New Year's Eve

Chapter 2

7 p.m.

The dinner that Scully has made me is more delicious than anything I have had, ever. The steaks are seared perfectly and cooked to the ultimate medium rare. The asparagus is tender yet retains a slight crispness, and the garlic gives it a heady kick. The potatoes are indeed good enough to eat without butter, although both of us butter them anyway. The red wine she pours is tart and tannic and elevates the meal to utter perfection. Best of all, I am eating at Dana Scully's dining room table, with her beautiful face looking back at me across it.

"So how is it?" she asks.

"Splendid." I reply. "Really, you should be a gourmet chef."

She ducks behind her wine glass and waves a hand at me, laughing. "Oh Mulder you're just being nice. Thank you though."

"Where did you learn to cook like this?" I ask.

"I watch waaaaay too many cooking shows on cable." She whispers, a smile twinkling in her eyes. I laugh.

"Maybe I should watch those instead of the naughty channels." I try a slightly raunchy joke to see how it goes over. Maybe it's the wine. She just shakes her head as she gets up and takes her empty plate into the kitchen. I follow suit, almost running into her at the doorway. She giggles a little, takes my plate, and places it in the sink.

"Let's go sit down in the living room and finish this wine." she suggests. I duck back into the dining room to collect our glasses and then sink into a velvety luxurious couch. It feels like I'm sitting on a mound of pillows, it's so soft. She sits on the opposite end of it and brings her feet up underneath her. I notice that her toenails are painted red.

There is an awkward silence as neither of us quite know what to say. I do not feel ready to spring my confession on her yet. But the other quarters of my psyche, no longer having hunger as an excuse, are making their desires known. I worry that I will have to retire early to avoid embarrassment, and will fail at the chance to tell her how I feel.

Scully sets down her wineglass and scoots over closer to me on the couch. Her pupils are dilated in their verdant green fields, and her cheeks are flushed. I catch a whiff of strawberries as she settles herself right close, almost touching me. Then she reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder. I nearly explode. "Mulder, is something bothering you tonight? You're so quiet."

Part of me wants to tell her right there. Part of me wants to tackle her on the couch and make love to her. Part of me wants to cry at the tenderness of this moment. I do none of the above. I divert with humor as I always do.

"They say drinking brings out your true self. How do you know my true self is not just quiet and contemplative?" I ask, with a smile. I pray this works. It doesn't.

"Mulder, I'm not stupid. I've known you for 6 years now, and I know when something is bothering you. Please share with me. Maybe I can help."

I melt inside as she looks at me sweetly, offering to help. The words I need to say are right on the tip of my tongue. I cannot make myself say them quite yet. I am not sure if I can breathe. I try desperately to think of another smartass comment.

"How do you know I'm not just depressed that I can't cook like you?" I throw that one out there in a last ditch effort. It doesn't work either. I must be losing my touch.

She shifts next to me and I realize she is climbing into my lap, straddling me. Now I am certain I cannot breathe. I am also hard again. And she is going to brush right up against me and there will be no finessing or joking my way out of this one. I'm sitting on her couch digesting the world's best meal, with a giant boner. Classy.

Her face is right up in mine, her lips merely a breath away from mine. Her hands rest on my chest, and then slowly slide up my neck and into my hair, leaving tingles in their wake. I think I may die of pleasure right here on the couch. Her hands slide back down and start massaging my neck with maddeningly delicious precision. Her little fingers work into each muscle separately, sending waves of sensation through my entire body. Her belly nudges my erection as she reaches further down my back, but she says nothing.

My head is clouded with delicious sensations and with wine. I want to tell her, I really do. As much as I want to make love to her, I want to tell her how much I love her first. I don't believe the words have the same gravity unless they happen before intimacy. It is too easy to confuse intimacy and love. But even though she is sitting in my lap, I worry that my confession will scare her off. My confidence in myself is practically nil.

Her silky hands are working their way back up my neck and around the front to my shoulders and my chest. I reach up and put my hands around her wrists. "Dana." I whisper. I look into her eyes, which at first register hurt. She thinks I'm going to stop her. She is mistaken. I reach up and stroke her cheek, feeling like my rough hand is somehow defiling her soft ivory face. "Dana, I love you. I love you more than anything else in this world. I have loved you for 6 years now. And I needed to tell you that. I love you."

Her eyes grow wide and her cheeks grow pinker. A tiny tear forms in the corner of her left eye and quivers, unsure if it will fall or not. My heart is in my throat. And then a smile breaks over her face like the most amazing sunrise.

"Fox." she breathes. "Say it again. That was...that was so beautiful." The tear falls down, leaving a little trail behind it. I reach up and catch it as it courses down her face.

"I love you." This time the words come stronger, and with the immense relief of having finally unburdened myself. She is still in my lap. And now she is leaning down to rest her perfect lips on mine. The moment they touch is electric. My entire body feels the effects. I am lost in this kiss.

She breaks the kiss and leans over, her lips nearly touching my ear. "I love you too." she says. A thrill shoots through me and I think I might cry with relief. I have waited 6 years to tell her this. I have spent 6 years alternately trying to talk myself into it and talk myself out of it. Now I am sinking into her overstuffed couch with her perfect little self perched in my lap. She loves me too. Every cell in my body is singing with elation.

