...Where It Hurts (Sequel to "She Loves Me Not") (3/3)
by Jo-Ann Lassiter
Email Address: jolassi555@cs.com 
Spoiler Warning:  None
Rating: PG-13 
Classification: S, A
Key Words: Mulder/Scully Romance
Summary: Scully has told Mulder that she loves him. Yet, when her
actions contradict her words, doubts are raised in Mulder's mind.
Author's Notes: There is the bare bones of an X-File here... just
enough to advance the *real* story, which is the romance between
M&S. Please don't look for any lengthy explanations of the
"monster" because there won't be any. What there will be, however,
is lots and lots of characterization. I hope you enjoy it!
Thanks: To Martha and Rachel for their help, and especially to
Gerry for putting up with numerous read-throughs and not
complaining (much).

Rental car
6:00 p.m.

Mulder was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, shivering,
waiting for Scully to come out of the pharmacy, when his cel phone
chirped.

"Yeah, Mulder," he rasped, cursing Denver's damned mile-high
altitude that was robbing him of his voice again.

"Agent Mulder? Is that you?" Jonas's voice came over.

"Yeah, it's me." He tried to sound better than he felt. "What's
up?"

"We got him!" 

"What?" Mulder sat up straighter in his seat. "When? How?"

"From the list we came up with yesterday. They staked out the
individuals you identified as 'most likely,' and the guy showed at
one of them."

"Guy? It was a man?" Could he have been so far off the mark? 

The line went silent, and Mulder wondered if they'd been
disconnected. 

"Jonas?"

"You were right about that, too," the young agent finally said.
"What they caught is no man. Nor animal." Mulder heard a voice in
the background, just barely clear enough to hear. "Tell him to get
down here ASAP."

"Agent Mulder, they want--"

"I heard." He honked the horn for Scully. "Where?"

"Police headquarters. You know where it is?"

Mulder didn't, so Jonas gave him directions. "Okay, got it. Where's
the perp now? What's its condition?"

"It's in a cell, unconscious. They tranquilized him at the scene."
Jonas gave a bitter laugh. "Even though they followed your profile
of the victims, they still proceeded under the assumption that they
were dealing with an animal."

Mulder shook his head at their 'logic.' "Well, in this case, I'd
say it was fortunate. Brad, under no circumstance should they let
that thing regain consciousness. Do you understand?"

"I'll try." The young agent sounded uncertain.

"Brad, if that thing wakes up and finds itself trapped, it'll go
berserk. And it'll take everyone in that station with it. Now, I
don't care what you have to do, but keep it sedated!"

"I will."

"Good man. Okay, I've got to get Scully. I'll see you in a few
minutes." Mulder clicked off and called Scully's cel.

She answered on the third ring. "Scully."

"They caught it, Scully. We've gotta go."

"I'm at checkout now. I'll be there in two." She clicked off, and
a minute and a half later, she was trotting toward the car. Handing
the bag to Mulder, she buckled in and started the car. She looked
over at him. "Where to?"

"Police HQ." He rattled off the directions, and she drove off.

As they neared their destination, Mulder's cold began to reassert
itself. "Oh, give me a break, will you?" he moaned, searching
through Scully's purchases. Pulling out a box of aloe-coated
tissues, he smiled at his partner. "Bless you, Sc... Ah-choo!
...Scully."

They stopped at a red light. "Right back at you, G-Man." 

His nose was running, his eyes were watering, yet she was looking
at him like he was the most desirable man on the face of the
planet. If he didn't believe that she loved him, he was the biggest
fool in history.

Ripping the lid off the box, he quickly blew his nose, hardly
feeling the raw, burning pain anymore. When he met her gaze, he
held nothing back in his. All he was, all he felt for her, he let
shine in his eyes.

Right back at *you,* G-Woman.

*****

Police Headquarters
6:22 p.m.

Mulder wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Once he'd
begun sneezing, he'd found that he couldn't stop. Not only was his
nose sore, his head pounding, and his throat raw, he was as
embarrassed as hell. It was one thing to sneeze a thousand times in
solitude--quite another to put on a performance for the woman he
loved.

