From: Terma99@aol.com
Date: Mon, 27 Sep 1999 02:50:22 EDT
Subject: NEW:Scent of a Woman-IV-Tiramisu (1/4) by Terma99
Source: xff


TITLE: Scent of a Woman IV--Tiramisu (1/4)
AUTHOR: Terma99 
EMAIL: terma99@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer-YES! 
Clinique's Chaos, XFFFA-YES!
Anywhere else-YES! But be kind and let me know about it.
SPOILERS FOR THIS SERIES: Triangle/Dreamland/Monday
RATING: NC-17 (it's about time already!)
CLASSIFICATION: MSR
SUMMARY: Our beloved agents bring those flights of fantasy to life.
POST DATE: 9/25/99

MY NOTES: This is the final part IV of a four part MSR titled "Scent of 
a Woman." Please read stories in order for maximum "effect."
Scent of a Woman I
Scent of a Woman II-The Nest
Scent of a Woman III-Dinner
Scent of a Woman IV-Tiramisu

and coming in a few days...
Atoll--a sort of sequel.

To find missing installments, visit:
www.geocities.com/hotsprings/8334/fic.html
Scent is under the MSR/RST section.

SPECIAL THANKS: to my suck 'o meter monitors: Sue (my alpha 
beta who was kind enough to give this fic a squidge factor of 15), 
Susanne (for all her ROTFL comments), Lydia (for dubbing me "
oral queen"), Kel (for the ::thuds::), Robbie (for entertaining 
the Flying Elvi and getting the dessert on the right fingers), and 
Deb (for doing a panic beta on a Sunday afternoon). This fic 
would not have been possible without them. Give 'em a hand!

DEDICATED: To all the rabid Scent readers who have begged, 
threatened and screamed for me to finish this over the entire 
seven month process. Sorry it took so long. I tried to make it 
worth the wait.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Moose and Squirrel, but tonight 
I'm letting them make that naked pretzel. All regards to 1013, 
FOX, and such for providing the fodder for my dirty little mind. 

FEEDBACK: Send me a Mulder clone!  
Terma99@aol.com 

PS: This fic was brought to you by the makers of Julia Has 
Two Lovers. Now I've been at this for quite some time now, 
and thought I had been inspired by every last second of film 
that has ever been graced by Mr. Duchovny's succulent bod. 
Somehow I MISSED this one. I don't know how--I don't know 
why. But don't ask how many times I watched David bounce 
up those stairs in nothin' but a pair of tight little gray briefs 
last night. Holy mother of...anyway, on with the smut!


Scent of a Woman IV--Tiramisu

by Terma99


"I'm so attracted to the primitive way a woman smells. It's 
the ultimate aphrodisiac, something each woman has that 
nobody else does." 

--David Duchovny, Glamour Magazine




If Fox Mulder was ever uncertain as to the degree of distraction 
a woman could drive him to, he was fully aware of it now. It 
felt like an obscene amount of time had passed since he bid 
his partner farewell at the curb, and time was something he 
dearly wanted to conserve. Tonight was everything he'd 
dreamed about for the better part of six years: Dana Scully 
was going to be in his apartment, in his bed, with him, all night. 
His lips missed hers. He couldn't wait to spend at least a 
full uninterrupted sixty minutes just kissing...

HONK!

Oops. Who'd he cut off now? A rearview mirror check afforded 
him the silhouette of the middle finger of the driver behind 
him. Mulder's blind spot had nearly doubled in size, probably 
a byproduct of arousal. He needed to focus if he was going to 
have any luck making it home in one piece, or even finding 
his home, which was growing more elusive by the minute. 
He'd missed his exit daydreaming about lapping at the hollow 
of her throat, and was now backtracking through a maze of 
one-way side streets. 

At least he'd *found* the car, he congratulated himself. Don't 
even ask where his head had been while trying to remember 
which street he'd parked on before dinner. Why the hell 
didn't he take the $150 towing fee and just ride home with 
her? Because that most certainly *would* have resulted in a 
moving violation.

