From: xflilbear@aol.com (XF lilbear)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: New "Fantasies" NC-17

Date: 3 Nov 1995 14:19:51 -0500

"Fantasies" - NC-17

by XF lilbear (Ursa Minor)

This is my first attempt at writing anything like this and I have to

confess that I'm still nervous about posting it.  However, a bunch of

folks wrote and encouraged me (whoever said this is a friendly bunch

was right!) to post this.  Thanks again to all of you who wrote, and

especially to Karen, who gave me the title.

I should warn everybody now that this is NC-17.  If you don't know what

this means you're too young to be reading it, anyway.  So flame me for

other aspects of the story if you want (I'm hoping you won't) but YOU

HAVE BEEN WARNED about the adult content.

The characters belong to Chris Carter and 10-13 and Fox and probably

a whole bunch of other people none of whom have I asked for permission.

I'm certain he would never sanction this scene, which I wrote as a

reaction against that thread (you know the one I mean) that somebody

posted recently.  It's kind of - different.  I hope you like it.

- Ursula

               She glanced up from her journal and looked at him over

her glasses.  He was watching her with that odd, speculative

look that let her know there was something he wanted to ask her

but didn't quite know how.  And he had been watching her for

some time now, she knew.  She closed her journal and took off

her glasses.

               "Fox."  He didn't answer.  "Fox."

               His eyes focused on hers suddenly and he smiled.

               "You're so beautiful ......"

               She felt the familiar ache begin to coil its way through

the pit of her stomach, and lower, spreading tendrils of heat

through her limbs.  She had been mildly aroused all evening,

watching him as he sat there with his long, bare feet poking out

of old jeans propped up on the table, watching the way he chewed

his lower lip and furrowed his brows when something he read

puzzled or intrigued him,  watching his long, lean, sensitive fingers

turning page after page as they read in companionable silence.

               Her perpetual arousal was nothing new.  She had been

turned on by him before their marriage, and almost constantly

since then.  If desire was supposed to temper somewhat after

marriage, she had no basis for that tempering.  She wanted him

more with each new day, and her desire fed on its fulfillment.

               So she smiled at him, a slow, sexy smile, and got up from

her perch on the end of the sofa and walked over to him, holding

out her hand to draw him up.  He smiled up at her and stood, then

lifted her easily in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

               Once there, however, he resisted her attempts to pull him

down on top of her, instead sitting to one side.  She recognized

again the hesitation he had shown earlier, and sat up.

               "What is it?" she asked softly, reaching out a finger to

trace his lower lip.  He shivered and she smiled.  She loved

touching him ...

               He took a deep breath.  "It's ... nothing, really," he said,

dropping his head.

               "It's something," she assured him.  "Wanna talk about

it?"

               He bit his lip and tried again.  "I want ... I want to do ...

something ... with you that ... you ... I dunno," he said haltingly.

               And there it was.  She had expected something of this

nature, knowing his predilection for pornographic movies, all of

which he had destroyed before the wedding.  She had wondered

just how kinky he was, and how long it would be before she

found out, and just what her reaction would be.  Was he into

B&D?  Toys?  Heaven help her, she hoped he didn't like S&M.

               She swallowed hard.  She loved this man, she reminded

herself.  He would never do anything to hurt her .....

               Still, when she spoke, her voice came out in a croak.

"What?"

               Still he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the

bedspread.  Was whatever it was so bad that he was that

afraid to tell her?  Her mind flitted from image to image.  "Fox?"

               "I just want ..." he took a deep breath and his next

words came out in a rush.  "I want to watch you ... pleasure

yourself," he said, and his face began to burn.

               There.  It was out.  He waited.  She would either laugh

at him, or react with horror, or ...

               Her mind spun.  He wanted to watch her ... he wanted

her to perform for him?

               "Fox ... I don't know," she said slowly.

               Her voice gave him hope.  Hope that she wasn't angry, or

disgusted with him.  He lifted his eyes to hers and relaxed slightly.

There was a definite warmth in her gaze. . . .

               "I'm sorry ... if I've embarrassed you .." he whispered.

               "Well, it would be a little ... embarrassing, I think" she

admitted.  "But mainly it's just that ... I don't ... I don't really feel

the need to do that any more," she confessed, her own cheeks

colouring.  She knew that many women after they were married

still gave themselves more personal attention, but Fox ... Fox

was warm and attentive, enough for any woman.  And the pleasure

of being with him was infinitely more wonderful than anything she

could ever give herself.  She glanced up at him.  "Do you really

want.......?"

               He nodded, and reached to stroke her face.  "I want to

watch your face," he said softly.  "I want to know what you like

... what you would do for yourself."

