Disclaimer: Chris Carter and the gang have redeemed themselves with the new season, I am happy to say that these two are in the possession of Ten Thirteen. But don't we all like getting off on "borrowing" them for a while? :-)

Rating: *Mircophone squeal* "Number 1013...Order number 1013. Who ordered the smut, extra love sauce?!" This is NC-17. Take it or leave it.

Spoilers: Post-Milagro/The Unnatural.

Author's Notes: Ok, forreals-I think. One more chapter after this.

Feedback? "I'm hungry." *like Mrs. Peacock*

I shut off the water and pull the plug on the tub. I step out and quickly dry off, pull my robe over my shoulders. I cinch the belt closed on my way to the door. "What do you want, Mulder?" I ask as I open the door, he had just started knocking again. "And before you ask, I'm not going to Montana, or..or Louisiana, or wherever you want to go this time-Are you drunk?" I can tell just by looking at him. I'm not one to talk, still a little fuzzy in the head myself. But he is a sight. His five o'clock shadow has begun to make it's appearance. He leaned on my door jamb after I opened the door. I'm standing there with my hand on the knob, my eyes moving down his body in that jersey.

His eyes squint and he crosses his arms, studying me. Right before he speaks, his eyes light up. "What were you doing, Scully?"

I feel the flush creeping up my neck into my cheeks. "Nothing." Be more obvious, Dana, why don't you? "Taking a bath."

He sticks out his chin a little towards me, looking down his nose at me, probing me with his gaze. Finally, his eyes light up again. "Right. To answer your questions: One, yes I am drunk." He sticks up one of his fingers in the air, "and yes, I am going to answer your questions out of the order that you asked them. Two, I don't know what I am doing here."

I stare at him for a long moment. "Motive is never easy. Sometimes it occurs to one only later."

He stares back at me for a longer moment. "Where did you hear that?"

I clear my throat, moving my hand to my hip. I am avoiding his eyes. "Padgett. In his apartment."

"I see…well, I will admit. He had a way with words. He had the ability to move people."

"That's not funny, Mulder."

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry. But, Scully? He was right about motive. I didn't know why I came here. I tried not to, actually. And yet, here I am. And now, I know why I am here." He stops his rambling, gauging my reaction.

I move my hand higher on the door, wrapping my hand around the end of it and leaning on it. I'm staring up at him, still feeling the warmth in my center from what I didn't finish in the bathtub. I look at his tousled hair, his forearms where he has them folded, his lips, then his eyes. We stare at each other for a long time, and finally I squint at him a little when I realize what is happening. We are each daring each other to make the first move.

I play out my options in my head, telling him to go home; telling him to sleep it off on my couch; pulling him to me with a fist full of the fabric on that jersey and taking him to my bed…

My cheeks flush again at the idea, but I refuse to act first. Does he even REALLY want this? I ask him with my eyes. He tilts his head back, looking down his nose at me again. He clenches his jaw and I see pure, unadulterated desire in his eyes. "I see you, Scully…" he whispers.

There is an intense stare between us, the air becoming thick. Finally, I squint my eyes at him. Telling him to do it with a look. Triple dog daring him to take it if he wants it. His hand moves so suddenly to the side of my face that I flinch. My hand flies up to grab his forearm out of instinct. He steps in closer and bends to my height, hesitating once again. I pull back a little to focus on his eyes, searching them, daring him to 'see me.' He sees me react to the smell of his cologne. But still, I do not budge one inch towards him. My nostrils flare, my pupils dilate, my lips part. He raises that hand from my face and forcefully pushes the door all the way open. Grabs me by my upper arms with something like a growl deep in his throat and kisses me. It is far from gentle, he is meeting my triple dog dare with ardor. The tops of our tongues find each other first, my eyes going wide, then squeezing closed. He tastes like whiskey. He circles my tongue with his, giving me another low growl as his arms move under mine to my back. He pulls me tight against him, pulling me up onto my tip toes so he can stand a little straighter.

I feel him search with his foot and then he kicks the door closed. He turns me around and pushes me against it with force. Then he bends and lifts me easily. I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms cross behind his neck. He's kissing me so hard I think he is stealing my breath. I have the briefest thought that I have never been kissed like this in my life. He breaks the kiss and I whimper, but he nudges my face to the side with his cheek and kisses and bites his way down my jaw, to my neck. His stubble leaves a burning trail down my cheek. I open my eyes for the first time since he started kissing me, looking around my apartment through my hooded eyes. Is this really happening, or am I still fantasizing in the bathtub? I close my eyes again, giving into it.

He pulls back and puts a hand over the front of my neck. He doesn't squeeze but the move drives me crazy more than I would ever admit in this moment. He is making a low sound in his throat. He moves that hand to my chin and turns my face toward his, making me look at him. "I smell you, Scully." My robe is still loosely cinched around my waist but falling open at my chest and of course draping open over my legs. I smell me, too. The smell is mixing with his cologne and the whiskey on his breath and only adding fuel to the fire.

