Six Degrees of Requiem

Insatiable

Disclaimer: It's been awhile since I updated. In that time, I haven't suddenly become the proud owner of The X-Files. For that reason, I'd like to mention that there is no infringement intended.

Rating: I reckon this would be classed as an M rated chapter.

Spoilers: This chapter is a post-ep for Je Souhaite but anything from 'all things' onward is possible.

Author's Notes: Don't forget to review! It's been such awhile since I updated this!

We build our church above the street.

We practice love between these sheets

"You ready?" Jen asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Was he? There were a million things in life that he wanted to wish for – if he had an infinite number of wishes. How nice it would have been, to have all of life's desires with a single request.

"Where will you go, after I make my finish wish? Will you just… disappear?" Jen rolled her head back, apparently bored with the conversation. He supposed she had been asked the same questions many times from the sixteenth century.

"I go wherever my rug is. Where is that, by the way? Is it some smelly evidence room? I've been there before and boy, it isn't fun." Mulder stood, pacing the floor of his office in ways he had done so many times before. Jen crossed her arms again, touching her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. "Any chance?" she asked, gesturing to the clock on the wall. Mulder stopped.

"Okay," he said at last.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mulder hated evidence rooms. It took forever to find what you were looking for and when you did, it was sealed in so much plastic that it took another twenty minutes just to get into it.

Today though, luck must have been on his side, for he found Jenn's rug without any difficulties, and it was wrapped in only one rug bag propped against the wall.

Unwrapping her, Jenn lay on the floor, her silvery eyes watching him with unmasked contempt. "You have had your three wishes," she snapped, getting to her feet. "You can't have anymore."

"Yes I can. I unwrapped you again. It's not m fault I'm just incredibly lucky, is it? Besides," he said softly, "I only want one more." Jenn strode towards the door, and he knew he would inevitably get what he wanted. If he had been wrong, Jenn would never have been allowed to leave her rug. "You'll like this one," he promised.

"I doubt it," she retorted and he sighed.

"I have to meet Scully in an hour… please…?" He hadn't touched her in over a week, and as the hours ticked by, his need for her deepened. Not even a genie would deter him tonight. "Okay, I'm going to make a wish now. I have plans. I wish that, subsequent to this wish being granted that you will never have to grant another wish again. That you will be released from the spell cast upon you and that you should become human. Twenty first century human, too, not some decrepit sixteenth century French woman." Jen stood still for a long time, her silver eyes glittering like liquid aluminium. Mulder held his breath, wondering if he forgot to mention something that would allow Jen to read between the lines. Somehow though, he imagined she'd be happy enough to take this wish at face value.

"Really?" she asked, her voice not altogether strong. "Four and a half centuries and no one has ever wished for this…" Mulder shrugged.

"I told you that you'd like it. Now would you just grant it so I can go home?" Nodding softly, with less determination than usual, Jen smiled.

"This is the last wish I will ever grant." After a long pause, she grinned. "Done." As if, in an instant, something changed around her, Jen looked altogether human. Her eyes shifted to an artic clear blue and when she pressed her fingertip to the corner of her eye the Mark of the Jinn was gone and her skin was smooth. "You freed me." Rubbing his hands together, Mulder grinned.

"Excellent! Now I can go." Striding across the room to the door, he paused. "Actually, I'd better escort you out of the building. Don't want you getting arrested on your first day of being human." Jen pulled her lip between her teeth, her cocky arrogance gone. Now, she was just a woman. "Follow me."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

All week, he had watched her and cursed his lack of professionalism. Each time she tapped her pencil against her lips, he imagined kissing her, imagined her kisses all over his body. It had been a living hell, not having her. Not showing her how much he loved her.

Now, as those lips drank from a bottle of beer, he was no longer interested in watching Caddyshack. Not that he ever really was. Watching movies, he knew, was their new code for sex. When he glanced sideways at her, studying her lovely features in profile, he thought about Jen and what she had said.

'I'd wish that I could live my life, moment by moment, enjoying it for what it is instead of worrying about what it isn't.'

Reaching out, he took Scully's hand, stroking her knuckles. His gesture drew her gaze away from the television towards him, her brow furrowed in an endearing frown. "I'm not going to worry about this ending," he said, drawing her hand to his lips, tracing an almost non-existent kiss along her silken skin. "Life is what it is, right?" Her eyebrows arched, her eyes widened, but she didn't reply. "I have missed you so much this week…" Mulder added, his fingers moving over her wrist.

"Yeah…" Scully whispered, turning her body towards him, encouraging his tentative touch. "Me too." Leaning into her, he slid his fingers into her hair, stroking her scalp, their mouths inches apart. He could smell the beer on her breath and it intoxicated him more than if he had been drinking it himself. Warm love radiated from her body in pulsing waves and when he cupped the back of her neck, urging her close, she came willingly, their lips meeting as if of their own accord.

