Talkin' In Your Sleep by Camp 21

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The following story is based on characters copyrighted by Ten *Thirteen Productions, created by The Man, Chris Carter, and who *are the property of the Fox network and are used without *permission. No infringement intended.

This particular piece was inspired by an exceptionally long and exciting browsing session through the X-Files Erotica archives. I hope no one will hold it against me as I claim to have been under the influence of several of *your* feverish musings. Please forgive me in advance for copping out at the end.

Definitely NC-17, but if you are in this site, you already know that.

Talkin' In Your Sleep by Camp 21

His hands are everywhere. Twining in her hair, pulling her into his kiss. Running under her nightshirt, leaving bare skin in their wake. Cradling her breasts, strong fingers teasing tingling nipples to hardened awareness. Her back arches, his mouth covers one rosy peak. She watches in fascination as she swells to meet him, the stroking of his velvety tongue stealing her breath.

Another hand creeps stealthily down the midline of her torso, slowly trailing a twitching line of fire over her stomach. His knee slips between hers, opening her inescapably to him. Long fingers stroke, part her, finding the liquid heat that she can no longer hide from him. A soft scream breaks from her throat as he claims her with one finger, two. Her hips rise to meet him, her skin flushing a rosy color, her body tightening around him. His thumb knows where to rub, the right rhythm, the perfect pressure, to bring her body to the brink and beyond. She convulses, her body spasming in time to the thrusting of his hand and the nipping at her breast. Her body explodes into a million pieces only to dissolve into the beating of her heart, his heart, the same.

The climax of her dream is enough to awaken her. She feels the residual spasming of her body and wonders at the strength of her dream. She lies in her empty hotel bed, trying to remember if she had ever had such an experience before and decides it was a first. Her clinician's mind takes over and analyzes such a physiological response to only a dream. Her dream about Mulder. Very similar to the ones that were becoming increasingly common and so very vivid, so much so that she was almost embarrassed to face her partner in the morning. And when they were on assignment---the dreams were even clearer, as if his physical presence in the next room affected her subconscious.

Scully tosses the covers aside and get up for a glass of water, imagining futilely it was scotch instead. A tentative knock on her door draws her attention. She lays a hand on the gun by her bed and asks without a trace of emotion in her voice, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Scully," a familiar voice answers. She drops the gun and scrambles into her robe before letting him in. He looks tired, sullen. Still wearing his dress shirt and black slacks but looking the worse for wear. His sleeves were rolled above strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair. Her heart rate quickens guiltily at sight of him, and she closes the door slowly, welcoming the cool night air on her flushed face.

Scully wishes fervently he had not come so soon after her dream. Unable to meet his dark gaze, she busies herself with getting another glass of water. "What is it, Mulder?"

He looks at her rumpled bed and takes a chair opposite. Scully suddenly decides this is the smallest room she has ever stayed in on assignment, and it seems to be getting smaller. She stands in the bathroom door, as far away from Mulder as she can in the tiny space.

Mulder continues looking at the wrinkled sheets and answers her hoarsely, "I couldn't sleep." He looks at her across the room as if pondering what she is wearing beneath her robe.

"That's nothing new, is it? Why come over here and wake me in the middle of the night to tell me that?" Scully says, the effort to control the tremor in her voice making her sound harsh.

"You don't look like you were asleep, Scully," he answers in his level tone, eyeing her bright eyes and the flush on her cheeks. His eyes once again stray to the bed.

"Well, I just had a *nightmare*," she lies. "Do you want a sedative?" she tried changing the subject.

"Is that why I heard you whimpering through the wall?" he asks, once again looking at her with his shifting hazel eyes. Scully's mouth goes dry as she realizes he could have heard her through the thin motel wall. Had she made any sounds?

"I heard you calling my name," he continues as he unfolds his tall body from the chair and advances slowly toward her. "What were you dreaming about, Scully?"

She stands her ground, trying to affect a wry look on her face. "I told you it was a nightmare," she says, the intended irritation in her voice fading into a breathless whisper.

