A slow breeze meandered across the sweltering blacktop
and curled its way through the openings of Scully's t-shirt
and shorts, but provided little relief from the oppressive
summer evening air. She could faintly see the shimmering
waves of heat radiating up off of the asphalt as she crossed
the parking lot to her motel room. She was still pleased
that she'd managed to talk Mulder into letting her make the
run to the 7-Eleven: air conditioned car, air conditioned
convenience mart -- at least she had been able to get some
break from the heat. Mulder was the sucker, staying behind
in their hotter-n-hell motel.

She still couldn't believe that the air conditioning had broken
down in a motel in Georgia, of all places, on a summer evening...
and naturally -- oh, how utterly naturally -- there wasn't a room
to be found anywhere else in town. And they couldn't get a
flight out until the next morning. Naturally. Cursed by the
fates, mocked by the gods.

She hefted the brown paper bag in her arms and let out a
frustrated sigh. No, trying to get to sleep tonight was not
going to be much fun. She could only hope that the alcoholic
beverages in the sack she held would help the time to pass a
little bit easier. They did have something to celebrate, after all:
the case had been solved, the bad guy had been caught, yadda
yadda yadda. And no evidence of the paranormal in sight.
Thank god something was going right on this trip.

When she reached her room she let herself in, threw the
key and her pocketbook on her bed, and made her way into
Mulder's adjoining room.

"She's back," Mulder said in unnecessary color commentary.
He was spread out on the bed, clad only in an undershirt and
biker shorts, hands behind his head.

"And I'm just thrilled about it, too," she grumbled. She set the
bag down on the dresser with a heavy clunk and wiped the
sweat off of her forehead with the back of her arm. Gross.

"Hey, Scully? Do you think there's someone in the world
whose only job is to buy paintings for hotel chains?" Mulder
wondered.

Scully pulled her sticky t-shirt away from her skin, not in the mood
for non sequitors. "Probably."

"Well, if that's their only job, their whole career, all efforts focused
on that one task - wouldn't you think that he or she would be just
a little bit better at it?"

"Is there a point to this observation, or are you just jockeying
for Seinfeld's old job?" she asked dryly.

He smiled an innocent smile that didn't quite fit with the rest of
his expression. "It's just that sometimes the most unsolvable
mysteries in life are also the most mundane."

She barely resisted a gratuitous eye-roll. "That would explain your
predilection for porn. Wait, never mind, the solution to that
mystery is all too obvious."

"Wanna provide me with a better alternative?" he asked, leering at her
affectionately.

She snorted in a manner unbecoming to Margaret Scully's youngest
daughter and pulled the wine coolers out of the bag. "You're going to
have to get me drunk first."

"Oh, like that's going to be a problem."

She opened her mouth to make a snide retort, but he cut her off.
"Wine coolers?" he asked with disdain. "All you could find was wine
coolers?"

"I did the best I could, Mulder. It's Sunday. No liquor stores open,
no supermarkets, nothing. Just a 7-Eleven a few blocks over."

"They must have had beer."

"Only Schlitz, so I thought we'd pass. Do you want one or not?" She
held up a bottle of Bartles & Jaymes Premium.

"Yeah, it'll do." He grabbed it from her and cracked it open with a
relish that belied his complaints.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. He clinked his bottle with hers.
"To a case well-solved," he said.

"Amen."

Mulder adjusted himself into a more comfortable position on the bed,
plumping the pillows against the headboard and leaning into them with
a contented sigh. She eyed him in wonderment. He appeared to be
just as hot and sweaty as she was, but it hardly affected him. Bastard.

Oblivious to her annoyance, Mulder studied the label on the cooler
bottle and began working at the edges with his nearly nonexistent
fingernail. "You know, they say if you peel the label off the bottle
without ripping it, that it means you're getting laid that night."

"I know, Mulder. I went to college, remember?" She outlined the label
on her own bottle with one perfectly manicured nail. Almost perfectly
manicured. She'd need to go see Juanita when she got back to DC.

"So did it ever come true for you?" He continued to work diligently,
not looking at her.

"Never," she said dismally.

"Figures."

"In fact, if I got it off, it was a sure sign that I =wouldn't= be getting laid
that evening," she continued, pursing her lips at the memory. She
decided to leave her label alone, cupped the bottle between her hands
instead.

He spared her a glance and a brief smile. "That's a sad story, Scully."

She took a long drink before replying. "There's a dozen more where
that came from."

"I'll bet...hey, look." He held up the intact cooler label, triumphant. Not
a rip to be seen.

"You're a man of many talents," she said, unimpressed.

His eyes twinkled. "Does that mean I'm getting laid later?"

