Return to the Cabin by qIra JulIyan

Return to the Cabin by qIra

SLEAZE ALERT! This story contains explicit scenes of a sexual nature.

Return to the Cabin by qIra

Continued from Cabin Fever or "How I Ruined One Man's Vacation"

Spring thaw was finished and the Sierra Mountains of California stood high and hot around Brette's cabin. Seven months had passed since her brief time with that quiet FBI agent during November's blizzard. The snow was gone and the smell of new life filled the air. Brette's latest novel was in New York receiving the editorial treatment, and there was nothing to do today except sift through ideas for the next one.

She and her dog Khan wandered along the trails toward the creek out back. Steller's Jays squawked and shook the branches above, blue and black shadows on high. Warm summer lay ahead and forest life was in full swing.

Her wandering mind, however, dwelled in the past. Special Agent Fox Mulder. Very Special Agent. His touch had made her feel flames she'd never known possible. All during the past months he'd not left her thoughts for long, especially at night when she tried to remember how he'd felt next to her in bed. During those times she conjured his scent in her memory and the taste of him returned to her.

The creek was a wide one and she headed for its widest spot. This morning the sun glittered on the smooth-flowing water where it leveled off between two short runs of rapids. Blue dragonflies swooped over the water, making dimples in its surface. Brette stepped out onto the flat rock at the downstream end of the pool. Green eddies swirled behind it and a few plump trout loitered below.

The sun was strong here. Having stepped from the shade of the huge redwoods, Brette flexed her arms and raised her face to feel the fresh warmth. The winter had been hard. The snows had receded late and diesel fuel for the generators had run out a week before the road was clear. Fireplace heat and lantern light was bad enough, but the worst of it had been no computer.

No, really the worst was no Mulder to share the fire.

Khan ran along the bank, sniffing the water, then wandered off down the trail. Brette sat on the rock and the heat rising from it made her let the flannel shirt she wore slip from her shoulders. The tank top underneath hung large on her frame and a slight breeze lifted and sneaked under the arm holes.

"You look like a mermaid swimming, the way your hair floats in the breeze. The little strands, I mean."

Mulder! Goosebumps rose and she knew she must be dreaming. Squinting into the shadows, she shaded her eyes and tried to see what was there. "Mulder?"

The voice came again. "I needed another break. I hope you don't mind me coming." He stepped into the light. Dressed in jeans and a windbreaker, he gave her a chipmunk smile.

Brette could barely breathe. "Mulder." She went to him and touched his face. The long, lonely months lifted from her heart and it soared. Deep in his eyes she could see he'd been just as lonely. He kissed her and the taste of him flooded her. Her hands rested at his waist. She wanted to unbuckle him and make love to him right there on the bank, but didn't. First she needed to know what he was thinking.

"You came all this way just to see me?"

"I need you, Brette. It hurts. A lot." He kissed her neck and her knees went wobbly. Through the thin cotton of her tank top he felt her nipples which were already in knots for him.

It was unbearable. Nothing mattered except bringing him inside her. Without another word, she pulled his shirt from his jeans. The windbreaker slipped to the ground and she flipped open buttons on his denim shirt.

A moan rumbled in his throat as he kissed her, and she could feel the pain of his longing. They sank to the grassy bank and old, dead leaves crunched beneath. The shirt slipped from his shoulders and hung from his elbows. Brette ran a hand over the smooth muscles, then the sparse hair on his chest.

His mouth covered hers and his tongue went deep. She lay back, almost in a swoon. He seemed nearly desperate. His hand slipped under her tank top through an arm hole to claim her breast. A fire of need raged in her and her fingers flew at his belt buckle. He helped her shove his jeans from him, then pulled hers off as well. The tank top went over her head and he was inside her in a second.

The months of missing him welled in her. Her knees went wide for him and one heel pressed his behind to drive him deeper. Slowly he stroked. He trembled in a struggle for control, but she could see on his face he couldn't succeed. She whispered, "Come."