At every stop sign and every red light, she'd gaze at him
sympathetically or ask if he was all right. He'd long ago given up
responding to her queries.

Now, as the car came to a halt, he felt her hand on his back.
"We're here," she said softly.

Unable to speak, he nodded his head and sneezed.

"Do you want to wait here?" she asked.

He shook his head and tried to clear his throat without its feeling
like he'd swallowed a razor blade. "N... Ah-choo! No." Tucking the
half-empty box of tissues under his arm, he opened the door and
stepped out. Surprisingly enough, the rain and the chill in the air
cleared away the horrid tickle that had plagued him the entire
ride. He blew his nose and gulped in the fresh air. 

When  he recovered enough to wonder why he wasn't getting wet, he
looked up to find Scully holding an umbrella over his head. She was
standing in the downpour.

He pulled her under with him, but she tried to push away. "I'm
getting you all wet," she protested.

He stepped back a couple of inches. "I don't want you to get sick,
too, Scully. Stay under the umbrella, okay?" Taking the umbrella
from her outstretched arm, he held it over both of them.

She rubbed his arm with her hand. "Okay." Her hand drifted up to
his face. "Oh, Mulder, your poor nose."

He didn't need a mirror to know how red it was, or a psychic to
tell him that as soon as they stepped into the light of the police
station, all eyes would zero in on his nose like a homing beacon.
"Attractive, isn't it?"

She tugged at his coat sleeve. "Come on. Let's get inside." 

He heard the quiver in her voice and nodded, then slid an arm
around her shoulders, bringing her in closer. "It's a small
umbrella." Smiling, he dared her to argue against that logic. 

As they walked slowly to the entrance, Scully's desire to make a
run for the door was almost a palpable thing; Mulder appreciated
the effort she was making to keep them to a snail's pace. Despite
his assurances to the contrary, he wasn't feeling all that chipper.


Upon entering the station, Mulder was relieved to note that nothing
seemed out of the ordinary. He was closing the umbrella when a deep
voice asked, "Help you folks?"

While Mulder fumbled for his badge with half-frozen fingers, Scully
produced hers. "Agents Scully and Mulder. FBI."

The desk sergeant's demeanor immediately became more respectful.
"Oh, yes, ma'am. They're expecting you." He beckoned to a young
policeman. "Officer Trainor will take you down."

She nodded to the man, and they fell into step behind their guide.
'Down,' thankfully, consisted of two corridors and one locked door,
to which Trainor had the key. The officer turned the key and pushed
open the door. "Thanks," Mulder said, stepping inside, scanning the
cells, anxious for a look at their demon.

"Agent Mulder! Down here," a familiar voice called from the very
end of the room. Glancing at Scully, ignoring her warning to take
it easy, Mulder jogged past the other twenty cells. 

His breath caught in his throat at what was lying in shadow on the
cot. Then his heart started beating excitedly when he realized that
the overhead light was shining directly onto the demon, with no
obstructions between it and the thing on the bed. Christ! No wonder
it had been near impossible to catch. This demon *was* shadow.

When he was finally able to tear his eyes away, he sought out
Scully. She was standing beside him, transfixed much the same as he
had been. Her gaze broke away and fastened on him. 

"What is it?" she asked, in a not-quite-steady voice.

Reaching into his suit coat pocket, he withdrew the fax from
earlier. He scanned the assembled faces; besides Lowther, Hartigan,
Jonas and two police officers, Perkins was there, looking quite
recovered. Mulder nodded to him, and he returned the gesture. "It's
called a 'Daran,'" he said, addressing himself to the group. "I was
able to establish a correlation among the victims." He gave a
rueful smile, knowing how the next information would sound; it was
also one of the reasons he hadn't included it in his preliminary
report. "It seems our victims had attended a science fiction
convention here in town, and a group of them decided to do a little
dabbling in the black arts."

"What?" Lowther spat out from his position next to Perkins, as far
away from Mulder as he could get. "You're telling me that a bunch
of geeks dressed up like Dr. Spock are responsible for this?" He
indicated the unconscious demon.

Mulder was tempted to tell Lowther that even geeks knew a baby
doctor from a green-blooded half-alien, and thus would only dress
up as *Mister,* not *Doctor* Spock; he sighed instead. "I can't say
who they were dressed like but, basically, yes, that's what
happened."

