TITLE: Against The Wall (1/2)

AUTHOR: Melody
EMAIL ADDRESS: [email protected]
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Okay to post or archive so long
as my name and info remain attached. Please send me
URLs of archives so I can visit!
SPOILER WARNING: Nothing much, but it IS post-Diana Fowley.
RATING: NC-17 for sexual content (SMUT!)
CONTENT WARNING: M/F sex
CLASSIFICATION: MSR SMUT
SUMMARY: While out of town at a partnership seminar, the agents
are asked to take a look at some strange rooms found in an
old warehouse -- with surprising results.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Against The Wall (17+) by Melody

Part 1 of 2

Chicago Convention Center

9:20 PM

The partnership seminar was officially over. Thank God.

I couldn't remember a time when a week stretched so long.
Mulder and I played all the games, solved all the puzzles,
ran through all the mazes set up to test and improve our
effectiveness as partners, and we'd blown away all the
competition. Pretty amazing, considering we hardly spoke
to each other anymore.

I wandered aimlessly around the hotel room fingering the

cheap silk scarf around my neck. It was one of the tacky
souvenirs designed for tourists, but it had been a 'trophy'
presented to me tonight during the dinner for excelling at
one of the games. Which one eluded me: I couldn't even
remember what Mulder's trophy had been. I'd tucked the scarf
in my pocket on the way back to our table and Mulder plucked
it back out as we sat down, sliding it around my neck and
tucking it under the lapels of my jacket. His familiar
touch, especially under the curious eyes of the rest of the
table, had immobilized me completely, but Mulder's face had
been expressionless. I didn't think I could take much more
of the distance between us.

I had just kicked off my high-heeled pumps when a knock came

at the hotel room door. Sighing, I reluctantly stepped back
into the shoes. The knock was from the hall door instead of
the connecting one, so it probably wasn't Mulder -- unless
he'd locked himself out again. Hopefully someone just had the
wrong room. I was really looking forward to a soak in the
tub, even though I showered just a few hours ago. Sitting
through the dinner that wrapped up the weeklong seminar had
been more exhausting than a regular case.

The door revealed a cop in uniform, though, and my hopes

for a bath sank.

"Agent Scully?" he asked. I nodded and motioned him into

the room. Since he asked for "Agent" Scully, he would
probably need Mulder, too. I took a few steps back, knocked
sharply on the connecting door between our rooms and called
Mulder's name. When I got no answer I opened the door a
crack. As I'd expected, the door on the other side was wide
open and the TV was blaring. Before I could call again,
though, Mulder appeared. His hair was rumpled and he'd taken
off his suit jacket but he hadn't had time to really get
comfortable for the night yet, either.

The young officer looked relieved when he saw Mulder. "Oh,

good, Agent Mulder is here, too. I apologize for bothering
you, but one of our detectives at the 34th heard you were in
town and sent me to ask a favor." He paused, flicking an
apologetic glance at me. "A couple of our local politicians
were missing for a few days, and when they turned up they
claimed they'd been kidnapped, held in an old building, and
subjected to torture. We've been checking around and we've
found a building that may match their description. Ahmm...
Detective Shively thought you might be able to tell us if we
have the right one."

"The politicians can't tell you?" I asked.

"No, ma'am." The young officer, whose nametag read 'Kelly',

looked embarrassed. "We called, but they're both under
doctors' care. One is on prescribed bed rest with no
disturbances, and the other evidently is under sedation."

"What makes Detective Shively think you've found the

building?" Mulder asked. "And why does he think we can
tell him if he's right?"

"The victims said they were held in torture chambers. This

building has some weird rooms..." He broke off to shrug.
"None of us really know what a torture room would look like.
Shively figures FBI agents might."

Mulder and I looked at each other. "It's not even 9:30

yet," Mulder said, "and it shouldn't take long. You can
stay here if you want."

"No, Mulder, I'll come, too," I said. "Maybe some fresh

air will do me some good." Besides, I didn't want him
wandering off on his own - I knew what usually happened then.

We both caught the surreptitious movement as the officer

checked his watch, and Mulder smiled faintly. "Is this
running you into overtime?" he asked.

The young cop looked embarrassed. "It took a little while

to find you. The desk clerk wasn't clear on which banquet
room the dinner was in, or when it was over."

"When is the end of your shift?"

"Ten, usually. But I don't mind staying over."

