From: Char Chaffin <char@chaffin.com>
TITLE:    Mistletoe Kissing on New Year's Eve
Author:   Char Chaffin
Category: MSR smut-cookie, Scully POV
Rating:   NC-17
Disclaimer:  Uh-Uh, I cloned them. Chris can't have them.  And let
him get his own mistletoe...

Spoilers:  Nope.  This is a universe of my own making, so there is
no eighth season at all, much less a Mulder abduction or even much of
Season seven.  In this smut-cookie there is only De Love...

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  It's New Year's... they deserve some fun!

Thanks to:  Tess for some last minute beta that made all the
difference in the world - you Rock, Girl!

SUMMARY:  In their new-found intimacy Mulder is teaching Scully how
to play... and she's such an apt pupil...


MISTLETOE KISSING ON NEW YEAR'S EVE


"... So what do you think?  Would you like that?"

I propped the phone against one shoulder and managed to free up four
fingers to squeeze out the excess chamomile from my teabag, and
focused on his words just enough to realize that I...

"...Don't know where we're going yet... how can I know what to wear
if I don't know where we're going?" Made sense to me, if not to a
man... I mean, you can't leave the house in just anything; the
clothes should match the place, especially on a night like this.  Of
course I would jump at the opportunity to be with Mulder on New
Year's Eve - I just needed a few more details.

 His retort in my ear was actually no surprise, considering what I'd
been learning about him lately.

"Wear?  As in clothes?  Who says we're gonna need clothes?"  I could
almost see his eyebrows waggling as his voice breathed that bit of
sin across the phone lines, and the little rough catch in his voice
made me shiver even though I was sitting in front of a roaring
fireplace.  And without prodding him for any additional information,
I suddenly knew what sort of New Year's evening I was in for...

Whoo Boy.


When I threw my hat in the ring alongside my partner's just a few
short weeks ago, I should have known what sort of twist my life was
going to take.  After several false starts and a lot of unresolved
tension between us; of coming so close, only for one or the other of
us to drop the ball... we crossed that invisible line.  We'd
surrounded ourselves with it for almost seven years, 'circling the
wagons', more or less... and once we dissolved it there was no going
back to any semblance of a sedate, uncomplicated life, at least for
me...

You see, my partner, Fox Mulder is - for want of a better term -
catnip for women.

And he doesn't even know it.  The man is the most unaware creature
on the face of this earth - unaware of his power over not only women,
but men as well.  Oh yes - I am not blind.  I have seen the way both
sexes look at him.  Men who would never in a million years figure
they could be attracted to their own gender - I have seen utter shock
on the faces of a few of them when they realize... the exact moment
they do.

It happened just a few days ago, as a matter of fact, and the poor
guy about ran into another shopper at the supermarket; his cart
almost overturning as well.  Mulder, intent on choosing just the
right cucumber, never saw a thing - but I did.  And I smothered a
smile of sympathy, for I'd been in the same sort of mad flux for
years.  In my case however - I'd never fully understood what was
going on.  I only knew that close proximity to my partner caused
havoc within me, and in my well-organized life, inner havoc was the
last thing I figured I'd be needing.


The day it hit me, really hit me - well, that's a day I will never
forget.  Sitting innocently at the desk, flipping through sites on my
laptop, minding my own damn business, I might add... waiting for
Mulder to get back from the corner deli with my morning bagel. A
normal beginning for a normal middle of the week, and because we'd
just finished with one case and hadn't started on another yet, that
meant it was even more of a normal day.  I wasn't anywhere near to
being in the throes of PMS, 'Biological-Clock-Ticking', or any other
weirdly female event... just a normal day.

Then I heard the elevator ding and through the open door I saw
Mulder walking down the hallway with a bag in one hand and a
cardboard coffee tray in the other... and there was something about
his loose, comfortable strut; the way he put one foot in front of the
other while balancing a full tray of hot liquid - the way his head
tilted a bit to one side as he looked up from the tray and caught my
stare and grinned that sweet lopsided grin at me.  If a sledgehammer
had socked me between the eyes it would not have surprised me more.

