Water and Sun
By redprint
Chapter 12 (Rated M!)
**Soft linens and high mountains**
FUSIO, SWITZERLAND
THURSDAY, AUGUST 14
15:23 HOURS
She couldn't believe how good it felt to sleep in his arms. His smooth skin touching hers, his scent sweetly teasing her senses. She hadn't felt that safe and blissful in a very long time, but she knew it came with a high price. The whole situation was a mess. Fighting a conspiracy of such proportions was madness, but she chose to be part of it, and what happened between the two of them, made things even more complicated.
She studied his features, carefully observing every line and deep of his sleeping face.
"I think father Nicola is a little too handsome for his own good," a middle-aged woman at the local food market of Montepulciano commented when she was buying some apples a few months ago. She was testing her, no doubt.
Scully looked at her and handed her a bag full of blushingly red apples for the woman to weigh and replied smilingly, "It's a matter of taste." She didn't want to discuss Nicola's appearance with her or anyone else. God knew that she found him too attractive for her own good.
And now she lay with him.
She ran her hand through her disheveled hair. How could she love him so much? It had no end or beginning. A tear threatened to spill down her cheek. "I love you," she whispered and covered her mouth to mute her cry.
He moved in his sleep and murmured something. His long eyelashes blinked and he opened his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked in a low sleepy voice.
She shook her head and looked away. She didn't want to discuss it. It was her own ordeal.
He eyed her warmly. "It's mine, too," he told her and she turned to him.
She shouldn't really have been surprised about his response. "You won't stop doing it, will you?"
He sighed and closed his eyes. "I don't want to pretend with you."
She pressed her lips together. She didn't want him to pretend, either. "I guess I'll need a lifetime to adjust to it."
He smiled lightly. "Tell me what's on your mind," he nudged again.
She sighed and exhaled heavily. What was she supposed to tell him? That she couldn't reconcile the love she felt for him with what she felt for Mulder? That she never thought they would end up in bed sharing each other so intensely? That she had trouble spending the day without him but wasn't prepared to give up her relationship with Mulder either?
He gazed at her in silence. "I see," he said after a moment. "It's complicated for both of us. But I made my choices, you made yours, and those choices brought us together."
She chocked down a whimper and wiped her eyes. He was right. Strangely enough, her decision to follow Mulder brought her to him. She wasn't going to lie to herself that it was Mulder's fault that she ended up in Nicola's arms. No, she wanted it. Badly so. The dreams she kept having of Nicola, the need to spend time with him, the longing and desperation, the quiet thoughts of 'what if'. Those feelings had a life of their own, and Mulder's sudden and frequent absences certainly didn't help. "I know," she tried not to sob, "I can't wrap my mind around all these feelings." She kept wiping her eyes until he stopped her.
"Don't try to rationalize," he told her gently and pulled her into his arms. "I've loved before and it made more sense, and so did you." He kissed her hair. "It made us who we are now. But I have never felt what I feel for you. It's overwhelming at times." He felt her press into him and interlaced fingers with her. He saw the pain and love she harbored for him. It was infinite. She must have sensed his thoughts because she brought their interlocked fingers to his chest just above his heart and kissed them. He squeezed her hand in return and pressed it tightly to him. It felt like a covenant was made.
The room was quiet. No one was there to disturb them. Their phones were off and the landline was dead due to a series of lightning from the week before. He put his right arm around her shoulders and hugged her gently, his splayed fingers caressing her sensitive skin. She sighed and kissed his deltoid muscle. The sheets were a soft linen, wrinkled and shuffled by their lovemaking.
She disentangled her fingers from his and slid her hand down his torso and to his abdomen, grazing the soft curls below his belly button. He opened his mouth in evident pleasure and her hand snaked to his member. He stared at her, getting harder with every stroke. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and mounted his hips. He groaned at the touch, never breaking eye contact with her. His hands went to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them, while she took him all in, moaning and rolling her eyes. Joined at hips, she wanted to lead, but his body sweetly overpowered her. He danced her to a shattering orgasm, only to be left in a tidal wave of pleasure himself. She collapsed on top of him, blacking out for a few minutes.
