All I can say as I begin this story is -- don't flame me!  This 
isn't, realistically speaking, how I would expect an erotic 
encounter between Mulder and Scully to take place -- but 
given what we've seen, I think it's an intriguing possibility.  
Try not to be too judgmental -- this is a story about sex, and 
love, but it's far from sweet.  It is absolutely, positively 
NC17; do NOT read this if you are underage or faint of 
heart.  These characters are the property of the Fox 
Network and used without permission.  Distribution of this 
story is ok as long as I am listed as the author and the story 
isn't edited without my input; if you're going to archive it, 
please get my permission first.  I would welcome all 
comments -- please send them to ImXFScully@aol.com.

*******************************
WHITE ROSES
by
XFScully
ImXFScully@aol.com
*******************************

Part One

"I can tell this is a difficult subject for you, Dana," Dr. 
Kossoff said gently.  "Please don't be embarrassed."

"I am embarrassed," Scully admitted.  "I'm ashamed.  This 
isn't the sort of thing I usually discuss."

"But if it's important enough for you to bring it up here -- "

"Then it deserves attention.  I know, I know.  Believe me, 
this has troubled me for years."  She sighed, looked up at 
the ceiling to help reduce her mortification.  Finally, she 
managed to say it.  "We'd talked about my  -- problem -- "

"Your sexual inhibitions?"

"They don't feel like inhibitions," she said, feeling her 
cheeks burn.  "But I don't know.  I have desires -- everyone 
does -- but they're so -- so -- "

"You're right, Dana.  I used the wrong word.  Your 
difficulty is that all your sexual desire, all your sexual 
feelings, are channeled into one particular kind of fantasy."

"They're shameful. They're not what I should want."

"There's no 'should' about sexual desire, Dana.  We all want 
different things, things that wouldn't be apparent from our 
daily habits and character."

"You don't understand," Scully said, clutching her hands 
together in her lap. She remembered Ed Jerse for a moment 
-- terrifying and dangerous as he had been, she had felt one 
lone, long-awaited stab of pure passion when he'd clutched 
her to him.  Was that what she truly wanted?  Confusion 
overwhelmed her, and she covered her face with her hands.  
"I'm sorry I ever brought this up."

"Don't be."  Dr. Kossoff's voice was gentle.  "Dana, in past 
sessions, we've discussed some of the burdens you carry 
from your childhood.  Your relationship with your father 
still influences you strongly -- still makes you want to be 
the good little girl.  It doesn't really surprise me that you've 
carried this need over into your sexual life.  You still want 
to be the good girl -- to deny your sexual feelings.  But you 
have these feelings all the same.  And you associate those 
feelings with being bad."

"They are bad," Scully insisted.  "I can climb into bed with 
a man without guilt.  I can," she repeated, to convince 
herself more than Dr. Kossoff.  "But what I'm talking about 
isn't normal sex.  It's abnormal, and I don't want to want 
that."  

Dr. Kossoff steepled her hands and looked at her patient for 
a few moments before answering.  "There are some sexual 
desires that can be self-destructive.  But it wouldn't surprise 
me if you weren't -- keeping an open mind.  Would you be 
willing to try an experiment?"

Scully's embarrassment diminished somewhat, overtaken 
by curiosity.  "What would that be?"

"Do you keep a journal of any kind?"

"Yes -- "

"Have you ever written about your fantasies in your 
journal?"

"Oh -- no.  No, I never have."

"Why don't you try sitting down and writing out your 
fantasy?  Ask yourself what you really do want; be honest.  
More open than you've been able to be with me in person.  I 
think actually putting your desires into words would 
remove some of the shame you feel about them.  And 
maybe then we could go through what you've written 
together.  I know it's been hard for you, telling me about it 
-- do you think this approach might help?"

Scully sighed.  "I'll try.  I can't promise any more than that."

***

"Hey, Scully, you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said, throwing a quick smile in her 
partner's direction.  He was wearing those glasses today -- 
why should glasses be so unbelievably sexy?  As soon as 
she'd thought it, Dana stepped down on that stab of desire, 
hard.  He's your partner, Dana.  And no matter how much 
you like him, it's against the rules to sleep with your 
partner.

Mulder knew the rules too.  But he seemed much more 
willing to ignore them, at times.  At least, he never shied 
away from any chance to touch her, to lean in close to her - 
- Stop it, Dana.

"You've just been a little preoccupied lately.  I notice these 
things, you know.  I worry about you."  His voice was softer 
than usual.

"You don't have to worry, Mulder."  She knew she could 
never, ever confide her concerns to him -- Scully felt a 
flush of embarrassment at the very thought -- but it wasn't 
fair to leave him completely out of the picture.  He was, 
after all, her closest friend.  "I -- I started seeing Dr. 
Kossoff again.  I have some things I want to work through 
with her.  So maybe some of my attention is focused on 
that.  But it's okay."

He nodded; she could tell he burned to ask more questions, 
but he kept himself in check.  "Let me know if you need 
anything."

"I will."

Mulder didn't think much more of that conversation; he 
knew she had to be feeling very confused to return to 
therapy, but he had faith in Scully's ability to take care of 
herself. 

And, no matter how much he might like to take care of her 
-- he'd wait to be asked.  If she ever did ask --

So little did he reflect on their brief talk that he didn't even 
think twice about ruffling through her papers later that 
week.  The usual expense forms and investigation reports 
were all stacked up as usual, perhaps a little less organized 
than Scully generally kept them.  But not the file on the 
Morgan case -- he sighed and pulled open the desk drawer.  

"Scully, why are you always out to lunch when I lose 
something?" he asked the sky, as he pulled forth a file 
folder.  He didn't immediately notice that there was no case 
number on the top, and never did associate it with her confession about t=
herapy.  "Let's see -- "

He began reading, and he froze.

(I want to be dominated.  Bullied.  Controlled.  I want my 
hands tied behind my back, a blindfold over my eyes, to be 
forbidden to do anything but submit.  I want to submit, to 
surrender, to be treated like a whore.  Or a slave.  I want--)

Fox snapped back to his senses and shut the folder, threw it 
down, slammed shut the drawer.  His pulse pounded so 
hard he could feel his chest thumping against his shirt.

Scully wrote that?  Scully?

He stared at the desk drawer, wild with curiosity.  He 
wouldn't read any more -- he wanted to, oh, he wanted to, 
but he'd violated her privacy too much already.  

Scully?

He was shocked.  

And thrilled, surprisingly thrilled.  His reaction shook him 
more than anything else.  He could never speak of it.  But 
for the rest of that day, he was barely able to speak to her at 
all.

***

"Dana -- I see in your face that you expect me to be 
shocked.  But I'm not."

"Are many people -- sick like this?"

"This isn't sickness, Dana.  If taken to extremes, yes, 
masochistic behavior can be detrimental, very much so.  
But I don't see that here, not in what you've written.  What 
worries me isn't what you wrote down, but what you 
didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Many, many people find this sort of behavior arousing.  
Normal, healthy people.  But they're usually aroused by 
other types of sex play as well.  Is this the only truly 
stimulating fantasy you have?"