I could almost read Mulder's mind, and I was sympathetic,

too. The wedding band the cop wore was so obviously brand
new even I had noticed it. So I volunteered before Mulder
could. "How about if we follow you over -- then you can
leave from there and not worry about bringing us back to
the hotel." The young man's smile flashed with relief.
"Are you parked out front?"

"No, ma'am. In the parking garage."

"We'll be down in a few minutes."

After the door closed behind Kelly, Mulder turned to me.

"You don't have to come if you're tired, Scully. I don't
mind going alone."

"Trying to get rid of me?" I regretted the words as soon

as they were out, and made an erasing motion with my hand
as if that would delete them. "I'm sorry, Mulder, I know
that's not what you meant. I am tired, but I'm tired of
sitting more than anything else. Getting out a little after
all these seminars will feel good."

"The seminar could have been worse, Scully. They could have
had us build pyramids out of office furniture." He grinned
slightly, and I knew he'd already forgiven me. "I'll get
my jacket and meet you in the hall."

I checked the pockets of my jacket to make sure I had my ID

and keys, made sure I had some cash, then clipped my gun to
the waistband of my skirt.

Mulder stepped out into the hall the same time I did, still
in the process of pulling on his suit jacket. I could see
his gun on his belt but I would've bet my next paycheck he'd
forgotten his room key again. His hair was finger-combed. My
heart turned over as it still did at the most unexpected times.
I did my best to push it away, wondering for the thousandth
time if things would ever be right between us. We'd come so
close... But I'd think about that later. Right now possible
torture chambers awaited.

==================

The trip to the building actually took about twenty minutes.

It was on the riverfront in an area where urban renewal was
just beginning to gain a toehold. Most of the property was
warehouses, many of them abandoned, but some were in
the process of being torn down or remodeled. The
black-and-white stopped in front of one that, except for a
security light burning over the door, looked vacant.

"We borrowed the keys from the owner," the young officer
said when Mulder and I met him at the door. "He inherited
it a few months ago from an uncle. He told us he hasn't
been here yet, he only got possession of the keys last week.
His story checked out." The key scraped in the lock and the
door squeaked as he pushed it open. Just inside the door
was a row of light switches. He flipped several of them on
as we stepped in.

Half the light bulbs in the place seemed to be burned out

or missing, but there was enough light to see the small
piles of debris scattered about. Empty cardboard boxes, an
old metal barrel, and various scraps of paper composed the
closest heap. Along the front wall was an long narrow room
once used as an employee break room, with battered metal
lockers still hanging from one wall and a small restroom
in one corner.

"The rooms I told you about are in the back of the

warehouse," Officer Kelly said. "I'll just show you."

The back of the warehouse had been walled off and the
resultant space divided into rooms separated by a narrow
hallway. Kelly led us to the hall and opened the first two
doors, stepping aside so we could look in.

Mulder took a few steps into the first room, looked around
briefly, then went on to the next room. "Not much here,"
he observed. That was all he said. He inspected the third
room without a word. By the time he came out of the fourth
room I knew something was going on. Mulder was rarely this
quiet. Normally he kept up some kind of running banter with
the local law. I wanted to ask him what was going on, but
something about his manner kept me silent. I just waited
until he'd walked through the last three rooms.

"Officer Kelly?" Mulder spoke finally, his voice echoing

oddly from the doorway of the last small room. "I think
I can safely say these aren't your torture chambers.
Either you've got the wrong building, or your victims are
telling you a tall tale."

"What do you mean?"

"Was there evidence of torture on the victims' bodies?"

Mulder asked. Officer Kelly looked confused, and Mulder
shook his head. "Is your detective still on duty?"

"No. He was going home when he sent me to find you.

I'm supposed to report to him in the morning."

"Well, tell him these aren't torture chambers. Besides,

none of these rooms have been used in months - the dust
on the floor inside the rooms was undisturbed. There were
footprints only in the hall and the doorways. Tell the
detective he's going to have to keep looking. Scully and I
fly home tomorrow afternoon, so if Detective Shively wants
to talk to me he can reach me at this number." He found one
of his cards, wrote his cell number on the back and gave it
to the officer.

"Yes, sir." Carefully Officer Kelly stowed the card in his

pocket. "Do you need me for anything else, Agents?"