"Tell me about it, then. Dreams are windows into the subconscious. They are ways in which the brain can solve problems or act out fantasies." He is standing very close now, too close for Scully to breath. Her muscles tense as if to flee. He notices it and reaches a callused hand out to clasp her wrist. "Is it the former or the latter?"

Scully loses her train of thought. Former or latter of what? His fingers caress the delicate bones of her wrist, feeling the strong pulse racing just under the skin. His other hand removes the glass from her limp hand and places it behind her. She can smell the tangy scent of his skin, feel the heat radiating from his large body. She involuntarily remembers her dream, the feel of his knee on the inside of her thighs, pushing them apart. She struggles to brazen this conversation out. "The former, Mulder."

"Were you coming up with a solution, a scientific explanation, for our present case? I'd like to hear your theory, Agent Scully." No answer but the leap of her pulse under his fingers and the steady darkening of her eyes. "I'd like to think it was the latter, that you were acting out forbidden fantasies in you dream."

Scully swallows with some difficulty as he moves impossibly closer to her. His free hand curls into the hair and she shivers. "You see, I couldn't sleep." The seductive flow of his voice combines with the strong fingers kneading the nape of her neck to arouse her senses. "I have to admit, I was watching TV next door. You know about my little habits, don't you, Scully?" This last is whispered into her ear, his breath fanning hotly over her sensitive skin. She sucks in a deep breath and tries not to visualize him watching the soft porn available through the hotel's satellite system. Maybe he was watching CNN, she thinks feebly.

"No, Scully," he says huskily into her ear as if reading her mind. "You know what I was watching. You know about all the tapes I have at home." She closes her eyes and sees him clearly, his eyes locked onto the moving screen, watching slick bodies writhing together in ecstasy. She imagines him touching himself, cupping and stroking his growing erection, keeping time with the rhythm of the scene before him. Her breath catches in her throat and he hears it. She feels him smile against her ear.

"That's right, Scully. You know about my weaknesses." He feathers a light kiss over the delicate shell of her ear. "Do you know what I was thinking while I was doing that?" A slight shake of her head is his only answer. "I was thinking about you, lying over here in you lonely bed, sleeping in what? Pajamas? A lacy nightgown?" He bites her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. "Nothing at all?"

"Mulder," she begins, but his lips cover hers with a growl. His tongue plunges between her soft lips, tasting the luscious heat of her mouth, instantly stoking an answering heat between her legs. The kiss is over almost before it starts and she is looking into his darkened hazel eyes once more.

"I was fantasizing about coming over to find out for myself when I heard you through the wall." His hands begin working the knot at her waist. "Do you know how many times, when we've slept in adjoining rooms, that I've stayed awake long into the night, thinking about you when I should've been thinking about a case? Listening to the rustle of the sheets when you moved, hearing you breathe, wondering if you were thinking about me as you fell asleep?" The robe parts but she hardly notices. "Tonight I turned off the television so I could listen to your sighs, your whimpers and moans. I heard you come, Scully. And I heard you call my name at the end." Now his hands are inside her robe, pushing the two sides apart as his gaze falls to her body.

Scully tries to control her breathing and her runaway heart, but she can feel his dark eyes exploring her thoroughly. What is wrong with her? Why is she just standing there under his close scrutiny, unable to move?

"Not what I expected, Scully," his voice hoarse, his breathing uneven. The robe slips unnoticed down her bare arms. "Nothing at all. Better than my fantasies..." his words trail off as his fingers settle on her shoulders and begin a slow journey down to the tops of her breasts.

Scully feels her nipples tighten is response. Where is her armor of professionalism that she's used the past few years to keep distance between them? He has ambushed her in the middle of the night of the tails of the most erotic dream of her life and her inhibitions have melted away. She watches with detached awe as his hands cover her breasts, lifting them away from her ribcage, his thumbs circling the distended nipples. She gasps as he closes the distance between them and feels his shirt scratch at her tender skin.

"Mulder, we can't do this," she tries again but is interrupted by the sleek slide of his tongue against hers, moving in and out of her mouth in time to his gentle pinching of her nipples. Her hands curl into the fabric of his shirt as her knees give out. He bites her lower lip with restrained violence and pulls his mouth away from hers.