And I have no idea what to do now. I never thought I would get to this moment. I never bothered to think about what would come after. I am stunned in the most pleasurable way when I realize that she is running her tongue around the edge of my ear. Because she is leaning over, her entire body is pressed up against mine, and my erection is throbbing against her. I cannot move away, and in no way do I want to. When she tilts her hips to press into me even harder, a giggle escapes her lips and tickles my ear. I realize she not only isn't bothered by my erection, but it is turning her on. I could die a happy man right now.

Should I lie down on the couch, pulling her down with me? Do I let her take the lead? Do I suggest we retire to the bedroom? She is tugging at my shirt, pulling it up over my head. For the third time tonight, I feel as though I am 16; awkward and inexperienced. I don't know if I should remove her shirt as well or see what she has in store for me.

"Mulder." She says softly. "Mulder I want you." Oh how I have wanted to hear those words. Countless nights I have fantasized the many different situations in which she might say those sweet words to me. And now she is in my lap, undressing me, telling me she wants me. I do not know how I got to be this lucky. I want her so much I am pretty sure I will explode. I feel lightheaded.

"Do you want to stay here?" I manage to ask. "Or do you want to move to the bedroom?"

"Yes." She replies, and a wave of dizziness overtakes me again. This is even better than the fantasies I have enjoyed with myself.

I slip my hands under the hem of her shirt and stroke her back. She moans and presses against me again. I am so hard I ache. I need her. I need to be inside of her. I need to slow down so that I can love her the way she deserves to be loved.

I pull off her tee shirt, still waiting to hear her protest, but she doesn't. Her small breasts are cupped gently in a white cotton bra. I can see her nipples through the material. They are hard, poking out. My hand reaches up to stroke them and I can hardly believe what I am feeling. I hook a finger onto the edge of the cup and pull the fabric down. She leans over and places her nipple in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it, moaning as I do. Her moans mingle with mine and she squirms in my lap.

Her hands are in my lap, trying to undo the button on my pants, but they are straining around me so tight that she is having trouble. She goes for the zipper and before I can offer to help I am in her hand. I am hot and throbbing. Her hand is cool and gentle. She squeezes me lightly and I gasp. I feel her hand run over my head and encircle my shaft again. Another moan escapes my lips. She leans down and kisses me, her hand still around me, moving slowly up and down, driving me wild.

I gently guide her into a lying position on the couch. She wiggles her hips a little, urging me to remove her pants. Beneath the black yoga pants are silky satin panties. In my fantasies, I always figured she would wear cotton. I am not complaining. I can't help reaching out and stroking the shiny material. It is damp between her legs. Four hours ago I was sitting in my car thinking I should have not come here. Now I am shirtless on her couch, and she is nearly naked, wet and aroused and ready for me, wanting me to make love to her.

I pause for just a moment to drink in the beautiful sight before me. That thin cotton bra with her nipples poking up, straining at the fabric. Those silky white panties, with a tiny little bow on them. I slide a finger underneath the elastic on her hip and begin to draw them off slowly, watching her for a reaction. She lifts her hips to make it easier.

I unbutton my jeans and ease them down. My erection is sticking straight out of my boxers. I feel embarrassed for some reason. I look at her and she is smiling. I pull off my shorts and sink back onto the couch. She has removed her bra and is holding out her arms, beckoning to me.

"I have a condom in my wallet." I say, because I do not know how to bring up the subject any other way.

"Mulder I can't get pregnant. And I know we are both disease free." She looks at me as if she expects an argument. I don't have one. I have never made love without a condom before. The thought of having absolutely nothing between us is almost enough to make me come right there and ruin everything. But I hold back and lower myself into her arms. My lips find hers and the kiss makes me feel faint. Her hips are lifting up, coaxing me to enter her. I am suddenly scared. But her hand snakes between us and guides me in.

I know what heaven feels like. She is slick and warm and soft and she wraps around me like nothing I have ever felt before. I am aching hard and I do not know how long I can hold off before I explode in her. She lifts her hips, inviting me to thrust deep inside of her. I do. There are not words for how good it feels. I groan. I am all of the way inside of her; I can feel her cervix touching me. My heart wants to explode—I am so filled with love and desire that I worry I am going to start crying. She reaches up and pulls me down so that my entire weight is on top of her, but the couch is so soft that she isn't uncomfortable. She arches her back and tilts her hips, and I feel her tightening around me. Her breathing comes hard and that pink flush stains her chest and her breasts. I am torn between watching her beautiful face as she comes and adding to her experience by gently sucking on her nipples. I choose the latter and she cries out with pleasure. She cries out my name—Fox. I don't mind.

I feel her relax beneath me and she wraps her legs around me and draws me in deeper. "I love you, Fox." she whispers in my ear. I cannot hold back any longer. I explode inside of her, coming harder and longer than I ever recall. Wave after wave of delicious pleasure wracks my body as I thrust deep into her over and over.

I collapse onto her and immediately roll to the side so I don't crush her. A slight sheen of sweat glazes her body, and she is smiling up at me. I wonder if I am going to pass out. I feel like there are no bones in my body. She tucks a satiny throw pillow under my head, and puts her head on my chest. We are naked and sweaty, still clutching each other. I never want to let go.

"Mulder?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"I don't actually want you to sleep in the guest bedroom." Her statement is so sweet that I burst out laughing, holding her close to me as I do. She reaches for her wineglass, stretching over me so that her breasts tickle my lips. I close my mouth around one and nip at it. She giggles, spilling a little wine on me. "You know it's only 9 o'clock." she says. "We still have to stay up for 3 more hours."