"I don't think so," I said, looking at Mulder for

confirmation. He seemed distracted, which stirred my
curiosity even more.

"I'd like to look around a little longer, if that's okay,"

Mulder said hurriedly when he realized we were both looking
at him. "Will the outside door lock without the key?"

"Yes, sir, just pull it closed. Look around all you want."
With a smile and a sketchy salute, the newlywed officer
took off.

I waited until I heard the door shut behind him before I

spoke. "Okay, Mulder, what's going on?"

He gave me one of his half-shrugs. "I just want to look

through the rooms again. I won't take long."

I accepted that, but trailed behind him as he walked through

them again. I looked a little more closely at the odd rooms,
too. They were little more than concrete-block cubicles, no
windows, with small sinks in one corner. Several rooms had
hooks in the walls. One had metal loops embedded in the
concrete floor. All the floors were covered with a fine
layer of dust, disturbed inside the rooms by only our
footprints. As Mulder perused the seventh room my curiosity
got the best of me. He was keeping his face expressionless,
but I could practically hear his brain humming.

"Okay, Mulder, what is it? What are these rooms? Are they
torture chambers, after all?"

"Not exactly, Scully. I really think they've got the wrong

building. Either that, or the victims weren't actually
victims."

"What do you mean?"

"I think this building was a sex club."

I just stared at him, too surprised to speak, trying to

decide if he was kidding or not. My mind flew back over the
rooms... The first room had been bare except for a metal
straight-back chair and a hook on the plain concrete-block
wall. The second room had a vinyl chair shaped like a weird
giant hand. In fact there seemed to one odd thing per room: a
freestanding pillar of polished granite, a low narrow wooden
table, four metal loops in a square on the floor, and a
large empty wine barrel.

This room, just like the others, was a small concrete-block

room with a plain concrete floor. A small sink was in one
corner with a floor drain beneath it. No windows. On one
wall was an odd teardrop shape made from stuffed brown
vinyl. Above it and on either side about three feet from
the floor were metal hooks embedded in the wall. No matter
how I looked at the odd shape, I couldn't see any connection
to sex.

"You're joking, aren't you." He was, wasn't he? "You've

been watching too many of those videos that aren't yours."
I looked over at Mulder to see if he'd admit it only to
find him staring fixedly at the teardrop. There was
something odd about the way he was standing. I glanced at
the shape and back again just in time to see Mulder slip
one hand into his pants pocket in an attempt to hide his
growing erection. He was aroused!

"No, I'm not joking. C'mon, let's get back to the hotel.
Hopefully that kid didn't accidentally lock us in."

Not yet! I wanted to know why that ugly vinyl shape

turned him on. Stubbornly, I didn't move.

"Not yet, Mulder. Why do you think this was a sex club?
I don't see the connection."

"Scully, you don't want to know." His tone was wry and
he wouldn't look at me.

"Yes I do," I insisted.

He hesitated so long I was beginning to think he wasn't

going to answer. Finally he took a deep breath. "These
are bondage rooms," he said. His voice held an odd tone
that told me he was uncomfortable talking about this with
me. He glanced sideways at me as if to see if his answer
would end the conversation. It had only given me more
questions, but before I could voice them he asked,

"Did you ever watch that show 'Red Shoe Diaries'?" I nodded,
and he continued. "There was one episode about a female cop.
She spent a lot of time trying to get this man to notice her,
but he never did. It made her angry. So she 'arrested' him,
took him to this place, handcuffed him to a chair and ...
had her way with him. Get it?"

Mulder had turned to me as he finished. Oh, yes, I remembered

that episode well - it was one of my favorites. I felt my
face heat and knew his watchful eyes wouldn't miss the
telltale flush. Something flickered across his face before
he dropped his eyes and turned away.

Was that longing I saw in his eyes? Or was I reading into

it what I was hoping to see? I swore to myself I wouldn't
let another opportunity pass, but I wanted more than that
glimpse of emotion to go on. I wet suddenly dry lips and
took a steadying breath.

"Okay, I get the picture. And even I can figure out the
table. But what about the room with the granite pillar?"

Mulder rocked back on his heels and looked at the ceiling,

and I knew it had surprised and rattled him that I was
even asking. Sex was something we NEVER talked about.
Ever. His answer was succinct.

"Tie the person to the pillar and they're at your mercy.

