Lace by Raine

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Lace by Raine

Mulder sat at his desk sorting through a mass of photos. Graphic illustrations of another case of spontaneous human combustion. He sighed, stretching his arms out over his head, and heard his upper vertebrae pop. He looked at his watch, sighing. It was almost five, and she still hadn't shown up. He was beginning to think that he'd made an enormous mistake the night before. What had possessed him?

He loosened his tie, remembering her voice in his ear, husky and soft. Totally unlike everything he'd associated with the woman who was his partner. God. Where had that woman come from? He grimaced, throwing thoughts of a cloned Scully out of his mind. It had been her. That, in a nutshell, was the problem. The practical, sensible woman he knew would have woken up in the morning. Once awake, she would have logically realized she'd made a huge mistake. Scully would walk in the door, look him in the eye, and tell him professional terms it was over. Then, just as suddenly as she had entered his life, she would depart, leaving the basement office silent and lonely once more.

Things would have been fine if I hadn't called her, he thought. Everything would have stayed the same, with them not acknowledging the underlying sexual tension. Everything had been fine in the land of denial, he thought, until a little man called Lust came along with explosives, and blew everything all to hell. Mulder put his head in his hands, forgetting the photos entirely. He could almost smell her perfume lingering in the dim office. Fantasies were one thing, reality was another. It was all too easy to see how a voice on the phone, disembodied, could relax Scully's guard, given the sexual energy she'd been radiating. That sexual energy combined with the astonishing phone sex they'd had kept him from sleeping at all last night. He suddenly felt exhausted.

Mulder put his head in his hands, struggling for control. Looking down at the photos, he couldn't place them for several moments. When the case finally registered, he knew he wouldn't be getting any more work done. One conversation, and he was reduced to a useless, lovestruck, schoolboy. For the first time in more than two years, Mulder left for home before six p.m.

Mulder's hand clenched around the steering wheel of the Taurus. He had to force himself not to change the direction of the car towards Scully's apartment. Images of himself using his key to enter ran through his head. Even if she made him leave, told him it was a horrible mistake, a one-time fluke, he would see her. He would know. His jaw clenched as he pulled up opposite his apartment building. He willed himself out of the car. Mulder knew she had to come to him.

The next move had to be hers. The truth was that his feelings hadn't just come out of the blue. He had been in love with Dana Scully for a long time. If he wanted her to return his feelings, he needed to give her space.

He opened the door to his apartment and stepped into the dim light of the hallway. Walking into the den, he threw his jacket over a chair before noticing the woman on his couch.

She sat there on the leather couch with her legs crossed, looking at him. Mulder stopped dead. They stared at each other for a moment, not speaking, their eyes locked.

Finally, breaking his gaze, he noticed what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn't. His trenchcoat was wrapped around her slender form tightly, like a belted dress. Scully's hair was up, with little wisps floating around her face and neck. His words from last night came back to haunt him, and he swallowed.

Scully smiled, her face tilted. She dangled one creme colored high-heeled shoe from a small stockinged foot, watching his eyes trace the movement of the shoe as if hypnotized. The power she felt before her was intoxicating. All last night, she had lay in bed thinking about what had happened, still unable to sleep. Scully wasn't used to being reduced to a quivering mass. The fact that he had done that very thing with such apparent ease frightened her. At the same time, it aroused her and made her wonder what he could do in person. Her internal war finally reached a truce. She would find out, but he would pay. Her loss of control in exchange for his. Scully made her voice deliberately light.

"Hi, Mulder. I just let myself in since you weren't home, I hope you don't mind."

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the images suddenly filling it. Images of what she was doing there. What she wore underneath *his* trenchcoat. Words. He needed to respond. "No, of course not, Scully. What's up?" Her move, he repeated to himself, hers.

Dana grasped one dangling portion of beige belt and tugged playfully. Mulder's eyes widened and his breathing labored for a moment before he realized the trench wasn't opening. Her knowing eyes slid over his face as she replied, her words again innocuous. "Well, since I wasn't able to make it into the office today, I thought I should get an update on how things were going. Do we have a new case?"

