February 23rd, 1999

(Tuesday Night, 8:04pm)

Candles lit, with bubbles up to my neck, I finally closed my eyes and sank into serenity. Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto hummed away in the background from my speaker in the living room. A scent of warm vanilla and freesia wafted into my nostrils and intoxicated me (or was that my 3rd glass of wine?).

Ah, to be at peace…a certain weightlessness overwhelmed me as the heat made my body tingle. I toyed with the faucet using the tip of my big toe, and enjoyed the sensation.

In this bath, I was not an FBI agent, and it was not my thirty-fifth birthday, and I was not spending it alone…

I was also not barren or sexually frustrated.

In this bath, at this moment, I was tall and tan and young and lovely, damn it. The girl from fucking Ipanema…not the woman from D.C. who dreaded the middle of the winter season.

The burst of reality made me sigh out loud. Even Mulder had noticed my apparent annoyance today, though he'd wished me a happy birthday, and I had tried to hide my feelings as best I could.

He'd even gone so far as to have special birthday coffee, my favorite Kona blend, and with hazelnut creamer. Not the shitty, complimentary government brew that awaited the other agents at 8:00am. Hell, with that kind of gift, you could say he made a woman feel loved.

Maybe I should curb my disdain…it was a rather sweet gesture that expressed affection and care. Truthfully, I'd had no reason to even be upset, I'd had far worse birthdays. I'd left the office as soon as I could at 5:00pm, made myself a birthday cake that I would definitely regret eating later, and watched TV.

So…special.

When 7:00pm hit and I felt unsatisfied, I popped open the wine and started the fun by myself. No one should drink alone…especially on their birthday, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Ha…I snicker at the term "girl".

God, I'm pathetic tonight.

Regardless, as I'd felt the alcohol flood my veins and my head, I'd decided on a bath for myself. If nothing else, I'd gotten myself drunk enough to fantasize about Mulder without the guilt. Yes, I fantasized about him often, but it was rare that I could do so long enough to get off without my cheeks burning red from embarrassment.

And God, did I want to get off… I'd watched him closely all day. The way his mouth twitched as he pried a sunflower seed from it's shell, the way he loosened his tie when he got too warm, and how he always managed to show off his muscle tone even in a button-up. Not to mention those eyes…that smolder…I know for a fact he'd caught me today, and when I looked away I swear I heard him chuckle. Not that I can blame him; a grown woman lusting after her partner after all these years with no release was almost a comedy.

My life was a joke.

Regardless, if I'd stooped this low, I was not about to stop. Ah…as his physician and partner I'd come to know his body well. The cute curve of his behind, the little tufts of hair along his chest, and tone of his biceps…

How would it feel for him to throw me on the kitchen counter after a long day at the office? To have his way with me, those biceps with enough strength to keep me in a tight grasp with his hands? As he suckled on a nipple and prepared to fill me with his seed…

God…

In an instant, with my fingers hard at work, my thought process is shattered. Was that the door?

I sank lower into the tub and listened intently, heavy footsteps making their way toward my bathroom, nerves overwhelming me as I consider my weapon in the next room. I could throw a candle at the intruder, that would be my best bet…

Then, before my intoxicated mind could process this plan fully, the bathroom door opened, and Mulder peaked his head in.

"Good evening birthday girl…you got started without me?" he purred optimistically, totally ignoring my nudity, and motions to the wine glass on the sink.

"Mulder!?" I squealed, sinking further into the tub, and putting my arms across my chest. It was about all I needed to sober up.

"Shh, shh, it's not like I haven't seen you naked before, Scully," he cooed, very much serious.

"But…what?! You could have warned me!" I continued to scold, but he snickered in response.

"No, don't mind me, go back to whatever you were doing, I'm gonna make dinner," he said with a wink, and shut the door.

I lay in the tub at a complete loss. For a moment I consider finishing myself off, but as I begin again, Mulder's voice accosts me from outside.

