Title: Non-Resolved. NC-17 Author: IndigoMuse E-mail address: IndigoMuse@aol.com Distribution: If you like..just let me know where. Rating: NC-17 Category: RST. MSR..if only they'd talk about it! Summary: A proposal to resolve the unresolved leads to more non-resolution (and how many times can I use variations on the same word in one sentence). Disclaimer: Nobody's mine. I'm borrowing them..I'll give them back in just a few pages time and I'm sure they'll be glad to go. Non-Resolved 1/2 Just under 6 years. Just over 6 hours. Respectively? The former...how long it took me to identify, understand and actually accept exactly how I thought I felt about Dana Scully. The latter...how long it took me to realise that I was kidding myself...to have my perceptions shattered. Just over 6 hours ago I lusted after her. Lust. Absolute. All consuming. I mean...I know people think I'm an odd guy but not that odd for God's sake. Come on...look at her. She's beautiful. She was beautiful the first time she walked into my office, and I lusted after her then. It was rather base at that point...a purely physical reaction to a hot little body and a prissy little 'don't fuck with me' attitude that...well...made me want to do just the opposite. And not just with her mind! The more I got to know her, the more the lust grew. There was nothing about her that didn't turn me on. Every inch of her flesh. Every word she spoke. Every movement she made. The way she thought..and argued... laughed...sulked...slept...walked...ate...hell, even the way she sliced up corpses. I don't deny I'm a sick man. Anyway you get the picture...total lust. And I loved her. That took far longer to arrive and longer still for me to admit. There comes a point though when you have to acknowledge that certain things go beyond loyalty and responsibility to your partner. When was it? When I lost her? When I got her back? When I realised I'd kill or die for her? When I realised she'd kill or die...or even lie, (and believe me that was almost a bigger deal for Little Miss Protocol than either of the other two) for me? Did it come when I realised I trusted her? Does it matter when? It was real. It was all consuming. So I did what I always do with any feelings that really matter...I put them in a little box, wrapped it up nicely, labelled it "Do not open til forever" and tucked it away somewhere. I never quite forgot it was there but I was just about able to resist the urge to tear the paper off and play with what was inside. So what's changed now? She's still as beautiful as she was 6 hours ago...shit...more so. I've never seen her look so mind blowingly gorgeous. But then I've never seen her sleeping naked, covers tangled round her feet, hair tangled round her face, lips swollen from my kisses, body flushed from my touch, before. I know that when she wakes up I'll see that everything else is still the same. She hasn't changed from the person she was yesterday. But I'll never look at her again through eyes that lust for her and love her like they did yesterday. It's her fault. ************************ I can hear him pacing back and fro in front of the window. He thinks I'm not awake yet and for now that's what I need him to think and I concentrate hard on maintaining the slow and steady breathing that pretends sleep. If he knows I'm awake he might try to talk to me. I don't want to talk to him. I certainly don't want to listen to him. I feel faintly embarrassed as I realise that he is probably looking at me and I'm sprawled naked across the bed, but consider that he there's nothing here he didn't see last night - it's not like what I've got to hide could be seen in the physical. Everything is altered. Everything's changed. Less than half a night out of nearly six years and I all that I thought I felt, that I thought I had detailed, categorised, completely come to terms with, has been shot to hell. Last night I...I what? I lusted after him. Simply and basically I wanted him. I've wanted him since I first walked into his office and he came out with all that crap intended to patronise and intimidate. He got over it relatively quickly. He's an idiot at times but a fair one and I knew that he respected my right to my opinions even if he couldn't quite stop himself from playing the role of Font of All Wisdom periodically. We developed an intellectual intimacy that stimulated my body at least as much as it did my mind. Everything about him aroused me...how he looked, never entirely comfortable with himself, how he processed things, his humour, his arrogance and his contradictory self depreciation...and that's ignoring the visual feast he presented. I craved the sight of him. And I loved him. Love and lust...they were surprisingly uncomfortable bedfellows. I used the former as a means to suppress the latter, trying to convince myself that it was somehow sullying the purity of what I had come to recite as rote was platonic love. I would do anything for him...and have. I have compromised my integrity, my sanity, family and life for him...and I don't know whether it was the realisation of how far I'd go for him or the absolute knowledge that he would do all that and more for me that forced me to confront the feelings. And having confronted them I dissected them into easily manageable chunks and brought them out only on the special occasions when I could dress them up as something else. So what is different now? He is still Mulder...still the same infuriatingly complex man in the same exquisitely styled body. Except that I know that body is pacing back and fro just yards from me, probably unclothed, areas of glorious flesh I'd only ever seen bared before through detached medical eyes now invisibly marked by my touch. Never before have I felt his