Finding Heat

Finding Heat by RNT I Clever

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Finding Heat by RNT. I. Clever

"Do you have hot water, Mulder?" Scully asked. Her teeth chattered, as she tried to make herself as small as possible. She was curled up on his couch, her coat still on, and an extra blanket wrapped around her legs.

And she was still cold. She stared at Mulder, and the mound of paperwork separating them on the couch. His long legs were sprawled out, his feet nudging under the side of her blanket, seeking warmth.The afghan wrapped around his shoulders was doing no good. His lips were an unhealthy shade of purple, and his body quaked from the cold.

His gloved hand stopped fumbling with the tiny pen for a moment, as he looked up at her from the form he was trying to fill out. It was their usual, once-a-month blow-out, when they combined all the paperwork they had gotten behind on, and finished it up in one weekend. They had spent those lovely two days in at Scully's apartment last month, so now it was his turn to play host. Too bad it was his apartment whose heating was out.

"Probably n- not. The pipes are probably frozen," he said in short gasps. The air was so cold, it was starting to hurt his lungs. "Wh- Why don't we just go to your apartment- you've got heat!" he exclaimed.

She sighed. "Thought of that already. But have you seen the outside? Not only is it pitch black, but the snowplows aren't plowing, and there's at least a foot of snow on the ground. We'd never make it," she said miserably.

Mulder's foot wormed under the blanket, and rose up, trying to nudge its way between the crook of her thigh and calve, sensing warmth. Meanwhile his body was following the action, sliding towards her. A mound of papers slid to the floor in his wake, and he groaned.

"Move your foot, Mulder," she said, retreating.

"I'm so cold, Scully-"

She gave him a pointed look. "And I'm not? Come on, gather a folder or three, and follow me. I've got an idea."

He did as she told him, almost yelping when his sock-clad foot touched the cold floorboards. He gathered the blankets, three folders, and his pen. She moved into the kitchen, which led off to the bathroom. Shutting the door, she turned on his oven. Mulder set the papers down on the small table, and watched her earnestly. She opened the oven door, after putting the heat all the way to 450 degrees. Then she went into his bathroom, and started up the shower. "Yes! Hot water!" she said. She sounded like her favorite team had just won the Superbowl, as she came back into the kitchen, wearing a triumphant grin. "Come on, get the files, and get in there," she ordered.

He did as she asked, again, confused. She shut the door as soon as he was in, and sighed comfortably. Mulder slid down and sat leaning against the door. The sink to the right, and the bathtub to the left framed him in the middle. "The steam from the shower should keep us warm until the oven warms your kitchen, but until then..." she trailed off, and then threw the two blankets over him. In a second, she had snuck under them, and was curling up beside him. She placed a folder in his lap, put another in hers, and squeezed in the small space between him and the bathtub. Once she was settled, she opened her folder and began filling the forms out again. Mulder stared at her for a long moment.

"Have I ever told you that you are the most innovative person I have ever met?"

"Just now. Have I ever told you that you need to shave?" she asked, not looking up.

"I do?" he asked, rubbing the side of his face. "Damn, I've been so busy filling out these reports, I hadn't noticed. Have I ever told you that you need a shower?"

"Have I ever told you that if I'm kept captive in this hellhole you call home, it's most likely because A) you're keeping me here against my will, or B) this mound of paperwork is making me sick to my stomach, my hand is starting to cramp, and if I have to write down your badge number one more time, I'm going to scream. And it's ten o'clock on a Saturday night, and I'm sitting on your bathroom floor, feeling a bit like a cat, rubbing up next to you for warmth, I've been here since Friday night, and I had to cook supper last night, so it's your turn, and if you try to feed me some of that Godforsaken Chinese food left over from TWO MONTHS AGO, I will kill you with my bare hands. And I want to take a shower, and we've still got a hundred forms to wade through, and I probably won't get out of this apartment until Tuesday, because of this stupid blizzard, and there's only one warm room in the entire place, and now it's too hot, and-"

"Snap out of it!" Mulder yelled. She stared at him a moment, blinking. "God, I can't help it tht we're stuck in here. I'm just as miserable as you are, but I'm not bitching about it!"