"Yes -- it always has been."

"Have you considered your sexual life to date satisfying?"

"No," Scully admitted.  "I mean, I don't dislike normal sex.  
It's enjoyable.  It feels good.  Sometimes -- I can come very 
close to orgasm.  But I never have, not with a man.  Only 
by myself -- " She blushed yet again.  "Only when I have 
these fantasies.  I don't want it to be this way."

"All right -- we do have something to work on, although I 
don't think we have to get rid of your fantasies to do it.  In 
fact, it would be better if we didn't."

"I want to enjoy normal sex.  I don't want to wallow in 
these -- these -- "

"Dana -- I realize we've just begun this, and my theory may 
be incorrect.  But will you hear me out?"  When Scully 
nodded, Dr. Kossoff continued.  "My initial guess is that, 
during your childhood, you strongly associated sex with 
being bad.  And so you tried to rid yourself of those urges.  
But you didn't -- no one ever can.  So, you've created 
scenarios in which someone takes control of you -- and 
you're able to experience sexual pleasure without willingly 
participating.  Without guilt.  Someone's making you do it, 
and so, you're not to blame."

She sat quietly, digesting that for a minute.  She longed to 
dismiss the theory -- but found she couldn't.  "Maybe -- just 
maybe that's true.  But how do I get past it?"

"First, you should embrace those fantasies instead of 
pushing them away.  As long as you're repelled by the only 
scenario that has ever given you sexual release, you'll never 
be able to expand those horizons."

"How do I do that?  You're not suggesting -- "

"I think a good way to start might be through exposure.  
Magazines or videos that feature this sort of behavior.  
Allow yourself to watch or read, and stop being repulsed by 
it.  Get used to the idea of others enjoying this kind of 
behavior.  Maybe that will allow you to see this as one 
acceptable form of sex.  Once you accept these desires, you 
may be able to accept others.  Will you give it a try?"

"This isn't what I had in mind."

"I know.  But I do think this is where we need to begin."

"Okay," Scully finally sighed.  "I'll try."

***

She spent the rest of the day preoccupied and restless -- 
even, if she dared admit it, somewhat excited.  Dana 
realized, belatedly, the cleverness of Dr. Kossoff's 
approach; she was playing into her inhibitions, ordering her 
to examine them so she could do so without guilt.  It was 
embarrassing to realize how well that worked.

But how to begin?  The thought of entering an adult 
bookstore or video market appalled her; she knew full well 
that a petite, attractive woman would not be able to walk in 
and demand material on submission and domination --  and 
not end up with unwelcome company.  Then she suddenly 
realized she didn't have to.

Mulder!  Mulder had so much of this stuff -- he had to have 
a few tapes that would fit the description she was looking 
for.  Borrowing one of those would be so much easier than 
going out and buying something.

But how on earth could she ever ask him?  She cringed at 
the very thought.  No -- she'd have to find some way to get 
into his apartment and browse around.  He had so many 
X-rated movies that he surely wouldn't miss one tape.   Yes 
-- that was where she'd begin.

***

"Umm, Mulder -- do you still have my copy of Clan of the 
Cave Bear?"

"What?"  He looked faintly dazed, as well he might.  "I 
borrowed that, didn't I?  To read on the plane -- God, 
Scully, that must have been a year ago."  

"I think you've still got it," she said, nodding insistently.  
"I've been wanting to reread it -- "

"Clan of the Cave Bear?"

" -- and I would really like my copy back."

"Okay," Fox shrugged, snapping shut his briefcase.  "I'll 
look around for it tonight and bring it in in the morning -- "

"Actually, I was hoping I could come by and get it tonight.  
I'm really eager to plunge in again."  She smiled at him 
hopefully.

"Clan of the Cave Bear?"

"I know, I know.  It's a guilty pleasure."  Dana gave him 
one of her rare, full-lipped grins and Mulder found himself 
reminded of the other guilty pleasures she'd described.   
Embarrassed by this sudden flush of desire for her, he 
grabbed together his coat and keys.  "Sure, come on by.  I'll 
be at the gym until eight or so -- "

"Oh -- that's kind of late, isn't it?  Would it be okay if I let 
myself in after work?  I can just hunt around for it myself, 
and not bother you at all."

He crossed his arms and looked at her penetratingly for a 
moment; she felt a shiver in her stomach, suddenly certain 
he could see through her flimsy lie.  But all he did was nod.  
"Sure thing.  Just don't say I didn't warn you about the 
mess."

"I'll cope," she smiled.  

That was almost too easy, she congratulated herself later, 
letting herself into Fox's apartment.  Now she had a couple 
hours to find the tape she was looking for -- and, hopefully, 
her copy of Clan of the Cave Bear to complete her cover 
story -- and get out.  She felt almost like a thief as she came 
through the doorway: somewhat guilty, terrified of 
discovery, and yet exhilarated.  

"Where to begin?" Dana whispered, tapping absently on 
one wall of the aquarium.  The fish jittered about within, 
and the blue light filtering through the water -- the room's 
only illumination -- danced about.  She saw the tiny video 
cabinet in one corner, and stepped to it, flicking on her 
flashlight.  (Why not turn on the lights, Dana?  You aren't 
actually a criminal, no matter how much you may feel like 
one.)

She shone the beam down the titles; some were actually 
legitimate -- "Raiders of the Lost Ark."  "2001."  "Children 
of a Lesser God."  However, the majority of the labels were 
in Mulder's own handwriting, with titles like, "Wet and 
Wild," or "Cabin Fever."  Not very descriptive, Scully 
thought.  How on earth was she to know which of these 
would be what she was looking for?  She certainly didn't 
have the time -- or the inclination -- to watch them all!

Near the bottom, thought, her flashlight illuminated two 
words written in scarlet --

"My Master."

"Now that sounds promising."  She tugged it out of its slot 
-- there were a few open cubbyholes, so hopefully he 
wouldn't notice one more.  Dana started to slide it in her 
coat pocket, then thought -- no, let's make sure.  After one 
worried glance at her watch -- it was only six-thirty; she 
decided to take the risk, and popped the tape into Mulder's 
VCR.   The TV came to life automatically, shimmering 
with silver static for a moment before flashing into life.  
The movie had been stopped previously at a rather strategic 
scene -- Mulder watched this, Mulder liked this --

Don't think about that.

A woman knelt on a stone floor before a man in black.  She 
was half-naked already, her clothes apparently having been 
ripped to shreds on her body.  She raised her arms in 
supplication to the man -- "Please -- please, I'm begging 
you -- "

"No mercy," he growled, grabbing her wrists.  The woman 
onscreen cried out, more in pleasure than in pain, as he 
began winding a rope around those wrists, tying them 
together.

