Title: Dust Mites 4/4
Authors: Jori Remington and MoJo

**********


Shit.

Mulder and I look up at the ceiling, which is now sagging with water.
We watch as another patch of plaster detaches itself and lands in a
wet heap on the carpet beside his foot. Mulder starts to laugh because
that's all there is to do at this point. It's a rare sound, his
laugh...and one I could get
used to hearing a lot more often.

"Fuck," he mutters, as he dodges another clump. "The roof must be
leaking."

His laughter is infectious and now I'm laughing too. As uncontrollably
as my sneezes were.

Mulder stops and stares at me as if my laughter is a rare sound as
well. I suppose it is. He probably thought the wet drops on his face
were my tears over finally consummating our relationship. But I don't
regret it one bit. It was an absolutely, one hundred percent
mind-blowing experience and I'm still high as a kite over it. I forgot
when defining good sex that it should also be fun, not filled with
angst and guilt. He puts on an air of mock indignation as I continue
giggling like a schoolgirl.

"That better not be a reflection of my sexual prowess, Scully," he
whispers, kissing my suprasternal notch where my clavicles meet. He
knows all my erogenous zones already, he must still have some residual
psychic abilities left after all.

"Believe me," I say, letting my laughter die off into a throaty sigh
of pleasure. I tilt my head to the side and relish the feel of his
lips on my skin. "It's not. It's just this damn place. I'm beginning
to believe your Pirate Ghost has it in for us."

"I sorry about tonight," Mulder murmers, as his tongue swirls around
one erect nipple. "This isn't how I imagined this night at all. And
believe me...I've imagined it a *million* different ways. But never
once did it include power outages, tornado sirens..."

"And 'C'mon, Larry, ride me again,'" I quote, raising an eyebrow.

"'No, you ride me, Joan,'" Mulder paraphrases, lifting his head and
smiling.

Another spark of lightning illuminates his face and I fall into the
depths of his hazel eyes. The darkness normally shadowing them has
been lifted, replaced by something bright and wondrous and beautiful.
Happiness. He's just as happy we did this as I am.

"You were right, Mulder," I say, with complete conviction. I raise my
hand up and lay it on his cheek, running my thumb over his lips. "I've
never been with the right person before."

Those eyes shine brighter now and I hope what I'm seeing in them is
merely a reflection of what he's seeing in mine.

"Are you saying...after all this time...," Mulder teases, shifting me
to the left to avoid more plaster as it comes splashing down. "You
believe one of my theories?"

"Don't get cocky, Mulder," I quip, suppressing a smile at the double
meaning.

"Too late, Scully," he muses, glancing down at his member.

The thunder shakes the walls as he lowers his head to my other nipple.
My head falls back against the mirror as I give myself over to his
ministrations. His shoulders and arms are covered in scratches from my
nails, the marks of his lover. I smile, happy with my new designation.
We
are now partners in every definition of the word. I suppose I should
agonize over how this will effect our working relationship but why
should I? The world didn't end this time either.

*Ka-thlump*

I look up at gaping hole in the ceiling. The plaster lost its fight
against the water and now there is a steady stream pouring in and onto
the mite-infested carpet. Okay. Maybe the world is ending. I hope
Mulder knows how to make an ark.

*Knock*

Mulder's head snaps back up as we both glare at the door.

The polite knock is replaced by a series of loud banging that seems
strangely familiar in its rhythm.

Like the cell phone, we wait patiently for it to stop. Like the cell
phone, it doesn't.

"I know you're in there," bellows Larry. "Quit your damn laughing!
People are trying to sleep next door!"

"That son of a bitch," groans Mulder, resting his forehead on my
stomach in defeat.

"Let it go," I say, running my fingers through his hair. I lower my
lips to kiss the crown of his head. Mulder stands up and looking in
the direction of the door as a smirk curls the corners of his mouth.

"Has the Viagra worn off, Larry?" Mulder shouts back, winking at me.
"Cause people are trying to sleep over here too!"