My heart stopped beating just long enough to make me gasp aloud for
life-giving blood to begin pumping anew through my starved arteries.
In one shortly blinding second I summed up many things in my life
that before this moment had not made any sense to me but now slapped
me hard across the face - all centering around the sheer power of one
Fox Mulder, and what I had not noticed before, not like this:

Thick soft hair, the most perfect shade of dark chocolate...hazel
eyes to die for, framed by eyelashes that would be the envy of most
women... lips just begging to be bitten, then soothed with kisses.
And inside that luscious mouth... a tongue that had to be strong
enough from years of working sunflower seeds, to do pushups in all
the most interesting places.

Add all this wonder to a body that wouldn't quit, those supple
muscles covered by silky hot skin and a tan that I would bet money
went on forever...not to mention the sexiest neck in the world.  And
hands... Oh, my... hands. I couldn't think of anything else to add to
make them more desirable - just hands.  Long fingered, slender-strong-
tender hands.   On my body those hands would be lethally compelling -

God... Mulder's hands.  On me; on my body -

I think I whimpered in my seat, as I watched Mulder walk toward me.

As I said, lethal especially when combined with the inner man I
knew... a personality that screamed confident, alluring man, whether
or not he knew this about himself; top that with a quirky sense of
humor... and kindness abounding - and there he was.  Fox Mulder.  My
catnip...

Later I would ask myself why on earth my lust-O-meter would choose
that particular moment to start a tap-dancing dervish deep inside,
when throughout our seven years I'd been on the receiving end of
nothing more strenuous than a gentle waltz or two. Even at the height
of what I would deem 'sexual awareness' of each other, I'd never had
it pound me like this.  And all I could do was struggle to keep up
with the rapidly spinning rhythm beating quadruple-time in my poor
underworked heart.

By the time he'd reached the office door and walked through, I was
in such a puddle that if I'd had to stand for any reason I would have
actually dripped.  His eyebrows drew together in an inquiring line as
I sat there staring mutely up at him.  He laid the bag and the tray
on my desk and walked over to me, already putting out a hand to my
forehead as he spoke.

"Scully... you okay?  Not running a fever, are you?"  His hand
touched my forehead... paused there a moment before sliding down the
side of my hot cheek, and cupping it gently...

And I lost it, fully lost it.  I jumped to my feet so quickly that I
knocked over a stack of files on the corner of the desk; my face
flamed in what had to be one serious shade of red.  Mulder's eyes
widened as they looked into mine, and I could not break that contact,
I just couldn't - and I knew that all the newly-discovered secrets of
my heart had to be laid bare, in my eyes.  I backed away from him;
backed up until I felt myself hit the wall - and I saw a sudden,
dawning smile encompass his handsome face; saw him move toward me
slowly, so slowly.  When his deep, low voice rumbled out one soft,
longing-filled, "Scully..." I knew I was doomed.

Utterly, completely doomed... catnip, God help me.

I crammed my body into the wall, trying ineffectually to squeeze
myself smaller - figuring that if he couldn't pry me out of the sheet
rock then I'd be safe.  Safe from what, I already knew - deep inside
where the crazed dancing of my adrenaline had reached its peak.  Safe
from those compelling eyes of his and those slender, sexy hands; that
equally-sexy body and the pure scent of him, coming off in waves and
engulfing me.  Safe from the most tempting mouth in the world; safe
from that afore-mentioned tongue.  Safe from having to admit what I
was experiencing had to be more than basic lust, because I had
survived dry spells before... and though I knew just how long this
particular dry spell had been, still I pushed back into the wall.
Actually, I could have been intimately involved with another man, all
this time... and still it would have been a dry spell for me; dry
because it wasn't Mulder.

All the shrinking I tried to accomplish didn't help... he kept on
coming.  Right up to me, within a small hair of me - bending down
into my face, eyes swallowing me whole; Mulder hadn't laid a finger
on me beyond one hand cupping my cheek, and my entire body felt as if
he'd licked it all over.  I could only imagine what he was seeing in
my unblinking eyes; I watched fascinated as his hazel orbs went from
river-clear to smoky-dark, the pupils dilating and the lids dropping
as if too heavy to support the weight of those eyelashes.  Both of
his hands reached out and palmed themselves on either side of my
head, trapping me against the wall.  Unnecessary, because by then I
was so frozen in place that I couldn't have moved if the building was
burning to the ground.