This is disgusting, Scully thought.  At any rate, she thought 
the words.  She didn't feel them.  Dana felt her heart begin 
to pound as the man began stripping away the woman's few 
remaining clothes.  "I want to look at you," he commanded.  
"Show me." As the woman pouted before her captor, Scully 
felt a familiar but surprising warmth swelling between her 
legs, shaming and thrilling her all at once.  She heard her 
breath coming faster and faster.

She did not hear the door open.

Mulder had come home in a bad mood -- his racquetball 
partner had stood him up for the second time in a row.  But 
he'd brightened when he saw Scully's car out front.  He'd 
find her inside searching the bookshelves, he figured, and 
would probably be more than happy to catch a movie.  
Maybe some dinner.

He never, in his wildest dreams, expected to find her like 
this.

Silently, he stole up behind her.  He couldn't see the screen 
-- Dana stood between him and the television, framed in 
the flickering light it projected.  But he could hear the 
voices, going through a scene he knew by heart.

"No -- please no -- "

"Do it."

And a sensual groan of pleasure/pain, as she submitted --

Dana stood there, watching it, breathing so hard he could 
hear it from feet behind her.  Even as he watched, she 
reached up to the scarf around her neck and -- oh, God -- 
wound it around her wrists, experimenting with it --

He remembered her written words.  Remembered night 
upon night of wanting her.  Saw her shaking and aroused 
and unawares, so close, so close.

Do it.

Fox stepped forward silently and pulled the remote from 
the back of the sofa.  From behind her, he snapped the 
television off.  Scully started, then whirled around. 

"Mulder!"

Pure shock was on her face.  Even in the pale blue light 
from the aquarium, he could see the crimson flush of horror 
on her cheeks.  But there was something else in her face, 
something besides her shame at being caught -- the arousal 
of moments before was still on her, in her, and he could 
still read desire in her eyes.

He faced her silently, trying to control his own wild 
emotions, for a long moment.  She stood speechless before 
him, aghast, unable to answer him.  Mulder met her gaze as 
he set down the remote and placed his hands on his hips, 
surveying her.  Then he whispered, "Take your clothes off."

"What?" 

"Don't talk.  Take your clothes off."  Oh, God, what if she 
doesn't do it -- what if she slaps me across the face and 
walks out of here forever --

Oh, God, can I possibly do this?  I want him -- I want this -- 
it's wrong -- it's bad -- all I have to do is say no and it will 
stop --

She stood still for a few seconds more, then hesitantly 
reached behind her, unfastened her skirt, and let it fall to 
the ground.  Triumph flashed in his eyes, along with a 
sudden eagerness.  She recognized his desire, felt her own 
desire burn brighter because of it.  She pulled her sweater 
over her head, and stood before him in her flimsy peach 
underwear.  

"Everything," Fox said, his voice harder than ever.  He 
made no gesture towards removing his own sweatpants and 
T-shirt.   Slowly, she reached up and unhooked her bra; as 
he lowered his eyes from her face to study her full, 
rosy-tipped breasts, Dana felt a deep ripple of thrilled 
embarrassment.  For a moment she waited there, letting 
him examine her fully before she pushed her panties down 
over her hips and past her knees.   Scully stood naked 
before him, trembling and wild with anticipation.  With 
humiliation, too.  He would never have believed that from 
her -- this obvious shame -- but for some reason, it seemed 
to add to her abandon.  And to his own.  Mulder walked 
towards her, shook his head when she reached tentatively 
for him.

"No.  You don't move, you don't speak, unless I tell you to.  
And you do what I tell you to.  Do you understand?"

She nodded, closed her eyes and shuddered, complete in 
her surrender.  

Fox circled her slowly, studying the curves of her pale skin, 
remembering a candlelit glance years before that had fed so 
many fantasies.  And she was even more beautiful now, 
more than memory, more than imagination.

He ran one hand across her abdomen, feeling her flinch 
from the warmth of his touch.  Over the hollow of her 
stomach, the curve of ribs, to the perfect swell of her 
breasts -- she cried out as he squeezed her there, hard, 
hurting her just a little.  "You like that?  You do, don't you?  
I'll have to find out what else you like.  Or maybe you'll 
find out what I like -- what I want from you -- "

He spun her around to face him and kissed her, hard, 
forcing his tongue between her lips with sharp intensity.  
Dana returned the kiss, drinking him in desperately for the 
few seconds he allowed her before pushing her away.  "Be 
completely still," Mulder whispered, his own voice husky.  

As she stood before him, he reached down to her skirt on 
the floor and pulled loose its thin leather belt.  "Hold out 
your hands," he commanded.

Scully did so, dizzy with longing and terror.  He pulled a 
loop around her wrists, doubled it again, then slipped the 
end through tight.  She whimpered as the edge slid past her 
fragile skin.  Fox paid no attention to that, only rechecked 
his knot to make certain it would hold fast.  Then he picked 
up the scarf she'd been playing with moments before, 
folded it carefully over one hand, then slid it over her eyes.  
She trembled visibly at this last surrender, but accepted it.  
Gave herself over to the tidal wave of wanting building 
within her.

He looked at her for a moment more, wavering and bound 
before him. "Good.  Are you ready?"

She nodded in reply, afraid to speak.

"Kneel down," he ordered.

Dana hesitated only a second, then sank to her knees.  As 
she did so, Mulder pulled off his T-shirt, pushed down the 
sweatpants that could no longer hide his arousal.   He 
watched her for a moment, taking in the image of her 
blindfolded face, as he caressed himself once -- feeling the 
rigid tightness she'd brought him to already.  Fox then ran 
one finger across her soft lips, forcing them open, wider, 
wider.  She gasped once, briefly, as he pushed himself in 
her mouth. After her first moment of shock, Dana gave 
herself over to her task; she began running her tongue up 
and down the length of him, slowly at first, then faster, and 
faster again.  His breath grew jagged and sharp, speeding 
up even as she did.  

"Deeper," he demanded, his voice rougher than she'd ever 
heard it.  Scully obeyed him, drawing him in hard.  Mulder 
gasped as she began, then clutched her face in both hands, 
tilting her head back to sink even further within the hot 
well of her mouth.  He thrust against the back of her throat 
and she nearly choked, but kept going, giving herself over 
to his new rhythm completely.  She felt her hair tumbling 
around her, shaken even as she was.

He groaned -- it would be so easy to come now, he wanted 
to so much, to feel her drain him dry and watch her 
swallow it down.  But no, no -- Fox had waited four years 
to possess her totally.  And possess her he would.

Roughly he shoved her back from him; Dana cried out in 
surprise as she tumbled backwards, unable to block her 
own fall.  She lay on the floor trembling, terrified that she 
had somehow displeased him.  He watched her there for a 
long time, made her wait in a seemingly endless silence 
before he knelt down quietly beside her.  Slowly he bent 
down and lowered his mouth over her breast.  Scully 
moaned as he began lapping softly at her skin -- exquisite 
pleasure, but only for a moment.  Her moan twisted off into 
a muffled cry as he bit into her, not hard, but enough to 
make her every muscle tense.  

