First Time (NC-17)


He finished his sentence before he realized that she had fallen asleep. She was exhausted and he hadn’t been here to help her. Of course she might not have let him help her even if he hadn’t been in England. Probably wouldn’t. He pulled the afghan down and gently placed it over her. She sighed and snuggled down further into the couch.

He smiled down at her for a moment then realized the smile was fading from his lips as he gazed at hers. This other man, this ‘previous’ relationship, she’d never mentioned him before, but tonight she’d wanted to talk – talk to him.

He wanted to kiss her. Shit, he’d allowed the thought to finish forming, but that didn’t mean he could act on it. Well, she hadn’t minded before. In fact she’d seemed to enjoy it. One couldn’t hurt, could it? He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers before he could talk himself out of it.

She responded! She was kissing him back, her lips parted slightly, inviting him in. It was an invitation he could never refuse and his tongue penetrated her mouth, probing, exploring. When he drew back for breath he realized her eyes were open. "Mulder?"

"Do I owe you an apology?"

She shook her head, "I don’t . . . I don’t understand."

"Don’t you?" And watched the color deepen in her cheeks. She did understand and apparently approved, at least she still hadn’t pulled away.

"Is this a mistake Mulder?"

"How can it be, Scully?" His fingers entangled in her hair, drawing her to his lips again and she responded with even more passion, her own hand on his chest, but not pushing him away.

Her blouse had come loose from her skirt and his hand brushed her flesh, increasing his arousal more than he thought possible. He drew back slightly and she used the opportunity to unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse. His hand stopped her and took over the task. Her eyes were mostly closed but he could see that she was watching him. She made no move to stop him, and her blouse landed on the floor beside them.

His eyes were now on the lace that covered her perfect breasts. He watched his hand come up to cup her, his thumb brushing her nipple. It immediately budded into a hard little nub and his eyes smiled.

Still no protest from her. What was she thinking? He felt her hand find his skin under his t-shirt. Well, he could certainly live with that. He drew back slightly and slipped his t-shirt off. Now she was smiling as her hands lightly brushed his nipples with the same results. The doctor in her noted that his breath had become shallow, his eyes dilated.

She took his lower lip into her mouth, suckling it gently. The sensation went directly to his cock, causing him such exquisite pain he felt lightheaded. Then her fingers were at his fly, undoing the button and slowly, carefully, lowering his zipper.

Her hands tugged at his jeans as he raised his hips slightly to aid her, then his boxers. Her own breath grew shallow. His body was no mystery to her but she’d never seen him in this proportion. And she was on her knees in front of him.

His first reaction was one of protest, this should be him, giving her pleasure but then her tongue darted out and laved the straining head of his shaft and he was lost. Those lips, Dana Scully’s lips, encompassing him! Now her teeth were in play, gently biting, torturing the sensitive flesh then carefully sheathed in those lips again. Sucking him, trying to kill him – where had she learned that? He felt a instant of regret that he had not taught her these incredible moves, but they were adults, they had both known other people – just not like they knew each other.

Oh god, he was close. No! No, their first time together was not going to end this quickly. It took all of his will power but he managed to take her shoulders in his hands and bring her up to him. "Mulder, please."

"It’s my turn." It was only a growl but she understood the words somehow. And it was a command, but for some reason that didn’t bother her.

Her skirt joined his jeans and his fingers were tracing the lace at the top of her panties. She was watching him, allowing him whatever he wanted. What he wanted was her. His fingers had no trouble with the clasp of her bra and her eyebrow rose at the dexterity of this ability. He smiled and took her nipple in his mouth to torture her as she had him. Her hand was in his hair, clutching it involuntarily as pleasure overtook her. Now the other breast – he felt as though he could make love to this woman forever.

He moved down her body, licking, kissing, nibbling his way to her navel. As his tongue probed and explored it she moaned and managed to release his hair as she writhed beneath him.

Those panties were still in his way, and he carefully removed the damp silk from her body and glanced up at her once more for permission. Her eyes were watching him, taking in his face, his eyes, wanting him more with each passing second.