Pretty much the same thing with the table and the rings
in the floor of the fifth room, too." Even as he spoke
I watched him slide his other hand into his pocket. He
was definitely aroused. But why? Was just talking about
sex and bondage doing it? Did I dare believe it had
anything to do with me? I needed to get him to face me.

"How about the wine barrel?" As I had hoped, this

question got him to turn, and he eyed me with something
akin to wariness.

"Lie across one on your belly and you're helpless. Even

more so on your back. And the barrel can be rocked..."
he caught himself and shut up before he said any more.
He wouldn't quite meet my eyes.

It wasn't just the rooms or my imagination. My being here

with him, talking about sex and bondage, was getting Mulder
hot. How far could I go with this? Far enough to break
down the barrier that had grown between us since Diana had
reappeared in his life? I had to try.

"And this thing?" I pushed, pointing to the teardrop

attached to the wall. I could hear my heart hammering at
nearly twice it's normal rate and wondered if Mulder
could hear it, too.

"Uhh... It's for pushing against." Mulder's reply was

vague. Color was creeping across his cheekbones, and even
with both his hands in his pockets I could still see his
erection. He was very, very aroused... and I was getting
there fast. Bondage was not what I would have chosen
for our first sexual experience, but I'd take Mulder any way
I could get him. If I didn't do something drastic soon I
might lose him anyway. If it took bondage to bridge the void
between us...so be it.

Feeling reckless, I said, "I don't get it. Can you ...show
me?" My voice came out husky and Mulder turned to me
sharply. For several minutes he stood there, staring at
me. I tried to let him see what I was feeling, with my
eyes, my face, my body language. His eyes went dark and
I found it suddenly hard to breathe.

"You want me to *show* you?" he asked finally.

**end part 1/2**

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Against The Wall (NC-17) by Melody

Part 2 of 2

"You want me to *show* you?" he asked finally.

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak. He stepped closer

and looked down into my face. "How far do you want me
to go, showing you?"

I met his eyes and fought to steady my panicky pulse.

This was my chance, maybe my last chance. If I could show
him what he means to me this way... I prayed, swearing
to myself and God that I wouldn't waste this opportunity,
that I'd tell Mulder how I felt and exactly what he meant
to me before this night was out. So many times I'd tried,
but something had always stopped me, some ill-timed
interruption or plain cowardice on my part. Bondage...
it was the ultimate trust. There was no one I trusted
more than Mulder. Would he understand?

I had to take the risk.

"As far as you want to," I answered huskily, nervously

wetting my lips again. "All the way."

For another long minute he stood there looking at me

as if to decide whether or not I was serious. When he
turned and walked away my heart fell, but he only closed
the door and threw the bolt. It blocked out most of the
light in the room, leaving only what came from the dim
bulb in the ceiling fixture.

Mulder shrugged out of his suit jacket as he slowly walked

back towards me. He dropped it on the floor and stopped
only one step away from me. My eyes followed his movements
as he very deliberately unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves
and rolled them twice. Then he put his hands on his hips
and asked one more time,

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

My eyes flicked to the bulge in his pants he was now

making no effort to hide, then back to his face. His
face was mostly in shadow now, but his eyes still gleamed.
The intensity I saw and felt directed at me was a little
frightening. "Yes," I whispered, "I'm sure."

Mesmerized, I watched him reach for his tie and pull it

loose. "Take off your jacket," he ordered. I obeyed almost
without thinking, sliding it off my shoulders then holding
it uncertainly. He took it and dropped it atop his.
He stepped closer and pulled the holster from my waistband,
tossed it onto the jackets, then did the same with his own
gun. Then he pulled handcuffs from the clip on his belt.

"Give me your hands."

My breath caught, but I held my hands out. Mulder was

my partner. He would never hurt me. The cuffs closed
around my wrists just snugly enough that I couldn't pull
them off. One of Mulder's thumbs caressed the tender
skin above my wrist almost absently.

"Don't pull on these, Scully, or you'll tear up your

wrists."

"Okay." It came out in a whisper, barely audible.

His hands were warm on my shoulders through my silk blouse

as he guided me back a step, then he took my bound hands and
raised them over my head. A faint grin touched his mouth
and he looked down at me.

"Must be fate, Scully. You're too short for this hook."

Was I going to let anything stop us now? "I'll pretend,"

I promised, and pressed my hands against the cold concrete
block wall above my head. "I won't move."

