Uroborus V: Dana Scores
by Bobbi & BasBleu

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

This is part 5 of a 5 part series titled Uroborus, written by Bobbi and Basbleu. The stories are in the following order:

Sins | Killing the Demon | MacGuffin | Fear | Dana Scores

While reading these stories is not essential to understanding the plot of this tryst (because there is none), it is helpful to have some prior knowledge of who the hell these people are.

Disclaimer: Oh what the hell, we know what we're doing is wrong. But Cancerman made us do it. We don't own these characters (except for three: Cait McHale and Trey Boudreaux belong to BasBleu and Melissa Palmer belongs to Bobbi), and sex is in the public domain. This work as a whole Copyright 1997 Bobbi and BasBleu.

Some of you may find that this story is not exactly consistant with the other four Uroborus stories. Well, our true personalities had to come out sometime, didn't they? (And after two days surrounded by Marines and FBI Agents, we needed the relief.)

---

Dana Scores
by BasBleu & Bobbi
(hopeless ero-man-tics)

The Out There Lounge
10th Street, Washington, D.C.
Friday
6:00 p.m.

"Hey, Baby. I'll give you fifty bucks for your panties." A loud male voice rang out behind them as they entered the bar.

"Save it and buy yourself a penis, you cretin." Cait shot back.

"I was offered thirty in New York, once." Scully muttered, as she looked around. "Where's Melissa? I told her six o' clock."

"There she is." Cait pointed to a back booth near a scarred upright piano at the brunette waving at them with one hand, a brown bottle in the other.

They wormed their way through the patrons, Cait first with Scully following. Cait's size compelled the crowd to part, allowing both of them through. Scully tried not to squirm under the overt stares from the men in the crowd. Cait was oblivious.

Melissa scooted over to allow Scully room next to her. "Nice place, huh?"

"Yeah, great." Cait muttered, wrinkling her nose at the sticky table under her hands.

"You got here early." Scully observed, signaling the waitress.

"I finished up at the White House earlier than I expected." Melissa explained. "But I can only stay until eight; Mulder said he'd be done by then Oh, and if either of you are too blitzed to drive, he said he'd drive you home."

"How convenient." Cait intoned, turning to the waitress as she came by, ordering a single malt Scotch while Scully ordered a beer and Melissa ordered a round of Goldschlager shots for the table. "I may have to revise my opinion of your partner." She said to Scully.

"He's not that bad, Cait." Scully defended him.

Cait shrugged, grinned, "I know. But he's so fun to fuck around with."

"I'll say." Melissa took a swig of her beer, waggling her eyebrows at the other two women.

"You'd know." Cait laughed, "How much of that have you had?"She gestured to Melissa's beer.

Melissa held up one finger, saying, "Two" then dissolved in a fit of giggles.

"Lightweight." Scully grinned.

Melissa shook her head, "I had a salad for lunch. And did I mention I got here early?"

"And started the celebration way before us, I see."

The waitress returned with their drinks and a basket of pretzels which Cait slid over to Melissa. "Soak up some of that beer."

Melissa happily complied by stuffing a handful of pretzels into her mouth.

Scully raised her small glass, "I'd like to propose a toast: To Cait--Welcome back to D.C. And may all of your perps be human."

"Hear, hear." Melissa crunched around a mouthful of pretzels and Cait ducked to evade the ensuing onslaught of flying crumbs.

"Oops." Melissa giggled. They clinked their glasses together and threw back the shots.

From behind them, Aretha Franklin moaned about being a "do right woman" from the jukebox. "How's the cottage?" Scully asked, lifting her beer bottle to her lips.

Cait's eyes lit up. "It's incredible. It's exactly what I wanted. I really lucked out." The small cottage she'd recently moved into on the outskirts of the city was a rare find.

"Luck? I'd like some of that luck. You've been here a week and already you have your own office." Scully pouted. "And I'm still sharing one with Mulder."

"Have you shown off your new office to Skinner?" Melissa asked, remembering that they were good friends.

Cait looked away, her hands tightening around her glass. "I haven't seen him in a while."

Scully halted the mouth of the bottle a millimeter from her lips. "You've been here a week and he hasn't been by to see you or congratulate you?"

"Oh no, he's done that." Cait took a sip of Scotch, grimaced. "I ran into him in the hall my first day and he told me my father would have been proud of me. Then he strode off to a meeting. Or something."

"That's weird. I thought you two were really close." Melissa piped in.

