Scully stood on a dark state road, drenched and cold, looking at her partner in disbelief. He was practically giddy from the unexplained car trouble, insisting that they had just lost nine minutes of time. The impossibility of his claim still stood firmly and resolutely in her mind, but his enthusiasm was infectious, and she could feel it permeate somewhere deep inside her like it was warding off the chill trying to settle into her bones. Not just the chill from the freezing rain, but the uneasy feeling of being out of her depth. Nothing on this case was making sense. She knew working on the X-Files would be challenging, but she hadn't expected to hit so many hurdles and so many that defied scientific explanation.

What they had uncovered in their investigation were just more questions. In the back of her mind, Scully doubted herself. How can she best apply her abilities and her knowledge to these fantastical findings? She feared that her role would become the "science" part of the science fiction department of the FBI, and she would probably end up a bigger joke within the Bureau than Spooky Mulder. These insecurities, though somewhat assuaged by her own determination and tenacity, were proving to be put to rest the more time she spent with Agent Mulder. His passion—which was borderline obsession—she was coming to find, was ultimately a search for the truth.

I want the truth, she had told him, and he had given her his belief in what that truth was. Obviously, she didn't agree with him, but she respected him—even admired his steadfastness because it mirrored her own deep convictions in science. Even though she would bat down each insane theory he threw at her with sensible justifications, she couldn't help but entertain them to some degree. There was something logical about his illogicality, and this very much intrigued her.

"No, wait a minute. You're saying that, that time disappeared. Time can't just disappear. It's, it's, it's a universal invariant!" Scully hollered over the roar of the rain and the ridiculousness of his assertion.

He grinned at her—a grin that stirred within her something more than just the casual curiosity she had been harboring. "Not in this zip code," Mulder replied.

His response did not explain the missing time, nor did it explain why Scully lunged at Mulder, wrapping her arms around his neck, her wet lips finding his through the downpour. Chalk it up to yet another unexplained phenomena, she thought.

His hands went to her waist instinctively, and he kissed her back; although he could not explain what was happening either. All he knew was that he no longer felt cold, and he no longer felt alone. She may oppose him on every theory he had, but she had never mocked him. And although it was still so early in their partnership, he sensed—no, he knew—that she never would. Harmless teasing sure, but he did that, too. In fact, he was enjoying that aspect—a little too much actually, if he allowed himself to think about it hard enough.

When she felt him respond to her, not just with his lips, but with his body, she opened her mouth, slipping her tongue inside his. His arms encircled her tighter as he reciprocated, invading the hot cavern of her mouth with his own tongue and heavy breaths. They kissed deeply and frantically at length, mapping out the insides of each other's mouths like there was evidence to be found there. Maybe there was; evidence of this undeniable connection, this spark that was quickly turning into a flame—no, a forest fire.

Scully pulled back, out of breath and with a wild, confused look on her face. "I don't know what-"

"I don't either," Mulder agreed feverishly, and hugged her back into an urgent embrace, pressing his lips against hers again. It had felt so good to connect with someone after such a long time of being misunderstood and dismissed outright. Scully took him seriously from the get-go, and that endeared her to him even if he had suspected she was a spy. She had steadily chipped away at those suspicions already, and he even considered trusting her. Bonding on a physical level, a lustful level, was an unexpected bonus; the possibility of which he had detected slightly, but refused to lend credence to in an effort to not get his hopes up.

Scully felt wetness gather in a place that was not from the rain. Her pussy throbbed with her desire. She felt feral—her sexual impulses were more intense than they had ever been. Never mind the ramifications of intimately consorting with a fellow agent on the job, she wanted Fox Mulder inside her. She wanted it as badly as she wanted to solve this case. Scully thrusted her pelvis into Mulder, and she felt his hardness there. More moisture gushed between her thighs.

Mulder grunted at the sudden contact against his straining erection. He ached for more; to feel her skin, the soft flesh of her breasts, the heat at her core.

"Mulder," she said desperately, almost whining. He heard it, clear as a bell, even though the deluge was loud and the rush of blood in his ears was thundering. He understood the need in her tone.

He tossed his head towards the car whose headlights were pointed right at them, illuminating their amorous earnestness. "Back seat," he yelled.

She nodded and they both ran over to the passenger side of the car, Mulder holding the door open for Scully. He scrambled in after her into a frenzy of removing soaking jackets and peeling off pants that were clinging wetly to their legs. Mulder pulled out a condom from his wallet. He leaned towards the window to try to read the expiration date with the aid of the moonlight, hoping he was within the time frame.

Scully, who was unbuttoning her shirt, stopped to watch him. She tried to stop her grin from widening too much, but the sight of him taking the time to check the date was too adorable. He turned to look at her, triumphant. "We're good."

Scully stifled a laugh. "Thank God," she said.

Mulder rolled the latex over his sensitive penis, groaning at his own touch and at the anticipation of soon being inside her. Scully was able to shed all her clothes save her basic satin bra. She climbed into his lap, and using her hand to guide him in, lowered herself onto his cock. They both gasped, and then Scully descended on his mouth, sucking hungrily at his lips as she began to ride him.

"Oooh, Scully," he moaned. "Feels so good. You're so tight."

Hearing him say something so erotic was quite the change from the crackpot conspiracies and dorky jokes, and it made her quicken her movements—the rush of desire buzzing through her body right to her core. She mewled in response, vocalizing her pleasure. Mulder reached between them and pulled down the cups of her bra, roughly playing with her nipples between his fingertips.

"Uuunhhh," she cried out. She could feel her orgasm building, and she could tell it would be intense. He was doing everything right. The way he pushed his hips up into her at just the right pace, his hands on her breasts, what he said and the sensual sounds that rushed past his lips. "Fuck," she breathed out, amazed by how good he was making her feel.

He felt she was close so he abandoned her tits to grip her ass cheeks for leverage as he thrust up into her harder and faster. He nuzzled under her chin, darting his tongue out to taste the salty skin at her throat. She tilted her head down so she could capture his soft lips again. Scully wanted her mouth on his when she came; she wanted to fill him with her tongue and exhales of ecstasy just as he filled her with his hot, hard cock.

Her walls spasmed around his length, and her invasion of his mouth in addition to that gripping flutter made him come, too. He grunted her surname against her mouth; it dissolved like sugar on her lips.

They stayed that way, passing heavy breaths between them; Scully slowly grinding against him to prolong the pleasurable feeling as his dick began to soften inside her. Mulder finally leaned back against the seat. He looked at Scully. Her face was flushed, lips parted sensuously, and her eyes that gazed back at him with a contradictory mix of sated sleepiness and stunned elation. Her bra was still wedged under her boobs, her rosy nipples still perked. A drop of water from her ponytail fell on his thigh, cool against his warm skin.

Mulder brought his wrist up to look at his watch. "Made up for those nine minutes," he joked.

"And then some," Scully added.