DISCLAIMER JAZZ: "The X-Files" and its characters are the creations and property of the fabled Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. I am, of course, using them without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. All other concepts or ideas herein are mine. RATING: NC-17 SPOILERS: Through US season 7 ARCHIVE: ONLY ON THE AUTHOR'S OWN WEBSITE (http://rowan_d.tripod.com/elizabethr.html) UNTIL STORY IS COMPLETED. This way I can mess with the early parts as later parts develop... TIMELINE: Though this takes place sometime after "all things", in this universe "Requiem" did NOT happen... AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm in the process of detaching my Real Life from my Net Life, and I'm attempting the messy process of changing my pen name. All future installments will be posted under the name "Elizabeth Rowandale". The website has also moved to the address listed above. If this causes anyone any trouble at all, please write me and I'll do my best to help out. NC-17 stuff ahead...no kiddies allowed.:) WATER'S EDGE by Elizabeth Rowandale (aka Elizabeth Boyd-Tran) Copyright (c) 2002 Chapter 10c "If I remember you right, and if you haven't grown so far away from then, I love you still." --Betty Buckley, "If I Remember You Right" She was like a fantastical mirage lain across the landscape of his four poster bed, enlivening the stagnant air with her very presence in a room that had gone too long without the scent of a woman. Her silken gown had been unzipped and slipped down to hover at the curve of her hips. The black lace of her strapless bra lay in stark contrast to the pale white of her skin, light and shadow accentuated by the soft light in the room. Her auburn hair spread luxuriously over his pillows, leaving traces of her on each of his possessions she touched. Daniel knelt on the carpet beside the bed (only mildly conscious of the Sig Sauer on the bedside table), lowering himself to her level, but hovering just this little bit apart, drinking in the vision of her before the sensations of touch took away such finer sensitivities. Dana watched him in silence as he moved; she seemed to have used up her words for now, was relating to him in silent touches and gestures. He reached out and gently brushed an unruly fringe of hair from the corner of her lips. No woman had ever affected him like Dana Scully. Every aspect of her physicality was deeply erotic for him. The way she moved, the way she breathed, the way her fingers floated over a computer keyboard; the way her gold cross dangled alluringly toward her cleavage, tempting the eye, pulling at the groin. Her femininity could not be escaped. And through it all she remained a quiet and distant mystery to most of the world. Somehow, he had been lucky enough--for the second time in a single life--to be given the privilege of being invited behind her closed doors. Being so close made him nearly blind with the need to be against her skin, around her, inside her, tasting and smelling, drowning. But he couldn't give in yet, refused to give up the magic of this moment too soon. To his infinite pleasure, Dana seemed to be nurturing an equal need. Her hand moved out, reaching with the instinct of a child, unable to keep her fingers off of his skin. She pulled his hand to her mouth, kissed the thin, sensitive skin at the center of his palm, drew her tongue luxuriously up its length. Dana Scully had always been markedly oral in orientation, a trait no man could ever oppose. He remembered in a dizzying flash an afternoon long long ago when he had barely heard the words of his own lecture, nearly betrayed himself and his career, as he had watched Dana at her desk, reading through her notes and insistently working over the tip of her pen with her teeth. Her tongue had periodically traced its tip, her teeth drug slowly down the length of its cap, while all the while she had been lost in her own studious thoughts, utterly unaware of the destruction she was unleashing upon his helpless person. He had never been one to fixate on such small gestures. Only with her. *It had always been her. Moving in and out of his life with the insubstantial uncertainty of the black lace she secretly favored.* Dana was coaxing him closer now, and it took no effort at all to pull him in. Leaning near, he pressed his lips to the soft flesh just above the line of her bra, then again at the center, near the front clasp, tasting a trace of her perfume. He offered a trail of kisses, moving down between her ribs, onto the flatness of her belly, and she shifted slightly beneath him, turning to her back and offering herself to his ministrations. His hands slid down her sides, cradling her midriff, caressing her slender form. His fingers and lips found the scar on her abdomen, stroked it tenderly, and his eyes rose to hers. "Gunshot wound," she whispered. "I forgot that one." "Alien?" "Brown-nosing agent with a nervous finger." Daniel closed his eyes against a doctor's vision of cruel metal ripping through delicate flesh. He leaned down and kissed this scar again, then moved down and ran his tongue beneath the edges of her slouching gown. Dana reached out and pushed his jacket off his shoulders, opened the last of the buttons on his shirt. She guided the thin material off his shoulders, caressing his skin as she moved, following the lines and curves of his muscles. Daniel moved fully onto the bed, lying half beside her, half over her, and Dana welcomed him in at once, sliding an arm around his waist and kissing him hard, moving her hips up close against his and sending