Again, Cait looked uncomfortable. "We were. Are. Oh shit, I don't know what we are anymore." She buried her face in her hands.

Scully reached across to touch Cait's arm. "Cait, what happened?"

Cait's fingers spread, slipped down her face. She just recently seemed to have lost the ability to hide her feelings. One look at her distraught eyes and Scully knew immediately what happened.

"Oh no." Scully's hand covered her mouth, suppressing the urge ... to laugh. Either the alcohol went right to her head or the image of her boss's bald head, gleaming from the exertion of sex, struck her as hilarious.

"Oh no, what?" Melissa asked, lost. "Scully? Cait?"

Cait's hands crossed on the table as she leaned forward. "Walter and I got a little closer than normal friends do."

Melissa's eyes widened and one word came out of her mouth.

"Eeeww!"

And with that, Scully lost her tenuous control of her laughter. It bubbled out of her while tears streamed from her eyes, until Cait's wadded up napkin hit her square on the nose. Which set Melissa off.

Cait stared at them as they hugged each other while they laughed, trying too hard to maintain her own composure.

"It's not funny." She said, looking away as her own lips threatened to curve.

"Oh god, I'm sorry." Scully hiccuped. "It's just the thought of Skinner doing something so ... "

"Human?" Cait filled in for her. "Oh, he's human, alright. And, damn it, so am I."

Both Melissa and Scully did their best to sober quickly, realizing Cait's turmoil.

"So, what's so bad about it, really?" Melissa asked. "He was your friend before he was your boss. And he's not your direct superior. Exactly." She tried to justify it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Cait searched for the right words to express what she felt. "I did, though. After."

"What'd you do?" This from Scully.

"I left, before he woke up." Cait confessed. "I don't know why, I guess I was afraid. For the first time in my life, I feared what someone was going to think of me. And I ran." She smiled wryly. "Not very mature, huh?"

"Have the two of you talked about it?" Melissa could not bear to see the usually unflappable Cait in this state.

Cait shook her head. "I think he tried, back when I was here for my interview."

"And?" Melissa prompted.

"I couldn't. I lost it. I told him it was a pity-fuck, asked him if that made him feel better. And now...Quantum mutatus ab illo.*" she shrugged, "I don't know how to act around him. I thought I would, could just act like nothing happened, like it was just what it was, nothing more, nothing less."

"But ..." Scully heard the implication.

"But," Cait knew she had to be honest with herself and her friends, "I want more. I want it to happen again."

Melissa reached across, her hand settled on Cait's. She smiled, "That good, huh?"

Cait uttered a short bark of laughter, nodding. "Yes--that good."

Before she could continue, a cell phone rang. All three women reached into respective jacket pockets and briefcases.

"It's me." Cait answered her phone. "McHale...Oh, hey, Trey! Where are you?...Really?...Great, you can come meet us. We're at the Out There Lounge, on 10th street, across from the Ford Theatre." She related the address of the bar while Scully got up to use the ladies room.

When she returned, Cait and Melissa were deep in conversation about an upcoming Presidential event.

"I really hate those things. All these politicians get together to schmooze. I mean, why bother? Everyone knows they hate each other's guts anyway. And the security is hell. I always said that if terrorists really wanted to cripple America, all they'd have to do is send a kamikaze pilot into a social function. With us all dressed up in tuxes and gowns, it's impossible to move or do anything. And those holsters that strap around your thigh. Ugh."

"Oh, c'mon, Melissa. They're not that bad." Scully good-naturedly argued.

"Think about it: it's the only time you'll have nine long, hard, powerful inches between your thighs that won't go off unless you want it to." Cait laughed.

Melissa's eyes widened as she saw the appeal.

"You are so bad." Scully playfully slapped Cait's hand.

"No, just repressed." She looked at their empty glasses. "Next round's on me." Cait signaled the waitress.

Three shots and four beers later, Scully turned from the bar, meandering between tables, trying not to drop her round of drinks. A hand reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her down on a male lap.

"Hey, li'l darlin'." A man in a Stetson drawled in her ear. "My friends and I are taking bets on whether or not you're a real redhead. Mind settlin' it for us?"

Three other red-faced, cowboy-hat wearing, drunks leered at her.

"You're not really giving me a choice in the matter, are you?" Scully complained as she struggled in the man's grip. "No, thanks."

"Aw, c'mon, li'l darlin'." The man laughed, gripping her tighter.