"I can't help but hope you were thinking of me…" he murmurs, almost shy.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!" I nearly scream, but I could have sworn I heard him mewl from pleasure.

Obviously not able to finish, and doing my damnedest to speak without slurring, I realized that I was too far gone to pretend I was sound of mind. As I placed my bathrobe on and dried my hair, I gulped the glass on the sink and walked out to greet my companion.

He stood with his back to me at the stove, doing his best to sauté something, though maybe not effectively. My chest and throat still burned a bit from the alcohol, and my head had started to spin at least 10 minutes prior to that realization. It definitely didn't help that the warm, buzzy feeling began to spread it's from my stomach on down, but I did my best to ignore it for the moment.

As I opened the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle of wine, he turned from the stove and raised an eyebrow.

"You're in rare form tonight…" he chides.

"It's my birthday Mulder, I'm allowed to do whatever I please," I stated, but soon considered my tone. Normally, it would have come across as defensive and logical, but the substance interference made it sound flirty and suggestive.

Not quite able to ignore the same thoughts, Mulder raised an eyebrow, before he opened the oven to change the subject.

"I brought salmon…usually I'd sear a steak, but I know your aversion to red meat is strong," he explained, and I smiled softly to myself.

"That's very kind of you…I haven't eaten yet," I mentioned.

"Oh, that much is evident," he chuckled, and went back to the stove.

"Evident?" I questioned.

"You're slurring, my dear," he simply replied.

On queue I felt my cheeks start to burn, but it was difficult to tell if it was from alcohol, or embarrassment, or arousal. Maybe all of the above? I was vaguely aware that if I drank anymore, or if he joined in, that we both might get more than we bargained for tonight, and it put a knot in my stomach.

Not that I wouldn't…love that.

Ugh, get a grip on yourself, Dana.

"Mulder, you never told me you knew how to cook," I tried to change the subject.

"Don't let this fool you, I only know how to cook three meals, and this is one of them," he warned.

"Only three?" I prompt.

"When I wanted to impress girls in grad school, I learned three meals that looked fancy but were relatively simple to make," he replied with a shrug.

"Did it work?" I question, actually quite curious.

"I don't know, is it?" he fired back, and gazed into my eyes.

I swallow hard, sure to be red in the face again.

"Ask me again once I've tasted it," I tried to joke, but it's difficult to flirt intelligently when you're wrecked.

Luckily for me, Mulder happened to be an excellent cook for the only meals he knew how to prepare. And, luckily for me I sobered up quickly enough to save face and prevent any potential disasters from forming. Some hours in, after dinner and clean up, I felt it relevant to explain.

"I appreciate you coming over tonight…I wasn't exactly looking forward to spending my birthday alone," I finally admitted.

"I sort of got that impression in the office," he snickered.

"You did?"

"Well, you aren't the best at making your emotions known. After all these years, I know if you're crabby you've always got a good reason to be," he deduced.

"Maybe you give me too much credit. I'm sorry, for what it's worth," I apologized, suddenly feeling a bit guilty.

"It's perfectly fine, plus you've got good wine and were willing to share," he shrugged, always humble.

"You've been drinking a bit as well, you aren't planning on driving at this point, are you?" I asked, very much sobered up. Not that he was drunk, but he definitely felt good. He'd gotten a bit bold as we washed the dishes, and had gotten bit more touchy than usual.

"I'm not a light-weight like you, Scully," he disagreed.

"Perhaps not, but you still shouldn't drive," I scolded slightly.

"Are you willing to share your bed?" he trailed off.

"Of course not; you can have my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch," I explained.

"No, no, none of that, it's your birthday, and I'm a gentleman."

"You purchased and cooked a meal, I'm more than willing to offer my bed in return."

"No…it's your day, let me treat you right…" he purred.

Then, he learned in, and though he was not intoxicated enough to blame his actions on the alcohol, he was certainly more bold than usual. Not able to fully process what was happening, and not wanting it to happen like this even if it did, I backed away awkwardly.

