Phoebe Returns by qIra JulIyan

Phoebe Returns by qIra

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Phoebe Returns by qIra

Special Agent Mulder's mind was back at the office as he stepped from the elevator on the floor where he lived. Chewing on a case presented to him by his partner Scully that morning, the brain did not register familiar walls, nor doors to other apartments. His fingers went automatically into his pants for his keys, and the door key almost touched the lock before he realized his door hung half an inch ajar.

On reflex he stepped back and flattened himself against the wall. Heart pounding, he went to his holster for the gun. If an intruder lurked, he wouldn't for long. The door opened on silent hinges as he pushed gently and advanced into the first room, gun held straight before him. It was dark. Silent. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he paused his breath for a second to hear the slightest sound.

Nothing.

He moved farther in. The kitchen was empty. Cereal bowl and spoon were still in the drainer. The faucet dripped onto the worn spot in the sink enamel. He moved past the window to the inner room and peeked. Nothing visible. He stepped into the room and lowered his gun toward the corner to his right.

Nothing.

Huh. He relaxed and lowered the weapon. A quick check of his belongings showed nothing was obviously missing. And if the place had been searched it was by someone who cared deeply that he not know it. Someone not likely to leave the door ajar.

"Hello."

Mulder jumped nearly out of his skin and spun on the voice with his gun almost fired. Instinct suggested he hold. A good thing.

"Phoebe," he whispered. The familiar voice had thwarted his reflex, but just barely. A small part of him wished he'd fired. He lowered the pistol anyway and slipped it back into its holster.

"Don't shoot, Mulder. I'm harmless." Her eyes were wide. Faux innocence. She'd no doubt opened his door and left it for him to find, just to jerk his chain. "You really should pay more attention to your surroundings, Fox." He tensed under her ridicule as she blithely ragged on him in the guise of good natured teasing. "You walked right past me; I was standing next to the wall by the elevator. I could have..."

"What do you want, Phoebe?" He had a pretty good idea, but didn't want to give it up to her.

She walked into his arms and he stiffened. "I want to apologise."

He fought the desire to press his arms around her, and instead leaned away. "For what?"

"For the way I treated you last time I saw you." She leaned back at the waist to look into his eyes and pressed herself to his crotch. The washed silk blouse was open at the neck and he could see she wore no bra. Memories warred in him; some horrible and some delicious. This woman was warm flesh and cold stone all at once, just like that day long ago on the tomb of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A flash of recollection brought an urge to kiss her.

Instead he took her hands from his waist and stepped back. "It's quite all right, Phoebe. No hard feelings. Literally."

"Don't tell me you're upset about..."

"No. I'm not upset." He turned to the window to get away from her, but what he needed was a way out of that tiny apartment. He turned back. She stood in the only door to the small room. "I would have to have cared in the first place to be upset now."

Her eyes narrowed and she peered at him. "You are upset. I can tell."

"What's to be upset about? You came, you jerked my chain, you left. Business as usual."

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Fingertips touched his sternum and sent a shiver down his belly into his pants.

A lame grin struggled to his face. "I'm not hurt!" He wanted desperately to get past her and out of the apartment; to just leave her there and hope she would be gone when...if he ever returned.

"I might believe it if you weren't shouting it."

The muscles in his jaw stood out in knots. How he wished he could tell her to just get the hell out! But he couldn't behave like such a boor any more than he could piss in his pants. "Phoebe, I'm tired; it's been a long day."

"Then, by all means, relax. Take off your jacket and make yourself at home." She reached for his lapels and pulled his jacket from his shoulders. "Ah! But you are at home!"

"Phoebe..." He took his jacket and folded it, then laid it over the back of a chair.

"Fox, are you going to be a gentleman and accept my apology?"

"I'm not hur..."

She reached up and drew his head down to kiss him.

He'd known this was coming, and he knew he was helpless. He kissed her back with enthusiasm that swelled in shocking strength. Her full mouth was so soft, and brought back memories of such abandon his head spun. He felt like a kid again, besotted with this woman who could take him to heaven in a heartbeat while the world spun away beneath.

"Fox, I've missed you."

He didn't answer, but his hand hovered over her cheek. Wanting to touch her but not wanting to want it, he shivered.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I want to make it up to you." She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek.

A barrier within him crumbled. He kissed her deeply, her face held between his hands like a grail from which he drank. She urged his mouth wider and her tongue sparred with his. The blood sang in his veins. His head spun. Trembling, he lifted her in his arms and set her on the leather couch.