He came with a groan and a sigh, and moved slowly some more until there was no longer any point.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "No reason to be sorry. I won't let you get away from here too soon."

With a smile, he freed one elbow from his shirt and kissed her. He touched the side of her face, her jaw, then ran a finger over her lips where they touched his. His tongue came out to tease hers. The smell of disturbed grass filled her head.

"How deep is that water?" He pointed with his chin to the pool.

"A few feet out by the rock. In the middle it's about ten, I think."

He stood and drew her to her feet. His shirt fell to the ground as they went to the water naked. The fish scattered as he slipped into the creek and gasped at the chilly water. She joined him and pushed off from the rock, floating on her back in the slow current. Mulder stood by the rock, his elbows rested on it.

The cold water made Brette's skin tingle. Mulder stared at her breasts gleaming just above the surface. She took a moment to watch him, treading water in the deep. His full lower lip was between his teeth, as if to control the smile that crept across his face. Then for a moment the expression was almost one of pain, but that passed and he was smiling again. It must have been her imagination, or him squinting into the sun.

It was a short swim back to him, and he took her into his arms for a kiss. His body was a wonderful warmth in the cold mountain stream.

Then he held her waist. "Up here," he said, and boosted her onto the rock. She sat on the edge and he pressed her knees apart with his palms. Electric shivers shot through her thighs and collected between her legs. Mulder pressed her belly until she lay back on the rock, then he set her heels against the side of it just under the water. Chilly water lapped at her ankles.

Cold water dribbled over her sex and made her gasp. It pooled on the rock under her. Then he took another handful and dribbled that onto her as well. The cold water and fresh air against her inner places made her shiver and her chest heave for air, then the heat of his mouth made her gasp.

His tongue spread her open and delved into her flesh like a kid licking a cake bowl clean. Her back arched and her knees spread wider. He spread her with this thumbs and found her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, toying with it so lightly she could only feel the spasms that shot through her legs. The tongue dipped into her passage and she was astounded he could open her like that. Then he set up a rhythmic pull on her. Ecstasy washed over her and it felt like melting on the hot rock in the sun.

His strokes were relentless. Muscles in her thighs twitched and a low moan rumbled in her chest. He slipped a hand under her leg and reached up for her breast. She pressed her own hand over his and held it there, wishing he would never let go.

The tension in her belly built until it couldn't be contained. Trembling set up. Her knees jumped. Her neck arched and a cry escaped her as a deep, shuddering orgasm took her away. Mulder's tongue kept at her until she could no longer stand the stroking and pushed his head from her.

He straightened to kiss her belly, then laid his face against it. Still gasping, she held him there between her thighs.

"Life is so good," he said.

That was certainly out of left field. But she looked down at him, at his lovely face looking up at her, and knew he was right.

She reached down and urged him onto the rock next to her. With one boost he was sitting between her legs and she saw he was hard again. A wide smile she'd never seen on him lit his face. "Look what you did," he said.

"There's an old line."

He laughed, relaxed. As if the sun were melting him like a bar of chocolate.

Brette reached over to cradle his penis and he leaned back on his palms, his head thrown back. Bathed in sunshine, his body gleamed fresh from the stream. She adjusted her seat and leaned over to take him into her mouth. A sigh deflated him and his knees went wide.

He was huge. With one fist completely around the base, her mouth still couldn't touch her hand without him making her gag. She cradled his balls with her other hand and toyed with the tip, sucking and licking.

Soon he was gasping and his head came forward. A glance up at him, and she saw his eyelids drooping and his mouth sagging open as his chest heaved. He reached for her and drew her on top of him.

She straddled him and settled over his penis. His hardness filled her until she could feel her insides rearrange to accommodate him. He held her to him and thrust into her in short jerks. His moans sounded like pain. He trembled, and the excitement fed hers until they both came at once with a mighty shudder. Lying on the sun-heated rock, they held each other. He murmured, "Cherry blossoms."

"Huh?" She looked at him, but his eyes were closed and he seemed asleep. So she rested her head on his shoulder and they both dozed in the sunshine, a breeze wafting over them.

