TITLE: "Easy Riders" AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * CLASSIFICATION: MSR KEYWORDS: S R RATING: Strong R for sexual situations and the odd bad word SPOILERS: Tiny reference to "This is not Happening" SUMMARY: A very special present for the birthday boy. DISCLAIMER: *sigh* No, they're still not mine ... TIMELINE: After season 8, but forget about what happened in season 9. ARCHIVING: Sure. I'll do Gossamer myself, all others: you're welcome when you tell me where it's going, 'kay? FEEDBACK: Cherished and worshipped at NOTE: The motor cycle in question is a Harley Davidson Custom "Screamin' Eagle Deuce". Being driven by Mulder in turtle neck leather jacket and snug jeans. Yummie ... DEDICATION: This one is for Debbie Cullen. Happy birthday! (hint: read her stories, they're terrific!) HOMEPAGE: http://www.cluich.net/x-files.htm XxXxX "Easy Riders" by Kirsten Kerkhof XxXxX 'My God, it's beautiful.' That's the first thought that enters my mind when I see the result of the string of phone calls I've been making over the past weeks. I was almost on the verge of giving up, coming to terms with the idea that, however wonderful it would have been, this clearly wasn't meant for us. But then, success. It's been worth every penny I spent on the calls. He's gonna love it. Absolutely love it. "Is this what you've been looking for, Ms Scully?" the man asks and I tear my gaze away from the motor cycle. "It's great, I can't believe it," I answer. "It's a custom model, I wasn't sure for a moment you were looking for something like this one. You told Matt you were looking for another model." "I was. But I'm glad I decided to go and see this one as well." I take out my wallet and show him the driver's licence that allows me to drive one of these monsters. "Think I can test drive it for a bit?" The man smiles. Boy, here's passion for a machine if I ever saw it. "Sure. Let me just get two helmets." XxXxX "Hey, you guys still alive?" I knock on the glass of my fish tank, but the result is neglectable. Well, there goes another crop of fish. Jesus, I should quit having fish, I'm on the road way too often for pets. It's a good thing dead fish don't smell as long as they're in the water or I'd have the humane society as permanent lodgers. I'm depressed. No big deal, of course, I've been feeling depressed for weeks now. And the fact that today's my birthday doesn't change a great deal about that. Especially not since my partner decided to forget all about it. I've been throwing hints at her for what must have been a week now, but not a thing. Not even the slightest indication she was even the least bit interested. I decided that she's probably just give me a key ring or something today, but even that turned out to be idle hope. It's official now. I'm depressed and God help the person who tries to blame me. XxXxX I'm nervous. I know he likes bikes, even though I haven't seen him drive one for as long as I know him, but some things are just too easy for a seasoned FBI agent like me to find out. A couple of phone calls was all it took to give me inspiration for what I hope will be a great birthday present. I rev the engine just once before I stop, a block away from his apartment. God, the sound this beast makes, it's downright erotic. I've decided to kill the engine well away from his apartment, because I want to surprise him and the sound this motor cycle makes is rather distinguished. Wouldn't want to blow the surprise already, now would we? Now to make him leave his apartment without me going up to his place and him suspecting something is going on. I had to promise Mike not to let the bike out of my sight for even a bit and I understand perfectly well why. It's not every motor cycle that's decorated with 23 carat gold ... Like I said, it's a gorgeous machine. I pull the bike into the parking lot of his apartment block and sit down on the bike, contemplating my next move. I know he was feeling pretty low today, also because he must have been convinced I'd forgotten all about his birthday. I certainly acted that way. When I saw him like that I almost gave it all away, my heart ached so much, seeing him so depressed, but I managed to control myself. Poor sweetheart ... I've finally come up with a plan to lure him out of his apartment, but it's hardly a fool proof plan. Oh well, it will have to do. I take my cell-phone from my purse which is safely tucked away in one of the bags that come with the bike and speed-dial his number. I tried to fit the phone into the leather suit I'm wearing but found out it was a bit of a nuisance. "Mulder." Oh good, he is home. "Hey, Mulder, it's me." "Oh, hi Scully, what is it?" "Erm, I was wondering if you'd like to go out and have dinner someplace? I didn't feel like cooking and thought you might feel the same?" "Just ... just like that?" I can hear the anticipation in his voice, hoping this will be a birthday dinner and I nearly cave, but I must be strong now. "Yeah, just like that. I'm in my car now, on my way to you. Meet me outside in the parking lot?" "Why don't you come up as usual?" Ouch, the