"Then you're as flaky as them, Mulder. There's no way they could
have--" 

"Then where do *you* think this came from?" Mulder asked.

"From a costume shop. Maybe it's another one of those 'Trekkies.'
How the hell should I know?"

"Let's listen to Agent Mulder's explanation, shall we?" Perkins'
voice was soft, but his gaze was hard; Lowther shut up. The ASAC
turned to Mulder. "Go on."

"I was able to contact some of the people on our list..." Mulder
nodded to Jonas. "...the one you used to catch the demon with. One
of them remembered the book the spell came from. I was able to find
an occult store which carried a copy, and I had them fax me the
spell--the entire spell." He looked at Perkins. "I can send him
back."

"Wait a minute. This thing's responsible for the deaths of five
people. You can't just 'send it back,'" Lowther protested. "It's
got to stand trial."

Mulder couldn't believe his ears. "You want to put a demon on
trial? A being from another dimension with powers we can't even
begin to imagine? For Christ's sake, *look at it.* Nothing like
this exists in nature. Do you actually think you can contain *a
demon?*"

Lowther waved at the form lying on the cot. "We're containing it
now," he said, smugly.

"Because it's unconscious. I'm surprised it's out at all." Mulder
shook his head in amazement. 

Lowther snorted. "It ought to be, with six tranquilizer darts in
it."

Mulder gaped, then nodded; he considered it lucky that the team had
carried that many with them. After all, they were going on the
assumption that it was a large cat or a rabid dog they were after. 

"Look, we don't want to be around when this thing wakes up." He
appealed to Perkins. "We have to send it back *now.* You saw what
happened to the victims when they couldn't send it back."

"It's in a cell. In cuffs," Hartigan pointed out.

Mulder was starting to get frustrated. "I'm telling you: We don't
want to be around when it wakes up."

"Mulder..." Scully said in a hushed voice.

Mulder felt a chill run down his spine at the tone of her voice. He
turned toward the cell.

It was awake.

*****

Police Headquarters
6:39 p.m.

"Nobody move! Stand perfectly still." Mulder walked slowly toward
the iron bars, ignoring all occupants except for the one in the
cell.

The demon was watching him warily. Suddenly, in one fluid motion,
it rose, its arm extending out toward Mulder. The still-locked
handcuffs clanked to the floor. "You."

Mulder shuddered; it felt as though the room temperature had
plummeted 20 degrees in the two seconds since he and the creature
had made eye contact. 

"You. Know." Its voice made the warm blood in his veins turn to ice
water.

Mulder nodded; it was a struggle just to speak as he kept getting
colder and colder. "Y-yes. I know how to send you back."

"You. Did not. Bring me." Christ almighty! The thing was absorbing
his body heat!

"No." He broke out of the demon's gaze, gesturing to the others;
with relief, he noted that as quickly as he'd gotten chilled, now
that he was no longer looking at the demon, he was warming up. "No
one here brought you."

"Return me. Now." 

Mulder nodded. Still avoiding the creature's gaze, he shook out the
paper containing the counter-spell. Somewhere in the back of his
mind, as he read from the fax, he noted that Lowther's protests had
died away. Along with Mulder's voice. He rasped out the last few
words, the lights blinked off, and when they blinked back on, the
creature was gone.

"Holy shit," Hartigan whispered.

Indeed, Mulder thought, staring at the empty cell. He let out a
shaky breath.

"Aw, fuck," Lowther remarked. "What the hell are we supposed to say
happened to it? What the hell are we supposed to say 'it' was?"

From the tone of his voice, Mulder deduced that these questions
were aimed at him. He turned around to face the agent. 

Lowther's eyebrows shot up through his forehead.

"What the hell happened to your nose?"

*****

Denver Field Office
ASAC Perkins' Office
9:27 p.m.

While Scully helped the agents concoct a plausible story, Mulder
sat in a corner being miserable. His voice was totally gone,
anyway, even in the event that his congested brain would permit him
to formulate a coherent sentence. How did he come to end up in a
cold office, on an uncomfortable chair, sneezing his head off, when
he could be back at the B&B lying in a soft, warm bed, doped to the
gills on green stuff?

