DISCLAIMER: All XF characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the Fox Network. They also belong to Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, without whom, they would have life, but no soul. No copyright infringement intended. All other characters bear no resemblance to anyone either living or dead. No financial gain is made from this writing. ARCHIVE: GOSSAMER ONLY UNLESS YOU ASK PERMISSION AND ON THESE CONDITIONS 1. I REMAIN AS AUTHOR along with my e-mail addy 2. MY DISCLAIMER AND LOGLINE REMAIN WITH THE STORY 3. YOU LET ME KNOW WHERE IT'S GOING SATED NOT ABATED II (1/1) Yvonne J Richards Yvonne-Richards@CLASSIC.msn.com Set after SPOILER FOR SEASON 5 CHRISTMAS CAROL, EMILY AND KITSENUGARI RATING - NC17 CONTENT WARNING - SOLITARY SEXUAL ACTS AND SMUT CLASSIFICATION - V Okay, this is the sequel you asked for. I couldn't write it when you asked for it, but it just popped into my head the other day. So, here it is. Enjoy. If you didn't read the original Sated not Abated - why not? Storyline so far is: Scully, feeling a need to be close to Mulder, visits him in the early hours of the morning. Finding he has been pleasuring himself, she books a room at the house of 'ill repute', (Millie's) he himself uses. Because, she says, she is shy, he has to wear a mask until she extinguishes all the candles. Her intention is to let this deception continue so that they can ease each others sexual tensions without him having to know it's her. Read on, if you dare! All flames will be used to fan my already overactive imagination! Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com *************************************************** ------------------NC17------------------------------------- IF YOU'RE UNDER AGE - OR DON'T LIKE SOLITARY SEXUAL ACTS -------------STOP HERE------------------ ***************************************************** Sated not Abated II by Yvonne J Richards April 1997 Somehow, I find myself back here. Back at Millie's 'establishment'. Back in room 1013, the black silk boxers clinging to my masculinity. The raw silk fibers; smooth over my hardness yet tantalising as they brush across my scrotum. The mask lies on top of the bed. This time is different, though. The last time I came to her, I wanted to make love, needed to make love. Have someone caress me as though I meant something to them. Really meant something to them. Hell, who am I trying to kid? The last time I'd come, I'd come for sex but what I had found was someone who really meant something to me. Something that was returned. I knew as soon as I entered her that she was mine. I was home. This time, though. God, this time _is_ different. I booked the room an hour before I arranged with Millie for her to be here. I'm so highly charged that I know I won't be able to control myself. I'll thrust myself on her and possibly ruin whatever chance I have of this relationship going beyond this room. I don't want to blow this one. She's special. I know her. Not only in the Biblical sense. Every fiber of my being fused with hers that night. She felt it too, I know that. The electricity courses through my body, shooting pinpricks of pain up my engorged penis. I know if I don't find some release for this soon I will scream. Literally. Somehow, the porn videos that had once turned me on hold no pleasure for me. Not since her. It was so good with her that pleasuring myself has seemed an incomplete act. Incomplete without her to complete me. Too emotive for me? Well, it seems that, just recently, I've been to hell and back. Not the usual run-of-the-mill 'strange-stuff' that I'm involved in, but the emotional side of me. When I thought I'd killed the only person in my life I've ever trusted. Ever allowed to get close enough to tease open the real Fox Mulder. My body goes cold at the thought. The blood pounds through my ears, a haze of red pain floating before my eyes. Dear God, what would I do without her? I don't have an answer. Slipping under the comforter, in between the silken sheets, I lie on my back. The ache in my groin is painful. Slowly, I slip my hand down to stroke myself through the silk of the boxers. Not too much, I'm too close for that. Deftly, I push a long slender finger through the placket and feel my own heat. My need, desire for sexual release, bobs back at me as I draw the material down along my pubic hair, just enough, to hold myself. The tension eases all at once as the restrictions of my clothing are gone. I need another restriction though, unfortunately. I don't want to chance coming on the sheets. Quickly, I ease the condom from its foil packet and push it down the entire length of my shaft. God, it feels good. Just to be touching myself, so, so, good. With my middle finger I trace lazy circles around the wiry strands where my scrotum nestles, bringing two featherlight fingers to rest on the tiny bag of nerves at the base of my shaft. I sigh, a deep, sigh of contentment. Here, I feel close to her, aroused even by her non-presence, the knowledge that soon she will be here to surround me with her warm, velvet folds. To take me to a place I've never been with any other woman. To take me home. Grasping my heat I begin the slow, rhythmic stroking that I know will push me to the edge of my mental endurance before I implode and explode at one and the same time. My eyelids flutter as my breathing becomes shallower. With each stroke of my hand, each imaginary pump of myself into her, my breathing becomes more and more laboured. I screw my eyes up against the