point where I knew this could go wrong. "Erm, I already made reservations and I'm a bit late. And, well, we usually stay around a bit longer and ..." It's silent on the other end for a bit, but then he answers. "Sure, meet you outside ... when?" "Just grab your jacket and go downstairs. I'm nearly at your place." "Will do." We disconnect. Funny how we never say good bye ... XxXxX Mmm, I don't know what Scully is planning, but this is certainly not 'just dinner'. Scully can't lie for shit. She's up to something, but I don't know what. Suddenly I'm feeling a whole lot better. I grab the leather jacket from the coat hanger and slip it on. I changed into jeans and a turtle neck sweater after work and the jacket matches well. She didn't say anything about fancy dress so I guess it'll just be Cellucci's or something. It's as good a place to celebrate my birthday as any, I guess. I step outside into the chilly clear autumn air, expecting to see her car swerve round the corner any minute now. Instead I'm being met with an altogether different sight. Whoo boy ... "Scully?" I manage to croak. Is that my partner, creeping up out of the dark, dressed in black leather - I'm not sure I can breathe properly ... - with two - two? - motor cycle helmets in her hand? "Glad you managed to tear yourself away from the television set, partner," she smiles, her voice all low and sultry. I swallow heavily. "Scully?" I can only repeat. God, I think the speech centre in my brain just died. She's reached me and, after placing the helmets on the ground next to her, reaches up and kisses me softly. "Happy birthday, Mulder." "My birthday present is a leather-clad Dana Scully? I'm happy," I say, not believing my luck. "Oh good, then I guess you won't need the second part of your present," she answers smugly and I grin. "Second part?" She picks up the helmets. "We're going for a ride, partner. You ready?" "I thought we were going out for dinner?" I ask. She smiles. "Maybe later." XxXxX I'm sure his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he sees the motor cycle. "Jesus, Scully, where did you get this beauty?" I cheer inwardly, but play cool on the outside. "I know a guy who knows a guy." He walks around the machine, admiring it from all sides. "My God, a custom Harley Davidson," he breathes. Then he looks up, his expression a bit alarmed. "You didn't buy this, did you?" I shake my head. "The pay rise wasn't that substantial," I grin. "I borrowed it for a day or two." He smiles. "I saw it on the Internet." "I know." He looks up. "You know?" I nod, but don't elaborate. "Come, put your helmet on. The night is clear and I want to ride." He grins. "I can't wait." I walk up to the bike and hold out the keys to him. Oh man, the way his face lights up when he realises he's going to drive it, he can forget about a birthday present for me. "I get to drive?" I nod. "It's your birthday, handsome." XxXxX Okay, there are motor cycles and then there are bikes. Bikes with a capital B. This little beauty here is definitely one from the latter category. My God, what a sensational machine. Hell, it's probably just me, but I can *swear* people are looking at us, appraisingly, as we cruise through the still-busy streets of DC. I'm not going to say this aloud, but I feel like a man. Like a real man. I can't help the smile on my face as the thought crosses my mind. Yeah, I know, I can feel all manly even without a custom Harley under me, but it sure doesn't feel wrong. Hell no. The helmets have little microphones and receivers built in so Scully and I can talk. "So, how do you feel?" I hear her voice through the ear piece. She's definitely smiling. I grin although she can't see it. "There are no words for it." "Feel like a real manly man?" I nearly have a heart attack. God, has she just gone psychic or what? It takes a bit before I can answer. "More than you can imagine," I reply, my voice hoarse. She squeezes her arms tighter round my waist. "Good." I wonder what she means by that ... "By the way, Scully, where are we going?" I ask as we leave the city behind us and drive into the country-side. "Just keep riding, partner. Trust me." I smile, placing my left hand on hers as it holds on to my waist. "Always." XxXxX Feminists would probably want to skin me alive for it, but I feel terrific as I sit here behind my partner, letting him control this mighty beast. I have to force myself not to want to press my face into the well-worn leather of his jacket because of the helmet I'm wearing, but I swear I can smell him. I feel amazingly feminine with my arms round his strong body, feeling him control this bike. So this is what it's like to have a strong man protect you. It's an awfully old-fashioned idea but I can thoroughly understand its charm. We approach a small town so I tear myself away from my thoughts and fantasies and start paying attention to the surroundings. I have to think now. "Turn right at the next exit," I say and he nods. About two hundred yards later he takes the exit and we drive along a beautiful lane, bordered by ancient yew trees. I knew this was going to be