Fox leaned away from her and pulled her up by her 
shoulders, then threw her towards the sofa next to them.  
Her head and shoulders landed on the cushions, leaving her 
knees on the floor.  He came up behind her, pushing her 
legs apart, and slid one hand between them.  As his fingers 
thrust into her, she whimpered -- she knew the ultimate 
moment was coming, and was suddenly possessed by a 
wild, desperate desire to stop it, to stop him and get out of 
here --

But then he was on her, in her, shoving himself into her so 
deep and so hard that she felt as if she were split in two.  
Dana screamed, not caring who heard her, until he grabbed 
her by her hair and lifted up her head.  "You want this," 
Fox whispered.  It wasn't a question.

It was true.  It was true.  I want this, I want him, just like 
this -- the pressure built within her as he thrust into her, 
over and over, shoving her against the sofa in an insistent, 
quickening rhythm.  Every fantasy she'd ever denied had 
overtaken her.  She could fight it no longer -- it would 
consume her --

She came, her orgasm washing over her in waves of 
pleasure.  As she shuddered beneath him, Mulder realized 
what was happening; in his own surge of triumph and 
excitement, he finished too, crying out once, softly, as he 
drew her hips against him for the last time.

They stayed there like that, bodies united and quivering, for 
a few long seconds.  Scully felt his wetness running down 
her thighs, felt the firm grasp on her body, and revelled in it 
as lay there. 

Finally, he withdrew, caressing her legs gently as he did so.  
Quietly, almost tenderly, he unwound the leather belt from 
her arms; her fingers tingled with the rush of renewed 
blood as he slid it away, and brushed his hand across the 
thin red lines he'd left on her wrists.  He pulled her from the 
sofa and folded her into his arms, and only then lifted the 
blindfold from her face.

Dana's eyes were wet with tears.  Of relief?  Of shame?  
She didn't know and didn't care, not right now.  All that 
mattered was that Mulder had given her the one thing that 
had eluded her for her entire life, and she gloried in it.  

His face was soft as he lay on the floor, drawing her to his 
side.  "Are you okay?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He was exhausted by it all, utterly sated by her.  Although 
there were a million things he wanted to say, in this 
moment nothing seemed adequate.  Fox kept holding her, 
touching her, trying to calm his ragged breathing and his 
pounding heart.

As he did so, he somehow managed to doze off.  Not for 
long, not deeply -- but enough that when he awoke, she was 
gone.  The only evidence that she'd been here was the tape 
in the VCR and his own clothing on the floor.

Mulder rubbed his eyes and swore softly.  "Why the hell 
did she run off?"

He suspected he knew the answer, and felt a quiver of fear 
run through him.  Glancing at his watch, he realized he 
hadn't even been home for thirty minutes.   The night was 
still young.

***

For the rest of the weekend, he tried to get in touch with 
her by phone.  Only three or four times -- he didn't want to 
scare her, at least not more than he already had.  

No answer.

"Just great," Mulder sighed after his last attempt.  He'd 
wanted Scully since almost the moment he'd met her, and 
thought through, carefully, just about everything that could 
go wrong if they did become lovers.  Forewarned is 
forearmed, he'd told himself; if I'm prepared for anything, 
then we can handle everything.

But somehow he'd failed to figure in this scenario --

For her part, Scully spent the weekend in something of a 
daze.  Most of the time she was horrified -- how could she 
respect herself after letting a man tie her up and use her 
like that?  And how could Mulder ever respect her?  How 
could he see her as an intelligent, worthwhile partner after 
seeing her as his submissive plaything?

But anytime she actually got past the words -- anytime she 
let herself actually go back to that night, to the feel of his 
rough hands on her as she knelt blindfolded and bound on 
his floor -- the memory intoxicated her and aroused her 
almost as much as the actual sex had.

It just didn't make any sense.

She called and moved her appointment with Dr. Kossoff to 
the first thing Monday morning.

***

"I have to apologize, Dana."

"What for?"

"I told you that you couldn't shock me.  I lied.  Now, now -- 
don't take it that way.  I only meant that I didn't expect you 
to take such a big step so soon.  I would've sworn you 
weren't ready."

"I wasn't -- I never will be!"

"When you described what happened between you and 
Mulder, you suggested that you were enjoying yourself.  
Were you?"

"At that moment, perhaps --"

"That's the only moment that matters, at least right now.  I 
would have thought that such an encounter would only 
terrify you at this point.  But Mulder -- he's already 
someone you trust completely."

"With my life."

"I think that's why you were able to accept it.  But you're 
suffering from guilt now, and worries about how he'll see 
you.  How you'll see yourself."

"I don't see how I'm going to go into our office and face 
him."

"One thing I want to ask -- had you considered making love 
with Mulder before?"

Scully paused for a long moment before answering.

"Yes."

"I suspected that you may have.  So this is more than 
accepting your sexual feelings in the general sense, but 
accepting your desire for this one man.  You have to sort 
through your feelings for him as well."

"I'm so confused."

"I don't blame you."

"What should I do?"

"I can't tell you what direction to take from here -- you 
should definitely keep exploring  your sexuality, but 
whether you want to go a little more slowly or plunge in 
with Mulder -- that's your choice.  All I can definitely say is 
that you need to be open with him about what's going on 
with you -- if he's the man you say he is, he won't shut you 
out."

***

Scully arrived at the office at 10:02, tense as a whipcord 
and ready to face the worst.  Would Mulder dismiss her?  
Pretend nothing had happened? Would he shut the door 
behind her and demand that she --

Don't think like that, not now.

She opened the door to see -- a vase filled with snow white 
roses, almost stark in their brilliance in that tiny basement 
room.  Dana stepped forward and touched the silken petals 
with one fingertip, tracing its edge slowly and carefully 
before lifting her face to the man in the corner.

Mulder smiled a little.  "What's the slogan?  Say it with 
flowers, right?  They don't sell greeting cards for this 
occasion, that's for sure."

"They're lovely," she managed to whisper.  

"According to the card that came with my wallet, right here 
in back of the gifts for each anniversary, each flower has a 
meaning.  And white roses mean silence."  Dana raised an 
eyebrow as she met his gaze for the first time.  "I still think 
we should talk about what happened, Scully.  But when 
you're ready, and not before.  And I will never, ever, speak 
of this to another living soul."

"I knew you wouldn't.  But thank you for saying it."  She 
lifted the blossoms to her face, breathing the scent in 
deeply.  Fox watched the white petals crush against her fair 
skin, and knew that all the best intentions in the world 
wouldn't keep him from taking her again.  

But he could wait a while yet.  Just a little while.

***

CONCLUDED IN PART TWO



***********************
WHITE ROSES
by
ImXFScully@aol.com
***********************

PART TWO


In the language of flowers, white roses stand for silence.  In 
their new language, his and hers, they also stood for their 
shared secret.  And as a sign of what was to come.

It took a long time for it to happen again.  She resisted out 
of confusion about her own desires, not to mention her own 
feelings.  He resisted because of his need to protect her -- 
strange, how that need to keep her safe could coexist with 
the desire to do such violent things to her --

But, inevitably, passion won out.

