From: TBishop27@aol.com Date: 27 Jun 1999 09:12:14 -0700 Subject: xfc One Night Of Passion (Prequel to This Never Happened) From: TBishop27@aol.com One Night Of Passion by tbishop27@aol.com Rating: A steamy R or a mild NC-17 (It's not for the kiddos, faint of heart or easily offended. The topic is sex here folks.) Category: MSR-SMUT M-POV Angsty Author's note: This is a prequel to a recently posted story of mine entitled This Never Happened. One of the responses I received from that piece was a very flattering request for an angsty prequel. I hope this will suffice. Read the follow up piece when your done. It's more fun that way. Disclaimer: This Mulder and Scully are mine. Chris would never let his do such things! Summary: This one is more of a smut scone. Devon cream anyone? Mulder is in serious need here folks. Will he or won't he? Feedback: Can't get enough of it! I love to hear what you think. Warning: Flames will be forwarded to that dark part of my writer's imagination that roams the night in search of victims. One Night Of Passion This is insane. Of all the spooky things I've ever done in my life this has to top the list. I am sitting here in my car outside of Scully's apartment about to go in and seduce her. That would be Dana Scully, my partner, my best friend, my better half. And lately all I can think about is getting horizontal with her and doing the wild thing. Hell, it doesn't even have to be horizontal, I take it any way I can get it. I need her. It's gone beyond dirty little fantasies and undressing her with my eyes when she's not looking. What I have for this woman can only be adequately described as a full blown obsession. I have a psychology degree, I know about these things. I am obsessed with Scully. She's the first thing that pops into my head when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about at night just before I drift off to sleep on my lonely little couch. She's there in my dreams. And in my nightmares too. Lately, though, the dreams have been of the erotic nature. Very erotic nature. She and me doing it on the desk in our office, on the elevator at the Bureau, in the rental car on our way to a case, my motel room, her motel room, A.D. Skinner's office...that one worries me. You name the place, my sick little subconscious has been there, done that...to her. I haven't had wet dreams since I was in high school. Suddenly I'm a horny, hormone charged, seventeen year old kid again. Well, if that doesn't turn her on, I don't know what will. I know she must sense my lust for her. Scully is very observant. Even if she happened to miss the longing in my eyes, she couldn't have missed the ever-present, and ever embarrassing, bulge in my pants whenever she walks into the same room as me. I shudder to think who else might have noticed. The gossip about the two of us is rampant at work as it is, without my anatomy giving evidence to the rumors. I just can't help it, though. She is one hot G-woman. I know a little secret about her that has driven me absolutely crazy ever since I first found out. Scully wears stockings, not pantyhose, under those proper little business suits of hers. I can't look at her perfectly sculptured legs anymore without thinking lace garter belt and thigh high stockings. When we sit next to each other in a meeting I find myself daydreaming about reaching over and sliding my hand up along one silky leg, under her skirt and just a little higher until I reach bare Scully skin so soft and warm. And from there it would only be a little further and...God, I want that woman! So why am I still sitting here in my car? The same reason I sat here for the last three nights and never went in. I'm a coward. Do I think she'd reject me? Doubtful. I'm pretty sure she has her share of unpartnerly thoughts about me. I've caught her looking a time or two. She's made some suggestive comments. And if I wasn't sure before, that batting lesson I gave her for her birthday erased pretty much all doubt. She never once shied away from my rather intimate method of instruction. In fact, I know I wasn't imagining the way she kept wiggling that perfect curvy ass of hers against my screaming hard on. Nope. Scully was definitely sending me a message there. She wants me. God, I hope she wants me. Well, there's really only one way to know for sure. I take a deep breath, grab the door handle and freeze. What am I doing? I love this woman. I can't live without her. If I seduce her, that changes everything. Doesn't it? I don't want Scully to become another Phoebe or Diana. Another member of the women I have known, loved and ultimately been abandoned by club. If I lose her...well I just can't, that's all. This can't turn into an affair because that would surely be the beginning of the end for us. Where does that leave me then? Do I return home yet again dissatisfied? Do I continue on in this hell of endless unfulfilled concupiscence, yearning for something which I can never allow myself to attain? What if I am not strong enough to endure this torture indefinitely? What if I snap one day like that serial rapist, Marshall Vincent. After nearly a decade of sexual frustration over a woman he worked closely with, and was deeply in love with, this seemingly normal accountant became one of the worst serial rapists the windy city had ever known. Fifty-two victims in four months until VCU finally pulled him in. All of them were tall leggy brunettes who wore glasses, just like the woman of Vincent's deepest desire. The woman he could never let himself have for fear of driving her away. God, the similarities were unnerving. I could just as easily slip over the edge one day and prey on Scully look a likes. Sating this desperate longing by acting out my fantasies on helpless victims. It could happen. It could. Just as Vincent had lost that battle with sanity when the torment became overwhelming, so could I. I have to put out this fire within before it begins to burn beyond myself. But how? An affair with Scully is so risky. If we become lovers, Scully will expect so much more of me than I am capable of. She will want, and she deserves, a man that is her emotional equal. Someone strong and independent like her. I could never be what she needs me to be and she will wind up resenting my weakness, and eventually leave me broken hearted and without a reason to live. And the worst part would be that I would have let her down. She would suffer because of my failure. It could never work out. It would be a horrible mistake. I couldn't. I couldn't do that to her. There is only one option left. Tonight has to just be a single, albeit incredible wonderful, event. We will give ourselves permission just this once to be ruled by our desires. One hot, passion filled night and then tomorrow we will tell ourselves it never happened. We're