"No, really. I'd like to get up now, take these drinks to my friends." She nodded her head in Cait and Melissa's direction. They sat at the piano, wailing about R-E-S-P-E-C-T, totally oblivious to her predicament.

"They look like they're doin' just fine without you. Why don't you stay and let us see if what they say about redheads is true. You do know what they say about redheads, don't you, little lady?" The Texan's Jack Daniels laced breath was a harsh as his grip.

Scully, patience at an end, deposited three glasses of beer on the table, before turning back to angle a well-placed elbow into the man's sternum. With an "oof" his grip slackened, but he didn't let go. Scully raised her foot then stamped down, her heel grinding into the man's calf. Then he let her go and she jumped off his lap, turned and grabbed him by the bolo around his neck, pulling his face close to hers. He gagged a little.

"I'm no lady." She snarled at him, then let go, watching him snap back into his seat.

"Now wait a god damn minute ..." The Texan rose from his chair, towering over Scully, and she instinctively took a step back.

"Sir, I'd leave the lady alone if I were you." The man to whom the voice belonged stepped between them.

He wasn't as tall as the Texan but he was tall enough to block Scully's view of the Neanderthal. All she could see was thick hair as red as her own and a pair of shoulders bursting the seams of a white shirt, broad shoulders that tapered down to a trim waist, wide strong hips and one of the best butts on a man that Scully had ever seen, poured into a pair of tight--really tight, god, how tight were they?--faded blue jeans.

"Jesus." She breathed, lusting immediately.

The man's head turned to look at her over his shoulder, a grin splitting a friendly face, showing white teeth. "One moment, 'tite ange."

He turned back to the Texan and must have said something--Scully was too busy blushing and trying to regain her composure to pay attention--because when she looked up again, the hat had disappeared and she was being propelled by a firm grip on her elbow away from the rednecks' table.

"Now wait a minute," Scully sputtered, yanking her arm from the stranger's grasp and glaring into the most amazing pair of blue eyes she'd ever seen. "I was handling it just fine before you came along. I don't need anyone protecting me from the likes of him."

The stranger only grinned in response and Scully's knees immediately turned to water. "Ch�re, I was only protecting him from you. And I told him so, let him know how embarrassed he'd be if he had his ass kicked by une petite jolie fille." The words rolled off his tongue in a melodious Cajun accent.

Scully didn't quite know how to respond. Looking up, she was again drawn to the stranger's eyes, now sparkling with an appealing humor. Her lips curved too as he looked back at her. "Fine. Thanks."

He nodded, turned, and looked around the bar.

Oh, god, what a butt! Scully thought, then gave in to a nagging voice in her head. "Hey! Hey, Sexy!" She repeated herself to get his attention.

The stranger turned, raising an eyebrow at her obvious come on.

"Can I buy you a drink ... in appreciation for what you did?"

The stranger looked surprised. "Merci beaucoup, ma belle. But I'm driving someone home and a drink would not be so conducive to a safe trip, non?"

"No. Yes. Damn." Scully muttered, pretty sure that he was meeting a woman. "Oh well--c'est la vie." She shrugged, then saw his eyes light up even more, his attention on someone behind her. Great, she's right behind me and she's probably seen me lusting after her boyfriend.

Scully turned and saw ...

Cait.

Grinning Cait.

"Hey, etalon!" Cait said, proceeding to wrap the man in a tight hug, which he returned with equal fervor, "Enough Cajun charm. My friend is going to need a bucket to catch her drool."

"Friend?" The stranger asked, his eyes giving Scully another once over, before his grin got so big, Scully thought his face would split.

Scully, in turn, searched her limited French vocabulary for what "etalon" meant. Some sort of horse, she thought.

"Trey Boudreaux, meet Dana Scully. Dana, Trey, my ex-partner." Cait performed the introductions.

"Scully? Of 'Mulder and Scully' fame?" Trey asked, delighted. She was gorgeous, this little spitfire and, from what he had heard, her other attributes included brainy, brave and brilliant.

Scully turned back to the stranger--Trey--mouth agape. "You're ... She ..." She blushed redder than her hair and Trey was completely charmed. Before he could respond, Melissa bounded over, colliding with Cait.

"Oops." She laughed, hugging Cait, "Sorry to bust up the little menage, but it's time for me to meet up with my eye-talon." She slaughtered the French word.

"Would someone please tell me that means?"Scully asked.

"My little stud-muffin."Melissa grinned.