He wished Scully had put up more of a fight.

Scully had, bless her, had the foresight to purchase not one, but
two, boxes of tissues; alas, he was down to the last three in the
second box. "Huh-choo!" The last two.

Mulder looked up for the first time in twenty minutes. Everyone was
huddled around Perkins' desk, deep in discussion, the circle of
their chairs effectively blocking him out. "Huh-choo!" One. He
hoped Perkins still had that box he spoke of earlier.

Dragging himself upright, he started to scan the room, then thought
he'd wait until everything became stationary again; as he stood
there swaying, he actually felt the color leeching from his face.
A pair of hands gripped his arms, and when he looked up and found
himself eyeball-to-eyeball with Gene Lowther, he felt his heart
speed up.

"Take it easy, Mulder," the man said so comfortingly that Mulder
had to wonder if he hadn't been transported back to that other
dimension with the demon. Mulder could only stare in awe. "What do
you need?" the other man asked. "I'll get it for you."

"Ti..." Mulder felt another sneeze coming. He shook his head,
trying to get away. "Lowth... Let... I have to..." He ripped
himself out of the big man's grip. "Huh-choo!" After he used the
last tissue, he held up the empty box. "Tissues," he rasped. "The
ASAC has a box..."

Lowther nodded, then when the big man settled him back into the
chair before heading off,  Mulder was sure he'd entered the
Twilight Zone.

A few seconds later, a full box of tissues was placed on his lap.
When he looked up to thank Lowther, he was surprised to find his
partner instead. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

He regarded her through bleary eyes. "If I answer honestly, you're
going to wish you never asked me." He sniffled, then took out a
tissue and blew his nose. 

"We're just about done," she said gently. "Can you wait a few more
minutes?"

It was exactly what she'd said an hour ago. "Sure," he said. "But
we have to be out of here by the twenty-tissue warning."

She laughed and patted his head. "I promise." Then she was back in
her chair, and he was forgotten once again. 

He hugged the tissue box to him; it was the only thing in the
entire room offering him any comfort. Opening his mouth to sneeze,
he felt the sensation fade away, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe now he could become an active participant in the conference,
if only from a distance.

Setting the box on the floor, he leaned forward, trying to catch
snatches of conversation, but while their mouths were moving, no
sound was reaching him. Great, he thought. Now he was mute *and*
deaf. His ears were plugged up from blowing his nose so much.
Sighing, he sat back in the chair--and was wracked with a shudder.

Damn, why hadn't he noticed how fucking freezing it was in there?
He eyed his coat on the coat rack all the way across the room.
Should he risk it? There was every possibility that his balance was
off; just sitting down, he was feeling light-headed. He could
embarrass himself by landing face-first on the floor, or he could
ask for help.

"Hey, Scully?" Nothing came out except a harsh whisper. He tried
again. "Scully!" The sound of rustling leaves. This was getting
ridiculous. He clapped his hands. Five heads swiveled in his
direction. 

"Did you need something, Agent Mulder?" Perkins asked.

"My coat," he rasped. "Could someone--"

'I'll get it." Jonas walked quickly to the coat rack and unhooked
Mulder's nice, long, warm winter coat. Bringing it over to him, the
agent handed it to him, a curious expression on his face. "Are you
leaving?"

He shook his head--one short, choppy motion--and spread it over
himself like a blanket. "Cold," he whispered.

Jonas's face softened, and he nodded. Without saying a word, he
tucked the coat more securely over Mulder's shoulders. 

"Thanks, Brad," Mulder's voice grated out. 

The agent's face was a mask of sympathy. "We'll be done in a few
minutes."

Mulder closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them and regarded
the young man. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I know."

Jonas smiled uncertainly and returned to the assemblage. Mulder's
eyes followed him halfway before they drooped closed. God, he
really needed to sleep; maybe when he woke it would be time to
leave.

He had just about drifted off when he felt a hand on his cheek.
Smiling to himself, he whispered, "Scully."

"Come on, Mulder," she said, softly. "Let's get you out of here."

"What time is it?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Time for me to get you into bed."