He blew across her damp curls and she gasped, arching slightly to move closer to him. He couldn’t help but smile, she wanted this, she wanted him! Then his tongue was exploring her folds and he could no longer literally interpret the sounds she was making, except one, "Mullllder."

She was close, she was so close she thought she’d die from it.

He understood and gave in, ceasing the torture, giving her what she was begging for. His tongue found her clit and applied that exquisite pressure to it. She bucked beneath him, her body spasming with her release. She closed her eyes and he had her in his arms, "Scully, look at me!" Her eyes flew open at his command and locked on his. He watched the surrender of control to him.

It was safe; she was safe in his arms. It was all right to be this free. His fingers continued where his tongue had left off and her orgasm racked her body. In his arms, she was safe in his arms.

He held her as she came back to herself, watching her, committing every sound, every movement to a sacred place in his memory to be held forever. Finally she managed to smile up at him. "We’re not through here."

"We could . . . shouldn’t we move to the bedroom?" He could barely speak.

She nuzzled his neck. "Next time."

Those words – a part of him he had forgotten was broken healed at those two words. This wasn’t a one-time thing. They were together, like they always should have been, like they always had been.

She had his cock in her hands now and he returned control to her, allowing her to guide him to her core. Oh yes, oh god yes! He wanted her so badly he ached, but he managed to enter her slowly, giving her time to accommodate him, encompass him. Now he was above her, his shaft sheathed in her. He stopped to give himself time, he wanted this to last forever but she was impatient now moving beneath him. He withdrew and she arched to fill herself again. So it was going to be like that – he saw the smile, a woman’s smile, Scully’s smile and thrust into her again and again and again. She was with him for each stroke, almost prescient in her knowledge of what he wanted, what he needed from her. Who would have thought that the Ice Queen could do this to him?

Oh god he was close, but he wanted her with him. His fingers came into play again and she lost the rhythm as her eyes flew open and once again she was coming in his arms. That took the last illusion of his dominion from him and his own release rocked him as he gasped out her name. Damn, he was going to come forever, die here in her arms.

She recovered first and held his shuddering body in her arms. It was such an incredible feeling to have this man completely at her mercy and know that the same was true of him.


"Shh. Rest love. I’m right here." His eyes closed, obeying her. ‘You find yourself lying helpless in her arms.’ Yes, helpless and safe. He pulled her closer and surrendered his consciousness.


She woke slowly, where . . .? Mulder’s bed, and Mulder beside her. It wasn’t a dream, they had . . . her face flamed at the memory even with no one to see.

How many times had they come together, feasted from each other’s bodies? She remembered him carrying her into this room. Then releasing her legs, allowing her to body to slide over his as they stood beside his bed. Then she was impaled atop him and his hands steadied her, guided her as she rode him to oblivion.

She’d never been so wanton. She’d come before with a man, occasionally, but never like last night – over and over. But then she’d never trusted a man like she did this one. Never trusted herself with a man like this.

But they couldn’t – they worked together. They had to be professional, detached. Could she do that now? Oh god, what had she, what had they done?

She eased out of the bed being careful not to disturb him. She slipped into his bathroom with her clothes and dressed quickly. He hadn’t woken when she emerged and she moved silently to the door. She looked back once to admire the long lean thigh that was exposed to her, then shook her head and left the room.

She had her hand on the knob to the apartment door when she stopped. If she ran, what would he think? She shook her head, he would think that she regretted . . . that she was running from him. That wasn’t it. She was running from herself, from the sensations he had created in her body last night – sensations she had only imagined her body was capable of.

But she had to get out of here, she needed to think. She spotted his notepad beside the phone. A note, yes, but what should she write? Of course – she quickly penned the note and left his apartment.


He reached for her, thoughts of Scully, Scully’s body uppermost in his mind. She wasn’t there. He sat up and looked around, the bathroom door was open, and her clothes weren’t . . . where was she? She hadn’t left? He was out of bed now, his nudity ignored as he checked the apartment. She had left; she was gone without a word. What had he done? What was he going to do? Had he ruined everything between them? Had he forced her into this? Oh god. He ran a trembling hand over his face as he turned and spotted the note stuck to his door.

"Until next time – S"

He grabbed the back of the chair nearest him, his knees buckling. Next time – yes, next time.