He brought her back to consciousness with soft murmurs and slow strokes of her back and arms.
She opened her eyes, and relished in the feeling of laying on his virile body. "We have to stop," she said quietly, "or I won't be able to walk tomorrow."
He chuckled heartily, "We are not going to stop if we don't get out of this bed. I'm starting to get really hungry."
She arched her brow.
"Food, Dana. I need food," he pointed out and she smiled. Of course he needed food. She slid off of him, and he groaned loudly.
She sat up in the bed. "Where do you want to go?" she asked.
"Let's pack and leave for a few days. We'll eat somewhere along the way," he suggested. A boyish enthusiasm pervaded his eyes.
"You mean right now?" she asked.
He nodded.
She pondered his offer for a few moments and accepted. "My stuff is always packed these days, anyway. Do we tell anybody?"
"No," he replied firmly. "Rosa and Marco will be just fine on their own, and Günther and Paul are coming back from Rome tomorrow."
He didn't mention Mulder. She adjusted her hair behind her ear and looked at him. "We can't avoid talking about him forever."
He swallowed. "I know. But I figured you would initiate the subject when you were ready."
"I just don't want to pretend he doesn't exist," she told him truthfully.
He sat up so that he could be face level with her. He ran his finger over lips and smiled. "You wouldn't be here, if he didn't exist. Your presence here is a testament of his own existence. I am fully aware of that. But I don't want to lose you." His eyes teared up and he couldn't go on.
"Oh, Nicola," she gasped and pulled him in an embrace. She kissed his cheek and brushed her hand over his head. "Let's pack and leave."
His heart jumped at her words and he kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless. "Let's go."
ZERMATT, SWITZERLAND
BACKSTAGE HOTEL SERVICED APARTMENTS
THURSDAY, AUGUST 14
20:18 HOURS
She was looking at the dark figure of the Matterhorn through a window of a luxury apartment in Zermatt. It turned out the owner owed Nicola a favor and Nicola decided to cash it in. Rising to 4'478 meters in front of her, the pyramidal mountain was strikingly beautiful. It stood at the end of the Matter valley in the midst of the Valais Alps.
"It's hard to believe that millions of years ago it was part of the African continent," Nicola said as he stepped near her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
The apartment was thoughtfully designed and refreshingly cool. The lights on each side of the bed cast long shadows over the white bed sheets.
"What if someone see us?" She asked in concern.
He looked at her and then at the mountain, "They will see a man whose love for the woman standing beside him cannot be eclipsed," he turned to her and kissed her neck, just bellow her ear, stealing a shudder from her, "and a woman whose integrity, intelligence and beauty outshine him."
She smiled at his words and turned her head to kiss him on his chaste lips. He tasted of sweet fruits and cool lagoons. A heady feeling rushed through her and her knees gave in. He caught her and deepened the kiss. Her hands circled his neck and her body pressed obliviously into his.
He broke the kiss, gasping for air, and searched for her eyes. And he saw there the battle that she was giving up. "Come here," he took her hand and invited her to seat on the bed next to him.
She was looking at him, not knowing what to do or say. Her psyche turned into something fluid and tender.
"We need to be careful, Dana," he squeezed her hand and held it fast. "Not about what other may see or think or say, but with each other."
She gazed at him with eyes open and clear, unsure of where he was going. "Go on."
He sighed and looked her in the eye. "It's easy to get lost in one another when we love with such intensity, but there are worlds inside us that needn't be rushed into existence."
Her brow creased. "What do you mean?"
He hesitated for a moment. Those things weren't easy to explain and he believed it wasn't wise to go too deep into them. He exhaled and looked into his lap. How the hell did he manage to get himself into that conversation, he thought.
"Nicola?" She asked, her voice a bit tense.