His eyes fluttered open. She was gazing at him, a smile on her
face, eyes full of love, and a promise on her lips, so he knew he
must really be sick when all he could think about doing in bed with
Scully was sleeping. He noted the still-occupied room and groaned.
"It didn't work. It was *supposed* to work," he whined.

"What was?" she asked. 

"Falling asleep." At her confusion, he elaborated. "No sense of
time passing. I go to sleep, I wake up, and it's time to go. Poof.
No more waiting." He glanced at the faces behind her. "But they're
still here. You're still here, and I'm still here." He looked up at
her imploringly. "I don't want to be here anymore, Scully."

Her face crumpled in sorrow. "Oh, Mulder, I'm sorry, but you're the
one who insisted on coming."

He nodded slowly. "I know, but right now all I want to do is get
out of here and go to bed."

"That's just where I'm taking you," she said, smiling gently.

He squinted, trying to focus on her face. "Did you already tell me
that, or was it wishful thinking on my part?"

She helped him to his feet, holding his coat so he could slide his
arms into the sleeves. "A little of both, I think. Here, let me do
that," she said removing his uncooperative fingers from where they
were finding it impossible to accomplish the simple act of bringing
button to button-hole.

He let his hands fall to his sides as she buttoned him up. "I feel
like I'm in second grade," he mumbled.

Immediately, she stopped. "I'm sorry. I didn't--"

"I liked second grade," he said quietly, laying his hands over
hers. 

She looked up at him then and gave him a smile which did so much
more for making him feel warm than any material ever could.
Finishing with his coat, she tugged at it gently. "Come on, little
boy. Time for you to go to bed."

His smile a little fragile, he followed her out to a chorus of,
"Hope you feel better," "Take care of that cold," "Get some sleep,
Mulder," and "Good night. Take it easy."

Still a little taken aback by their concern, especially the change
of hearts for Lowther and Hartigan, Mulder rasped a puzzled,
"Thanks," and waved weakly. Once they were on the other side of the
door, he asked, "What's going on, Scully?"

Her look of bewilderment gradually changed to enlightenment. "Andy
had a little chat with them on the way over here."

Mulder felt himself blushing, imagining what Perkins could have
said for Lowther and Hartigan to be acting so friendly toward
someone they had tried very hard to pulverize only a few hours ago.
"Oh," he finally said,

Scully pressed the 'down' button on the elevator, then gazed up at
him; he blinked in confusion at the open admiration in her eyes.
"You do damned good work, Mulder," she said softly.

The elevator came, and they got on. "It was a team thing, Scully,"
he said. "I came up with the list, but Jonas took the initiative
and got them going on the stakeouts."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "It wasn't your idea?"

Mulder sighed. "Let's just say they weren't very receptive to it at
the time, and I wasn't feeling too argumentative." He shrugged. "I
guess Jonas was."

The elevator stopped, and the agents stepped out into the heated
garage. Mulder didn't argue when Scully pointed at a bench and told
him, "Sit." Lowering himself onto it wearily, he had to stop
himself from stretching over its entire length; if he laid down, he
might not be getting up.

He distracted himself by watching his partner's shapely derriere.
For so long he'd yearned to run his hands over every inch of her
curvaceous bottom, and now that the moment was at hand, his only
thought was how quickly could she move that classy ass to the car? 

He let his eyes drift shut. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd be in the mood.

A horn's loud honk caused him to jerk awake, gasping and blinking,
wondering what the hell happened to the car he was riding in.
Finally getting his bearings when Scully waved from the car that
she had pulled to a stop in front of him, Mulder pushed himself to
his feet and staggered over. Yanking the handle, he opened the door
and gratefully settled in. "Oh, man, I could sleep for a week."

"Do you want to stay an extra day, Mulder?" Scully asked. "I was
going to book us a flight for tomorrow, but if you'd rather take
another day..."

Another day sounded heavenly. Mulder tried to remember if Scully
had any plans that he'd be spoiling by keeping them over the
weekend. He recalled something about Sunday and her mother, but he
wasn't sure if it was some big family event or something informal
and up-in-the-air. "Uh, no," he answered. Better to be safe than
sorry. "Tomorrow's fine. I just need a little sleep, and I'll be
good to go."