a shiver of pleasure through his core. Her torrent of words in the living room still rang in his ears despite the immediate distraction. The flood of pain and buried fear and hurt she had allowed him to glimpse tonight had been overwhelming. He could only imagine what her life had really been since their last goodbye. And he marveled at the strength of her character that had brought her through all of this and left her standing before him as self-possessed and enchanting as ever. Her tears had nearly broken him. He had only seen her cry like that, really cry, once in their life together. And the thought of all she had suffered without him, made him ache to hold onto her. The specifics of the events she had spoken of were still a blur behind his eyes. But one clear truth rang through the myriad contents. Dana Scully had nearly died. Many times. And he had not been there, had not had a clue she was in danger. For a decade of his life, no matter how many times he had tried to detach, move on, the sacred flame of her had burned in the depths of his soul, carrying him through his days, feeding him with the knowledge that she was still out in the world...somewhere. And it hit him now with horrific veracity, how lost he would be, if she were gone. He never wanted to let go. Her breasts were beyond perfect. Fuller, more mature than when he had last had access to intimate contact. He cupped his hands to their perfect roundness, kissed, caressed, revered. He felt the response in her, the gentle quivers that ran from the point of contact to places below. When he tried to meet her gaze, she slipped away, closing her eyes. But her body was opening to him. For a long minute Dana just lay back and indulged him, let him explore her curves--with his fingers, with his lips--drink in the landscape he had been kept from for too long. Then once again she guided him up close to her, stretched out against the length of her body. She brought his face close to hers, kept a hand on his cheek, though she didn't meet his eyes, kept her focus just below his chin. "Daniel..." she whispered, her voice throaty with desire, but tightened with just a hint of fear that made him stop and focus. "What, my Love?" "I have to ask you. When we're making love....don't--" she swallowed hard, "--don't pin me face down." A million nuances ran through her simple words, rushing through him like a dark wind, unfettered by his skin. Daniel reached up and brushed back her silky hair, hooking a few strands behind her ear. "Someday, we'll get there. But until I change the rules out loud, you can trust me with all your heart." Dana just closed her eyes and a single tear slipped down her cheek. He kissed it away. Then he latched onto her mouth again, and in the wake of this most intimate exchange, all pretense of slow luxurious pacing was lost in the undeniable heat of lust. ***** Daniel's hand moved up her thigh, pushing back her gown and sliding beneath the edge of her panties. Scully shifted her weight more heavily on top of him and he gripped her ass as he caught her weight. The thrill made her cry out softly. She opened her thighs just a bit and sank down on top of him, bringing her crotch into solid contact with the hard bulge in his boxers. The effect was utterly intoxicating to both sides. She swung her hair to one side, dragging it deliberately over Daniel's bare skin as she trailed kisses down the side of his throat. Daniel's heat against her was making her blood race, every shift of her hips worked the friction of the cloth of her panties against her already ultra sensitive clit, and she could feel the gentle pulse of sensation in his cock, reacting to every movement of her body. She liked the power. Daniel's hand returned to her breasts. Definitely a hot zone for her. In the distant past she had been brought near climax by attention to her breasts alone. He was slipping under the cloth of her bra now and she lifted her own hand to fumble with the clasp. Daniel took her cue and freed the hook himself. The black lace slipped to the floor. It didn't take long for the rest of their clothes to follow. Scully pulled the heavy comforter over them for shelter. She was less inhibited beneath the covers. Her body seemed to have a memory independent of her mind. Being against Daniel's skin again was awakening blurry and shaded memories and splashing them with the vivid color of yesterday. His hands moved over her body, stroking and caressing her back, her hips, the taut muscles of her thighs. And as wonderful as his touch felt, her deeper desires were calling to her, and it seemed he was touching everywhere but where she needed it most. Scully focused on exploring Daniel's body. Her hands drank in the firmness of his muscles, the power of his back. He truly was in remarkable shape for his age; his health scare must have driven him to the gym with a renewed passion. It had been so long since she had felt this much masculine strength above her (*Scully, are you hurt?