Classification: MSR, V, A Keywords: Angst, more angst, MSR, Mulder/Scully Rating: NC-17 Recovering The Satellites An X-Files Romance by CW AKA Meg Disclaimer: I don't own them. Never have, never will. Instead, they belong to CC, 1013, and Fox. End of story. (no, wait! I didn't really mean that was the end of story-I just meant it's the end of the Disclaimer! Don't Leave Me!) The song 'Recovering the Satellites', as quoted at the beginning and end of this story, belongs to the Counting Crows. Distribute: Wherever. Keep my name on it. Don't try to make a profit off of it. Spoilers: None, really, as far as I know. WARNING: Heavy MSR ahead. You've been warned. Note: I was really in the mood for some good old fashioned smut, and being that it comes from me, and I am a Sarah McLachlan fan, it has to have a dark side to it, right? (Full marks to anyone who reads this and immediately knows what I was listening to as I was writing it...and even more marks to the one who guesses which precise album. Better yet, I will be super-friendly to whoever can identify each song quoted within the context of this story--- that's not counting the Counting Crows stuff. That's a given. E-mail me!) Thanx: To my dearest friends: Adriel (for being his own beautiful self), Dan (for being his own manipulative, insensitive, pig-headed, lovable self), Mel (for putting up with my X-Files obsession), Marlie (for having an even bigger X-Files obsession than mine), and Erin (for reading my stuff and liking it even though it's not really her thing). Dedication: I dedicate this to my Net sister K and my other Net sister Shannon, because-well, they'll know why, won't they? ('Whatever!') Summary: It's way past Mulder and Scully's bedtimes... ***** So why'd you come home to this faithless town Where we make a lifetime commitment To recovering the satellites And all anybody really wants to know is... When are you gonna come down ***** Mulder yawned and ran a hand back through his already-tousled hair, sending it flying in directions which one could have said wouldn't have been possible according to the laws of physics, if one were not looking directly at him. Fox Mulder was a walking testament to the fact that such laws were not to be taken as seriously as one might think. "Hey, Scully, look at this," he said, and her head snapped up, her eyes focusing on him rapidly. "What is it?" she asked, her tones soft, raw, liquid with the time of night and her state of extreme exhaustion. Something about this night had made both of them stay long past their respective bedtimes... "Just come see," he insisted, trying to ignore the way those few movements of her fluid voice had affected his blood pressure. he thought. Without further protest, Scully pushed back her chair from her desk, clicking on the laptop's screensaver as she did so, and walked over to stand over his shoulder and observe whatever had excited him. She placed her hand on his desk just next to his, to hold herself steady, and as she stood over him, so close he could feel her warmth, her arm brushed ever so slightly against his. he thought, trembling. "What is it?" she repeated, and he forced himself from delving further into his reverie and raised the magnifying glass to the photo he'd been observing. "This photo the Gunmen found of Cancerman," he said, and she leaned closer to see what he was seeing in the picture, and her hair brushed his cheek. He shivered again, then hastily went on, pushing down his body's response to her nearness. "I think it has another familiar face." She took the magnifying glass from him and squinted at the photo. Then her eyes widened slightly. "My God," she said quietly, and checked again. "Is that Deep Throat?" "I think so," Mulder nodded, and she put down the magnifying glass and moved away from his desk, over towards the empty coffee machine. "So you think that maybe Cancerman and Deep Throat were somehow connected---that they were working together?" "Deep Throat once told me that he'd been one of three men to have 'exterminated' an extraterrestrial biological entity," Mulder said, and was amazed to find that his words were not in the slightest slurred. He was awake and alert as ever, but his mind was feeling a little more out of place...like an alcohol buzz, a slight intoxication that enhanced the senses but left inhibitions behind. A dangerous feeling at this hour, alone with Scully. "Which is certainly Cancerman's territory, wouldn't you say?" "Certainly," Scully agreed simply, and he heard her moving around behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around. He might just launch for her, catch her in his arms and...dangerous thoughts, Mulder, dangerous thoughts... Finally, she answered the question for him. "I may have something for you," she said in that placid, warm voice. He looked up as she came around his desk. She placed another photo in front of him. "I found this in the Gunmen's archives. I don't even think they knew they had it. Another familiar set of faces." He glanced down at the photo, then brought up the magnifying glass. Deep Throat and X. Wonderful. Just as he'd always expected. "Mulder, does this mean that they all manipulated and betrayed you...or that they all manipulated and betrayed *them*?" she asked, voicing the very thoughts in his head, as she so often did. "I don't know, Scully. Of course I want to believe it's the latter...I never saw any reason to believe that Deep Throat, at least, ever betrayed me. I still trust him." "He did die for us," she murmured. She was next to him again, this time standing straight, and her knee brushed slightly against his thigh. He glanced down and noted that she was wearing a