"Hey pal," Larry snaps, ignoring Mulder. "We've got to drive to
Florida in the morning and would appreciate it if you and your
girlfriend would keep it quiet, huh?"

I have to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing again.

"He's got some balls saying that to us, doesn't he?" Mulder whispers
and I can't hold in my laughter.

"He certainly does," I choke out, trying to quiet down. But I can't.
"Just ask Joan."

All this additional laughter must be pissing Larry off even more. He
starts pounding on the door.

"We'll try," Mulder calls out, between burst of his own laughter.
Finally, Larry gives up and goes away.

"Viagra. Definitely must be Viagra," I say, holding my aching sides.

"You think?" Mulder asks playfully. His bare feet squish against the
wet carpet. "He could be their new poster boy instead of Dole."

He leans his face into mine and kisses me quiet, laughter subsiding
with every touch of his lips until we are once again struggling for
air. My hands wander down his flat stomach and I am pleasantly
surprised to find Larry isn't the only one who's gotten riled up.

I wrap my fingers around his shaft, rotating my thumb so it can work
against his head. I dip into the little 'v' and back out again, proof
of a Jewish upbringing he has long since abandoned. All the while,
that damn steady stream of water keeps saturating the carpet. I'm
afraid the entire ceiling
might collage. We have to get out of here.

"I have an idea, Mulder," I whisper seductively between kisses.

"You do?" he asks, anticipating more of my lip service. But instead, I
withdraw my hand. He groans as I slide off the dresser and onto the
wet carpet.

"Follow me," I say, heading for the adjacent door. I reach for the
knob, hoping we can shimmy the lock or something and get to the safety
of his room where we aren't sharing a wall with Larry and Joan, the
bed is in one piece and the ceiling is still intact.

"Wait, Scully," he says quickly. He rushes to catch my hand before I
make contact with the knob. He repositions me so my palms are splayed
flat on the door instead.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" I ask, and he presses his body against
my back. Mulder moves my knees apart spreadeagle as if he's going to
frisk me.

"Hands where I can see them. If you move them, I'm going to stop," he
threatens, voice hot in my ear. My heart begins to pound at his sudden
impulsiveness. I lay my cheek against door and watch him out of the
corner of my eye.

"Stop what?" I breathe, wondering what he's going to do.

"This," he says, sweeping the hair off my shoulder and exposing the
nape of my neck. He lowers his lips to that sensitive area, feathering
soft angel kisses everywhere. "I've still got a little refraction time
to kill."

"Not much," I moan, feeling the growing hardness. Mulder drops to his
knees and runs that pouty lower lip down my spine, making me shudder
with delight.
"Can't we finish this is your room? In your bed?"

My nails scrape down the wood as I try to reach the knob. Again he
stops me.

"Don't make me handcuff you, Scully," Mulder warns, standing up and
pressing himself into my buttocks. He lifts my arms by the elbows and
moves them higher again.

"I don't carry handcuffs, Mulder," I remind him.

"Too bad," he teases, kissing my shoulder. He slips himself between my
thighs, teasing me further by brushing himself along my folds. I
forget all about his bed right now. I don't think I can wait that
long. I arch my back and lift my hips, inviting him to take me again.

I gasp as he does just that, the difference in our height making for
the perfect leverage. I lean into the door as he slips in and out of
me, stimulating a whole new set of nerves from this angle. Deep,
wordless sounds fill the room as we make love one again. We must be
made to fit together. I close my eyes and let the emotions sweep over
me, taking control of both my mind and my heart.

"Mulder," I exhale, the words slipping off my tongue just as quickly
as they form in my mind. "I love you."

*********

Sh . . shit.

Did she just say what I think she said? I'm sure she did. I know she
did. Suddenly, what we are doing doesn't matter anymore and I slip out
of her. I spin her around so she's facing me and I'm speechless. Yeah.
Me.

"Did you hear me? I love you, Mulder," she says again, just a little
louder this time, in case I missed it the first time. I didn't. I
couldn't have. Not even with the thunder. Not even through the sirens
blaring.

"I heard you," I say, pulling her to me, encircling her in my arms and
holding her tight. "I love you, too, Scully.