"Not in this heat."

"Oh, we'll see about that." He swigged noisily from the bottle.

"I suppose we will," she said back, and took a swig herself.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, finishing off their
bottles, then replacing them with fresh ones. Every once in a while
a weak, stale breeze filtered through the screen window, but it
barely made a dent in the heavy heat.

God, it was just too hot. Scully lifted the hair back from her neck and
placed the cold bottle against her skin, hoping for some relief.

"Scully?" His voice sounded strangled.

She smiled. "Yes, Mulder?"

He patted the spot on the bed next to him. "Why don't you, uh,
come over here." He pulled one of the pillows out from behind his
back and placed it by his side against the headboard.

She pretended to consider it, then took the place indicated, kicking
off her shoes and wiggling her toes.

"You have cute feet, Scully."

"Little feet."

"Hmm?"

"Little feet. You know, the kind that can't reach the pedals," she
said tartly.

She could practically hear the rusty gears in his head turning.
"Comity," he said finally.

"Give the man a cigar," she retorted, taking a deep drink. Man,
this stuff was good. Who needed real liquor? She got up and
retrieved a third bottle, went back to her spot on the bed, and
began chugging happily.

"Are you still pissed about that?"

She blinked. "About what?"

"About Comity. That was months ago."

"Of course I'm not." Hmm, was that a lie? She couldn't really
decide.

"I love your feet, Scully. You have delicate feet. Feminine feet."
He put his wine cooler down on the night table and flopped down on
his belly on the bed. He began tracing her feet with his fingers,
over the balls of her feet, over the tip of each toe, studying her like
a freak of nature.

She squirmed. "Mulder, that tickles."

"Sorry," he murmured, and she could feel his breath against her skin.
"Wouldn't want to tickle..." And then his mouth closed over her toe.

Good god. It was a hundred degrees out, and he wanted to pull a
Sid and Nancy routine? His mouth was hot and wet and her feet
were all sweaty... "Mulder."

He didn't respond, just kept sucking.

"Mulder!"

He lifted his head and looked at her inquisitively with puppy dog
eyes.

"It's just...it's just too hot," she said, hoping she sounded apologetic.

Hurt fluttered across his expression for a moment, but he recovered
quickly. "We'll see about that," he whispered, and she was made wary
by the sudden gleam in his eyes. He lifted himself up off of the bed
and snatched his room key from the dresser.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

"I'll be right back." He grabbed the ice bucket and was gone.

Well, wonderful. She hadn't offended him, had she? It wasn't like
she didn't want him, and he sure as hell had to know that...she was
just so tired of sweating.

She wondered, from time to time, if she was being too bitchy to him.
If she took for granted his generally affable nature and ran right over
him. If she was pushing the limits of just how much he could take.

And then, he'd pull something distinctly Mulderesque. Jumping on
a train after she'd specifically told him not to leap. Ditching her for
a bleached blond excuse for a cop. Running off to Hong Kong without
explanation.

So maybe she needed to be a bitch from time to time, just to even the
karmic score. Was that so wrong?

She was draining the remains of her third wine cooler when Mulder
returned, whistling absently, jingling his key, and bearing a bucket of
ice.

"What do you think you're doing with that?" she asked suspiciously.

"What do you think I'm doing with it?" He knelt down beside her
on the floor by the bed and picked up the top cube on the pile, then
set the bucket back down on the floor.

"Mulder, give me a break, this isn't one of your cheap porno -"
She broke off and drew in a sharp breath when the ice cold touched
the bare skin of her leg. "Oh my."

He trailed the cube up her shin, over her knee, up to her thigh,
with infinite slowness, showing exceptional concentration on his
task. "Isn't that better?" he asked quietly.

"Mmm hmm." The block of ice melted gently against her skin,
causing rivulets of water to run over each side of her thigh. It
felt like heaven, ribbons of chill sluicing down her skin, pooling
in the crotch of her shorts. She dropped her empty cooler bottle
onto the floor, then watched as he repeated the procedure on
her other leg, until the ice was completely gone.

"Need a refill." He took another cube from the bucket and this
time applied it to her arm. She obligingly held it out for him and
watched as he slid it up her forearm, and when he rested it in the
hollow over her elbow, her lips parted at the intensity of the
sensation. "Had enough?" he asked.

"Not even close," she said breathlessly.

He smiled devilishly and held the ice cube just above her lips.
She licked them in anticipation, barely restraining herself from
flickering her tongue out to lap at the beckoning cold. He took
mercy on her and lowered it to her skin, outlining her lips, slowly,
carefully, tracing the edges. She opened her mouth and sucked
on it, sucked on his fingers that held the cube between her numbing
lips. Her teeth burned at the shock of it. He watched, mesmerized,
as she sucked on it until it was gone, and only his fingers remained.
She looked over at him questioningly.

