So It Comes to This... by Ishie

"So It Comes to This..." by Ishie

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

Disclaimer: If I owned the X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, or any of the others, I would be swimming in wealth and too busy with their scripts and counting my money to write fanfic. So PLEASE DON'T SUE ME!!!!!!! I don't have enough to cover the lawyer fees, please!!!!!! They belong to Chris Carter and 1013 productions... as if you didn't know.

Rating: **NC-17!!** for sexual situations, Classification: S, R, some angst

Summary: Scully is dealing with the first aspects of her cancer and goes a little ballistic. Mulder comes over and, well.....

"So It Comes to This..." by Ishie

Never coddle me. Pity is a horrid apparition to me, something to be despised and feared. He should have known that. But no... he had to treat me like I was sick and dying; poor woman with so little time left, all the bullshit sympathy from everyone, from Skinner, from my mother, but Mulder, Mulder should have known. I scared him, and it excited me to see the fear spread across his face, the countenance I've loved and hated for the last four years. It sent a cold spiteful sense of sexual shuddering down my spine to know that I had affected him in some way......

I suppose I should start from the beginning.

The headaches had risen, wavering slightly, only sending little tremors of ice through me at first, but on that day, I felt the beast Cancer forcefully trying to claw its way from my skull. It pounded within my brain, roaring its fury until nothing existed but the blinding cacophony. It broke me, forcing me to the office floor, staring up at the UFO papered ceiling. My hands went to my face, seemingly detached from the rest of my body, and tried to claw my eyes out. Anything to keep the light out. The darkness relieved me, comforted me, sang sweet songs to me, promising me an end to the crushing agony that engulfed me with the ardor of fire and gasoline.

Deep through the suffocating haze I heard the door open and I knew, I KNEW it was him. I curled into a tighter ball and tried to quench the frightened whimpers that slid from my throat. They would not obey, continuing in desperate anguish. For a split second I saw myself through another's eyes: a pathetic, quivering animal, and I hated myself for presenting that image, especially to him.

His footsteps rapidly approached me and his hands covered mine, prying my fingers from my eyes, letting the light glare in with all of its triumph, reawakening the monster. I struggled, but he was too strong and I just gave up, falling limply back to the carpet. Mulder stood hunched over me peering deep through my eyes, dissecting my soul with such caring affection that I wanted to wrap my fingers around his neck and tighten my grasp until his skin grew cold and gray.

Carefully he raised me to my feet. "Scully, what is it? What's going on? Are you all right?" I didn't answer, just stared at him blankly, wishing he would shut up so I could lie down in a corner and sleep. He sighed worriedly. "Here," he said, offering me his arm, "let me take you home." That did it. I stumbled away from him and grabbed the nearest item; a porcelain coffee mug, and hurled it toward his head.

Mulder has impeccable timing.

The sound of the mug shattering against the wall enthralled me, and I let out a primal cry to express the joyless exultation that surged through me. Mulder hadn't moved, crouched down like a cat, staring up at me with haunted eyes. For some reason, at that moment, it struck me as funny, Mulder, the loner, the strong one, was afraid of me. I burst out in bitter, insane laughter. He moved toward me and the fear returned. I shoved him away frantically, nearly pushing him to the ground and ran, quickly moving out of the room, the building, the steady click-clack of my heels hypnotizing me into a facade of calm togetherness. I walked out into the parking lot, still lost with the emotions raging, and suddenly realized I was in my apartment. The click of the lock pierced through everything, all the barriers I had so carefully erected. It occurred to me, with a childlike wonderment, that I had no recollection of driving home, of climbing the stairs; it was all gone, leaving only the gray grinning specter to leer at me, replaying the scene in the office over and over. I yelled at it, screamed curses and threats to it, but it refused to keep silent, laughing at me, taunting me until I collapsed onto the couch, rocking back and forth as the tears streamed down my face in torrid, acidic rivers, pouring out the misery, anger, and pain that had dominated me since those bastards had taken me from him, piercing me with the cancer that quietly feasted on my brain.