He looked at her with humble eyes. "I can feel the intensity of your love and the abandon that settles in your body when we are together. It's indescribable." He let go of her hand and brushed her cheek with his fingers. Her eyes closed. "It opens up a gate to a sacred place, a window that forever connects two souls. I need to be sure you really want that window to be open."
She was looking at him surprised. Her blue eyes bore into his with tender gravity. "Nicola, I'm not sure how to say this, but I've already opened that window. There's no going back for me. I am the soul on the other side."
His face lit up but he stayed prudent. "And you're not upset? I mean," he hesitated again, "dammit, I don't know how to say it," he felt frustrated.
"Just say it, Nicola."
"I'm afraid," he said finally, his voice trembling a little.
"Of what?" She asked gently. She found his hand and held it.
"To get hurt or hurt you," he admitted. "This love ... it leaves me naked." He was clearly out of his comfort zone. "And the thought of letting go scares the shit out of me."
She searched his eyes. "Doesn't your gift give you some kind of clarity?"
He smiled bitterly. "My gift is a double-edged sword. As I read others I get to face my own emotions and expectations. It's a challenge most of the time." He looked down at his feet.
She sighed. "Maybe it's a mirror," she suggested.
He looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe it's not a double-edged sword, but a mirror. Your need to see me out of control was your own need to finally let go. As you get to discover me, you end up discovering yourself," she explained, her manner composed.
He stared at her. It wasn't very often that he didn't know what to say. A mirror?
She nodded as if she could read his thoughts. "You're a wise man, Nicola. You'll figure it out."
She was about to get up when he stopped her. "Thank you," he said.
She smiled and moved toward him. She cupped his face and kissed him gently. It was the softest of touch and yet it made both lightheaded. "We should eat something. I saw a very tempting buffet in the hotel restaurant."
He hummed. "I see a very tempting buffet in front of me."
"Nicola!" She exclaimed. "I never!"
"Oh, really?" He provoked. "Never?"
She blushed unexpectedly.
His attention piqued. "When was the first time?" he blurted out.
Her brows arched. "Are you serious?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, come on. I want to know. When was the first time you fantasized about me?"
She couldn't believe he was asking her that. She stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not going to tell you that." She wanted to sound outraged but failed. The question excited her. Immensely.
"Please?" he joked.
She knew when was the first time she thought of him in an inappropriate way. It was a week after that December night when she had caught him looking at her from the shadows of his study. Mulder had been gone for more days than anticipated and she started feeling lonely in the evenings. It was around eight on a Thursday night and she was alone at the parsonage. Michele and Anna had gone to the town's Christmas fair, Clara was doing extra hours at the hospital and Nicola had gone to a meeting. She decided to go for a walk despite the chilly weather. It snowed lightly for the third day. The fields and surrounding hills lay covered in a soft blanket of white dust. She turned the collar of her coat to the cold. The night was silent and windless. The frozen leaves rustled beneath her feet. She turned right suddenly in between the olive trees for no apparent reason and ran directly into him. Her heart jumped at the sight of him. He was wearing a black coat. The white of his collar was clearly visible in the snowy landscape.
He was startled to see her. "What are you doing here at this hour?" he inquired nonchalantly.
It irked her a little that he asked that. "Are you implying that I should be at home like a good wife?" Oh, shit, where did that come from?
"A good wife?" He repeated, slightly amused. He could swear she was blushing, but the darkness concealed it well. "You're free to go wherever you like. But it is cold and snowy, and it gets quite interesting around here when the wolves start to gather."
Wolves gathered? "Aren't *you* afraid of them?" she asked to hide her own disquiet.
He smiled. He had never been afraid of wolves. "More of bears, actually, but they don't seem to pass around here." He paused. "I had an interesting prayer meeting at a friend's house," he eyed her, "and if you're up to it, I'd like to tell you more about it."
She would probably have made a wiser choice that night if she had walked into the forest where the wolves hauled. But she accepted his offer and walked back to the parsonage with him.