New...case. Her words finally clicked into place. He mentally slapped himself. he was standing in his own apartment like a brainless idiot. If she wanted to play, he would play. He braced himself and smiled broadly.

"Actually, we have a very interesting case, Scully. I could use your medical opinion on this." Her eyes flashed for a moment in confusion at his brisk, professional tone until understanding clicked in. He thought he could beat her. This was going to be even more interesting than she had anticipated. She smiled in return, looking straight into his eyes as she slowly uncrossed her legs, opening them just slightly before she rose. She walked languidly over to where Mulder stood in the archway.

She stood a foot away. Already, she could the pulsing of her blood, creating a force between them. Dana ignored it with difficulty, and replied.

"What is it, Mulder?" Her tone was soft, and desire made her voice husky. She was rewarded with the glazed look in his eyes. He quickly recovered.

"Spontaneous human combustion, Scully." Mulder's voice was liquid gravel. He moved imperceptibly closer, invading her body space ever so slightly. "I've received disturbing reports of people...burning... in apparently unexplainable circumstances." Scully had to close her eyes for a moment as he drew out the word 'burning'. Damn, he was good.

She drew upon her formidable willpower to keep from melting into a puddle right there. She *would not* bend, she told herself. Scully just hoped that he did, because she was caring less all the time. She responded quietly, playing with the fabric around the deep throat of the trenchcoat nonchalantly. "Nothing in nature happens without reason, Mulder. I'm sure we'll find plausible...physical...reasons, given adequate investigation." Her body moved, revealing a bit of pale thigh through the gap in the trenchcoat as the fabric swayed.

Mulder stared at the lacy top of her momentarily revealed stocking. When he again met Dana's eyes, he saw the beginnings of satisfaction. He moved the game up another notch, knowing that if he didn't, he would fold. Victory was unimportant; being a worthy opponent, everything.

Mulder responded by untying his necktie and slinging it over the couch. As he spoke, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled the sleeves upward onto his forearms. He moved away from her abruptly and went to sit in the straight-backed chair in front of his desk, turning it around to face her. He murmured, "That's better. Now, if, as you say, there are natural physical reasons why these people just suddenly...ignite, what are they, Doctor Scully?"

She stood there. Suddenly she felt like someone had placed the wrong end of a live wire in her panties. His posture was eerily similar to the man in the movie. The memory triggered all the desire and frustration of the previous night. Dana shivered, damning him for forcing her to think.

He looked at her, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes were almost black in the dim light. "Well, Scully? I'm waiting. Please, enlighten me."

Dana smiled, facing him, and began to walk deliberately towards him. She absently grasped her hair clip and shook out her bright auburn hair as she began to speak. "Well, Mulder, it's actually a...pleasure...to be able to relate my opinion on this subject." She licked her lips as she stopped, revealing a bit of pink tongue. Her legs halted just between his knees.

"Spontaneous Human Combustion *cannot* result in unexplainable circumstances, since it actually happens within the laws of physics. In fact," here she moved just a bit closer, leaning over his seated form, "Mulder, those 'classic' cases of spontaneous combustion you love to site are often cases of people resting on unflamable materials. In short, people who were simply careless with fire."

Dana's eyes sparkled as she drew out the last syllable. She was gaining. At least, that was what she thought before she felt Mulder's hand slide beneath the trenchcoat. She gasped, feeling his hand resting casually on the back of her thigh. His face remained impassive, interested, as his fingers began to play with the lace edging of her thigh-high stocking. Little sparks jumped from his fingers straight to her already moist center.

Mulder replied, "So...am I to construe from this that you believe that a woman who burned to death in her *wooden* rocking chair was simply 'careless with fire'? This, when neither the chair or any other flammable materials in the house were touched?"

<Not fair...not...fair...Oh god, get a hold of yourself, Dana Scully>, her inner voice hissed loudly. <Don't go out like this.> With difficulty she pried open eyes she couldn't remember closing. If he wanted to touch her so badly, she'd give him something.