Scully looked at Trey, eyes wide in surprise.

"It's just a nickname. I was being totally fa…fa…" Cait tried, brow wrinkling as she tried to form the word with drink-numbed lips.

"Facetious." Trey supplied, hoping to salvage his reputation in front of a woman he admired and hoped to impress. "Alright, that's it. I'm taking you home, all of you."

"Shotgun!!!!" Melissa screamed.

Cait promptly threw an arm around her and clamped a hand across her mouth as she noticed several of the bar's patrons turn and stare in their direction. "No. You're riding in the back with me." Cait insisted, having noticed Trey's cow-eyed regard of Scully and curious to see how nature would proceed, with a little help.

Melissa pouted while leaning on Cait to stay upright. Then, her eyes brightened. "Oh yeah�I'm only going two blocks."

"One." Cait corrected.

"Then I can walk." Melissa let go of Cait and took careful steps forward, tripping over a nearby chair.

Trey took Melissa's arm. "Why don't I escort you to the car?"

"Okay." Melissa agreed. "But my mother told me never to accept rides from strangers. So, please introduce yourself first."

Trey told her who he was while walking out of the bar, an arm supporting Melissa, while Scully and Cait followed, supporting each other.

The ride to the Hoover building was short and Scully, occupying the "shotgun" position, convinced the guard to let them park Trey's car in the basement garage.

As soon as the car stopped, Melissa flung the door open and promptly fell out.

"Maybe I'd better help her inside. "Cait said, opening her own door and walking around to Melissa's side where her inebriated friend had managed to pull herself up and was hanging onto the door, a dazed look in her eye.

"Whoever knew the ground was that close." Melissa muttered to herself.

Cait swung an arm around her waist. "C'mon. What did you do�spend all your time at Quantico in The Boardroom with the National Academy?"

Melissa leaned on Cait. "Thanks, Cait. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're such a great friend. I love you. And you." She looked back at Scully and Trey. "I just love you guys."

Cait slammed the door shut and Scully and Trey could hear her reminding Melissa that they were still F.B.I. agents and had to act accordingly, as they were held to a higher standard of dignity, even on personal time.

Like Hoover.

The sound of a raspberry filled the garage, followed by Melissa's giggle.

There was an awkward silence after Cait and Melissa left. Scully looked out of the corner of her eye at the man beside her, one elbow on the windowsill, his head resting on his hand, watching the departing figures of his ex-partner and his new best friend.

Or so she thought.

"Agent Scully, are you checking me out?" He asked, his attention still focused ahead.

Damn, Scully thought, again feeling the blood rush into her face. Caught.

This time he did look at her. "I didn't think women did that anymore."

"What?' Scully asked, her brain foggy.

His hand reached out, stroked her flaming cheek. "Blush."

"I don't usually." Scully protested. "But ,then, I don't usually drink and do stupid things in public either."

"I haven't seen you do a stupid thing yet. And there's nothing wrong with drinking and having a good time. As they say where I come from, laissez le bon temps rouler!" Trey couldn't help smiling at her. She looked so beautiful and so miserable at the same time. "But, a word to the wise: Cait can drink almost anyone under the table. She inherited her father's constitution. It's usually not a good idea to try to keep up with her."

"Where were you with that great advice two hours ago?" Scully groaned as the car spun around her.

Trey looked at her, worry etched in his frowning forehead. "Are you okay, Dana?"

She shook her head. "I have bed spins and I'm not even lying down. But maybe if I do lie down, I won't have them. Would you mind?" Without waiting for an answer, she slid down sideways and rested her head in his lap. Closing her eyes, she sighed, "There, that's better."

He jumped a little as she snuggled into his thigh. His free hand hesitated then settled on her hair, stroking the shining mass lightly.

He could feel her cheek curve against his thigh. "That's nice," she murmured.

They sat that way for a while, Scully waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass.

"How long were you and Cait partners?" She asked, a little uncomfortable with the silence.

"Four years." Trey answered, softly, enjoying the rich texture of Scully's hair between his fingers. "I'm really going to miss her, but it's better for her, non?"

Scully nodded, stopped as she realized that made the dizziness worse. "I know I'd really miss Mulder if we were split up again."

"I hope I'll meet your partner this time around. I missed y'all the last time, when you were helping Cait with her snake case."

Scully frowned, remembering how that case had ended. Trey noticed.

