Scully sat on the edge of the weather-beaten wooden dock and watched
her feet as they dangled above the water, her toes wiggling delightedly
in the lazy, cool breeze off the lake. The heat from the late afternoon
sun bathed her skin without warming it overmuch; and she had hopefully
slathered on enough sunblock that a burn wasn't in the forecast. She
frowned at the memory of her last serious sunburn -- she'd been pink
for so long that she'd still been sporting a slight flush around Halloween.
The wonderful people at Coppertone were going to prevent a reprise
of that little performance, thank you very much.

She took in a deep breath of freshwater air and let it out with a satisfied
sigh. Not even sunset and she was already immersed in a lovely alcoholic
haze, thanks to the red wine she and Mulder had been drinking steadily
throughout the afternoon. Her questionable culinary sensibilities were
aware that red wine wasn't the ideal choice for the middle of a sunny day,
with no food as an accompaniment; but Jack Willis had been the one to
drill it into her that when the Beaujolais Nouveau comes in to the stores,
you have to grab the moment, and so she and Mulder had loaded up at
a trip to the local liquor store earlier that day. Besides, she told herself
unconvincingly, everyone knows that red wine is good for your heart --
why, she could write the whole venture off as a health benefit.

She checked to make sure her breasts were still snug inside the black
halter-style bikini top that was on loan from her friend Ellen, tugged at
the uppermost edges of the cups, and marveled yet again that she was
sitting around in a bathingsuit at the beginning of December. Amazing
that Ellen had offered them the use of her and her husband's summer
home in South Carolina for the weekend -- a summer home with a
private dock and boathouse, no less. Turning her down would have
been an even dumber mistake than the kind she was all too often
accused of making these days. The kind that inevitably involved her
partner/lover/best friend/whatever the hell he was at the moment.

Time to face facts: sun poisoning, a bloated liver -- these were acceptable
risks for the chance to spend a weekend alone with Mulder. A warm, glorious,
work-free, stress-free, water-sport-filled weekend. She bit her lip in
remembrance of the night before, making love in the water, the moonlight
glowing on their pale skin, holding onto one of the dock's support pillars
as Mulder drove into her over and over, her sharp moans dissipating
into the dark.

Dana, you are lost. Completely, utterly, irrevocably. Congratulations; you
have passed Go, collected your $200, and are well on your way to
permanent co-dependent insanity.

Did Hallmark have a card for that?

Footsteps sounded on the wooden planks. "The second bottle's gone."

She covered her eyes with her hand and peered up at Mulder as he handed
her a fresh glass of Georges Deboeuf. She was still disappointed he hadn't
elected to walk around in his Speedo today; he instead sported a gray t-shirt
and denim shorts. "We have three more left, don't we?"

He shrugged and sat down beside her on the dock. "Just giving you an
update."

She nodded approval and took a healthy sip of red wine as the two
of them looked out at the water in companionable silence. It was a semi-
private lake, and as such there was little to no nautical traffic; only the
occasional sailboat or speedboat pierced the quiet that hung over the lake,
and even those were few and far between. Lush green trees framed the
edges of the water and scattered wildflowers littered the low surrounding
hills with bursts of color and fragrance. The utter placidity of it all added
to the feeling Scully had been having all weekend that she and Mulder
were more alone than they had ever been. Alone but together, she
amended.

"What are you thinking?" Mulder prodded after a while, never one to let
the silence linger for too long.

"That it feels like we're the only two people left in the world," she answered
truthfully. She turned to look at him. "And that I like it."

He grinned. "So you wouldn't have a problem with a radioactive comet
wiping out the rest of the population, is what you're saying."

She tried not to think about the fact that the way he squinted into the sun
as he regarded her was ridiculously adorable. "No, that's not what I said.
I think if that were to happen, I'd get pretty sick of you after a while."

He nodded, not surprised. "The feeling's mutual, Scully."

"Always the sweet-talker, aren't you." She took another long swallow
of wine, noting with medical detachment that her buzz had kicked up a
notch. "Actually, Mulder, I was thinking about how disappointed I am
that you're not modeling your red Speedo for me today. You wore it
swimming yesterday, but now..." She trailed off and returned to her
wine, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the fuzziness enveloping
her brain.