Also, it didn't help that he seemed to have forgotten every 
Eastern mind and circulatory soothing technique he'd ever 
mastered. A nice anxious lump had taken up residence in 
his throat while an accompanying permanent throb had 
settled deep in his groin. Was it possible to perish from 
anticipation? If he missed the next light he was certain to 
find out.

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

Keys. They were in his hand when he left the car, weren't they? 
The elevator was grinding its way toward the fourth floor at a 
sloth's climb, while Mulder patted himself down for a familiar 
jingle. All he needed right now was to lock himself out of both 
his apartment and his car. The coat pocket clinked--bingo. 

The elevator door binged and opened. Mulder glanced 
nervously into the hall. Empty. His insecurity accelerated 
as he moved into it. She'd probably let herself in, but a part 
of him feared she'd given this whole event second thoughts 
and had sped off in the opposite direction toward Georgetown. 

He reached his door and tried the knob. Secured. He opened 
his hand and looked at the ring of keys he held in his palm. 
This was it, the moment of truth. Either she was in there or 
she wasn't. His fear of rejection kept him from unlocking the 
door just yet. He touched the cold varnished surface--it was 
quiet beyond the frame. He glanced behind him at the dusty 
floor of the hall. It didn't take much to remember holding her 
as she slumped to the tile gasping for breath not so many 
months ago. 

Run, Scully, I'm the poisoned apple, he thought. But if she 
ever did, there was no doubt in his mind he'd run right after 
her. There was no escaping this; it had been a long time 
coming and there had been plenty of opportunity for both 
of them to stop the ride and get off. Somehow they just kept 
getting back in line.

For better or for worse, he unlocked the door and with a 
practiced shove, it opened.

On the floor directly at his feet was a thin scrap of black 
lace, casting a deep shadow into his apartment. It confused 
him a second and he bent and looped his finger through it, 
lifting it for a closer inspection. Glancing up, he saw the dim 
green table lamp was turned on, shaded by a matching black 
brassiere. The lump in his throat tightened as it dawned on 
him that this was more than a trail of breadcrumbs. Her slip 
was tossed over the arm of the couch and her sweater was 
folded neatly next to her shoes and skirt on the coffee table. 
The heater was blaring. It could only mean one thing. 
Somewhere in this apartment, his partner was waiting for 
him. Naked.


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

The bed she had occupied just a few nights ago was now 
seasoned with a light musky touch of Mulder. Nude between 
his sheets, she impatiently rolled about, the soft cotton 
slipping over her shoulders and thighs, like she dreamed 
his lips would soon be doing. She rolled onto her back and 
saw herself reflected in the canopy mirror. She hadn't 
anticipated sleeping here alone again. What on earth was 
taking him so long? This *was* the apartment they'd agreed 
upon.

Scully shifted her legs--she was still wet and soft from his 
kisses. God, that kiss in the restaurant had nearly melted her 
spine. Under the smooth caress of the sheets, she ached to 
touch what was stirring between her thighs. Her hand brushed 
impatiently over her hip and down to cup over her curls. She 
wasn't sure she could keep herself from starting without him. 
His hand had been on her breast about like this...

She heard his distinctive shuffle in the hall and froze. Silence. 
Her heart instantly kicked into overdrive, making listening for 
him difficult. There was nothing for several long seconds. Then 
she heard the rattle of keys and the angry complaint of the door 
as it was shoved open. She heard him take a step in and stop. 
She smiled. He must have found her gifts.

She heard a muffled sound next, a sigh, or was it a series of 
deep breaths? She imagined him bringing the lace of her 
garments to his nose. She swallowed the moan in her throat 
and rolled onto her stomach. Don't move, she reminded 
herself. Don't move.

The lamp was turned off with a click and the only sound was 
his slow step as he walked the length of his living room. She 
wet her lips, waiting as he turned about, and soon she was 
aware he had entered the bedroom, pausing for a moment in 
the doorway. Her eyes closed, and she pressed her cheek 
against the pillow, trying to still the trembling in her hands.