immense pleasurepain of it. I am on the brink, teetering on the edge of joy and insanity mixed and mingled into the one breathtaking release, that is orgasm. Standing on the precipice, ready to fall into the deep, dark abyss. Rising, rising, rising. I am pumping now, my hand making frantic strokes up and down. My breath coming in short pants, my moans audible, the bed creaking under the intensity of my need. Yes, yes, yes, I am right on the edge, right there, one more stroke. Just one more stroke. I won't need any more. Just one more. Christ, just one more. My hand never stops, my brain chanting the mantra. Just one more, one more. _Please, please,_ I _need_ this. For Christ's sake, just one more stroke. PLEASE. As suddenly as the waves of pleasure have advanced to my swollen tip, almost unbalancing me, they are gone, leaving me tender and frustrated. Mentally and sexually. I dread her coming to me now. My need of sexual release is so much greater than before. I will literally screw up with her. I'll advance on her too quickly, my need will be too great, I'll come to soon. Oh shit. I bang the bed with my fist. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _SHIT_. Wiping the sweat from my upper lip, I carefully peel the condom away from my still hot, swollen penis. I flush it away along with my dignity. Pulling up the black boxers, my fingers brush the mask. Do I really have to wear this? Those were the rules. She said so. Anyway, she will take it off, once the candles are blown out. Trouble is, tonight, it won't be long before I'm blown out myself. She's tapping on the door. "Allo, cherie. Can I come to you?" "Yes. I'm ready." *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I stand in the doorway of room 1013, feeling somewhat abashed by the deception I am continuing with this man. A deception that affords us a way to release both mine and his tension, without either of us, well one of us at least, not knowing who the other is. I knew last time we were together that we were perfect for each other. Not the trite 'fitting together like the proverbial glove' cliche, but a deeper, more meaningful togetherness. Almost as if we were meant to fit together, because there was no one else we would fit with. Whatever. Tonight, I know that Mulder will be so highly strung you could play a tune on him. God, the poor man had been to hell and back just recently, not least when he thought he'd almost killed me. Finally, he has come to terms with it and although he still blames himself, he is beginning to learn to live with it. Even so, I have had my own problems to deal with. Finding out I was a mother and then losing my little Emily. I wonder how Mulder and I have made it through these last few months. Perhaps it is because we have each other. We haven't been here with each other since that very first time. A time when the world stopped for Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, even though he didn't know it at the time. How could he have even entertained the notion that I may have seen that telephone number on his table? Let alone ring Millie to book an appointment with him. It was the perfect rouse for me. I could 'have my wicked way with him' and then go about our daily lives without me having to face him. How would he react if he knew it was me? I shudder at the thought. A sexual Dr Scully? He'd probably laugh, wouldn't understand that I too can have needs that bring me to my knees sometimes. A need of release for my body. Truth be told though, more than that. A need of him. "You ave kept to our agreement, I see." He lies before me with the mask covering his eyes. This is the one part of this whole charade I hate. Not being able to see his eyes. Those expressive mirrors of his soul. This, though, this is small price to pay for the blissful, intimate coupling of our bodies and souls. Small price. Letting the silk robe slip from my shoulders, I slide in beside him, feeling his heat as soon as I pull back the covers. Carefully, I remove the mask from his face, stroking his forehead, taking his face in my hands, peppering it with kisses that I continue to trail down his neck. "I ave missed you, cherie." "God, I've missed you too." The heat of his erection blazes a fiery trail under the silken sheets as I lie beside him, one leg lazily draped across his. I feel him clench his hands at his sides. I know he's on edge, he's flinched at every touch. I ache for him to release himself into me, knowing his need almost as if it were my own. I lean over to kiss him. He needs no further encouragement. He is on top of me, kissing me roughly, his hands exploring my body as quickly as his brain can tell them to move. This is not a night for foreplay, this is urgent. He needs a physical connection, and he needs it now. I'm under him, feeling his hot, panting breath above me. If he exploded on me here and now, I wouldn't be in the least surprised. His knee is pushing my legs apart, his fingers finding my folds. With no preamble I feel a finger in me, then two. He is panting, desperate. I know he can't wait to be inside me, but I sense he hates himself for it. I reach up and take his face in my hands, pulling it down to place a chaste kiss on his lips. "Shsh. Relax." I pull him down to rest, his erection throbbing against me. "Condom." His voice, like gravel underfoot. I shake my head, I'm barren anyway. Pushing my hand between the heat of our bodies, I find him and open myself up to him. Still, he respects me, pushing into me so slowly. He is so big, such is