Title: Made By Time Author: Lydia Bower Distribution: Anywhere, as long as my name stays put and it's archived in its entirety. Classification: V, A, MSR...with a twist Rating: NC-17 for sexual content. Timeline: Takes place after Kitsunegari. Spoilers: Yup. US5. Summary: Mulder reaches out to Scully for comfort...and something more. Author's notes: This one is a little different than my usual fare. Grab a drink, pull up a chair and dive right in. All you need to know is that although this piece is told from Scully's point of view, the poem excerpt that precedes it is all Mulder. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me--though I often wish they did. They are the intellectual and financial property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. They are the spiritual property of David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. I hope you got the Seinfield money, kids! No infringement is intended and no money is being exchanged--at least not on my end. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ I am you, anxious one. Don't you sense me, ready to break into being at your touch? My murmurings surround you like shadowy wings. Can't you see me standing before you cloaked in stillness? Hasn't my longing ripened in you from the beginning as fruit ripens on a branch? I am the dream you are dreaming. When you want to awaken, I am that wanting: I grow strong in the beauty you behold. And with the silence of stars, I enfold your cities made by time. Rainer Maria Rilke ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He slipped into her home in darkness and then to where she lay sleeping. It was the flare of the match and the pungent smell of sulfur that yanked her from sleep. She was reaching for her gun when his hand closed around her wrist. "It's me, Scully." His voice was rough with night-fed pain, his eyes sad and dark in the small light of the newly-lit candle. She released a held breath, sitting up and pushing errant locks of silken fire from her face. "Mulder, what are you doing here? What's wrong?" "Shhh," he murmured and gently placed two fingers across her mouth. "I didn't come here to talk. Tonight we do it my way." His touch was enough to silence her; his demand and her acceptance of it sending a sudden shiver of desire arcing through her. He removed his fingers after a long moment and sat down on the bed. She watched silently as he set the candle on the night stand, casting puzzled eyes his way as he shed his jacket and let it fall to the floor. He twisted around to face her, one leg bent and tucked under the other. He placed his fingers at her temple and drew them down her face. Curling them around the nape of her neck, he pulled her forward and leaned in to close the distance. His lips were warm and soft, his breath a whisper across her skin as he dotted her face with kisses before covering her mouth with his. One hand slid up to bury itself in her hair as the other began to unfasten the tiny buttons on her pajama top. Perhaps it was his utter confidence that caused any protest to die in her throat when he finally broke the kiss. Perhaps it was the longing within her to touch and be touched. It'd been such a long time since she'd allowed herself any pleasure. And so much had happened to them in a few short months. Life changes had altered the ebb and flow of their relationship forever. Nothing could ever be the same. She was content to accept his midnight visit and leave her questions for later. Now, all that mattered was the sensation of his hands against her body, his mouth dropping soft prayers of need on her face, her neck, the line of her jaw. When the last of the buttons had been released, he stopped long enough to strip off his t-shirt. Candlelight flickered and played across the golden skin of his chest. His arms were sculptured marble, his shoulders broad and strong. Returning to her nighttime garment, he pushed the cloth away and slipped it off her arms. "I tried, Scully," he explained, breaking his own request for silence. "I tried to stay away, but I couldn't. Not anymore." "Mulder." Once again, his fingers lifted to quiet her. He shook his head, making clear that only he should be allowed to speak. She thought to argue but then stopped as his hands found her breasts. Warm palms cupped them before long, nimble fingers teased her nipples to turgid points. She breathed a sigh of arousal. "I need to touch you, Scully. I need to feel your life." His eyes caught and held hers. They were fathomless and heavy with desire. "Please don't send me away; not tonight." Her answer was to reach for him. He moaned low in his throat as her lips found his. He curled his arms around her and pulled her down as he stretched out beside her. She traced the broad muscles of his back as their tongues met and parried. Mulder's arm came around her hips and tugged her flush against him. His arousal was evident, pressing firmly against her lower belly. She shifted and threw a leg over his, opening herself to the thigh that slipped between hers. Even through the barrier of their clothing, the contact against her core was like fire. She shamelessly thrust herself against his leg. Gasped her approval when he hitched her thigh higher around his hip, increasing the pressure. Mulder began to make nonsensical noises, whispering against the skin his lips encountered. She grasped his head and drew his mouth to her breasts, shifting until she lay under him. "Yes, like that," she urged as he captured a nipple between his lips and flicked the point of his tongue across it. Desire