Title: Vantage Points (1/1) Author: Marguerite Classification: MSR, V Rating: R (sexual situations) Spoilers: Slight Redux II Archive: Yes, but please tell me where Summary: Recalling "the night before"--Scully's thoughts, then Mulder's Disclaimer: 20th Century Fox and Chris Carter own these characters. I just wanted them to have a good time. I'll put them back when I'm done. Author's notes: Thanks to Kelly Shuford and Laura Shapiro for proofreading, technical support, and all-around encouragement. VANTAGE POINTS SCULLY: Oh, dear God, what have I done? He's lying in my bed, sound asleep. Naked. I'm naked, too; all I'm wearing is this idiotic smile on my face. And his scent on my skin. He smells good, like a little boy, the way he must have been before all the tragedies began. My mind drifts to a little boy of my own, the son I'll never have. Not even after tonight. Never. Strange how even though the mind knows, the body still stirs and tells me how much it would love to hold a child of his. I won't cry about it. I'll just touch his hair and remember how it felt to be in his arms at last. Sudden and impulsive, as are all his gestures, he took us from idle conversation to passionate embrace before we could think about the consequences. His mouth was warm. He's kissed my hair and my hand, my forehead and my cheek before, but only when I was dying. I didn't think he'd want me if I were healthy. I was wrong. His eyes are different when he's aroused. They turn into pure energy, seeing through my body as if it weren't there, straight into my soul. He knew, he had to know, how much I wanted him. I could see it in those eyes, the enormous pupils ringed with a green darker and more inviting than anything I'd ever seen. At that moment he could have asked me anything and I'd have done it for him. I imagined what kinds of acts he had seen on those videotapes of his, and I was so afraid of disappointing him. Instead, he chose to make love to me so gently that I wanted to cry. He said my name when he entered me. He called me 'Dana.' I can't remember the last time he did that. It went through my heart even as he pierced my flesh, and I was left helpless. We were together in body, just as our souls have been for so long. I have no words for the sensations that overtook me. I'm a doctor; I know the clinical terminology for where and how he touched me, but they are pale shades of what happened. All I know is that he was part of me, granting my every desire with each caress, each thrust. I was insane, arching further and further upward until he filled me, crying out my pleasure. I don't do that. I'm under control. But not with him. My skin was on fire, every inch an erogenous zone. He was watching me with those eyes, hungry now but filled with compassion for my tortured cravings. He rocked against me, searching for the place that made me shudder. Oh, yes, there...he knew. I was writhing beneath him. I should have been embarrassed that he saw me like that, but I didn't care about anything except the delicious ache. Past rational thought, I felt the first pulses begin from deep within me. He smiled tenderly at me; he knew I was coming and he was glad. I tried to smile back, but just then the orgasm swept over me and I could hear myself wailing. I don't do that, either. Maybe a soft moan sometimes, but not that. But this was no ordinary climax, given grudgingly by a man eager to get to his own release, or even expertly by someone who genuinely wanted my pleasure. This was an expression of years of pent-up longings, of admiration and affection. I knew that he was giving me a part of himself he had never given any other woman, and he knew that I knew. I clung to him, shaking, my body still reeling from the aftershocks. He had waited for me patiently and lovingly, but I could feel him swelling and throbbing within me. Suddenly I wanted him to know what I had just felt, and I wanted it to happen now, to let him experience something that would change him just at it had changed me. "Take me, Fox." I can't believe I said anything so inane, much less in a voice dark and hoarse from all the panting and moaning. But he didn't laugh; he looked down at me with tremendous yearning and stroked my face. In silence he began to move again, his breathing becoming faster and more ragged. His eyes never left my face. He was leaning on his forearms with his hands in my hair, stroking it in rhythm. Every muscle in his lean body was taut and he began to sweat as he shuddered. There were no demands, no requests for impossible contortions, just the eloquent plea in his eyes that asked for my understanding as he let himself lose control. Gasping, he thrust so quickly and deeply that I thought I would shatter. Somehow my body found ways to take him in deeper, to bring him so far into me that he would be utterly mine. His face took on an expression I'd only ever seen in statues of martyred saints: a sublime combination of agony and bliss. He pulled up on his hands and kissed me. His arms trembled under the strain. "I love you, Dana," he whispered into my open mouth, then it happened. Violent tremors racked him and he gathered me into his arms. I felt the fullness of him, then the incredibly hot rush as he shared his innermost