God is a Woman

—

PREPARATION

—

Scully regards her drawer of unmentionables with hesitance. Fresh out of the shower, she contemplates her choices, biting down on her lip as she scans over the various sets in front of her, most of which are fairly basic. Recently, however, she has expanded her collection to include a few that are a bit more risqué. Her eyes settle on a red-laced shelf bra and matching thong set that she purchased several weeks prior. The purchase was brazen and impulsive. She's never worn anything like this for anyone, but she wants to for him.

Releasing her bottom lip, she lifts the matching set from the drawer, slipping on the thong and clasping the bra just below the swell of her breasts and twisting it around as she moves to stand in front of the mirror. She adjusts the straps and turns side to side to assess and adjust. The set fits her like a glove and leaves little to the imagination. With the straps shortened, the bra accentuates her cleavage perfectly, giving it cascading and spilling out effect that she knows will drive Mulder absolutely insane. Unable to hold back the smirk that tugs at her lips, she runs her fingers along the lace and sighs as she imagines Mulder doing the same.

The physical aspect of their relationship is still new enough that, at times, it's awkward to navigate. Having now tasted the forbidden fruit, the challenge to remain professional and keep their developing relationship from becoming public knowledge has become increasingly more difficult. She finds herself laughing, smiling, and entertaining his nonsense more often than not. She no longer discourages his leering gaze or flirtatious banter. If anything, she encourages it. Sex with Mulder has made her wanton. His touch has emboldened her and given her the confidence to leave buttons undone and wear lace.

Being with him has been unlike anything Scully has ever experienced before, but she has no regrets. Their transition from being platonic co-workers to lovers has not come without a few hiccups, but even in the midst of all the red tape, they have still managed to find a rhythm. Some nights they go out to dinner, other nights they order takeout, rotating between their apartments and conjoined hotel suites. Anyone else would refer to what they are doing as dating, but neither of them has labeled it as such.

The lack of definition has been liberating and less awkward than what she had initially thought it would be. She had expected him to press for something more defining, but he hasn't. Which is yet another thing that is different. Though she wouldn't call her résumé of lovers extensive, the others before him had longed for definition and significance, and their advances had been all-consuming and entrapping. What she has now with Mulder, in contrast, is something entirely different. So different, in fact, that it defies definition.

The journey they are embarking on is much more vast and complex than a rudimentary pairing. It always has been, which is precisely why his request for her to clear her weekend for just the two of them has left her on edge. It's undoubtedly a step towards something more, and Scully is not sure that she is ready for whatever more entails. She fears that definition will only serve to complicate their narrative, and she's quite fond of the narrative as it is written.

The irony of her hesitance to dive into the unknown while standing in front of a mirror wearing lingerie that she bought specifically for him doesn't escape her.

Sighing, she makes a decision. Selecting a tank top and casual sweater from her closet, she returns to her chest of drawers and pulls out a pair of leggings. Still hot from showering and blow drying her hair, she slips on the leggings and tank top over her ensemble but leaves the sweater at the foot of her bed as she continues to pack.

She had pressed Mulder for details throughout the week trying to get an idea of what he had planned for their weekend get-away, but Mulder had remained steadfast in his silence, answering her questions with a soft smile and nothing more. Aside from being reassured that the trip would not be work-related, Mulder has given her little to go on aside from the fact that she should pack warm and be prepared to be gone all weekend.

Had anyone else have made this proposal, Scully would have balked. The national weather service is calling for record-breaking snowfall. The first front is due to move through this evening, with several additional waves following in its wake. When she had originally brought this to his attention, he had not appeared to be bothered, which had only served to increase both her anxiety and her curiosity.

Mulder had jokingly fielded her questions the first few days until he realized that his secret plans were actually giving her a great deal of anxiety. Only then had he given her questions pause. But even then, he had stopped himself short of answering, asking instead if she trusted him. The flash of hurt that crossed his features as he asked had silenced any further objections she may have had to his pact of secrecy.

In every other relationship Scully had been in, the level of trust between her and the other had always been rudimentary. She had always gone to great lengths to make sure that there were backdoors and fail-safes in place, ensuring a route of escape when things inevitably went to a place that she couldn't allow herself to go. If there was anything that Scully excelled at, it was compartmentalization. Men had been allowed to touch and taste her but never to truly know her. Daniel had been the closest she had ever come to letting someone in, and even then, something deep inside of her had screamed when he had pressed for more, leading her to clam up and flee.

Mulder had been different from the others in every respect, and as much as that excited her, it also terrified her. It terrified her because she did trust him. She trusted him implicitly. Which is why she now finds herself packing a suitcase for an unspecified destination on the brink of the snowstorm of the century.

A light knock on the door followed by the sound of a turning key announces his arrival. While she may be hesitant to forge too deeply into definition, she does have to admit that she is silently looking forward to the day when he no longer feels the need to knock.