Her eyelids were heavy as she drew him down with her. She kicked off her shoes and helped him with his belt. His one elbow shook under his weight as his other hand fumbled with his pants. Shoes clunked to the floor. Belt buckle jingled as he shed everything from the waist down. She wriggled out of her skirt beneath him and he settled between her legs, hard against her soft, curly hair. Heart pounding, he lay still and watched her slowly unbutton her blouse, which then fell open to either side of her full breasts. Like pale aspic they jiggled, firm and creamy. With a moan deep in his chest he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked.

Her voice was a dark whisper. "Good boy. Lovely boy." In her voice he could hear what he was doing to her and it sent shivers through him. His tongue teased her nipple into a knot. The soft flesh of her breast pressed against his nose and his breaths made a blowing sound against her skin. The pain and effort of the day behind him left as his soul filled with soaring delight. His eyelids drooped and all the world's edges became fuzzy and soft. Like a drugged man, he barely felt her unbutton his shirt and pull his tie through then slip them from his shoulders. But when he felt his bare chest against her belly his skin rose in goosebumps. With a moan he let go of her breast and slipped up to press himself hard against her curly patch. His swollen lips sucked on her red mouth and his tongue went inside. He was twenty-three again and the world suddenly revolved around his body and what wonderful things he could do with it.

She shoved him back. Vision bleary, he obeyed with only a small whimper. Her hand pressed to his chest, she pushed him over onto his back at the other end of the couch. Then she knelt between his feet and pressed his thighs apart.

Oh, God. His head fell back over the armrest as she took him into her mouth. Her tongue licked, then she pulled with a long suck. Again with the lick against that crazy spot just under the head, and another pull. Muscles in his thighs jerked. His chest heaved. Each pull brought him so close he didn't know whether to warn her or to hope she would swallow him.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand any more, she let go of him and with a parting kiss to the tip pressed his knees back down to the leather upholstery. In an instant she straddled him and settled over him.

Colors danced before his eyes and he held her waist to shove himself farther in. His head came up from the armrest in a convulsion of ecstacy. She held his chin and urged his head back, then bent to lick his nipple. His hands gripped the armrest to either side of his head, and as her tongue touched his other nipple he thrust and raised her several inches.

"Shhh, let me do the work," she whispered into his ear.

He tried to relax, but every muscle trembled. He wished he could shove his entire body into her. So warm around him!

Her fingernails touched his nipples and his chest heaved for breath. She moved, her hips undulating. He was going to come any second, but he knew he didn't dare.

In one swift movement, he pulled her to him and slipped her under him as he rolled to the top. Still embedded, he then shoved himself hard into her.

She moaned. This was what she liked. He reached down to open her wide, and shoved in deeper. Her heels dug into his back, urging him on. She writhed beneath him as he shoved again and again. His breaths heaved from him. Her long, thin cry sent him over. The world went black. His body shuddered as he gave himself up to her. He kept moving, unwilling to end this.

If it ended, he would have to talk to her.

"Mulder?" Scully's voice came from the other room.

"Mulder, your door was open..."

The world came suddenly into painful focus and Mulder made a grab for his pants just as Scully entered the room.

She stopped, eyes wide, and her mouth dropped open.

"Scul..." He covered himself with the wadded fabric and stood. The belt jangled to the floor. As she stared, he felt more naked than he'd ever been in his life.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She turned to leave, her cheeks flaming.

"Don't go."

"Mulder..." Phoebe's voice had that ugly, controlling quality.

Scully turned back, but kept her eyes averted. "I'll just wait out here so you can get dressed." She went into the other room.

Mulder turned to Phoebe and gestured for her to get dressed. Her eyes flashed toward the door. "Are you banging her?"

He gave a simple head shake. Then he pulled his pants on and picked his shirt up off the floor. Phoebe pulled her clothes on, irritation in her every movement. Then, ready to go, she turned to Mulder and gave him a kiss. It was painful on his swollen mouth. He watched her leave.

Scully peeked around the door frame. "You decent?" "Yeah." He pulled his shirt on and buttoned it as Scully came in. "Sorry about that, Scully."

"How come?" Her mouth was trying to smile, but her cheeks were still red and she looked a little wall-eyed.

"She took me by surprise."

"Ambushed you, huh? Forced you onto the couch?" She made a reach for the phone. "Should I call the police, tell them you've been raped?"

"No, Scully..."

"It's okay, Mulder. No big deal." She hooked her hair behind one ear and stared around the room at everything but Mulder. "I shouldn't have walked in like that. I heard noises, but I thought you were watching a movie. I'll knock next time."

Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but knew there was nothing to say that would make sense. Scully was his partner, not his lover.

But somehow he sensed something would never be quite right between them again.

end