Once inside, he lit the fireplace and brought a bottle of Tuscan wine. The room warmed up and the shadows relaxed the atmosphere. "Lupi Reali Montepulciano d'Abruzzo," he said as he put the bottle on the coffee table. "One the finest red wines of Abruzzo, matured in oak for 12 months. In my humble opinion, that is."
Maybe it was the rich taste of the wine or the Christmas decorations she adorned around the fireplace that afternoon or the talk about visiting loved ones at that time of the year or the fact that Mulder once again wasn't with her, but she allowed herself to ask him questions that probably weren't hers to ask. They were chatting and laughing, talking about faith, history, family and friends, unaware that their bodies grew closer and closer together. The wine was long gone and the fire almost died when he, in a moment of blissful recklessness, put his hand flatly on her thigh and let it rest there a moment too long. The heat of his hand penetrated her skin, eliciting in her a rush of long forgotten excitement. She tried to look as if nothing happened but her psyche screamed inside. She brushed her thigh once his hand was gone and exhaled quietly. He seemed oblivious of his gesture and continued telling his story. But she couldn't get over the feeling that settled in her bones. It was devastating, incisive, burning. She pretended to listen to him, reacting with discreet smiles and nods, while her nerves sang in sweet rebellion.
She tossed and turned in bed that night, seeing his hand on her thigh, feeling again and again how her muscle twitched and warmed at the contact. Her hand slipped to her sex and grazed her mound. The way his body moved and smelled. Jesus, this was madness. She really wanted to stop, but her own hand betrayed her good intentions, pressing and grinding harder against her heated sex. Once, twice, the whole of her hand pressing on that glorious spot, she turned on her belly, pressing into the mattress, three, four, five times, her fingers zeroed in. And she came. Quick, hard and hot. She was breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what happened. Of what she let happen. But her body begged for more. Fuck it, she thought, and rolled on her back. She unbuttoned her pants and slid her hand inside her panties, circling her fingers knowingly around. She imagined him on top of her, pinning her down with his body weight, moving inside her, clutching her hands, kissing her hard. She felt frenzied. What was she doing? Another picture hit her traitorous brain hard. He was taking her from behind now, slowly, confidently, rhythmically. And she came again, her fingers sliding smoothly in and out of her pants. Her body convulsed violently, her muscles spasmed and eyes rolled back in their sockets. She didn't know when was the last time an orgasm made her that drowsy. She breathed hard and tried to regain her senses, feeling embarrassed and conflicted. Later she would tell herself that it was a logical reaction to his attention, mixed with too much wine and not enough self-control.
"I'm not sure you could handle it," she replied, looking at him daringly. She stood up and walked to her purse, standing on a small table adjacent to the wall. She searched for her wallet. "Aren't you hun-?" She didn't get to finish.
He tugged her pants down to her ankles and pressed slowly into her. His naked belly skin touched her bare bottom, making her gasp. He adjusted her hips and was inside her before she could take another breath. She put her hands against the wooden wall, the wallet falling and thudding quietly against the plush carpet, and pushed back into him. Her mouth opened and cringed. The feeling of fullness was all-consuming and too much to bare so suddenly. Her knees gave in and he caught her. He shifted her back on her feet and whispered into her ear, "I know what you want and how you want it, remember?" She groaned loudly at his words. He was in her head. His hands cupped her breasts and his hips thrust into her. He let her lean against the wall again and gyrated his hips into her. "Please," she begged. His hand slid around to her groin and cupped her, his palm and fingers pressing hard into her sex. She moaned and leaned her forehead to the cold wooden wall. She was pliant in his hands, all inhibition gone. "Finish me," she whispered. His eyes grew dark and his hands gripped her crotch firmly. She squeezed shut her eyes and writhed beneath his touch while he pummeled into her. Without warning he turned her around, placed her on the table and nestled himself between her legs. Her hands went around his shoulders and she burried her face in his neck. He murmured soft encouragements into her ear to come as he kept sliding in and out of her. She thought she would explode right there. He transformed her into simple need. Warm and overwhelming. "I'm coming," she whispered back. He gripped her shoulders and pushed her slightly back to look into her eyes. His hands cupped her face, his hips never ending the rhythm, and he stared at her the way Moses stared at the promised land of Canaan. And she dissolved in his arms. He came with her. They breathed against each other, hands fondling and clutching as if to make sure it was all real. She kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth with silent reverence. He tasted of cardamom and musk, earth and spirit. He broke the kiss.