"I'm in the bedroom," she calls out to him as she hears the front door open.

He doesn't respond, but she is able to follow his movement by sound. Shedding his coat and removing his shoes, he drops his keys in the ceramic bowl on the table behind her couch as he makes his way to the back to join her in her bedroom. As he draws closer, his steps fall silent.

"You're staring," she says after a few moments of silence, turning to find him leaning up against the doorframe of her bedroom.

"You're not dressed," Mulder replies evenly, his eyes betraying his attempt to appear passive.

Still clad in only a tank top and leggings, Scully is unable to suppress the blush that colors her cheeks as he runs his eyes up and down her body.

"You've seen me in less," she replies coyly, a smirk playing on her lips as she reaches for her sweater, pulling it over her head in an attempt to cover herself before he draws close enough to note laced-covered straps of her bra.

"All packed up?" he asks, clearing his throat and changing the subject.

It's clear from his expression that he is a man on a mission and not one that allows for the delay of a bedroom tryst.

"Almost. I need to grab a few more things out of the bathroom, and then I'll be ready."

Grabbing her contact case, toothbrush, toothpaste, and hair dryer, she returns to her bedroom to find him sitting on the edge of her bed in the beginning stages of pilfering through what she has packed for the weekend.

Laying the items down on the bed, she frees her hands to swat his as she scolds him.

"If I'm going to places unknown with an impending blizzard on the horizon, you could stand for some mystery too."

"Fair enough," he says, laughing and raising his hands in surrender.

Placing anything that could possibly leak onto her clothes into a Ziploc bag, she finishes packing and takes one last look around before closing her suitcase and zipping it.

"Ready?" he asks.

"I think so."

Lowering her suitcase to the floor and turning it right side up, she reaches for the handle but is stopped short when his hand comes to rest over hers.

"Get your coat," he says softly. "I'll get this."

His words come out soft, but there is an authoritative edge to them that gives her pause. Scully has always been fiercely independent when it comes to her care. In her previous relationships she had always resisted being coddled or indulged, but looking into his eyes now there is no way she will deny him. With Mulder, it's never been a move of power; it has always been about reverence.

Removing her hand, she gives him a soft smile and turns to make her way into the living room with him following close behind her. They don their coats, hats, and gloves in silence, neither of them speaking until they hit the cold air outside.

"Goddamn, it's cold," Mulder grumbles as they make their way down the stairs and out onto the street.

"Mulder where is your—," she starts to ask.

But before she can get the rest of the question out, she hears the locks click on the SUV beside them. Raising the back hatch, he loads her suitcase into the back with a knowing smirk before coming back around to open the passenger door for her.

"Taking off to places unknown in a rear-wheel-drive sedan with an impending blizzard on the horizon isn't my idea of a good time, so I made few phone calls," he says.

The green Toyota 4runner is much roomier than either of their cars and immediately eases some of her anxiety over the weather.

"This is nice, Mulder," she says as he settles into the driver's seat. "Rental?"

"Yep."

Silence fills the car momentarily as he pulls away from the curb and begins to navigate his way out of her neighborhood.

"So … now that we are officially on our way, can I have a clue as to how long we are going to be in the car."

"Long enough that we will need to stop for dinner, but not long enough to miss the ten o'clock news or get caught in the impending blizzard."

"Well, that's certainly encouraging, but it's also not helpful," she says, laughing and rolling her eyes.

The few guesses she did have as to where they might be going became null and void as soon as he got on I-95 heading South.

"Mulder, are you seriously not going to tell me anything about where we are going or what we are doing until we get there?"

"Nope."

If his giddy excitement weren't so endearing, it would be hopelessly annoying. Scully hates surprises. He knows that but is making her wait anyways. Fucker.

She hopes for both of their sakes that the drive isn't over four hours. If so, they will undoubtedly be flirting with the wrath of mother nature.

—

ARRIVAL

—

Mulder relents only when the snowfall beings to pick up, and her anxiety starts to climb.

"We're close, Scully. Close enough that we're not going to be stranded."

"Good, because it's really coming down hard."

She's now glad that they didn't linger at the diner they stopped at for dinner longer than what they did.

"Since we're so close …"

Chuckling, he reaches across the center console and takes her hand in his.

"I suppose I've kept you in the dark long enough," he says, looking away from the road long enough to meet her eyes briefly.

"After my parents' deaths, I had some real estate to contend with. I sold a good portion of it, but there were a few pieces that I decided to keep. The house in Quonochontaug is currently being leased as a timeshare and is usually booked solid, but the one I'm taking you to now has largely just sat. It's a cabin off of York River."

She had known about the property in Quonochontaug but is surprised by the cabin. He has never mentioned the property to her before.

"York River?"

"My father bought it shortly after he and my mother divorced. He kept it off the books and used it to get away from the rest of the world. It's fairly isolated, and the cell service is terrible, which is part of the reason I think he liked it so much. He was never bothered out here."