Somewhere in the midst of anguish, I heard the phone ring, and the machine picking up. His voice rang through the room, stroking the air around my hair with concern.

"Dana? If you're screening, please pick up. We need to talk. I'm not angry..." He went on for awhile, closing with a frustrated sigh. The ringer sounded a few more times, but I couldn't even hear his voice, muffling it away with the sound of my sobs.

Hours passed; the streams dried up, running salty deltas over my face. The agony had subsided, leaving an emptiness inside that was worse than the pain had been. I still sat on the couch, my work clothes rumpled, shoes and stockings discarded in a pile somewhere. The sky outside was turning dark quickly and one by one the streetlights came on, their commanding yellowed glare keeping the shadows at bay. I heard a knock at the door. Who else could it have been? I ignored him, still not ready for him to see me like this, still hating myself for being so weak. But he would not be so easily deceived. The key turned in the lock and the thin sliver of light widened, then was suffocated by his form. Closing the door behind him, he left the lights off, peering though the dirty darkness, finding me there, half limp on the sofa.

"Scully." he murmured in relief, moving toward me slowly as if afraid I would launch another attack against him. I was too exhausted to even contemplate the idea, tolerating his presence even as he sat down on the couch beside me. He took my hand as everything I had worked on since my departure fell apart. My arms encircled his neck and the sobs arose again. He held me, rocking me rhythmically, my face buried in his shoulder, crying like a lost little girl.. Mulder was all I knew, my bastion against the cruel turmoil that threatened to rip apart my sanity. He was my thread.

At some point a desire surged through me. I needed to see his face and that need overpowered my hesitations over what I might see. Pity? Disapproval? What would he see in me? It was so rare for me to break down so completely, and rarer still for anyone to bear witness to it, but twice, twice I had let him in past my barriers and he hadn't judged me. With this, I raised my head, observing the worried confusion that shone through his windows. He cupped my chin, forcing me to hold the gaze.

"What's going on?" he whispered.

"I don't know, I don't..... know" I kept repeating as if it could possibly divert my attention from what I had put him through. The tears were falling again and his grasp would not allow me to hide it them from his sight. "I'm so sorry, Mulder. I just..... I think I'm going crazy. Nothing works anymore, its exploding, everything, I'm craz...." My meaningless works were cut off sharply by his lips pressed against mine, startling me into silence. For a split second of surprise, I attempted to pull from him, but he was so insistent, his arms pulling me close, before letting his hands stray up to stroke my hair.

"It's okay, Dana, everything will be okay.." he muttered against my mouth, the vibration of his voice sending a raw, carnal desire through me. I answered him with fervor, seeking him out desperately, my hands tearing fretfully at the front of his shirt. He deepened the kiss and out tongues met, briefly, hesitantly, before he invaded the cavity of my mouth, stroking beseechingly. For a moment, there was no other sound but the rustling of our clothes, the intakes of breath, the wet slide of our lips meeting. Then he pulled back, the unanswered question in his eyes. I didn't want him to doubt this, to doubt us, and I nodded, reassuring him that this was what I wanted, all I wanted.

I continued to struggle with his shirt, my hands shaking too badly to manipulate the buttons. He finally helped me, removing his grasp just long enough to remove the garment, revealing his muscled chest to me, leaving me free to nuzzle my face against his neck, nibbling lightly. Lightly raking my fingers over his shoulders, I felt him shudder in anticipation and I wanted him so badly, wanted to feel him pushing inside of me, ravaging me in such a primitive, bestial way that I would have no choice but to succumb to his every desire and chase away the torments of before. That excited me; his power, his controlled rage beating within his lean runner's body. I needed to feel it. I whimpered slightly and he looked at me. Proudly, I met his gaze and pressed the heel of my hand firmly against the hardened length of him, feeling the taunt muscle through the material of his pants. It elicited a moan from him and I delighted at the sound. I grabbed for his belt..... but he stopped me.