"You look beautiful when you come," he told her, gazing into her eyes.
She cupped his face and gazed back at him, "You make me look that way."
He smiled at her and bent his neck to the side to kiss her fingers. "I'm not sure we'll ever get to that buffet," he said and she laughed.
She tossed away her pants that piled around her ankles. "Neither am I," she replied and pushed him to the bed.
He looked at her beguiled and lost ground, falling on the soft linen sheets. He could glimpse the peak of the Matterhorn as he fell. "You scare me," he blurted out.
She climbed on top of him and gazed at him.
She scared him.
"I love you," she replied, loosing count of how many times she already said it to him. "I never thought I could also scare you." Her eyes clouded.
"I never thought you could love me," he replied and propped himself on his elbows to get closer to her. His right hand rested on her left hip. "But you do. Despite my many faults." He kissed her breast through her shirt. She gasped slightly and leaned forward to kiss him on his lips while his hand roamed her back. They kissed deeply, slowly, passionately. She moaned into his mouth when his hand squeezed her bottom. He groaned in response and shoved his hips into her.
"Jesus," she gasped aloud.
"Don't say the Lord's name in vain," he remarked seriously and she laughed.
"I don't think it's in vain, given the circumstances," she said back and he chuckled.
"I think we should convene the pope," he joked. His fingers slid down her bottom and she squirmed when he grazed her sphincter. "I want to taste you," he growled and pushed her on her back.
She gripped him firmly. Oh, God, was he really going to ...?
Yeah, he was.
He unbuttoned her shirt and kissed his way down her chest and belly. She tried hard not to whimper and wiggle, but then he reached her naked sex and gazed at it as if being transported to another dimension. Her hips bucked on their own while he let one finger spread her folds. She was looking at him hypnotized. He inhaled her scent and adjusted her bottom for better access. He was about to dive in when someone rang at the door.
They both flinched.
"Who is it?" he called out, his voice edgy. No one knew they were here.
"Room service," a young man replied. "Courtesy of the hotel manager."
Scully's eyebrow arched. Nicola got up and put on his jeans. He went downstairs and opened the door with some hesitation. He recognized the young employee from the reception. "Mr Timotheé sends his best regards and wishes you and your lady a nice stay." Nicola tipped him and took the cart in, sending it to the upper floor trough a well-thought shifting mechanism near the stairs. The architect who designed the apartment was clearly very thorough in his projects.
He and his lady.
"Stay there," he commanded when he saw her shift. She slouched back. "I'm not finished with you." His eyes burned into hers. He had total control over her in that moment. Something she never expected to happen. He uncovered the dishes and hummed contentedly. Timotheé knew him well. Roasted duck with apples and onions, tagliatelle with black truffle cream sauce, citrus-poached pears, a variety of cheese and fruits, and in the hidden compartment of the cart two fake passports, two Sirin Finney smartphones, 50.000 euros and two glocks without serial number. Perfect.
He took a strawberry from the tray and covered the rest of the dishes. He walked to the bed and sat beside her. "Spread your legs," he ordered. She swallowed and slowly spread her knees. "You're breathtaking, Dana," he spoke with veneration. He caressed the inside of her thigh and brushed the red fruit against her labia. He dipped it into her folds and then carried to his mouth, taking a bite into it. She watched him with cheeks raging red. He offered her the other half and she accepted, her mouth closing on his fingers as well. Blunt want, that's what it was.
"You really think so, don't you?" he asked as he got rid of his jeans once again. He was standing naked in front of her. Strong and vulnerable, confident and apprehensive.
She looked at him, eyes lost and gone. Answering him seemed like an insurmountable task.