"So … let me get this straight. You're taking me to a cabin in the middle of nowhere that has no cell service on a weekend where there is supposed to be record-breaking snowfall?"

"Relax, Scully, I looked long and hard for Big Foot the last time I was up here. No trace. The Abominable Snowman also called and left a message with my answering service to inform me that he was taking the weekend off."

"You think you're funny."

"No. I know I'm funny," he says playfully. "And no cell service has its perks, Scully. You're the one who's always saying that we need to get out of the damn car."

"And yet, here we are … still in a car."

"Nope, we're about to get out … our destination coming up on the right," he says, turning off of the highway and onto what she assumes is a gravel or dirt road. With the snow currently covering the ground, it's difficult to tell.

"You weren't kidding, this really is out in the middle of nowhere," she says as the narrow road continues deeper into the woods.

"Yet, here we are, as promised," he says as the glow of the headlights settle on a small cabin up ahead.

"Unlike the other properties that were in his holdings, this one is pretty unremarkable, but I think that's part of the reason why he loved it so much. It grounded him."

He's not wrong. As soon as he had tied the property to his family, she had expected something more substantial and extravagant, but as they draw closer, she has to agree. It is quite unremarkable. It's rustic, but not in a way that holds character or charisma. It's also tiny. So tiny that she has to wonder if …

"And before you panic, yes, there is indoor plumbing and electricity. I do, at least on some level, value my life."

To this, she can't help but snort.

"Well," he says as he parks the 4runner directly in front of the cabin. "Shall we head inside and see if the book matches the cover?"

"We've come all this way … may as well take a look," she says, making no attempt to hide her smile.

There's no light source anywhere around, so the area that surrounds them is pitch black except for what is being illuminated by the headlights. It's snowing pretty heavily at this point, so neither of them wastes any time getting out of the vehicle. While Mulder busies himself with their bags, Scully studies the front of the cabin more closely, taking note of the stacks of freshly cut wood that line the back wall of the screened-in porch. She's about to ask him if he leases this property as well, but stops short of asking when the truth comes to her.

She had been worried and slightly irritated last weekend when he had fallen off of the face of the earth for nearly an entire day. When he had finally called her back, she had half expected to find him clear across the country, having ditched her for a case, but he had insisted that he had been out with guys and had left his cell phone back at his apartment by mistake. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checks her bars of service and smirks.

Mulder hadn't been with the guys. He had come here to prepare the cabin for their weekend together.

"See something you like?" he asks, coming to stand beside her with their bags in hand.

"You were here last weekend weren't you?"

"I may or may not have cleared out a few cobwebs and checked for Big Foot impressions prior to our arrival."

"Hmmm … Looks like you did a bit more than that," she says, nodding her head towards the chopped wood on the porch.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the Abominable Snowman is a liar and left the wood butter us both up so that he can have his way with us once the snow gets a little deeper."

Rolling her eyes, she can help but smile at his humor.

"Which key?" she asks.

"The one fresh off the press. The old locks were ancient and a pain in the ass and required numerous jiggles, lifts, and kicks, so when I came last weekend, I replaced them."

Easily able to identify the key he's talking about, she opens the door and reaches around blindly for a light switch. Finding it lower than she expected on the right, she flips it on and is pleasantly surprised by what she sees.

The inside of the cabin is certainly more remarkable than the outside. The large, stone-built fireplace takes up the majority of the wall to her left, but the opposing wall is furnished with a dark, plush leather couch, side tables, and a floor lamp. The large, red-patterned Navajo rug and matching blankets draped over the back of the couch give the inside of the cabin a much cozier and homey feel than the exterior alludes. It's also spotless. The smell of freshly laundered linens and oak infiltrates her senses and brings a smile to her face, but she says nothing.

"I'm going to lock the car up," he says, setting their bags down in the middle room.

Nodding, she makes her way through the main living area and peers into the small bedroom in the back. The bed is neatly made with several additional blankets, and pillowcases folded neatly on top of a small dresser. The bathroom is also small but is equipped with all of the necessities. Turning back around, her eyes come to rest on the rounded edge of the fireplace where she finds more freshly chopped wood stacked neatly along the wall that leads into a small kitchen area.

When Mulder reenters, he says nothing as the locks the door. His soft smile giving rise to hers, as he watches her assess and explore. When he doesn't move and continues to watch, she realizes that he's waiting for something. There's something he's waiting for her find.

Curious, she ventures into the small kitchen and takes a peek into the icebox-styled refrigerator, where she finds enough food to last them several days if not longer. Spotting something larger in the bottom right corner, she opens the door more fully and spots the likely culprit of his fixed observation.

Sitting on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator is a vase full of long-stemmed red roses.

She's not looking at him, but she can feel his eyes on her and sense his presence behind her.

