Millstones I: Tension
by Cynthia J

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* Ok. Here's the first hurdle before the story: the much-ballyhooed, rarely respected disclaimer: For all those in legislation (the nice people we elect to baby-sit our rights) and any others who feel that gross sexual repression is healthy and redeeming, let me warn that this bit of fiction (and all its saucier successors) is fraught with images of an ADULT NATURE (i.e. sex... shhhh). To all minors, please don't read this or you will most assuredly go blind and will be promptly reprimanded by the FCC. To all others (the righteous) who want to "cleanse" us (the pleasantly perverted), please mind your own business and stop trying to shut down sites like this one or we'll just have to come to your house to be weird, ok?

* "The X-Files" and the characters within are the copyrighted property of Chris Carter, who is the property of Ten Thirteen, owned by Twentieth-Century Fox, which is probably owned by the tobacco industry that is no doubt owned by the oil companies held tight in the grip of the Pope, who is the product of Vatican Industries, Inc. Ok. Ok. So these are the brainchildren of Chris Carter, to whom these stories are written with the utmost respect. The fun of these stories is that they offer what Chris Carter cannot without compromising the integrity of his characters and his fantastic show. However, he can tease us (i.e. the May 16th "Rolling Stone") So we're not muscling in, Chris! We're just embellishing a little for the fun of it. Were I to have the time and the patience I would put a big trademark superscript after each mention of a character name, but I'm incorrigibly lazy and believe that would ruin the flow of the story. So you'll just have to imagine a huge "TM" after their names so I don't get sued and have my scholarships, cats and apartment stolen out from under me just because I wanted to have a little fun with something someone else established.

* As a personal favor, I ask that you please leave my stories at this site (after all, that's what it's for) and do not post them far and wide. Keep a copy for yourself, but be greedy with it. Think of it as a stolen moment we've shared that we'll keep our secret. I know it's neurotic! However, the words came from me, and I think that wide distribution cheapens them. I'm a kiss-in-the-shadow kind of person and not a billboard-and-neon type. So please keep it here; Bobbi went to a lot of trouble to make this site, after all.

* To everyone else who's made it to this checkpoint, let me thank you for your patience and apologize for the fact that we live in a world that demands such drivel as the above. Please enjoy (if you're still awake) and remember: it's all for the sake of fun. Loosen up.

* Be gentle. This is part one of what will most likely be a three-part story. Also, this is my first "X-Files" tale, so all I ask is your patience. My writing takes forever to get to the point, usually dancing around with ambiance before getting to any kind of action. Hopefully, you won't be disappointed, though. Enjoy, take care and be free! -Cynthia

Millstones Part I: Tension
by Cynthia J

Churning up dirt, the car leapt back onto the highway, the engine whining in protest. Scully smirked and offered, "Do we know where we're going now?" Mulder pursed his lips, holding back, and drove in silence. He focused on the long stretch of road ahead and ignored the barbed invitation of her sarcasm. She looked at him expectantly, studying the clench of his jaw and daring a rebuttal. Disappointed, she cocked an eyebrow and, with a sigh, returned to the thin stack of documents in her lap.

Silence reigned until they had put the lonely gas station several miles behind them. "I really wish we had more on this case," Scully said. "What we have is pretty thin." She shuffled the papers for the umpteenth time and looked over the first page, although she could quote it verbatim. "The first victim died in what seemed to be a camping accident, having been severely burned while still in his sleeping bag." Mulder sighed, and a cord in his neck tensed. She bit her lip, shot him a sideways look and continued. "However, there was no evidence of a campfire or of any flammable agents."

Mulder smacked the dashboard and muttered, "Why is it that every damn car we rent only has an AM radio?!?"

She let the interruption pass, but her eyes seethed. "The second was found in a grove of trees two miles south of the first site three days late..."

"Ok! Ok!" he snapped. "We know the background already! How many times can we go over it?!?"

Scully shot him a burning look and gazed at the blur of forest outside before rounding on him. "What's your problem, Mulder?!?" she said. "You've been irritable ever since we left the airport and for the last fifty miles you've said barely enough words to constitute a sentence!" She sank back in the seat and pretended to read the reports again, a tiny flush blooming on her cheeks.

"Look," he said, a flustered edge in his voice, "I'm just a little stressed and haven't gotten much sleep lately." He paused, gathering his words carefully before continuing. "I just don't understand why you have to keep recycling case histories to avoid real conversation."

She cocked her head. "I'm not avoiding conversation, Mulder," she said. "We have very little to go on walking into this case, and I want to thoroughly sift the facts before we're knee-deep in it." She glared dismissively at him, but her own sincerity sounded a little wooden.

Silence fattened the air until it seemed too heavy to breathe. Scully crossed her legs and promptly spilled the papers from her lap. Mulder snuck a glance as her legs shifted and her skirt clung tight. She sighed and bent down to gather the files up, knocking her head on the glove compartment. "Damn it!" she muttered, rubbing her head, the stack plopped back in her lap. Mulder glued his eyes back onto the road and quickly hid his smirk.