The first time she saw the white rose on her doorstep, she 
thought her heart would stop.  Although they had never 
again spoken of their encounter, or of the flowers he had 
given her afterwards, she had always remembered their 
perfection -- the promise they stood for.  The one thing that 
made her able to face the memories -- even relish them --

So she never had to ask what that one rose might mean.  
And he had known that she would understand, that she 
would wait there for him, obediently, impatiently, growing 
more and more desperate to feel him take her yet again.

"You belong to me."

"Yes -- "

Her heart pounded as if she'd been running.  And she 
wanted to run, to run away from him, from what he was 
about to do -- but she had never wanted to be anywhere else 
as much as she wanted to be here, now --

"Lift your hands."

Her head was shaking.  Not saying no -- she never said no.  
Just shaking as the rest of her was shaking, trembling with 
anticipation and fear. Leather cuffs clicked into place 
around her wrists.  "They're strong, aren't they?  You 
couldn't ever break free from them --"

"No -- "  She would never try.  She would strain against 
them, feel their edges cut into her wrists, feel the weight of 
her body against them -- but she would never, ever want to 
be free of those bonds.  Or of the man who had bound her.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.  He always did ask -- that moment of concern 
before the violence began.

Leather again, a strap, hard against her skin.  He didn't 
spare her his strength -- each stroke slammed into her with 
full force, twisting her body that way and this.  Her skin 
didn't break -- but it sizzled, sparkled, went hot with a pain 
that built up slowly, so slowly, pushing past her defenses in 
a way pleasure never had.  He brought her to the brink of 
panic, of torture -- but never beyond it.  At the moment she 
could bear no more -- and he always knew that moment, 
more surely than she did herself -- he would stop.  The 
heated anguish would suddenly be brought up short, 
leaving her in a silent, wild suspense.  

"You know that you belong to me."

"I do -- "

He kissed her, drunk with power and lust, his mouth sloppy 
against her trembling lips.   His hands caressed her hips, 
slipped downward, scooped one of her thighs up, bringing 
it up to his waist.  She cried out as more of her weight fell 
upon her wrists, still so tightly bound; the pain was greater, 
but not too great.  Not so great that she couldn't be 
overwhelmed by other sensations -- his lips on her throat, 
the heat of him thrusting inside her, pushing her against the 
wall again and again, thumping slow and hard.  

She never spoke except to answer him.  How, then, did he 
know what to do -- when to bite into the soft flesh between 
her neck and shoulder, sending electric waves through her 
whole body?  Or just how to quicken his thrusting to match 
the tempo of her pulse, going stronger and stronger within 
her? But somehow he did know, without her ever speaking.  
She never had to say a word, make a move, without his 
express command -- and yet her every fantasy, her every 
need, was met.  Surpassed.  And her pleasure at feeling him 
groan as he spent within her was swallowed up in her own 
unleashed ecstasy , blooming blood-red from her very depths.



"Dana, I have to admit -- I have some concerns about this."

Scully tried her best to look at least a little indignant.  "We 
both wanted me to be able to explore my sexuality.  To be 
able to -- let loose, truly enjoy myself with a man.  That's 
happening -- "

"That's not why you came to me, Dana."

"I was being ridiculous," she scoffed.  "I -- I hadn't faced up 
to my desires them.  I thought they were wrong, but now I 
know -- now I know what they give to me."

"Do you know what they take from you?"

Dr. Kossoff was being unusually direct.  Dana, no stranger 
to interrogations, tried a counterattack.  "You're being 
rather judgmental for a modern therapist."

"I try to let my patients find their own path.  But I also try 
to speak out if I think they're losing their way."

"I'm not lost."  

"In the last several visits, since you and Mulder became a 
regular  -- item -- you've only talked to me about the 
physical facts of what the two of you do together.  And 
you're right, Dana; it is good that you're finally able to be 
sexually free.  But before, you were deeply concerned 
about the emotional component of your sex life.  When you 
spoke of being afraid of your desires, one of your main 
fears was that your sexual needs would distance you from 
the man you would love."

"Now I know that they don't," Scully said, unaware of the 
confession she was making.    

"Do you know that, Dana?  I haven't heard you say one 
word about your relationship as friends, only as sexual 
partners.  That's not what I expected to hear."

"I think you're expecting too much," Scully snapped.  She'd 
come for help, not lectures --

But underneath it all, she knew it was unfair to Dr. Kossoff.  
And knew that the doctor's words were hitting close to the 
truth.

Mulder could have told her that, if she'd asked him.  But 
that was one of the rules -- the unspoken rules -- of their 
arrangement.  They never discussed it.  Never.  Outside the 
boundaries of each sexual encounter, they remained as they 
had always been -- coworkers, side by side, occasionally 
social but never crossing that line -- unless they meant to 
cross it utterly.

The other rules were equally simple, equally constrictive.  
Scully always submitted.  Fox occasionally wondered, in 
their earliest days, if she would ever take the incentive -- 
leave him a white rose, show up in the dead of night, and 
command him as utterly as he had commanded her.  He had 
luxuriated in the fantasy of being left powerless to her 
whims --

But it remained a fantasy.  He realized quickly that it was 
her own powerlessness she craved.   He accepted it.  If 
these were the only terms on which she offered herself -- he 
couldn't say no.

The most strict of these silent rules was that their 
encounters should never, ever, interfere with their work, in 
any way.  No roses were ever again brought to the office.  
On their trips around the country, they stayed side by side 
in countless hotel rooms, always working until they were 
ready to drop and then saying a chaste -- if sometimes 
wistful -- good night.  

For the first long while, it had been like a dream.  Fox's 
normal, everyday, carefree bachelor life was now graced by 
episodes of wild, kinky, no- strings sex with the woman 
he'd desired more than any other.  What more could any 
man ask?

Plenty, as it turned out.

In all the years he had fantasized about Scully, he'd always 
imagined that any sexual encounter between them would 
lead, inevitably, to a relationship.  Not that they didn't 
already have a relationship -- for all their denial, for all 
those locked motel doors and offhand jokes, they'd cared 
for each other deeply almost from the very beginning.  Fox 
had spent too much of his life alone not to recognize the 
ultimate comfort of finally being understood.  Valued.  

Loved.

He had always felt that Dana loved him -- maybe 
platonically, maybe not, but he had always felt that, 
returned it as much as he was able.   How could it be that 
he felt that less now than ever?

Dana did not want a lover.  She wanted a master.  Someone 
distant.  Forbidding.  Dangerous.  And while he could play 
at those things, inhabit those roles for a brief while, he 
could not truly be so cold, caring for her as he did.  As 
screwed up as his sexual life had been before now -- and it 
had been strange enough, long enough, that his 
arrangement with Scully did not strike him as being 
especially unusual -- he had never been asked to be so 
emotionally divorced from sex as she desired.  Mulder 
couldn't help but feel that if she loved him -- the way he'd 
always believed she did -- that this couldn't possibly be 
enough for her.  That sooner or later, this game would fade 
away, allow them to truly make love.  To let their sexual 
relationship be a part of their lives, not some dirty secret, 
locked away.