presence with the taste of him searing my mouth. But I'll never be able to just touch him again with hands that carefully manage love and lust like they did yesterday. Everything has changed. And it's all my fault. I crossed the line. **************************** She started it. Well no..I guess I started it but *I* wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. I was flirting. I do flirt. Often. And she usually purses her tight little lips, or raises that imperious eyebrow, or looks at me as if I'm some pimply adolescent...any number of things that serve to remind me that there are lines she will not permit to be crossed... ...until yesterday. It was simple...so simple. She stood up suddenly as I leant over her to look at the laptop..I wasn't paying attention, we collided and I knocked her flat on her ass, falling over her. In my hurry to get up I failed to acknowledge the way she had grabbed my jacket in a failed attempt to stop herself falling and was still holding on so when I tried to rise, she inadvertently pulled me back down onto her. Embarrassed. I was embarrassed, partly for being such an uncoordinated doofus but primarily because being on top of her like this was proving more than ample encouragement for a certain part of my anatomy to decide it wanted to play too. And embarrassed I did what I always do....I made some asinine comment.... "Don't you want me to get up Scully...hey...is all this rolling about on the floor turning you on?"... But she didn't play by the long established rules. She didn't sigh or sneer or chastise whilst pushing me away with a 'behave' threatening in her eyes...she did something utterly unexpected, totally incomprehensible. She said yes. And then she kissed me. OK..panic, incredulity and confusion were heading the line. However, when you're sprawled on a motel floor with the woman you've wanted for 6 long years and she's doing her damndest to force her tongue down your throat your brain doesn't tend to be the organ you think with. What else was I going to do? **************************** He looked utterly dumbfounded but certainly wasn't resisting. If I hadn't been so damn terrified about the speech I had rattling around my brain I'd have had to laugh at him, but I didn't have the time. I knew it'd be only a matter of moments before he'd come up with a suitable get-out clause and I wanted to make sure he'd heard me first.... He listened to me, mouth agape as I imitated a calm I was far removed from actually feeling and propositioned him... as I explained the logic behind what I was proposing. We were mature adults...we respected each other absolutely...we were dancing around the tension between us trying to pretend that each of us were not as horny as hell...so why not just do it..get it out of our systems...cathartic sex...hardly an original concept so.....indulge in what amounted to a one night stand then back to the daily grind of emotions more easily managed. ************************* I couldn't actually believe what I was hearing. These words could not possibly be coming from her mouth. This was not a Scully I recognised. In the oh so rare moments I'd allowed myself the indulgence of fantasising about this moment, I'd always had the decorum to dress it up with at least a pretence of romance. I'd somehow never imagined it coming down to what she was offering...a 'tonight only offer' of a casual fuck. This seemed so crude but whatever I was trying to tell myself about how stupid this was, I'd be lying if I said that the view of her slipping over the edge of that pedestal I'd placed her on was not a damned attractive sight. What was she saying that wasn't true? We were mature adults, we did respect each other and I knew that I at least was certainly more than ready to get laid. It had been so long that I was in real danger of acquiring repetitive strain injury! So we what....had sex, got it all out of our systems and strode off into battle tomorrow, no longer encumbered with the inconvenience of unresolved sexual tension. OK...it sounded workable. "So how do we do this?" ...Of all the stupid questions...! She giggled. A wonderfully girly, open, inviting giggle. "If you don't know that Mulder...I don't think you're going to be a great deal of good to me!" ...and in the unexpected moment of humour the tension was lifted. **************************** Non-Resolved 2/2. Disclaimer and everything else in Part 1 Suddenly we were frantic. It was as if we both feared that any hesitation would become an obstacle we didn't want placed between us. Clothes were pulled off: our own, each others, hands bumping, arms tangling in the desperate hurry to undo, remove, until we were naked, kneeling before each other, taking each other in with hungry and appreciative eyes whilst trying to pretend that we weren't looking at each other at all. A momentary embarrassment - but easily overridden as his eyes met mine and his lips curled up in a slow smile.... I don't know which one of us made the first move towards the bed but suddenly we were there. There was no attempt at slow seduction from either of us - purpose was clear and six years of innuendo, surreptitious glances and nights alone with tight hands and deft fingers were foreplay enough. A moment of almost farcical wrestling, each of us seeking the upper hand so as to speak before he succeeded in rolling me beneath him, though not against my will and the heat of his gaze and the smile that he pressed to my lips told me he was aware that this was a willing concession. Our faces were so close I could feel his breath over my skin as steady fingers placed the hard head of his cock between my thighs, pressing just hard enough to hint at entry. His eyes seemed to ask permission as a slight shrug appeared as