"Well, let's watch a movie, then, until you're more capable of motor function," I reply calm, but my head was certainly buzzing, and this time it definitely wasn't the wine.

"Okay…" he nodded to himself, then grinned and walked to turn off the lights as I turned on the television.

When I plopped down on the sofa, he sat down much too close to me. Though close proximity had the ability to turn me on as an adolescent, those days were long gone. However, the smell of his musk and aftershave so close to me, as well the the appearance of the stubble on his jaw in the light, suddenly made me paranoid.

I shifted uncomfortably from the tension between my legs, but he only used it as an excuse to shift closer to me in return. Mulder's attention to detail was, unfortunately, impeccable when he wanted to use it, and I was beginning to think that this was one of those times. I caught him gaze down at my from under his hooded eyes, and his lips parted slightly in a smile, before he looked away as though nothing had happened.

It felt as though he were a charismatic predator, and I was his nubile prey, so easily falling into the trap.

"Any idea what you might want to watch?" I all but choke, but my voice was huskier than I intended, and I swear I caught him respond to it, even if it was fleeting.

"Nothing is catching my eye at the moment," he sighed, and watched carefully as I went down the satellite guide.

This continued for a while, before he twitched.

"Scully, "The Exorcist"! It's your favorite…" he stated, and leaned in slightly to make his case.

"It is…I guess it's decided," I finally respond, not quite sure how far he intended to take this game.

About 20 minutes into the film, amid his occasional intellectual comment on the paranormal and possessions, he subtly slipped his hand onto my kneecap as though it was nothing. It set my being ablaze, this simple touch, and I gritted my teeth to maintain composure.

Caught up in his own subject, he briefly looked down at me and frowned.

"Are you all right?" he beckoned, voice low enough for the sensors in my ear to process it as arousing in my head. Not meaning to, I swallowed hard.

"I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?" I question, knowing this is very dangerous territory.

"You just seem…flustered, that's all," he comments casually, with a shrug.

It was happening beyond my control. The fire burned between my thighs and begged for his touch, for his mouth, for everything Mulder might be able to provide. A ridiculous throbbing sensation continued to increase, damn my physiology, and I tightened my legs to stifle it, but it only made it worse.

Then, knowing very well what to do, considering how blatantly obvious I was making it despite not wanting to do so, he moved his hand to my thigh. Not quite near the danger zone, where any touch at this point threatened my own demise, but teasingly away from it. Enough to make me consider where he might move his fingers…

My stomach dropped when he began to rub circles along it, and slowly worked his way toward the most sensitive part of my inner thigh. I had tried desperately to remove myself from the situation, recalling the thigh muscles, in order, from anatomy lab all those years ago as he made his way toward my median.

Chant them, Dana, chant them and save yourself:

Vastus lateralis, vastus intermedius, vastus medialis, sartorius, gracilis…Oh, god…

At this point, I'm nearly panting. How had I allowed myself to be so starved as to respond so obviously? God, to have him inside me, to have him fill me, to feel the heat of his body on mine as he thrusted his release into me. I was getting dizzy.

"What were you doing when I came over?" he leaned down, and I felt his breath tickle the inside of my ear. I refused to make eye contact, I only stared at my feet propped on the ottoman.

"I'm sorry?" I question, totally breathless.

"This scene made me think about it again," he murmurs, and nods toward the screen in my peripheral view.

My eyes move from the tip of my pinky toe where my gaze was so fixated, to the television screen. Regan is masturbating with the crucifix, and my stomach drops.

"Mulder, what are you insinuating?" I questioned, not quite with the strength to make eye contact and turn to him yet.

If I do, it's over, I'll force my tongue into his mouth and I'll have him right here on the couch and I can't…I just can't…

"I like the way you purr my name when you're horny, Scully…" he murmurs, so close to my ear that the moisture from his mouth makes my ear wet. I can feel his lips against my ear lobe, and finally, I turn to him.