But sooner had already given way to later.  And he was 
trapped with her now -- locked in a cycle he no longer 
wanted but couldn't bear to give up.



One night, he decided to try something a little different.

He arrived at her house late one Friday night; as usual, she 
was waiting for him, dressed in only a thin silken robe.  As 
he walked through the front door -- Mulder no longer 
bothered to knock -- he saw Dana there, her face already 
flush with anticipation, and felt his resolve weaken.  But 
only for a second.  

"Go get dressed," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

She sat still for a moment on the sofa, her expression 
bewildered.  She didn't ask why he wanted this -- she never 
questioned him.  But at this relatively gentle request, she 
hesitated, waiting for an explanation.

"Come on, get dressed," Fox repeated, still with the quiet 
tone of command in his voice.  "Wear something fairly 
nice.  We're going out."

"Out?"  Scully had found her voice.

"Dinner.  Is this such a strange concept?  Considering what 
we work with every day, I wouldn't have expected you to 
be thrown by the prospect of a night out on the town."

He'd hoped that her face would light up -- that she, too, 
might welcome the change in their routine.  But she looked 
wary, more so than she ever had.  And as she went quietly 
to the bedroom, Mulder realized that she was still only 
following orders.  Expecting a more elaborate version of 
what they'd done before.

And, with his first attempt at bridging the gap obviously 
less than successful, he started thinking of a way to give her 
what she did want -- 

Dinner was painfully awkward that night -- they could be 
agent and agent, or master and servant, but apparently the 
other aspects of their relationship had atrophied somewhat 
over the past few months.   Scully felt like she was on a 
blind date, and a bad one at that.

Dr. Kossoff's words were ringing in her ears.  This was 
Mulder, dammit -- he'd been her friend and confidante for 
years.  She used to tell him so much about her life; he'd 
listened to her talk about arguments with her mother, 
movies she'd seen, even her wallpaper choices.  Why did 
she stop telling him these things?  Weren't they sharing 
more of each other now than ever?

But something more powerful than her worries or Dr. 
Kossoff's advice kept her silent and hesitant.  The fantasy 
she'd nurtured all these years did not include a man who 
was both her dominator and her friend.  She needed him to 
be separate from her -- needed to be unable to know what 
he would ask of her.  She needed that edge of fear to make 
the fantasy complete.

At what cost?

As the waiter brought their desserts, Mulder suddenly 
leaned in a little closer to her.  After their strained evening, 
it was somehow jarring.  But then he spoke --

"I'm taking you someplace after dinner.  Someplace 
special."

The tone of his voice told her that he meant something 
truly out of the ordinary.  "Where?"  Instinctively, she 
lowered her gaze, already submitting to him again.

"It's a club in town -- at least, I think it's still there.  I went 
once, years ago -- not to participate, just to watch.  And 
that's all we're going to do." Participate?  Club?  Her mind 
was afire with curiosity, but all she did was nod.

And Mulder, despite all his good intentions, found himself 
excited by the prospect.  His one night at the Club Roissy 
had fueled countless fantasies in the years since then -- and 
the idea of showing it to a woman, this woman, almost 
erased his earlier disappointment.

Almost.



"References?"

The sober-suited man in the doorway might have been a 
groomed English butler.   Mulder, however, remembered 
this man, and this heavy, carved wooden door, and knew he 
had remembered the address even after all this time. 

"I was brought here once by Leonardo.  I was told I could 
always return."

"We are always open to that gentleman's friends.  Do you 
have any particular needs this evening?"

"Just here to watch, thanks," Mulder said, trying not to 
think of the more elaborate ministrations available at the 
Club Roissy.  Behind him, Scully held on to his hand a 
little tighter -- something about the atmosphere in this 
hallway was unnerving her, and exciting her.

"Very well.  Go right up these stairs -- there's a viewing 
area open on your left."  Mulder quietly slipped the man a 
few dollars as he began leading Scully up the steps. 

Dana didn't really know what to expect -- she'd half 
expected Mulder to just take her to some dark watering 
hole in yet another attempt to break the ice between them.  
Other possibilities had entered her mind -- but not this. 

As he opened the door for her, she saw a balcony in which 
perhaps a dozen people -- nearly all male -- sat, nursing 
cocktails and watching dispassionately.  One lone woman, 
dressed in an elaborate outfit of black leather, stood behind 
one of the men, head bowed. From the cut of the suits and 
the calmness of the men's demeanor, they might have been 
in a private box at the opera.

This was a performance of a very different kind.

Beneath them, in a kind of auditorium, two young women 
and one young man were making love.    On a padded 
platform bathed in rosy light, the three of them moved, 
twisted, intertwined in an almost bewildering tangle of 
limbs.  Dana watched, astonished, even as Mulder had to 
pull her down into her seat.   She had never, in her wildest 
dreams, imagined that there were places where this 
happened in public!  But even as that first shock subsided, 
she realized what the cacophony of noise surrounding them 
was -- beneath them, other spectators were crying out 
commands to the three lovers.  Now, Dana realized, these 
people were not enjoying themselves -- they were being 
controlled, serving not the people they were having sex 
with but others standing on the sidelines, glorying in their 
desperate attempts to please lover and master all at once --

Scully watched this performance, trying to envision herself 
as one of those sweaty, writhing young women.  This was 
submission and humiliation on a level she'd never dreamt 
of -- something that went beyond her fantasy.  She felt 
herself shivering, and was utterly unable to decide whether 
that was from terror or excitement.

Mulder watched her watching this.  He'd almost forgotten 
her at first, so overcome was he with the memories.  

Leonardo had struck up a conversation at the adult 
newsstand -- and had been so immaculately dressed, so 
well-spoken, that Mulder found himself drawn in, despite 
the strangeness of being addressed there.  Usually, he 
grabbed his magazines quickly, trying as hard to ignore the 
other customers as they tried to ignore him.  But this man 
had somehow broken through that protective barrier - -

"It's a shame, sir, that you are still satisfied with paper and 
pictures.  There are realities out there, realities you should 
try -- "

Why had he ever listened?  The man could have been 
crazy.  But Mulder had simply understood that he wasn't.  
He could have been hitting on Mulder -- and, after all this 
time, Fox supposed that much of it was probably true.  But 
that had been secondary to the honest desire to show this 
secret world to another.

Mulder had come to Club Roissy, had even been to 
Leonardo's house and watched the far wilder happenings 
there.   One night, a woman no taller than Scully had taken 
him to Leonardo's bedroom and used him more violently 
than he'd ever brought himself to use Scully -- and he'd 
gloried in it.  He'd never returned after that, though -- not in 
spite of the pleasure he'd taken there, but because of it.  Fox 
had understood, instinctively, that this kind of sex play had 
depths he didn't want to discover.