               "Fox, I've told you what I like ... if you want I can..."  She

trailed off at the disappointed look on his face.  This wasn't that

bad, really.  And suddenly her mind began presenting new

possibilities.  After all, wouldn't she find it an incredible turn on if

he were to agree to.......

               "Okay, on one condition," she said softly.  His eyes lit

up.

               "What?"

               "_I_ get to watch _you_," she said firmly.  His face

flushed deep red.

               "I ... ah ........."  Then he realized.  She wasn't just

saying this to get him to change his mind.

               She really wanted to watch him.

               He felt his groin begin to throb more urgently, the ache

increasing.

               "You want me to..."

               She shook her head.  "Nope," she said decidedly, "not

this time.  A solo, at some time in the future to be determined.

And in return," she allowed her voice to take on a teasing, throaty

tone, "I give you a show now." 

               Oh boy ... He didn't know if he could last through this.

"Uhhh ............"

               "Take it or leave it, _Fox_."

               Oh.  She had called him "Fox" in that _Tone_ she used.

No hope now.......

               "Uhhhhhhh........"

               Seeing that he was evidently beyond speech, she smiled

and took his hand and kissed it.  "Tell me what you want," she

whispered.  "Tell me....."

               "I want ... I want," he swallowed.  "Show me.  Show me

what you did before we were married, when you were alone."

               And she understood.  He didn't want to watch her

pleasure herself _now_, he really wanted to see what it had been

like for her _then_, when she had been alone and lonely.

Perhaps this was a way of reassuring himself that he was good

for her, that making love with him was good for her.  It was: it

was beautiful and perfect and everything she had ever hoped for

or dreamed of, and she could tell him that, but he wanted to see

for himself.  He _needed_ to see.  And because of this need,

because she loved him, she needed to show him.

               "All right," she said softly, and nodded.  He got up off the

bed and looked around.  He felt so odd ... this was something he

had wanted for so long, but now he felt like a voyeur in his own

home.  He was somewhat startled when she slid off the bed as

well, and walked past him into the hallway.  He followed, puzzled.

               But when she turned into the guest bedroom it hit him

like a lightning flash.  Her bed was in that bedroom, the bed she

had slept in for those lonely years.  And he understood that she

understood, and was giving him his fantasy.....

               He felt his heart swell and reached for her, drawing her

into a tight, loving embrace.  She wrapped her arms around him

as well and hugged him back.

               "Dana ... if you don't want to do this," he murmured

against the crown of her head.

               "No.  It's okay," she reassured him, and drew back to

gaze up into his face.  "I want this.  I want to give you what you

want."

               "All I want is you," he said sincerely, and she nodded,

knowing it was true.  He hadn't asked this of her because he was

dissatisfied, but because it would somehow fulfill some emotional

need he had.  He bent and kissed her gently and then she

pushed him away.  He went and stood awkwardly in the hallway,

just outside the door.  She looked after him for a minute, then bit

her lip.  Then smiled.

               This could be kind of fun.

               She thought of something and walked quickly back into

the hallway.  "Go out into the living room and give me about ten

minutes, okay?" she asked him softly.  His eyes narrowed but he

nodded, his pulse racing.  _What_ was she up to?

               Dana hurried back to their bedroom and stripped off her

casual clothes.  She turned to the closet and rummaged for a few

minutes.  Which......?  Ahh, yes.  The light green suit ... one of her

older outfits that she had kept because it was comfortable and

flattering and he loved it.  She slipped into the suit, added a pair of

demure earrings and sheer cream stockings, and went into the

bathroom to fix her hair and makeup, pretending that she was

readying herself for another long day of work with Fox Mulder and

the X-Files.

               And as she prepared herself the years stripped

away...........

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>^^^^^^^^^^<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

               She hurried through the kitchen, dropping her laptop case

on the table and checking the answering machine.  No messages.

She was tired and slightly cranky and ... frustrated.  Very, very

frustrated.  Damn whoever had sentenced her to work with Mulder,

anyway.  She hadn't been with a man in a long time and here she

was, side by side with this gorgeous, sexy, infuriating, fascinating

man day by day and she couldn't do a thing about it.

               She thought of the way his eyes, eyes whose colour she

had never been able to determine, twinkled and sparked at her

when he teased her, and of the way she had caught him staring

at her just that afternoon, with a warmth (and longing?) that made

her shiver.

               She wanted him.  She wanted him _bad_.  Wanted to

feel his hands on her body, his mouth on her mouth and her flesh,

wanted to feel him deep inside where the ache was so strong she

sometimes thought she would scream.  She wondered whether

the love she now realized she felt for him had come first, or the

desire.  Or perhaps they had happened simultaneouly.  She only

knew that they had been there as long as she could remember,

teasing her.  Tormenting her.