apology for the 'straight to it' approach...an approach that was more than fine with me, desperate as I was for the feel of him inside me and I cupped my hands around his ass and pulled him towards me..into me. A moment allowed for adjustment, for me to relax long idle muscles against this welcome invasion before I bucked my hips so slightly below him and the rhythm was set, each slow withdrawal followed by a swift hard thrust, each accompanied by his sounds, the low gasps, the guttural words....I heard my name, he told me I was beautiful. I am so glad he is not a man who automatically pants out an insincere declaration of love on the crest of his arousal. I might not have felt it then but I know now the words would have crucified me. What coherent thoughts I could form were ones consisting of a worthless litany, an insistence I told myself I believed at that point - that this meant nothing more than the sex.... He couldn't seem to stop smiling at me, although it is a smile that contorted to a grimace with each descent deep into me, his cock as steel, increasing it's force with each thrust. Twisting slightly, without breaking contact he pulled my knees high, hooking them over his arms as he continued to thrust, increasing his momentum and the depth of his penetration. Harder. Harder. Over and over, accelerating, urging, craving, each of us fighting to concentrate enough to maintain the too perfect tempo of this dance. ************************** Our eyes were locked, heat mirroring heat as our breath met in the smallest of spaces between us, a space that I suddenly closed, unwilling to keep looking at her, to keep wondering at what I should read into the dark blue that it would have been too easy for me to misinterpret as more that the tension relieving exercise this was meant to be, crushing my lips to hers, savouring her, tasting her, my tongue twisting and tasting in the tangle of hers. It seems our mouths reflected the frenzy that the steady rhythm of our lower bodies denied, frantic, crushing, sucking and biting, tasting and testing each other. Teeth caressed lips, hard enough to draw blood but it didn't matter. Right then nothing mattered but the burning, pulsing drive, the heady mix of pleasure and bewilderment that came from being buried between her thighs. ...or so I believed. Over her, tasting her, smelling her, I couldn't prevent myself from panting out her name, unfathomably grateful to have felt and heard mine on her lips, between her gasps and the strange little squeaks that drove me on. A smile such as I had never seen before, and I realised with a sudden and desperate sense of loss that I would never see again, played over her face. Ever conscious of the temporary nature of this act I still felt as if I'd been there for an eternity. I was surprised I lasted so long. Perhaps my subconscious mind had more control over my body than I suspected and had decided that if this was only going to happen once it'd happen long....though I certainly couldn't maintain that position, needing to ease the ache in my forearms from holding up her legs and so I released her, turning us onto our sides... Together on sweat damped sheets, heat on heat, Her leg cast over mine, her inner thigh pressed to my outer, wet and slick with the combined juices of these exertions, denying friction, meaning that she had to keep shifting her hips, pulling herself back up, lest she slip too far. I'm buried so deep inside her and she's so hot and wet. Though I have no gods I count myself lucky for at least this brief view of heaven.. Slowly withdrawing. Slow and steady. Steady and hard. Hard and deep. *************************** It was so good. It was what I wanted. It was what I asked for. And yet it was proving to me that I am far less a master of my emotions than I believed myself to be but I could still pretend. I could concentrate on the intense pleasure singing from every nerve ending and not the feeling of impending loss I knew to be approaching. Concentrate. When I reached for his hand and guided him down between my legs, still holding him as fingertips together brushed the slick rigidity of him as he moved in and out of me, he allowed surprise to fleetingly cross his features. It made me want to laugh. You'd have thought the fact we were here at all would have given him a clue that when I do start with the requests, I go for what I want. It took him less time than it took for the surprise to fade to understand this request and twisting free of my grasp he worked long fingers into the folds just above his point of entry, and finding his target started an easy, slow rotation, increasing his pressure until my arch towards him told him he'd got it right...really really right. Working my hips to counter the rhythm of his, losing myself in the added sensation his fingers provided until I felt myself shuddering, rushing forwards on a convulsive crest, spasming around him, hard enough to draw a gasp from him that matched my own as he tipped me once again to my back, allowing himself more leverage as he slammed hard into me, riding me through the continuing tremors for just those few thrusts it took him to catch up with me. The first he groaned into my mouth, seemingly believing he could hold on even a little while longer. The second, he bit into my shoulder, eliciting a deep growl from me that played bass to his higher whine. The third was the last as his rhythm failed him and he began frantically thrusting, twisting, almost as if he were trying to crawl inside me as he came, falling down onto me, his weight as comforting as it was oppressive as I tightened around him while he continued to twitch and throb inside me, drawing myself back into the mattress, milking him, realising suddenly and sadly