And yet, here he was showing it to Dana --

A soft gasp from the back of the balcony made him 
half-turn around; beside him, Scully also turned her head 
from the spectacle beneath them to see something new.

The leather-bound woman wore gloves made of soft sueded 
straps, chained together.  The man with her -- her master -- 
was winding that chain around a hook in the wall, pushing 
her down upon her knees, her face to the wall.  Slowly, he 
unlaced the stiff-boned corset around her waist and let it 
fall to the floor.  Her naked back was exposed; although 
she knelt very small and still, Mulder could see her 
quivering with -- anticipation?  Fear?  Both --

Her master reached into his jacket, as calmly and 
matter-of-factly as if he were going to get his cell phone, 
and pulled out a small cat-o-nine-tails, each lash glistening 
black leather.  Dana put her hand to her mouth, in an 
emotionless daze, as he lifted the whip high above his head, 
then brought it down across the woman's back.  The only 
sound was the slash of leather on skin -- no noise from the 
quiet spectators, from the man now bringing the whip down 
faster and harder, or from the woman who knelt utterly 
still, even as the skin of her back disintegrated into a wild 
crisscross pattern of crimson on ivory. As suddenly as it 
had begun, the beating ended.  "The marks look good on 
you," the man whispered, in a voice strangely loud within 
their small room.  "You look the way you were always 
meant to look."

"Yes, master."

Stereotypical words, so bizarre that they should have been 
almost comic.  But Scully felt no desire to laugh -- only a 
powerful sense of recognition.  This woman's debasement, 
her desire -- she knew them, at least their beginnings.  Did 
she want to know them all?

Her master unlaced the bindings at her hips, letting fall the 
slave's only remaining garment; he then pulled out a simple 
black blindfold, and wound it around her half-hidden face.  
"They're all going to have you.  However they want you.  
I'll take you sometime -- you won't know which one I am.  
Whether I'm the one hurting you.  Or which one of your 
torturers I am."

"Yes, master."

He stepped away quietly, silently; another of the men 
standing nearby stepped forward as if on cue, kneeling 
down in order to take her more immediately.  Even as he 
pushed into the slave -- so hard she whimpered, as she 
hadn't during her beating -- her master looked away, as if 
what was happening to her was of less than no moment to 
him.

"Do you want her?"

It took Mulder a moment to realize the man was speaking 
to him.  It took him a moment longer to weigh the 
appreciative glance the man was giving Scully; obviously, 
he thought Mulder might be willing for a temporary trade. 
Scully realized all this immediately; the master's attention 
focused in on her as bright and hot as sunlight through a 
lens.  For the first time, she recognized the depth of 
humiliation open to her here.

Would Mulder do it?  Would he shame her by fucking this 
other woman right here in front of her -- or by watching as 
another man possessed her?  As all these men possessed 
her?  Some of them had already glanced away from the 
sexual act taking place in front of them to judge the new 
arrival.

Her heart pounded within her.  She couldn't guess what he 
would do -- and couldn't guess what she wanted him to do.

Mulder met the master's eyes for a long moment.  He saw a 
lot there -- but nothing that mirrored anything within 
himself.

"No, thank you.  We'll be going."  Mulder took Scully's 
hand in his own and pulled her toward the door. 

The master was unconcerned.  "Perhaps another time."



They drove home in silence.

Scully kept playing the wild scenes from Club Roissy over 
and over in her mind, imagining herself in the role of the 
captive.  Part of her was horrified -- that wasn't submission, 
it was slavery.  And the pain -- Mulder had hurt her, 
occasionally, but the bloody welts on that woman's back 
were like nothing Scully had ever seen outside of a 
criminal investigation.  

And yet part of her was not horrified.  Part of her 
understood that this was the ultimate embodiment of her 
fantasies, the moment in which she would totally surrender 
control of herself.  And she'd sought that too long to 
automatically turn away.

Mulder cleared his throat, breaking their shared quietude.  
"Umm -- Scully?"

She looked over at him, refusing to speak.  Like those 
women in the club.

"Scully -- I can't do this anymore."

"What?"  She whispered the word, overcome by a sickening 
wave of shock and horror.

"I just can't, Scully.  What we're moving toward here -- it's 
not something I ever wanted.  And I know it's not what I 
wanted with you."

Dana turned away from him and looked out into the night 
streaming by outside her window.  "Oh, God.  Oh, no."

Fox found himself surprisingly shaky as he tried to answer 
her.  "Please -- I don't want you to misunderstand --"

"You're sickened by this.  By me."

"No, I'm not.  Everything you've done, you've done because 
I asked you to, right?"  She didn't answer.  "What we've 
had, Scully -- this was been one of the most amazing 
experiences of my life.  But going further -- it can't be a 
game anymore.  You're looking into the darkness now.  
And every day of my life, it's all I can do to look away from 
that darkness.  You might -- decide to explore it," he 
continued, although his heart bled with the thought of her 
continuing on without him.  "Maybe you'll find what you're 
looking for.  But I know that I can't.  I'd lose myself in it, 
and I'm not willing to do that."

"I understand," she said, her voice distant and dazed.

He wasn't at all sure that she did understand.  Fox felt 
seasick with immediate regret -- had he just broken up with 
Dana? That wasn't a scenario he'd ever played out in his 
mind before, and he didn't much care for the reality.  But 
every word Mulder had said to her was true.  And he was 
still strong enough to spare them both the agony of his 
indecision.

So he took the left turn that would bring her home.



"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the line was groggy, as well it 
should be at 1:31 in the morning.  Scully hugged herself 
before answering.

"Dr. Kossoff -- I'm so sorry -- "

"Dana?"

"Yes -- I know it's late and I should have waited but -- you 
said if things were ever desperate that I could call you -- "

"Any time of day or night.  And I meant that, Dana.  It's 
okay."  Dr. Kossoff seemed to have pulled herself together 
now.  "What happened?"

"Mulder took me to this club -- someplace really wild, 
where people do - - everything -- "

"And that was too much for you?"

"I don't know," Scully confessed.  "But it was too much for 
him.  He's ended things between us."

"Oh, Dana.  I know what he means to you.  Did he explain 
his reasons?"

"Some of what I saw tonight repulsed me.  But some of it 
fascinated me.  I think he realized that I was enjoying it in 
some way, and he wasn't.  He didn't want to go any further 
with me."

"So, how Mulder feels about you is unchanged.  He just 
can't continue the sexual arrangement you have now."

Scully nodded, before remembering that she was talking on 
the phone. 

"I'm so torn, Dr. Kossoff.  I don't know what I want -- at 
least, I don't know what I want more.  Part of me wants to 
explore everything, try everything, even the worst of it -- I 
think I would like it.  I think I would like it a lot, and I 
never, ever expected that."

"What's holding you back?"  Dr. Kossoff asked.

"Mulder, of course.  I want to be with him.  I -- I love him.  
Not because of what has happened between us these last 
few weeks.  For everything he's been to me, over these 
years.  I fought the knowledge for a long time, but I can't 
deny it now.  I'm in love with him."