shot through her and raced down to her center, pooling in a sudden rush of moisture. "So good, Scully. So good," he murmured. His hands danced across her body, touching everywhere he could, but never settling long enough to do anything but tease. She arched against him, squirming on the bed. "Please." "'Please' what?" His voice held a hint of amusement. "Touch me. Oh, Mulder." He grasped her wrist and drew her hand down between them, thrusting into her palm as she cupped him through his jeans. She nipped his bottom lip as his hand turned and his fingers sought out the heat at the apex of her thighs. She swallowed his harsh gasp along with her own when he encountered the dampness that soaked through her panties and pajama bottoms. "God, Scully," he groaned. "You really want this, don't you?" The naked honesty of his amazement was like a lance through her heart. Didn't he know by now how essential he was to her--like air or water or nourishment? Could she have hidden it so well that even after everything they'd been through, he didn't know? "Yes," she answered. "Yes, I want this. I want you." His hand slid up and then immediately back down--this time beneath her clothes and against her naked flesh. Her hips bucked from the bed as two fingers slid easily inside her. Mulder lowered his head and flicked his tongue across first one nipple and then the other. His fingers were working exquisite magic, sliding in and pulling out in perfect rhythm. He peered up at her with hooded eyes, rebellious locks of chocolate brown hair falling across his brow. "Tell me, Scully," he demanded. "Tell me how to touch you." Her mind was screaming that he must already know. He knew everything there was to know about her. He had from the very beginning. What could she tell him--what did he mean? She chose to take him literally. "Touch...." she hesitated, shamed by her own embarrassment. "My clit...I want you to touch my clit." His fingers immediately slipped from her heated sheath and slid upward, landing firmly on the small bud at the top of her sex. He rubbed slickened fingers against her, moving them in small circles. Her eyes slammed shut against the intensity of his touch, the power of his eyes boring into hers as Mulder expertly fingered her swollen folds and sensitive clitoris. "Look at me." His words were rough and businesslike; an order, not a request. "I...oh, God, I can't." "Scully, look at me." She forced her eyes open. He hovered above her, his face flushed with his arousal. His eyes were wild but attentive--like those of an animal caged but never broken. He repeated his earlier plea. "Tell me how to touch you." She frowned, her brow knitted in confusion. "I don't... Oh..." His fingers plunged back inside her, none too gently. "I don't know what you mean." "Tell me what it's gonna take." His fingers left her as the words left his mouth. She gasped at the sudden loss of sensation, wanted it returned. Mulder came up on his knees and gathered the waistband of her pajamas in his fists, yanking them down with her panties. He tugged them free at her ankles and tossed them on the floor. He spread her thighs and unfolded from his crouch. Stretching out on his stomach, his chin brushing against the thatch of auburn curls between her legs, he looked back up at her. "Tell me what I have to do, Scully." The desperation in his voice was shocking to her. Foreign. And all the more puzzling because it also contained more than a trace of raw determination. And then it dawned on her. Mulder was afraid. Of what, she couldn't say. Her? This night? What he was doing or wanted to do? She released the fistful of sheet she held and brought her fingers to his face. She caught his eye and held it. "Just make love to me. That's all." A flash of disappointment swept across his features and was just as quickly gone. She started to question him, the words fading into a low groan as his mouth came down on her. She thought she heard him mumble, "It's not enough," against her, but couldn't be certain. Moments later she didn't care. Because how was she supposed to think, to do anything but feel, when he was licking and sucking her tender flesh? How could she be expected to be rational when his tongue was flicking against her clitoris with such skillful precision? His lips and tongue left her too soon, just as she was soaring upward to embrace the cleansing fire of her release. Curses borne of frustration flew from her mouth as she grabbed his head and tried to force him back down. And then fingers of steel wrapped around her wrists and pulled her hands away. Mulder backed off the bed and quickly shed his jeans and boxers. His cock reared up, rigid and throbbing, engorged with his life's blood. He knelt between her thighs. And in one violent motion, grasping her hips in his hands, pulled her towards him and buried himself deeply inside her. She yelped in pain, startled by his sudden assault. He was so large and it had been so long. Her inner muscles, clamping tight against his invasion, telegraphed to her muddled brain every ridge and pulsing vein of his cock as he began to thrust into her. The information was translated into a chaotic blur of pleasure and pain. She looked up at Mulder with wide eyes, her breath forced out of her in tiny grunts; perfect counterpoint to his hips as they slammed against her. She hardly recognized him. Beads of sweat gathered on his face. His eyes were black marbles, untamed and fearsome, set in the face of a desperate man. He didn't shut his eyes against her study of him, refusing to look away or escape into the