"The couch, Mulder. Now." I see his eyes darken before he kisses me again. He braces me as he backs away from the door, turning us around. My legs tighten around him and I raise up on him, wrapping my arms around his neck more tightly, kissing him from a higher angle. He has to break the kiss after a couple steps, watching where he's going. He sits on the center cushion of the couch and I'm straddling him. I claim his mouth with mine again, tilting my head to the left instead, disliking that angle and tilting back to the right. He's doing delicious things with his tongue on my mouth, this one kiss better than all of the sex I've had in my life. If that is true, and God knows it is, what would sex be like with him? That thought makes me grind down towards his hips. I don't make any contact, my knees are too close to him, but I involuntarily grind down once more. He reaches between us and undoes the belt of my robe. He scoots down and positions me better over him. I gasp and bury my face into his neck when I feel my center come into contact with the rough material of his jeans. He makes an extremely low guttural noise before biting the place above my collar bone, then putting his hand on my neck again and making me look at him. He holds my gaze for a long moment before reaching behind my head and pulling the clip out of my hair. After he drops it on the floor, I assume, he buries his hand in my hair and pulls me in for another earth shattering kiss. I am throbbing between my legs, bare over him. I am aware of my breasts hanging freely, the robe and my hair hanging over my shoulders. Feeling almost completely naked over a fully clothed Mulder. 'She felt wild, feral. Guilty as a criminal.' That was an understatement. Another mark for Padgett in the 'wrong' column. I never could have felt this with him, could I? Mulder pulls back from our kiss, our noses still touching, his breath actually hitching as he takes in a deep breath, then exhales right in front of my mouth. I still fainty smell the whiskey on his breath and God it's intoxicating. "I want to touch you, Scully." I involuntarily grind against his jeans one more time, this time biting my lip and letting out a little whimper when I feel his erection has made an appearance. He grabs my face and l look at him, his eyes pleading. "Let me touch you."

I nod, actually asking, "please?" He pushes me back a little, I think he is asking to touch my center. But no, he pushes the robe back on my shoulders, down my arms, then off of me, onto the floor. I hold his gaze until finally his eyes trail down my neck, to my breasts. He rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, squeezing tightly.

One lock of his hair is hanging down over his forehead and I brush it away, watching him. He licks his lips, brings his bottom lip between his teeth, letting it slide out slowly, then pulls his top lip between them. He's biting down on it, his bottom lip moving ever so slightly. Just staring at my breasts and squeezing my thighs. I can't help it, I duck down and kiss him again. So hard, his head is on the back of the couch. I grind against him and his hand moves up my thighs, to my hips, holding me there tightly. I moan into his mouth, then pull back and gasp his name.

He moves a hand to the small of my back and holds me there as he kisses his way down my neck to the inside of my right breast. His left hand reaches up and tentatively, then with more purpose, squeezes it under his palm. He is placing little kisses between my breasts, his other hand between my shoulders now, holding me to him. He turns his head into my right breast, his stubble scratching across my skin. I hold onto his hair for dear life, my eyes rolling back into my head. Finally he takes my nipple between his lips and I come undone as his tongue flicks over it.

My core is aching now, my need for release crashing through me with a force that couldn't be ignored. I move back on his thighs, reaching down to raise his jersey and the shirt he's wearing underneath up over his head. My moves are deliberate, leaving no question that this part is over. "Now, Mulder…"

He makes that guttural noise again, reaching between us, undoing his jeans. I lift up over him, on one knee, my other leg holding my balance on the other side of him. I wait for him to get his pants down to his knees, then some how maneuver to get them down his legs. He kicks off his shoes, then his pants. I look down at his large erection and any last bit of reserve I had is gone. I take him into my hand and settle my knees on both sides of him again. I guide him to my opening and bury my face in his neck, both hands going to his shoulders. I push down and begin to take him inside me. His width, even with him just an inch inside me, is so delightfully filling.

He is mumbling incoherently into my hair, his hands gently resting on my hips, twitching with restraint. I whimper as I push down more onto him, taking him deeper inside, feeling myself filled and spread open more than I thought possible. My arms have wrapped around his neck, my face in the crook of it, scrunched up in unending pleasure. I have to spread my legs more to lower my hips and take more of him inside me.

Finally, when I am as low as I can go, he scoots down a little more on the couch. He moves me with him and pushes my hips down the rest of the way and thrusts up into me. My hands fly to the back of the couch and squeeze the cushions, letting out the loudest moan of pleasure into his neck. I lift my hips and begin to move. As soon as I do, I already feel the beginnings of my orgasm. I am tilting my hips down and back, feeling his hardness against the front wall of my center. Feeling him in depths I didn't know could be touched. I work my muscles around him, feeling it through my whole body as I ride him slowly.