"What are you doing?" I demand, eyes dark. We're so close, almost nose to nose, and I can nearly feel his lips on my lips. Then, breaking eye contact, he leans in closer.

"I want to know if you were pleasuring yourself to the thought of me…" he begged. I never broke his gaze, but I saw his hand move toward his cock, and my heart nearly burst out of my chest.

"Mulder…" I try to warn, but it escapes my lips much more sexually than I had intended.

"Tell me, Scully. Tell me if you were pleasuring yourself to me…"

"I…yes…yes…" I stumble, almost incoherent at this point. I'm raging, and need release, and if he doesn't help me so God I'll come on this couch by myself.

"Show me," he simply says. I stared at him for a moment, and then realized not only was it incredibly intimate, as it would show him what I liked best, but that it was one of the most erotic demands I had ever encountered.

I blinked hard for a moment, before I lay down on the couch against him, touching my neck and my breasts. Normally, this would have gone on far longer, but I was already so beyond that point, and I quickly placed my fingers inside myself. My body trembled to my own rhythm, and I felt so exposed…but it made me feel so close to him, so vulnerable.

We had already come this far, why not let him have me in every way?

His eyebrows arched as he watched, and he emitted a low moan, as he adjusted his erection on the couch. After a moment I stopped all together.

I glanced down to see how painful it looked, pressed so tightly against the denim of his pants, and wanted more than anything to set him free. With the palm of his hand, he grazed his hand over my collarbone, and then gripped the edge of my neck.

"I've waited so long…I can't wait anymore, Scully," he nearly begs, and I am undone.

Very gently, with the sort of passion I have only seen in old movies, he kissed me, but his tongue…ah, his tongue…was so far down my throat I realized how much he wanted this to happen. How much he needed it to happen…just like me.

My hands were in his hair, mouth to mouth, and suddenly I became aware that I had pawed against his bulge aggressively, because he raised his hips for me to remove his jeans. I did so quickly, and positioned myself on top of the tented plaid pattern, still kissing him, and let his erection gently tease the similar reaction against my clit.

My robe was still on (not glamorous, I clearly hadn't thought this through at all) but thankfully, I'd never put panties on before I'd left the bathroom to meet him. He was suddenly aware of this as well, as my fluid dampened the cloth of his boxers, and he sucked in a breath quickly.

"Ahh, Scully," he moaned, so weak for a moment, and then his jaw clenched. He ripped my bath robe off in an instant, before rubbing my breasts. Before I could even move to initiate, he took a nipple into his mouth, and suckled like a true champion.

It felt good, so good, but I was soon frustrated with the need to have him inside me. He must have noticed, because he shifted his weight, suddenly on top of me, and ripped his boxers off.

"Do you…want to go into my bedroom?" I asked, totally breathless to be sure he had enough room to move.

"Not gonna make it there," he grunted.

His positioned himself on top of me, rough hands tight against my hips, and then caressed the creamy skin of my abdomen. Then, he stops, and panic must have become apparent on my face.

"No…you're just…so fucking beautiful…God, you're a dream," he remarked, and took a moment to take me in. I'd never felt more desired than in that moment, more loved, and even though we'd never said it, we didn't have to do it to make it known.

"You're a handsome devil yourself, sir," I murmured, still not quite aware of how to take a compliment in stride.

"I think I've seduced you, Ms. Scully," he taunted, and I rolled my eyes.

"Mulder, don't make me beg for you," I warned, and suddenly he's on me with a ferocity I hadn't encountered before.

His lips are rough against mine, and he forced my arms above my head, pinned down by his big hands. For a moment I'm overwhelmed, and I feel him slip away, but before I can open my eyes to see where he's gone, I feel his mouth against my clit.

"Oh, Mulder…" I groan, in shock. As he lapped me up, he fingers worked against the bones of my hips and along my abdomen, and created absolute sensory overload.