"Well, what do you think, Scully? Suitable accommodations?"

"You've been holding out on me, Mulder," she says softly. "And yes, this is … nice."

It's certainly clear to her now that he has put a great deal of thought into whatever he has planned. Her smile gets wider as she thinks of her own preparation. On the drive down, she had second-guessed herself, but now, as she bends down to rub her thumb and index fingers along the rose petals, she's more sure of herself.

Romance has been a new addition to their relationship. Mulder has been her best friend for years, and now he's her lover. The weeks that followed his return from England have been uncharted territory for both of them, but it hasn't made the journey any less pleasurable.

Wrapping her hands around the glass vase, she carefully removes the roses from the refrigerator and turns to face him.

"They are beautiful, Mulder, but you didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," he says, interrupting her.

Before she can open her mouth to speak, he's talking again.

"Look, I know we haven't really talked about any of this … not really … but I want you to know it means something to me … it's not just a thing for me, Scully," he says, his eyes breaking away from hers momentarily as he shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

It's clear that he wants to say more, but doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable or pressure her to return the sentiment.

Putting the vase down in the center of the small kitchen table, she takes a step towards him and takes his hand in hers.

"I know that, Mulder."

She knows it's not just sex. It's never been just anything with them.

Closing the distance between them, she raises up on the tips of her toes and brings her lips to his, drawing him into a deep, sensual kiss as she runs her hands across his chest.

When they come up for air, they are both smiling.

"That was nice," he says, biting the edge of his lower lip and raising his hand to caress her cheek. His thumb slips lightly across the surface of her lips as he looks down into her eyes, causing a chill to run down her spine.

"Cold?" he asks.

"It is a bit drafty in here," she says.

While it is true the cabin could benefit from some heavier insulation, its drafty coolness is not what caused her shiver, and she suspects that he knows as much. But it's still early enough in their physical relationship that she's still not completely comfortable expressing the extent to which his proximity effects her. Him sensing it and her vocalizing it are two entirely different things.

"If you want to take our bags into the bedroom, I'll start a fire."

"Okay."

Leaving him to deal with the fireplace, she picks up their bags and heads into the bedroom. The solid red comforter on the bed brings out the grains in the wood and gives the room a bit of pop that breaks up the monotony of the browns. It also reminds of her what she's wearing underneath her clothes. Smiling to herself, she pulls her pajamas out of her suitcase. She's actually quite comfortable in what she's wearing, but the warm leggings she chose to put on earlier fit her snuggly, making them somewhat of a challenge to remove. And with what she has in mind, she's opting for more easy access.

When she comes back into the living area, Mulder has a roaring fire going and a smug smile on his face.

"Keep it going at that rate, and it will be a little too warm in here."

"That's sort of the idea, Scully."

"Hmmm …"

Snorting back a laugh, he makes his way towards her and wraps his arms around her, kissing her on her forehead.

"I'm going to get a bit more comfortable. There's popcorn kernels and an iron skillet in the cabinet by the refrigerator if you're interested in making campfire popcorn."

"No microwave?" she asks him, separating from him entering the kitchen in search of the skillet and kernels. She had been so focused on investigating what was in the refrigerator earlier that she had paid very little attention to anything else. Aside from a few cabinets, a sink, and the refrigerator, it was bare of amenities. "Or stove?"

She can hear him laughing in the bedroom.

"What fun would that be, Scully?"

"Have you ever made popcorn over an open flame before?" she asks.

"Nope. Only over the stove and in the microwave, but surely between my Oxford education and your M.D. we can figure it out," he says as he comes to stand behind her.

"I sure hope so," she replies as his hands come to rest on her hips. "If not, we will be stuck with the residual smell of our failure for the remainder of the weekend."

Removing one of his hands from her hips, he opens one of the upper cabinets, directing her to the avocado oil and salt.

"No butter?" she asks, a big smile spreading across her face as he returns his hand to its original resting place on her hip.

"There's some fake butter in the refrigerator."

"Fake butter?"

"I have it under good authority that it's the kind that doesn't break any of the rules, which, in turn, classifies it as fake."

"Ah. I see."

Kissing the top of her head, he removes his hands from hips, grabs the iron skillet and kernels, and turns to go into the main room, leaving her to collect the oil, salt, and butter. She follows behind him and settles herself alongside the fire, eyeing him with interest as he reaches to grab what she thought was some type of wired grate covering on the other side of the fireplace. But it's not a grate, it's a foldable cooking surface that is designed to sit over a campfire.

"You've thought of everything, I see."

Smiling, he pours the oil into the skillet and then places it over the fire to heat.

"I tried. I wanted us to be comfortable and to have everything that we needed. I'd say that was a good call based on how things are shaping up outside."

"That bad?" she asks, getting up to peer out the window.

"Yeah, it was really coming down earlier."

"Wow, yeah … it still is," she says, turning on the porch light.