He leaned down and into me; the heat of him soaking into my suit and
eating through to my very skin.  My heart beat so fast that it was
making me dizzy; I had to almost cross my eyes to keep him in focus -
and still he leaned in.  Until his nose was touching mine; until the
upper part of his body was pressed against me and his elbows touched
the wall along with his hands... until that lush mouth was a breath
away from tasting mine...  And his rasp of a voice broke over me in
one long shudder.

"Tonight, Scully - eight o'clock.  Don't even think about not being
home when I come over.  I'll bring dinner - and we'll eat - and we'll
talk.  About this.  Okay?"  Those hooded eyes bore down into mine and
I didn't want to agree; didn't want to nod yes.  Nodding yes meant
that I wanted it; wanted the catnip.  Wanted to roll in it as any
feline would beg to roll; wanted to become dependent upon the
emotions garnered from another human being.  Wanted to give it up,
that last free piece of myself; the piece I had selfishly hoarded for
so long that I had almost forgotten there was any other way to live.
I didn't want to nod.

I would die if I didn't nod.

The rest of the day had gone by in a haze; after Mulder had exacted
that nod from me and a weak-as-a-kitten, "Okay..." - he'd pushed
slowly away from the wall, his bottom lip barely grazing mine - and
had walked to the desk and opened the bag and handed me a bagel, the
sweetly hot smile on his face the only indication that anything out
of the ordinary had occurred between us.  He had me so confused and
so achy by then that I swear I didn't know which end was up.  And I
understood why he'd stopped, obviously I did - after all, we were at
work.  Anyone could walk in.  And I was amazed at my utter lack of
concern; that I could be rendered that disoriented by nothing more
than a sudden sexual awareness of my partner.  Deep inside I knew it
was much more than that, of course - but I was still in denial, you
see.  Until the moment he knocked on my door at precisely eight
o'clock that evening, I was in denial.

The details of that evening are still a little foggy, when I look
back on it.  I remember walking to the door and opening it wide;
recall the way Mulder's eyes raked over me as he stood there with
bags of fragrant Italian take-out in his hands.  I backed up and he
moved forward; I think he made it far enough into the apartment for
the door to close and the food bags to hit the floor, before his
hands reached out and yanked me up tight against him - and I stopped
breathing and functioning as Dana Scully, and began a whole new
existence as nothing more complicated than, 'Woman'.

Make that 'Woman With Catnip'...


So here it is, New Year's Eve - and I am not dressing.  Strange.  I
don't even mind that I wasted three hundred dollars on a new dress to
wear.  I assumed we'd go out someplace to dinner, then maybe drinks
and dancing.  Someplace with noise-makers and silly hats and lots of
spiked eggnog and even some mistletoe hanging over a doorway.  Maybe
the band would suck canal water, but we'd be too drunk on booze and
each other, to care.  Maybe we'd dance; maybe not - maybe we'd just
sit in a dim corner booth somewhere and kiss - and touch - and drive
each other so insane that we wouldn't even wait until midnight to get
the hell out of there and find our way to the nearest apartment.
Maybe we'd not even bother to get up on New Year's Day to watch the
stupid parade; we'd be too sore.

I look at the dress I bought and won't wear, displayed on the edge
of the bed.  It's silky and clinging and daring and dangerous;
completely the opposite of me - and I love it.  But I don't feel any
resentment at all that I won't get to be seen in public wearing it;
someday I'll need a dress like that and when I do, it'll be waiting
for me.  It's more important to be dressed properly for the evening
to come; the evening Mulder has planned for us.  This occasion calls
for some serious dressing down - and that's exactly what I did.  I
dressed down.

Boy, did I ever.