"Not here" he said and stood, bending over briefly to press a light kiss to my temple. The curt loss of contact deluged my body with desperate cries of protest. I started up at his commanding form with crass stupidity, not really grasping his meaning, and unable to stand even if his works had found some part of my brain that wasn't murky with delicious depravity.

He gazed down at my limp figure for a full minute before realizing that I wasn't going to move. A sly smile spread across his face, touching only the corners of him mouth, reflecting more in his blackened eyes. Darkened with desire. I liked that a lot. I reached up for him in approval and he grabbed my wrist, almost painfully, and hoisted me up, balancing my listless frame on his hip as a small child might be, his head pressed to my breast. He was mumbling pure jargon, cooing to me incomprehensibly as he cradled me, carrying me into the bedroom. He wanted the invasion as much as I did; to ravish me in my own bed; some strange form of defilement that we both craved. He lay me out on the sheets and towered above me once more, his muscles knotted with coiled tension. He was enjoying it; making me wait until he was ready.

"You like to be teased, don't you?" he growled, running his index finger over my sternum with the deft skill of an artisan. I squirmed under his touch and started to slide my shirt up to give him better access. He lunged down and pinned me to the bed, using his full weight to hold down my arms. His face was inches above mine and I strained up with avarice to make contact, but he pulled back. He released my wrists an put his hand to my lips. "No." he said sternly and covered my mouth with his, slowly allowing his body to press me into the mattress, stroking his hands along my sides, rubbing the silk of the shirt against my skin with ardor before finally releasing me from it, lifting himself from me long enough to remove it and finger the emerald colored strap of my bra, letting it chafe my shoulder before kissing the reddened area. he traced the lace lines so lightly that it was almost irritating and I struggled, feeling him grow harder with every movement he had to make to restrain me. He lifted me to him and reached behind my back, unhooking the small metal clasp with ease. Carefully, he slid it off, painstakingly slowly until even breathing became an arduous task. He massaged me gently through the loosened material, never lingering, preferring to torment me , debilitating any inhibitions I might have had at some point in my past. The Bureau didn't exist, the cancer didn't exist. There was nothing except the incinerating sticky heat of flesh against flesh.

"Please Mulder" I moaned, not caring how banal I sounded to him. He chuckled and obliged, stripping the bra completely off, leaving me vulnerable to anything. He dipped his head and suckled me, moving from one breast to the other, lapping and nipping at the hardened peaks; nothing escaped his touch, his mouth grasping me until my hips were pressed up against him, moving of their own accord. I wanted him with such hunger and cupidity that it frightened me, building to a pounding crescendo that made it seems as if my entire body was on fire, the hot pool between my legs scorching me, demanding some closure to the intense explosions that rocketed through me. His lips moved lower, tracing my ribs, swirling his tongue in my navel playfully, finally stopping at the brusque line of my skirt. He toyed with the zipper for a moment, gauging my reaction with precise skill before moving his hand under the coarse fabric, brushing his fingers against my protected furnace. Pushing my panties to the side, he pushed one finger into me, closing his eyes in response.

"God, you're wet" he breathed, sliding in another finger, taunting me with a mere appetizer of what he would feel like, stroking me in such a gentle, furtive way that I was almost deceived into believing this wasn't for the sole purpose of driving me crazy. Almost. He was fluctuating his pace, driving me almost to the edge.... and then dropping me back down. I raised my head to see his expression, and it was so full of farcical pride that I had to retaliate. I clenched my muscles around his probing fingers, trying to control myself with some form of forbearance. He wanted to play and I was going to make damn sure I was a formidable opponent. He tensed with my abrupt movement and the grin on his face grew wider with the realization of my intentions. Now my smile matched his own. He carefully removed his hand from me and sat back, like a dog on its haunches, observing my half dressed form. This time the vision I saw through his eyes took on a very different meaning. I was a picture of hallowed lust, ravaged and flushed, my hair fanned out across the pillow in fiery tresses. I knew then the intensity of his desire. He wanted me to grovel, to beg for his touch. This would indeed prove interesting; a battle of spirits that he would undoubtedly win, but the struggle was intoxicating in itself.