"I want you a hundred different ways."

His words, low and rough, paralyzed her. Terrified her and 
thrilled her. Yes, she thought, yes, god, yes. But she lay still 
and listened to him pull his shirt up over his head and toss 
it to the floor, followed by the fall of his shoes and then the 
unmistakable sound of his zipper being drawn. Was he hard? 
She wanted to know. Was he as desperate for this as she was? 
Could she look now? Could she move? 

She flinched as the covers were thrown back and in one 
graceful move he lay down next to her, skin to skin. Very 
naked, very warm, and yes indeed, very aroused. The touch 
of the hairs on his chest tickled her backbone as he gathered 
her to him, pressing his groin against her bottom, the hot 
length of him settling against her. His lips were soft against 
her neck as he held her, his arms tightening around her, his 
knees coming up under hers in a fetal hold. 

His embrace held a combination of lust and reverence 
unlike anything she had ever felt from him. Once pressed 
together, neither of them moved and she could feel his 
heart thudding against her. A tremor rippled through him 
and he inhaled brokenly, like he was trying to gain dominance 
over something deep within him. She pressed herself tighter 
to him, sighing her acceptance, and his breathing slowed. He 
began to relax. 

"I want to take this slowly, Scully," he whispered. "I want to 
make love to you completely."

She rolled her head against the pillow. The spell was breaking. 
She could speak again.

"How long, Mulder?"

"Hours..."

"I'll explode before then."

"Then explode--you'll be beautiful when you come apart."

She loosened his hold and made to turn over, but he stopped 
her with a gentle press of his hand on the small of her back.

"Lie still," he whispered. "Don't turn over yet. I want to touch 
you."

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

She's found her way into my mind, he thought, as he touched 
the petal soft skin of her back with long strokes of his hand. 
This was a perfect reenactment of his most recent and vivid 
dream cycle--all about her sleeping naked next to him--just 
holding each other without words. The reality of feeling her 
against him, and how warm she had made his bed, had nearly 
brought him to tears. He loved her too much, he knew that, 
and he'd need to get a grip on those feelings if he was going 
to show her half the lover he knew he could be. Tonight was 
about sharing pleasure--the humbling gratitudes could come 
later.

Her skin was so pale, so warm. He touched her, brushing his 
fingertips, his palm, the back of his hand, over the subtle 
terrain of shoulder blade, hip and spine. She was lying still 
and compliant, breathing in little puffs through parted lips, 
her hand tucked under her chin like a child. He was desperate 
for her mouth, but for now he was introducing her to his touch.

He leaned up on his elbow and reached down to touch the 
arch of her foot, dragging his fingers up the firm but feminine 
skin and muscle of her calf and the back of her thigh. He 
spread his hand and smoothed it over the gorgeous roundness 
of her ass, squeezing gently. She sighed a moan, and although 
she was obviously trying very hard to lie still, quivered under him.

Keeping his touch on her back slow and even, he rested his 
body along hers, letting his nose fall into her hair, finally 
giving into the indulgence of arousing himself with her scent. 
She'd always smelled like this--a complexity of female musk 
and skin-seasoned perfume--it followed her everywhere in a 
faint heavenly cloud. He loved those mornings when she 
arrived at work ahead of him, fresh and clean, filling their 
small office with the light smell of shampoo, perfume and coffee. 

Lying side by side, he slipped his other arm under her and 
with both hands, began to gently explore her front. He couldn't 
see her face in this position, so he just let his hands wander 
over her, closing his eyes, breathing in her skin. He traced the 
line of her jaw, and with the back of his curved fingers, he 
stroked her chin and neck. He ran his thumb across her lips 
and groaned when her hot tongue slipped out to taste him. 

His hands moved lower to the rise of her breasts and with 
care, he explored the soft pliable contours. Lifting her 
breasts gently, he slid his fingers under them, raising and 
lowering them. He allowed himself the rush of squeezing 
and teasing the tight little peaks, his hips returning her 
subtle sway against him. 

