From: "Melody" Date: Thu, 4 Nov 1999 23:00:53 -0600 Subject: Against The Wall (1/2) NC-17 by Melody Source: xff TITLE: Against The Wall (1/2) AUTHOR: Melody EMAIL ADDRESS: harmne@kans.com DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Okay to post or archive so long as my name and info remain attached. Please send me URLs of archives so I can visit! SPOILER WARNING: Nothing much, but it IS post-Diana Fowley. RATING: NC-17 for sexual content (SMUT!) CONTENT WARNING: M/F sex CLASSIFICATION: MSR SMUT SUMMARY: While out of town at a partnership seminar, the agents are asked to take a look at some strange rooms found in an old warehouse -- with surprising results. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Against The Wall (NC-17) by Melody Part 1 of 2 Chicago Convention Center 9:20 PM The partnership seminar was officially over. Thank God. I couldn't remember a time when a week stretched so long. Mulder and I played all the games, solved all the puzzles, ran through all the mazes set up to test and improve our effectiveness as partners, and we'd blown away all the competition. Pretty amazing, considering we hardly spoke to each other anymore. I wandered aimlessly around the hotel room fingering the cheap silk scarf around my neck. It was one of the tacky souvenirs designed for tourists, but it had been a 'trophy' presented to me tonight during the dinner for excelling at one of the games. Which one eluded me: I couldn't even remember what Mulder's trophy had been. I'd tucked the scarf in my pocket on the way back to our table and Mulder plucked it back out as we sat down, sliding it around my neck and tucking it under the lapels of my jacket. His familiar touch, especially under the curious eyes of the rest of the table, had immobilized me completely, but Mulder's face had been expressionless. I didn't think I could take much more of the distance between us. I had just kicked off my high-heeled pumps when a knock came at the hotel room door. Sighing, I reluctantly stepped back into the shoes. The knock was from the hall door instead of the connecting one, so it probably wasn't Mulder -- unless he'd locked himself out again. Hopefully someone just had the wrong room. I was really looking forward to a soak in the tub, even though I showered just a few hours ago. Sitting through the dinner that wrapped up the weeklong seminar had been more exhausting than a regular case. The door revealed a cop in uniform, though, and my hopes for a bath sank. "Agent Scully?" he asked. I nodded and motioned him into the room. Since he asked for "Agent" Scully, he would probably need Mulder, too. I took a few steps back, knocked sharply on the connecting door between our rooms and called Mulder's name. When I got no answer I opened the door a crack. As I'd expected, the door on the other side was wide open and the TV was blaring. Before I could call again, though, Mulder appeared. His hair was rumpled and he'd taken off his suit jacket but he hadn't had time to really get comfortable for the night yet, either. The young officer looked relieved when he saw Mulder. "Oh, good, Agent Mulder is here, too. I apologize for bothering you, but one of our detectives at the 34th heard you were in town and sent me to ask a favor." He paused, flicking an apologetic glance at me. "A couple of our local politicians were missing for a few days, and when they turned up they claimed they'd been kidnapped, held in an old building, and subjected to torture. We've been checking around and we've found a building that may match their description. Ahmm... Detective Shively thought you might be able to tell us if we have the right one." "The politicians can't tell you?" I asked. "No, ma'am." The young officer, whose nametag read 'Kelly', looked embarrassed. "We called, but they're both under doctors' care. One is on prescribed bed rest with no disturbances, and the other evidently is under sedation." "What makes Detective Shively think you've found the building?" Mulder asked. "And why does he think we can tell him if he's right?" "The victims said they were held in torture chambers. This building has some weird rooms..." He broke off to shrug. "None of us really know what a torture room would look like. Shively figures FBI agents might." Mulder and I looked at each other. "It's not even 9:30 yet," Mulder said, "and it shouldn't take long. You can stay here if you want." "No, Mulder, I'll come, too," I said. "Maybe some fresh air will do me some good." Besides, I didn't want him wandering off on his own - I knew what usually happened then. We both caught the surreptitious movement as the officer checked his watch, and Mulder smiled faintly. "Is this running you into overtime?" he asked. The young cop looked embarrassed. "It took a little while to find you. The desk clerk wasn't clear on which banquet room the dinner was in, or when it was over." "When is the end of your shift?" "Ten, usually. But I don't mind staying over." I could almost read Mulder's mind, and I was sympathetic, too. The wedding band the cop wore was so obviously brand new even I had noticed it. So I volunteered before Mulder could. "How about if we follow you over -- then you can leave from there and not worry about bringing us back to the hotel." The young man's smile flashed with relief. "Are you parked out front?" "No, ma'am. In the parking garage." "We'll be down in a few minutes." After the door closed behind Kelly, Mulder turned to me. "You don't have to come if you're tired, Scully. I don't mind going alone." "Trying to get rid of me?