"I think it's supposed to snow all night. We should have left the wipers up, it's not going to be fun to dig those out later."

"Ugh. I forgot. Well, that's a problem for tomorrow … or the next day."

He watches her walk across the room to sit in front of the fire alongside him with a soft smile playing on his lips. The happiness radiating out of him is refreshing and contagious. The uneasiness she felt as she dressed and packed to leave this afternoon is now gone. While she may not know the full extent of what he has planned, she knows that whatever it is, she's going to enjoy it immensely. She's warm and fuzzy all over, and it's not just from the heat of the fire.

They work together popping popcorn over the fire for the next ten to fifteen minutes. The playfulness between them is palpable as they work the skillet from side to side in an attempt to keep the popping kernels in the skillet. While she had given him hell about not having a lid, she had to admit that their antics to keep all the kernels in the skillet as they popped had turned out to be quite entertaining. Somehow, between the two of them, they had managed to get away with only burning a few pieces.

Now, as they sit snuggled up on the couch and watch the flames dance, they are quiet. She and Mulder had both warmed considerably in front of the fire, causing each of them to shed a layer of clothing to remain comfortable. She had been wearing a tee shirt under her sweatshirt, but he had only been wearing his long-sleeved tee. Snuggling closer to him on the couch she rests her head against his bare chest and contemplates their surroundings as she runs her fingers along his side and down his arm.

"Mulder, why have you keep this place all these years?"

"Well, initially, I kept it because no-one else wanted it," he says chuckling. "It was a bit of a neglected mess in the beginning. My father kept it off the books, so it's not something I found out about immediately following his death. By the time I found out about it, it had been sitting for quite a while, so restoring it back to its former glory took some doing."

"The furniture is relatively new."

"It is. When I came here to take a look at it for myself, I arraigned for some work to be done in hopes that fixing it up would help me move it, but then I ended up falling in love with it for the same reason my father likely did. There's something … I don't know … peaceful about it. It has been my quiet place … my little secret. And now … now it's ours."

Shifting her body to sit up, she searches his eyes.

"Ours?"

"Our secret. Our quiet place."

Looking into his eyes now, she's not quite sure what to say, nor is she sure of what he is trying to say.

"Mulder I —"

"You don't have to say anything, Scully. I just … I wanted to show you that I am capable of getting out of the car."

The reverence and affection he has for her is apparent in his tone and in how looks at her.

He looks at her as if she is the only thing he sees.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she inches closer to him.

"Thank you."

Her words come out whispered and raspy as her lips move to cover his. The kiss is soft and sweet at first but quickly deepens. She can taste the salt and butter from their popcorn as her tongue moves across his. Shifting her weight, she disentangles herself from the blanket covering her feet and moves to straddle his lap, deepening the kiss even more.

Now pressed fully against him, she can feel the heated firmness of his arousal forming at the apex of her thighs, but she doesn't move or grind against him. Instead, she drapes her arms around his neck and runs her fingers through his hair, lightly scraping her nails across his scalp as she waits for him to make the first move.

She doesn't have to wait long.

Coming up for air, he breaks their kiss and lowers his hands to rest on her hips.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Scully?" he whispers.

Tears form in her eyes as she looks deeply into his eyes.

The ones who came before him had made similar proclamations, but none of them, not a single one, had ever looked at her like he does. He's always seen her. She's come to the realization that all the others had ever seen was an opportunity. All she had been to them was an established piece of ass … a box to check in their game of life. None of them had ever truly known her because she hadn't allowed them to.

"You make me feel beautiful."

"Because you are," he says, running his hands up and down her sides as he draws her into another kiss.

The kiss they are sharing now is much more heated than the one before, and this time, Scully doesn't wait. Running her hands down his chest and into his lap, she grasps his bulging erection and begins to stroke him through the fabric of his pajama bottoms.

"I want you to make love to me," she whispers into his ear. "Tonight there is no reason to rush, and I want to go slow."

Swallowing thickly, he nods.

"Okay," he says, lifting her chin and lowering his lips to hers once again.

When his hands make their way underneath her tee shirt and raise to brush over her lace-covered breasts, her breath catches with excitement. She can tell by the way his fingers have stilled over the lace that he's no longer naive to her preparation.

"Scully," he says quietly, running his fingers over the cups of her bra as if he's reading braille. "What are you wearing?"

"Only one way to find out."

Spurred by her words and suggestive tone, Mulder retracts his hands from her breasts and lowers them to the hem of her shirt. He usually makes it a point to hold her gaze as he removes her clothing, but this time his eyes are fixed elsewhere.

"Is this new?" he asks, his voice shaky and deep.

Unable to restrict himself to just looking, he raises his hand to lightly brush over the edges of the lace as he looks up into her eyes.

"Yes."

"So … you bought this for me?" he asks in a hushed whisper.

"Yes."

