Scully cursed softly and hid her copy of Jose Chung's
"From Outer Space" underneath a stack of papers as she
heard Mulder approaching the office, knowing that she would
never hear the end of it if he caught her reading what he
considered to be a Manifesto Against the Already Misunderstood
Phenomenon of Alien Abduction, yadda yadda yadda. Whatever.
The door swung open just as she managed to strike an ultra-casual
pose: leaning back in the chair, she propped her feet up on the
desk and examined her nails, whistling as she did so. "Hi Mulder."

"You were reading that Chung book again, weren't you," he said
accusingly.

She looked at him with wide eyes, a deer caught in the headlights
of life. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He shot her a Look. She resented the fact that he was well on
his way to perfecting said Look. She was supposed to be the only
one in the partnership with a capital Look. "Well, where were you?"
she asked, changing the subject defensively.

"I was actually getting some work done. Maybe you remember the
concept?" He threw a manila file onto the desktop next to her feet.
"It's a background check on the perp the DC police took into custody
yesterday. It might turn up something interesting."

Scully shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Mulder, I'm way ahead of you. Lt. Teemoth called a few minutes
ago. The kid confessed. Case closed."

Mulder visibly deflated. "But what about --"

"No buts, Mulder. The case is closed. Let it lie."

"But --"

"Are you deaf?"

He scowled at her. "I wish. Then I wouldn't have to listen to
you."

She rolled her eyes at him in response. They had been on edge,
snippy with each other, for days now, and they both knew why.

It had been ten days since the last time they had sex.

Seven long, busy, exhausting days of working on a case, followed
by the past three days of simple, stupid scheduling conflicts. She
looked him up and down, taking in the strong, lean lines of his body
with a hungry eye, easily visualizing what lay beneath that expensive
suit...she fidgeted in her seat, obscene scenarios racing through her
mind in alarming detail. She beckoned him with her finger, and he
obeyed, not stopping until his face was inches from hers. "Do you
have any idea how much I want you right now?" she whispered.

He did a slight double-take at the abrupt change in atmosphere,
then leaned over further to whisper into her ear. The feel of his
breath against her hair made her lightheaded. "I have a very. Good.
Idea." He nuzzled her ear discreetly. "Your place? Tonight?"

She managed to nod and find her voice, even though her mouth was
suddenly as dry as the Sahara. "Eight o'clock. I'll make dinner."

"Dinner's not the only thing I'm looking forward to devouring," he said
softly, making her shudder.

"Then don't be late."

****
"Dammit!" Scully hissed and sucked on her thumb, glaring at the
offending red-hot casserole dish. She studied the piece of Corning
Ware from a safe distance, trying to work up the guts to do what she
knew had to be done. She finally steeled herself for the inevitable
and inched over to the dish, then peered in hesitantly.

It was bad. Real bad. She grabbed a fork, speared a piece of sausage,
blew on it for a while, and popped it into her mouth.

Oh, god.

Who am I kidding? she wondered. Paging Betty Crocker, Sara Lee,
Aunt Jemima, somebody... She shot the casserole a final deadly
look before she spit the chewed-up sausage into the garbage and
reached for the phone, quickly ordering some pasta and salad from
the Italian restaurant around the corner. He'll never know the difference
anyway, she reasoned.

Now, for the outfit. That was something she could handle. She strolled
to the bedroom, whereupon she ransacked her closet for the ensemble
she had in mind, then dressed very carefully.

"Not bad," she said, appraising herself in the mirror. The nearly-sheer
deep turquoise shirt showed the outline of her black bra, and the short
black skirt barely concealed the edge of the black thigh-high stockings
she wore. Take that, Mulder, she thought, adjusting her bra straps.
Before she left the bedroom, she checked to make sure the handcuffs
were in place, in the top drawer of her nightstand.

****
Mulder was twenty minutes late, surprise, surprise. At least he came
bearing gifts, she told herself -- if a TV Guide and a bag of pretzels
could be considered gifts, that is. Well, when it came to Mulder, it was
definitely the thought, and not the execution, that counted. He did at
least show proper appreciation for her outfit. "Wow," he said, his eyes
traveling slowly over her body. He looked pretty delicious himself in
jeans and a black sweater.

