From: AHaynes33 Date: 15 Dec 1998 02:39:06 GMT Subject: "Eternity Waits" - 1/1 - Anne Haynes DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Maurice and Lyda are the products of the brilliantly demented mind of Chris Carter. They also belong to Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. I mean no infringement. CATEGORY: V, R RATING: Mild R KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully romance SPOILERS: "The Ghosts Who Stole Christmas" SUMMARY: Have yourself a merry little Christmas Sorry Lorna---this story works better if they're not lovers yet. ;) "Eternity Waits" by Anne Haynes AHaynes33@aol.com Her feet are small, especially propped on my coffee table next to my own size elevens. We've shed our shoes and are down to a pair of black knit socks and sheer nylons. Her toenails are painted, I notice. Pale pink frost. Her feet cross and she sinks a little deeper into the sofa cushions beside me. I guess this means she's settled in for the night. It's two a.m. on Christmas morning. Our gifts have been unwrapped and duly approved---she really seemed to like mine. Kind of makes up for that whole crawling in her own blood incident earlier in the evening, I guess. I loved her gift to me, but then, she could have wrapped a tape dispenser and handed it to me with that sexy little smile in her voice and I'd have reached a similar state of bliss. It's snowing outside. Gonna be a white Christmas, and Scully's sitting here, tucked against my side like a prom date, and I'm so damned happy I could die. Okay, bad choice of words. "I've been thinking about something, Mulder." Her voice is low and drunk with lack of sleep. It's sexy. It makes every nerve in my body stand at attention and give a snappy salute. I turn my head so that my nose is almost buried in her soft red hair. "What's that?" "If I hadn't tried to leave tonight--you wouldn't have gone into the house, would you?" I close my eyes for a second. Busted. "We would have just sat there in the car a few hours, watching the house. You'd have told me a few more creepy stories, and then you'd finally call it a night." She lifts her head and gazes at me with sleepy blue eyes. Her face is close to mine, so close our noses nearly touch. "What then, Mulder?" I want to show her what then. Her breath is hot and sweet against my lips and I'm wishing I weren't so damned scared all of a sudden, not after everything we've been though and everything she's meant to me for the past six years. I wish that I'd never walked into that house tonight, that I'd never heard the names Maurice and Lyda, because there were words still ringing in my ears, louder than Scully's soft breath, louder than the beating of my heart. *How'd you get her to come with you--steal her car keys?* Might as well have. Trick her, trap her, tease her, mess with her head, manipulate her sense of loyalty, play on her sense of duty. Use her loneliness. Her kindness. Whatever the hell it takes, huh, Mulder? Whatever it takes to keep her from walking the hell away. *You're afraid. Afraid of the loneliness.* I close my eyes again. Her breath is warm against my chin. "You'd have suggested we come back here, right?" Her voice is low and gravelly and races up and down my spine like a shiver. "So you could give me your gift." Something warm and firm moves up my thigh. Scully's hand, I think, but I don't really believe it and I don't have the emotional honesty to open my eyes and face my delusion. But whatever it is, it moves higher, creeping close to where I want Scully's hand, and so I'm happy to pretend that I just felt her palm cup my growing erection, her fingers slide gently over the hardness, her-- God! Her tongue darting across my lower lip. My lips part in a shaky breath, and she's kissing me, slow and deep and drunk with wanting---or is that me? I don't know, I don't care, I just know that for all my secret little plans to ring in Christmas with Scully, I never knew it would feel like this, like the top of my head was about to come off and my heart was about to burst, or that Scully would be sliding onto my lap, her legs straddling mine, her soft heat thrusting gently against my hips as her hands threaded through my hair. *You didn't come here to be together for eternity?