"Cait--she has a lot of respect for you because of what you did. You did what you were trained to do. I mean, we're taught at the academy that if you shoot, you shoot to kill. Your partner was in danger and you saved his life."

Scully moved her head again, wondering why it was so difficult to stay comfortable in Trey's lap. It took only a second for her to realize why. Slowly, she raised her head to look at him.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"You're all lumpy." Well, it wasn't the exact medical term for his condition, but it was the best she could do at the moment.

It was his turn to blush--he'd hoped she wouldn't notice. It was awkward enough for him but now that she'd brought it up--or had he?--he felt even more uncomfortable.

"Sorry." He apologized. "I'm not really used to brilliant, beautiful women sleeping in my lap."

She raised an eyebrow at him, quizzically. "You think I'm beautiful?"

He seemed shocked that she asked. "You don't realize that?"

"I have red hair and freckles and ... " She stopped, flustered as Trey laughed.

"'tite ange, what's wrong with that?" he asked, gesturing to his own similar features.

"Nothing, I guess. Only ... only...well.. Cait, Cait's beautiful." Scully insisted, "I mean, we walked into that bar tonight and every man there was staring at Cait. The only naked men I've gotten close to in the past three years have been , well, dead."

"Cait's a freak." Trey argued, "Or so she always says." He added, seeing that Scully may have taken that as an insult. "But you, you're like ... like some powerful pagan sun goddess, gloriously radiant and ..."

He was stopped by her lips descending on his, her little hand resting on his cheek. He kissed her back as fully as he could, wondering what Dana would think if she saw his lap how. Apparently, she was curious too as her hand slipped from his cheek, down his chest and into his lap.

He jerked a little as her hand closed around him, through his jeans, then he moaned as she stroked him.

"Dana, I..." he pulled back from kissing her, wondering if she really knew what she was doing. "I..." Merde, she was looking him with those big blue eyes.

"It's been too damn long since I've done this." She said, taking the opportunity to hike up her skirt and straddle him. Her hands cupped both his cheeks. "Please, Trey. I won't regret this."

He hesitated a moment, could feel her pulse against him, and smiled. "First rule of being a Southern gentleman--always do whatever a lady asks you to do. Viens ici, ma belle." He reached for her, bringing her head down so he could taste her again. His hands busily worked at the buttons of her blouse, reached inside to cup her breasts, as his tongue busily explored her mouth.

She moaned and leaned back against the steering wheel and he buried his face between the two satin-covered globes, nuzzling aside the bra, letting his mouth close on first one than the other rose-coloured peak of her nipples. She arched in his hands, squirming in his lap, as he suckled.

Her hands busied themselves with his belt, his zipper, and he raised his hips with a groan, allowing her to slide off his suddenly too tight jeans and boxer shorts. She rose up on her knees, allowing him to maneuver off her silk panties. She braced her hands on his shoulders and fluidly descended onto him, shuddering as he smoothly impaled her. She threw her head back and, with a smile, started riding him, slowly at first then with increasing speed, her hips moving in a circular motion. Trey's fingers flexed and dug into her hips as he tried to still her pace, but she was in complete control.

He felt her close around him, sporadically, heard her cry of satisfaction in his ear just as he felt his own climax. Her body trembled and he wrapped his arms around her to still his own shaking.

"Bon dieu avoir pitié." He gasped.

It took Cait and Melissa a while to get into the building. Cait realized she had left her keys in her briefcase which she subsequently left in Trey's car and Melissa discovered she hadn't brought hers at all. They had to walk from the basement, around the building, to the main entrance and then had to convince the security guards that they were really and truly bonafide FBI agents, albeit inebriated ones, with real badges. Finally, one of the guards recognized Cait and let them both in. They started down the stairs to the basement.

"Where the hell are the lights?" Melissa griped, stumbling for the second time on the dimly lit stairs.

"Budget cuts." Cait gripped Melissa's elbow, stopping her from falling again.

They turned a corner and almost collided with the man coming up the stairs from the basement.

"Oops!" Melissa giggled as they stepped back and she lost her balance, sitting down on the stairs. She looked up�way up�and said "uh-oh" as she recognized the stern countenance of Walter S. Skinner staring down at her. For just a moment, she could see why Cait was so attracted to him as she took in his trenchcoated figure, looming over them, dark and dangerous.

Cait, on the other hand, was silent, immediately sobering. Unexpected sexual need pummeled her solar plexus and oozed lower. For a moment, she and Skinner simply stared at each other.