Somehow her therapist did not seem at all surprised.  "And 
if you're going to go on with Mulder, you can't explore 
those other pathways.  Those pleasures."

"Why is there any question?" Dana sighed, suddenly 
frustrated and angry.  "I love him -- that should come over 
everything else, right?  Why am I even asking these 
questions?"

"Because you're afraid, Dana."

"Not really.  Those things I saw tonight -- they didn't 
frighten me."

"I'm not talking about sex.  I'm talking about love.  When 
you're in these scenarios -- when you've surrendered 
yourself -- you get to shut yourself off emotionally.  You 
don't have to feel anything except your body's pleasure.  
What I think Mulder's offering you -- it's true vulnerability.  
You're not risking your body -- in love, you're risking your 
soul.  It's scarier than anything you saw tonight.  At least, I 
think it may be for you."

Scully weighed those words in her mind.  Hadn't it been 
easier for her to let Mulder bind and blindfold her than it 
had been to talk to him over dinner?  She leaned back 
against the sofa, surprised by her doctor's insight -- and her 
own.  "All these years -- I've thought I was afraid of sex.  
But it's love I've been afraid of."

"And your fantasy?"

"The ultimate separation of love from sex," Scully 
whispered.

Dr. Kossoff sighed, both from exhaustion and satisfaction.  
"I think you've made some real progress, Dana.  The only 
question now is -- what are you going to do about it?"

What indeed?



Mulder groaned as he tossed in his sofabed; what the hell 
had woken him up?  He hadn't gotten to sleep until almost 
two in the morning -- his devastating loss and regret from 
his night with Scully had tormented him almost beyond any 
rest.

"Mulder --"

No dream.  That was her voice.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, peering through the 
darkness.  Dana was standing in the doorway, dressed in 
faded leggings and her oldest sweatshirt.  Her hair was 
tugged back in a tight ponytail and her skin was pale. 

"Scully -- are you okay?"

"I hope I'm going to be," she said, her voice warm and 
strangely loud; after a second, he realized that she hadn't 
shouted at all.  She just wasn't whispering her answers to 
him anymore.  "About tonight -- "

Fox nodded.  Would she ask him to take it back?  Was it 
something she needed -- but something she was afraid to do 
without him?  Would it be better to face that terrifying 
darkness than to leave Scully in it alone?  

"I can't say I didn't enjoy the club, Mulder.  But you're right.  
Something about those -- extremes -- it's too much.  It takes 
me away from myself, and I don't want that.  And it's taking 
me away from you."

He found his voice again.  "I never wanted to end things 
between us, you know that; I just want so much more than 
that, Scully."

"I understand," she said, and this time he knew that she did.  
"This isn't easy for me."

Mulder held out his hand; Dana stepped forward and took 
it, knelt on the edge of his mattress.  He touched her face.  
"It's not easy for me either.  But I don't think it's ever easy.  
For anyone."

"I love you."  Quickly, as if afraid to give him time to 
answer, she leaned in and kissed him -- the first time she 
had ever done more than accept his own advances.  Fox 
pulled her into his arms, returning the kiss, still letting her 
lead the way.

But the first moment their lips parted, he whispered, "I love 
you, too."

It was headier than any purely sexual moment of her life.  
She pushed him gently backwards onto the bed, straddling 
his waist with her knees.  His fingertips traced warm 
patterns against her back, but he didn't hold her close -- he 
left her free.  To explore.

She spent the longest time just kissing him; they'd rarely 
kissed before, and she'd dreamed of it so often, all these 
years.  Sweet luxury now, to kiss  his soft mouth, to take in 
the taste of him so deeply, then to pull back for sweet, 
fluttery kisses that barely brushed his lips.  He shifted 
beneath her, shivering with his own slowly gathering 
passion, delighting in her gentle teasing.   After a long 
time, Dana sat up and pulled the sweatshirt over her head; 
he had of course seen her in every state of undress long 
before this.  But something about this moment -- when she 
revealed herself to him for her own pleasure, at her own 
moment -- Mulder felt her desire for him as he never had 
before, and moaned softly as he pushed himself up to 
slowly trace the soft curve of one breast with his tongue.  
She gasped as he finally took the tip into his mouth and 
began sucking gently -- so gently.  She hadn't known he 
could be so gentle.

Her hands, once always denied the pleasure of touching 
him, were now exploring every inch of his body she could 
touch -- the warm expanse of his back, the firm muscles of 
his chest and the wispy hair there, the changing outline of 
his face as his jaw moved softly, still drinking her in.   
Scully let her hands wander still lower, finally pushing 
aside his boxer shorts -- he gasped, cool breath against her 
warm wet skin, as she touched him, bringing her hand up 
and down so slowly as he somehow hardened yet further in 
her grasp.  She could feel how desperately he wanted her.  
And knew that he would wait as long as she wanted -- 
would let her do as much or as little as she needed.  

But Dana didn't want to wait --

She pushed her leggings down off her hips, slid back from 
him just long enough to remove this last barrier between 
them.   Mulder lowered himself back onto the bed, lying 
still and trembling as she slid atop him to kiss him once 
again.  Even as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she 
felt him lower herself just barely onto him -- then pull 
back.  Then again -- a little deeper, a little longer  -- and 
pulled back again.  The teasing warmth and wetness of her 
was almost too much for him; Fox longed to slide his hands 
down her back to her hips and pull her down onto him, 
thrusting in deeply as he had so many times before --

But this wasn't going to be like before.  He forced himself 
to wait, to enjoy the rich anticipation building within him 
as she kept sliding him in and out of her, more slowly than 
he would ever have dreamed endurable.  Finally, he 
whispered, "Please -- "

At that she finally took him inside herself, fully and deeply, 
and he cried out with the long-awaited heat and pressure of 
her.  She found herself smiling as she began moving over 
him, matching his own rhythm in gently cresting waves.  
For the first time in her life, she wasn't faking it -- wasn't 
worrying about a man's reaction, wasn't trying to create the 
right one for herself -- and wasn't submitting to another 
person's will.  They were together, now, heart and soul and 
body, moving as the warmth spread through her body, 
tightening her muscles, concentrating her energy just there, 
just where he was touching her even as she met his thrusts 
--

She came suddenly, almost unexpectedly, in one great flash 
of pleasure and exhilaration.  Dana hung her head 
backwards, crying out unashamedly with it, and again as 
Mulder thrust in her once more, more powerfully than 
before, and shuddered.  Fox clutched her shoulders as he 
pulled her back into his embrace.

They held each other silently for a long time before they 
collapsed back into his bed.  They were both breathing 
heavily, shaking -- they'd had sex so many times neither of 
them could begin to count.  But this was so different, so 
much more precious -- it was more truly a beginning.  

Scully knew that her fears hadn't all gone away.  What she 
could face here and now, in the passion of the moment with 
Mulder, might prove more difficult and terrifying in the 
light of day.  

But for the first time, she knew she would face those fears.  

And she knew she would not be alone.

 *****

THE END

*****

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