*--Dammit, not now--), her body thrilled at every sensation. Even the deep resonance of his soft whispers was like an aphrodisiac. When his fingers drew their first light stroke between her legs, she nearly melted. Scully saw the hint of a smile pass over Daniel's lips at her obvious pleasure. He liked the power, too. That had always been their game, sparring with words and touches, always vying for the upper hand. They had fought as hard as they loved. His fingers toyed with her for a while, and Scully's thoughts began to blur. She felt her own rush of moisture slide across Daniel's fingers, and the slickness magnified the sensation exponentially. She reached out instinctively and cupped her hand around his erection, drawing her nails teasingly over the silky sensitive skin. She felt Daniel shiver against her body. She fingered him, enhancing her own pleasure with the contact. Time was warping in and out and making her dizzy. Was she really here with Daniel now? Here in D.C. after a long day on the X- Files? *Locked, cramped, little professor's office with black construction paper taped over the tiny window, straddling Daniel's lap in her worn blue jeans, kissing him until she couldn't breathe and the guilt faded into how safe she felt when he touched her hair.* His hips were over hers now, hovering, tempting. He was looking for her gaze, asking reassurance. She couldn't speak anymore, she had never been coherent in the face of physical sensation, but she welcomed him with her hands, cupping his hips and coaxing him toward her. As Daniel moved into position, Scully slipped a hand between them and gently guided him on the path between her folds. When he slipped inside it was like the last tight hair clip falling free and letting her breathe again. *Too long...far too long...* He started slowly, cautiously. She hadn't stretched this far in a while and he seemed to understand that. His gradual approach tempered the slight pain and emphasized the pleasure. Her hips sank into the rhythm easily, pacifying the aching need in her muscles. The gentle friction against her clit at this angle was keeping her at the peak of arousal. Daniel's unfailing attention to his partner's needs had always been one of his most beautiful traits. Rather surprising to her, really, in the midst of his younger, more egotistical days. But he had always been multi-layered, always kept her guessing. "Oh, God...." Her first words in sometime and she hardly knew her own voice, briefly heard her own stranger's cries on a terrifying cassette tape long ago. She was rapidly approaching her pleasure threshold--that delicate point where it almost hurt to take the luxury of time. Daniel stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, her temple, and Scully stretched her neck and bit at his ear or licked his throat each time he moved near. His pace was quickening, along with his pulse and breath. Hearing his arousal was as powerful as his touch. Scully closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around the vertical spindles of the headboard, nails digging into her palms. She pushed back with the heels of her hands, counter bracing against Daniel's rhythmic movements within her. He was deeper inside now, and she could feel him nearing that most vulnerable place. She knew a part of her was still resisting, even this small last step of opening herself fully to someone. Because if she lifted her knee just a bit, accentuated the arch of her back... But she hadn't. The closer he got, the more the ache grew within her. The most base and primitive representation of a world of emotional needs. Her need to feel anything again, her need to know herself, her need to be loved, to be held, her need to cry for Emily and all the faceless children that had been denied her. The need to feel fresh air on her skin in the afternoon and to voice out loud her love for this man above her-- "You're all I want, Dana." The hoarseness of his voice, quivering at the edge of climax, pushed her to the brink. "Tell me...you need this. Tell me." "Daniel...Please...Oh, God--please. Yes." Scully pressed her face into Daniel's wrist, bit gently at the flexing tendons, pulled hard on the headboard. Her resistance was crumbling. Her knee pulled up just a bit, and as Daniel leaned to kiss her temple, she rose ever so slightly to brush her breasts against his chest. And that was it. He was there. As the last of her walls fell, crushed by the unbearable need, Scully was overwhelmed with a sensation of forgotten home. Of belonging and being a complete and whole woman, safe and strong in Daniel's arms, lost in the sensation of his heat inside her. She felt the familiar tightness take hold just below her stomach. "Oh, God, Daniel..." The world was breaking. Scully clawed at his shoulders as her orgasm rushed in, pulling his weight down hard on top of her, grounding herself in the solidity of his form. In this moment, this was everything she needed, nothing else mattered but the glorious release. Her own inner muscles contracting on Daniel was all he needed to peak along with her. For lost time the room was gone. Then Scully reached down and quieted his hips with a gentle hand, unable to endure another pulse of sensation. Overloaded. In the come-down, she almost wanted to cry. Pleasure and pain and breathlessness all mixed into one suffocating wave of emotion. But she only closed her eyes and breathed. She laced her fingers into Daniel's hair, nuzzled against his face. Realized how tired she was. Daniel's breath was hot on her ear. He was kissing her flushed skin between breaths, cradling her cheek. "It's okay, Baby," he whispered. "You're okay." And she couldn't speak, silenced by the profound sensitivity of his words. A gentle rain had begun outside as they were lost in their own world. A mist of drops patterned the bedroom window and caught fragments of the street light below. "Stay," Daniel said simply, still breathless, face still buried in her hair. Scully tightened her arms across his back, feeling the thin sheen of perspiration, like the rain drops on the glass. "I'm here." ***** End Chapter 10c...Continued in 11a Feed me, or I will wilt -- bstrbabs@earthlink.net