skirt...the black one that cut off just above her knees...and she wasn't wearing any panty hose underneath it. Her legs looked smooth as candy, and just as tempting. "Die for us?" he repeated, clearing his throat to rid himself of the fog in his mind. "Well, he did die in exchange for your life---he died to bring you back to me, so he died for us," she said carefully, though by her casual speech he would have said that she was having trouble concentrating on the topic at hand as well. "Oh, I'm sure you'd have been fine without me, Scully," he said, shaking his head as he tried to move a little bit further away from her... "I'm not so sure," Scully said, voice filled with the questions she'd asked herself so many times before. "I don't know if I would have done fine without you, Mulder." "You'd have done a hell of a lot better than you're doing now," he said carelessly, and he felt something in her snap. "I'm fine," she said characteristically. "No, you're not," he said simply in return. She was silent. "You're empty, Scully. Just like me. I never wanted you to become that way, but you did. And I let you." "You didn't let me anything," Scully protested tiredly, her voice dull. "Argue all you want, Scully," he shook his head. "I know what you need." "Do you?" Scully questioned in return, and he knew that if it were any other time, any other night, she wouldn't have asked the question. She would have stepped away then and there, made her way out for the night, said goodbye, and in the morning they would have forgotten it. But then, if it were any other night, he wouldn't have said what he'd said, either. "Do you really know what I need, Mulder?" Scully continued, and her knee brushed against his thigh again, and Mulder realized with a shock that this time she'd done it on purpose. "I don't think you do." As he kept staring at his desk, at anything he could to avoid staring at her legs, she moved again, slipping off her shoes one by one. This time, she reached down and swiveled his chair slightly to face her, and then she stepped towards him, her legs sandwiching one of his. Her hands came up and her fingers threaded through his hair, and she bent down. Her lips brushed against his temple, lingering there for a second, feeling it's strong tempo. Then her lips started to move. First she dragged them down his jaw line, then back up to his ear, which she nipped at gently before she nuzzled his cheek with her own. "What do you think I need, Mulder?" she asked, and she placed a small kiss right at the junction of his jaw and his neck, underneath the fold of skin and bone. Her lips, smooth and satin, just as he'd always imagined them, moved over the corded muscles and tendons of his neck, licking, tasting, sucking on the tender skin she found there. He wondered if this was really happening. But somehow he knew it wasn't just another dream. He nuzzled his face into her cheek as she kept kissing his neck, her hands now holding him by the back of the neck. His hands snaked out of his lap and found their way to her knees, where they touched her ever-so-gently and she shivered. His left hand cupped her right thigh. The back of his right hand, barely touching her skin, moved achingly slowly up the inside of her left thigh. Her motions stopped, along with her breath. She froze against him, her breath held in freeze-frame as she waited. He brought his left hand up her right thigh. The fingers of his right hand played with the seam of her panties. She pulled back. The reaction was instant, sudden; her warmth gone from his space as quickly as it had emerged. In a split-second, she was around behind her own desk, her breath coming in short huffs, one hand reaching up to run through her hair, as though that could calm her. He chanced a glance up at her. Her eyes were wild, frightened. She'd realized what she'd just about done, and it scared her. He didn't want it to scare her like that. He stood up slowly, and heard her reaction to his motion in the way her breath suddenly sharply took flight inwards. He moved around to behind her desk, behind her. She pretended to be interested in one of the photographs. He stood so close behind her he knew she could feel him. He let his mouth come close enough to her ear so that she'd feel the heat of his breath. She shivered, and her hands clamped onto the desk, as though she might fall any minute. She wasn't that weak, he knew; only that scared. "Mulder, this..." "This what?" "This can't happen," she said shakily. Dana Scully was shaken to the bone. Couldn't she understand that he wanted to hold her, to make the fear go away? Couldn't she understand that the last thing he wanted her to fear was him? "Why, Scully?" he asked her simply, and he reached down and brushed his lips across her temple, as she'd done to him. Ah, the difficult question. "Because..." she shook her head. "There're a lot of reasons, Mulder, you know that." "You're afraid of breaking that marvelous veil you've built up over the years, the one that hides all your feelings, the one that hides Dana Scully behind the cleverly crafted Ice Queen, is that it?" he asked her smoothly. He'd gained confidence swiftly. The tables had turned. He heard her sharp intake of breath, but couldn't decide whether to be pleased or sorry. "You're afraid that if you lose that, you'll lose yourself," he said a moment later, understanding coming to him as suddenly as it came to her. She remained silent, but he knew that she knew that it was truth. "You won't lose yourself," he whispered, leaning down a little closer to her neck. "You won't lose yourself when you lose that veil called loneliness, Scully, because you can replace the