that I didn't ever want to let him go. The look on his face, the sudden tension in his features, the ensuing relief, the lazy smile that turned up the corner of closed eyes with an unmistakable satisfaction...all of this sent a bolt of arousal through me that elicited a far deeper groan than had been produced by my own climax. His eyes shot open and he regarded me with curious eyes, then nodded slowly as if he understood. As if he could possibly understand. ************************* I knew that things were not panning out the way we'd intended...that something about this felt so wrong when it should have felt so great but understanding regarding just how the feelings had changed came in a matter of seconds. It was not any of the things I might have expected that brought the realisation home. It could have been the sight of her, the smell, the way she had uttered my name on the crest of so many different voices, the sensual delight she so obviously took in my pleasure...the list, like the regret, was endless. In actuality though it was a far more chaste encounter - or lack of. Sleep sedated I had reached for her - and she wasn't there. She hadn't run out on me...she was simply and reasonably in the bathroom but the sense of loss, the panic, the fear that she had sneaked away literally took the breath from me. The relief when she appeared from the bathroom and ambled back to the bed, nestling beside me with a murmured "G'night", as if our sleeping together naked and sated were a time established comfort, was all encompassing. And that's it. How can I look at her like yesterday? How can I lust and love as then? Where lust was there is passion, desire. There is a difference and one I've never clearly understood until this moment. Where yesterday I loved her, I now know myself to be 'in love'. I would laugh aloud at my own sentimentality did this not hurt so much. If she had not made her intentions clear last night in the words of her calm proposition, her actions illustrated more than adequately. As she'd nestled against me I raised up and leant over to kiss her, words I felt had to be said, the declaration and explanation I needed to make playing on my lips....and she turned away. Simple. Painful. It seemed that the kisses bred from hard arousal had been permitted but one that might speak of intimacy, of real affection was forbidden. Unwanted. Almost expecting her to kick me out of the bed I was surprised at the sigh that spoke of comfortable sleep, but felt sure this was a concession, not remission. This was the physical - prompted by, but not to be a part of the other parallel relationship we managed. Functional. But that other manageable relationship was totally screwed. She had known her needs and we had perhaps both failed to consider that bringing our bodies together like this might also meld our spirits...at least from my side of the equation. I couldn't package these feeling away like I could the others. There was no box strong enough to keep these hidden away. She will wake and she'll be the person she always has been. She'll be practical, efficient and she might even allow us to talk about this as long as we clearly establish the past tense and the refusal to dwell.... The gates will be closed...and I'll be standing on the wrong side of them. I need to be more involved than she clearly wants to be and I don't know how to hide that from her anymore. ************************* Your own stupidity is a heavy weight to bear, and the realisation of just how indulgently I'd demonstrated mine all but knocked the wind from me. Of all the things, the moments, the sweat slicked touches, the endearments that might have driven home to me just how much I'd misjudged what I was doing, that which actually did was the most innocent of contact. Knuckles bumped when he handed me the glass of water from my bedside table and I realised with a sudden horror that as many times as I'd felt a similar touch before I'd never experience it in the same way again. Never again could we touch each other without my memory of this foolish ecstasy being revisited. This was suddenly too big, too solid to be formed into manageable chunks. It was intact - unbreakable. I could not dissect this and store it away as I had before. I had believed I was opening a door that would enable us to do something that we both wanted to do so that we could pass through it together but all I've done is make myself aware of how impossible it is for me to pass through it at all. He will manage this, deal with it, process it away, physical satisfaction numbing any tension that might have been, and walk on as I had intended. He conceded to my stupidity because it was sex. I don't deride him for it. It's exactly what I offered...exactly what I wanted, or had thought that I wanted. When he had moved over me, leant forward to kiss me I had wanted nothing more than that embrace but knew I could not accept the lie, however well intentioned. He knew how to play the role of grateful lover well, but whereas I could swallow the kisses that swam with the flavour of sex, I think I would have choked on the taste of one that pretended more. It would be so unfair to expect him to understand that I'd changed the rules, and that in doing so I'd lost the game. But the door will slam behind him, leaving me, too weighed down with the burden of these feelings which I'd always before managed to bury, to follow. I tried to make things better but I've placed a barrier between us I'm not sure I even dare to try and scale. In it's simplest form...I want more than he ever could and I don't think I can pretend otherwise any more. * Where can we go from here? ************************* Feedback? Please. Constructive criticism is my medicine. IndigoMuse@aol.com