1-900-OH-SANTA By: Char Chaffin and TBishop Rated: NC-17 Category: MSR Lurid Fiction Summary: Scully is finding this Christmas particularly stressful until she takes matters into her own hands. (a little pun intended) Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have defected from FOX, 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. We have only given them refuge within the pages of our story. It was the humanitarian thing to do, and we refuse to be held accountable for our actions. Maybe if they were allowed to have sex with each other, they wouldn't always be running off in search of fan fic writers to provide them with some much-needed gratification. Think about it, Chris. Feedback: You know we'd love it. You can write us at either of our addy's. char@chaffin.com or fncbc@uaf.edu TBishop27@aol.com *** Thanks to the following outstanding authors, friends and 'significant others', for their wonderful beta work: Shoshana, David, Shell, Foxsong, Emania1224, and Sister Moon (who will find a special little something just for her in the storyline!) And to Webmistress Grasshopper. 1-900-OH-SANTA I'm convinced that sometimes the fates conspire in the most evil ways to torture and otherwise torment seemingly innocent beings for no greater purpose than their own wicked amusement. I have apparently been selected as their latest victim. Several factors having been brought into play to set the stage for what is, I'm sure, one hell of a great cosmic comedy starring a petite redheaded FBI agent with a flaming libido. I swear I can hear the universal laughter as I suffer through what has to be the cruelest set of circumstances they've ever dreamed up to vex any mere mortal. Yes, I'm in fine holiday spirits! Thanks to Mr. Scrooge himself, aka one Walter Skinner, Mulder and I are sitting in this Godforsaken basement on the day before Christmas Eve! I am supposed to be in California right now, surrounded by my family... Man, even Charlie got to fly home this year. I haven't seen my little brother in so long. When I spoke to Mom last night on the phone, she told me Charlie surprised everyone by bringing a 'special friend' with him. Her name is Mary Margaret... good Catholic name, Mom's sure to love her. They apparently got married just before they flew back to the States. As curious as I am to meet the woman who has stolen my brother's heart, I'm actually sort of glad I'm not there. I don't think I could take watching a couple of newlyweds fawn all over each other right now. I've been especially distracted lately. Preoccupied with sex, or I should say, the lack thereof. I'm thirty-five years old, as much as it hurts to admit that, and conventional wisdom states I am approaching my peak sexually. Like I need any confirmation of this. I feel like a bitch in heat. Oh, and the object of my most ardent fantasies hasn't the foggiest clue that I'm living in a constant state of arousal. Mulder. My partner. Mr. Oblivious. Even HE seems to be part of the plan to drive me insane. Especially him. As I sit here in my usual place, poring over the case file that was so all fucking important Skinner couldn't let us have a few days off before we began the review, Mulder is clear across the room, yet I feel like he's right on top of me. No, no... Oh, God! Why did I have to visualize that? Mulder's hot sweaty naked body on top of mine... Damn it's hot in here! I don't know how Mulder can stand it in that outfit he's wearing. He's got to be sweating bullets under that turtleneck and cashmere pullover. Not to mention the wool slacks... which incidentally, outline the strong muscles in his thighs and fit his ass to perfection. He looks wonderful... right down to his cordovan loafers, like something right off the pages of GQ. The forest green of his sweater brings out the flecks of emerald in his hazel eyes. And the cream color turtleneck shows off the tan he picked up on our trip down to Florida last week. I, of course, divided my time indoors between the morgue, autopsying victims, and the lab, analyzing evidence... leaving me pale and reeking of the not so newly-dead. Mulder has never complained about it, but I can't be very appealing after basking in Eau de Corpse for hours on end. Is it any wonder he seems to be attracted to every woman but me Why the hell didn't I think to dress casually today? There's no one around... the Bureau is mostly shut down for the holidays. FBI's most unwanted... If we're so damn unwanted, how come we never get any time off! I'm trying to concentrate on this case, I really am. But even Mulder's mother has found a way to add to my misery. My partner came to work this morning sporting a new cologne. The only way to describe this particular pheromonic concoction is to just say it bluntly... it smells like sex. That heady scent of two people joined in the act of physical coitus. It's been driving me out of my mind all morning. I'm so turned on it's embarrassing. If I get any wetter, I'm going to have to go home and change my panties. Maybe that would get his attention: 'I'm sorry, Mulder, I have to