loneliness with something warm, something that can hold you much more beautifully. Something that would never let you get lost." He watched as her chest started to rise and fall rapidly, erratically. "I'll take you in, Scully," he said softly. "No questions asked. I'll strip away the ugliness that surrounds you." She recognized the song and her breath caught again, then sped up again. "If you'll let me," he finished, and he stepped up to press himself against her from behind, his face resting a mere inch from hers. Her eyes closed, she turned her face towards him, until her lips rested just on the corner of his... She pulled away again. Breath quickened and blood pounding again, she moved away from him, over to the counter across the office, where she turned around and leaned back against it, her hands coming up to brace against it as she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, in and out. His eyes seduced her from across the room. "I know what you need, Scully," he said quietly. She froze again, and then she took in a deep breath and spoke into the quiet room. "Yes." A slow smile spread across Mulder's face, and he walked across his office floor and locked the door. Then he moved towards her slowly. She still hadn't opened her eyes, but he knew she could feel his approach, feel every step rush through her veins. He could feel that pounding in her blood because it also resided in his. He reached where she stood, and he stood before her, looking at her for a long, silent moment, feeling her breath held in check, before he touched her. This time, it was her face he touched. Two fingertips brushed ever so slightly against her cheek, and she shivered. One fingertip traced her lips, and she shivered. One tiny kiss on the tip of her nose, and she shivered. Another small kiss on the tip of her chin, and she shivered. His hands traveled down over her shoulders, down her arms, until they rested peacefully on her hips. She stayed perfectly still, as though in stasis. He lowered himself towards her in slow-motion, knowing that with all the photographic memory in the world, he could not possibly remember this moment well enough. She waited. When his lips touched hers, it was gently, softly, hesitantly but without reservation...simply careful, because they'd never touched this base before. Then, her lips responded under his slightly, just a tiny movement towards them. His replayed the motion. No longer to be denied, the rain came pouring down. His tongue was in her mouth instantly, moving possessively over her teeth, stroking along the roof of her mouth in exploration, dueling with her tongue with fervor. His lips moved with hers in a way his hands could not yet touch her, groping, pining, caring; roughly, smoothly, beautifully. They'd always been kissing each other this way-always, for all eternity. This continued for a veritable eternity in and of itself before finally she broke from him, lifting her chin to desperately pull in air. His face dropped into her neck, and he heaved in a breath of his own. But once there, he couldn't move away. His lips found the soft, silken skin of her neck and fastened there, touching, teasing, nipping, as she'd done to him before, but with the knowledge that now this was only the end of the beginning of the end. She moaned for the first time, and he froze against her, then began to kiss her again, now with the intent of hearing that sound again-her voice, broken, so far away and so in need and so desperate for comfort. His comfort. His fingers smoothly worked their way through each of the buttons on her blouse until it hung limply on either side of her pale torso. He looked down at her, at her pale chest, rising and falling more smoothly now with the rhythm of her breath. He was drawn to the rhythm. He felt his heart slip into time with hers as he bent his head and kissed her directly over her heart. She sighed, a languid, contented sigh. This was how it was meant to be. He dipped himself back in time slightly, his hands moving with him, finding their way to her thighs: her thighs, strong and soft, like the rest of her. This time when his fingers found her undergarment, she didn't protest. Instead, she waited. His right hand made its way underneath the cloth, and his fingers threaded through where her blood ran its most Irish. His fingers touched where she was most physically sensitive and she gasped as though he'd touched her soul itself. But that would come later, he thought with almost glee. It was finally happening. She was boiling, simmering, waiting. Now he knew why her voice had been so liquid. It was attached to her inside. One finger entered into her darkest secrets, and she moaned again, that beautiful, hungry sound that he'd so wanted to hear. The finger withdrew only to be replaced by two. She whimpered as a stream of her most precious lifeblood trickled down over his hand, baptizing him in her strength and her vulnerability. He almost whimpered himself. His thumb moved over her nerve endings again, his fingers slid around within her, finding the place he sought. She broke. "Mulder, please..." she whispered helplessly, and he lifted his head from where it had been resting against her chest, and, eyes remaining closed, he touched his forehead to hers. "Please what?" he asked. "Please stop, or please never stop?" "I don't know..." she shook her head. "I trust you." He smiled, nodded against her head, and, keeping his forehead against hers, he moved his fingers again. A long stroke in and a long stroke out. A flutter of the thumb. She trembled, and his other arm hooked around her waist, holding her in place. His fingers kept moving. She kept trembling. Her