He gently withdrew his fingers from her mouth and swallowed
hard. "There's still more ice left, Scully." He selected a third cube,
then pulled her shirt up to just underneath her breasts. She hissed
when he placed the ice against the soft skin of her abdomen.

"Easy..." He traced patterns on her skin, outlined her navel,
meandered up her rib cage, and she marveled at his heretofore
unseen artistic ability. It felt like he was painting the damn Sistine
Chapel down there.

Finally, he pushed her shirt up over her breasts and unhooked the
front clasp of her bra. The moisture between her legs was no longer
due to melted ice, that was for sure. He pushed the lacy cups aside
and plucked a fresh cube from the bucket.

She tried not to, she really did, but she couldn't help but let out a low
moan when the ice came in contact with her nipple. He rubbed it in
lazy circles on the hardened bud, then down the valley between her
breasts, then over to her other nipple, outlining it with a torturous
deliberation.

She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the pillow, smiling. "I
have to admit, Mulder, this feels really, really good..."

He didn't answer. And the next thing she felt was her nipple being
engulfed by his mouth.

Jesus. Her eyes flew open and she bit her lip as she watched him
suckle there, circling the tip with his tongue, then drawing it again
into his mouth and sucking strongly, worrying it with his teeth.
The sensation sent prickles of electricity down her spine, down to
her core, and her clit twitched. She smoothed the hair on the back of his
head; it was so soft beneath her fingertips...of course it was, the whole
trip he'd been stealing her shampoo...oh god.

He looked up at her drawn-out moan. "Want to go back to the ice?"
he asked huskily.

Was he on drugs? She just shook her head in answer.

"Suit yourself." He cupped her other breast in his hand and pulled
the nipple over to him, flicking his tongue over the hard pink bud,
and her hold on his hair tightened. His free hand began to make its
way down the waistband of her shorts. Soon soon soon...she sighed
happily when his hand snaked inside her panties. His expert fingers
found the right spot instantly, and her hips bucked beneath him.

"God, Mulder..." His mouth was moving from one breast to the
other now, tasting, sampling each nipple before moving back to its
mate. It was driving her insane, and making her sweat, and she didn't
even care any more.

He slipped a finger inside of her, making her gasp. "What, Scully?"
he murmured lazily, his mouth pausing only a moment before resuming
its sensuous work on her nipples.

She squirmed beneath him. "More," she managed to spit out.

"Hmm." He bit one of her nipples, making her yelp.

"The lady wants more." He withdrew his fingers from her, making
her scowl.

"What can we do about that?" He roughly pulled her shorts and
panties down her legs and off of her, making her hiss with anticipation.

Crack. That was it. He was definitely on crack. "You're full of stupid
questions tonight, aren't you?" she muttered. "C'mere." She sat up
on the bed and tugged at his arm, signaling that she wanted him to
join her. He eagerly complied, crawling up onto the bed beside her,
but was quickly taken aback when she pushed him down onto his back
and sat on his chest, all before he could even protest. Nevertheless, his
eyes gleamed with an excitement he couldn't conceal.

She discarded her t-shirt and already-half-discarded bra, gave him
a second to get a good look. Then: "I'll show you what you can do
about it," she said, and straddled his face with her thighs.

The second she eased down on top of him his tongue flickered out to
taste her, and she let out a strangled groan. Oh yes. Much better.
Mulder cupped her ass, pulling her even closer, placing his mouth full
on her, sending a thousand bolts of delicious electricity coursing through
her and making her a very, very happy Scully.

With one hand she held on to the headboard so that she wouldn't lose
her balance; with the other, she began kneading her left breast,
squeezing the nipple, hard, the way she liked it. She gyrated leisurely
against Mulder's face, the wet, hungry sounds of his eating her and their
heightened breathing momentarily the only noise in the room.

"Ah...just like that," she told him, urging him on. "Just like that, so good..."
One of his hands reached up to toy with her right breast, wrenching the
nipple, and the combination of that and his tongue fucking her, moving in
and out of her with a steady rhythm, was almost enough to send her overboard
right then and there. She looked down at him, saw that his darkened eyes
were open, watching her intently. That's right, Mulder liked to watch. She
decided to give him a show, tilting her head back, letting her mouth fall
open, licking her lips as she moaned, louder and louder, calling his name.
Her hand clenched the headboard as he took her clit in between his teeth
and sucked strongly. He nibbled and sucked and pulled on it until finally
she went crashing over the cliff, convulsing against his face, her body
wracked with shudder after shudder as she let out a series of high-pitched
sighs.