He leaned in and turned the air-conditioning up another notch. Scully stared at the top page but seemed to read the same line over and over again. "And what is 'real conversation' anyway?" she said, dissolving the silence. "We're jumping into a situation we know almost nothing about! What else could we possibly have to talk about?!? Work keeps us both so busy that I can't imagine we have much in common left to discuss except for sleep!"

His face locked again, and more tension lines stretched down his neck. She continued to spout, having tapped a cache of her own stress. "What do you want to talk about, Mulder? If it will get more than two words and a grunt out of you, I'll do anything!" Having pitched the papers into the backseat, she branded him with a look that demanded an answer. The flush in her cheeks had claimed more of her face. Strands of red hair rose out of place, tousled by the heat rising from her skin.

"I'd just like to talk about more than just business for once," he said. "All this time, and we don't really know each other that well. And I want to know more about... you." He shrugged and scrawled a nervous smile across his face. Silence thanked them for keeping its seat warm and settled back in. The world blurred by, a generic amalgam of pavement, white lines and trees. His smile collapsed under tension, and his eyes appeared to swim about nervously, as though he wished he could take back his words.

She continued to stare at him, nonplused. "Just what do you want to know, Mulder?" she said, the incisive edge of her voice dulled by perverse suspicions. She quickly abandoned irritation for curiosity, which grew exponentially the more he stalled. He faked a cough and squirmed visibly, his hands relentlessly fidgeting with the air-conditioning controls and the vents. A flush crawled up his neck and engulfed his entire face in seconds. When she leaned closer, daring an answer all the more, he shifted his behind as though he wanted to sink into the seat. He made a paper-thin attempt to divert the conversation to the weather, but her eyes kept roaming his face, looking for the seam in his mask.

When he fought the seatbelt to bury his lap with his blazer, a devilish grin burst across her face. A hand rose before her mouth to cover her explosive laughter, and she sank back, letting tension ride out on waves of spastic giggles. Her musical laughter was infectious, but the best he could muster was a confused smirk. "What?" he asked, trying to sound perplexed.

"Oh, come on, Mulder!" Scully laughed. "Your tie is pointing at it!" Her giddy, school-girl laughter shocked them both but felt good. The sudden, wild release eased the tension between them considerably. She reined in her laughter long enough to say, "Don't try to tell me that's where you're keeping your gun now!" He watched as she clutched her stomach, stared as spasms shook her chest. Mulder abandoned his meek resolve. A genuine smile took possession of his face, and in seconds he was laughing with her, amazed.

"What can I say?" he said. "I am Male: stubborn of mind and weak of flesh." He laughed at himself and fueled her giggles. "Scully, you can claim the conspiracies and the unexplained, but ultimately I am ruled by this." He tilted a hand at the bulge his tie draped over. They both lost it, sharing the rich laughter of a stolen moment: a time when pretenses and image dissolve in a warm solution of honesty and ardor.

When they quieted down, she leered at him and, the angry edge completely absent from her voice, whispered, "I've noticed you watching me before." He feigned innocence. "You have intense eyes. Sometimes it's hard not to feel them." She looked away and smoothed her skirt. "What made you so irritable at the airport, Mulder?"

"I watched you when you were asleep on the plane," he confessed, his own voice softer. "That was just an appreciative glance. Nothing I can hang for." He grinned. His eyes became earnest, and his voice dropped to a guarded whisper, a raspy hum. "What was out of the ordinary was the wild dream you must have been having, Scully. I've never seen someone have so much fun in their sleep."

Scully laughed at herself, but self-consciousness nervously tugged at her. "What did I do, Mulder?"

"You were an animal. I'm just glad I had my video camera with me," he said. Her nervous look evolved into a burning gaze. "Ok. Ok. It wasn't that bad, Scully. You started breathing deeply, almost desperately. I thought you were having a nightmare until your lips tensed and you started to make these tiny, uhm, mewling sounds."

Mortified, she sank back and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God! Was I loud? Mulder, did anyone else notice?!?"

"I started selling tickets... ow!" he said, rewarded with a jab to the kidney. "No, I was your captive audience. I couldn't resist, Scully. It was incredible." A sincere hunger painted his eyes. "Your mouth kept whispering the sexiest nonsense, and your hips couldn't seem to sit still. And then there was the, uhm, fidgeting."

Her eyes swelled. "What do you mean, 'fidgeting?'" He pursed his lips but paused, teasing out the moment. She leaned in close. Her expression screamed, "Tell me so I can salvage some shred of self-respect!"

"Well, it was fairly subtle," he began, "but you ran your hands down your neck and over your chest and down your legs." She fell back again, her head in her hands. "You kind of tugged at your skirt a lot, too. I knocked your hand away when the stewardess--excuse me, 'flight attendant'--came by and asked us if we needed anything. I said you were doing fine."

Scully brushed her hair back, shook her head and laughed softly. "No wonder I woke up so refreshed!" she said. "You should have stopped me, Mulder."