darkness closed eyes would afford him. His warm breath bathed her face in rhythmic bursts. His words, when he spoke, were little more than growls sprinkled between thrusts of his hips. "Is this...is this what it'll take...Scully? Is this what I...have to do? If I fuck you long enough....and hard enough...will it bring you back to me?" Her mind clicked over in understanding even as her body cried out for release. It was no contest: her physical needs outweighed everything else. She was balancing on the brink of a precipice, threatening to shatter into a million pieces. Her only hope of survival was to rush headlong into the oblivion Mulder's relentless pounding was promising her. She gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, as her legs wrapped high around his hips. She met him thrust for thrust, lifting her hips and tilting her pelvis to increase the contact against her clitoris. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her head rolling back and forth on the pillow. Oh, she was so close and this was so good. Yes. Like that. More. Just a little more. Scully was so far gone she didn't even realize she was speaking aloud, her pleas becoming a chant that filled the room with its intensity. Mulder joined in, his "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," urging her along. Her hands flew down and she grabbed his ass, her body tensing on one final thrust against him. "Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Give it to me, Scully. All of it." And then she was there. Flying, falling, opening herself to the void, embracing it as strong arms enveloped her and impassioned kisses were pressed onto her shoulder, her neck, the smooth planes of her face. She rode the waves with utter abandon, feeling her body and his melting and coalescing into a whole before melting again. He gave her a few moments of blessed stillness before he began thrusting anew, struggling towards his own pinnacle. She held him tightly--within her arms, within her core. Her hands ran up and down his sweat-slickened back and rounded ass in long, heavy strokes. His face was buried in the join of her neck and shoulder and she turned her head and whispered encouragements in his ear. On and on he went, slamming into her with ferocious determination, until she thought she'd split in two. Just as she was considering stopping him long enough to roll them over and take the top, she felt a tremor run through him and knew his journey was almost completed. A dozen short, shallow thrusts brought it to an end. A guttural moan tore from his throat as he slammed into her a final hard, deep time. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he finished spending himself with clumsy thrusts that slowed and finally stopped. He left her too soon, almost immediately rolling over onto his back. They lay side by side, barely touching. Their labored breathing filled the room with harsh music. Scully licked dry lips and pushed her tangled hair from her face. She glanced over at Mulder. His left arm was tucked under his head, his right laying across his chest. His eyes were open and focused on the ceiling. "You wanna tell me what that was all about?" she quietly asked. His only response was to turn his head and give her an inscrutable look. And then he pulled his eyes back to the ceiling. "Or should I give you my take on it?" His hand lifted from his chest in a weary, dismissive wave. "Be my guest." Her eyes slid shut, dismayed by his sudden apathy. Silent and mysterious might be appealing in some situations, but this wasn't one of them. She opened her eyes and forged ahead. "I think you're angry with me. Because I've been so distant lately. Because you don't feel like you've had my support--or even my presence, sometimes. But you know what I've been through, Mulder, and you know--" "It's not enough any more." It took her a second to catch up. "What's not?" He didn't answer her question--not literally, anyway. He came back with, "I watched you die, Scully." She willed him to turn and look at her. Searched desperately for just the right words to say to him. Neither happened. She chose silence by default. "I watched you die," he repeated. "And even though I know on a rational level that it didn't happen, that I was pushed to see it, every time I close my eyes...." She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. "I see you with that gun to your head. I watch you pull the trigger. And the blood...so much fucking blood." Scully rolled onto her side and took his hand, pulling it down between them and lacing her fingers between his. "I'm sorry, Mulder." He chuffed softly. "I don't need an apology." "Then what do you need?" "I need more," he immediately responded, and finally rolled over to face her, bracing his weight on his elbow. "I had myself convinced it was enough, but it's not. Not after that night." He sighed and glanced away. His next words were filled with quiet intensity. "I can love you better than this, Scully, more than this. But I can't do it if you won't let me." "Mulder, I understand what you're saying--" He cut her off again. "Do you? I wonder sometimes." It was obvious he had something he was bound and determined to say. She knew him well enough to know when to keep her mouth shut. When no amount of arguing would budge him the tiniest bit. He lifted his hand. "This..." he gestured to encompass them both, along with the bed they lay on and the events that'd just conspired, "...this is a game we've always played by your rules, Scully. From the first time it happened, you insisted that it could