He bit out a short laugh. "You have got to be kidding me."

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not. I feel deprived. Am I suddenly
not Speedo-worthy?" she pouted, noting that the only time she ever pouted
was when she'd had too much to drink. Another glass and she'd
start the giggling.

"You don't strike me as the type who goes for that sort of thing, Scully.
I pictured you as more of a standard, uh, what do you call 'em...trunks
type." He drank heavily from his glass and smacked his lips in
appreciation. His full, sensuous lips...hold on there, Dana.

"I am, actually," she said, recovering from her erotic reverie. "But I have
been known to make allowances in certain cases. Ex-shep...exceptional
cases." She stared pointedly at his crotch and was perversely pleased
when he looked embarrassed. "Besides, who're you calling 'standard?'"

"Nobody," he mumbled, staring down at his glass. Alcohol had a tendency
to dull his wit just a little.

She grinned at his discomfort and went back to watching the cool breeze
play off the surface of the lake, giving rise to gentle ripples that danced up
and down along the water. "Does this place remind you of Quonick...Quono..
Rhode Island?" she asked.

"No." Abrupt, curt, and she decided not to press the issue.

"It reminds me of this place we lived once," she said instead, diverting
the topic. "It was somewhere in Virginia, I don't even remember where --
I was only around five at the time. But my dad used to take us sailing
just about every weekend until we had to move." She frowned as she
remembered that was also around the time her dad had taken to calling
Bill Skipper. Good lord. Did that make her Gilligan?

"Must've been nice," Mulder said neutrally.

"It was. Too bad Ellen and Rob already drydocked their boat for the
season."

"'S probably just as well. I'm a landlubber, r'member?" he said, making
weird gestures with his hands that she assumed were meant to represent
waves.

He's starting to slur his words already, she thought; maybe he's
had more to drink than I thought. She suppressed a snicker. "Point
taken."

They sat in silence again, until Mulder took a deep breath and let
it out in a rush. "D'you...d'you think your dad would've liked me,
Scully? Even if I am a landlubber?"he added, trying to inject
lightness into his query. It didn't quite work.

God. She took a deep swallow of wine in an attempt to dislodge the
sudden lump in her throat. "Yeah," she said when she trusted herself
to speak. "He wouldn't be crazy about the effect your work has had
on my life, or the danger it puts me in," she said honestly, "but he would
have known that you're a good man, Mulder. I think...I think you would
have liked each other."

Silence as he digested this information, then: "Thanks," he said softly.
She smiled at him, and he smiled right back. Her stomach did an
Olympic-level somersault.

He reached up to caress her bare back, moved by the moment, but
she stiffened and stifled a yelp at his touch.

"What is it?"

"I must have missed a spot on my back with the sunblock," she said.
"Hurt like a bitch when you touched it."

"Sorry," he murmured. "Want me to put some more on for you?"

"Please," she said gratefully. He drained the rest of his glass, then
let out a low grunt as he stood, cursing the effect the wine was having
on his coordination. But he recovered with aplomb and snatched up
the tube of Coppertone that rested on the towel at her side, then seated
himself behind her, his legs framing her own, warm and hairy and scratchy.
The lotion he began to apply was blessedly cool against her hot skin, and
she let out a satisfied sigh.

"Feel good?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm." His fingers finished covering the afflicted area with sunblock,
then ventured to other parts of her back, digging into her shoulders, her neck,
but careful not to touch the section that had just been bothering her. What
had she done to deserve a backrub? She'd have to think of an appropriate
form of thanks later. The heels of his palms massaged her shoulder blades,
and she couldn't help the small, high-pitched moan that meandered its way
past her lips.

In response to her obvious pleasure he lowered his mouth to her neck, tongue
flickering against her skin, and this time the moan that escaped her throat was
long and low. "Mulder..." She inclined her neck, giving him better access.
His breath was hot against her hair.

He whispered her name and brought his hands around to her front, reaching
up to cup her breasts. He teased her nipples through the thin, slick fabric of
the bikini, and they hardened almost immediately. She set her now empty
wine glass down beside her, closed her eyes, and gave in to the sensation,
at least for the moment. He began kneading her breasts with gusto, palming
them fully, his mouth and tongue still working against her neck, her earlobe.
"You taste like cocoa butter," he whispered.