We stand like that, rocking in rhythm to the rain and plaster
splashing down next to us. I have no idea how they will ever get that
off of the shag carpet. I don't care just as long as they don't charge
my credit card for it. I'm still paying the FBI back for one small
trip to the ends of the earth and for a snow cat rental. Right at the
moment, it is worth every penny that will be garnished out of my wages
until 2034.

Her leg comes up around me, and I lift her, pressing her back to the
door. Now she can wrap both legs around my waist as I sink into her
again. She is warm and soft and she feels as comfortable as home. It
is as if we've been together forever yet everything is new.

Scully's arms cling tight around my neck as I thrust into her again
and again. I can't believe this is what I convinced myself I couldn't
have for all these years . . . it has been so close and I've been to
scared to make the move. Instead, I've relegated myself to nights of
cold leftover Chinese food, hours of stale porn and sleepless nights
of playing Quake III and Star Fleet Command.

"Tell me why you love me?" I ask, looking at her beautiful face
covered with pleasure. I don't know why I asked. I guess some part of
me is unsure as to why she would be with me. I know I'm not
undesirable, but why now?

"Mulder . . ." she nearly purrs, trying to get out of this, but I
won't let her.

"You tell me and I'll tell you," I whisper to her as I slow my thrusts
down. I could spend hours like this just to make up for the lost
years. We *will* be making up for lost time. I think both of us are
owned a few weeks of vacation.

"You'll tell me why you love you? I think I know," she jokes, smiling
as I push her closer to the door for better leverage.

"I'll tell you why I love you . . ."

"I . . . I just . . ." she starts to say, shutting her eyes as I
thrust into her harder. Her tongue rests lightly on the corner of her
mouth as she thinks for a moment, searching carefully for the right
words. Even now, as we are joined in the most intimate way possible,
she's still so Scully. "I love you because . . . I do."

She opens her eyes and looks at me. It is the most heartfelt and
honest thing I've ever heard. Her one hand leaves its place from my
shoulder and goes to rest on my cheek. Everything before now doesn't
matter. This is it. Life has begun again right now.

Words are unnecessary; this moment transcends anything that could be
said by either of us. All I know is this: she is it for the rest of my
life. There will be no other. Yeah, I've known this for a while now. I
may look, but forget touching. Scully is everything. The stars. The
moon. They sky. The ocean.

A few more thrusts and I know it will be all over. Soon, this night
will be over, too, and we are going to have to go back to D.C. and
back to a different reality. One that doesn't embody Larry and Joan
and dust mites and tornado sirens. Instead, it will be a world where I
will have to let Scully walk into danger just like I have always done
knowing that something could happen to her. Will I be able to do it? I
will have to. She lets me go. I will have to let her go.

Scully urges me closer with her legs, her muscular thighs gripping me
tightly around my waist. Her inner muscles also constrict around me,
taking me to the very edge of control.

Her head rolls back against the door as I press into her body one more
time, finally spilling everything into her. My body throbs against
hers and I pant for air. She is silent. All I can feel is her warm
hand ever present against my cheek.

Right then the power comes back on and we both jump as something
starts thumping its way across the floor. Scully struggles to look and
I turn around, still holding her, legs still wrapped around my waist.

"Damn. The bed had Magic Fingers," she pouts, sounding rather like a
disappointed five year old with no quarters and we both start
laughing.

I gently set her down and she goes to the bathroom to get a towel to
clean up the mess we've made, wiping the moisture from her thighs.
Actually, she comes back with a handful of gray, dingy towels and
throws some down on the floor under the plaster puddle that is getting
deeper.

"Should we try getting in your room now? It has to be drier over
there. These locks can't be that hard to . . . " she says, opening her
door and finding mine standing wide open on the other side. "MULDER?"

"Um . . . I don't remember leaving . . . um . . . it open."

************

Shit.

I'm going to beat the living shit out of him.

"Your door was OPEN the entire time?" I demand, my voice cracking as
it escalates in pitch.