special, but even this is stunning to me. "Scully, where are we going?" "Shhh, just drive," I answer, but I'm sure the thrill and the excitement seeps into my voice. I feel like a little girl on Christmas morning, eager to go downstairs and see what Santa brought her. Mind you, I won't need Santa for this present. "This isn't just any road, Scully, a perfect line of yew trees like these doesn't just happen in the wild," he says, but I can tell from the tone in his voice he can't wait to see what does make such trees happen. The answer is just around the corner. We swerve around the last bend in the lane and then, I'm not ashamed to admit it, I can feel my breath stop in my throat. Christ Almighty ... XxXxX Okay, let me get this right: I'm driving a 23-carat custom Harley Davidson, with my partner sitting behind me, dressed in unbelievably tight black leather, and before us is a mansion you would normally only see in up-scale magazines. Oh God, don't let her have made a mistake because this is just perfect! I pull up in front of the pillared entrance and the door opens and a butler emerges. "Mr Mulder, Ms Scully, welcome to Eaglescliffe Hall. Please be so kind as to follow me." I kill the engine and park the bike as I get off, followed rapidly by Scully. We take off our helmets and I can just see from the corner of my eyes how she shakes her head from side to side to loosen her hair. I have trouble breathing. Again. "Scully," I hiss, "what is this?" She smiles her Mona Lisa smile. "The third part of your birthday present, handsome. Come on." And with these words she trips up the stairs and enters the house. I love the way the leather pants show her curves. I want to run my hands all over her. And if she doesn't stop swaying her hips like this, I can't promise I'll hold myself in check for very long. We cross the threshold and enter the entrance hall. Now I have been in some pretty amazing houses during my life-time, being a part of an upper-class family and all that crap, but this is beyond anything even I have ever experienced. And as for Scully, who has never known any more sophisticated housing than navy-issue, she's openly gaping at the princely decoration and size of the hall. The butler turns towards us before addressing us again, his face a perfect blank. If he is in any way amused by our all-too- visible amazement, he doesn't show it. "Your dinner is served in the dining room," he states in a grave voice, indicating the grand door on our left. Then he turns and leaves through a smaller door on the right. I run my hand through my hair, momentarily confused. Scully's smiling widely. "Shall we?" I say and she nods. We put our helmets down on the floor next to the door leading into the dining room and, with my hand on its customary place on the small of her back, I usher her into the room. XxXxX The dining room is a feast to the senses - and I'm not even talking about the food. I can easily imagine how there would once have been a huge table, dressed in silver, crystal and flowers, but it has been replaced by a much smaller one, set exquisitely for two. The small scale of the table makes the room seem even larger. All around us paintings of former occupants are looking down at us and I swear they are smiling in approval. Mulder seems to have overcome his trepidations first - probably because he's more used to such abundant luxuries than I am - and he walks to the table. "Your chair, madam," he says, smiling. When I don't move, he returns to my side. "What?" I'm utterly speechless, I can't help it. I clear my throat, but it takes a bit before I can finally answer. "I wasn't expecting this at all." He searches my face for a moment to find out whether I'm disappointed or just positively overwhelmed, but when he knows, he smiles widely. "No, me neither. Mind you, I thought you'd forgotten all about my birthday." The teasing lilt in his voice brings me back to earth - and to why I love this man so much. "Forget your birthday? Come on, have I ever forgotten your birthday?" I tease. He lets out a cough, but I'll be damned if there isn't a 'last year' in it. Last year. He was gone last year. I couldn't have celebrated his birthday even if I'd wanted to. "You weren't here last year," I whisper, tears springing in my eyes. His face falls, remembering. "I'm sorry, Scully, I shouldn't have said that." I move to stand before him. I run my thumb softly along his lips, incapable of looking away from his face. God, I was so lonely last year ... "Last year you were gone. Just gone. I didn't know where you were, I didn't even know if you were still alive," I whisper, my voice strained from the tears that clog up my throat. "I kept telling myself you had to still be alive, but I also knew I couldn't kid myself. I spent your whole birthday crying ..." He pulls me to him so I'm touching him from top to bottom and I can bury my face in his neck, my fingers weaving through the strands of his hair. They feel a bit damp from the helmet but I'd be damned if I cared. "Oh Dana," he whispers in my ear. I can hear the emotions in his voice and it only