his need. He fills me completely, in all senses of the word. Burying himself to the hilt in me, he tenses again. He makes no move and I ask none of him. He just lies there, composing himself. When he has calmed somewhat, he moves away from me, pulling himself slowly out of my warmth. I feel him tremble with the force of his feelings. "It is okay to, how you say, let go." "Too soon. It's too soon." Let it go. Please. I need this as much as you. I feel his pain as he withdraws from me and pushes back in, time and time again. With each thrust I can feel his frustration mounting. I hold his face again, I can feel the moistness at the corners of his eyes. "God, I want this so much. Want you so much. Why can't I come?" "Something is troubling you, no?" No response. "Perraps because you're tense. Relax, cherie." "Can't." His voice is gruff with emotion. He continues to pump himself into me, eventually coming with a groan, collapsing on top of me. As he sleeps, I watch his beautiful features and wonder how in God's name another human being could ever harm him. Perhaps it is because I love him so, that I could not harm him. Or, perhaps, it's just because he's beautiful. His eyelids flutter open and I'm not quick enough to turn off the bedside light. His face is on my chest anyway, and knowing him as I do, he'll not want to face me after what he feels he's done. "You were tired, no?" I try to keep up the pretence, for just a little longer. "God, I'm sorry. I never meant for that to happen. I was just so---" Needy, Mulder? "Just so tense tonight--- I don't normally treat a woman like that. I'm just so ---." He draws his hands across his face. "Tense." I stroke the silky softness of his hair, drawing my arms around him. "Something is troubling you, is it not?" No reply. "You can tell me you know." "I have a strange job. Stressful. Dangerous at times. I have a partner. A woman. Sometimes I wonder if I'd make it through without her. She'd lay down her life for me." My breath catches in my chest. "This is not good?" "Oh, yes, it is very good." I tighten my arms around him again. "So, what is problem? You have fight?" "Oh, no, nothing like that. She's been through hell. Even though her cancer's in remission, she just lost any hope of a future. The kind of future she deserves. A husband and child, you know, normal stuff. Then I --- I almost killed her, accidentally, but it just cemented how I feel about her." He stops and buries his face in the valley between my breasts, his voice hoarse with tears. "It's all my fault. If she hadn't come to work with me." I feel the dampness of his tears against my skin. "I don't know what I'd do without her. I almost lost her before, to the cancer." Oh God, Mulder. "But you didn't, did you?" "Something saved her, I like to think it was me. I prayed for her to live." His voice holds in the depth of his feeling, raw emotion beginning to surface. He lies close to me, shivering just a little, being held in my arms as if this is all he's ever lived for. "I was lost ---" "I know." I've done it now, haven't I? So, I ask the ultimate question. "Does she know that you love her?" "Soon. Very soon." There is a newfound confidence in his voice as he leans over toward the bedside lamp and switches it off, rolling on his side towards me, encircling me in his arms. I move and feel his need press against me. His breathing quickens. I feel warm, moist lips seek out my own and travel down to my breasts. The warmth spreads instantly from my belly and coils its way down to my center. Slowly, he runs a finger down along my hip and then circles around to tease my inner thigh. That is enough for both of us. Strong arms embrace me, tightly, squeezing the life blood from me as surely as he pumps the life blood through me. His mouth comes to rest in my hair. His voice strangled, his need, his desire so urgent. "I need you. So much." "I know. I need you too, Muld---." My body tenses as I realise my mistake. The air hangs thick between us, a charged expectancy. Before I can say more, soft, full lips come down on mine. He murmurs into my mouth. "I've waited --- so long. Too long." He peppers my neck with soft, sweet kisses, bringing his luscious lips back to mine briefly and then nuzzles into my neck. "Je taime." I have neither breath, nor senses to speak, my head reeling from his words. I tell him the depth of my love for him by my actions. Pulling his body astride mine, I offer myself up, sheathing his swollen silk into the rich depths of my warm, velvet arbour. He is home. He kisses me tenderly, pulling away from me to pant as he drives us both nearer to that imaginary cliff, ready to freefall. Knowing there, as we come to rest at the bottom, we will find the sanctuary we both need. Both of our bodies exploding together. We lie in each others arms, spent and tired. Gentle caresses, featherlight kisses, whispered endearments behind silk. The warmth of our bodies making covers unnecessary, but the silk sheets feeling erotic on our warm skin. Together we have risen above ourselves, soared into the night, before plummeting into the rich velvetsilk of each other, finding there the delights and pleasures that only lovers can. Each with the other. For the other. Of the other. Sated _and_ abated. At last. THE END "A beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings in vain." From 'Shelley' by Matthew Arnold Doesn't that just sum up Mulder's quest beautifully? Thank you for reading thus far. Any comments to Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com