasure through me. He sucks the nipple, pulling it lightly with his lips, bathing it with his tongue. He shifts to the other breast, and I feel the rasp of his stubble on it, a sandpapery brush that fuels my excitement.
His other hand is busy, too. It has worked its way down to my stomach, tracing random patterns lightly on my skin. I roll my hips, and push up against his hand as it reaches the apex of my thighs. He strokes, moving closer to the curl-covered mound. My body lifts from the bed, trying to force the contact I crave so badly. I am so wet, it seems as though I weep for him there.
"Please, please..." I am pleading with him, my head moving from side to side. I am almost out of my mind with wanting. Mulder hears my cries, and his hand covers me, parting the curls to find the bud nestled within. He strokes lightly with the pad of his thumb, sending waves of pleasure through me. I gasp, and decide this was not a good idea. I want our first time together to happen just that way -- together.
I reach down to still his hand. We have waited long enough. "Now, Mulder, now." He moves over me, his face intense and passionate. Poised, he descends and I feel him enter me, filling my body the way he already fills my heart. Completely.
We move together, and it is so much better than my fantasies. I realize that I am murmuring his name, over and over, in unison with his thrusts. We are climbing together, almost to the top, and I am breathing as though I have really scaled a mountain. I am almost there, reaching for the crest, and then I am there, flying, and waves of pleasure flow through me. He increases his speed, driving into me harder and faster. I hear him groan my name, as he too reaches that peak.
We lie together, exhausted.
"Tell me, Scully, why did we wait so long to do this?" His voice is thick with emotion.
I smile, and press a small kiss against his chest. "I don't know, Mulder. But I want a rematch, and soon." I hear the rumble of his laughter.
"A challenge, Scully? I accept."
"We're pretty evenly matched, you know. How about we make it a little more interesting next time?"
"More interesting? Scully, I'm crushed." The amusement in his voice belies his words. "What do you have in mind?"
My hand slowly moves down his body. I reach out to caress him, and smile in satisfaction at his immediate response to my touch. Stroking him, I reply, "Oh, I don't know, Mulder. Why don't we just wait and ... see what comes up."
"That's cheating." He shudders as I continue my exploration.
"I never promised to play by the rules."
"No, you didn't." His voice is soft, and his hand reaches out to cover mine as it moves slowly over his arousal.
The first game was over, and I guess you could say it was a draw. As for how the second one will end, who knows? And who really cares? We're both excellent players. And after all, it's not whether you win or lose that counts, it's how you play the game.
The End
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