"You like?" she asked throatily, running her hands over her hips.

He answered by drawing her to him, claiming her mouth with his as
one hand slipped underneath her skirt to trace the edge of the thigh-highs.

She returned the kiss eagerly, slightly amused by his directness,
before pulling away. "Dinner's getting cold."

"Who cares?" he murmured, nipping at her neck.

Her knees almost gave out, but she remained strong. She had to
stick to the Plan. "Mulder, I spent all this time slaving over a hot stove.
The least you can do is eat it." She winced a little, realizing how much
she sounded like her mother.

He groaned protestingly, but relented, releasing her. "Okay. I am pretty
hungry."

"Good. Let me just heat it up real quick." She ran into the kitchen
and popped the Italian takeout into the preheated oven.

"You got anything to drink?" he called from the living room.

She swallowed a smile, then took the carton out of the refrigerator,
swiped two glasses from the cabinet and brought it all in to him, setting
the container down on the dining room table with a loud thunk. "Right
here."

His eyes widened. "A box, Scully? Wine in a box? How classy."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "My friend Lorie had a party recently
and wound up with a lot of leftover booze. She pushed some of it off
on me." She opened the spout and poured a generous amount of wine
into each glass. "It's white zinfandel."

"Good enough." He took one of the glasses from her and easily drained
the contents, finishing up with a loud smacking of his lips and a satisfied
grin. "I have to admit, sometimes the cheap stuff sure goes down
smooth," he said happily.

I'm counting on it, she thought. Aloud, she said, "I'm glad it meets
your high standards," and took her glass with her into the kitchen.

She emptied the wine immediately into the sink without tasting it, then
turned her attention to taking the pasta dishes out of the oven. She
carefully scooped the pasta dishes out of their aluminum containers and
onto two plates, and divvied the salad up into two wooden salad bowls.
Just like homemade, she thought with satisfaction.

Dinner table talk was sparse. Mulder shoveled food into his mouth,
and Scully watched with a distaste unmitigated by the fact that his
poor table manners were a familiar sight. He did come up for air long
enough to tell her the meal was delicious. She accepted the compliment
graciously, with only the slightest twinge of guilt.

Meanwhile, determined to keep things on track, Scully diligently refilled
Mulder's wine glass every time the liquid level dropped below the halfway
point. She only took a sip or two from her own glass, although she did
try to make it appear as if that weren't the case, lifting the glass to her
mouth often. She hoped he would be too busy eating and too buzzed
to notice her subterfuge.

At one point, in between mouthfuls of food, he focused on her nearly
full glass of wine. Or tried to, anyway, bless his heart. "Scully, aren't
you gonna have more to drink? This stuff is good." He drained the rest
of his glass and manipulated the spout on the box himself this time,
albeit with clumsy fingers slightly numbed by booze.

"Oh, I've been drinking, Mulder. This is my fourth glass," she lied.

""That's more like it," he said, grinning, goofy but cute.

Almost too easy...

When his eyes started to get glassy, she took the box and put it
back in the refrigerator over his loud protests. She wanted him tipsy
enough so that his response time was dulled, not so drunk he couldn't
get it up. What a disaster that would be. She shuddered.

"Mulder," she said when she returned to the dining room, deciding it
was time to get the show on the road, "it's time for dessert."

He smiled a slow, fuzzy smile. "That's the most appetizing thing I've
heard all night." He pulled her head down to him and kissed her,
sloppily, but by that point Scully didn't care.

"Bedroom," she whispered against his lips.

He nodded and allowed her to lead him into the bedroom, stopping
and pulling her close every few steps to kiss her again and again. By
the time they reached the bed, Mulder covering her body with his,
Scully felt as if she were the one who had had too much to drink. Her
head swam and she sighed contentedly as Mulder ran his tongue up
and down her neck and kneaded her breasts. She slid her legs up
and down against the rough fabric of his jeans, murmured his name.