Melissa, feeling the sexual tension spark off them, abruptly excused herself. "Time to go." She sang. "I'm wearing too much hair spray to be around these flying sparks." She muttered, and started stumbling down the stairs to Mulder's basement office, suddenly feeling the need to release some sexual tension of her own.

Melissa threw open the door of the office and stepped inside, shouting, "Honey, I'm home," before falling into a chair next to Mulder's desk. "Hey!" She looked around, realizing the office was empty. "Where are you? I do have the right office, don't I?"

Mulder walked into the office, his glasses perched on his nose. He took one look at Melissa and started laughing, "I'm sorry, I thought I heard my girlfriend�a reserved, well-respected rather inhibited lawyer/FBI agent�in here. Apparently she's been abducted by aliens and replaced by a drunken clone."

"No, it's just me." She giggled.

"Just checking." He smiled and bent down to give her a kiss.

Melissa tried to pull him down on top of her, felling rather frisky, but he pulled back. "Hey…" She protested.

"In a few minutes. I have to call Frohike."

"Now?" She pouted.

"Yes, now. It won't take long."

Melissa frowned but relented. "Okay." She looked around the office and spied a squirt bottle of water. "Ah hah." She was suffering from the worst case of cotton mouth.

Mulder sat in his desk chair and dialed.

Melissa rolled her chair in the general direction of the bottle, overshooting the water by two feet and slamming into the file cabinet.

Mulder looked up in surprise and smiled, shaking his head. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy." Melissa laughed loudly and carefully made her way towards the water bottle.

"Hi, Frohike." Mulder turned his attention back to the phone.

"HI FROHIKE!!!" Melissa shouted across the room.

"Hey, Mulder, who's the babe?" Frohike asked. "Some hot chick?"

"No hot chick." Mulder smiled. "It's just Melissa."

Melissa squirted the water bottle in his direction before focusing her attention solely on the water she craved.

"Calling for a reason, Mulder?" Frohike asked.

Mulder started explaining to Frohike the latest satellite picture he'd found but found himself staring at Melissa.

She was playing with the squirt bottle, shooting water up into the air and trying to catch it with her mouth. Finding that method unsuccessful, and that she'd grabbed Mulder's attention, she slid the spout of the bottle between her lips and sucked it down, her eyes never leaving Mulder's.

Mulder's eyes widened and Melissa rolled her chair closer to his. She stopped the chair in front of him and placed one foot on each arm of Mulder's chair, entrapping him with her legs.

Mulder stared at the million dollar view and wondered what happened to Melissa's underwear.

"Getting off the phone yet, Mulder?" She maneuvered one leg to rest between Mulder's thighs, pressing lightly against his bulge with the ball of her foot.

"Soon." He promised, squirming under the pressure.

Not soon enough, Melissa thought, and stroked him with her toes.

His eyelids fluttered shut and she could see his throat tightening. God, she loved that look on his face.

"No, go on, Frohike. I'm listening." He said, lowering his hand to Melissa's foot to stop its playful teasing.

Fine, she mouthed, and slid her foot away to its previous position on the arm of his chair.

She had to do something to get his attention. She was horny, damn it, and she wanted to feel him sliding into her. She assessed his chair, realized that it wouldn't hold the both of them and discarded the idea of leaping into his lap and humping him with his clothes still on. No, she needed to be more subtle than that.

She smiled slyly as an idea formed.

Her raised her hands to the back of her neck and slowly, slid them down forward, down the front of her body, cupping her breasts. Mulder's eyes moved, watching her hands, but he continued talking to Frohike, his voice husky.

She slipped one hand inside the low neckline of her blouse while her other hand continued down and rested in her lap. Her own fingers pushed aside the lacy bra covering her breast and her own thumb started to stroke her already erect nipple.

She moaned, thrilled to discover that she wasn't faking. The look in Mulder's eyes as he followed her every movement turned her on so much that she didn't need much more to feel pleasure. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Mulder's hand on her breast and breathed his name.

The chair squeaked as his body jerked at the sound of his name on her lips.

Her other hand moved from her lap to her thigh and she started grazing her fingernails in tight spirals on the soft skin, moving in meandering ellipses to the juncture of her hip and thigh. Her hand dipped under her skirt and she scooted forward a little more in her chair, her feet braced against Mulder's, her skirt riding up more, giving Mulder a clearer view of her flushed sex.