"I have to have you, Dana," he says roughly, wrapping his arms around her and lowering them both to the bed. Scully moans at the feel of his fully clothed body pressing against hers. "I want to be inside you," he whispers against the smooth skin of her neck. His mouth trails down to her right breast. His mouth opens over the reddened tip and his tongue snakes out to lave her swollen nipple as if in slow motion. Scully's back arches and he rewards her with another sleek caress on her other nipple.

Mulder's mouth trails down the middle of her body, nipping at the inside curve of her breasts and sliding down over her abdomen. Scully's hands grip the covers at her sides as he plants a wet kiss just where the reddish blond hair starts to cover her aching center. Her legs part restlessly on a moan at the urging of his strong hands. His lips cover the leaping skin on the inside of her thighs, increasing the empty ache. He lingers on the soft skin, kissing and licking his way down to her knees before traveling back up again.

Scully bites back a scream. His fingers are stroking her swollen lips, drawing the moist desire from her body. "Do you want me, Dana?" she hears him ask. She can feel his hot breath against the part of her aching for his kiss. "Tell me. I want to hear it."

"Yes," she manages to choke out. Her arms reach over her head to grab the headboard violently as Mulder dips his head and covers her with his mouth. The flick of his tongue over her heated flesh brings deep moan from her throat. One hand curves under her hips, his fingertips skimming the shadowy line down their center, lifting her closer to his relentless mouth.

Scully's whole body draws tight when he takes the hard knot of her pleasure between his lips and pulls lightly. Her sobs echo through the room as he flicks his tongue once, twice, over the taut bundle of nerves. She bucks against his mouth, wanting more. His long fingers are there again, inside her, urging her on to the edge but stopping before her convulsions take her.

Mulder draws completely away from her, sliding off the end of the bed and standing at its foot. He surveys her outstretched body, her thighs open in invitation. She looks at him through half-lidded eyes, frozen, begging silently for him to finish it, but he denies her. She moves to get up, wanting to touch him but he stops her. "No, Scully. Don't move. I want to look at you." She pants softly while he slowly unbuttons his shirt, his eyes never leaving her flushed body.

Mulder shrugs out of his shirt and moves to his pants. Scully's frustration grows steadily with each of his languid movements. He seems to be savoring the anticipation, in no hurry as he peels his remaining clothes down his lean torso, revealing his aroused body to her hungry gaze.

"I want to be inside you, Scully," he growls, lowering his weight to the bed. Scully moans softly as his eyes lock on the entrance to her body. "I want to move with you, to make you scream my name again." He moves between her legs and she sees him take his steely cock into his hand, guiding himself to the wet opening between her thighs. She feels him prodding, parting her lower lips, hears his groan as he slides into her.

"Yes, yes," she whimpers, reaching up to tangle her hands into the thick brown hair of his scalp. She pulls him down into her arms, pressing her aching breasts onto his bare chest. He fills her, reaching deep inside, breaking down the barriers between them that she so fastidiously erected years ago. He impales her, moving swiftly and surely, angling his hips to rock against hers in a driving rhythm only she could match.

Harder, hotter than either of their fevered dreams. Mulder's head burrows into her shoulder, his teeth scraping her delicate skin feverishly. She wraps her legs around his waist, drawing him even deeper into her welcome body. He picks up the pace, wrapping his arms around her slim body and slamming into her with barely restrained violence, wrenching cries of pleasure from her with every thrust. She feels herself hurtling toward the precipice and urges him on, begging him in gasps to join her.

They fly apart together, his growl of satisfaction harmonizing with her sobbing scream, both of them climaxing with an almost frightening intensity before falling back into each other's arms. Their breathing echoes through the tiny motel room, their heartbeats slowly returning to normal. Mulder's hands smooth the damp hair from her face lovingly, his mouth covering hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

"Mulder?"

"Mmmm?"

"What movie were you watching?"

Silence, and then...

"Actually, I was watching the CNN...."

The End