serves to make me cry even more. "Oh, sweetheart, I couldn't have died. Not without having seen you once more ..." It's easy for him to talk, he wasn't the one who had to bury him and spend three months in mourning, knowing he'd never see him again. "Your body was still warm when I found you," I say and he shudders. "If I'd just been a few minutes earlier, I could have saved you." God, I'll never forget that moment when I found him lying naked and horribly injured in the long grass, his body cooling, his skin losing colour and turning that deathly grey I've seen on so many corpses. I nearly threw up when I saw it on the man I loved so fucking much it hurt every time I thought about it. If there hadn't been so many people present I don't know what I would have done ... He pulls away and catches my gaze. The look I see in his eyes absolutely blows me away. "I'm sorry for all the pain I have ever caused you, Scully, but I want you to stop taking any of the blame. I was the one being stupid and I paid more than the price. And if it hadn't been for you and your love and dedication, I'd still be in that grave ..." I feel another shudder rip through him. He woke up after three months - if we hadn't found him, he would have been buried alive. I can't think of a more sickening, more terrifying thought. "Don't you see? It was all my fault, and I suffered, but I have only myself to blame." I weave my fingers through his hair and pull him to me. I want to kiss him and never stop. Never ever in my life. "God, Scully, I owe you my life so please stop feeling sorry for me," he says softly, just before brushing his lips over mine. I don't know what kind of kisses I really want most, but it doesn't matter. Any kind will do. I feel one hand moving down along my body and pressing me closer to him. It's terrific, absolutely fantastic, feeling his hard, warm, strong body pressed up against mine. I keep his face in my hands and just keep on kissing him, a mix of short sweet kisses and longer, more passionate kisses. I can't stop, I can't let go. "The food is getting cold," he murmurs, making no moves to change anything about our current position however. I chuckle. "Fuck the food." He kisses me deeply before answering. "I'd rather fuck you if it's all the same to you." I can't help shivering at his words. I can count the times we've made love on a single hand, but he's never referred to it like this. It's pretty damn arousing if you're at all interested in my opinion. I giggle, unable to stop it. "Yeah, me too." His eyes go wide before a sly smile appears on his face. "You made any arrangements in that direction as well?" "The house is ours to do in whatever we like," I answer. "What about the butler?" "He did it," I answer, making him laugh that wonderful deep belly-laugh I don't hear often enough. It breaks the dramatic tension between us and I feel I can finally let go of him. With one last kiss I break our embrace and move towards the table. "They didn't serve Spaghetti-Os or take-out Chinese, but I figured you'd want to eat this as well," I tease and he grins, lifting the covers from the dishes. XxXxX Whoo boy, oysters. And cherry-chocolate mousse so rich it ought to be kept at Fort Knox. I glance at Scully who is actually blushing. I lift one eyebrow at the all-too-apparent implications of this food. "Do we actually need anymore aphrodisiacs?" I smile. "Do you care?" she counters and my smile widens. Like hell I care. I grab the bottle of champagne from the bucket of ice and look at the label before attempting to open it. This is good champagne. Very good champagne. I'm not a connaiseur, but we're not talking supermarket stuff here. I remove the wire and slowly wrestle the cork out of the bottle. It comes up with a soft pop and just a whisp of carbon dioxide. "I love a man who can open champagne bottles properly," she says, her voice treacherously low and sultry. "At your service, madam," I smile, pouring the pale golden liquid into one of the designated glasses. I offer it to her, then pour one for myself and, after putting the cork back in the bottle, put it back in its bucket. "So, what do we toast to?" I ask, raising my glass. She imitates me, smiling lovingly. "To your birthday," she replies. Of course. "To more birthdays together," I add. Her eyes are moist and her voice soft when she speaks again. "To a long life together." I feel a lump in my throat and I can't answer right away. "Together," I finally manage to choke out, tears blurring my vision. I felt like a real manly man when we were on our way up here, but I'm feeling suspiciously close to crying like a baby now. Thank God she doesn't mind. We don't talk for a while, but I can read every thought, every intention in her eyes as clearly as words. Then, simultaneously, we rise. She grabs the bottle of champagne, while I take the plate of oysters and the chocolate mousse. Dinner may be nice, but we have somewhere else to be. XxXxX "Can I tempt you with an oyster?" I hear him say above me. His voice rumbles in his chest, I can feel it on my cheek as I'm lying here with my face resting