I finish the last touching up of my hair as the doorbell rings; one
last look in the mirror as I fumble with the belt of my robe - and I
head to the door.  My stomach is fluttering madly.  I am assuming a
hell of a lot, based on a few husky-voiced teasing words uttered into
my ear while I was drinking a mug of tea.  Mulder can be
unpredictable and almost too playful, given full reign over a
situation and allowed to do his worst.  I could open the door and
find him in full formal gear, with a corsage of roses and dinner
reservations at the swankiest place in the city.  Or I could find
upon opening the door a Mulder dressed from head to foot in black
leather with a rented Harley revving up outside... in the last few
weeks he's surprised me more than once.  But this time - if I read
him right - maybe he'll be the one surprised.

I face the door and count to five, then reach for the knob and pull
it open... to find Mulder standing there in his best trenchcoat; the
charcoal gray silk.  Wearing a dazzling smile and holding out a
gorgeous bouquet of deep red roses; I look him up and down, finding
the sight in front of me incredibly pleasing.  Belted and buttoned
into the coat, a pair of what appears to be black khaki slacks
breaking over the tops of his shoes; I smile at him and Mulder smiles
back.  He hands me the roses and steals a delicious kiss from me as I
move out of the doorway and let him in.  And as I shut the door
behind him and take a huge sniff of the heavenly blooms I murmur to
him, "Take your coat off and stay awhile, Mulder..."  With a low
chuckle nearby my ear as I turn to face him, Mulder begins to
maneuver me around so that my back is to the bedroom door, and
advances on me as I retreat, unbuttoning and unbelting his coat as
he replies.

"Don't mind if I do, Scully."  And something in his voice makes me
concentrate more on his face than on the flowers I still admire, and
I feel my jaw drop as I watch him unbutton his last button - and open
the coat - and let it slip from his shoulders... and it's all I can
do not to fall backwards over the bed, laughing.

Underneath his elegant trench, Mulder is starkly, gloriously
naked... except for the cut-off legs of a pair of black khakis tied
on each of his legs, covering him from the knees down to the tops of
his shoes.

My eyes meet his as I clap a hand over my mouth to hold in the
giggles, and as I let go of my loosely wrapped bathrobe, it falls
open... and Mulder gasps, then his shout of laughter about rattles
the glass in the windows... and that's when I remember what I'd worn
for him underneath the robe; what I had agonized over him seeing when
I was unsure about his state of dress.  I don't think I have to worry
anymore...

The thin silver chain I fastened around my waist, from which dangles
a sprig of mistletoe strategically falling over my curls, assures me
that I am at least as snappily-undressed as Mulder.

Both of us slide to the floor side by side up against the bed,
laughing our fool heads off.  Just when I get a grip on it I look
over at him; at the silly cut-off legs of what I recognize to be one
of his nicer pair of khakis.  And I lose it all over again.  I can't
believe he ruined a good pair of pants just to amuse me... so sweet
of him.  In between giggles I let him know how much I appreciate his
thoughtfulness.

"Mulder, you are one sick little duck, you know that?  You killed
your pants just to make me laugh... I appreciate the effort, I really
do."  I crawl over to where he's sitting in a limp heap, wiping at
his eyes; he seems to be torn between watching the mistletoe swinging
back and forth on its chain, and my breasts swaying in matched time.
Whatever you like, Mulder - just don't move until I can reach you...

I put out a hand still damp with my own tears of laughter and Mulder
grabs at it, pulls me close and wraps his arms around me, heaving me
onto the bed as easily as if he'd lifted a feather.  Coming up after
me, he rolls me underneath him, then proceeds to gaze lustily at
every inch of me starting at the mistletoe which just happened to
land right where it was supposed to when my back hit the mattress -
right over my curls.  He slides a finger or two under the chain and
makes the sprig bounce on me, before he deigns to reply.

"Actually, Scully - this was the only way I could think to walk
around in public without getting arrested for lewdness.  I had to
stop by and pick up the flowers, and I had a feeling I wouldn't find
a parking spot very close to your building - and I didn't.  So I had
a very good excuse for tying cut-off pants on my legs..."  He flicks
at the mistletoe nestled against me and one fingernail 'accidentally'
strokes underneath, causing me to gasp.  His mischievous grin is wide
as he adds, "So what's your excuse, hmmm?  I mean, I had a good one
for my get-up, but I can't for the life of me figure out why it would
be important for you to be walking around in your apartment wearing
nothing but mistletoe and a smile..."