good at avoidance, at pretending our feelings don't exist. Scully and I have mastered the art of denial when it comes to this subject. It'll be like that time in the hallway outside my apartment when we almost kissed. It's been a year now and neither of us has made mention of it. It's locked away in the secret vault of our memories. It's not, therefore, unthinkable to reason a similar end to a night of intimacy between us. A secret never to be told. A memory to turn to when the ache becomes too strong. What I wouldn't give for the memory of her flesh and mine joined as one. To know Scully in the most profound way possible. Just once. That's all I'm asking. One night as lovers and the rest of our lives together as we have been, the closest of friends and devoted partners. We can do this. I can do this. I open the door and slide out of my car into the warm night air. The lights go out in Scully's apartment. It's late, just after midnight. She's probably going to bed. Not without me you don't, Scully. I rush across the street, my heart pounding. Jesus, am I really going to do this? Me and Scully doing the naked pretzel thing? Oh yeah...you better believe it. I knock at her door and wait. Shit! I must be out of my mind. Scully's going to think Eddie Van Blundht has been paroled. She will never believe it's me. She'll probably turn her gun on me and ask me what I've done with her faithful and ever-platonic partner, Fox Mulder. He's dead, Scully. I murder the pathetic son of a bitch myself. You're better off without him. You've waited long enough for that coward to wake up and be a man for you. I hear light footsteps approaching and imagine her standing there on the other side of the door. "Scully, it's me." I reassure her and immediately I hear the lock disengage. She opens the door and stands before me in a well worn United States Navy T-shirt, probably her father's. It engulfs her petite form. I swallow over a lump in my throat realizing all that stands between my lips and her visably erect nipples is a thin piece of fabric. My jeans become unbearably tight. Her eyes take a quick, concerned inventory of my person. When she is convinced I am not in any immediate physical danger, she allows the hint of a relaxed smile to grace her full lips. "Mulder. It's late. What are you doing here?" "Can I come in?" If she knew why I was here would she say no? She moves aside and lets me in to her perfectly kept, tastefully decorated, oh so Scully apartment. I love this place. It is her. And whenever I am here I am surrounded by her. My apartment is the place where I happen to live. Scully's apartment is a home. I am home. She shuts the door and looks at me warily. She never knows what to expect from her crazy partner and I think, deep down, she likes that. Scully likes things unpredictable, not that she would ever admit it. "So what's up, Mulder?" This is it. Um...um... Suddenly I realize I have no idea what so ever how to begin this with her. What am I saying? This doesn't require a detailed plan of attack. I'm not a novice. I know how to seduce a woman. Even if that woman is the most incredible beautiful and intelligent creature ever to walk this earth. She is still just a woman and I am a man and this is the most natural thing for the two of us to do. But. Since I'm only going to get one shot at this, I'd like to make it a night Scully will never forget. I know this woman. She's not big on flowery romance and sweet nothings. She is intense and passionate and attracted to mercurial men. Their unpredictability takes away the control that confines her self-disciplined life. I will give her what she needs tonight. Unpredictable... Don't think, man, just do it! Before I can persuade myself not to, I grab her by the hand and lead her straight into her bedroom. How's that for the subtle art of seduction? She is suspicious. Maybe it's the look I'm giving her. I take her into my arms reveling in the feel of her soft curves pressed tight against my taunt muscles. The evidence of my need is obvious to her now as it presses against her belly. "Jesus, Mulder." She breaths and I feel her tremble ever so slightly. I think she's getting the idea now. She stares up at me with anticipation. Her eyes are deep blue pools that hold in their depths a soul so radiant and beautiful I am nearly blinded by the brilliance. My desire is overwhelming. Her beauty, the smell of that familiar perfume mixed with her pheromones, the heat radiating from her body, such a dangerous combination. My lips descend upon hers hungry for a taste of that which has tantalized me for more than six years. I feast on her as a starving man would a ripe piece of fruit. She tastes far sweeter than anything I can recall. My tongue caresses the roof of her mouth and Scully moans. It is the most erotic sound I think I have ever heard. Somehow, and it is a complete mystery to me, I find the strength to pull back from this kiss and search her heavy lidded eyes for permission to continue. God, please don't let her say no. I'm not sure I could stop. "Mulder. Please. Yes." The poor woman can't form a coherent sentence. This is going to be a lot easier than I thought. I shove her back onto the bed with just the right amount of force, not rough enough to frighten her but not so gentle as to allow her to misconstrue it for playfulness. I want her to know I mean business. I want her to be able to let go and let me be in charge. I imagine this act of her submission is Scully's idea of kinky. It will turn her on. "Take that shirt off." It is the first words I have spoken to her since I entered her apartment. She hesitates just a little. "I'm not a patient man, Scully." I warn. I find myself enjoying this role more than I would have guessed. She shuts her eyes and pulls the shirt off in one quick move. Oh God, what a vision. Scully is laying naked across her bed posed like one of those centerfold lovelies in my favorite skin magazine. I let my gaze wander over every spectacular inch of her bare skin. She is perfect. Pretty little feet with brightly painted toenails, sculptured well toned legs, curvaceous hips, a flat belly, tiny waistline, ample breasts with hard pink nipples begging to be tasted, creamy white shoulders, and her beautiful face framed in a halo of red silk. My eyes are drawn back down to that patch of curls, slick with arousal, and I feel a throbbing from my loins I can no longer ignore. "Scully...you're mine." I tell her and she nods her consent. In a frenzied rush I strip out of my own clothes and attack her like a wild man. One night of passion, I tell myself, and then tomorrow this never happened... Fini Next: This Never Happened Drop me a line if you can't find it and I'll send it to you. You can reach me at TBishop27@aol.com "Life is too short to drink bad wine."