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out, and made an erasing motion with my hand as if that would delete them. "I'm sorry, Mulder, I know that's not what you meant. I am tired, but I'm tired of sitting more than anything else. Getting out a little after all these seminars will feel good." "The seminar could have been worse, Scully. They could have had us build pyramids out of office furniture." He grinned slightly, and I knew he'd already forgiven me. "I'll get my jacket and meet you in the hall." I checked the pockets of my jacket to make sure I had my ID and keys, made sure I had some cash, then clipped my gun to the waistband of my skirt. Mulder stepped out into the hall the same time I did, still in the process of pulling on his suit jacket. I could see his gun on his belt but I would've bet my next paycheck he'd forgotten his room key again. His hair was finger-combed. My heart turned over as it still did at the most unexpected times. I did my best to push it away, wondering for the thousandth time if things would ever be right between us. We'd come so close... But I'd think about that later. Right now possible torture chambers awaited. ================== The trip to the building actually took about twenty minutes. It was on the riverfront in an area where urban renewal was just beginning to gain a toehold. Most of the property was warehouses, many of them abandoned, but some were in the process of being torn down or remodeled. The black-and-white stopped in front of one that, except for a security light burning over the door, looked vacant. "We borrowed the keys from the owner," the young officer said when Mulder and I met him at the door. "He inherited it a few months ago from an uncle. He told us he hasn't been here yet, he only got possession of the keys last week. His story checked out." The key scraped in the lock and the door squeaked as he pushed it open. Just inside the door was a row of light switches. He flipped several of them on as we stepped in. Half the light bulbs in the place seemed to be burned out or missing, but there was enough light to see the small piles of debris scattered about. Empty cardboard boxes, an old metal barrel, and various scraps of paper composed the closest heap. Along the front wall was an long narrow room once used as an employee break room, with battered metal lockers still hanging from one wall and a small restroom in one corner. "The rooms I told you about are in the back of the warehouse," Officer Kelly said. "I'll just show you." The back of the warehouse had been walled off and the resultant space divided into rooms separated by a narrow hallway. Kelly led us to the hall and opened the first two doors, stepping aside so we could look in. Mulder took a few steps into the first room, looked around briefly, then went on to the next room. "Not much here," he observed. That was all he said. He inspected the third room without a word. By the time he came out of the fourth room I knew something was going on. Mulder was rarely this quiet. Normally he kept up some kind of running banter with the local law. I wanted to ask him what was going on, but something about his manner kept me silent. I just waited until he'd walked through the last three rooms. "Officer Kelly?" Mulder spoke finally, his voice echoing oddly from the doorway of the last small room. "I think I can safely say these aren't your torture chambers. Either you've got the wrong building, or your victims are telling you a tall tale." "What do you mean?" "Was there evidence of torture on the victims' bodies?" Mulder asked. Officer Kelly looked confused, and Mulder shook his head. "Is your detective still on duty?" "No. He was going home when he sent me to find you. I'm supposed to report to him in the morning." "Well, tell him these aren't torture chambers. Besides, none of these rooms have been used in months - the dust on the floor inside the rooms was undisturbed. There were footprints only in the hall and the doorways. Tell the detective he's going to have to keep looking. Scully and I fly home tomorrow afternoon, so if Detective Shively wants to talk to me he can reach me at this number." He found one of his cards, wrote