Well aware that I was past needing stimulation, the speed of his tongue inside me was quick, with tiny little circles. Occasionally, he would flick it in just the right way…and oh god…

Simply put, I squirmed like a newborn calf at his skill. My head became light, and my pants increased, before he eventually stopped and put a gentle hand against my stomach.

"Is it okay? Do you want more?" he asked, overly analytical and exactly to my liking.

"I want you inside me," I demand, and he chuckled.

"Scully, if you want me to stop, or if you think you might regret this, I'm gonna need you to do it now. Otherwise I'm not opposed to taking you against your will…" he begged, like a need.

"Mulder, I want you to fuck me hard," I beg, and I think the demand sent him over the edge.

I'm already so close I could cry.

He raised up to meet my mouth again, and I can taste my own musk on his lips, before he's inside me. When he enters, the force of the blow totally overwhelms me. It's so similar to the feeling one gets on a roller coaster when it heads straight down the hill…the same chaotic desire to chase pleasure until the end.

"Ah!" I moan, as he had wasted no time.

At that, he pulled back, and the look on his face was clearly worry, but once he realized that my vocalization was one of pleasure, the stern look of arousal colored his features again.

"Oh God, Scully, you're so warm…so tight for me," he managed to choke out.

"I've waited so long," I panted, having forgotten I could even make noises like this.

The rhythm he had inside me was phenomenal, every thrust made me close to an end, and yet I sensed after a minute a building frustration inside him. He continued on for a bit, before he paused, and then placed my legs on his shoulders.

"Is the pressure too much? if you're uncomfortable-"

"-Mulder, keep going, please," I begged.

From the new angle, I could very literally feel every inch of him. Though it was nice to feel as though he was buried within me, and missionary is completely underrated when done correctly with a combination of love, the new position forced most of his weight on my clit.

AKA: thebestfuckingthingI'veeverhadyesplease.

Ah, the sweet spot, please, please keep doing that, just like that!

Of course, I was well beyond the point of intelligent or dirty vocalization. The ridiculous noises I was sure to be making might make me cringe later, but it definitely seemed to match his own. As he pounded into me, I arched my back, and felt the thread inside me tighten over, and over, and over as I threatened my release.

My head spiraled completely out of control, and I felt some slick, jelly-like wetness encompass my entire being. It was close…I was so close…

"Scully, I'm gonna come," he grunted, not quite knowing what he was allowed to do just yet.

"Ahh, good, okay," I tried to urge him on.

"It's…okay to come inside you?" he completely stopped for an answer.

"Yes, I want you to…" I said severely, almost worried that our climax could be ruined.

"Ohh, God…that's so…sexy…uhh," he choked, and nearly lost himself.

The next 60 seconds were the best of my entire life. I felt him quicken his pace to match the rampant throbbing of my walls around him, until he found the perfect speed.

"Fuck, Scully, I'm gonna fill you up…" he warned me.

"Ohhh, there you are baby…you gonna come for me?" I taunted, somehow able to form an intelligible sentence.

On my command, he nearly yelped, and the sheer mix of pleasure, vulnerability, and it-hurts-so-good-pain spread across his face, mouth rounded to an "O". Based on that reaction alone, I felt myself completely lose it, and my orgasm was achieved.

He completely collapsed on top of me, totally spent, and I lay there more alert than ever. The sweat of his body and brow cooled me off, and I rubbed little circles on his back.

"…Happy birthday…" he sighed, and I laughed.

"Why thank you, that's the best sex I've ever had, so I couldn't have asked for more," I admitted somewhat sheepishly.

"I was gonna say the same, but I didn't think you'd believe me," he grinned, and his face reddened, before he kissed me gently.

"Why wouldn't I have believed you?" I demanded, brow raised.

"Always a skeptic," he simply shrugged.

"It's a part of my charm, Mulder."

"It's the whole reason I ever fell in love with you…" he agreed, though he had given me more than I had bargained for by a long shot.

I suppose thirty-five isn't so bad after all.