Title: The Amazing Muldeeni Author: Kimogen Spoilers: Orison and the Amazing Maleeni Rating: R for sex (NC-17 if you are particularly sensitive) Summary: Throughout the episode The Amazing Maleeni, Mulder and Scully can't stop smiling. What if the events of Orison had led to a turn in the relationship? Disclaimer: These characters are the property of someone undoubtedly richer than me. Which isn't hard right now. Authors notes: This is in response to Sam's comment that there weren't any post-ep's to this episode. So, utterly devoid of slash and kitty porn, here it is... Feedback is framed and hung with my high-school diploma: Kimogen5@hotmail.com ------------------------------------------------- I suppose I should have been glad for the light relief of the Maleeni case, especially after the fiasco with our friend Mr. Pfaster. As it was, I was more than a little apprehensive about our first venture back into the field. You see, contrary to popular belief, my pretty little partner and I do not share a physical relationship. Scratch that, did not. We do now. Oh yeah, I'd call it physical. I guess I have Pfaster to thank for our new physical status, given that it was the trauma that sent Scully slightly round the bend. She was the picture of composure whilst we dealt with the authorities, packed her things and traipsed back to my apartment. It was when the door closed behind us that things got a little weird. 42 Hegal Place Alexandria 21:56 I slammed the door behind us and flipped on some lights, setting Scully's bags by the door. She stood over by the window, looking out onto the darkened street. She had been quite since it had all happened, but I was willing to give her some space. Scully will not be pushed into talking about these things. In fact, I gave up trying to make her talk a long time ago. Call it lessons learnt. Silhouetted against the bare window, I could see her trembling. I paused only for a moment before moving towards her and turning her around. Sometimes contact is the only thing for it. Even at the risk of being shoved away. But she didn't push me away. She leant her weight into my chest and let the tears come. She sobbed hard into my chest for hours that night. Don't even ask me how we ended up consummating five years of partnership that night. All I remember is embracing her by the light of the streetlamps, and then carrying her shaking body to the bedroom. I guess you could say the rest is history. We spent the next two days in limbo as I tried to help her forget the nightmares. She slept in my arms like a tiny child, waking both of us with her nightmares. I hushed her back to sleep a hundred times in those few days, smoothing her hair away from her face and bathing her clammy flesh with kisses. We talked very little, besides whispered sweet-nothings and declarations of love that would never be uttered outside of the bedroom. After those two days, she insisted on returning to her apartment, and I heard very little from her for the next week as Kersh had her on enforced leave pending standard Bureau psyche evaluation. I left her daily messages on both her cell phone and her home phone. I sent her emails every hour under the pretence of keeping her updated. She sent short text messages to my cell, telling me that she just needed some time to adjust. Needless to say, I spent the week pacing the floor of my office and avoiding the rumpled sheets in a bedroom redolent with her perfume and the unmistakable scent of sex. Xxx Therefore, I believe I was justified in feeling a little apprehensive about meeting her on the pier that day. I had purposely flown ahead, leaving her the file and a cryptic message, along with her airline tickets. I tried to tell myself that I was giving her space, allowing her to make the decision to come in my absentia. As soon as I saw her face through the opposite window of Maleeni's battered old van, I knew I had nothing to worry about. She quickly mirrored my posture and I knew that things were going to be fine between us. The banter came as naturally as it had from day one, the sexual energy between us crackling in the air. I was glad that it was still there, making my skin prickle, even across the cab of the old VW. She still made my pulse race with the little quirk at the corner of her mouth, indicating her suppressed smile, even after the mysteries of her body had been revealed to me. My teasing quickly drew out the incredulous, disbelieving tone in her voice and its coordinating facial expression that I now know Scully saves for when she is feeling flirtatious. My stomach knotted like never before as she lent over my arm to see the tiny video screen, brushing her breasts against me. I felt, more than heard, her breath hitch at our proximity. She couldn't even look me in the eye as we spoke. I know how exposed she felt, as we stood there, scrutinised by local law enforcement. I felt like everyone there knew. The thought made me blush slightly, as she amazed me with her teasing expression and lilting tone as she tottered off to empty a trash can. She called me sceptical, the comment tossed over her shoulder. I followed quickly behind her as she leant over the dustbin, taking advantage of the situation to lean in close and growl in her ear, "That's not what you called me the other night." She stiffened beside me, almost imperceptibly, but I saw it. My breath caught in my throat as I realised that I had blown it, suddenly knowing that she wanted to forget about it. Xxx My partner can be such a loser sometimes. If he weren't so cute, I'd have got rid of him long ago. As it is, he endeared himself to me long ago. So I guess we're stuck together. Oh, and he's recently proved himself as nothing short of a deity in the sack. When he whispered to me over a trash can (ever the romantic), I realised that things weren't going to be as easy as I'd anticipated. The way I'd figured it, work would be one thing, and what we did on our own time would be another matter. But that barrier suddenly wasn't so defined. We would have to have words about that later. In the meantime, he had that injured puppy look on his face that women can't resist, myself apparently included. I knew instantly that he had misread my lack of response and knew I had to rectify quickly. I didn't want him moping all day. That just gets annoying. So I sidled up to him, under the pretence of allowing him to examine the paper cup in my hand and whispered a few choice words to him too. Something dirty about having to change my underwear if he did it again. I knew he'd be sporting wood for an hour over that one, but his face registered the double-edged meaning. He wouldn't be trying that on the job again. I performed my autopsy and we went back to the motel. I was tired and cranky after such a long day. Besides, I still hadn't reamed him out about leaving me in DC whilst he