his cell number on the back and gave it to the officer. "Yes, sir." Carefully Officer Kelly stowed the card in his pocket. "Do you need me for anything else, Agents?" "I don't think so," I said, looking at Mulder for confirmation. He seemed distracted, which stirred my curiosity even more. "I'd like to look around a little longer, if that's okay," Mulder said hurriedly when he realized we were both looking at him. "Will the outside door lock without the key?" "Yes, sir, just pull it closed. Look around all you want." With a smile and a sketchy salute, the newlywed officer took off. I waited until I heard the door shut behind him before I spoke. "Okay, Mulder, what's going on?" He gave me one of his half-shrugs. "I just want to look through the rooms again. I won't take long." I accepted that, but trailed behind him as he walked through them again. I looked a little more closely at the odd rooms, too. They were little more than concrete-block cubicles, no windows, with small sinks in one corner. Several rooms had hooks in the walls. One had metal loops embedded in the concrete floor. All the floors were covered with a fine layer of dust, disturbed inside the rooms by only our footprints. As Mulder perused the seventh room my curiosity got the best of me. He was keeping his face expressionless, but I could practically hear his brain humming. "Okay, Mulder, what is it? What are these rooms? Are they torture chambers, after all?" "Not exactly, Scully. I really think they've got the wrong building. Either that, or the victims weren't actually victims." "What do you mean?" "I think this building was a sex club." I just stared at him, too surprised to speak, trying to decide if he was kidding or not. My mind flew back over the rooms... The first room had been bare except for a metal straight-back chair and a hook on the plain concrete-block wall. The second room had a vinyl chair shaped like a weird giant hand. In fact there seemed to one odd thing per room: a freestanding pillar of polished granite, a low narrow wooden table, four metal loops in a square on the floor, and a large empty wine barrel. This room, just like the others, was a small concrete-block room with a plain concrete floor. A small sink was in one corner with a floor drain beneath it. No windows. On one wall was an odd teardrop shape made from stuffed brown vinyl. Above it and on either side about three feet from the floor were metal hooks embedded in the wall. No matter how I looked at the odd shape, I couldn't see any connection to sex. "You're joking, aren't you." He was, wasn't he? "You've been watching too many of those videos that aren't yours." I looked over at Mulder to see if he'd admit it only to find him staring fixedly at the teardrop. There was something odd about the way he was standing. I glanced at the shape and back again just in time to see Mulder slip one hand into his pants pocket in an attempt to hide his growing erection. He was aroused! "No, I'm not joking. C'mon, let's get back to the hotel. Hopefully that kid didn't accidentally lock us in." Not yet! I wanted to know why that ugly vinyl shape turned him on. Stubbornly, I didn't move. "Not yet, Mulder. Why do you think this was a sex club? I don't see the connection." "Scully, you don't want to know." His tone was wry and he wouldn't look at me. "Yes I do," I insisted. He hesitated so long I was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer. Finally he took a deep breath. "These are bondage rooms," he said. His voice held an odd tone that told me he was uncomfortable talking about this with me. He glanced sideways at me as if to see if his answer would end the conversation. It had only given me more questions, but before I could voice them he asked, "Did you ever watch that show 'Red Shoe Diaries'?" I nodded, and he continued. "There was one episode about a female cop. She spent a lot of time trying to get this man to notice her, but he never did. It made her angry. So she 'arrested' him, took him to this place, handcuffed him to a chair and ... had her way with him. Get it?" Mulder had turned to me as he finished. Oh, yes, I remembered that episode well - it was one of my favorites. I felt my face heat and knew his watchful eyes wouldn't miss the telltale flush. Something flickered across his face before he dropped his eyes and turned away. Was that longing I saw in his eyes? Or was I reading into it what I was hoping to see? I swore to myself I wouldn't let another opportunity pass, but I wanted more than that glimpse of emotion to go on. I wet suddenly dry lips and took a steadying breath. "Okay, I get the picture. And even I can figure out the table. But what about the room with the granite pillar?" Mulder rocked back on his heels and looked at the ceiling, and I knew it had surprised and rattled him that I was even asking. Sex was something we NEVER talked