His words brought her back to reality somewhat. "Mulder...this isn't the
place for this..." she managed to gasp. Last night had been different,
they'd had the cover of darkness and been submerged in the water, but
this...this...Sister Mary Ernestine would have a cow. And why the hell
did her ninth grade religion teacher still insist on popping into her head
at the worst possible moment? She growled at the intrusion.

"Shhh." His lips were right against her ear, and she shivered at his low hiss.
"There's no one here to see us, Scully. Just relax." And with that he untied
the string around her neck, and the string around her back, and removed her
bikini top, throwing it somewhere behind him.

Oh my god, she had the presence of mind to think, and then Mulder
squeezed her nipples with his fingers. She reared back up against him.
"Does the sun feel good against your breasts, Scully?" he asked in a
deep voice roughened by desire.

It actually felt amazing: the heat from the sun, the cool breeze off the water,
and the attention of Mulder's thumbs and forefingers all combined to form
an unusual sensory experience. But she settled for a simple, "Yes."

"Good." She almost cursed when he pulled his hands from her breasts, but
changed her mind when he immediately moved from behind her and gently
lay her down on the deck. The warm wood was harsh against her back,
but she didn't complain, especially not when he lowered his mouth to one
breast, taking the nipple in between his teeth.

"God, Mulder..." She smoothed his hair with her hand as she watched him
suckle her, and had to admit it was a lovely sight. His eyes were closed in
concentration, and the vision of his tongue darting out of his mouth to circle
her marbleized pink nipple was nearly enough to send her right over the edge.
She rested her head back on the deck and closed her eyes, the sun searing
her eyelids, and realized that she could quite possibly be happy doing nothing
but this for the rest of her life. "That's right, just like that," she said breathily,
urging him to please god don't stop. Little currents of electricity raced down
her body, from her nipples straight to her clit, and she writhed indelicately
beneath him in rapture.

He moved his mouth from her left breast to her right, as if that one might
taste differently, and worried the bud with his teeth, nibbling hard enough
that she let out an aroused moan: a mixture of pleasure and pain. She
grabbed at the hem of his shirt, and he paused long enough to raise himself
up and lift the shirt up over his head before bending back down to what he
was doing. She ran her hands up and down the strong planes of his bare
back, loving the way the muscles bunched beneath her fingertips. His
right hand suddenly slipped underneath the bottom of her bikini, and her
hips bucked against him as he began to caress her there, his mouth
continuing to work at her breast. She moaned his name and moved her
hips in time to his hand, still clutching at his strong, firm back. He smelled
of sweat and booze and laundry detergent and she breathed it in deeply,
breathed him in.

When he finally lifted himself up to kiss her on the mouth, cradling her
face with his hands, she took the opportunity to push him up and over,
flipping him onto his back so that she now straddled him. Despite his
surprise they didn't even break the kiss; she buried her hands in his hair and
they continued to go at it like teenagers in heat. She sucked strongly on
his tongue, using her own to outline the contours of his mouth, tasting
the tang of wine and the saltiness of the sunflower seeds he'd been eating
throughout the day. His hands found her breasts again -- he was fixated
on them today, apparently -- and cupped them reverently, her nipples
grazing his palms.

"This is crazy," she whispered when they came up for air. "It's the middle
of the day, anyone could see us --"

"No one's going to see us," Mulder assured her, reaching up to caress her
cheek. "And even if they do -- who cares?"

"I --" She paused; she'd been ready to offer up an automatic protest, but the
more she thought about it, the less she cared. Take that, Sister Ernestine.

Damn. There she went again. "I...."

"I want to be inside you," Mulder rasped, cutting her off. "Right now,
Scully." He thrusted up against her in emphasis, and she gasped at the
feel of his hard cock through the denim of his shorts.

She nodded, losing any inclination to argue, and rolled off of him just
long enough to shimmy out of her bikini bottom, then took great pleasure
in undoing his shorts and sliding them down the length of his long legs.
When she was finished she hooked her leg back over his waist and
looked down at him as she sat mounted there -- his hazel eyes
squinting against the sun, his dark sweaty hair close against his scalp,
and his obscenely sexy lips fuller than usual, bruised by her kisses.
She rubbed herself along the length of his cock, razing her clit with it,
and his hips rose of their own volition. "You want this long and slow,
or hard and fast?" she asked conversationally, hovering over him,
her hair partially obscuring her view.