When Scully's demeanor brightened, he knew he'd made the right
choice.

He just hoped he'd be able to live up to his part of the bargain.

*****
Twin Forks Lodge
Aurora, Colorado
Sunday
5:12 a.m.

When he woke it was still raining. The curtains were closed but he
could hear the pounding the thin window glass was taking. Throwing
off the blanket, he stood, grateful that Scully was asleep and
unable to bear witness to the giant economy-sized hard-on he was
sporting. He didn't know what he'd been dreaming about, but it must
have been a doozy for him to wake up looking like this.

Scratching his bare chest, he made his way to the window, hitching
up his boxers from where they'd slipped down a little, wincing as
the lightweight material grazed his cock. He moved the curtain
aside so he could see out, mildly surprised to find that it was
still night; he yawned and stretched, then let the curtain fall
shut again.

Returning to the bed, he smiled at the sight of a T-shirt and
panties-clad Scully sprawled across the spot in which he'd been
sleeping. "Missed me, did you?" he whispered, sliding in under her
arms. 

"Mmm... yeah," she said, and he jumped, thoroughly convinced she'd
been asleep.

As her arms coiled around him possessively, he was thrilled to find
that sleeping was not the first thought that came to mind. As a
matter of fact, sleeping didn't come to mind at all.

"Ooh, Mulder." Scully tightened her hold on him. "You're feeling
better." She gave him a sultry smile, latched a hand onto his cock
and squeezed. "You're feeling much better."

Ohhhh, yeah. He sure as hell was. That little pleasure sensation
that centered in his groin quickly spread until he felt like his
entire body was going to come. "Jesus, Scully," he gasped.

"Like that, do you?" she purred--and squeezed again.

"Ohh, God..." Mulder broke out of her hold, flopped onto his back,
closed his eyes and melted into the mattress.

Warm breath teased his face. Opening his eyes, he found his partner
nose-to-nose. "Like that a little *too* much, do you?"

Christ, she wasn't even touching him and he felt like he was going
to explode. "Scully, you're about to make me embarrass myself," he
rasped.

"Really?" she asked, and then he knew what an evil being he was
partnered with when she slid her hand into his boxers, trapping his
cock beneath it, flexing her fingers and kneading his flesh.

He lurched up onto his feet, in his haste nearly separating her arm
from its socket.

"Ouch! Jesus, Mulder, what the hell are you doing?" She was glaring
at him, massaging her upper arm.

He ignored her for a few moments, regaining some of his poise, then
he looked at her accusingly. "You almost made me come."

She directed a skeptical eyebrow toward him. "Mulder, we haven't
even done anything yet."

"No kidding," he panted, still having trouble convincing his
recalcitrant member to behave.

"So, c'mon." She reached out a hand for him, and he jumped back out
of reach. Her mouth dropped open, and he felt more embarrassed than
he'd ever felt in his life. Christ, even as a teen he hadn't been
this squirrely. What the hell was his problem?

"Can you give me a minute?" he asked, addressing his question to
the floor.

"Of course," she replied, and when he heard no derision in her tone
he looked up. The sight of his partner in his bed on hands and
knees, scantily clad, hair wild, brought it all back to him.

He smiled nervously. "I was... I must have been... I was having
this dream and..." Heat spread from his face down to his toes as he
remembered how close he'd been.

"Of me?" Her voice was low and husky and so goddamned sexy that he
wondered if it was possible to come just from hearing her talk. And
as he concentrated on that occurrence *not* happening, he knew it
was; he became a little peeved at her for taunting him like that.

"No, of Queen Elizabeth. I really get off on thoughts of her with
a riding crop." He frowned. "Of course, of you. For no other woman
would I look this ridiculous." He spread his arms and looked down
at the erection tenting his shorts.

Scully followed his gaze, then her eyes roamed over the rest of his
body. She smiled at him. "I love it when you're like this."

He squinted. "Horny? Excited? Embarrassed? On the edge?"

She breathed in and then breathed out a, "Yeah." She slithered off
the bed and sidled up to him. "I want to make you lose control. I
want to push you over that edge, Mulder."