He didn't let himself get distracted. His hands dipped the mattress on either side of her head while he dove between her knees. He looked at her and spoke, "There's a place beneath it all ... beneath the feelings of love and lust, beneath the fear and courage of the heart. Do you want me to take you there?" he asked in a gentle hypnotic voice and nuzzled her neck.
She wasn't sure what he was asking. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. "I can't decide. Not now," she covered her face with her hand. What was happening to her? She was a strong woman with FBI training and years of field experience. A medical doctor even, for Chrissake. A mother. What was she so afraid of?
"Hey," he nudged her hand with his lips. "I'm not saying we should do it now." His body was ready to take her but not for his own pleasure. "Dana?" he softly spoke her name.
She sighed and looked at him. "I don't want to rush things and see us burn away."
He nodded. "I don't want that, either." He bit gently on her lips and let his body fall flatly on her. They both gasped.
She felt his erection against her thigh and her insides clenched. "I didn't say I was against some good old sex, though."
He looked at her amused. "Is that so?" he asked and gently rocked against her. His hand reached below her head cradling it gently while hers rested on his hips. "I love how you move your hips," she said and kissed his neck. He found her other hand and carried it just below the crook of his neck, holding it there in place. "I like the way you feel," he responded in kind and pushed inside her slowly, feeling every inch of her. She moaned loudly and closed her eyes. "Look at me," he demanded, sheathed deeply inside her. She opened her eyes and found his hazel eyes gazing at her. "It will never be just want," he told her and pushed deeper into her. "Oh, my God," she whimpered. He was pressing against her uterus and then she felt him withdraw. Agonizingly slowly. Her mouth dropped open in ecstasy. And he plummeted back into her. "Oh, God, Nicola!" He withdrew again and shoved hard back in. She arched her back and he caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. She screamed, making him loose control and thrust rapidly in and out of her. "Oh, God, Dana," he groaned loudly. His pummeling thrust sent them both over the edge. He collapsed on top of her while her hips still jerked slightly from the thrill of orgasm.
He looked completely spent, his eyes heavy and unfocused, hair ruffled and forehead covered in a thin layer of perspiration. She looked pretty much the same with her disheveled hair, perspiring skin and bee-stung lips. She looked at him, his head resting on her chest. She kissed his fingers, still clutching her own below his neck. He was right. They should be careful with each other in the face of such intensity. He was breathing evenly, unaware that he was still burried inside her.
"Nicola?" she asked.
He barely moved. "Yeah?"
"I have to pee," she replied and tried to stand up, but he was too heavy.
He shifted and let her disentangle. "Sorry."
She brushed his hair lovingly and headed toward the bathroom, losing her shirt as she went. The food smelled heavenly.
She tried no to come again as she sat down on the toiled and peed. It made her blush how over-sensitized her skin was. She looked around. The bathroom was fairly spacious and thoughtfully lit. The shower was made of concrete and accommodated two adults easily.
He walked into the bathroom without knocking. "I'm gonna take a shower." He walked naked past her, oblivious that he caught her on the toilet.
She almost recoiled at the sight of him, feeling terribly embarrassed and vulnerable. "Jesus," she whispered to herself. It took her two months to let Mulder in the bathroom, and he just walked in as if nothing mattered. She heard the shower splash against the concrete floor and sighed.
"You're free to join me," he shouted over the water. Her lips curled up while she pondered his offer. She was washing her hands at the sink and looked in the mirror. What was done was done.