secret with me. He cried out again as he came, calling out to me. "Dana!" I wrapped myself around him, knowing that the sweat from his exertions would leave him chilled. We rolled over onto our sides, facing one another as we embraced, and he fell asleep with an apologetic murmur. I'd have skinned myself alive to keep him warm. I still would. He's smiling now in his innocent sleep. What does he dream about, that makes him smile? MULDER: She's watching me. I can feel the cool burn of her eyes as she strokes my hair. I want to move, to hold her, but I'm drained of all energy. That's not true. If I were alone right now, I could rise from this warm bed and dance. But this is her room, her domain, and if I open my eyes I'll have to talk to her. I'm afraid. It's a fear of my own making. We were just sitting around signing the endless paperwork that comes with the territory of being an FBI agent, when suddenly I got the impression that she was touching me. She wasn't, of course, because her hands were full of papers, but something in her eyes made it seem as if we were holding tightly to one another. I've had that feeling a lot since her miraculous recovery, but last night it was just too strong to resist. I put my hands on her face and kissed her. Cliched as it may sound, her lips were sweet. I don't think the kiss really surprised her; she seems to know more about what's going on in my head than I do. I knew immediately that I would either make love to her or jump out the window in sheer frustration. Thank God, she wanted me as much as I did her. I hate having to undress in front of other people. Scully's seen me naked before, but always in a medical capacity. I know the look in her eyes, the cool, impartial gaze that signals to me: 'Yes, I see this, but I am unmoved.' That wasn't the look I saw. She was impressed--I don't know why, because I think I'm too thin and always have been--and it showed in the way her eyes glistened. Her body is perfection. Amazingly so, given that a few months ago she was a heartbeat from death. When I saw her, moonlight playing on her alabaster skin, I wanted to weep. I wanted to offer thanks to God for His mercy in sparing this beautiful woman who trembled as I pressed my body against hers and held her to me. My lovely Dana was nervous. Her delicate hands seemed unsure, and her jade eyes were puzzled. I led her to the bed and hovered over her, caressing her, wanting her to know that she was safe with me. By degrees she relaxed. Afraid of hurting her, I entered her slowly. Oh, the warmth of her welcome! That was only the beginning. All pretense of control was gone and she went into a state of erotic frenzy that drove me wild. How could this be the same woman who poked holes in my every idea, who raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow at me if I made a comment that was the slightest bit out there? Her neck arched as she tossed her hair on the pillow, moaning so provocatively that I nearly came at the sound. I rocked carefully against her, making sure that the contact point was where she needed the most touch. I could feel her contracting around me. I know I'm selfish, and that extends to the bedroom; when I have sex it's to achieve release as quickly and enjoyably as possible. Of course I want to pleasure the woman as well, but later. This was completely different because Scully isn't just any woman. For the first time in my life, my goal wasn't self-centered. I wanted, needed to bring her to climax, to sate the thirst that was making her body undulate under mine as she moaned aloud. The problem was that the sight and sound of her were unbearably erotic, and I was on the verge of an earth-shattering orgasm. Baseball? Aliens? What could I think about to keep from exploding? Aliens playing baseball? Nothing would work if she continued the wild movements. I was trying to imagine the starting line-up of the Reticulan team, but it wasn't helping. Suddenly her body went still and she cried out, trying to return my coaxing smile. She came and came, and I was elated to see her beautiful eyes look so lovingly at me. She asked me to take her. As if I could've stopped myself. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time as I reached to touch her face. To lose myself in that much beauty was a gift beyond compare. She brought me deeper inside her and moments later I was gone, the tightness so unbearable that I couldn't think any more. Somewhere in the maelstrom was the idea that I might be hurting her, but she was radiant with happiness. I wanted to tell her that it was not just her body that brought me to this point, but there was no time. Boiling, raging, I pulled away just far enough to kiss her and tell her that I loved her, just before the orgasm ripped through me. My body melted. Boneless, nerveless, I collapsed into her waiting arms and committed the ultimate sin: slumber. At least I think I did, for I remember nothing after my eyes slid shut and I asked for her pardon. My last conscious thought was that I must be some kind of idiot, falling asleep on Dana Scully. She is watching me, and I smile at her. I love her. It's time to open my eyes and tell her once again. END Feedback is welcomed and will be answered gratefully. : )