go home and freshen up, I've just come all over myself from being in the same room as you.' God, what's wrong with me? I never used to be so licentious. Mulder's the lewd one... He makes the bawdy remarks to which I roll my eyes or politely ignore. Well, most of the time. "How about some festive holiday music to lift your spirits, Scully?" He flips on the radio and for the next thirty seconds we enjoy Aaron Neville singing "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow". The man has a beautiful voice, very soothing. Maybe I'll survive this day after all. But as the song finishes, the radio station goes to commercial. Over the speakers of Mulder's new boom box an announcer's voice says, "Tired of those same holiday gifts that never seem to satisfy? Bored with the bottle of cheap cologne that you know you'll find in your stocking this year? The man in your life decided to sit in front of the TV all day watching football instead of spending it with you? Sounds like you need a shot of holiday cheer! And we know just the fat elf who can shoot it to you: Call 1-900-OH-SANTA!" I don't believe I'm hearing this. There's a woman's voice moaning in the background. Mulder immediately snaps to attention and we both exchange looks of open-mouthed wonder as the announcer goes on. "Yes, Santa is on the 900 line, and he's delivering a special bag of goodies, right into your waiting ear! Call him and get your share of holiday cheer in the comfort of your own home!" Mulder starts shaking with silent laughter as Santa's voice can be heard. "HO HO HO! Have you been a naughty little girl this year?" The woman's answers, "Oh, YES, Santa! So naughty..." Then Santa says in a very seductive voice, "Well, why don't you tell me all the ways you've been naughty and I'll see what I've got in my big red sack to give you..." Oh, God! The woman says, "Oh, Santa!" At which point the announcer returns. "Call 1-900-OH-SANTA now! Remember, Santa knows when you are sleeping, and he knows when you're awake... he knows when you're bad... and he knows when you're naked..." There's more moaning and Mulder looks as though he's going to cry, biting hard on his lower lip to keep himself from howling with laughter. Santa and the woman continue their dialogue. "So, what do you want Santa to bring you, little girl?" "Ooo, something to eat..." "Well then, how'd you like to suck on my candy cane?" Oh, brother! "Oh, SANTA, YES! YES!" At this point both Santa and the woman are moaning, and I think my face must be a lovely shade of Christmas red. Mulder is grinning at me as the announcer's voice returns. "Elves are standing by to take your call, so... don't wait! Let Santa make your holiday bright... Call 1-900-OH-SANTA right now! Because as you know, Santa is COMING..." Now the moaning and gasping builds to a crescendo of climaxing screams - "...to town," the announcer finishes, and we are left with the jingling of bells as the commercial fades out. "Oh, God!" Mulder roars, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Scully, tell me I didn't just hear that?" "I'm afraid we both did, Mulder." I try to remain at least outwardly calm. I think I might need to make that trip home after all. "Can you imagine, all those lonely frustrated women out there, calling to speak with dear old St. Nick? Having him HO HO HO as they OH OH OH." He waggles his eyebrows at me. I do my best to act unruffled. "Do you suppose he tells them he's going to come down their chimney? Or maybe he offers to let them play with his North pole." "Are you through?" "I wonder what he stuffs their stockings with?" Okay, I've had more than enough of this. Standing up, I grab my coat and purse. "Mulder, I'm going to lunch." "McMalley's sound good?" He's already slipping on his black calfskin bomber jacket. Automatically assuming that I desire his company while dining. Well, I do, but it would be nice if he'd ask once in a while, instead of just taking for granted that I have no 'other' companionship planned. As we walk out of the office and get on the elevator Mulder continues to chuckle to himself about the radio ad we heard. I am almost relieved when he gets distracted from his suggestive commentary as a trio of leggy flirts from the secretarial pool joins us in the crowded cubicle. Almost. The three of them begin eyeing my partner like he's a piece of choice meat. One of them winks at him. I immediately check out Mulder's reaction. He smiles politely... too politely in my opinion. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Mulder is being especially flirtatious today. If I were the object of his dalliances I wouldn't mind it so much. It's been a while since he's favored me with any of his playful come-ons. A long while. On this brisk December day, he seems to hardly notice I exist as we walk the seven blocks to our favorite lunch spot. He's too busy reveling in all the attention he seems to be the center of. It's that damn cologne, I know it is! Every woman we pass, young or old, throws a noticeable glance in Mulder's direction. There are smiles and 'hellos' being cast his way, and one forward hussy even stopped us to give him her business card. She's a photographer. Says she wants to shoot him. I'd like to shoot her! Mulder was flattered all the way to the restaurant. I did happen to take note of the fact that he kept Miss Paparazzo's card. All the tables are busy when we arrive and I'm about to suggest we get our food to go when one of the waitress catches sight of Mulder and practically falls over her own feet, chasing two young boys from the corner booth. "Here you go, sugar. You can sit in my section. I'm Dawn. I'll be happy to take care of you," she tells Mulder with a dazzling smile. "Why thank you... Dawn." Jesus, Mulder, put your eyes back in your head! We both slide into the booth, and 'Dawn' hands us our menus. "I'll be back in a few." Then thankfully, she leaves. Mulder and I ponder the selections for a few minutes. I happen to notice out of the corner of my eye that these two women sitting at the counter are looking at Mulder. He doesn't see them yet, too busy deciding on his lunch choice. I give them my best get-the-fuck-out-of-here-he's-mine glare. At the same time I remove my jacket so the fact that I'm armed is perfectly clear to them. Can't help but smile to myself as they quickly turn back to their food like whipped puppies. Works every time. I've barely decided on what to have, when Dawn returns. "Miss me?" She playfully taps Mulder on the shoulder with her order pad. Did she just bat her lashes at him? "You bet. What looks good today, Dawn?" Mulder's back to ogling again. So, she has big breasts. So what? You'd think he never saw cleavage before the way his eyes keep checking out her bust line. Of course, she's shamelessly flaunting them in his face. "You mean besides you, sugar?" Please! Mulder chuckles in a deep husky voice that reverberates right through me. Where the hell did that come from? "The Philly Steak Sub is excellent. It comes with fries." "Sounds good, Dawn. I'll have that and an iced tea, no sugar, no lemon." "Gotcha." As an after thought she turns to me. "And what are you having?" "I'll have a double cheeseburger with a side of fries, and a chocolate malt." What the hell, I won't be having any big holiday meals, I might as well treat myself to those extra calories now. Mulder starts to give me a look of surprise, but then our buxom waitress turns to leave and my dog of a partner can't resist watching her ass as she walks away. When his eyes finally find their way back to me, I'm seething and he knows it. Not only does he take me for granted, but he has the unmitigated gall to openly flirt with other women right in front of me as if my feelings are of no concern to him. Sure, he says I'm his touchstone... he gets frisky one Spring night and treats me to a batting lesson... he'll trek halfway across the God damn planet to rescue me... but don't ask the man to take the time to notice that I happen to be head over heels in love with him! VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV I am not really sure just when I landed in the doghouse, but I am definitely in it, studded collar and all. The day started out with such promise, too - well, as promising as a day can start when it's T-minus 72 hours to Christmas Day and your holiday vacation has been cancelled by your Scrooge-lovin' AD who wants you to stay in town because of a new case... that kind of promise. Scully is pissed - and who can blame her? It's not so bad for me; I'm accustomed to spending holidays by myself, for one reason or another, although this time I actually had real plans; was going to spend a few days with my mother, for a change. But our relationship has never been all that comfortable, and when I had to cancel I think there were sighs of relief from both of us. I love my mother, but... Scully's situation has always been so different... and I know she's upset. This year was supposed to be some big reunion at her brother Bill's house; she was actually looking forward to it, even though she and Bill have been fighting a lot lately. He's been pressuring her big-time to quit the Bureau and go back into medicine; she's been telling him to flake off. Scully standing up for herself... quite a sight to see. Too bad neither of us felt brave enough to stand up against Skinner... we'd be on separate planes right about now, winging our way to holiday cheer, instead of walking briskly down Tenth Avenue, on our way back to headquarters after a lunch at McMalley's. Scully is walking very briskly, but by taking a few inches more than my normal stride I am able to stay abreast of her quite nicely. She hasn't said a word, just keeps glaring at every woman we pass. Strange... we seem to be passing a lot of women today, on this street... maybe they come out in droves this time of year at the lunch hour to clean up their last-minute shopping. Whatever the reason, we seem to be passing a goodly share of them, and Scully glares at every one. Nice women, pretty women... they are all smiling at me as we near them, and I am smiling back. Well, why not? I'm an affable