"It's … God, Scully," he says, again dropping his eyes to admire the picture she makes.

Biting her lip, she smirks at his inability to formulate words as his fingers brush light patterns across the tops of her partially exposed nipples.

"You don't believe in God, Mulder," she says in a hushed whisper as she presses herself more fully into him, capturing his hands with hers and steadying them over her breasts to encourage him to deepen the pressure of his touch.

When he raises his eyes to meet hers again, she is caught off guard by the intensity and sincerity within them.

"Muld—"

"If there is a God, Scully. She's definitely a woman," he says, his tone used and filled with admiration.

Before she can respond, his lips are crashing against hers. Raising his hands to her shoulders, he eases the straps of her bra down, freeing her breasts to press more fully into his chest as he moves his tongue against hers. He swallows her moans and runs his hands down her sides until he reaches the hem of her pajama bottoms. When his hands come into contact more lace and the bare skin of her ass, it's his turn to moan.

"Scully," he says, taking the laced material of the thong between his fingers and popping it against her skin. "Does this … ?"

He's having trouble finding the words, but she knows what he's asking. Rising up to give him better access to both the thong and her breasts, she murmurs into his ear.

"It's a set."

"Show me," he all but whispers.

Nodding, she disentangles her body from his, stands, and slowly shimmies down her pajama bottoms. He's seen it all before, but that doesn't diminish the blush rising in her checks or stop butterflies from forming in her stomach as he runs his eyes up and down her body.

"You know," he says, reaching out to run his fingers across the exposed skin along her hips, "red lace is not conducive to slow, so if that's what you want, you're going to have to drive for a bit. Because there is nothing slow about what is going through my mind right now."

"Well, if we are going to progress … at any rate … you're going to have to shed a few more layers," she says to him playfully, eyeing his covered arousal and socked feet.

"Layer," he says with distinction as he raises to stand before her, pulling down his pajama bottoms and removing his socks in one swift sweep.

Raising her brow, she shifts her gaze down to his prominent erection, not surprised at all by the fact that he had forgone boxers when he changed clothes earlier. She's clearly not the only one who wanted to provide easier access.

"Looks like red might be your new favorite color, Mulder."

He chuckles at her playfulness, but his expression turns serious as he closes the distance between them.

"My affinity for red isn't new," he replies gently, raising his hands to catch the tips of her hair.

Unable to respond with words, Scully slips her fingers under the laced straps of her thong but stills her movement when his hands come to rest over hers. Nodding, she shifts her hips under his touch, lifting one foot and then the other as he removes it and tosses it to the side. When he rises up to stand before her, she takes a moment to appreciate his physique before splaying her hand across his chest and giving him a gentle nudge backward to wordlessly communicate what she wants.

Seated before her now under the glow of the fire, Mulder is a vision. His lean, muscular body has been a central feature of her fantasies for the entirety of the seven years that she has known him but only recently has she had the privilege of indulging. Straddling his lap, she lightly runs her fingertips across his chest before bringing her hands up to caress the sides of his face.

"Slow, Mulder," she whispers.

Nodding, he runs his hands up along her sides until they come to rest underneath the swell of her breasts. His fingers follow along with the lacy material of her bra until he reaches the clasp, where he hesitates only briefly. His desire to access her fully outweighing his appreciation for her newly purchased lingerie.

Now bare to him, she is free to devour, and he wastes no time indulging. Taking her breast in his mouth, he lavishes her, worshiping her body with his hands and mouth.

Within minutes she's moaning and grinding herself against him, wordlessly communicating what she wants and how badly she wants it. But of all the places that he is currently touching, there is still one place that remains untouched. He's doing it on purpose, and it's driving her insane. She requested slow, but Mulder's definition of slow is bordering on torture.

"Please, Mulder," she moans.

Scully is all about foreplay, but there is only so much of his teasing hands and mouth that she can take.

"Please what?"

"Touch me," she says, raising up on her knees to give him better access to the one area she wants him most.

Catching her off guard, he leans forward and cups the cheeks of her ass firmly, supporting her weight as he stands.

"Oh, I intend to do much more than touch you, Scully," he murmurs into her ear as he carries her across the room and lays her down on the plush rug in front of the fire.

A chill spreads through her body as they transition to the floor, causing goosebumps to spread across her skin. The fire has kept the room warm, but Mulder's body is like a furnace. Without his skin against hers, there is a dramatic temperature difference, and her body's reaction to their separation doesn't go unnoticed. For a moment, he stills himself and looms over her body, gazing down at her as he runs his fingers across the goosebumps that have formed across her skin. Their heavy petting session on the couch had gotten the evening off to a considerably good start, but more petting is not what she desires now. Spreading her legs and placing her hand along his neck, she pulls him down to settle more fully on top of her so that she can feel the heat and weight of his body on top of hers.