He welcomed her gently as she stepped into the shower, soaping up her body with scents of vanilla, nutmeg and burnt wood. His hands slid everywhere. Her neck, chest and breasts, pinching her nipples, her back and belly, down to her crotch, exploring her sex, in and out, her bottom and intergluteal cleft, her thighs and all the way down to her calf muscles. He was kneeling at her feet, holding her butt. She was ready for anything. His eyes pierced her and in one move he ran his tongue over the length of her sex, spreading it at his will. Her hands clutched his head and her mouth opened in sweet agony. She was losing ground but he held her up, his hands splayed securely over her butt cheeks. He was literally eating her out. She was gasping, moaning, whimpering all at the same time. He sucked hard on her flesh, lapped on it, pressed and gently bit. She was going crazy. Her hands found the nearest wall for support and her hips grinded against his mouth. Shocks of pleasure raked her body until she wailed. Her orgasm hit her like a train she didn't see coming, making him stand up quickly to catch her from falling. She lay limp in his arms. He leaned her gently against the wall and washed her clean. Tears stung her eyes when she watched him. He was attentive, tender. She drew him into a long kiss and hugged him tightly to her. His wet muscles shined in the suffused bathroom light. She reached for the soap and spread it all over his chest and abdomen, admiring his sculpted muscles, and slid down to his organ. He was semi-erect when she felt his length, soaping every inch of him. She made him move around to fondle his firm buttocks, finding her way in between them. He jumped when she caressed his perineum. She smiled to herself and rubbed her fingers there. He leaned his head back into her shoulder and groaned. She ran her hands back up, over his abdomen and to his chest, circling his nipples and ending in his hair. She massages his scalp, neck and shoulders, kissing the shiny soapy skin. He turned and kissed her deeply, his arms circling her shoulders. She responded in kind and pressed into him. Water ran down their bodies, washing away the soap. He let her go and took the shower head to rinse away the remaining soap from both of them.
"You know ... before you walked on me while I was still on the toilet," she said as they towelled each other.
"Yeah, I do," he replied.
She sighed. "I wasn't comfortable."
"Why? We shared each other in almost every possible way. Do you think I would recoil seeing you on the toilet?" he asked.
He had a point. "No, it's just that ... it's extremely intimate," she tried to explain herself.
He looked at her with eyebrows raised. "More intimate than seeing you naked or being burried deep inside you?"
She blushed. Shit. Of course not.
"You're not a fantasy, Dana. You're a real person to me. And a real persons uses the toilet several times a day. But I can respect if that's a boundary for you."
She looked at him with defeated eyes. "You'll be the end of me, Nicola." She looked away and tossed the towel in the sink.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms. "I love you, Dana, on or off the toilet." His lips quirked up. "And most of all when you have your way with me."
She smiled at him and kissed him. "I may have no boundaries left if you keep up this talk."
He smiled and ran his hand over the small of her back and down her bottom. Her toes curled at the sensation. "I don't mind either way," he told her. He caressed her shoulders and handed her the terry cloth.
She followed him out of the bathroom and admired his strong back. He was pouring maleness into the room as he walked. She couldn't get enough of him.
"I can hear you thinking," he warned her and turned back to her.
She flinched and smiled apologetically. "I can't control it, you know that."
He sat down at the small table where the cart stood and uncovered the food. "Come here," he said, "try this."
She sat beside him on the chair and he offered her a mouthful of pasta with black truffle. She tasted the earthiness of the black truffle sauce and closed her eyes. He gazed at her and took a bite himself. "It's good, very good," she murmured and took a fork in her hand. She tasted the duck as well. "How do you know the manager?" she asked him as they ate.
He poured some wine into her glass. "He's a former operative of the Swiss Federal Intelligence Service. We met years ago on a joint mission in Nepal. We spent three weeks together in Tibet. When he got out of the Service a few years ago he settled here in Zermatt and bought this estate. He restructured it into what you see now. He owns the place."
"Does he know about us?" she inquired directly.
He bit the inner side of his mouth. He couldn't lie to her. "Yes. I told him."
"You must trust him," she remarked.
He nodded. "I do. I trust him with my life."
The words resonated within her. She trusted Mulder with her life. "And he owes you for?"
His lips curled slightly. "Am I being interrogated?"
She arched her eyebrow. "Absolutely."
He eyed her back. A glint of something unknown lay at the bottom of his stare. "I saved his life," he explained. "We spent three days in a steep wall of Makalu at about 7,000 meters. He was badly injured and I wouldn't leave him when the helicopter arrived to get me. I helped him get through fevers and hallucinations for two nights. He was lucky to survive."