never be more than this. That'd you'd give me your body but never your soul, and that we had to keep this separate from everything else in our lives. You were the one who made me promise I'd never come to you, that it had to be your choice when and where and why." She opened her mouth to protest but never got the chance. "I know, I know, I agreed to it. I never questioned it. I figured I was lucky to have that much and it would be stupid to ask for more. And so I waited. And sometimes you came to me and sometimes you didn't." His eyes were honey-brown and stern, but his fingers lifted to her face and betrayed him with their tender caresses. "I waited for you after your remission. I waited after you lost Emily. I wanted to comfort you, Scully, I *needed* to--as much for me as for you. I waited after the night in the warehouse, after I thought you'd died and then I ended up pointing a gun at you, again. I waited, Scully, and you never did come to me--not one of those times, or any others in between." He sighed and flopped over onto his back. "I got tired of waiting." She'd know this would happen eventually, that someday it wouldn't be enough and Mulder would ask her for more. This inevitable confrontation was something she'd anticipated and dreaded for almost two years. Contrary to her natural impulse to face things head-on and with no delay, she'd managed to convince herself it wasn't necessary here--that Mulder would never force her to face the reality of her love for him. She'd been a fool from the start. "Mulder, I know this is hard for you to understand." "No, it's not," he countered. "It's not hard at all. That's the really sad part. I understand that you're scared. What I don't understand is why." It was a fair question, but damned if she could come up with an answer. What, really, did she have to be afraid of now? She caught his eye and told him truthfully, "I don't understand it either, Mulder." His eyes moved over her face for a moment before a smile split his face. He barked a wry laugh and said, "That's the first really honest thing you've said to me in a long time, Scully. Thank you." His grin was contagious, his words were pretty much fact and the absurdity of the whole situation finally got to her. She returned his smile with one of her own. There was a long silence before Mulder hummed low in his throat and mumbled, "C'mere," reaching over to pull her against him. She settled in with her cheek against his chest. Lying there in Mulder's sheltering arms, Scully wondered how she could have deprived herself of this for so long. At the same time, she marveled at the fact she hadn't driven Mulder insane with her forced ambivalence. They'd both suffered through so much the last year. And although she'd enforced the distance herself--had chosen it--denying herself any measure of comfort from Mulder, he'd had no choice at all. He was an honorable man, and he'd accepted and followed the guidelines she'd laid down for them. She supposed it shouldn't come as any surprise--Mulder was used to denying himself, had practically made it an art form. She'd insisted he not express his feelings for her in any but the most innocuous of ways. She'd welcomed his passion only in the work and then later in the sex, never allowing it to spill over into what she'd believed was the rest of her life. And he'd stood before her, solemn and sensitive and vulnerable, and had allowed her to twist what they had into something cheap and meaningless. Just so he could be with her, so he could love her the only way she'd let him. There was no "rest of her life;" not really. There was the work and there was Mulder. What little time that left her was spent with her family. And hiding from them the reality of her relationship with Mulder was beyond ludicrous. Her mother had recognized the bond between them before Scully had. Even Skinner seemed to sense that his rouge FBI agents shared something that went beyond mere partnership, or even friendship. It was beginning to look like the only person Scully was trying to fool was herself. "Hey, Scully, I got a proposition for you." She lifted her head and peered up at him. "What?" "I propose we throw out the old rules and make some new ones." She automatically tensed up and looked at him warily--by habit, more than anything else. "Don't look at me like that," he lightly admonished. "Just hear me out, okay?" She nodded before lowering her head back to his chest. "Okay." "All right," he began. "Proposal number one." His voice rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against her cheek. "We follow through on this thing. See where it takes us. And we give it everything we've got. This shouldn't be any different than anything else we do, Scully. What we've got deserves at least the same attention to detail as we put into the work." She snorted quietly. "You make it sound like we're thinking about going into business together." "Aren't we?" he rejoined. "A committed relationship is like a business. Sorta. Kinda." There was a small silence. "Anyway, I was just trying to appeal to your practical side. The Special Agent who carefully weighs all her options before making a decision. But there is the distinct possibility I'm going about this the wrong way. Maybe I should be appealing to the woman instead." She pressed a kiss on his flat brown nipple and felt his arms tighten around her. "Maybe you should be." He chuckled quietly. "Okay, I can do that, too." His chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "Scully, I know it's been rough for you lately--it has for both