I am caught in that hazel gaze of his again, willingly - seeing
those lips inching closer and closer, knowing the exact moment I feel
his breath on my mouth, that a kiss is merely one touch away.
Wanting it so badly... needing it more than anything... except my
mouth is not where I'd first imagined I'd want to feel that breath,
if you get my drift... So I manage to reach out one hand and wind
fingers through his hair, tugging his head back until I can look into
his eyes as my response to him leaves him in no doubt as to the
desired location of this first kiss.

"Mulder... later on you can explain to me just why you deemed it
necessary to venture outside your apartment dressed as a flasher...
right now I think it's more important that you honor the true
tradition of mistletoe."  I watch him formulate a smile of polite
inquiry, as if he doesn't already know what comes next...

"Which would be...?"  His voice has grown husky and the sound of it
sends a shiver down my spine as I whisper the answer into the small
space between our bodies.

"That whatever you find underneath the mistletoe is what gets
kissed, Mulder... so I'd highly recommend you get busy."  With that,
I gently push at his head until with an exaggerated sigh of
resignation and a muttered, "If I must..." - Mulder obligingly slides
down into the proper position, carefully lifts the sprig - and kisses
me.

Oh, God... be careful what you demand of your lover on New Year's
Eve, for you just may very well get more than you bargained for.

That first kiss has me forgetting not only what day it is but my
name, my badge number and most of the English alphabet.  We've been
together four weeks and I'm just learning to ask for what I want; to
accept that I have a right to be demanding - and that sex can be as
playful as it is erotic.  It took a lot of courage to strip naked and
tie a sprig of mistletoe around my waist, based on nothing more
promising than a casual remark from Mulder.  For me, sex and play was
never practiced together.  Until Mulder I didn't really know that
making love could be anything more than a way to release tension from
the body - if I was lucky enough to even achieve the release.

Four weeks - and my life is upside down; four weeks of loving, and
being loved by, one Fox Mulder.  Both of us finding out just how
needy we were, after years of voluntary celibacy.  Both of us
discovering a side to ourselves we never knew; those unknown sides
meshing so well together that it feels as if we were born making
love.  It's said for everything there is a season, and I would have
to agree.  I doubt we'd have it so good right now if we'd begun an
intimate relationship years ago, when we were too young and unsettled
to know our hearts. Because we left it almost too late, the resulting
blending of our lives is especially sweet.

If I have not learned anything else about Mulder, I have learned
that he will not be rushed when it comes to lovemaking - or having
fun.  And when Mulder combines fun with sex, I am pretty much doomed,
so all I can do is just lie back, roll with it and hang on with both
hands and all ten toes.  Which is just what I do - I lie back and let
him have fun...

Starting with one well-placed kiss.

Mistletoe has its advantages, scratchy leaves aside; I feel the
chain slip from my waist as Mulder removes it, then I lean back and
let him demonstrate the very best uses for the little white-berried
parasite.  Like all memorable kisses, this one first nuzzles me
gently with a silky bottom lip, before settling in for a more serious
caress.  I sink my nerveless fingers into the bedspread, and hang on
for dear life as he presses his mouth deeply; as his tongue - the one
strong enough to do pushups - slips along sensitive folds and curls
itself lovingly around my clit.  I can't move my hips; Mulder's got a
grip on my pelvic bones and seems to be getting a kick out of pinning
me down... not that I'm complaining; I'm too busy moaning to voice
much complaint.  As mistletoe kisses goes this one is a hum-dinger -
a word my father used to like to say.  I always swore I would never
under any circumstances compare anything to a hum-dinger - but
somehow that word fits, right now.