With his body now flush against hers, she kisses him deeply, moaning in his mouth as he runs his hands along the backs of her thighs, spreads her open more fully, and brushes his arousal against her sex. Craving penetration, she bucks up against him to encourage his body to mate with hers. But when she moves beneath him, he pulls back and breaks their kiss.

"Slow, Scully," he says, smiling against her skin as he begins to kiss and nibble on her neck.

She starts to comment but is stopped short when one of his hands lowers to cup her sex. When she tilts her pelvis to give him better access, he adjusts his weight on top of her to give his hand more room to work. Scully is already soaking wet, but as his fingers dip into her and his thumb brushes over her clit, she feels a new wave of arousal forming.

"Jesus, Scully," he says as he slips two fingers inside of her.

Gasping loudly at his welcomed intrusion, Scully begins to rotate her hips more forcibly against his hand to aid in creating the friction she desires. With his fingers deep inside of her and his mouth alternating between her breasts, he builds her pleasure until she comes apart beneath him, only stopping his ministrations when she becomes breathless and squeezes her hand over his. Lowering his hands to caress the insides of her thighs, he gives her breasts one last lingering kiss before shifting his body down to place kisses across her stomach. His touch is light at first, but as his mouth gets closer to his destination, his touch firms.

The first time he had done this for her had been transcending. To say that it had been the most sexually satisfying experience of her life would be a vast understatement, and it has only gotten better since then.

Scully had anticipated him giving her a bit more time to recover, so when his hands rise to hold down her pelvis, and his tongue comes into contact with her clit she screams with pleasure, sucking in air and grabbing locks of his hair.

"Fuuuuck, Mulder!"

Running his tongue up and down her slit, he encourages her to put her legs over his shoulders and open herself up to him more fully, and she does so without hesitancy. She knows all too well what that beautiful mouth of his is capable of. Fuck, this man is talented.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. At one point his fingers penetrate her again, but in the heat of the moment, she was too crazed with want to recall the finer details or the words that spilled out of her mouth as she came two more times. He had given her such little time in between them that she is left gasping for air. Her intense pleasure quickly transitioning into pain.

"Mulder," she moans, desperately pulling at his hair and shifting her sex away from his hungry mouth. "It's too much … Jesus … just … just give me a minute."

Smiling at her disheveled form, Mulder places soft kisses across her abdomen as he rises up to look into her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how fucking hot that is to watch, Scully?"

The question must have rhetorical because he doesn't wait for a response.

"I'm about to explode," he says, grabbing his aching need and rubbing it across her sex so that she can feel exactly what his exploration of her body has done to him.

Settling himself on top of her once again, he aligns himself with her opening and rubs himself along her slit to coat his arousal. Snapping out of her daze of ecstasy, Scully tilts her pelvis and draws her knees up along his sides, wrapping her legs around him and spurring his ass with her ankles.

When he sinks into her fully, they both to gasp. No matter how well he prepares her, he's still a tight fit. She's tiny, and he's anything but. How she had managed to get this far into her adulthood without experiencing this level of ecstasy is beyond her, but perhaps it had been for the best. Had she have met Mulder in medical school, she likely would have flunked out.

He starts off slow, lazily and purposely sinking into her and rotating his hips in a way that ensures that she will feel every inch he has to offer her. The lewd sounds of their sexes as they mesh together fill the air mixing with the crackle of the fire and their moans of pleasure.

"God, Mulder," she moans. "You feel so good. Don't stop. Don't ever stop."

As he begins to pick up the pace, she can feel his balls rise, and his body tighten.

"Jesus," he proclaims. "I hope you're close because I'm about to explode. You feel so good, Scully … so fucking good … I can't …"

"Wait," she pants. "I'm—"

Words and breath escape her when he adjusts his pelvis so that his pubic bone brushes across her clit with every stroke.

"Oh, fuuuuck," she moans.

His movements are frenzied and less controlled as he gains momentum, but even in his race to the finish, he still manages to hit her in all the right places. Placing his hands on the backs of her thighs he lifts her legs higher, deepening his penetration to the point that she can feel him pushing against her cervix. The sensation of it is all-consuming and overwhelms her senses to the point where she loses all sense of time and space as her body surrenders to ecstasy.

"Oh, God," she hears him gasp as he continues to pump furiously into her. "You're so fucking tight … ohhhh fuuuuck."

And with one last pump, he is coming on the coattails of her own orgasm. The sensation of her milking every drop of his release intensifies the experience for both them, leaving them both covered with sweat and gasping for air. Aware of his size and not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he starts to roll off of her, but she secures her legs around him, halting his movement. His body is heavy on top of hers, but she doesn't care.

"No, stay … I want to feel you. All of you."

She's not sure what all she said in the heat of their passion, but she knows she must have screamed because there is a scratchiness and raspiness to her voice that wasn't there before.

