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He found her eyes in the two-way mirror. How? How had he done that? Dana Scully returned the look knowing, without a doubt, that her partner would feel it.

 

This connection between them had been building, and its intensity, while it alarmed her, was thrilling. They had gotten back from Oregon yesterday, and as soon as they parted ways at the airport, Scully felt like she was waking up from a dream. Running around the woods with Mulder, entertaining his wild theories, listening to his ghost story by candlelight—she had been in a fantasy land. Her body had instantly gone cold, thinking that this bond they had shared had been imagined, concocted in her brain alongside the absurdities that he put up against her scientific logic.

 

She had felt this loss deeply, and admonished herself on the drive home for not only getting caught up in his flights of fancy but for inventing some kind of special partnership between them. Lust and desire had maintained a residence in the back of her mind since they had met. She had promptly put it in check, writing it off that it was just because Mulder was good-looking, but then a thousand little things happened that indicated that the draw was much more than just a basic attraction.

 

This morning, Scully was still questioning their unique rapport just like she had questioned Mulder’s beliefs. It wasn’t until his eyes burned a hole through the glass and into her soul that it hit her that it had all been real—her feelings and the depth of those feelings were true, and if he felt even a sliver of what she felt (which by the way he looked at her, piercing and exacting, just through the power of their proximity, indicated as much), then their connection was real, too.

 

When their eyes met, impossibly through the partition, it sparked something in Scully—it sparked what she had dismissed as fantasy into sharp reality, and she felt it in her core. Conduction, thermal energy, happening on a metaphysical level. Scully tried to put it in terms she could understand, but she knew, deep down, this was beyond the realm of science; she was experiencing a phenomenon much like what she had been assigned to debunk.

 

She couldn’t debunk this, though, and she didn’t want to.

 

Scully reluctantly followed the men out of the room, not wanting to lose the warmth from Mulder’s gaze after hearing the chilling testimony of the hypnotized Billy Miles. All through the meeting with Blevins that followed, a low hum of nervous energy whirred inside her—that gut-punch feeling of meeting Mulder’s eyes through the glass reverberating throughout her entire being. Her body felt the itch to get back down to that basement office; she needed to be in his presence again—the pull was that strong.

 

“Agent Mulder believes we are not alone.”

 

If they were looking for her to say something with which they could condemn him or shut down his campaign to further investigate the paranormal, they would not find that in her. At their first meeting, they had vaguely implied it but had not admitted their intentions when she questioned them. It was clear to her now that these higher-ups would be an obstacle in Mulder’s search for the truth. “Agent Mulder believes we are not alone” was all she would give them, and she silently pledged to her new partner that he would not be alone in that search.      

 

When she entered Mulder’s office, she found him sitting in his chair staring at a poster with a UFO on it. “I Want To Believe,” the poster lamented, and Mulder’s posture and the air about him exuded the same desire. He knew she was there, probably by the sound of her heels on the floor, but maybe he knew in another way, a deeper way, that her presence was more than just physical, that her commitment to him as his partner went beyond the simple terms stated in the Bureau handbook.

 

“What did Blevins say?” asked Mulder, still facing away from her.

 

“He’s not satisfied with Billy’s testimony or the lack of physical evidence. I gave him the implant.”

 

Mulder turned in his chair. “Are you going to be reassigned?” There was a hint of fearful worry in his voice.

 

“I don’t think so, no.”

 

He nodded, a thoughtful pout on his lips. Scully thought she saw his shoulders deflate; she didn’t know if it was out of relief or disappointment—she hoped it was the former.

 

“What’s our next step?” asked Scully.

 

Mulder’s eyes lit up at her use of “our.” He stood up, rounding the desk to stand in front of her. “We,” he said, underscoring the word with his tone, “we can follow up with the on-going case with the D.A.’s office and with Billy and his family, but apart from that, it’s on to the next one.”

 

“Do you have something?”

 

“Oh Scully, I have my irons in so many fires.”

 

No shit, Scully thought, stoking a fire inside of me, that’s for sure.

 

He watched her lips part, almost sensuously, at his comment. Mulder hadn’t intended to use the idiom as innuendo, but maybe he had subconsciously. He was thrilled that she was staying on as his partner. They had worked so well together. The way she made him fight to prove his theories was exhilarating. He had been so sure he would find it frustrating, but their back and forth had become a tantalizing exercise that excited him. It got him more excited about the work, and it got him excited about her.

 

Scully noticed that his gaze was set on her mouth, and she licked her lips nervously. After a moment of this heated silence, he looked up at her eyes. “Thank you for backing me up with the hypnosis. I know you have your doubts about it, but your support made them, at least, humor me. Your science background gives the X-Files some credibility, and I appreciate that.”