about. Ever. His answer was succinct. "Tie the person to the pillar and they're at your mercy. Pretty much the same thing with the table and the rings in the floor of the fifth room, too." Even as he spoke I watched him slide his other hand into his pocket. He was definitely aroused. But why? Was just talking about sex and bondage doing it? Did I dare believe it had anything to do with me? I needed to get him to face me. "How about the wine barrel?" As I had hoped, this question got him to turn, and he eyed me with something akin to wariness. "Lie across one on your belly and you're helpless. Even more so on your back. And the barrel can be rocked..." he caught himself and shut up before he said any more. He wouldn't quite meet my eyes. It wasn't just the rooms or my imagination. My being here with him, talking about sex and bondage, was getting Mulder hot. How far could I go with this? Far enough to break down the barrier that had grown between us since Diana had reappeared in his life? I had to try. "And this thing?" I pushed, pointing to the teardrop attached to the wall. I could hear my heart hammering at nearly twice it's normal rate and wondered if Mulder could hear it, too. "Uhh... It's for pushing against." Mulder's reply was vague. Color was creeping across his cheekbones, and even with both his hands in his pockets I could still see his erection. He was very, very aroused... and I was getting there fast. Bondage was not what I would have chosen for our first sexual experience, but I'd take Mulder any way I could get him. If I didn't do something drastic soon I might lose him anyway. If it took bondage to bridge the void between us...so be it. Feeling reckless, I said, "I don't get it. Can you ...show me?" My voice came out husky and Mulder turned to me sharply. For several minutes he stood there, staring at me. I tried to let him see what I was feeling, with my eyes, my face, my body language. His eyes went dark and I found it suddenly hard to breathe. "You want me to *show* you?" he asked finally. **end part 1/2** ----------------------------------------------------------------- Against The Wall (NC-17) by Melody Part 2 of 2 "You want me to *show* you?" he asked finally. I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak. He stepped closer and looked down into my face. "How far do you want me to go, showing you?" I met his eyes and fought to steady my panicky pulse. This was my chance, maybe my last chance. If I could show him what he means to me this way... I prayed, swearing to myself and God that I wouldn't waste this opportunity, that I'd tell Mulder how I felt and exactly what he meant to me before this night was out. So many times I'd tried, but something had always stopped me, some ill-timed interruption or plain cowardice on my part. Bondage... it was the ultimate trust. There was no one I trusted more than Mulder. Would he understand? I had to take the risk. "As far as you want to," I answered huskily, nervously wetting my lips again. "All the way." For another long minute he stood there looking at me as if to decide whether or not I was serious. When he turned and walked away my heart fell, but he only closed the door and threw the bolt. It blocked out most of the light in the room, leaving only what came from the dim bulb in the ceiling fixture. Mulder shrugged out of his suit jacket as he slowly walked back towards me. He dropped it on the floor and stopped only one step away from me. My eyes followed his movements as he very deliberately unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them twice. Then he put his hands on his hips and asked one more time, "Are you sure you want to do this?" My eyes flicked to the bulge in his pants he was now making no effort to hide, then back to his face. His face was mostly in shadow now, but his eyes still gleamed. The intensity I saw and felt directed at me was a little frightening. "Yes," I whispered, "I'm sure." Mesmerized, I watched him reach for his tie and pull it loose. "Take off your jacket," he ordered. I obeyed almost without thinking, sliding it off my shoulders then holding it uncertainly. He took it and dropped it atop his. He stepped closer and pulled the holster from my waistband, tossed it onto the jackets, then did the same with his own gun. Then he pulled handcuffs from the clip on his belt. "Give me your hands." My breath caught, but I held my hands out. Mulder was my partner. He would never hurt me. The cuffs closed around my wrists just snugly enough that I couldn't pull them off. One of Mulder's thumbs caressed the tender skin above my wrist almost absently. "Don't pull on these, Scully, or you'll tear up your wrists." "Okay." It came out in a whisper, barely audible. His hands were warm on my shoulders through my silk blouse as he guided me back a step, then he took my bound hands and raised them over my head. A faint grin touched his mouth and he looked down at me. "Must be fate, Scully. You're too short for this hook." Was I going to let anything stop us now? "I'll pretend," I promised, and pressed my hands against the cold concrete block wall above my head. "I won't move." Something hot and dangerous flared in Mulder's eyes. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his hands down the length of my arms and across my collarbones until he could cup my chin in his palms. "Be very sure, Scully," he warned, his voice rough, his breathing fast and shallow. I nodded my head. "If you want me to stop you'll have to tell me." I nodded again, then his head lowered and his mouth took mine in a searing kiss. When his tongue surged into my mouth my heart rocketed briefly against my ribs then settled to a slow pounding, but as soon as I started kissing him back Mulder pulled away. He tugged off my scarf as he stepped back, then pulled off his tie. Kneeling at my feet he tied them around my legs just above my knees. He wasn't tying my legs together... I couldn't see what he was doing, and couldn't guess. Mulder's hands on my legs made me tremble deep inside. Dampness began to gather between my legs. He stood, finally, and reached for my blouse, slowly pulling it out of my waistband and undoing the buttons from the bottom up. When he reached the top he spread it wide, exposing the creamy satin bra that exposed far too much pale skin. For a moment he just looked, taking in the rapid rise and fall of my breasts with my breathing, watching the pulse flutter in the base of my neck. At last he touched me. Long, hard fingers slipped across my ribcage, then up to stroke the undersides of my breasts through the satin. They traced the lines of the bra, brushed over rigid nipples and continued up the straps to my neck, leaving my breasts aching in anticipation. His hands cupped my face and his head bent. He kissed me then, gently, cradling my head in his hands. A light kiss, then another, barely playing with my lips. Each kiss that followed was different from the first, a different angle, harder, softer, deeper, but with each one he built the intensity slowly. His hands moved, slipping down to stroke my breasts lightly through the satin. Each touch was torture, never lingering where I wanted his touch, not quite enough... I felt the clasp between my breasts give beneath the clever fingers. Then, finally, Mulder touched my breasts. Strong hands kneaded my soft flesh; long fingers found the pebbled nipples. He rolled them, catching them between finger and thumb, plucking and twisting until I moaned deep in my throat. He stepped into me, deliberately putting his feet between mine, using his weight to press me back against the wall. I felt the vinyl against my back and hips, felt his erection hard against my belly. My legs felt weak, and the flesh between my legs began to ache. Mulder's head bent to my breasts and my eyes closed as his mouth found a nipple. He suckled hard, flicking with his tongue and scraping the tender tip with his teeth. I barely noticed when his hands dropped to my hips and began easing my skirt up. Only when he trailed his mouth back up my throat did I notice my skirt was bunched around my waist. My lower body was covered only by the sheer lace-top pantyhose I'd worn beneath the clingy dress suit. Mulder's hands curved around the back of my thighs, lifting me high against him with unconscious ease. He rocked against me, his hard length pressing into the notch between my legs, finding just the right angle. My breath hitched and my arms somehow found their way around Mulder's neck. My hips bucked against him and Mulder groaned. Then his hands were behind my knees, urging them up, spreading my legs wide, wider... He ground himself into me until I moaned aloud, until my hands fisted tightly in his hair. He pulled my fingers loose and pushed my hands up, up, back against the wall. Then he stepped back, breathing hard, and I realized I was bound. The ties around my knees had been slipped over the hooks on the wall, and hook above me held my cuffed hands high over my head. I was hanging spread-eagle against the wall with my legs bearing most of my weight. The stuffed teardrop thrust my pelvis toward Mulder, leaving me exposed and very, very vulnerable. Understanding of the shape came, finally, and all the breath left my body. I had never felt so helpless, so completely without control. Panic stirred and I began to tremble, my breath came in shallow gasps and for a moment I felt faint. Then my eyes met my partner's, and the fear faded. This was Mulder. I trusted him as I could never trust another. Mulder would never hurt me. He stood just out of reach, his eyes on my face, watching, waiting. Color stained his cheekbones, the fabric of his pants strained at the zipper, and his chest heaved as he fought for control. His eyes