She sobered suddenly, and then her eyes narrowed, becoming like a hawk's. The only sound was the water thrumming in the shower. Suddenly, she dumped her file on his lap, the papers sliding all over the place. He watched her stand, shrug out of her coat, and tug on her wool sweater.A second later, she shut the water in the shower off. She slipped out of her sneakers and socks, dropping them, and then stared down at him. She opened the cabinet over his sink, and brought out a can of shaving cream and a razor. She slammed them down on the side of the sink, and then pulled back his shower curtain, and stepped inside, closing it back up again.

"Scully, what are you doing?"

"No more forms. They're making me cranky. We'll finish the rest tomorrow, or Monday, since we'll probably be snowed in. I'm going to take a shower, because I haven't had one since Friday morning, and my hair feels greasy, and I'm sweating now. I want you to shave, because you started to this morning, and then got distracted because I made bacon. Half of your face has longer stubble than the other half. You look ridiculous." A large blue mound he recognized as her sweater came flying over the side, followed by her black jeans, and then some black undergarments. Her bra hit him in the head.

"Ow! You did that on purpose!" he said, getting to his feet. She started the water back on again, and then poked her head around the side of the curtain.

"Did what?" she asked.

He stared at her, and wondered if she realized that the curve of her naked hip was visible. He forced himself to look up instead of down. He held out the lacy black bra. "You hit me in the head. I-" he stopped suddenly, staring a little more closely at her bra. His face widened into a grin. "You wore this just to be with me, didn't you?" he asked. He stared at the silky red lining around the edges. He held it out, towards where her chest was as she stared at him.

"Mulder, I wore that because I haven't done my laundry this week, and I didn't have anything else. And what are you doing?" she asked.

He took a step closer to her, and held the lace up again. "Forming a mental image. Scully with black lace and red silk. Always knew there was a wild woman in you."

She reached out and grabbed her bra, throwing it down on the pile of clothes at her feet. As she did so, her bare leg, and a little beyond, flashed momentarily, before she drew the curtain back hastily.

He smiled to himself, as he filled the sink up, while she cursed him for using the water. "So you're a natural redhead, Scully?" he asked, spreading white shaving foam over his face. He glanced in the mirror, and saw her staring out, her eyes heavy-lidded, relaxing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your hair- that's your natural color."

She frowned, tensing. "How do you know that?"

"Well, let's just say that when you grabbed your undergarments, I got a nice view," he said. His eyes caught hers in the mirror, and her own darkened as she understood his meaning.

She swallowed deeply. "Can you hand me the conditioner, Mulder?" she asked softly. He peeled away a thin line of shaving cream with a razor, before opening his cabinet, and taking out a bottle of conditioner. He crossed the small space, so that he was standing close to her.

"Don't use all the hot water, Scully, I want to take a shower myself."

She nodded, grabbing the bottle from his hand, and pulling the curtain shut, making sure there was no way he could see in, as she leaned against the side of the wall, taking a deep breath, as she began to put the conditioner in her hair. He had seen her. It wasn't the fact that he now knew she didn't dye her hair, it was more of the fact that he had looked at her, intimately. And he was so careless and nonchalant about it all.

From the outside. From the look in those hazel eyes, that darkening look that had ever so briefly graced her face, she knew that it was more to him than what he had made it out to be. She bit her lip, frowning, as she slid her hands through her hair. She tried to discern what she was feeling. Embarrassment, excitement, denial, anger... none of the emotions seemed to fit her cause.And when she did recognize the emotion, she was more embarrassed than ever.

For what she was feeling wasn't embarrassment, excitement, or anger. And she wasn't in a state of denial.

No. Dana Katherine Scully was disappointed. She had hoped Mulder would look at her, and he would stare at her, and then his gaze would focus on her eyes, and he would whisper, "You're beautiful Scully, I want you." It had been a private little fantasy that she had never really wanted to act upon, had never wanted it to be acted upon. But now, the thought that he didn't find anything spectacular about her, that there was no stark moment of raw lust igniting between them left her feeling cold.

"Mulder? Will you get me a towel?" she asked, running her fingers through her wet hair a few more times.