on his chest. Great feeling. I roll off him, feeling incredibly lethargic. I tend to feel that way after really good sex. I can't help it. "Yeah ..." He sits up and takes the half-empty plate of oysters, then makes a show of choosing the perfect specimen. I can help grinning when I hear his pleased 'ah' as he finds what he's looking for. I rise up a little, but he gently pushes me back down. "Just stay where you are, Dana," he whispers and I open my mouth to accept the bite. My eyes lock with his when he slips the oyster from its shell into my mouth. God, this is so erotic ... "Would you mind trying not to look so incredibly sexy, Scully?" he says in a hoarse voice. "I'm having a really hard time here trying to remain a gentleman ..." "What's telling you I want you to remain a gentleman in the first place?" I answer in a low voice, licking some of the liquid from the oyster off my lips. "Scully ..." he whines, "I'm trying to make this good for you!" I take the empty oyster shell from his fingers and make it join about half a dozen of its friends on the floor. Then I gently pull him down onto me. He lies down on his side, cradling my head in his hands. "I have never felt this good," I whisper, smiling up at him, stroking his hair and face. "So please don't worry about it." He only smiles. "Weren't you cold in those clothes?" he asks after a bit. I grin, knowing exactly what he's hinting at. "Because I wasn't wearing any underwear, you mean?" His grin matches mine but he doesn't answer. I shake my head. "Surely you weren't expecting long johns, right?" Now he laughs. "No. But I wasn't expecting nothing at all either. Somehow you never seemed the type to go round dressed in leather and nothing else. Were you expecting we'd end up in bed together?" "No, not entirely. Although I was hoping we would. But ..." "But what?" "Well, if we hadn't ended up like this, you would never have known anyway, so I figured there was no harm in it." I feel his hand straying down my body, touching me everywhere I want him to. "What?" I say, my voice breathy by now. "Did you feel sexy, knowing you weren't wearing any underwear but I didn't have a clue? Did it turn you on?" I nod. "Yeah ..." I moan softly when his hand cups me, then slips two fingers inside and begins to move at a slow but steady pace. His other hand is still supporting his head and he keeps looking at my face. His eyes are dark and whirling with the emotions the rest of his face doesn't show. I try very hard to keep my eyes open to look at him, but every now and then I just can't. I whimper when he touches a particularly good spot. "I was wondering whether you were wearing any when we were on the bike," he says in a rough voice. "I couldn't see any traces of it, even though the pants were so snug. But I couldn't make myself believe it ..." "Believe it, gorgeous." He takes a deep breath. "Have you ... have you done it before when you were around me?" I nod. "Yes." "More than once?" I nod again. "Yes." He groans. "Oh God ..." Okay, enough dawdling. I pull his hand away from me and make him lie on top of me. Time for some proper action. XxXxXxXxX I dunk the new fish Scully bought for me in the tank after flushing the previous crop down the toilet. I've grown less and less sensitive about it. I wonder how long these will last ... Today was our first day back in the office since we returned from Eaglescliffe Hall. I grin. A Pavlovian reaction, I guess, since I grin every time I think about our little party there. What a way to celebrate one's birthday. I hear Scully's distinctive knocking and hurry to open the door. She smiles when she sees the empty plastic bag in my hand. "Surely you remembered to clean the tank out, right?" I smile. "Absolutely. Mollie had started to distintegrate and become one with her surroundings once more." She scrunches up her nose adorably. "Ah yuck ..." "That's a weird thing coming from the mouth of a woman who slices up corpses for fun and profit," I grin and she laughs. "I brought the tape," she says, taking out a video tape from the bag in her hand. "Hitchcock." "Is it a creepy one?" "You bet. I also brought another movie if we don't get scared enough by Hitchcock." My eyebrows move decidedly north. "Which movie?" Her grin is wicked now. "'Easy Rider'," she answers and I scream in mock-fear. "Let's go for Hitchcock first," I say as we flop down onto my trusted leather couch. I rise briefly to insert the tape into my VCR, then move back and pull her close. "So, you took the motor cycle back?" I ask after a while, not taking my eyes off the TV screen. She nods. "Yeah. I was sorry to see it go, though." I chuckle. "Mm-mm. There is just one problem, Scully." "A problem?" "Yeah," I say, pressing a kiss in her shiny hair. "I only have a few months to come up with an even better birthday present for you." She doesn't answer right away. Then, "The anticipation is killing me." I smile, meeting her eyes and she smiles back at me. Then I rest my head on top of hers and look back the the TV, still smiling. THE END Kirsten Kerkhof The Netherlands, 26 January 2003 (c) 1