I shot toward him, shoving him backwards. He was caught off guard and off balance on the end of the bed, lying on his back, momentarily helpless as I had been. I straddled his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly against my heat. He raised an eyebrow in appreciation and ran his hands over my thighs. Now it was my turn to push him away. Smiling, I shook my head at him, bending to barely touch my lips to his face, fluttering kisses over his eyes, ears, mouth. I moved down, making sure I was rocking against him tirelessly, loving the way his body tossed under me, so powerful. I reached for his belt again... and again he attempted to halt my exploration; trying to take back his control. This time, however, I would have none of it, maneuvering around his hands to undo the buckle and pull down the zipper. It was quite a task to get the trousers completely off, but sheer will overcame his superior size and strength. His boxers followed quickly and he was free. His erection stood proud and firm and I let out a slow breath, trying to contain my own excitement. I had seen him naked before, but never like this, ferocious, passionate, his entire body aflame for me. The thrill that I was the one who did this to him, the reason he was helpless beneath me, drove me further, encouraging me onward.

I took him in my hand and watched his face contort as I ran my fingers up and down the throbbing length of him. He was hyperventilating, his eyes squeezed shut in a grimace indicating he was walking the erotic line between pleasure and pain. The head of his cock was shining with precome and before contemplating consequence of action, I had lowered my head, lapping up the glistening droplets.

His sharp gasp of breath rasped against my eardrum and he froze under me, allowing me to feel his pulse racing against my lips. I took him deep into my throat, fiercely sucking, his groans fueling my fervor, building the fire hotter and hotter until I was sure he would break, but he didn't, just pumped into my hungry mouth, faster, harder. He grew stiffer that I thought possible and just when I knew, ready to take all he had to offer me, he seized my shoulders roughly and pulled me back up to his chest, fighting the forces of nature for the regain of his power. He won without contest and relaxed ever-so-slightly. He looked at me with new respect..... and a devious grin. I had gotten one past him.

"My turn, Dana" He rolled over, back on top of me, placing a large hand on my abdomen, pressing firmly . "Stay." he commanded haughtily and got up, doing a brief visual search of my room, finally fixating on a silk scarf lying haphazardly across my dresser. Suddenly it became crystal clear what his intentions were. He grabbed the scarf and leaned down, rubbing it against my cheek and pushing it up and down my naked arms.

"Mulder...." I started. He pressed the silk to my mouth.

"Fox." he corrected softly. I repeated the word mindlessly, obediently, tasting it as if it were a foreign delicacy, the rare privilege of speaking his name.

Carefully, he looped the scarf around the bedpost, circling it around each of my wrists before knotting the fabric firmly. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. I was trapped... at his mercy. He could do anything to me, even leave me there indefinitely if he was so inclined; letting me die, watching me drift off into death from the need that scoured its way through me entirely, not one corner of my brain untouched by an unyielding mad desire for him, his touch...

"Trust me" he whispered, and I did. He wouldn't hurt me, he wouldn't humiliate me; it was all for us, the whole hunt, the capture. I wanted him to ravage me.

He climbed back onto the bed and fingered my skirt once more. The damn thing felt more confining than the ties and I wanted it off, no barriers to be between us. The sound of him pulling down the zipper echoed off the shadowed walls, harsh and ragged as my breath, which quickened slightly as he ran his hands under the fabric, taking his time.

"I need you, Fox.. now, Please, please!" I pleaded the entreaty mindlessly, urging him to hurry. The desire was killing me, picking me apart, my wanton cries tainting the air, building up the game. He was trying to control the shaking of his hands, but I could feel him trembling, depriving himself for our mutual pleasure, needing this first time to last. It felt like hours had gone by since he first confronted me on the couch, and in fact, maybe it had been............. Five years. We had been supressing this, fighting this for five years, blindly believing that the other couldn't possibly share the same feeling of.... love? Oh god. I had let it happen. Somewhere in all the disaster we faced together, through all the shit thrown at us, I had fallen in love with him. But what about him? I had seen affection in his eyes, worry and panic at my traumas, but could I be fooling myself, mistaking frustrations and Bureau ideals for love? What were we doing? Fear assaulted me with the accusations of what I was risking; friendship, partnership, the best and worst years of my life. I could be throwing it all away by losing the control I had worked so hard to obtain, to perfect the cold detachment that kept them all guessing and, somewhere, icy through his passion, he felt my body still under him.