"Scully..." He responded by lifting her shirt, then tonguing her nipple
through the lace bra with a tantalizing slowness. Her breathing grew
erratic as she let him do it, and it felt so good she almost lost track of
her goal. With an effort she forced herself to refocus, reminding herself
that she had a lesson to teach. Rolling Mulder over until he was beneath
her, she set about kissing him hard, with a consuming fervor, so that he
wouldn't notice her hand reaching over to the nightstand drawer and
surreptitiously pulling out the handcuffs stored inside. He slipped his
hands under her skirt and returned the kiss vigorously, excited by the
change in position. She laid the handcuffs down on the bed next to
her momentarily, then lifted Mulder's hands above his head, holding
them against the headboard. The action apparently turned him on,
because his kisses became even more intense, more demanding.

Then, in a lightning-fast motion born of strength of purpose, she
grabbed the cuffs with one hand while still holding his wrists with
the other, and handcuffed him to the headboard, threading the chain
around one of the convenient metal bars. She smugly realized she
had been right in her planning; Mulder was so stoned he didn't know
what was happening until it was over.

"Huh?" His eyes flew open, disorientation plain on his face. He jerked
on the cuffs a few times before he realized that he was stuck.

Scully smiled an evil smile.

"What are you doing?" he croaked.

"Turnabout is fair play, Mulder." She traced his lips with her tongue
before continuing. "Or did you think I'd forget about that little trick
you pulled with the belt from my robe?"

He furrowed his brow as he apparently tried to recollect the incident
through the haze of his tipsiness. She waited. "But you liked that,"
he protested finally, rattling the cuffs.

"Oh, and you'll like this," she said quietly. "I promise."

She lifted herself off of his lap, then, with an infinitely delicate touch,
she unzipped his jeans, sliding them down his legs and onto the floor.
When she repeated the procedure with his boxers, throwing them
onto the floor and then caressing the strong muscles of his legs, he
took a deep, audible breath. She paused, looked at him inquisitively.

"You want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that," he spat out through gritted teeth.

"Good. Because I want you to say a lot of things, Mulder," she purred,
straddling his thighs, "but 'Stop' is definitely not one of them."

"I'll...do my best not to disappoint you."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't, Mulder," she said coolly. "You haven't yet.
Not in this arena, anyway." She took his cock in her hands, stroked
it with slender fingers, and was rewarded with a jerking of his hips that
sent a thrill of excitement through her. Bending over, she traced the
head of his sex with her tongue very slowly, encouraged by his slight
whimper at the contact. She circled it once, twice, three times -- then
stopped, lifting her head to gauge his reaction. His eyes were shut
tight. "Should I keep going?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Tell me, Mulder. Tell me what you want me to do."

"I want..." His eyelids snapped open and he looked at her, his
hazel eyes darkened with a sensuous fury. "I want you to...to
take me...in your mouth."

She laughed softly. "Since when are you so hesitant, Mulder? Is
it because you're lying here helpless? Because you know that I
can do whatever I want to you? Do you like it, Mulder? Do you like
not being in control? You liked it when I was the helpless one."
She hadn't released his cock while they talked, and now she began
to apply pressure with her fingers, running them up and down along
the shaft. His breathing quickened, and the pleading in his eyes made
her decide to take a little bit of pity on him. Just a little. She went
down on him, taking him fully into her mouth, then came back up, slowly.
A strangled sound escaped from him as she repeated the movement,
and she closed her eyes for a while, enjoying the hot, salty taste of him
as her mouth plunged down on him again and again.

When she sensed he was getting close to the brink, when he was
squirming beneath her like a man enduring torture and uttering her
name with an aching reverence, she lifted up her head. "Do you like
that, Mulder?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"Do you want me to unlock the cuffs? You don't want me to do that,
do you?"

"No." His hands were straining against the cuffs now, and she knew
that more than anything he wanted to touch her, to hungrily attack her,
even though at the same time he was excited beyond belief at being
under her spell and enjoying the delicious anticipation of wondering
what she would do next . She knew because she'd been there.

She got up off of him, off of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked plaintively.

She slipped off her skirt, her panties, her shirt, leaving on only the
bra, knowing she needed to wear it a little while longer, the tiny piece
of metal pressed reassuringly against her breast. When she was
finished undressing, she straddled him again, this time grasping his
cock and pressing the head to the opening of her sex teasingly.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"I want you to make love to me," he said clearly, unfaltering. She
was impressed.