"Hey," he said. "For all I know you were dreaming up a cure for cancer. I couldn't live with the guilt if I'd interrupted that." He grinned, a spark in his eye.

Scully chuckled at herself for a while before saying, "It has been a long time. I'm so busy anymore that the only time I have to fit it in is in my sleep. Remind me not to snooze in public anymore, Mulder." She decided it was his turn under the microscope. After all, he's the one with the tie rack in his lap, she thought, on the brink of losing it once more. She did her best to look serious. "How long has it been for you, Mulder?"

"Anywhere between six and six-and-a-half inches," he grinned. She poked him in the side again, but shared his smartass laughter. "Ok. Ok," he said, turning thoughtful. "I think Reagan was still president."

"Seriously, Mulder," she said. "Let's get this out in the open. I don't want to jump into this case with you all wound up. We could be walking into a potentially dangerous situation here, and I'll need to be sure you can watch my back."

He bit his lip but couldn't stop himself saying, "Oh, I frequently watch your back, Scully. Probably too often for my own safety." She smirked at the double entendre, and they soon fell into a new brand of tense silence.

The car hummed, and the endless forest whizzed past. Their breaths rose and fell laboriously. Minutes wandered by. Mulder took up his squirming habit again, and Scully picked imaginary lint off her immaculate suit. He pushed the air-conditioning to its maximum and aimed the cool blast at his face and body. He coughed, and she cleared her throat. Their clothes seemed to constrict, and the car suddenly felt very stifling.

At last, she broke the silence. "Look. We clearly have a state of mutual attraction," she said, sounding almost clinical. "We've both snuck little looks and entertained harmless fantasies." His eyebrow shot up.

She dodged quickly. "We're tense and distracted. As a physician, I cannot allow us to enter a dangerous situation when we are not mentally and physically at our professional peaks." A provocative smirk teased the corner of her mouth. "Pull over, Mulder."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, already slowing on the shoulder.

Before the car had stopped completely, she was over him, desperately pressing her lips to his. She delighted in the taste of him, and he found her kiss more silky and passionate than ever he had imagined. Trying to wrap her arms around his shoulders, she shifted and honked the horn with her elbow. Her mouth pulled at his, and he gave in utterly. She was in control. Their suits felt as ill-tailored and as liberating as strait-jackets; they fought with buttons and snaps, desperate to unlock each other.

His hands tilled her hair, cool and silken. Humming as his fingers roamed, she focused every coil of stress, every knot of tension upon the kiss. Her lips wanted to push and pull his mouth in every direction, as though the moment might be dispelled at any time. She wanted to make every second sing while the masks were aside and pure passion still held the moment.

The kiss persisting, they could feel each other's pulse, taste each other's breath. Mulder tasted a melange of coffee and chocolate, Scully a cool hint of black licorice. To the wild rhythm of her release, her lips led his in a swirling, tireless dance.

Eyes closed, Mulder immersed himself in the mad electricity flowing and sparking through his body. He hoped he wasn't in a motel room dreaming and making a mess of the bed. When warm fingertips snaked into his shirt and teased through his chest hair, his eyes sprang open and were instantly ensnared by hers. She peered right into him, snatching up every secret he ever had and freely sharing her own.

She found his belief that the moment was something he had anticipated, that he had brought to fruition amusing. She was in control. On a whim, she suddenly ended the kiss, adoring the drunken, heavy-eyed cast of his face. Her lips throbbed, and fire spread through her skin. She grinned triumphantly. Before his lips could recover long enough to form a word, she grasped that aching bulge in his lap. He groaned luxuriously but managed to match her hard gaze.

With some fumbling, she soon had his erection free and admired it for little more than a second before taking it deep in her mouth. Moaning in disbelief, he arched his back and continued to sift his fingers through her hair. She laughed at herself, but the fiery moment reigned--and for the moment, she was at its whim. Her mouth rose and fell upon him, building a devastating rhythm. It seemed like ages since she had done this, since she had put research and work aside long enough to be wild for a few moments. She adored it. His hands were gentle, almost weightless in her hair, and his moans filled the car with strange, raspy music.

She drew back and smirked up at him. His eyes slowly rolled back down to earth, and he matched her disbelieving smile. "Do you think you could turn off the air-conditioning?" she said. "I feel like I'm working on a cadaver, and that's not something I really want to think about at the moment." He laughed and turned of the engine. Complete silence surrounded them.

Scully locked her eyes with his as she kissed slowly up and down his cock and took the full length into her mouth once more. Preceded by the crunch of gravel underfoot, a sudden knock on the driver's window scared the hell out of them. The chrome sunglasses and trademark hat of a highway patrol officer loomed in the window.

At lightning speed, Mulder and Scully had themselves relatively back in order by the time the window rolled down. The officer's face was grim and his sarcasm was thick when he said, "You folks having car trouble?"

Mulder coughed and flipped out his ID, the badge upside down. "Special agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI," he wheezed, trying to sound official. "We've been assigned to investigate some deaths up in Alpena."

Please advance to Part Two of "Millstones" by Cynthia J

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