kind of guy; if someone turns on a 1,000-watt smile and shoots it my way, I'm gonna smile at them in return. A simple thing, smiling... my partner should do it more often. So we are stopped at a intersection, and I am still chuckling about 1-900-OH-SANTA... Man, what a hoot. I can't even imagine the sort of woman who would call the number. Oh, I know plenty of men call 900 numbers, myself included. But it's different for women... it has to be. They're not on auto-'horn-dog' the way men are... Scully just gave me a particularly foul look; surely she doesn't think I'm chuckling at her expense! I would never... she's too important to me to laugh at... she's got to know that, doesn't she? A young blonde woman wearing a dark fur coat and velvet pants waits at the corner with us, as we punch the crosswalk button. Scully has punched it about six times, and I am trying not to show my amusement at her impatience. "Relax, Scully; the office won't burn down if we don't get there within the next five minutes..." Uh-oh. The look she just shot me is cold enough to freeze the balls off a buffalo. I meet her frosty eyes, my own vaguely apologetic; she turns a trenchcoat clad shoulder and resumes punching. The fur-coated blonde is standing on my other side, and smiling at me; I return her smile. She moves a little closer to me and sniffs my personal space; her smile grows even bigger. I take a longer look at her; blondes aren't really my type but this is a very pretty lady, and she obviously likes to flirt... "Mind if I ask you what kind of cologne you're wearing? It smells divine..." Ooo, sexy, low voice... nice. On the other side of me I can hear Scully's heel actually tapping the ground in serious impatience; she must have pushed that button ten more times. I smile again at blonde-fur-woman, and reply in just as low a voice. "Sorry, I don't know the name of it, but... thanks for noticing..." She moves a little closer, the wattage of her grin shooting up a notch, and places a gloved hand on my arm. "I notice everything in my vicinity... especially when it's worth noticing..." Just about then, the 'walk' light finally comes on, and Scully grabs my other arm and practically drags me across the street. I turn and wave rather helplessly at fur-woman; she smiles and shrugs a little, then blows me a kiss. My eyes widen in shock and pleased surprise... until I chance a look at Scully's face, and see the anger there; must have witnessed that cute little blow-kiss. Scully, angry over something that silly? Something is amiss here... guess I'd better find out what it is. We make it back to the office without further incidence, and Scully has cooled off from whatever had gotten her pissed in the first place, and has been on speaking terms with me on the ride down into the basement. I'm so glad... I hate being at odds with my partner. She smiles at me as I usher her out of the elevator, which in turn makes me feel great. Scully doesn't smile all that often, so I really have to hoard them in my memory when she does bestow one upon me. In the office I take her coat, and hang it up; suddenly remembering I never told her how nice she looks today. Maybe she's angry about that -? I usually tell her she looks nice... perhaps she'd grown so accustomed to my remarks that she's missing the words I forgot to say. Well, I can remedy that. I clear my throat and glance her way, perched on the edge of her desk and flipping through the case file. "Uh, Scully... did I forget to tell you how nice you look today? That suit is a favorite of mine..." her sharp gaze flicks to me, noting the (I hope) sincere smile on my face, and then she turns her gaze on her suit and (Oh, damn) I can see her shoulders stiffen. "Mulder... the last time I wore this suit, you made a crack about how unfortunate it was that I didn't wear this suit into the woods when we got lost in that blasted mushroom-fungus thing... I can only assume you meant this suit needed replacement because it was so unattractive..." She turns her back on me, and I can see her take a deep, steadying breath. I am confused - I said that? I said that to her about one of her suits? Hell, I sure don't remember saying anything like that, to her... I voice my thoughts out loud - and she rounds on me abruptly, all warmth gone from her face, and her voice. "Well, you did say it, Mulder... at the time I never dreamed you had such a problem with my wardrobe. Not all of us can look like a GQ model every day!" She ignores my wide, shocked stare, and continues ranting. "And another thing, Mulder... I don't appreciate being dragged off to lunch without even asking me properly if I have any other plans, and if I even want to go with you! You never even asked me if I had a date... just took it for granted that good old Scully, your partner, would be free for lunch whenever you crooked your little finger!" She jumps to her feet and faces me down, red-faced and visually shaken. What's gong on here...? Before I can get a word in, she rushes on. "Sometimes it's nice to be asked, Mulder... sometimes it's nice to not