She opened her eyes and saw his eyes darken, his face contort with that intense expression it wore whenever he was aroused, his attention focused on her moving hand. She smiled at him, letting her hand rest on her cunt, busy fingers stroking herself from clit to the small slit of her ass. She could feel the tension mounting in the small of her back and wriggled in her chair, trying to get comfortable. Experimenting, she slid her index finger into herself, clenched her own muscles around it, and smiled at the control she had over her own body.

She heard Mulder's quick intake of breath as the finger slid out, wet, then in again. Her middle finger joined it. She maneuvered her the heel of her hand it could rest on her clit, and started moving it in tiny circles, alternating the pressure while her fingers slid in and out of her.

Eyes closed, she moaned. "Oh, Fox" as she imagined that it was him in her, moving with agonizing slowness, letting the pulsing in her body grow, expand, as she fucked herself, her hips jackknifing up and her fingers plunging. Her breath started coming in little gasps as she felt the tension build. Her other hand left her breast and reached up to grip the back of her chair which started to squeak under the movement of her body.

"Oh god, "Mulder gasped.

"What's wrong?" Frohike inquired, "What's going on?"

"Not now." Mulder dropped the receiver and pushed everything off his desk with one shove.

Melissa's eyes snapped open at the loud noise and her body stopped it's frantic motion. Her eyes were wild, wired. Her hand left the pulsing warmth of her body and braced on the chair arm.

Standing up, he leaned over and picked up Melissa, turning quickly to lay her down on top of the desk and straddling her eagerly.

Melissa started laughing. "I knew you'd come around."

"There's only so much a man can take." Mulder replied, kissing Melissa deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

Melissa responded instantly, her hands moving to Mulder's pants, quickly unbuttoning and removing the clothing barring her from her prize.

Mulder kicked his pants and underwear off and pushed Melissa's skirt up to her waist, leaving her garter belt and stockings in place. Swiftly, he entered her, pushing deep inside with one quick motion. She responded, pushing her own hips up to meet him, forcing him to move with her, hard and fast. Mulder groaned and followed Melissa's lead, moving frantically, savagely, pumping with her.

The two moaned in unison with each thrust as their speed increased until with one last, hard, deep movement, they screamed together as they went over the top and melted into each other.

Mulder collapsed onto Melissa, spent.

"I won." She whispered, before giggling in triumph.

"Who's clapping?" Mulder asked, raising his head.

Melissa looked down and realized the sound was coming from the phone receiver.

When Melissa left, Cait pulled herself up straighter and said, "Hello, Walter."

"Hello, Cait." He responded, sliding his hands into his pockets, then realizing that was a bad move. He hadn't expected to see her here; hadn't expected to react to the way she smelled, that same sweet scent that refused to wash out of his dreams as easily as it had washed out of his sheets. She'd been wearing a jacket earlier, in the hallway, when he'd seen her from a distance, over the short floral dress, short enough to show off those long, smooth legs he also remembered vividly, twined around him.

"How are you?" He asked, aware of how inane that sounded.

"Fine. And you?" Cait looked down at him, noticing the lines creasing his forehead and resisting the urge to brush them away with her fingertips.

"Fine."

They were silent, regarding each other intently.

Oh god, I want him, she thought, But he probably hates me, he'd push me away. And I can't take that.

Oh god, I want her, he thought, But she probably hates me, she'd push me away. And I can't take that.

"So, I heard that you were assigned your own office?" Skinner asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

Does he realize how sexy he is when he swivels his hips like that? Cait thought, but answered, "Uh huh," nodding.

She's not wearing a bra, he realized, then tried to stop staring at her breasts.

"Settling in alright?" He asked, feeling awkward. He looked away.

He does hate me, she thought, he can't even look at me. She nodded, folding her arms in front of her, defensively. "Fine. They seem to be having some problems assigning me a partner. Looks like I'll be working solo for a while."

"I'm sure you'll be … fine." Why were they engaging in small talk? There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't. Their last heated conversation burned in his memory.

"Yeah, I'll be just 'fine.'" She realized they'd been throwing that word back and forth throughout the entire conversation. She hated that word. It was always used in place of the truth, which was usually the opposite of "fine." No she wasn't fine, she was confused, frustrated, pissed off at herself for being so afraid to bring up the subject, and equally pissed off at him for not bringing it up himself. Well, how could she blame him, considering how she had reacted the last time he had tried to broach it. But she'd been scared then too, for the first time in her life unsure of herself.