In between candy-sweet kisses placed with carelessly careful
abandon, Mulder whispers the most outrageous things into my skin.
Telling me what he wants to do to me - "Gonna lick every inch of you,
Baby; head to toe and then back to head and everywhere in between;
gonna get a faceful of Scully and roll in it..."  The words he speaks
makes me flush hot all over; none of my past lovers ever spoke to me
during sex and I'm still acclimating myself to this side of Mulder.
I can feel it building and strengthening, that coil of need inside
me; with a gasp I let go of the bedspread and pull him up to me, far
enough to wind both arms around his neck, yanking him onto me, full
length.  I adore the kisses and the words, really I do - but right
now I am in such a frenzy of want that I can't wait any longer, not
even for tenderness.  And as I slide my legs around my lover and
press him down into me, the groaning chuckle he releases into my neck
tells me that was the plan all along...

And he slips inside me with one long delicious stroke of heat: I
swear I'll never get used to that first initial push of him, so good
and tight... we fit together perfectly.  Propping himself on his
elbows, Mulder stares down into my face with eyes gone dark and hot;
I fight to keep mine focused on him but it's so hard to do when they
keep wanting to roll back in their sockets... The way his hands
cradle either side of my head, those long fingers warm against my
scalp as he thrusts within my trembling body; every small nuance of
caring he lavishes upon me tells me I am cherished beyond measure.

Four weeks of loving Mulder and I will never be the same; where
before I thought of myself as just another hapless soul struggling to
survive life in an uncertain world... now I see myself as someone
worthy of Fox Mulder's devotion - and in embracing that new position
I have afforded him the right to be happy as well; to be worthy in
return, of my love.

It's New Year's Eve and I have a new dress wasting away in a closet;
there's a bottle of champagne in my fridge that will no doubt be
drained in about an hour or two... depending upon whether we feel
like stopping long enough to ring in the coming year with something
other than physical expression.  A bouquet of deep red roses sits on
the edge of one of my nightstands, filling the small rooms of my
apartment with their heady fragrance, and next to an expensive
charcoal silk trenchcoat lying in a heap on the floor is a silver
chain with a slightly wilted sprig of mistletoe dangling from its
thin links.  Once more Mulder has managed to take me by surprise and
make me laugh - and this time I was able to return the favor.  Being
loved by this remarkable man has loosened me up quite a bit - in more
ways than one.

I would expend additional energy on further contemplation of how
lucky I am... but I think I'll use it on my partner; turn the tables,
so to speak... right after the mother of all orgasms rips through me
and about takes the top of my head off, Ohh God, Mulder... This one I
can't keep inside me.

"Ohhh, GOD, MULDER...!"  I latch onto his mouth as the force of my
climax tightens every muscle in my body, including the inner muscles
gripping him; it must be enough to send Mulder over the cliff because
his hoarse shout vibrates inside my throat as we both shudder against
each other.  I am kissing him with furious ardor and with my eyes
wide open; I don't want to miss the show going on in those gorgeous
orbs of his - better than watching fireworks, as far as I am
concerned.  Dark and smoky and dilated with residual passion, and all
for me.  I feel very lucky, even before his low whisper reaches my
ears.

"Scully... I'm so in love with you I can't even remember my own
badge number..."  The smile which breaks over my face seems
ridiculously wide, but I don't feel silly forming it, as I reply in
as equally-soft a voice.

"Ditto on the memory loss, Mulder... and I'm in love with you as
well.  God, so much... Happy New Year, Partner."  One final kiss
touches my lips so gently and sweetly, before his head comes to
rest on my pillow.

"Happy New Year, Baby...  and thanks for the mistletoe..." I yawn
into his neck and snuggle close, keeping him inside me with his body
covering mine like a blanket as I formulate a drowsy reply.

"Well, thanks for the kisses..."  His sleepy mumble is almost
inaudible, but my saturated brain catches it and tucks it in with me
as I doze off.

"Anytime, Scully... that's a promise."  His breath evens out into
sleep as he winds me tighter against his skin, and the last thought I
have before drifting off is that he's managed to weasel out of
telling me why he dressed as a flasher to begin with...

That, and the fact he's still wearing the silly cut-off khaki legs;
I can feel them against my feet.  Ah, what the hell... tomorrow I'll
give him a thrill - after all, it's a new year for us... I'll remove
them myself - with my teeth.

Or maybe I'll just do it in an hour, or two...

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

end


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