 

Scully started to smile bashfully, but then the corners of her mouth turned downward. “I hope I can bring more to the table than just some credibility.”

 

“Oh, you already have, Scully,” Mulder quickly assured her. “So much more.”

 

Her eyebrows went up, questioning but believing. His expression became firm in an attempt to convey his sincerity. They leaned toward each other with magnetized-like movements, little hesitant twitches bringing their faces closer together. Then they both gave up holding back and their lips met with purpose. Mulder’s hands went to Scully’s hips, lightly resting there, and Scully reached up to cup his cheeks. They kept moving in sync—mirrored gestures; they opened their mouths to each other, tongues spilling past their lips. A moan sounded in the room, echo-like, the source unclear, but probably a mix of both their lustful sighs.

 

They pulled apart only to remove their jackets, then their hands busied with the buttons of each other’s shirts, lips meeting again as soon as they could get their hands on bare skin. Scully wobbled a little; she was on her tiptoes and rapidly becoming lightheaded. Mulder circled his arms securely around her waist, steadying her and bringing her in tighter to him. He started to shuffle back toward the desk; Scully mumbled against his mouth, breathy and unconvincing, “We shouldn’t.”

 

Mulder nodded. “It’s not a good idea,” he agreed at the same time reaching behind him and sweeping his arm in an arc, sending everything on the desk crashing to the floor. He spun her around, pressing her against the desk. Her hands immediately went to his belt, deftly unbuckling it and undoing the closure of his slacks.

 

He cupped her breasts over her bra, looking down to see if it was the same one he had seen in his candlelit motel room when she had come to him and dropped her robe. It was different—sheer, pale pink lace that gave a hint of her rosy, hardened nipples. He ran his thumbs over them, eliciting a whimper from her, then he lifted her under her arms and sat her down on top of the desk.

 

Oh God, I want this.

 

It wasn’t until Mulder responded, “Me too,” that Scully realized she had verbalized that thought...or had he read her mind? At this point, she was apt to believe that he had that ability with her.

 

Scully shimmied her skirt up to her waist and Mulder shifted to stand in between her parted legs, running his hands up her thighs. They both cursed the existence of pantyhose in their minds, simultaneously. Then Scully, anticipating their mutual frustration, said, “Just rip them.”

 

“Really?” Mulder breathed hotly against her neck.

 

“I don’t fucking care,” said Scully as her hand went down to stroke the bulge tenting his boxers.

 

“Uunph,” Mulder grunted when she made contact, jerking his hips into her. He pawed frantically at the crotch of her nylons, pinching the gauzy fabric so he could tear it. When he finally did, it made a loud ripping sound and Scully gasped, following it up with a sensuous mewl that fell richly decadent on his ears. “Oh Scully,” he sighed.

 

They both helped to push his boxers down his thighs, then with Scully holding his cock and Mulder pulling her panties aside, they guided him to her entrance. His hands went to her ass and he scooted her to the edge of the desk, thrusting into her. The quick, whetted movement pushed him, rough and deep, inside her, and she cried out.

 

Mulder began pumping in and out, his grip on her hips becoming bruising as he built them both toward climax. Scully had leaned back, her hands behind her for support and for leverage as she rocked against him in perfect time with his thrusts. This gave Mulder an erotic view of his partner—the flushed chest, her lace-covered tits bouncing rhythmically, and her face that showed the euphoria she was feeling across her delicate features.

 

Looking at her like this was like looking directly at the sun; he felt his balls tighten and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted her to come first, but he wasn’t sure he could manage it. She was all primal sexuality and passion he never would’ve guessed was under her professional armor, and she trusted him enough to show him it. Mulder was grateful for their partnership, their instant connection, and for the honor of seeing this side of her that he suspected very few got to see.

 

He felt a constriction in his chest as these profoundly emotional feelings flooded his soul and he neared a physical release. Then there was warmth on the place above his heart; he opened his eyes to see that Scully had placed her hand on his chest. They looked at each other and Scully nodded, seeming to affirm that she felt it, too.

 

Then her head fell back and she moaned, “Yesss, Mulderrr, yesss!”

 

Her walls clamped down on him and he feverishly sent the signal from his lust-filled brain to his cock that he could let go now. Mulder gritted his teeth and grunted as he came. He felt faint as her pussy continued to pulse and undulate around his length, and he leaned forward with his hands on the desk.

 

“Fuck, that was intense,” he said before he could stop himself.

 

“Yeah,” Scully breathed out in agreement.

 

He noticed her downcast eyes and sensed she was afraid to look at him now. He tipped her chin up with his finger and then placed a kiss on her forehead. He felt her body ease against him and she rested her cheek on his chest. Scully could hear the comforting thud of Mulder’s heartbeat, and she smiled.