"I . . . guess . . . so," he mutters, rushing over to it. He inspects
the hinges thoughtfully, avoiding my icy stare. "Maybe it was the
Pirate's Ghost?"

I pick up one of the damp plaster towels and throw it at him as hard
as I can. I don't believe it. I grab another towel and nail Mulder
right in the face.

"Scully, wait," he stammers, holding his arms up to avoid another
assault. Behind us, the bed keeps jerking up and down until finally it
fizzles out. "Please, let me explain . . ."

"I don't want to hear your explanations, Mulder," I hiss, coming
closer and smacking again. He tries to catch the other end of the
towel to stop my assault. Finally, he does. Now, it becomes a tug of
war and the towel is so threadbare it starts to tear from the tension.

"Scully, hear me out . . ." Mulder continues, and the towel finally
rips. He gets a hold of my wrists and we wrestle against each other
until we both tumble into his room. He lands on his back and I quickly
get up, straddling him hard with my thighs.

"You mean to tell me we could have been in your room this entire
time?" I breathe, panting hard from the struggle.

"No, I'm saying I didn't know . . ." Mulder stutters, then he stops to
stare at me. The proverbial light goes off above his head. "Wait. What
did you just say?"

A sly smile spread across my face as I pull my hands free of his. I
let my breasts rub against his chest as I dip my face down to his. "I
said . . . *we* could have been in your room this entire time?"

"We?" he squeaks out. His hands slide up my buttocks and back, palms
flat as he presses my body against his.

"Yes, we," I clarify, parting my lips and covering his mouth with
mine. My tongue slides over his to deepen the kiss.

"Scully..." he exhales happily. "You had me. Big time."

"And I'll have you again," I say, folding my hands on his chest and
resting my chin on them. I study his face thoughtfully as he smiles up
at me, his eyes fluttering close from sheer exhaustion.

"In the morning," he pleads, raising his hands up in surrender. "The
little guy is worn out."

"In the morning," I agree, granting him his reprieve. Mulder's lips
curl back even more in knowing that I plan to pick this up right where
we left off in the morning. But right now, I want to get cleaned up.
We are both sticky, wet and sweaty from our marathon of lovemaking.
"Think there's enough hot water for bath?"

"You're finally going to draw me a bath?" Mulder asks, looking over at
the bathroom eagerly. "Damn. I bet there isn't enough. I used it up
earlier."

"How about a shower then?" I suggest, anxious to feel Mulder's soapy
hands over my body. I grind myself into his cock as an incentive.
"Think there's enough for a quick one?"

"A quick shower . . . yes," he clarifies, as I let him up off the
floor. "And maybe a quick something else if you promise to scrub
behind your ears."

He follows me into the bathroom and starts the shower. There is barely
enough room for the both of us in the tiny stall. The pipes shake as
he switches the water flow to the shower head. There is absolutely no
water pressure and it trickles out in a thin stream over Mulder's
shoulders. Does nothing work in this damn motel?

Mulder gathers me in his arms and sets me on the wide soap ledge on
the back wall of the shower. He picks up a dingy washcloth and holds
it under the water. He then lathers it up with the tiny bar of Ivory
soap.

"I guess we'll have to settle for a sponge bath," he says, easing my
knees apart.

He runs the washcloth over my nether regions, cleaning himself off me.
His touch is so reverent and gentle that I'm overwhelmed by his
sensitivity. Mulder's a romantic after all. I tilt my head to the side
and nearly drift into sleep under his ministrations. I feel so safe
with Mulder, so relaxed and so comfortable with him this way. I wonder
if it's too late to take him up on that marriage proposal. . .

His lips brush across my cheek, nuzzling me back awake. "Still with
me, Scully?"

"Always," I breathe, opening my eyes to find him staring at me. "I'll
always be with you, Mulder."

The sound of my words echo off the walls as we kiss one final time
before the pipes shake some more. Then, the shower stops working all
together.

"We're out of water," Mulder mutters, rolling his eyes at our lastest
misfortune. "Figures."

"It's been one hell of a night, hasn't it?" I ask, taking his face in
my hands.