"Are y ou kidding? It's freezing out there, Scully. Get one yourself!" he cried.

She snorted. "I'm not exactly in a position to do so."

"Look, I've got an idea. Leave the hot water on, and stand by one end of the curtain, okay? I'll strip down, and then you can get out, and at the same time I'll get in, and there won't be anything embarrassing about this for either of us," he said reasonably.

She sighed. "Okay, fine, strip Mulder."

He tapped at one side of the curtain a few moments later, and she moved to the other side, getting ready to jump out. "You naked Mulder?" she asked.

He chuckled. The sound was low and erotic to her ears. He was naked on the other side of this stupid barrier of plastic! "You should sign up for one of those phone sex lines- you'd be great."

"No, I'd have to quit my day job. All right, on the count of three. One... two... three-"

Simultaneously on her three, Mulder broke out, "Wait, Scully, I forgot to take off my socks."

But it was too late. She burst through the end of the curtain, and halted, realizing that he was standing there. And that they were both stark naked. Her eyes caught his for a moment, a wild flush creeping into her body. They didn't move, their eyes testing each other's resolve. Then she took the plunge, and started looking down. His chest was smooth and firm, the small patch of hair in the center standing out against his pale skin. Her fingers ached to touch him. She looked at his arms, the strength there, and then her eyes traveled lower. His lean waist, hips, and then she stared directly at him. Mulder remained motionless during her examination, watching her watching him.

He saw her mouth open slightly, her lower lip trembling as she stared at him. Just the look on her face had his body reacting. He felt it, and he saw the flush of color in her cheeks grow so dark, she looked like a cherry. She let her eyes play over him, her fingers aching to touch him, to feel the need that was slowly building inside him. She glanced over his well-muscled legs, thinking of them colliding against her own, as their bodies careened towards pleasure. She almost laughed when she saw the white tube socks still adorning his feet. Then, satisfied, she looked back at his eyes. It was his turn. He stared at the slimness of her throat, her neat collar bones, her arms, and finally looked at her breasts. The red tips were furled and he literally bit his tongue, trying to ignore how much he wanted to taste them, to nibble them softly, until she cried out with her need for him to be inside her.

Lower, he looked, to her curving figure, to the dark place at the apex of her thighs, and then at her legs. They nearly drove him wild. They looked so smooth, and slim. Strong. He could feel them wrapping around his waist, as he submerged himself in the fiery interior of her warm, willing body. The water clung to her, touching all the places he wished he could touch for himself. How he would love to be that smooth drop of water, the one that was sliding over her neck, down to her breast, where it pooled at the tip. He looked back into her eyes, and he saw his need there. Matched, heightened.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She took a cautious step, not wanting to ruin whatever spell had possessed them. She moved to his body, and touched his shoulder softly. The skin was dry and cool. She ran her hand lightly down his chest, thoroughly observing his body. Then she took his hand, and pulled him into the shower. It was dimmer there, as she felt the hot water stroke her body.

Carefully, she grabbed a bar of soap. She spread the soap on her hands, lathering it well, and then washed his chest and shoulders. He let her, he didn't make a move to touch her, because it would be the end of this, of her hands, on his body, and he wanted those slim, tapered fingers touching him, so intimately there. Her hands slid to his abdomen, and then to his arms. Her hip brushed against his center, and she felt the response coaxing her to turn, and let him find entry. She found the energy, the will to remain stoic against that hot, heated press. Even as she slid lower, her hands lathering over his hips, his groin, and tracing the solid length of him.

"Dana," he managed. His voice was hoarse, raw from pure need. Her eyes glittered, and she moved away from that area, carefully washing his back, the smooth lather gliding with her hands over him. He was going to do it, he knew he was. He was going to push her back against the wall of the shower, and bury himself inside her, whether she wanted him to do so at that point or not. He had never done so. He had always waited for the words to guide him with every woman he had been with. He wanted to hear her say those words, but if she could keep up her charade, then by God, so could he. But the more he thought of her whispering those dark words, a beg, a plea, an order, any way she would say it, the more he was tempted to make her say it. To beg and plead until she said it to him. He was as hard as stone, and every inch of his being ached to be inside her. To hear the husky cries of pleasure, the words, those damn words. Not speaking, not answering his needy cry, she stood and handed him the bar of soap. He was clueless as to what to do for the moment. He didn't want to lather her body, he wanted to be inside her body, stretching her, pushing them both past the breaking point, to where rational thought could not compete with the joining that felt so smooth and right, that it was almost painful.