of us. But, dammit, I'm here, and I always have been. I'm not asking you for any guarantees. I don't expect you to suddenly undergo a transformation and change the way you deal with things in your life. We all have our own ways of coping. So I'm not going to bug you if you withdraw a little, when things get tough for you. I know how important your independence is." She heaved a frustrated sigh. He'd been so close. "Mulder, it's not just that. It's so much more complicated than any one thing." "Which again begs the question: why are so scared? What are you afraid of?" She shoved up and perched on the edge of the bed, gathering a sheet around her. "I don't know, dammit, I don't know!" She felt him shift on the bed behind her. Felt the warmth of his hand as it came to rest at the dip of her waist. She didn't understand, herself, why this should be so hard for her. How could she possibly begin to explain it to Mulder? His hand shifted, moving to caress her back in long, slow strokes. She bowed her head and blinked back sudden tears. After a long silence Mulder told her softly, "Well, I think I may know." Her reply was meant to sound skeptical. Instead, it came out skirting the edge of a plea. "Oh yeah? Do tell." "I think maybe you're not real sure about my feelings for you. And that you're holding back because of it." There was a pause. Time enough for the tension in her body to ratchet up a notch. "Dana, will you look at me, please?" She took a cleansing breath and swiped at her eyes before turning around to face him. Mulder pulled himself up and leaned against the headboard. He reached out and caught one of her hands in his, enfolding it as his thumb brushed across her knuckles. He looked up into her eyes and held her gaze for a long moment. He had on his best sincere puppy-dog face, the one that'd melted the resolve of many an unsuspecting witness or uncooperative police official. The one he'd used on her countless times. Only this time it was different. Scully knew in her heart that this time it was genuine. "I've never been very good at expressing myself when it comes to things like this. Up until a few years ago, I didn't have any reason to. But I want you to know something, Scully. I want you to know how important you are to me, and how much I need you." He shook his head in obvious frustration. "And I don't just mean this, the sex. I'm talking about all of it. I couldn't do it without you." "Couldn't do what, Mulder?" He shot her a tiny grin and made an uncomfortable face, his eyes darting away and back. "Any of it. Getting up in the morning. Coming into work. Going out to chase UFOs or giant sewer-dwelling fluke worms or trees that come to life and pull a man down into the ground. You give me the strength to keep going, Scully. And I...." He broke off and dropped his eyes. Pushed out a short breath between pursed lips. "Whew, this is harder than I thought it would be," he admitted. "Mulder, you don't have to--" "Yeah, I do. I do. Because you need to hear it and because I need to say it." He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. And everything Scully wanted was in his eyes. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the unexpected sob threatening to escape her. Her heart skipped a beat, resuming at a rapid pace. "I love you, Scully." His words were slow, each one distinct and precise and deadly serious. "You make me whole. And no matter what happens now, I will always feel this way about you. You will always be my best friend." He brought her hand to his mouth and tenderly unfolded it, placing a kiss in the center of her palm. "I want a life with you, along with all the messy things that go hand in hand with that. I don't just want to share an office with you during the day, or a bed at night when one of us had a shitty week. I want all the other stuff, too. And I can't promise perfection, but I will give this everything I've got." Scully could actually hear the floodgates open. Something old and stretched almost beyond endurance suddenly gave way within her. She studied the man sitting cross-legged next to her, unashamedly naked in more ways than one. Saw the truth of his words written large on his face and in his eyes. In the passing of an instant, all her fears left her. Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Mulder reached up to brush them away. "Aw, Scully...." She launched herself into his waiting arms, knocking them both off-balance. Mulder's head connected solidly with the headboard as they fell back. "Ow!" he yelped. "Jeez, Scully, you trying to kill me?" She planted kisses all over his face as he gingerly rubbed the back of his head. "Of course not. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you were dead." She pulled back and they traded wide, toothy grins. He closed the distance and gave her a long, wet, thorough kiss before scooting them down and flipping her over. He settled comfortably between her open thighs, rocking easily in the cradle of her hips. She softly gasped as she felt him rapidly growing hard against her, and thrust up to meet him. He looked down at her with predator's eyes and wet his mouth with the tip of his tongue. "Hey, Scully?" "Yes, Mulder?" "Just so we don't have any misunderstandings... Does this mean what I think it means?" She smiled up at him and then felt it slowly fade. Pinning him with her eyes, she solemnly gave him the only answer she had to give, the only one he needed to hear. "Everything I've got, Mulder. Everything." He silently enfolded her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ THE END