When the contractions died down she slithered down his body and
collapsed on top of him, her head falling against his chest. He ran his
hands up and down her bare back and made contented sounds deep in
his throat. After a moment she leaned up to kiss him, flinched when
she saw how wet his face had gotten. "Sorry about that," she chuckled,
pulling up the bottom of his undershirt to wipe his mouth off with it.

"Hazards of the job," he said good-naturedly. He pulled the shirt away
from her and kissed her instead, reaching up to bury his fingers in her hair.
They kissed long and slow, their tongues dueling playfully, drinking each
other in with practiced fervor. The heat had suddenly become a turn-on
for Scully, heightening her senses. She loved the feel of his hot, slick skin
against hers, the way the tepid breeze through the window played against
her heated body.

Damn, the man was good.

"Get up," he whispered when their lips parted. She raised an
eyebrow at his commanding tone, but rolled off of him, willing to see
where he would take her. He got up off the bed and discarded his
clothes, quickly and methodically, while she lay back down on the bed,
watching him. When he was naked, she reached out to grab his sex, but
he stopped her. "Turn over."

She looked up at him, and could only nod in response to the stormy desire
reflected in his eyes. Excitement twisted its way down her body, pooling
between her legs, and she smiled in anticipation. She obediently turned
herself over, raising herself up on her hands and knees, feeling her heart
quicken as he got up on the bed and positioned himself behind her.
His hands grasped her hips and pulled her closer to him, and then he
slowly slid into her with a choked intake of breath, filling her completely.
Thick and solid and hot.

"Jesus, Mulder," she whispered, gripping the pillow in front of her.

He pulled out once, then slid back in, pushing her forward slightly.
She bowed her head and looked down at the tacky pattern on the
bed sheets and silently begged him to get on with it.

In and out again, and she heard a low moan rip from her own throat.
Again, and again, and again, and now he was starting to grunt with
the effort of plunging into her, and the primal, guttural sounds only
added to her arousal.

Sweet, hot friction, almost painful in its fullness. She strained up
toward him, trying to take him deeper inside of her. He kept one
hand firmly on her hip and with the other reached forward to cup
her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers with such expertise
that she let out an exclamation of admiration. His body was
covering her now, his breath hot against her hair, his moans so
close to her ear, his groin slapping against her ass over and over
as he thrust steadily into her in a maddeningly wonderful rhythm.
She bit down on her lower lip and clenched the pillow under her
hand, moving with him, panting with the effort of it.

"I'm gonna come, Scully," he whispered harshly, his hips bucking
almost uncontrollably now, harder and faster. "I can't stop..."

"It's okay," she said. Her voice sounded thick and deep. "Let it
go, come inside me..."

He responded by pumping into her even faster, if that were possible,
and moving his hand from her breast down to her clit, stroking her
madly, desperately trying to take her with him. She reared back up
against him as he gushed into her, and the hot explosion of it felt so
good and then he wrenched her clit with his fingers and "Oh god oh
god Mulder I'm coming too..." and just as he was finished she started,
coming again and again as sparks went off behind her eyelids and a
scream ripped from her soul as she convulsed against him.

They collapsed down on to the bed at the same time, side by side.
They were both panting heavily, trying to catch their breath, and Scully
didn't think she had ever been so drenched in sweat. He wrapped his
arms around her, spooning her, and the sweat on their bodies mingled,
slick on their skin. He took a handful of her hair and pulled it away from
her neck, then pressed a tender kiss there, its gentleness at odds with their
recent animalistic coupling. "I'm shaking," he murmured into her ear.

"Me too." Her limbs felt rubbery, her head like cotton, and it wasn't
just from the heat.

"Still too hot?" he whispered playfully.

She chuckled and laced her fingers through his. "Yes. But at least
now I'm hot and satisfied."

"Mmm, me too." He kissed her shoulder, drew the skin between his
teeth and nipped her gently. "Hey, Scully?"

"Yeah?" She closed her eyes, feeling herself beginning to drift off to
sleep.

"I am sorry, you know. About the feet thing. Comity."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Does this mean I have to drive to
the airport tomorrow?"

"No." He kissed her hair. "You just have to keep driving me crazy."

She groaned at the bad joke, and he chuckled self-deprecatingly into
her ear. "Mulder, you were crazy before I ever met you."

"Yeah. Lonely too."

Unexpected tears pricked her eyes. "So was I, Mulder. So was I."

His arms tightened around her as she finally fell asleep.

End.