Something hot and dangerous flared in Mulder's eyes.

Slowly, deliberately, he ran his hands down the length of
my arms and across my collarbones until he could cup my
chin in his palms.

"Be very sure, Scully," he warned, his voice rough, his

breathing fast and shallow. I nodded my head. "If you
want me to stop you'll have to tell me." I nodded again,
then his head lowered and his mouth took mine in a searing
kiss. When his tongue surged into my mouth my heart
rocketed briefly against my ribs then settled to a slow
pounding, but as soon as I started kissing him back Mulder
pulled away.

He tugged off my scarf as he stepped back, then pulled off

his tie. Kneeling at my feet he tied them around my legs
just above my knees. He wasn't tying my legs together...
I couldn't see what he was doing, and couldn't guess.
Mulder's hands on my legs made me tremble deep inside.
Dampness began to gather between my legs.

He stood, finally, and reached for my blouse, slowly

pulling it out of my waistband and undoing the buttons
from the bottom up. When he reached the top he spread it
wide, exposing the creamy satin bra that exposed far too
much pale skin. For a moment he just looked, taking in
the rapid rise and fall of my breasts with my breathing,
watching the pulse flutter in the base of my neck. At
last he touched me.

Long, hard fingers slipped across my ribcage, then up to

stroke the undersides of my breasts through the satin.
They traced the lines of the bra, brushed over rigid
nipples and continued up the straps to my neck, leaving
my breasts aching in anticipation.

His hands cupped my face and his head bent. He kissed me

then, gently, cradling my head in his hands. A light kiss,
then another, barely playing with my lips. Each kiss that
followed was different from the first, a different angle,
harder, softer, deeper, but with each one he built the
intensity slowly. His hands moved, slipping down to stroke
my breasts lightly through the satin. Each touch was
torture, never lingering where I wanted his touch, not
quite enough... I felt the clasp between my breasts give
beneath the clever fingers. Then, finally, Mulder touched my
breasts.

Strong hands kneaded my soft flesh; long fingers found the

pebbled nipples. He rolled them, catching them between
finger and thumb, plucking and twisting until I moaned deep
in my throat. He stepped into me, deliberately putting
his feet between mine, using his weight to press me back
against the wall. I felt the vinyl against my back and hips,
felt his erection hard against my belly. My legs felt weak,
and the flesh between my legs began to ache.

Mulder's head bent to my breasts and my eyes closed as

his mouth found a nipple. He suckled hard, flicking with
his tongue and scraping the tender tip with his teeth. I
barely noticed when his hands dropped to my hips and began
easing my skirt up. Only when he trailed his mouth back up
my throat did I notice my skirt was bunched around my waist.
My lower body was covered only by the sheer lace-top pantyhose
I'd worn beneath the clingy dress suit.

Mulder's hands curved around the back of my thighs, lifting

me high against him with unconscious ease. He rocked against
me, his hard length pressing into the notch between my legs,
finding just the right angle. My breath hitched and my arms
somehow found their way around Mulder's neck. My hips
bucked against him and Mulder groaned. Then his hands were
behind my knees, urging them up, spreading my legs wide,
wider... He ground himself into me until I moaned aloud, until
my hands fisted tightly in his hair. He pulled my fingers
loose and pushed my hands up, up, back against the wall. Then
he stepped back, breathing hard, and I realized I was bound.

The ties around my knees had been slipped over the hooks
on the wall, and hook above me held my cuffed hands high
over my head. I was hanging spread-eagle against the
wall with my legs bearing most of my weight. The stuffed
teardrop thrust my pelvis toward Mulder, leaving me exposed
and very, very vulnerable. Understanding of the shape came,
finally, and all the breath left my body.

I had never felt so helpless, so completely without

control. Panic stirred and I began to tremble, my breath
came in shallow gasps and for a moment I felt faint.
Then my eyes met my partner's, and the fear faded. This
was Mulder. I trusted him as I could never trust another.
Mulder would never hurt me.

He stood just out of reach, his eyes on my face, watching,

waiting. Color stained his cheekbones, the fabric of his
pants strained at the zipper, and his chest heaved as he
fought for control. His eyes were wild, but I knew I could
end this here with only a word.

I made no sound.

Slowly his hands came up and started on the buttons of his

shirt. His eyes never left mine. The message in them was
clear. He was going to take me. Unless I stopped him. Did
I want to?