She jumped as the sound of a crash came from the basement, followed by a woman's laugh. Skinner turned, looked down the stairs, then looked back up at Cait whose face bore an amused expression.

"Well, sounds like Melissa is going to be a while." She mused, ruefully. Realizing she was too drunk to drive, and unwilling to interrupt what was hopefully going on between Trey and Scully in the car, she gave up and said, "Guess I'll go call a cab. Good night, Walter."

She turned and started walking up the stairs, unwilling to let him see how much his distance hurt her.

But he did see it, and she was almost to the first floor door by the time he called himself a fool and started after her.

"Cait!" He yelled up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She waved him off and continued up the stairs.

"Wait!" He said.

She stopped at the first floor landing, her hand on the door knob, the door ajar.

With one swift movement, he grabbed her arm and turned her to him, slamming the door shut while his lips engulfed hers and she sank back against the door. Her arms were stiff for a moment, hesitating as his tongue slid between her lips and ravenously tasted her, then her hands slid up his chest, hooked onto his coat lapels and pulled him to her, meeting each thrust of his tongue with one of her own, savoring the intimacy.

When they surfaced for air, he laid his forehead against hers, and rasped, "I'll take you home."

"No," She shook her head, eyes burning. He was close enough to see her dilated pupils. "I can't wait that long. I won't."

This time, her lips were the first to move, claiming his as her fingers worked swiftly to pull at his tie and run through the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from his trousers and spreading it open. He shuddered with pleasure as her nails raked down his bare chest and she pressed herself against him and let the twin points of her aroused nipples brush against his naked skin through the thin material that covered them.

His own hands busily slipped under the hem of her dress and cupped her ass, pulling her against him so she could feel his own, huge, throbbing need.

She moaned, rubbed herself against him and her hands dropped down to tug on his belt, rapidly unbuckling it. Realizing her intentions, his mouth left hers and inched its way down until he was on his knees before her.

His hands at her hips hooked into the cotton band of her panties and pulled down, removing the barrier between his lips and her sex. She freed her ankles from their constriction as his lips and tongue traced spirals on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. They moved with agonizing slowness up as his hands clenched into her hips, strong fingers digging into the soft skin.

A moan gurgled in the back of her throat as his tongue licked her nether lips, taunting the swollen, sensitive area. She smiled at the top of his bald head, gleaming even in the dim half-light of the stairwell and raised her leg, sliding it over his shoulder, tilting her hips forward to allow his questing mouth better access. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as his lips closed around her quivering clit, as he sucked slowly, drawing it in, out, alternating with his flicking tongue, driving her mad.

Her hands sought purchase in his shoulders, nails digging in as she cried out in ecstasy as the orgasm twisted quickly in her.

He rose, found her lips again, and she could taste herself on him as he devoured her. This time he did not stop her as she pulled on his zipper and pushed both slacks and boxers off.

Her hands found him, engorged and rigid, tip glistening and ready. His hands lifted her and she wound her legs around his hips as she guided him into her. He groaned as he entered her tight, wet sheath and held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his girth.

Her arms wound around him as he started moving, holding on tightly as he thrust, increasing the pace with each entry, her loud moans of pleasure urging him on.

He came with a shuddering jerk, gasping her name as his head buried in her shoulder. He pulsed inside of her and the shockwaves spread in widening circles through her body.

Her legs slipped from his hips, slid down his thighs and her knees buckled as her feet hit the floor. He held her up, cradling her to him, murmuring her name in her ear.

When he caught his breath, he raised his head, deposited a small kiss on her nose.

"Good, you're still here." he said, his white teeth shining in the darkness.

Shame for her cowardice, months ago, compelled her to try to explain. "I'm sorry, I was so scared..." His lips on hers cut her off.

"Just don't go again." He implored. "Please don't go."

She shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere, except home with you."

He smiled, kissing her again.

"Wow." She breathed. "If I smoked, I'd need a cigarette right now."

The security console held six screens, three of which were on. Black and white pictures of the Hoover Building stared back at the watcher, depicting a lone car in the parking garage, a dimly lit first floor stairwell, and an open door to a basement office. Thin sounds reached the ears of the watcher, moans and screams, grunts and groans.

The watcher smiled and reached for a small silver object on the console. He stuck a cigarette between his lips and flipped the top of the lighter open, allowing the flame to rise an inch high. He sat back in the chair, closing the lighter and exhaled a huge satisfied sigh of smoke.

End Uroborus Series

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