I feel his hands all over me, restraining himself from taking control of my hips, letting me make use of his body as I need. His fingernails scratch down my back and I reach for the back of the couch, behind the cushions. My eyes are closed tightly and my face scrunched up, concentrating on the build up of my orgasm. I have never felt more like a woman than I do in this moment. Finally I tilt my hips to the left a little and start to crash over the edge. I wrap one arm tightly around his neck as I ride him, burying my face into his neck and moaning loudly, thinking it will never stop. My orgasm finally finishes, but I feel nowhere close to satisfied. Immediately I want another, my muscles are quivering again. I am still for a moment, catching my breath. My forehead is on the crook of his neck and I'm panting down between our chests.

"Scully?" he asks. I hear the pure need in his voice. I raise my head and kiss him deeply, moving off of him, guiding him over me as I lay back on the couch. I guide him back into me and he pants into my mouth, his breath hitching as he enters me again. I lift my legs high toward my chest, feeling dull pain turn into delicious pleasure as he enters and spreads me open deeper than before. I reach above my head, pushing into the arm of the couch, using the leverage to meet his thrusts. I throw my head back, eyes closed, beginning to come again. My back arches and I throw my head back, pulling him deeper into me with a hand on his ass.

I hear him chant in my ear a few times that he's going to come. I dig my nails into his skin and spread my legs wider, coming hard around him myself as he finally quits holding back and thrusts into me.

I chance one look at his face as he comes and it quickly brings me to the peak of another orgasm, the look on his face. He's sweaty, mouth open, eyes closed, groaning incoherently and shaking from his efforts. I close my eyes once more as I ride that third orgasm, holding him to me as we come together.

A few minutes later, he has his forehead propped on the inside of his forearm, right next to my head. He has almost caught his breath, but every now and then he gives another little involuntary thrust of his now soft penis inside me, making us both moan. I still feel like I could orgasm again, but my body is pretty spent.

I feel a chill now from the sweat all over my body. I push up on his shoulders a little, wanting to move him off of me. He resists and raises his head, opening his eyes. We make eye contact for the first time since before I took him inside me.

I am frozen for a moment, seeing a thousand questions in his eyes. Questions I don't have the answers to. 'Now what?' being on the top of that list. I shake my head, asking him with my eyes not to do this right now.

"Let me up, Mulder. I need to use the bathroom." He stares at me another moment before he nods and looks down, pulling himself out of me, both of us closing our eyes for a moment at the loss of contact. I sit up and get out from under him, slide on my robe and go to the bathroom.

I use it. I wash my hands and brush my hair. I rinse out my tub, put my necklace back on and pick up my wine and wine glass. I go to my bedroom and set it down. I push my bedroom door closed before putting on a fresh pair of pajamas. I pick up the wine and take it to the living room.

He has put all his clothes back on, except for his shoes and that jersey, which is laying on the arm chair next to my couch. His arms are crossed, his legs also, one ankle resting over his knee. I go and sit on the opposite side. I pour myself a half glass of wine. "Would you like some, Mulder?" I set the wine on the coffee table and turn to face him with one leg up on the couch, the other on the floor.

"No, thank you. I think I'm done for the night…" He turns to face me the same way. His right elbow rests on the back of the couch, propping his head up with two fingers on his forehead and his thumb above his jaw. We're looking at each other, but not really.

I slowly sip my wine. I look at my nails, thinking I should really give myself a manicure tomorrow. Look into my wine glass, look toward the window…expecting him to start rambling or asking me questions any moment.

I smile when I finally look at him. His face has turned more into his hand, his eyes closed, obviously drifting off. I stand, picking up my bottle of wine again. "You can sleep it off here, Mulder."

He opens his eyes and looks at me, drowsily. "Hm-what?"

"Lay down. Go to sleep." I hand him a blanket.

He takes it with his hand, setting it in front of him. "Are we ok, Scully."

"Yeah, Mulder. Just go to sleep."

"Ok…" He looks at me through sleepy eyes and holds my gaze a minute. I'm not exactly back pedaling, reeling back like I've sometimes done in similar less serious situations. But I do have a lot to process. I imagine we both do. He finally accepts my answer, reading my expression with a trained eye.

"Good night, Mulder."

"Night, Scully." He stands to strip down to his boxers as I take my glass and wine to the kitchen. I replace the cork to save what bit there is left, placing it in the fridge. I rinse out my wine glass and leave it upside down in the sink. I give him a long look on my couch, stretched out, blanket thrown across his hips, his chest bare. I let out a long sigh. I don't like not knowing what the next day will bring. I finally switch off the light, forcing myself to stop staring at his lean frame on my couch, grateful and disappointed that tomorrow is not a work day. It's enough to have to deal with this in the morning, but the distraction would actually be somewhat comforting and welcoming. I retreat to my bedroom, suddenly exhausted.