"Do you want me?" she whispered, gyrating her hips fractionally so
that his cock brushed against her sex.

His eyes met hers. "I want you more than anything. I want...aah."
He trailed off as she guided him inside of her, then slowly slid down
on him until he was completely filling her. But she didn't move. She
forced herself to stay still, despite the way his hips jerked up entreatingly,
despite her own overwhelming need.

"Do you love me?" She was taken aback for a moment by how pleading
she sounded. Damn. Her heart had a tendency to put itself on display
without warning....

"You know I do."

"Tell me."

"I love you."

That was all the response she needed. Exhilarated, she began to move
atop of him, taking him into her again and again, setting a rhythm that he
skillfully matched with his hips. She leaned over and kissed him, drinking
him in, loving as always the feel of his tongue against hers, the heat of
his mouth. When she pulled back his voice was desperate, charged with
a thousand different emotions. "Let me go, Scully. I want to touch you..."

She looked into his eyes and could not resist him. She reluctantly
ceased her undulations, then, reaching into her bra, she withdrew the
small silver key and set about unlocking the handcuffs which held him
securely to the headboard. As the cuffs fell to the floor he sprang up,
holding her firmly and taking her with him until he was kneeling, Scully
straddling him, his cock sheathed within her. With deliberate thrusts
he pumped into her again, burying his hands in her hair, kissing her
frantically. She removed her bra and took his head in her hands, guiding
him to her breast. He eagerly latched onto a nipple and lingered there,
nibbling, teasing, until Scully laughed softly from the sheer pleasure of it.

He eventually abandoned her breasts and began to ravage her neck,
taking the soft skin into his mouth and sucking, biting, devouring her
like a man possessed. She tilted her head back as far as it would go,
closing her eyes and moaning loudly. "Mine," he whispered against
her ear, speeding up his thrusts, taking her closer and closer to the edge. "Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou..." His murmurs turned into a deep
groan as he suddenly climaxed, emptying himself into her.

She cried out at the feel of him convulsing inside her, digging her
nails into his shoulders, but had no further release. Well, I guess
maybe it's my own damn fault, getting him all riled up like that, she
thought, disappointed. She disengaged herself from him gingerly,
then snuggled against his chest as he took her into his arms and
planted soft kisses on her face, on her hair, on her shoulder, his
hand running up and down her leg, her thigh, her hip, as if reassuring
himself that she was actually there. "You drive me crazy, Scully,
you know that?" he asked.

She smiled against his skin. "I do my best."

He propped himself up on one elbow so that their eyes met, and
held her gaze for an endless moment as he visibly tried to verbalize
the intensity coursing through him, a few strands of hair falling in
his face. "Scully, I --"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't. Don't speak. No more
words, we've had enough words for tonight..." She broke off as he
stroked her between her legs, finding the right spot, causing her
to arch up against him with a growl.

He laughed softly, then covered her mouth with his, kissing her
thoroughly, his fingers continuing to work her as she wrapped her
arms around his neck. She moved her hips in concert with his hand,
increasing the friction she was receiving from him. She could feel
the tension building inside of her, swirling through her abdomen and
beyond, and when his free hand found her breast, fingering the nipple,
she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. Their lips parted and
he pulled back slightly so that he could watch her, and knowing
what he wanted to see she let herself go, riding the waves, her
body spasming, her voice crying out wordless screams.

When it was over he took her in his arms once again. She wrapped
her legs around his and placed delicate kisses on his chest, loving
the sensation of the two of them forming one body, intertwined,
inseparable.

"Well, that was...educational," he said after a period of comfortable
silence, absently running his hand over her hair.

She lifted her head from his chest slightly to look up at him. "In
what way, exactly?"

He smiled. "Let's just say I've learned that I'd better not dish it
out without expecting it back tenfold."

"You should have known that already."

"Oh, I did," he assured her. "But I was getting tired of waiting for
you to prove it to me."

"Kiss my ass," she snarled.

So he did just that.

End.