"Best damn night of my life," he says, wrapping his arms around my
waist. I wrap mine around his neck and slide off the ledge and into
his arms.

"Mine, too," I agree wholeheartedly. I kiss a trail to his ear, then
whisper, "Let's go to bed, Mulder."

"Thought you'd never ask," he smiles.

**********

Continued in the very important epilogue

Title: Dust Mites: Epilogue
Authors: Jori Remington and MoJo

**********


Gulfport, Mississippi
6:15 a.m.

Shit.

Who the hell is banging on the door at this hour? Can't they read the
'No Vacancy - We're Closed' sign? I have got to scrape that damn 24
hour crap off the window one of these days.

I wrap my robe around me and put out my cigarette, trying to look
presentable. I open the office door to find those damn FBI agents
standing in the threshold looking like the Feds they are. At least she
isn't wearing the mandatory Fed suit under the mandatory Fed trench
coat.

"We'd like to check out," the man announces. With a smirk, he holds up
two room keys.

"You've got reservations until Saturday," I remind him, hacking back
my cough. "What's the matter? Did the storm keep you up all night?"

"No," the woman answers, pressing her lips tightly together like she's
trying not to smirk. She mutters under her breath. "Something else
kept me up all night."

"Larry and Joan?" I ask, smirking right back at them.

"You know about Larry and Joan?" the man asks, leaning on the counter
to watch me as I punch their room numbers into the computer. I smack
the monitor impatiently. Damn Commodore 64's.

"Yeah," I reply, watching his name print out on the bill. Fox Mulder.
That's his name? Who the hell would name a kid, Fox? I wonder what
else his parents did to him? "I get complaints about them all the
time. Hope it didn't detract from the..." What the hell is that word?
Oh yeah. ". . .Am-bi-ance."

"Uh, no," Fox Mulder replies, in that monotone voice of his.

"Hey, honey," I call out to the woman. She narrows her eyes at me. "I
gave you adjacent rooms, didn't I?"

"You did," she answers curtly. Her name squeals out next against the
printer ribbon. Dana Scully. What a looker she is. That Fox is one
lucky guy to be working next to that all day. She even smells good.
Strawberries or something.

"Okay," I say, tearing off my copy of the invoice. "You want me to
leave this on your charge?"

"No," Fox Mulder snaps quickly. He pulls out his wallet and slaps down
two Ben Franklins. The cost of three nights instead of just one. He
takes the invoices from me and before I can yell at his cheeky ass, he
folds them into the pocket of his trench. "Cash. I'm over my limit on
the company card."

"Uh-huh," I say, suspecting something isn't right here. But the two
Ben Franklins smiling up at me are incentives to make me forget about
it. "Nice doing business with you."

Fox Mulder smiles and pats his pocket down. "Thanks."

"Hey, can I put you on our mailing list?" I ask dryly, patting the
Commodore.

They both look at each other, then back at me.

"No," they answer in unison.

He holds the door open for her, then rests his hand on the small of
her back as he leads her out. That hand lingers there all the way out
to their fancy rental car as he digs something out of his pocket with
the other hand and sticks it in his mouth.

"Yeah, they're doing it," I mutter under my breath. After fifteen
years in the motel business, I kind of have 'sex radar' where my
guests are concerned. Probably been going at it on Uncle Sam's dime
for years now. And from the way they were looking at each other, it
must have been pretty damn good.

Ben and Ben keep looking at me. I'm sure this didn't come out of some
cash advance. Over his limit, my ass. The government likes to charge
and rack up debt. There must be some reason he didn't want me put it
on his credit card.

I wait until they are out of the parking lot and down Gulfview Drive.
I pick up their keys decided to do a little "investigating" of my own.

I light up another cigarette as I head out the door and to their
rooms. Hers is closer, so I head for it first. I shove the key in the
door and push it open.

My cigarette drops out of my mouth as I survey the room. The luxury
Magic Fingers bed is broken, the carpet is drenched and there's a
gaping hole in the ceiling where water is still pouring in. . .

"Shit. . ." is all I can say.


The End

*******

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