be treated like an extension of you..." Now I am on my feet as well, and facing her, still wondering where all this frustration is coming from. "Jeez, Scully, I'm sorry... I just figured you were free. You never have lunch plans..." Oops... wrong thing to say. Her eyes narrow, and flame hot and bright at the same time. I am wondering how she can look so angry and so damned sexy at once, and she's letting me have it, both barrels... "YES, I am free most days, Mulder... and thank you SO much for noticing that little detail. Jesus Christ! You can forget my birthday, year after year, but manage to pinpoint with stunning accuracy the many times I never go to lunch with someone other than you! How fucking observant of you!" She turns and stomps to the door, grabbing her jacket on the way, and yanks open the door, tossing over her shoulder, "I am going home... I'll finish the case file notes there. " And with that she practically runs through the door and slams it behind her. I am left standing in the middle of our office with absolutely no clue as to what may be eating my partner. No clue... I sink slowly into my chair and start going over the morning in detail... Scully, typing on her computer, glancing my way every once in awhile. I figured she liked my new duds; I'd just gone shopping for myself a few days ago, using the gift certificate my mother sent me along with that bottle of cologne. I get such a rush of heat when Scully notices what I wear, even if she doesn't say anything. Guess I just thought it would be the same for her... Back to the morning's events. She really started acting strangely at lunch... as soon as the waitress came over to take our orders. So the woman flirted a little; so I flirted back. It's nice to have a woman flirt with you - and Scully rarely flirts. I miss it, I really do. She'd be so much fun to flirt with if she'd only respond a little - I can almost hear the way her voice would sound; sexy and on the low side, tossing me looks from underneath those pretty lashes of hers, shielding the force of her blue eyes... if she only knew what those eyes do to me. No, it can't be basic jealousy; that doesn't make sense. I have seen JealousScully, and it's nothing like that; nothing like the fury she directed toward me. And she never swears, not like that. I am really at a loss here... and I am worried. Something is going on, and God only knows what it could be. Maybe I should head over to her place and see if I can find out; drag it out of her if I can. I sure don't want to be at odds with her during the holiday season, or during a case, for that matter - I thought our partnership and friendship had worked its way beyond that flaky stage. I grab my jacket from the coatrack and head for the door. I am going over there... as soon as I sit in my car outside her apartment building just long enough to put together a valid reason for my concern. I hit the elevator button and fish for my keys. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Amazing. Absolutely amazing. I've just had a lover's quarrel with a man who not only doesn't know what we were fighting about... he's not even my lover. How is that possible? Our relationship confuses me to the point of exhaustion sometimes. Maybe I'm expecting too much. He ISN'T my lover after all. He shouldn't be held accountable for my sexual frustration. Mulder has a right to flirt with any woman he chooses. As I enter my apartment, I set my laptop and keys on the coffee table and snatch up the TV remote; background noise, I need to unwind after the crappy morning I've had. Yes, unwinding would be highly advised. I feel like I've been at a rolling boil for hours. Time to simmer down, Dana, old girl. Sighing, I kick off my shoes and head into the bedroom to put them away and shed my Agent Scullywear. Maybe if Mulder saw me in something besides business suits once in a while, he'd start thinking of me as more than just his partner. I may not have breasts as large as 'Dawn' the waitress, but I have a good figure. I keep in shape. I wonder if he's ever taken the opportunity to watch my ass as I walk away from him? Probably not. The transformation from Agent Scully to Dana is accomplished in a few short minutes. I'm now dressed more comfortably in my favorite pair of stonewashed buttondown jeans and a simple cotton T-shirt. Feeling better already too. And then I hear it. I rush back out into the living room to catch the last few seconds of the commercial for 1-900-OH-SANTA. The TV ad is infinitely more effective considering the bare chested boy toy in the Santa hat that's breathing heavily into the phone. Oh, I could sure go for some of that... Ummmm... Well, why the hell not? What's so awful about treating myself to a little holiday cheer? It's likely to be the closest I'm going to get to a sexual relationship any time soon. Oh, God, I can just hear my confession now. 