How many times had they made love on this sofa? he wondered. How often had she cried out his name in the heat of pleasure?

Lying back against the weathered black leather, her hair a vibrant russet fan against the darkness, she was ethereal in her beauty and each time he looked into the liquid blue depths of her eyes, he remembered why he loved her. He saw his past, each moment of terror they had shared together and he saw themselves cemented together.

Her fingers touched his cheek, her lips moist and parted. Leaning down to kiss her, his heart surged when she arched her back and met him half way, apparently as greedy as he. For tonight, he knew, his apartment would be a place of divine worship and Dana Scully would be the goddess he intended to spend hours adoring.

Slipping his fingers beneath the white blouse she wore, he found her breast and urged her nipple into a turgid point. Her lips parted, welcoming his tongue and as he stroked the recesses of her mouth, she moaned deeply, her hips brushing his erection as he knelt over her. Scully parted her thighs, cradling him against her apex, her nails digging, almost painfully, into his neck.

His thumb drew erratic circles over her nipple as he pulled the lacy cup away from her breast, her flesh moulding into the curvature of his hand. She seemed to fit. In every way possible, Dana Scully fit. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. But it seemed almost trivial. Surely she knew. He touched her in ways he had never touched another woman. In ways he had never wanted to touch another.

Slipping her blouse over her head, he watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she watched him beneath lidded eyes. Her cheeks, dusky with raging desire, were soft when he pressed a soft kiss there. A delicate sigh escaped her lips and her palms moved over his back, his muscles seemingly manipulated by her touch.

"Tell me what you wished for," she breathed in his ear, a tremble coursing through his body when she did.

"You'll find out," he promised, hoping that she really would. For if Jen had not granted his third wish, he would have no way of rectifying the hurt it would cause – especially since Scully was so sceptical.

There is a racing inside my heart

And I am barely touching you…

Willing away the demons of his own doubt, he dropped his mouth to hers again, and any lingering questions she might have had, were erased with the intensity of his kiss. He knew it was his ultimate weapon, and tonight, he intended to use it to his full advantage. He wanted her to forget that she'd ever felt hurt before.

His fingers slid beneath the waist of her pants, finding her moist core quickly – he was an expert at touching her now. She whispered his name, and he smiled against her lips, his thumb stroking her, urging her desire into a tight, coiling spring. Her arousal was his, and as his circles intensified, he wanted nothing more than to be inside her. Where he'd wanted to be all week. Work was their lent, so to speak, and when their professional lives took precedence, sex was off the menu.

Touching the tip of his tongue to her pulse, he felt her inhale, a rattling breath that he'd come to associate with her excitement. Her hands helped him to undress, her dexterous little doctor fingers unzipping his jeans in record time. With each breath she took, her breasts rose and touched his chest, her little nipples hard. Remembering how they tasted to his tongue, he pressed his lips together around the bud, the tip of his tongue touching her pebbled nipple, her puckered flesh easily manipulated by him.

Naked now, he spread her legs further, nudging her entrance with the tip of his penis.

We move together up and down

We levitate, our bodies soar

Our feet don't even touch the floor

She met him, stroke for stroke, her lips murmuring her approval, breathless and coarse; the sounds she made brought his arousal to a dizzying height. He felt her cool hands move over his back, stroking the muscles of his body. He had never wanted anyone in his life as much as he wanted her. Nor had he ever loved so much.

Being inside her wasn't just sex. It could not ever be. She had been his sanity, the voice of reason, friend and kindness for so many years. Looking into the maelstrom of blue that were her eyes, he saw a reflection of his own feelings and it was this, not her naked body that brought him to climax. Around his penis, she shuddered, her walls turning to liquid molten.

Sated and tired, he fell over her, breathless. Her fingers laced through the damp strands of his dark hair, shorter now than in earlier years. His breath fanned over the swell of her breast, tightening her nipple again. He could feel her breath on his forehead and the sensation was oddly arousing, even though he could not possibly had needed sex again. Despite this, his penis stirred against her thigh and he felt, rather than saw, a smile grace her lovely lips.

"Scully I-" he had never voiced it. Except once, in a drug-induced haze.

"Shush," she whispered back, her fingers stilling momentarily in his hair. "I know." Closing his eyes, listening to heart beat, he suspected that she did know. That she had always known. Silent understanding was the epitome of their relationship – a bond that was as unique as it was bizarre. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of her breast, he held her closer. Everything was perfect.

There are no words,

There's only truth…

This show is the love of my life.