He raised his head and looked at me, concern rising rampant in his eyes.... concern and maybe, a bit of regret? "What is it?" he asked. Dammit, I had done it. I had to tell him, regardless of what it could lead to, of what would be destroyed, I had to tell him.

"Fox, I....." It was harder that I could ever imagine, the words scratching my throat like the gentle rustling of broken glass against sandpaper. He was still looking at me! Frozen in place, waiting, watching, wanting.... "I love you." I had said it; the most trying thing I had ever done, the confession fighting to stay buried in my subconscious forever, but it was out. I closed my eyes and turned my face away, not wanting him to see the tears that lurked there like old acquaintances. I heard him move, but the curiosity of what he was doing would not deceive me into raising my head again. That was what had started everything. His hands were on my face, trying to force me to meet him and I fought him with every ounce of my strength. Finally, he simply lay down on me, his erection pressing into my thigh.

"I love you too, Dana. Jesus, don't ever think that I don't. I love you." He was frantically kissing me. "I don't care what they do, they can't pull us apart. Ever. This is ours. You're mine." he declared. "You're mine." Unconsciously, he was rocking his weight, making it hard to breathe, the discomfort awakening the lust again. I opened my eyes, struggling against the scarf, craving his touch, yearning for the fire to be rekindled bit by bit. I muttered my desire, but he hesitated.

"Are you sure about this, Dana?" Any previous knowledge of speech deserted me, and I moved my head in, what I hoped, was an affirmative gesture. I didn't trust myself to say anything, even if I was capable; my voice would crack and I would probably start to cry again.

He smiled softly, lighting his countenance with a beautiful luminescence. I wanted that picture in my mind forever, a permanent imprint of why I had fallen in love with him. He kissed my swollen lips once more before returning to his previous position, peeling off the skirt and tossing it to the floor with the rest of our discarded garments. My panties were soaked with the evidence of my desire and I craved relief, for him to end this suffering and finish what he had started. Even with him so close, I felt empty and alone with a hollow that could only be filled be him, the conclusion to isolation and loneliness, the invisible walls that separated me from the world, all crashing around me, leaving only his tenderness. We had suffered together, all the horrors, the lies and deceit. We had seen the best and worst sides of each other and now understood the frenetic pangs of sexual passion that would fuse our bodies together.

With an ancient primal growl, he tore off the last layer of delicate cloth that kept me from him. I felt his eyes roaming over my vulnerable figure, taking this in. He was hungry, hungry for the game, the victory, the closure.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "You are so damn beautiful."

He pushed my legs apart and ran his fingers through the damp auburn curls that nestled at the juncture of my legs. "Yesss.." I hissed, coveting the feel of him. Mumbling, he brought his lips to me, nuzzling against the apex of my frenzy, making love to me with his tongue and teeth, nipping gently at the sensitive hidden folds. I writhed under his touch, the probing heat driving me closer and closer, my soul crumbling, shattering me, praying he'd be there to pick up the pieces. He raged on mercilessly, drinking from me, my body convulsing as I screamed his name and fought the bindings that held me, my wrists raw and sore, building up the arousal, the thrill of being preyed upon. Everything seemed to fall out from under me, dropping me into a sweet smelling abyss of soft light....... and I went limp beneath him, gasping for breath. He was making a low guttural sound, laying his head across my stomach, stroking my hips and back. I craved more, the brumous mist clearing from my thoughts, pricklings of light still flickering along the edge of my vision.