The fire has now burned down to embers, giving the room a candle-like glow that only serves the increase the poetry of the moment as she runs her fingers through his damp hair. The firmness of his body pressed against hers and the feel of the dick softening inside of her is profoundly intimate and exactly what she wanted.

Tilting her head, she encourages him to raise up and look into her eyes. Without uttering a word kisses him softly, shifting her position under him in a way that signals to him that she is now ready to roll. Lifting himself gently, they both watch as he slips from within her. He's flaccid, but that doesn't make the view any less erotic. Once he's on his back, she raises slightly to reposition her body alongside his, placing her head on his chest and entangling her legs with his. Suddenly, she's overwhelmed and emboldened with the need to tell him what this means to her and how happy he makes her but stops short of formulating the words when his breath evens into a soft snore.

As she closes her eyes to join him, three very dangerous words drift through her mind.

—

GOOD MORNING

—

Scully wakes up in unfamiliar surroundings. She doesn't remember falling asleep or being put to bed, and for a moment, she's confused as to why it's so bright. But as she looks around the room and orients herself, she remembers their passionate night in front of the fire and smiles. The drapes that line the windows are functional, but they are no match for blinding white light of the sun as it bounces off of the snow that is currently blanketing the ground around the cabin. Sighing, she shifts her weight to rest more fully against the man spooned behind her. At some point in the night, he had moved them to the warmth and comfort of the bed without stirring her in the process.

As comfortable as she is in his arms, she needs to use the bathroom. Easing herself gently out of his arms, she slips out of bed and tiptoes across the hardwood floor into the bathroom. The embers of the fire from the night before are long gone, leaving the cabin with a drafty coolness that makes her shiver all over. The toilet seat is freezing, which only serves to further encourage to her quickly void, flush, and wash her hands.

Not bothering to dry them thoroughly, she makes her way back Mulder and warmth of the bed they have shared. Her diving entrance is much less graceful and stealth than her exit, causing Mulder to stir.

His eyes shoot open when the coolness of her flesh presses up against him.

"Jesus, Scully, you're freezing."

"Warm me up then," she says, rubbing her cold feet along his calves and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I forgot to check to see what the heat was set on before I came to bed. I got a little distracted," he says, smiling and pulling the covers more tightly around them as he rubs his hands up and down her bare back.

"Hmmm … I don't recall coming to bed at all."

"I didn't think you'd appreciate waking up on the cold floor by yourself."

"Likely not," she says with a chuckle.

Pulling her body more flush against his, she feels a familiar bulge against her thigh. Smiling, she turns her head to place light kisses across his chest as she runs her hands down his sides.

"Looks like somebody else is awake and ready to go this morning."

"Ah … yeah … he's … he's quite fond of the VERY naked red-head rubbing up against him."

"Is he now?" she asks playfully.

Wanting to pay him back for his more than enthusiastic exploration of her anatomy the night before, she drops her hand down to stroke his growing arousal, placing kisses across his chest and readjusting her position on top of him to slide down further.

"Ugh … Scully."

"Hmmm…" she murmurs, ghosting her lips over his abdomen as she continues her descent.

"I haven't … ummm … I haven't showered since yesterday do you want to …"

"Later."

By the time her mouth reaches him, he's at full attention. Looking up into his eyes, she smiles, positioning herself and taking him into her mouth without preamble.

"OH. FUCK."

In the past, going down on a man had always been power play … a chore to be done in lieu of sex. It's not something she had ever gained any sexual satisfaction from herself. At least not until she had done it to Mulder. Now, as she swirls her tongue around his tip, strokes him, and massages his balls, she can feel herself becoming more and more aroused. Spurred on by his guttural groans, she takes him deeper, enjoying the sensation of his hands gliding through her hair as she continues to pleasure him.

When she feels his balls coil up and his entire body becomes rigid, she eases up, removing her mouth and looking up at him with lustful eyes that relay her intention. She's not ready for the show to be over. She's just getting started.

She can tell that he wants to take her. He wants to grab her waist, flip her over like a rag doll, and have his way with her, but he does none of those things. Instead, he waits and watches, entranced by the authority in her movements as she straddles him, poises him at her entrance, and sinks down on him.

"Fuuuuck, Scully," he all but shouts, tightening his grip on her hips in an attempt to still her before he loses all semblance of control.

The feral look in his eyes and recognition of how wet she has become from pleasuring him is almost too much for her. Taking a deep, measured breath, she closes her eyes and gives them each a moment to settle before she begins to slowly rotate her hips. She can tell by the way he's touching her that it's taking every ounce of control he has to not drive into her. It's killing her too, but she wants to remain draped over his erect, naked form forever.

This morning she woke up wanton and without fear. For the first time in her life, she feels ready for whatever more entails.

She no longer cares what lies ahead so long as he is with her. Though the words may not have been spoken, she is his, and he is hers. And this weekend, in this unremarkable cabin surrounded by snow, she intends to show him that God is, indeed, a woman.

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