As soon as it seemed doable on his one-sure-foot-only condition, Mulder cautiously crossed the stream, invited by the other side of the banks with its promise of a smoother path along the water and displaying paradisiac vegetation.
Soon, the dense scenery and the rich sensual ambience heightened his mood and pace, and, feeling stronger, Mulder started to yell to the greenery and every five steps: 'SCULLLAAYYY!'
His voice wasn't as fierce as he would want, but shouting so many Scullys out loud as if he was the one in charge of rescuing the other one made Mulder become oblivious of his still miserable state.
Except for one thing.
Every nine steps, his stomach grumbled. Louder and louder.
Still, nature and biology were insidiously taking hold of his nervous system, sharpening his sensitive nose cells and turning him into a Fox hunting for food —you couldn't even rule out a long lasting effect of the magical leaves he had eaten so many hours ago.
That was why a sweet but strong smell made Mulder leave the banks and dive into the bushes, leading him right in front of a magnificent short tree, its branches full of appetizing shining apples.
Mulder grabbed one of the biggest on a lower branch, already salivating over its plumpy shape, fruity smell and gorgeous color —a reddish-orange shade that reminded him of Scully's hair.
Scully…
A red flag stopped him as his hand was already bringing the fruit to his mouth.
Mulder dug out his Leatherman from one of his coat's pockets then cut the tantalizing apple in half, a sticky juice soaking his hands as a result.
Obviously it wasn't an apple and it wasn't anything he could put a name on it either.
What would M.D. Scully do? Prone abstinence, surely.
Ever a man following his instincts, Mulder closed his eyes, sniffed in the strong flavor pouring out the fruity flesh, then put the tip of his tongue on its thick juice.
Immediately he moaned, his sensitive buds blown away, thrills running all over his body.
Whatever… If my brain must die of an incurable disease, let's shoot it first with bullets of pure ecstasy.
Mulder bit hungrily in the golden apple, heavenly savors exploding in his mouth on each chew. And, as much as he had been starving, he didn't even wolf down the miraculous fruit, taking time to dive into its startling flavors. Then, when all its flesh had been swallowed, he meticulously licked his hands and fingers, not wanting to miss any drops of its ambrosial juice.
Mulder's stomach let out a satisfied belch as well as a pang, already wanting more; more of this orgasmic feast.
Mulder's reason hesitated for a few seconds, pondering choices. Poison was a matter of quantity, yet his muscles needed strength.
Mulder was weak, maybe —especially when fixing his oral needs— but who would blame him for not seizing the moment and the given fruits?