"I want you inside me, Fox," I stated simply. I did want him. I wanted him so badly that had I not been restrained I would have turned him back over and showed him exactly how much he meant to me. My wrists hurt from the scarf and I wasn't quite sure if the moistness I felt was perspiration or blood. I whimpered slightly and he raised to his elbows, watching me struggle. He ran one hand lightly over my breasts, flicking at the nipple, stroking with his thumb, brushing as softly as a kiss, and then harder, sending electric cracklings through the room. Moving up, he nibbled at my ear, rubbing the flat of his tongue over the lobe. I tossed and pleaded with him, begging desperately for him to fill me. Languidly, cautiously, he pushed his knee into my heat, opening me even more, positioning himself above me as he continued the seduction. Frantically, I moved against the sheets, trying to press myself to him, fighting that fucking scarf with all of my willpower, but he had tied the knots with precise skill, and despite the seeming delicacy of the fabric, it held me securely, rendering me helpless, furious, and frantic.

"Fox!" I cried in anguish. "I can't take anymore!" He grasped my hips and thrust inside of me, embedding his cock so thick and deep that stars exploded in front of me, colorful bursts blazing and I screamed, burying my head into his shoulder with a muffled sob. For a moment we were locked together, each completing the other. I knew then what it's truly like to be cherished and then, then he began to move, pulling almost completely from me and then fiercely sheathing his manrod in me once more. At first it was slow as he found a pace, wanting to please me, judging exactly what I wanted, what would arouse me, but then faster and harder, each thrust almost bringing pain, the force and celerity throwing me into spasms time and time again. His hands roamed over me and I wanted the return, to explore his body as he did mine. With new devotion I tested the binds, and still they would not give. He saw my efforts and freed me, reaching above to clumsily pull the tight knots loose, rubbing my abraded wrists as he continued, the movement of the massage matching the rhythm of his fervor as he impaled me. I pulled free and grasped his buttocks, pulling him to the hilt, nearly losing consciousness as we twisted together in slippery ecstasy, flashes of pain heightening every sense, every pleasure shared between us in mutual perfection.

His pace was quickening as he slammed me into the bed over and over again, pushing his hand between our bodies to caress the sensitive bud that centered the pleasure; driving me up so high, our cries mingling together in a carnal mantra, names breathed, then yelled, tongues meeting and retreating, melding out tastes together. I closed my eyes, ready for the final wave to wash me over the cliff of need, but he stopped me.

"Open you eyes, Dana. I want to watch you come. Open your eyes for me," he gasped. I wrenched my eyes open as the culmination of climaxes assaulted me. Every muscle in my body tensed, words meshing together into a climatic wave of nonsense, finally erupting into mangled cries and all through my effervescence, he was watching me in fascination, touching my face, still trying to hold back, letting me finish, wringing every last sensation from my aching body before exploding deep into my womb, his warm semen clouding any reminiscence of thought, bringing us both spiraling downward in a maelstrom of frantic kisses and devoted clutches......

And it was over.

The pale glow of the streetlights crept in, illuminating the bedroom like a darkened stage. The first thing I became aware of was the imprint of the wet sheets against my back, then of his fingers entwined painlessly in my hair. The silken scarf lay by the side of the bed, ragged and forgotten.... I looked up at him, observing the soft blissful expression that lit his face. He looked young, the worry lines smoothed away, his body relaxed on top of me. I touched his mouth and he opened his eyes, glancing at me with a broad smile that reflected no devious intentions, just warmth and acceptance. He carefully rolled over, taking me with him, and reached around to pull the covers over my exposed skin.

"I love you" he said and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. With that he closed his eyes once more, leaving me sprawled across his chest. His breathing slowed and I knew his was asleep. I felt safe..... they wouldn't find me here, couldn't hurt me here. Together we were stronger, and this beautiful secret could remain ours. As I drifted of to sleep, the sounds of the outside dimmed to less than a hum, and the tyrannical ogre that uproared in my brain to start the whole display had bedded down with no trace of its fetid breath left to haunt me. My world was only him and our lovemaking, the fusion of our bodies and souls together in the kingdom of unconsciousness.

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