God, no. I wanted him.

The shirt hit the floor. His chest gleamed in the dim light,
sheened with sweat. His hands dropped to his belt, the long
agile fingers pulling at the leather, manipulating the buckle.
I could hear my own harsh breathing, and my belly, my breasts,
were beginning to ache. The flesh between my legs ached and
throbbed with heat. His buckle slipped free, the zipper
eased down...

He stepped forward, his mouth fusing with mine. His weight

pushed me into the padded vinyl, the ridge of his erection
hard against me. I moaned, kissing him back desperately,
trying to suck his tongue deeper into my mouth, stroking it
urgently. Unconsciously I tried to pull my hands free,
wanting to touch him, pull him tighter against me. He broke
the kiss, breathing raggedly.

"Be still! Be still or you'll hurt yourself," he groaned

against my lips, and I subsided. I felt his hands slip
between our bodies, felt and heard my pantyhose tear, then
there were no more barriers and his fingers were on me,
pressing into my wetness, sliding deep inside. I cried
out in pleasure.

He kissed me again as his fingers worked, finding and

stroking all my secret places. His mouth trailed down
across my face to my neck, pausing to taste and nip the
skin above my pounding pulse. When he found my breasts
again, I was writhing, gasping his name.

Begging.

"Yes, Scully," Mulder rasped. "For me. Come for me."

The heel of his hand pressed, his fingers curled, and I
shattered.

I groaned as his fingers left me, then his clothes were

gone and his erection nudged into me, hot and hard. He
pushed in slowly but steadily, panting as if fighting
the urge to thrust deep. I was wet and ready, but I was
still small. Mulder most definitely was not. It was
going to be a tight fit... I writhed, gasping at the
pressure. He paused, withdrew slightly, then pushed in
again. Rocked back. In again, then back, then in, each
thrust going a little deeper, a little faster.

I was moaning and chanting Mulder's name in mindless

pleasure when finally he thrust in all the way to the
hilt. He stopped, sweat-slicked chest heaving, his full
hard length buried deep inside me. His hands dug into my
hips, trying to pull me tighter against him even as his
body pinned mine tightly to the wall. His breathing was
ragged as he pressed his face into my hair.

For a time that was enough. He was inside me, hot and
huge. His heart was racing. So was mine.

A few deep breaths later he began to move again.

Thrusting shallowly at first, slowly, barely moving...
then deeper and deeper, until finally he was withdrawing
almost completely before burying himself in me again.
His hands cupped my breasts as his pace quickened, long
hard strokes that pounded me against the vinyl. The
force of each drive shoved me up the teardrop only to
slide back down as he withdrew. I chanted incoherently
between gasping breaths, shuddered as waves of pleasure
crashed over me, screamed helplessly as I climaxed.
Mulder didn't stop, didn't even slow down. Over and
over I cried out as orgasms shook my body before at last
he went rigid, spewing heat deep inside me in a
wrenching release that tore a hoarse cry from his throat.

He leaned heavily against me and we both gasped for breath.

Gradually I became aware of trembling, but whether it came
from me or Mulder, I couldn't tell. Possibly both of us.

Gradually our lungs caught up. Mulder straightened and

his hands came up to frame my face. His fingers trembled
against my cheeks.

"God, Scully," he breathed, then he kissed me oh-so-tenderly.

His hands traced up my arms and lifted my wrists free of
the hook. I managed to get my arms around his neck, burying
my fingers in his hair as he stroked back down my body to
free my legs.

My legs had no feeling and they dangled like a broken

marionette's. Mulder was all that held me up. He cradled
me against him, his hands caressing, making no move to
complete his withdrawal from me.

I don't know how long we stood there like that. Long enough
for my legs to wake up.

I bit back a moan when Mulder finally withdrew from me and

stood me back on my feet. I felt somehow bereft. Fumbling
for his keys, he unlocked the handcuffs and slipped them off
my wrists. His fingers rubbed gently at the marks left by
the bracelets, and I knew there would be bruises there in
the morning. I didn't care, but Mulder must have. He bent
his head and kissed the reddened skin in wordless apology.

My shoulders shrieked in protest when I tried to reach out

to him. I don't think I made a sound, but Mulder saw I was
in pain. His hands found the muscles knotted and aching
from being bound above my head and kneaded the pain away.
I let myself lean against him, and finally found my voice.

