Title: Two Rooms, Sort Of... Author: Alelou Feedback: Alelou123@aol.com Rating: NC-17 Category: MSR, H, V, Smut Spoilers: Nope Archive: Let me know, okay? Disclaimer: Chris Carter's and 1013's, not mine Author Notes: This is part of my "Sort Of..." series. In the first installment, "A Proposal, Sort Of...," our favorite couple agree to get married as the best alternative to killing each other. (You might want to read that first, but you don't have to.) Scully decides it would be wise to have sex immediately, before any disasters befall them, which brings us to this installment. Many thanks to MystPhile and Ambress for their wonderful beta services and general encouragement. "Um, Scully, how do you propose we explain this to Skinner?" Mulder asked, as he took the exit for the Econolodge she had suggested. "We could tell him I came down with a sudden fever," she offered. "Because, you know, suddenly I'm feeling very, very hot." Mulder swallowed convulsively and bumped the Taurus right over the corner of the curb into the parking lot. Before she knew it, he was out and sprinting for the front desk. She waited anxiously, resisting the urge to follow him and make sure he wasn't knocked out cold by some Consortium spy, or a monster they hadn't heard of yet. But he soon returned with two keys and a grin that reminded her of the big bad wolf. "Two rooms?" she asked. "Skinner." "Oh." Either their famous non-verbal communication was working well, or language was fast deserting them. Mulder opened the door of the room closest to their parking space and pushed her in ahead of him with more pressure than usual to his favorite spot on the small of her back. Not one to be pushed around, Scully quickly turned and prepared to stand her ground. But Hurricane Mulder was on her immediately, raining down kisses, a deluge that soon worked its way without resistance into her mouth. She opened wide and soaked him in like a dry riverbank, thirstily absorbing the taste of his sunflower seeds and coffee and Mulderness. Breathing proved difficult in the face of such heavy weather, however, and finally she ripped herself back from his embrace and sucked in much-needed oxygen. He looked at her wildly, as if he were half-expecting her to tell him to stop. She looked back at him, breathless and excited -- the way she looked at him when they were on the chase. Hot springs within her, long buried, were rising and filling her to overflowing -- and she was caught up in a current that was exciting and dangerous and thrillingly unstoppable. Well, except for one thing. "Clothes," she whispered hoarsely. So they tore their clothes off. Mulder standing before her without his clothes on struck Scully as a little scrawnier than she had imagined, sort of the way a dog who gets soaked suddenly looked diminished. However, he was sporting an eager erection, something she might describe as an elegant sufficiency once she got past her immediate reaction -- the same one she had always had to guys' erections -- which was that they looked ridiculous. Imagine having to grow up with a body part like that attached to oneself, ready to betray you at a moment's notice! And here was Mulder, the least secure man in the universe, willingly naked and erect in front of her. She flushed with sudden tenderness for him. Mulder, for his part, wasn't doing a lot of deep thinking about Scully without clothes on. He did notice, briefly, that he had to look a lot further down than when she had her shoes on. More importantly, however, she was rounded in all the right places, and her pert little nipples were not only standing nicely at attention, but her chest had flushed the same lovely shade of pink as her face. "Oh, momma," he whispered reverently, wanting to worship at the altar of those sweet breasts. She looked taken aback. "What?" he asked. "'Oh, momma'?" He looked apologetic. "It's a guy thing." She smiled weakly and thought that she really didn't want to analyze *that* one any further. She began to move toward him, resolute that this thing would happen, already, before a cow or a spaceship fell into their bed or a hazmat crew from the CDC knocked the door down and demanded to sanitize everything. "Do I smell like a goat?" he suddenly asked. She stopped, confused. "What?" He lifted an underarm and took a sniff. "I think I'm a bit ripe, what with the heat of the day and all." "Mulder, I do autopsies, for God's sake. I'll take your manly perspiration over a week-old corpse any day." His erection flagged ever so slightly. "Sorry," she murmured, pulling him down to where she could tongue his earlobe and rub her breasts against his bare chest. "Mmm-mmm," he said happily, springing back up to his full