caught the early flight out. He knows I hate flying alone. He was researching over the internet when I finally got back from the coroner's office. The paperwork had given me a headache and I demanded that he gave me a massage whilst I read over his findings. He sensed my mood (clever boy), and ordered pizza for me (well trained too). As I scarfed down three slices, I remembered briefly how I managed to get so fat during out first two years together. Mulder keeps fit by running, but I've never been able to keep up with him. Endless hours in the gym bore the crap out of me. I hope that we can burn off some calories together now. Under the pretence of telling him off for leaving me (again, bad boy), I waited until he was suitably chastised and adequately repentant. Then I had him strip naked and sit in the chair in the corner of the room. He could barely hide his glee as he peeled off his trousers, undid his tie, and shrugged out of his white dress shirt. He sat with his legs sprawled wide in front of him, his ludicrous erection standing straight out from his body. Laughable though the male of the species is, he was utterly beautiful in the lamplight of yet another scummy motel. My own nerve endings were twitching as I stalked closer to him and stood between his legs. I unbuttoned my shirt as slowly as I could manage and slipped it off, having left my jacket behind long ago. Mulder's hands closed around my waist as soon as it was bare, but I slapped them away, tutting and pouting. The skirt was next, slid to the floor in a rustle of expensive satin lining. The underwear was really exquisite actually, one of my favourite sets. Simple, but paired with the little bikini panties and hold-ups, it was deadly. Mulder actually groaned. I could see us in the mirror over the dresser and I barely recognised myself. In the moment I was distracted, Mulder saw his chance and had me pinned to the bed before I had realised what was going on. He was growling as he unwrapped me, peeling away my underwear like a greedy child ready to get to the gift inside. I barely had time to register my nudity and his long fingers were making me come. His mouth joined them and I was moaning again quicker that I could catch my breath. By the time he slid his length inside me, I had forgotten my own name, let alone his. He fucked me with true intent, grunting and panting with his efforts. My body evidently cannot resist, because I came again, something I had believed utterly impossible. Two orgasms? Orgasms from missionary sex? Mulder still hadn't come himself and I was beginning to wonder if he ever would. He pushed my legs up to my shoulders, deepening the penetration and changing the angle. I think I actually screamed that time. Finally, he thrust into me hard, bottoming out against my cervix and making me moan with the mixture of pleasure and pain. Then, finally, he was coming. The heat of his climax almost drew me over again, but my exhausted body couldn't quite manage the release. We collapsed, a mass of sticky limbs and heaving chests. There was no need for discussion. We were both asleep within minutes. Xxx Nothing with Scully had ever been simple. I suppose it was some sort of reward that sex would be so inexplicably good. I've been blessed with a strong, athletic body and what I gather is an above-average penis. Technique is something I've never had complaints over either. I guess some of us are just born good at sex. Lucky me. I haven't exercised this theory in quite some time, mind you. Apparently it's like riding a bike. But it has never, ever been this good. Scully's tiny little body could have been made for me. She fits me like a well-made Armani suit. Every curve perfect. Her breasts are just big enough for my palms, my tongue slots nicely into her navel...amongst other anatomical correlations. I believe that I am now understanding the height discrepancy. It was all part of the bigger picture. But now back to work. I believe that La Bonge was going for invasion of personal space when he placed that top-hat on her head. Luckily for him, I am the master of such disrespect, and as a result, Scully is immune to it. Otherwise, he would have been spitting teeth. In his attempt to control the situation, he just succeeded in making me hard. She looked so indescribably cute in that hat, like my own little play-boy bunny. I would have to remember that for later. Back to the job. I had to look away quickly, before I got too carried away and locked LaBonge in the van whilst I had my way with her against the side of it. Never a good idea. Back to the job. Thankfully, when I glanced up, the hat was gone, held in the hand that rested on her hip. Still I was having images of her in stockings and a tuxedo jacket. Down boy. Back to the job. Only, she has this slice of red hair, part of the top layer, that has been disturbed by the hat. I can see where it flipped up and over on itself and now serves to make her hair look tousled. How would believe it, Dana Scully with tousled hair? I try my hardest to concentrate then, even managing to form a cohesive sentence from time to time. A little detective work thrown in to make it look as though I am capable of higher brain function whilst trying to conceal an erection in public. I manage to identify Pinchbeck's marker. All the while thinking about how Scully's hair looks spread over my pillow. Xxx More pizza that evening, followed by some good- natured arguing over the case. Then he insisted on supervising my shower. I ended up with a bump on my head from the shower nozzle that I know I would never have got without his chaperoning. I never would have got it because the only way my head could reach that high was by him lifting me there in an attempt to impale my slippery body with his own, equally slippery body. Needless to say, he was insistent on keeping me up all night, standard procedure with a concussion he joyfully informed me. I was in such a rush the next morning, I couldn't find my white bra and ended up with a black one on under my white top. I sense a conspiracy. Mulder didn't make eye contact with me once that day. I know he was trying to figure out whether it was demi-cut or balconnette. I showed him later. After all, he did solve the mystery of whether Mulder was a boxers or briefs guy. I won money down at the Bureau once I could prove that. Xxx My little minx of a partner has shown me a number of magic tricks during our time together. She once did something nasty with a bug, making me think she ate it. Then there was that little trick with turning her hand all the way round. Again, nasty. So, to teach her a lesson, I'm taking her quickly back to the motel to show her something nasty. If her wrists are nearly as flexible as she would like me to believe from that little `sleight-of hand,' I'm in for a fun- filled evening. Strange how things change. The End!!