were wild, but I knew I could end this here with only a word. I made no sound. Slowly his hands came up and started on the buttons of his shirt. His eyes never left mine. The message in them was clear. He was going to take me. Unless I stopped him. Did I want to? God, no. I wanted him. The shirt hit the floor. His chest gleamed in the dim light, sheened with sweat. His hands dropped to his belt, the long agile fingers pulling at the leather, manipulating the buckle. I could hear my own harsh breathing, and my belly, my breasts, were beginning to ache. The flesh between my legs ached and throbbed with heat. His buckle slipped free, the zipper eased down... He stepped forward, his mouth fusing with mine. His weight pushed me into the padded vinyl, the ridge of his erection hard against me. I moaned, kissing him back desperately, trying to suck his tongue deeper into my mouth, stroking it urgently. Unconsciously I tried to pull my hands free, wanting to touch him, pull him tighter against me. He broke the kiss, breathing raggedly. "Be still! Be still or you'll hurt yourself," he groaned against my lips, and I subsided. I felt his hands slip between our bodies, felt and heard my pantyhose tear, then there were no more barriers and his fingers were on me, pressing into my wetness, sliding deep inside. I cried out in pleasure. He kissed me again as his fingers worked, finding and stroking all my secret places. His mouth trailed down across my face to my neck, pausing to taste and nip the skin above my pounding pulse. When he found my breasts again, I was writhing, gasping his name. Begging. "Yes, Scully," Mulder rasped. "For me. Come for me." The heel of his hand pressed, his fingers curled, and I shattered. I groaned as his fingers left me, then his clothes were gone and his erection nudged into me, hot and hard. He pushed in slowly but steadily, panting as if fighting the urge to thrust deep. I was wet and ready, but I was still small. Mulder most definitely was not. It was going to be a tight fit... I writhed, gasping at the pressure. He paused, withdrew slightly, then pushed in again. Rocked back. In again, then back, then in, each thrust going a little deeper, a little faster. I was moaning and chanting Mulder's name in mindless pleasure when finally he thrust in all the way to the hilt. He stopped, sweat-slicked chest heaving, his full hard length buried deep inside me. His hands dug into my hips, trying to pull me tighter against him even as his body pinned mine tightly to the wall. His breathing was ragged as he pressed his face into my hair. For a time that was enough. He was inside me, hot and huge. His heart was racing. So was mine. A few deep breaths later he began to move again. Thrusting shallowly at first, slowly, barely moving... then deeper and deeper, until finally he was withdrawing almost completely before burying himself in me again. His hands cupped my breasts as his pace quickened, long hard strokes that pounded me against the vinyl. The force of each drive shoved me up the teardrop only to slide back down as he withdrew. I chanted incoherently between gasping breaths, shuddered as waves of pleasure crashed over me, screamed helplessly as I climaxed. Mulder didn't stop, didn't even slow down. Over and over I cried out as orgasms shook my body before at last he went rigid, spewing heat deep inside me in a wrenching release that tore a hoarse cry from his throat. He leaned heavily against me and we both gasped for breath. Gradually I became aware of trembling, but whether it came from me or Mulder, I couldn't tell. Possibly both of us. Gradually our lungs caught up. Mulder straightened and his hands came up to frame my face. His fingers trembled against my cheeks. "God, Scully," he breathed, then he kissed me oh-so-tenderly. His hands traced up my arms and lifted my wrists free of the hook. I managed to get my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his hair as he stroked back down my body to free my legs. My legs had no feeling and they dangled like a broken marionette's. Mulder was all that held me up. He cradled me against him, his hands caressing, making no move to complete his withdrawal from me. I don't know how long we stood there like that. Long enough for my legs to wake up. I bit back a moan when Mulder finally withdrew from me and stood me back on my feet. I felt somehow bereft. Fumbling for his keys, he unlocked the handcuffs and slipped them off my wrists. His fingers rubbed gently at the marks left by the bracelets, and I knew there would be bruises there in the morning. I didn't care, but Mulder must have. He bent his head and kissed the reddened skin in wordless apology. My shoulders shrieked in protest when I tried to reach out to him. I don't think I made a sound, but Mulder saw I was in pain. His hands found the muscles knotted and aching from being bound above my