When she awoke, she was alone. The sun was about to dip behind the trees; it must have been an hour or so she'd slept. A look around told her Mulder's clothes were gone. Hers were the only ones scattered over the bank. The only sign of him was the bruised feeling inside her and the scent of sex he'd left behind.

Why had he gone into the house and left her there naked and alone? Somewhat perturbed, she gathered her clothing and drew it on as she walked back to the house. Khan awaited her by the back door, and jumped up to greet her.

"Mulder didn't let you in?" She scratched the German Shepherd behind the ears before opening the door. "Mulder?" The kitchen was empty. "Where'd you go, man?"

There was no answer.

"Mulder, what's the deal?" Had he gone back to Markleeville? Maybe all the way back to Washington? The thought weighed on her like a huge dread. She couldn't imagine him coming all this way just to get laid then leave.

The house was empty. She took a look out front for his car, but there were no vehicles in the driveway except her Cherokee.

Huh.

She looked around the house again, but could find no evidence he'd been inside. It slowly sunk in that he'd left straight from the creek.

"Bastard." Now she didn't know what to feel. She stood for a moment, at a loss. Tears rose, but didn't quite make it to her eyes. Finally she picked up the phone to call Markleeville. Charlie answered.

"Best Western."

"Charlie, you got a guy staying there named Fox Mulder? Give me his room."

"Who's this? Brette? Naw, there's nobody by that name here. FOX Mulder, you say? Uh uh. Not here."

"Somebody who's kinda tall, thin, short brown hair and wearing jeans and a work shirt?"

"Nope."

Brette was silent, with no idea what to say next. But there wasn't anything else to say except, "Thanks, Charlie. Sorry I bothered you."

She went through the phone book for hotels in Lake Tahoe, but could find no Fox Mulder anywhere. The only thing left to do was leave a message at his office. A nice, cryptic but to-the-point fuckyouverymuch.

Chewing on the inside corner of her mouth, she dialed FBI headquarters and asked for Mulder's office, expecting to get voice mail. Instead a woman answered. Rats.

"Scully." It was the partner Mulder had mentioned during his first visit.

For a second Brette wanted to hang up, but she pushed ahead to get it over with. "Agent Scully, my name is Brette Hoffstetler. I'd like to leave a message for Agent Mulder."

There was a dark pause, then Scully's voice came hard and urgent. "Brette Hoffstettler? Ms. Hoffstetler, you must come to Washington immediately. Agent Mulder needs you."

Brette went cold and began to shake.

Outside George Washington University Medical Center, Brette reached up to pluck a sprig of cherry blossoms from a fluffy pink tree and put it through a buttonhole in her jacket. Inside, she was directed to the fifth floor where the nurse seemed relieved she was there.

"He's been asking for you."

Heart pounding, Brette steeled herself for what she would see then entered Mulder's room.

He was gray, like those little men he liked to talk about. Machines hissed and beeped around him like alien torture devices. She whispered his name.

"Mulder."

His eyelids fluttered. He took a moment to focus on her, then a spark of life came to his eyes. "Brette." Agent Scully had told her over the phone it had been a bullet, fired yesterday about the time Brette had been walking down to the creek. He was now missing a rib and a chunk of his left lung.

She sat on the edge of his bed and picked up his left hand, the one without any tubes attached.

His tongue touched his lip and he whispered, "I got shot, Brette."

She nodded, "I know." He was heavily sedated and probably thinking in tiny fragments.

"It hurt an awful lot."

"I bet it did." She remembered the moments of pain she'd seen yesterday.

"After it happened I had a dream. You were there." His face struggled into a smile. "There was...a...there was water." He licked his lip again and took a few breaths before continuing. "We had so much fun. I knew I wasn't going to die then. Didn't wanna die..." His voice trailed off.

"We did have fun, didn't we?" His eyes flickered and she kissed the inside of his wrist. "When you get better you'll have to come down to the creek with me and we'll do it again."

He held his lower lip between his teeth and he let his head sink into his pillow with a smile.

END