               She dreamed about him at night.  Hot, sensual dreams

that sometimes made her wake up sweating.  Dreams of slow,

erotic lovemaking and wild, frantic, sweaty sex.  Dreams of taking

him on top of his desk at the Bureau, of ripping his clothes off during

one too many stakeouts, of being forced to share a room or maybe

even a bed with him on an investigation and the close proximity just

being too much.

               That was it.  She couldn't take it any more.  She tried to

hold off but sometimes the tension was just too much, and she

knew from experience that trying to stave off her needs would result

not only in severe frustration but perhaps a migraine headache as

well.

               She kicked off her heels and imagined what he would say

if she told him what was really bothering her.

               "Scully?  You okay?  Still got that headache?"

               "Yeah, Mulder ... I've had it for three days now."

               "Isn't there anything you can do for it?"

               "Well, there's something YOU can do.  Tear my clothes

off with your teeth and throw me on my desk and just take me,

Mulder, ravish me until I don't even know my own name.  Make

me scream for you, Fox, until everyone comes running to see

what's the matter, and then make me scream some more.  Make

me forget every man who's ever lived ... I know you can do

it ..........."

               He would die.  _She_ would die ... it made her blush

just to think about it, and it sent blood rushing to other areas of

her body as well.

               She hurried back to the bedroom.  She would give in.

Just this once.  Again.  She would lie on her bed and touch

herself and imagine him there, touching her, kissing her, making

love to her........

               She moaned and shucked off her jacket, her earrings, and

unzipped her skirt, dropping it to the floor.  She wondered if he had

any idea she wore stockings instead of pantyhose most of the

 time now.  An indulgence of sorts, a way to keep feeling feminine

and desirable inside her severe suits and calm demeanor.

               Scully unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse

quickly, then closed her eyes and slowed down, imagining Mulder's

hands where her hands were, his fingers deftly running down the

placket, pushing the buttons through silk, reaching inside to cup

her breasts ........

               The blouse joined the skirt on the floor and she was clad

only in her panties and bra and stockings.  She hesitated for just a

moment, considering, and then climbed onto the bed ... this bed

she had never shared with a man.  She lay back on the pillows with

her eyes closed, imagining.

               She reached up to stroke her breasts gently, cupping and

softly squeezing the aching flesh, feeling her body becoming more

aroused.  He would touch her breasts gently, she knew - she had

felt his hand at the small of her back, that careful, faint, guiding

touch, enough to know that.  He would kiss her and then kiss her

breasts and his mouth would be soft and firm at the same time.

She imagined his lips just barely brushing her flesh above the

material of her bra, and shivered.  Perhaps he would slide his

tongue under the cloth, darting it over her hard nipple before

reaching around to unsnap it carefully, his eyes glowing as he

pulled it from her shoulders, telling her she was beautiful, that he

wanted her, that he loved her.....

               She discovered she had slid an index finger under the

fabric and was stroking her bare breast.  There was something so

intensely erotic about it that she decided to leave her bra on, at

least for now.

               She slid her other hand down the flat plane of her belly,

stroking around her sensitive navel, then back around to her

buttocks, cupping the firm flesh.  She wondered what Mulder's

buttocks felt like ... firm and strong, she guessed.  She loved the

way his slacks fit him across the seat, and when he wore jeans!

He looked fabulous in jeans ... from the front as well, she thought

with a soft smile.  How many times had she wanted to reach out

and cup that bulge in his jeans, caressing him through the thick

material, holding him and feeling him respond to her ... only to

her?

               Enough of that.  Her fingertips trailed back around to her

front and just barely grazed her pelvis.  She shivered in desire

and arousal.  She only wished he were here.......

               "Mulder," she whispered, squeezing her breast and

stroking her lower body.  She gasped and rocked her hips

upwards.  Then her hands slid to the waistband of her panties and

slid them down and off and dropped them over the side of the bed.

The one hand slid back up to her breast, then her face, and she

cupped her cheek in her palm before running a fingertip along her

lips, the lips she wished he would kiss, then over her throat, and

back down to her breast.  The other hand slid between her legs

and stroked the sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs before

returning to the most sensitive place on her body.  She rubbed

softly, then a little harder, her hips arching up as her other hand

teased her nipple again.  She moaned.  "Oh, Fox ..."  Within a

few minutes she was breathing raggedly and her hand was rubbing

harder, her body rocking against its movements.  She paused and

her hands flew to her back to unfasten the bra, and she flung it over

the side of the bed before cupping both breasts in her hands and

lifting them as an offering to his absent lips.  "Oh, Mulder," she

murmured, "I wish ... oh, please....... Kiss me.  Kiss them....."