He gritted his teeth as she rubbed herself against him like a cat
petting itself. "Don't," he pleaded. "Not the first time." His
knees were just starting to buckle when she ceased.

Her hands caressed his face. "Why, Mulder! You romantic devil,
you."

His mind was functioning just enough to eke out a smile.

She let her fingers travel down his arms until she reached his
hands. "Speechless, are you?" Dropping one hand, she took hold of
the other and tugged him back to the bed. When he balked, she gave
him a gentle smile. "Not until you're ready. I promise."

He stopped resisting and let her lead him back. When she sat down
instead of climbing in, Mulder was relieved; he lowered himself
beside her very carefully. "I feel pretty stupid," he said.

"Mulder?"

He turned his head to look at her. Her gaze was that of a starving
man eyeing a T-bone steak.

"I'm having one hell of a time keeping my hands off you," she said.
Her eyes were boring into his. "I do not lust after stupid men."

Whoa. Lust? The words 'lust' and 'Scully' had come up in the same
sentence before, but certainly not in that context. Scully was
lusting? For him?

If his penis could detach from his body, it would be doing
cocksprings. As it was, he was kind of glad the little (well, not
at the moment) guy wouldn't be going anywhere without him. Scully
had plans for it, and while Mulder could only guess at what those
plans entailed--just thinking about it in his condition was
downright dangerous--he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

"Scully?" His voice was shaking.

"Yeah?" Hers was breathy.

"Do with me what you will."

*****

On the Road
Sunday
12:16 a.m.

Mulder sat hunched in the passenger seat of the rental car, wanting
desperately to, but deathly afraid of glancing at, his partner.
Those pixies who'd come during the night to turn on (how apropros)
his 'horny' gene had neglected to install an 'off' valve, and now
any time she looked at him sideways, that heretofore undernourished
tyke between his legs threatened to experience a growth spurt of
epic proportions.

Christ, you'd think after the morning they'd had that sex would be
the furthest thing from his mind. Really. He was exhausted. Totally
and thoroughly wiped. 

With one exception. 

He'd heard that you couldn't keep a good man down, but geez... 

A long, drawn-out and whole-heartedly seductive sigh from the seat
beside him titillated his ears, and he shuddered. Daring a glimpse
her way, he froze when he found her eyes upon him, lapping him all
over. Her tongue flicked out, moistening her lips, and he swore he
could feel the rough/silk texture over every piece of skin her gaze
swept.

The car behind them honked its horn, signaling that the light had
changed, and Scully abruptly broke off, giving the car the gas. The
damage, however, had been done. Trying not to groan, Mulder folded
in over himself, devoting his full attention to the passing
scenery, wishing something more interesting than brown, flat land
would appear to capture his interest--and divert his mind from
where it inevitably kept straying.

It was all her fault. If she hadn't been so... Oh, God. So
satisfying, so fulfilling, so thrilling, so damned *good*... 
Jesus. He really had to get those thoughts out of his head, or he
wouldn't feel safe unless he spent the entire plane ride in the
toilet.

"Mulder?"

His head nearly hit the roof when he vaulted up out of his seat. He
heard her trying--not very successfully--to hide her snicker.

"A little jumpy?"

Glaring at her, he deigned not to answer. 

Her mouth curled into a smile; she tilted her head toward his lap.
"You have a little problem there."

He shuddered, remembering the way she was just looking at him.
"Gee, I wonder why?"

"Um, look. We're almost at the airport. There's a McDonald's coming
up about a mile down the road. Do you think you might have to...
um..." She had the good grace to blush. "...use the men's room?"

Jesus, was nothing sacred? He hid his face in his hand and nodded. 

"We have forty minutes till our flight. Think you can be done in
five?"

Another nod. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair that men should
have to go through this embarrassment. A woman could become aroused
and no one would be the wiser, yet let one stray inappropriate
thought enter a man's mind, and the monster awakens, the creature
stirs, the beast arises.

Of course, he had to admit that he'd had a tad more than one
inappropriate thought during this ride. Damn his eidetic memory.

He may have had... ideas... of Scully before this morning, but they
were just that: ideas. Now that he'd experienced the real thing... 

Fuck. 

Did they sell chastity belts for men?

The End