"Long and slow," he said without hesitation. His hands rested on her
hips, tracing the curve of them, and she suppressed a shiver. "Take
your time. I want to watch you for as long as possible."

She thought of pointing out that the length of time this would take was more
dependent on him than on her, but figured some things were better left unsaid.
Instead she gently grasped his cock and guided it inside of her, settling
herself down on him, taking her time about it, letting gravity do the bulk of
the work. When he filled her completely she let out a satisfied sigh and
ran her hands up and down his chest. "Feels nice," she said needlessly.

"I should hope so," he said in a strangled voice.

She could sense that it was taking all of his will power not to start thrusting
up madly into her, and had to appreciate his restraint. She lifted herself up
a few inches, then slid slowly back down on him, and was gratified by his
low groan. Oh yes, long and slow was just what the doctor ordered...
She plunged up and down on him again, and this time he reached up to
cup her breasts, but he didn't knead them; just ran his thumbs over them with
a feathery touch. She covered his hands with her own and began to set a
slow but steady rhythm atop of him, fancying that it was in time to the gentle
lapping of the water against the dock. His breathing grew quicker, louder,
at odds with their peaceful surroundings, which in a strange way only made
it that much more arousing.

"Is this good?" she whispered.

"Perfect," he said, then let out a small moan as she undulated again.
"Yeah, that's perfect, keep going just like that..." As promised, his eyes
never left her, her face, her body, taking her in with an intensity that
unnerved and turned her on all the same time.

"You like what you see?" she couldn't help but tease.

He nodded. "You're so beautiful, Scully. So unbelievably fucking
beautiful." He reached up to touch her face to emphasize the statement.

She smiled brightly at him, taken aback by his fervor, and leaned over
to give him a quick thank-you kiss before speeding up her movements,
just a touch, just enough to make him gasp her name and jerk up beneath
her. His hands were all over her now, her breasts, her hips, her back,
her behind, touching her everywhere he could reach, his touch like fire against
her warmed, now slick skin. The sun continued to beat down on her and
in the back of her mind she hoped she wasn't sweating off all of the sunblock
she had so assiduously applied. But then another wave of pleasure took
hold of her and she surrendered to pure sensation. Fuck the sunblock.

They were both moaning and grunting by this point, straining with the
effort of their lovemaking, but neither of them made a move toward
increasing the pace much more than they had already. Scully continued
to ride him leisurely, occasionally pulling her hair up off of her neck and
letting the mild breeze dry the sweat there. When Mulder pulled her down
to him to take a nipple into his mouth, she only allowed him to suckle
there briefly before rising back up.

"You keep that up and...I won't last much longer," she panted.

"I'm not sure I can last too much longer anyway," he bit out. "You feel
so good, Scully, I can't stand it..."

She adjusted her body, trying to take him in even deeper, and he
groaned loudly. "How good do I feel, Mulder?"

"There aren't enough words in the dictionary...God!"

She grinned and upped the tempo again, finally, feeling a rising
urge toward completion building low in her abdomen, and he responded
in kind, matching his movements with hers, his breathing growing
more labored by the second, sweat coating his body as well. They
were both consumed by it now, panting, moaning, touching each
other all over, moving up and down at an increasingly driven pace, and
when the sound of a speedboat cut through the silence they didn't even
pause, didn't reduce their joining together again and again and again.

Apparently deciding he'd had about as much as he could take, Mulder
moved his hand down to her clit and began stroking her purposefully,
encouraging her to come with a steady stream of quiet exhortations
that made him sound like some sort of x-rated auctioneer. "Come Scully
come come come for me Scully let me watch you Scully come on..."
Scully closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of his cock inside her, of
his fingers stroking her, of the sun beating against her back, the breeze
caressing her skin, until finally

"Yes oh god Mulder Mulder Mulder god --"

and just as her body ceased its shaking and her limbs turned to rubber
and she wondered if she would have the strength to keep rocking atop
of him, he groaned long and low and deep and gushed into her, the hot
stream of it bathing her insides and trickling down her thighs.