former state of enthusiasm. She moved down his neck and headed for his nipples, a match-up that was much less of a strain on their two physiques. "You *are* a bit salty," she observed huskily. "I like it." Somehow he'd had Scully pegged as more of a fan of personal hygiene, but he wasn't going to complain. "But enough about me," he said, lifting her up easily and laying her gently on the bed. He kissed her thoroughly before making his way down her throat to his personal goal: nipples, left and right. She arched and moaned in pleasure, which he took as a good sign -- her breasts and his mouth, a match made in heaven. She was trying to grasp his bobbing cock with her hand, he noticed dimly, but it was apparently a too distant target. He sloped his back and scooted up, quite willing to accommodate her wishes. "Oh, oh, oh," she breathed, as she got him in hand at last and rubbed him between her legs, spreading what he thought with great self-satisfaction was a quite abundant supply of wet Scullyness. "Mulder, I want you inside me," she moaned, trying with her hand to insert his engorged tab A into her throbbing slot B, but defeated by the angle. Mulder was thoroughly enchanted at hearing his partner make such a request, but figured with some desperation that he'd last maybe two thrusts at this rate. "Wouldn't you like me to lick you?" he asked hopefully. It was so de rigeur today. And he wouldn't have to worry quite so urgently about humiliating himself. "Next time," she sighed. "In. Now." "You don't think we should use a--" Oh hell, did he even have one? "No, I don't." More surprises -- Scully was a trusting soul. Or maybe, their lives being what they were, she was willing to run the risk that he carried more than a badge. Since he knew he was clean, he really didn't feel the need to argue with her. "Please, Mulder," she moaned. There was no denying a plea like that. Hoping that a change in position might allow him to avoid embarrassing himself, he rolled over, taking her as best he could with him. After a moment of surprise she figured out his intentions in good partnerly fashion and eased herself aboard, eyes shutting in concentration, rapture on her face. "Ah," he breathed, as he felt her tight folds close around him, amazed that they had actually, finally reached this point and feeling moved to tears. Don't get girly, Mulder, he told himself roughly, then forgot everything else as she began to move, experimentally, up and down, forward, backward. "Ah. Ah, Scully." "Ah," she echoed, grunting happily and settling into a rhythm that appeared to suit her very well. That was fine for her, but a little too fine for him. The image of his partner rocking slowly and ecstatically on top of him, her lovely round tits bouncing ever so slightly, her lips twisted in what was undeniably a satisfied smile, was almost more than he could stand. Hell, just the rare sight of seeing Scully smiling that much was almost enough to send him over the edge. He didn't want to close his own eyes and miss the best show in his entire life, so he put his hands on her hips and stilled her. Her eyes opened. "Mm?" she inquired. "I need a short time out." She looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled again. She leaned down and kissed his chest, avoiding his nipples for now. They lay together for some moments in a companionable silence. Mulder was sure there was something he ought to be doing at this point if he were a truly gifted and creative lover, but he was afraid of provoking any more movement of any kind whatsoever, so he settled for caressing her hair. Unfortunately, this reminded him of other moments when he'd been allowed to do this, usually involving tremendous pain and suffering on Scully's part, and that really helped him out with his current problem -- whoops, almost too much. "Okay, play ball," he announced, hands rising to grasp the mounds of Scully's breasts and cup them in a kind of loving homage to her Wonder bra. She giggled -- Scully giggled! -- and picked up her rhythm again, this time with a bit more urgency. And although the women in the films Mulder watched with great interest (sometimes rewinding his tape over and over to review his favorite sections) never needed much encouragement to achieve apparently mindblowing orgasms, he was also the type to do more serious research. So he decided to apply a little manual pressure to his partner's clit before he had to call another delay of game. "Oh my God," she breathed. Bingo. Mulder sent a prayer of thanks to a God he didn't quite believe in -- although at the moment he was definitely reconsidering -- that he'd finally gotten to see Dana Scully absolutely helpless and uninhibited