* I did. I went to that house, and memorized my seductive little ghost story and called Scully on a bullshit stakeout on a cold Christmas Eve so that I could spend an eternity with her fingers in my hair and her tongue in my mouth and her perfect little ass sliding over my lap as she made love to me through our clothes. And even though I know I'm going to open my eyes and realize I've fallen asleep watching A CHRISTMAS CAROL and had the Scully dream of my life, I have to know for sure. I open my eyes. Her eyes are closed, her lashes brushing my cheeks. Her mouth devours mine, hungry and generous at the same time. I cradle her face, breaking the kiss. Stare into passion-dark eyes suddenly full of fear. She breaks my heart and puts it back together again, all with one little quirk of her eyebrows, a question she needs answered that I never realized needed asking. "This is what I hoped for," I say. I see another question in her eyes. Why didn't you just ask, you big stupid jerk? I can't quite hide a smile. Because that's not the way we do things, she and I. We like it hard. Complex. Uncertain. Sometimes I think that we're afraid to be too sure, afraid that the only possible follow-up to affirmation is destruction. Better to be forever on the brink of heaven than to overshoot and land in hell. And hell is eternity without each other. She touches my face, her fingers warm and gentle. I lean into the touch, sliding my jaw into the perfect curve of her palm. "My mother thinks I'm going to be there at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning." I move my hand over the curve of her hip. "But you're not?" "I can be late." She traps my earlobe between her small teeth and nibbles. A shudder runs down my spine. "How late?" Her breath burns my ear. "That's up to you, Mulder." I wrap my arms around her waist and turn, pulling her under me as I stretch out on the sofa. Her thighs part to cradle my hips, and the slide of my hardness against her softness almost makes me come right there in my pants. I manage to hold back. Scully is not so lucky. She makes a soft hissing noise and her fingers dig into my shoulders as she goes rigid. I fight for control as I watch her skin flush pink and her neck arch as she rides out a wave of pleasure. She's so damned beautiful I'm afraid I'm going to break down and blubber like a baby. I bury my face in her hair and murmur her name, gently and soothingly. After a moment, she moves weakly beneath me, and I pull back to look at her. She's still flushed, but I'm not so sure it's pleasure this time. "Been a while," she mutters. I smile, wondering if she knows I find her enchanting. "Like riding a bicycle, I hear." "So that's what they're calling it these days." She smiles, and I'm utterly lost. I brush her hair away from her dewy brow. "Now that you've had your way with me...." "Your turn?" I'm deadly serious as I gaze into her eyes. "That WAS my turn." She melts. Like a chocolate bar on a heater, she melts over and under me, her arms and legs sliding around me like liquid heat. Snow and garments fall in silent concert, skin meets skin in a slow, sweet glide. I am in her and over her and around her, and she fills me long before I fill her. Murmurs, sighs, whispers. Yes. Right there. More. Her breasts are round and firm and sweet beneath my tongue. Her legs curl around my hips, hold me and guide me, keeping me on the right path, the right pace. I bend to her will with a depth of trust I don't know I could have given her before tonight. When she lets go, arching beneath me, offering up her precious control like a sacrifice, I am undone. I have never known such heat, such light. We die a little death to find heaven, and the streets aren't paved with gold but with a thousand Scully smiles. And eternity doesn't seem like forever anymore. It seems too short, somehow. Her skin is soft beneath my fingertips, soft and warm. I remember the last time my fingers moved across her naked body. Chilled and wet and just this side of death, in the cold, dark belly of a spaceship buried in the Antarctic ice. Nothing like the fire that burns in my arms tonight. She's the one who reaches behind me and pulls the blanket over our bodies, protecting us from the cool drafts sneaking into the apartment from the snowy night outside. She's the one who holds me close and brands her name on my heart. I may have put the cracks in the wall between us, but she's the one who knocked it down. Teamwork. We've made it an art. I shift so that we're spooned together, facing the blank face of the television set, where not so long ago, I watched the story of a man who got a happy ending he didn't think he'd earned. I know the feeling. I don't deserve to be so happy, but I just can't help it. = end Happy Holidays to you and yours. AH Anne Haynes My XF Fanfic is stored at http://members.aol.com/ahaynes33/index.htm