'Forgive me Father for I have sinned... I had phone sex with Santa Claus.' I wonder how many Acts of Contrition that one's worth? Guess I'm about to find out. I think I'll take this phone call into the bedroom. That way I can get nice and comfy. Besides, that phone has a speaker function. I spoiled myself when I was picking out Mulder's Christmas gift. I spend half my life on the phone, no reason I can't indulge in some state of the art technology. Okay, it's not state of the art, but it beats the hell out of the clunky old phone I used to have. My heart starts to pound faster as I lie back on the bed and prepare to make the call. What am I so nervous about anyway? I try to tell myself to relax. I'm not a shy person. Wouldn't have chosen a career as an FBI agent if I was. Stop biting your nails, Dana, and make the damn call! After three unsuccessful attempts to dial the number, I'm back to believing my own theory that the fates are sadistically conspiring against me. Well, I'm determined to have the last laugh on this one. I've got a redial button and plenty of time to kill. Eventually I'll get through... Guess I showed them. It's ringing. And after only sixteen tries. I'm greeted with an acknowledgment that I have indeed reached the number I desired, followed by an explicitness warning and a cost per minute verification. Three dollars per minute! That might be just fine for men, but I'm a woman, damn it! I'll be into this for fifty bucks before I ever get close to jingling all the way! Yeah, yeah... I'll pay. Where's my Santa boy? "Ho Ho Ho, baby, what can Santa do for you today?" Nice deep sexy voice, Santa. "I don't know, what can Santa do for me today?" "That depends, are you naughty or nice?" "Oh, definitely naughty." I have to bite my lip so I won't laugh. "Then I'd say Santa can do a lot for you. Do you want to tell me your name?" Why not? "Dana." "Ah yes, Dana, I have you right here on my list. My goodness but you've been bad this year. So bad. A naughty little girl. Haven't you?" Jesus! "Uh huh." "Well, that's okay, Dana. Because Santa is a very generous man. I'm sure I've got something I could give you. Something that a naughty girl such as yourself might really enjoy... You know, Dana, it's awfully hot in this Santa suit. How about you? Are you hot?" Are you kidding? "Yeah, I'm pretty hot." "Why don't we both get a little more comfortable. I'll just slip off this shirt... you can do the same if you like. OH HO HO, that's so much better. I was really starting to sweat under all that fur." "I can imagine." "You have a good imagination, do you, Dana?" Sigh. "Yeah." "Tell me, do you have that shirt off yet?" It is getting incredibly hot in here. And I am paying good money for this. I might as well play along. The shirt removed, I'm surprised to see a glowing sheen on my own skin. Didn't realize how overheated I am. This Santa does have a particularly sexy voice... It's hard not to be affected by his seductive tone. "Shirts off," I tell him. "Feels better, doesn't it? What are you wearing now, Dana?" "Nothing." So, I lied. Big deal. "You wouldn't be lying to Old St. Nick now, would you, Dana?" Oh, he IS good. "What if I am?" This is actually kind of fun. "You really are a naughty little girl, aren't you? I'm afraid if you lie to Santa you won't get a candy cane. And I know how much you love candy canes, Dana… the bigger the better. You like to lick them, don't you? And suck them too. I've seen you rolling that hot little tongue all over them." Hoo boy! "Okay, Santa, I'll fess up. I'm still wearing my jeans, bra and panties. What do you have on?" "Just my furry red pants, a pair of black boots and my Santa hat." "That's all?" "That's all." "You mean to tell me Santa doesn't wear underwear?" "Oh, no, darlin', I'm completely naked under all this fur." "Oh, my!" "Do you know what I'm doing right now, Dana?" "Playing with your North Pole?" "How did you ever guess?" "A little elf told me." That makes him chuckle. God, he sounds just like Mulder when he laughs. I close my eyes and let my hands begin to wander over my body. This isn't as bad as I imagined it might be. "Have you ever seen Santa's North Pole, Dana?" "Can't say that I've had the pleasure." "Would you like me to describe it for you?" Hell yes! "Sure." As my carnal Kris Kringle begins a rather detailed and dirty description of his male attributes, I slowly unbutton my jeans, sliding my hands down inside until I find the place that's been longing for attention all day. My whole body responds as fingers brush over my clit, and the heat that's been building at my center radiates out, reaching every nerve ending, starting a fire of sensation that has me moaning in self-indulgent bliss. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Sitting in front of Scully's apartment, I try to come up with a plausible excuse as to why I would feel it necessary to check up on her. Sure, I can claim the usual: "Scully, I was worried about you - what's wrong..." And I will get her stock answer, which I swear to God has become her own personal mantra: "Mulder, I'm fine..." Jesus, if I had money for every single time she's spouted that rotten little three-word phrase at me... I'd be so goddamed rich I could blow off working for the rest of my sorry life. Scully the Strong... Scully the Impenetrable... except something has penetrated her, finally... something which disturbs her in a way I have never seen. Shit... I have observed this woman slice open green-tinged cadavers with nothing more than a bit of Vick's Vapor-Rub smeared under her nose, and yak it up to the attending coroner about the great meal she had at some restaurant... more than enough to make me run for hedge cover, but she is that solid. I have seen her keep her admirable cool in the face of some of the worst shit ever to come down on anyone's head. I have witnessed her absolute dedication, her determination, and as I said, her strength. But something made her crumble; something gave her enough grief to fold into an angry knot of resentment... something snapped her cool and caused such hurtful words to come out of her mouth… and that something (someone, rather) was me. Don't know how... don't know why. Got my suspicions, though... and as I open the car door and hop out onto the sidewalk; as I take the stairs two at a time, not bothering with the elevator... I decide one way or another, I'm gonna get to the bottom of it. I reach her door and knock, firmly... no answer. I press my ear to the door; I can hear vague rumblings which may or may not be live voices; maybe the TV is on. I press my ear harder to the door, and knock again... nothing. Wait a minute... what was that? A sob... I think I heard a sob. Oh, shit... Scully's in there crying. I made her cry; don't know how but obviously it must have been something truly awful... for Scully is not a cryer. What did I do? What could I have done, to reduce her to confrontational fury, directed at me? I have got to find out... this is getting scary. I pull out my key to her apartment and unlock the door, open it slowly and noiselessly, and enter. Standing in her little foyer, at first not hearing anything... I find myself drawing my gun; actually that paranoid, to need it in my hand. Then I hear it; a male voice... low and intense-sounding, unfamiliar. Who...? I walk very carefully toward the direction of the voice, keeping my gun up and ready. She could be in trouble; serious trouble. I can't take any chances; this is my partner and I care for her, love her... Voice getting a little louder, a little clearer... I can understand the words he's saying to her; I pause in the darkened hallway outside her bedroom... uh-oh, not good... her bedroom. The voice coming from her bedroom... male, and decidedly aroused-sounding. Fuck... what have I just walked into? I can feel my heart splintering inside my chest, little piece by little piece... Then I hear his words, clear as a bell. "Dana, darlin'... do as I say, Baby... put that lovely little finger in your mouth and get it wet for me; just for me, Sweetheart..." Holy shit... I walked into the middle of a sex-fest between my partner and some guy, and all I can do is stand numbly in her dark hallway and feel myself splitting in six different directions because it's not me in there with her... Then my hanging head jerks up at the low moan I hear coming from her dainty throat... and the words she breathes out causes a hard shudder to sweep through my body... "Wet, now... please let me put them in... God, Mulder... please... let me put them in and pretend it's you..." What the fuck... Slowly I peek around the side of the door; silently and slowly I look across the room; I need to see this; I have to know! Jesus, she's with a guy and pretending out loud to him... that she's with me... I can't believe this. What kind of wienie dickless moron would let a beautiful woman pretend to be with someone else while he's doing her? I manage to get up close to the edge of the door and still stay in the shadows, and I take one deep, silent breath, and train my eyes into the room and over to the vicinity of her bed. I have to know what kind of guy would... Oh, my God. What kind of guy, I wondered? A wienie, dickless moron of a phone-sex guy, that's what! I can hear him in the speaker phone (when did Scully get a speaker phone?) - deep voice, definitely aroused... talking dirty to Scully. My Scully. Telling her to do outrageous things with her hands. My Scully... lying on her bed (oh, help...) - lying there next to the speaker, eyes closed and cheeks flushed a wild pink... shirt off and tossed to one side (God, she's wearing a pale peach bra oh God); bra cups pushed to one side and a hand languidly drifting over and around one hard rosy nipple (I'm looking at Scully's nipple, her aroused nipple I have seen her breasts before but not like this never like this)... Her other hand is shoved inside the loosened waistband of her faded jeans, and even from the doorway I can see it moving against her, between her slim thighs (I'm falling I can feel myself losing momentum and falling at the sight of Scully touching herself in the one place I'd sell my soul to touch I want to need to have to touch her)... Scully on a bed half-dressed in full arousal touching herself and pretending it's me... How many times in the