head dropped away from his; rested on his shoulder. She continued to bleed over him, the heat of her soul enough to burn him. "Scully," he whispered. "Scully, look at me." She lifted her head and opened her eyes. Brilliant blue met dark hazel. And she came. She cried out in something betwixt pain and surprise and intense pleasure as the first wave rolled over her, leaving her shaking in its wake. Her body clenched itself around his fingers, as though his presence were the only thing saving her from being swept away with the tide. She screamed God's name and then his louder. Her restless limbs buckled in his arms, but he held her up strongly, veiling her as he'd promised. And then it was gone, and she was shaking, her hands clenching his shoulders, her head nuzzled in his neck as she cried silently, the hot tears running down his collarbone and disappearing into his heart. "Mulder," she said. "I love you so much." That was what she needed. "And I love you, Scully," he answered her, and she started to kiss his neck again. He removed his hands from her warmth, and his fingers smoothed over her stomach, moving with the slick motion of a dancer on ice. They traced themselves in circles and whirls over her stomach and up her sides until he found the clasp of her ebony bra and released it in one smooth movement. She took off her blouse long enough to discard the bra, but slipped her arms back into the shirt after that was done, to keep out the cold and keep in the warmth. His lips descended over her nipples, one after the other, dueling with them as he had with her tongue, stroking over them while she gasped in what little air she could. Then her hands grabbed him by the head and pulled him up to face her. She looked at him silently for a long moment, her mouth hanging open, and then she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried herself in his neck again, and her breasts pressed harshly into the fevered skin of his own chest, which was bare after she'd unbuttoned his shirt moments ago without him even noticing. "Now I want *you* to make love to me, Mulder," she whispered into his skin. "I want to feel you inside of me, with me. We can't hide anymore." His erection was released quickly with the help of her nimble doctor's hands in time with the disappearance of her remaining underwear, and showing a strength she might never have realized he possessed, he picked her up by the hips and sat her down on the countertop. Her pressed himself into her then, the hard heat of his erection touching the slick softness of her core. She moaned again, a fluid sound to his ears. Her hands came up to touch his back, to smooth over the muscles. He reached down and captured her mouth under his own again, this time slower, with less urgency, but still with a passion that was remarkable. And while their mouths fought their battle in silence, before she could react, he circled his arms around her and pushed forward, embedding himself in her until there was nothing left for the rest of the world. She gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed her breath gratefully, and her surprise quickly turned into a long moan of aching pleasure as she felt her muscles stretch around him, surrounding him, becoming a part of him. Now they were one. Their mouths broke as they focused. His hands moved back to grip her hips. And holding on tightly for her support as much as his, he slowly, carefully stroked out of her. Then in again. So slowly. She breathed when he breathed, waiting in agony when he waited. Out. In. Out. She reached out one hand and touched his neck, and her lips came forward and touched him lightly on the side of the mouth. And he broke. He thrust into her, burying himself so deeply he knew he'd never find himself again. Everything was her. Everything was Scully. She shuddered around him, and her hands gripped him on the back again, her nails digging into him. Her face remained nuzzled against his, her breath puffing against his cheek. He stroked out, thrust in. She moaned and whispered her savior's name. Stroke out, thrust in. He moaned and whispered her savior's name. Stroke out, thrust in. Deeper, harder. Each time a blessing, a miracle, an impossibility. "Mulder," she whispered. "Fox." Faster, quicker, deeper, harder, through and through. Never again... "Scully," he whispered against her neck. "Dana. I don't think I can..." "Don't even try," she whispered back, and she lifted herself towards him just as he pushed down, and they met in a shotgun blast of red hot fireworks, the sound of rushing water the only one they would remember hearing. Her body squeezed around him, much gladder of the company of his being rather than his digits. His body emptied itself into her, almost as though it wanted its own defense: to cry out to the world that it was wrong; Dana Scully would bear his children. Time stopped for a few glorious moments, and words of love were exchanged in breathless whispers. Slowly, time returned to itself, as did the two spent souls it had waited for. Mulder kissed her softly on the lips, and nuzzled into her neck again. "I know what you need," he whispered. "Yes." ***** Maybe you were shot down in pieces Maybe I slipped in between But we were gonna be the wildest people they ever hoped to see Just you and me ***** Your mother recognizes all your desperate displays And she watches as her babies drift violently away 'Til they see themselves in telescopes Do you see yourself in me? We're such crazy babies, little monkey We're so fucked up, you and me ***** THE END 'Scully? Marry me.' ***All feedback is greatly appreciated***Flames will be used to decorate the Catacomb***Thank you all***