They stayed where they were for a moment, speechless, until Scully
gently disengaged from him and tumbled down beside him, the wood of
the dock banging against her shoulder. "Ouch," she muttered.

"You okay?" he asked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She sidled up against him, throwing one arm over his
abdomen, and kissed his warm skin with multiple tiny kisses up and
down the length of his chest.

"That was pretty fantastic," he said, squeezing her possessively.

"Mmm. Were you watching me the whole time?" she asked.

"I said I would. Best show in town."

"Yeah, it's a little known fact that I turned down a lucrative career in the
porn industry to become a medical doctor."

He traced elaborate patterns on her lower back with his fingertips,
occasionally straying down to the soft flesh of her behind. "Well, if you
ever decide to reconsider, I bet you could make the big bucks. I know
what I'm talking about."

"I'll take that under advisement, seeing as how you're an expert in the
field." She yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Tired?"

"I did just get a workout," she pointed out defensively. And drank a
bottle of wine this afternoon, but that's another story...

"Maybe a swim will wake you up?"

She raised herself up on one elbow to look down at him. "We do have
to get washed off anyway," he continued, cajoling her. Or bending
her to his will, depending on how you looked at it.

But he did have a point, although the questionable waters of the lake
weren't exactly what she'd had in mind as a post-sex cleanup. And
her sunblock was waterproof, or so the label claimed...before she
could change her mind she hopped up and bolted to the edge of the
deck, then dove off the side. Anything to keep him on his toes.

The cold water was bracing but invigorating, and she let out an energized
whoop, seconds before Mulder barreled into the water next to her, splashing
her with a tidal wave and getting water up her nose. "Jesus, Mulder!" she
yelled, the sound of her voice seeming to bounce off the very surface of
the lake and knocking around in the still air until it finally dissipated. Maybe
they really were alone in the world. Then she remembered the speedboat
she'd heard while they were having sex, and reconsidered. They must've
gotten a hell of a show, she thought ruefully. Porn star indeed.

Mulder resurfaced and slicked his hair back off his forehead, grinning like a
little kid. "Sorry," he said in a tone of voice that indicated he was anything
but.

She splashed him half-heartedly and gave him a dirty look. "Jerk."

The two of them swam around for a while, enjoying the whole skinny
dipping conceit, Scully doing the crab and Mulder freestyling it, until
they rendezvoused some distance from shore, coming together in an
embrace, wrapping their arms around each other firmly. Mulder kissed
the tip of her nose. "Awake yet?"

She nodded and nibbled on his earlobe in answer. He moaned softly and
squeezed her tighter, digging his fingers into her skin. "Keep that up and
we're going to have to go for round two," he warned.

Promises, promises...was it possible to give someone a blowjob underwater?
It would only be until she ran out of air, obviously, but...in the interest of
scientific research she pulled out of his embrace and submerged, grateful
that the lake was clear enough to be able to see in the water. She found
her target immediately and took him into her mouth, holding on to his ass
for support as she ran her tongue up and down the length of him vigorously,
careful not to actually suck -- no point in taking in lake water -- until
she thought her lungs would burst. She broke the surface of the lake with
a gasp, fighting for air, but Mulder cut her off almost immediately, ramming
his tongue down her throat and burying his fingers in her hair, devouring
her with an urgency that ran counterpoint to their previous recreation.
They kissed long and hard, pressed up against each other, hands
conducting erotic explorations, until by unspoken agreement they
broke apart and headed for shore.

This time they ran straight into the house, leaving their clothes out on
the dock, not stopping until they reached the air-conditioned, Laura
Ashley-fied bedroom. The second Scully lay down on the four-poster
bed Mulder pounced on her, spreading her legs and assaulting her
with his tongue and teeth until she was gyrating against him, pulling
on his hair, squeezing his head with her thighs. He reached underneath
her to cup her ass, pulling him closer to her, sucking on her with such
abandon that she had a feeling she'd be raw come morning. Not that
she cared at the moment. She cried out his name and bucked beneath
him, driven half-mad by the sensation of her clit being teased by his
tongue, and when a shattering orgasm overtook her she could almost
believe that they really were the last two people on earth, crying out
defiant pleasure into the silence.

End.