His palms felt the slope of her belly and moved lower until 
his fingertips met the soft tuft below her bellybutton. He 
gave it only a moment's consideration before he slipped 
one long index finger between her lips. God, there was 
wetness, heat, liquid--his cock resounded with the stimulation 
and he pulled back. That was an area he would visit later. 
For now he was satisfied to know she was ready for him. 
But right now he was going to lose his mind if he didn't 
kiss her.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, he kissed his way 
around her chin, rolling her under him until he found her 
mouth and kissed it softly like he had every Monday and 
Friday for the past two blissful months. With that same 
light touch, he kissed her all over her face. Faster than he 
wanted, his mouth sought her nose, her cheek, her eyelids. 
Her impatient fingers laced into his hair and tugged at him 
until his lips fell heavily over her mouth, opening to him.

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

Finally, he was kissing her--deeply, ravenously. Their whole 
sensory universe was reduced to lips and tongues and soft 
moans. His sweet touches all around her naked body had 
been as frustrating as they were arousing--all she wanted 
was to kiss him. Kissing Mulder meant telling him intimately 
how much she needed him, valued him, desired him, all 
without words. Their mouths fused eagerly together, 
communicating long years of restraint and denied phrases 
in a lick, a nibble, a feint, a pleasingly sloppy smooch. 

His fingers held her face as he lifted her chin to kiss and 
suck her neck, but she gripped his hair and pulled him off. 
She wasn't finished with his mouth yet, as he moved back 
and she pushed herself up to get back at it. 

They were sitting up now--a long arm wrapped around her, 
his hand curved under her ass--the other holding her head, 
as they continued their oral expressions. Her nails traced 
over his shoulders. He moaned and tilted her head back, 
diving deeply into her mouth, kissing her from one angle 
and then the other, rubbing his nose against hers. His lips 
were full and warm and wet, and at some point in his life 
Mulder had learned how to use his quick-witted tongue to 
its full advantage, licking her lips and sucking them like 
they were candy. It felt so damn good she started to feel 
a giggle rising in her.

Her laugh broke him off and he grinned at her, lips slick 
and out of breath. "What?"

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted you to kiss 
me like this?"

"You're worth the wait," he said, dragging his thumb over 
her lower lip, testing its pliancy. "We've got a good fifty 
years to go. I might get my fill of you by then." Pulling her 
onto his lap, he started to make good on that promise.

There was no more talking for a long while until Mulder 
pressed her back into the mattress beneath them, not unlocking 
her lips from his until her legs found their way around his 
hips and they were beginning to rock against each other, 
both panting for air. 

"How we doing on time?" he asked, catching a breath while 
kissing her throat and taking that long-awaited lap at its 
pale hollow base.

"Time?" She could see him in the mirror, his sleek muscled 
back moving over her, his hand sliding up to touch her breast.

"I promised myself at least an hour or more of your mouth 
before moving along to the next course."

"I see. Sorry, forgot the stopwatch."

"God, I'm beginning to sweat already. What the heck did you 
do to the thermostat?" Hot air was still blowing up from the 
floor, stirring the curtains. It felt like summer in March.

She hugged him, pressing his cheek to her chest, running her 
hands up and down his dewy back while he took a minute to 
fondle and kiss her breasts. "I like you sweaty; you smell good, 
just like after a run."

He looked up at her, a nipple popping out of his mouth. 
"You've... sniffed me?"

"Every chance I got." 

He grinned. "Well, I'd rather not lose the majority of my 
bodily fluids through my skin tonight. I'll be right back." 
He kissed her soundly on the mouth, and got up off the bed, 
erection bobbing steadily in the moonlight as he walked out 
into the next room. Scully sat up, keeping her eyes on him 
until he moved out of view. He was amazing. She couldn't 
wait to get her mouth on that thing. She decided she wasn't 
going to let him back in the bed until she did.

The curtains soon stilled and Scully could hear him opening 
a cupboard in the kitchen and filling a glass with water. She 
could hear him gulping it down and refilling the glass before 
he padded back to the bedroom.

*************************************
END (1/4)