"Okay," I croaked in a voice hoarse from screaming. "I

think I get it now."

Mulder had gone still at the first sound of my voice, but

a second later my words sank in and he began to laugh. A
real laugh. Well, I finally managed to shock the hell out
of my partner. Not to mention myself as well.

Shared laughter broke the tension, and what could have been
awkward suddenly wasn't. Mulder leaned back to look down
at my face, his own relaxed and happy for the first time
in recent memory. No shadows lurked in his eyes and his
smile was tender.

"Scully," he said, running a finger down my cheek, "I

worry sometimes that you're too damn perfect to be real.
I live in fear that someday I'll wake up and find you were
just a dream."

"If you're dreaming, so am I," I said softly. "Besides,

you - better than anyone else on earth - know I'm far
from perfect."

Mulder was still smiling though his eyes had gone serious.
"You are to me."

He almost made me cry. Tears welled but I blinked them

back. He understood and stepped back a little, chuckling
a bit when he looked down at our bodies.

"I'm extremely glad there aren't any cameras in here,"

he joked. His pants and boxers were crumpled around his
ankles, his socks and shoes still on. My blouse and bra
hung open from my shoulders, and my skirt was rucked up
around my waist. My pantyhose were ripped and sticking damply
to my thighs. My shoes were on the floor beneath the shape
on the wall. Mulder chuckled again at the look on my face,
then bent and pulled his boxers and pants up. He zipped
his pants then fished in his back pocket and offered me his
handkerchief, motioning vaguely in the direction of the sink.
I took it, took a few steps toward the sink and stopped,
distracted by the feel of Mulder's tie and my scarf still
tied around my knees. Before I could move Mulder was there,
untying the knots and removing them, and I went on to
the sink.

I was glad there was no mirror. I ran cool water over the
square of cotton and rinsed the sweat from my face and
chest, then fastened the clasp on my bra. Stripping off
the ruined pantyhose was a relief. I washed as well as
I was able then pulled my wrinkled skirt down, smoothing
it over my bare bottom and legs. It felt strange and
somehow naughty to be naked underneath. I was smiling
to myself as I tugged my blouse into place and started
on the buttons.

Mulder was watching me when I turned around. He'd pulled

on his shirt and partially buttoned it, and had his gun
clipped back on his belt. My holstered gun was in his
hands.

"I don't know if I should give this back to you. When

you see the back of your blouse you're gonna want to
shoot me again." His eyes flicked to the teardrop and
back and he shrugged helplessly. "The floor wasn't the
only thing covered in dust."

"I won't shoot you again," I promised as I took my gun

and tucked it back where it belonged. "If it was only
dust, it'll come out. And if it doesn't I don't care."
He picked up our jackets, brushing at them, too, before
holding mine out to me. The awkwardness was creeping
back.

"I guess we'd better get back to the hotel," he said.

I wasn't ready for this to be over - not yet. Not until

I was sure Mulder wouldn't retreat back behind that wall.
Not until I knew if this had been a step forward, or a
step apart.

"Umm, Mulder," I said before I lost my momentary courage.

I looked up into his face, acutely aware of the nakedness
beneath my skirt. "Maybe we should check those other
rooms before we leave."

"What?" Mulder stared at me. I don't see how I could

have surprised him, not after what we'd just done, but the
look on his face started out as shock. Then the shock
faded and he looked aroused and confused, as if he couldn't
decide whether to laugh, run, or take me up on it.

Arousal won. His eyes heated again, and that look combined
with the feeling of being half dressed, aroused me
incredibly - even though only minutes earlier I'd thought
myself completely sated.

Yes, the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.
Maybe it was an odd time and place, but the ice between us
was well and truly broken now and I wanted it to stay that
way. Finally I had the chance to make sure he knew exactly
how I felt about him. There would be no interruptions
here.

Besides, my curiosity was up. I wanted to try another of

the rooms... maybe with Mulder at *my* mercy this time...

**end "Against The Wall"**

**Author's note: Okay, you KNOW there'll be more of these...!

Comments, questions, begging, and bribes eagerly awaited at
[email protected]!)

This story is dedicated to Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Ten for all their
help and support. They never complain when I bounce ideas off them!
And they are always there for me with encouraging words! Thanks,
Ladies!!

Posted Nov. 4, 1999.