Her fingers kneaded the flesh and she squirmed, her hips lifting up

again.  "I need ... I need........." she moaned, and then her hand

slid back down to touch the burning area between her thighs.  She

parted her legs more, bending them at the knee, and arched

upward to meet his strokes, imagining him there between her

thighs.  Her other hand alternated between squeezing and fondling

her breasts and she stroked more firmly.  "Oh, Fox," she groaned,

"I'm so empty ... please, please fill me ... I need you ... Fox, oh,

Fox....."  Her body twisted, thrusting now, needing him there, and

she imagined that maybe _this_ time he would drop by to see her

and, when she didn't answer his knocks, let himself in, maybe

hear her moaning and come back to investigate, and see her there

like this, overcome with passion and need, her naked body

squirming on the bed, needing him.  "Fox, please ... this time, I

need you this time......"

               She bit her lower lip, now to the point of not caring who

found her this way, wishing beyond all that he _would_ come by,

that he would see her and be so aroused by the sight that he

would join her on the bed, touching her as she touched herself

but with fingers that were not her own, his mouth dipping to her

aching breasts, the hard length of his arousal burning into her

thigh, and perhaps bring her to orgasm before taking her, or

perhaps not.  Her eyes would be closed, so she wouldn't expect

it......

               Yes, she could almost feel him there ... she closed her

eyes and concentrated more.  "Fox!" she cried.  "Oh, please ...

now ... take me now....."  Her head thrashed on the pillow and

she felt his hands on hers, increasing the pressure, and then his

lips and tongue on her breasts, sucking and licking and nibbling,

trailing soft kisses down her abdomen........

               And then his hands gently moving hers away and his

tongue on her, and her eyes flew open as she felt a heat and

wetness that was not her own, and she looked down and saw

him there, kneeling over her, his mouth working magic on her

and his hands coming up to cup and knead her breasts, and it

was too much ... a sensory overload, and she screamed his

name and thrashed under him, crying as she came.

               And then he slid up over her to part her lips with his

own, kissing her with deep, hot, drugging kisses, his body

between her thighs and his hands sliding down behind her

buttocks to lift her into him, and he thrust into her and she cried

out, and he thrust into her again and again, and she bucked up

against him harder, lifting her legs to wrap around his back, tilting

herself up to abet the depth of his plunges, and the pace

quickened and became harder and deeper and his mouth dropped

down to suckle at her breast again and she arched and cried out

and came so hard her whole body convulsed with the force of it,

and then she heard him yell her name and his body shook with the

force of his pleasure and she felt him spasm deep inside her, filling

her, and she came yet again with a sweetness that was almost

pain, and they collapsed, panting and sweating, and she wrapped

her body around his and cradled him close, the tears running

down her face, smelling the sweet sweat in his hair.

               The world seemed to spin and dim for a long time after

that, and his body still moved slightly against hers, rhythmically

and instinctively, until he stopped and lay utterly still, and she

heard him sigh a deep sigh.

               She felt utterly exhausted and utterly sated, and just lay

there, stroking his back, feeling his warmth and weight on her

body.

               And then she came back to herself.

               They held one another for long, silent moments, and then

he lifted his head and gazed down at her tenderly.  His eyes were

wet as well.

               "Sweet ... my love," he breathed.  "I ... didn't know........"

               He hadn't known that she wanted him so badly, that she

had dreamt of him for years before their wedding.  And now he

had made that fantasy come true.  For the brief eternity she had

pleasured herself and then he had pleasured her, she had

forgotten who and where she was, and had been once again

Dana Scully, alone and lonely and dreaming of him, pleading

with him to come to her, and he had.

               She closed her eyes and he kissed the tears away.

The End

I didn't ask ahead of time but if it's okay I'd like to dedicate my

first attempt to some of my favourite writers who have influenced

me in different ways: Dan (I forget your last name, the guy who

wrote the "Poems from Mulder" series), DeviXF, Eleanore, Juliettt

and macspooky whose "universes" I guess I kind of appropriated

since I had Fox and Dana married, Sheryl Martin, Ms brooklyn,

Rosie Passanisi, Kelli Rocherolle, Windsinger, XFScully, and I'm

running out of space and hope I didn't offend anyone by leaving

them out or any of the people I did remember by embarrassing

them.  Trust me when I say that I'm embarrassed enough for all

of us, and that I love almost all the stuff on this group.