head and kneaded the pain away. I let myself lean against him, and finally found my voice. "Okay," I croaked in a voice hoarse from screaming. "I think I get it now." Mulder had gone still at the first sound of my voice, but a second later my words sank in and he began to laugh. A real laugh. Well, I finally managed to shock the hell out of my partner. Not to mention myself as well. Shared laughter broke the tension, and what could have been awkward suddenly wasn't. Mulder leaned back to look down at my face, his own relaxed and happy for the first time in recent memory. No shadows lurked in his eyes and his smile was tender. "Scully," he said, running a finger down my cheek, "I worry sometimes that you're too damn perfect to be real. I live in fear that someday I'll wake up and find you were just a dream." "If you're dreaming, so am I," I said softly. "Besides, you - better than anyone else on earth - know I'm far from perfect." Mulder was still smiling though his eyes had gone serious. "You are to me." He almost made me cry. Tears welled but I blinked them back. He understood and stepped back a little, chuckling a bit when he looked down at our bodies. "I'm extremely glad there aren't any cameras in here," he joked. His pants and boxers were crumpled around his ankles, his socks and shoes still on. My blouse and bra hung open from my shoulders, and my skirt was rucked up around my waist. My pantyhose were ripped and sticking damply to my thighs. My shoes were on the floor beneath the shape on the wall. Mulder chuckled again at the look on my face, then bent and pulled his boxers and pants up. He zipped his pants then fished in his back pocket and offered me his handkerchief, motioning vaguely in the direction of the sink. I took it, took a few steps toward the sink and stopped, distracted by the feel of Mulder's tie and my scarf still tied around my knees. Before I could move Mulder was there, untying the knots and removing them, and I went on to the sink. I was glad there was no mirror. I ran cool water over the square of cotton and rinsed the sweat from my face and chest, then fastened the clasp on my bra. Stripping off the ruined pantyhose was a relief. I washed as well as I was able then pulled my wrinkled skirt down, smoothing it over my bare bottom and legs. It felt strange and somehow naughty to be naked underneath. I was smiling to myself as I tugged my blouse into place and started on the buttons. Mulder was watching me when I turned around. He'd pulled on his shirt and partially buttoned it, and had his gun clipped back on his belt. My holstered gun was in his hands. "I don't know if I should give this back to you. When you see the back of your blouse you're gonna want to shoot me again." His eyes flicked to the teardrop and back and he shrugged helplessly. "The floor wasn't the only thing covered in dust." "I won't shoot you again," I promised as I took my gun and tucked it back where it belonged. "If it was only dust, it'll come out. And if it doesn't I don't care." He picked up our jackets, brushing at them, too, before holding mine out to me. The awkwardness was creeping back. "I guess we'd better get back to the hotel," he said. I wasn't ready for this to be over - not yet. Not until I was sure Mulder wouldn't retreat back behind that wall. Not until I knew if this had been a step forward, or a step apart. "Umm, Mulder," I said before I lost my momentary courage. I looked up into his face, acutely aware of the nakedness beneath my skirt. "Maybe we should check those other rooms before we leave." "What?" Mulder stared at me. I don't see how I could have surprised him, not after what we'd just done, but the look on his face started out as shock. Then the shock faded and he looked aroused and confused, as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh, run, or take me up on it. Arousal won. His eyes heated again, and that look combined with the feeling of being half dressed, aroused me incredibly - even though only minutes earlier I'd thought myself completely sated. Yes, the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Maybe it was an odd time and place, but the ice between us was well and truly broken now and I wanted it to stay that way. Finally I had the chance to make sure he knew exactly how I felt about him. There would be no interruptions here. Besides, my curiosity was up. I wanted to try another of the rooms... maybe with Mulder at *my* mercy this time... **end "Against The Wall"** **Author's note: Okay, you KNOW there'll be more of these...! Comments, questions, begging, and bribes eagerly awaited at harmne@kans.com!) This story is dedicated to Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Ten for all their help and support. They never complain when I bounce ideas off them! And they are always there for me with encouraging words! Thanks, Ladies!! Posted Nov. 4, 1999.