Dana opened the knot of the trenchcoat and slowly, pushing the coat over her slim shoulders, let the trenchcoat fall to the floor in a puddle of thick fabric. She stood before him, wearing nothing but a cream lace bra with matching panties, stockings, and heels. She waited, her spine straight, until she saw his reaction.

Her mind noted and catalogued each reaction. Flushed skin, dilated pupils, ragged breathing. Excellent. Speaking in husky tones, she spoke, her breath against his ear. Her freed hair brushed across his face, giving him a noseful of her flower-scented shampoo. "You...raise...an interesting point, Mulder. However, the supposed 'classic' case of SHC you recite *can* be explained." She then moved slowly, backing away, using one slim, high heeled leg to push his legs together. They went obediently.

Mulder felt like a waxy mannequin, momentarily rendered useless. Then she sat down, again at a leisurely pace, on the edge of his knees. Her legs were spread, and her heels rested on the floor on either side of his legs.

Mulder had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus. She was gorgeous, and she was in his lap wearing nothing but flimsy lace underwear. He could faintly smell her musky arousal intermingled with her floral perfume. He itched to tear off those scraps of cloth and pull her forward so she was...The image seared his brain, and he folded.

With an almost animal cry, Mulder pulled Scully forward so she was fully in his lap. His steely erection pressed into her through their clothing, making her cry out. Grabbing the back of Scully's head, he pulled her down and began to kiss her. Like giving a steak to a starving man, he tore into her regardless of the consequences. His hands snapped off the bra, freeing her breasts.

He could feel her hands searching for buttons on his shirt, and failing that, tugging at the cloth until it began to give. Buttons flew, and she pressed her hardened nipples into his chest.

They pressed into each other, wanting to get closer, to crawl into the other's skin. Mulder grasped one bobbing nipple in his mouth and tugged with his lips, flicking his tongue over the surface. Scully gasped for air. The throbbing between her legs had grown insistent in its urgency.

Mulder ran his index and middle finger over the top of her panties, then lower underneath the silk. As he brushed his fingers over her damp mound, her body jerked convulsively, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. He gasped at how moist she was. Mulder's thumb moved to rest on her sensitive bundle of nerves while he slipped on finger, then two into her. She bucked convulsively and bit down into his shoulder. He cried out in pain just as the chair overbalanced and toppled over.

They landed in a heap. Dana yelped as her shoe slipped and her foot twisted underneath her. Mulder gathered himself up and went to see if she was okay. She laid there, an expression of pain twisting her lips. Scully managed, "I think I broke my ankle." Then she started to laugh, weakly. Mulder stared at her, shocked, then began to laugh as well.

"Well, at least it's only sprained, Scully," Mulder said as they exited the clinic. He helped her into the car, putting the crutches into the back seat. Once underway, Scully said, "You should have told me what you do to women who come to your apartment in their underwear, Mulder."

He leered at her. "I reserve the right to cripple all women I attempt to have sex with, Dana."

She grinned. "Well, I guess that explains all of those women wandering around with casts and crutches. I was wondering..."

"Now that you know all my tricks, Scully." He replied seriously. "You have a choice. Quick and merciful death, or you can stay with me."

She looked at him for a moment before replying. Dana studied his face. She couldn't remember ever caring more about anyone. Was it love? Scully grinned, suddenly knowing the answer. "You mean, or a slow and lingering death, Mulder?"

"Very funny, Agent Scully." He replied. "Well? What'll it be?"

"Well, if those tricks include overextended tendons, you have nothing to worry about, Mulder."

"Damn, my last reservoir of sexual techniques, stripped from me. I have nothing left to give." Mulder quipped awkwardly, wishing she would answer.

She smiled at him as they got onto the freeway. Dana said, mildly, "Oh, I can think of a few things left to suck from you."

Mulder swallowed the sunflower he'd been attempting to de-shell and took the off-ramp for his apartment.

= end =