She gazed at him and put down the fork. "He was lucky to have you." His courage and self-sacrifice, it was why she loved him. "You have a noble spirit, Nicola."
He looked at her with humble eyes. "It was a long time ago. He was my fellow agent in a manner of speaking. And I'm not so sure about the noble part."
She knew he was referring to the two of them. "Do you ever think of what would have been if you didn't choose this life?"
He nodded, knowing full well where she was coming from. "I do, but looking back I'd take the same decisions." He put down his fork, too, and reached for her hands. "I really meant it when I said that I probably wouldn't have met you if at any point of my life I chose differently. I know this is far from ideal," he motioned at the two of them, "but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. And I'm prepared to face the consequences of my decision at any given moment." His eyes spoke of love and sincerity.
She smiled at him and pulled his hands apart to seat in his lap. He smelled of something warm and heady. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said. He nodded slightly. Tears threatened his hazel eyes. She took his hand and kissed the center of his palm, placing it on her chest, and gazed at him. He gazed back captivated.
"My soul will find yours, always," she whispered and placed her own hand over his heart. Tears spilled down his cheek and she kissed them away. The saltiness reminded her of her own trials and pain. Life hadn't spare them. She placed her lips over his, brushing gently. He tightened his hands around her and she licked his upper lip, catching it between her teeth. He let her play with it until he got caught in the dance. He pressed her closer to him and she sighed into his mouth. They kissed without any thought of tomorrow. Desperately, devotedly, intensely. She broke the kiss suddenly and placed a hand over his mouth.
"You're a drug," she said while still panting.
He chuckled happily.
"I'd like to try the poached pears," she said then and looked at the invitingly poached fruits. Smooth and elegant.
He beamed at her and placed another kiss on her lips, "You taste of hope ... and truffles."
She laughed heartily and caressed his cheek, wondering at everything. She sat back on her chair and reached for the poached pears, feeding him one. He returned the favor and brushed her lips, earning a sweet kiss from her.
She smiled then. Secretly.
"What is it?" he asked right away.
"You mean you don't know?" she asked in a surprised tone.
He shook his head. He had no clue.
She slouched back in her chair, her left arm resting casually on the chair back. "You made me come eight times ... in a day."
His eyes widened. He wasn't really counting. "Eight ... times?" he stuttered. He leaned back into his chair, wiping his lips with a napkin.
She eyed him in amusement. "You'll make me feel embarrassed if you don't stop staring at me."
He blushed. And he never blushed. "I'm ... I mean," he paused, "oh, fuck it, I'm not making any sense."
She laughed and rubbed her leg against his.
"I'm really proud of myself right now," he joked and pulled her chair closer to her.
She laughed again and put her legs in his lap.
"So ... eight times, ha?" he asked and ran his fingers over her foot, traveling up her ankle and all the way to her thigh, disrobing her as he went.
She bit her lip.
He smiled at her in that alluring way of his. "Wanna make it nine?"
Her toes curled at the thought. It would be so easy to get lost with him once again but she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was cuddle and get a good night's sleep.
"Yeah, we could do that, too," he agreed. "We'll make it nine tomorrow." He kissed her and grabbed her by the waist. He let the robe fall to the ground and lifted her up in his arms.
She laughed. Joy invaded her soul and he laughed with her.
He placed her on the bed and lay beside her, covering them both with a blanket up to their waists. They were in awe of each other. She gazed at him and he gazed back. Silently, hopefully, lovingly. It wasn't long when they both fell blissfully asleep in each other's arms.
The stars shone brightly in the sky that late August night while they enjoyed their lighthearted slumber and the Matterhorn stood witness to a love that would make jealous the brightest star among them all.
TO BE CONTINUED.
"Lord: may I have due measure in everything ... except in Love."
— Saint Josemaría Escrivá
"Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah"
— Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah
"In one kiss, you'll know everything I haven't said."
— Pablo Neruda