in the best possible way. Her panting breaths became louder, high keening wails, really, and he was delighted to find that she was not as stingy in her reaction to their lovemaking as she was in her reaction to his jokes. For her part, Scully -- not any more immune to performance anxiety than Mulder -- was now basking in the blessed certainty that she need not worry any further. And then all conscious thought was gone and she was coasting on waves of pleasure so keen it almost hurt. When she came back to herself she found herself crying in sheer relief. A long, long drought was over at last. And the man she loved was staring at her with wonder on his face. Well, wonder and concern. "You okay, Scully?" "I'm wonderful," she said. "How are you?" "Never better." "Sure about that?" she asked, impishly contracting her muscles around him. He growled and rolled them both over again so that she was under him. She smiled up at him as he began to thrust deeply. Reaching below, she cupped his balls and pressed at some point that he figured must be something they taught in medical school, because the sensation was electrifying. "Oh God," he moaned in new-found piety and went wild, thrusting with abandon and shooting his little uber-Mulders into the one place he'd deeply feared they would never, ever go. "Love you, Scully," he sighed, flush with endorphins. He extracted himself gently and collapsed right next to her so that he didn't squish her under his suddenly nerveless body. To his delight, she curled into him. "You didn't play fair," he added. "I had some hopes of stretching that out a little bit longer, you know." "Maybe next time," she said indulgently. "Seven years is enough damned foreplay if you ask me." "Well, I did read somewhere that women like foreplay." "Yeah, right, blame it on me." "You trying to tell me I'm a weenie?" "I think we already had this argument in the car." "And look where it got me," he said, snuggling up even closer to her, if that were possible. "Spooning like baby cats with a very naked Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully." "Some people call them kittens, you know." "Scully, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" She couldn't help a choked laugh. "You wouldn't marry a guy just to get him to shut up, would you? I mean, you'd only do it for love, right?" It was a question lightly given, but she knew Mulder well enough to know he was hanging on her reply in some desperation. She turned to look him in the eye. "I'd sure as hell only marry *you* for love, Mulder." His smile was huge and almost alarming because she wasn't sure she'd ever known that he had that many teeth. It did things to his face she'd never seen before and would have to get used to. "So you love me?" he asked. "Yes, I love you." "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," he said. "I think I do, actually." When he didn't reply, she cleared her throat significantly. "What?" "And?" "What? Oh -- but I said that already." "I'm sorry, but nothing a man says while coming has any validity whatsoever." "You just never believe a word I say, do you?" "Dammit, Mulder --" "I love you!" he exclaimed, and then earnestly continued, "I love you more than life itself. I consider you more necessary than oxygen and more important than an entire planet. If you ceased to exist, I firmly believe that time as I know it would come to a complete standstill." "Oh." Wow. Much as she'd wanted to hear him say he loved her, she hadn't really planned on being higher on his priority list than the entire planet. That was possibly even a little disturbing, given the somewhat-higher-than-average chance they both had of affecting the future of said planet. But maybe it was typical Mulder hyperbole. After all, he hadn't said she was more important than the X Files.... "So, are you satisfied now?" "That's an interesting question," she replied coolly, reaching down into his nether regions. "Are you?" He gasped and was almost instantly as hard as a rock. "Well that just clinches it," he said. "I definitely, definitely love you." She laughed outright. "Mulder," she said, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful sex life." THE END Author's Note: This was my first attempt at writing smut. And it was a lot harder after "This Much Is Certain" came out and MystPhile wouldn't even let me use the word "nubbin" anymore! By the way, she and Ambress did their level best to get me to make this *really* hot, and I demurred, so any shortcomings in that area are NOT their fault. Thank you to all who sent feedback and begged for Part 2. There will be more "Sort Of" stories, someday. But not right away. I have a little UST piece to finish first.