He looked at her again. "I want you," he whispered softly. He took the soap, and began to lather her body, spending more time than necessary on her breasts, testing the weight of them, hid thumb diddling over her nipples. They were so soft and round in his palms. He knelt in front of her, his head nuzzling her center softly as he lathered her there. On the return, his finger slipped inside her, slowly stroking her, until he could feel her quivering, shuddering with passion, with need. "The words, Dana," he begged, rising. "Please, please," he pleaded.

She looked at him with hooded lashes. His resolve had shattered. She was trying to hold onto hers, trying to keep everything together, but she couldn't. Finally, she nodded. "I love you, Fox Mulder."

He stiffened. Those words?

She gazed at him a long moment. She was coming clean. He could see it in her eyes, where all the barriers were breaking down, and then it was just her and him, their souls and bodies combined in a tiny shower stall. And he saw her love, and it filled that empty, dark spot in him. The spot that he had thought she would never reach, had sworn she would never reach. She would never touch that part, because it was so dear to him, it meant that there was nothing more important to him, it symbolized never being hurt by a woman whom you gave your heart to...

And he would never be hurt by her. She would never hurt him. And she had found that place, looked specifically for that dark abyss that housed the emotions he felt he could never tell her. She had sought it out, with her gentle kindness, lazy caresses, and yes, even with her bitching about the cold and his bad eating habits. They were one together in soul. Their bodies just had to catch up.

"I love you, Dana Scully."

The words were barely a whisper, but he didn't need the extra emotion to shout it out. The words surrounded her, captivated her, and then she wanted more, she wanted everything. He was going to give her everything in that second.

"I want you," she begged. He lifted her hips, holding her poised over him, and then slowly, almost painfully, he set her down on him. She gasped out loud, feeling the firmness of his touch, his body. He was there, and he was inside her, waiting for her to make the first move. He began to move gently, the strokes long and full, a sweet measure of their joining. She picked up the rhythm, rising to meet him, giving and taking the pleasure. His teeth nibbled on the rosy red tips of her breasts, as he kept pushing into her. She was reaching for it. that place was coming, where there was no thought of right or wrong, or anything else. Just the beauty of being one with him. It was coming like a tidal wave, sweeping them both up. Floating in a cloud of ecstasy, the journey there being so close to heaven, she was dreading actually coming there. He leaned up, pummeling himself into her in a desperate attempt to get them there more quickly, it was coming, rising like her hips rose to meet him. And then he kissed her. His lips slanted across hers, and she opened herself to him, as the strokes of his tongue matched his other strokes. It was there, they were on the brink of that beautiful place of feeling...

Their tongues met.

She screamed with pleasure into his mouth, as the pace quickened, and she was there, wherever there was, released from her body, from its sole confines. She was wherever this magical place he had taken her to was, and she loved being here. They were one in body and soul. She felt his own release, simultaneous to her own, and then they collapsed to the floor of the shower. She landed on top of him, exhausted from her journey. The water began to run cold. She sat up and turned it off, and then climbed out of the tub. He followed her, staring at her as if she were some odd sort of specimen that had been taken out of the display case at the museum for his amusement. With love and lust, and wonder, he reached out and softly touched the side of her shoulder. She turned to him, and rushed into his arms, beginning to cry. He pulled the blanket from the edge of the sink, up and over their bodies as she cried and cried. "So good, so good, it was so perfect- "

"I know, I know," he whispered.

"This is the most intimate experience I've ever had. And it was so beautiful, when I could feel you there, inside me-"

He picked her up in his arms, cradling her body to his, and opened the door. The kitchen was warm finally. She stood naked in his kitchen, watching as he brought out a small futon from a closet. He set it up on the floor, and then ran into his living room and bedroom, returning with several blankets. A moment later, they lay on the floor beside each other, their hands entwined.

And neither one was cold for a long, long time.

END.