past six years have I had that dream? Too many to count... too many. I have played the scene out in my head a million times, in all different ways and places... wanting so much to be the one to bring a hot flush to her cheeks, and a sweaty glow to that pale satin skin of hers - wanting to bring a sobbing cry of pent-up lust to her lips, erupting from her throat and ringing on the silent air... Wanting all that heat, all that wet heat gathering between her soft thighs, all for me nobody but me... and here it fucking finally is... Scully in heat. Scully calling out for me... wanting me... at last letting go of her inhibitions, her need for absolute control... finally giving over that control - To a voice on a phone sex line. I am so speechless and frozen in place I can barely hear what this voice is now saying to her; nothing registering except the droning hum in my ears and the sound of her gasps and moans as she does herself... then, I hear it. And I am floored anew... "Baby, oh that's it, isn't it... right there, front and center, isn't it? I bet your fingers are in deep, so deep... are they rubbing hard, like I told you to? You called me 'Mulder' again, Baby but Santa doesn't mind, little girl, really I don't care... only want to make you feel good; give you the gift that just keeps on coming... and you're getting close now, aren't you Sugar? Very, very close... tell me, Darlin'... tell Santa how close you are..." Santa?!!?? Oh, SHIT! 1-900-OH-SANTA... she did it, she really did... she called the number. Something set her off at work and she came home and dialed the number and got some Santa-perv on the phone and got him to get her off... because she didn't think she could have me... Because I haven't given her a reason lately to think that I am hers, have always been hers and will always be hers. I am such a dumb fuck, even I can't believe me. Part of me wants to rush into that bedroom, yank the phone cord out by its roots and fling it through the window, then pounce on Scully and proceed to plank the living shit outta her... and part of me wants to give it up for her, everything I can, all for her... slowly and gently, just the way she wants it and needs it. I move away from the doorway, suddenly not wanting to hear any more; not wanting to hear my Scully come, not this way. When I hear her climax for the first time I want it to be entirely at my very own hands and nobody else's, not even hers. I want to make her scream just for me... all for me. I want the plump, soft folds of her clinging so tightly to me that they cut off my circulation; I want her tongue buried so deeply in my mouth that it comes out my ear... I want her breasts overflowing my hands and her orgasm overtaking my own release. I want this, and now, finally... I know she wants it too. I want this so badly... But first, I want to have a little fun with my partner. And I think I know just how to do it... I'm in the car now, and driving back to my apartment... but my mind is still in Scully's dark hallway, not on the road ahead. My motor functions on auto-pilot, I stop for a light... but my eyes still see her lying on the bed, hands touching and pushing, body sweetly writhing there against her thick comforter. Some impatient idiot is honking their horn in back of me, warning me to move the hell out of their way... but my ears really only hear my partner's low moaning sighs; hear again the sound of my name on her lips - a thousand times more erotic than anyone could ever say my name. I can see her, almost smell her - that fragrance of heat and wet, sort of sweet and sort of smoky; thick and clean and good. ScullySmell... and I want to roll in it like the dog I am... want to cover myself with her scent and take it deep down, into my soul. In order to get my fondest desire, though... I have to make some plans. First things first... If Agent Scully wants to play around with Santa Claus... who am I to deny her? I make it to my apartment without incident, no thanks to the daydreaming I was doing... pull out the phone book and flip open the Yellow Pages. I quickly find what I am looking for, and dial the number. Three rings, and a woman answers the phone. "Presidential Costumer's..." I am smiling as I speak into the receiver. "Yes, hello... I would like to rent a Santa Claus suit for two days... the deluxe suit, please..." VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Since I arrived at work this morning, Mulder has been bending over backwards to please me. He brought me coffee, the good kind from the espresso bar across the street... even remembered I like my latte nonfat. Can't recall when the last time was that Mulder actually went out of his way to get me coffee, or anything else for that matter. Coffee, olive branch, I suppose the two are interchangeable. I understood the gesture and appreciated him not holding a grudge after the way I lit into him yesterday. When I went upstairs to retrieve some archived periodicals, he insisted on going with me and carrying the heavy stack of old magazines back down into the basement himself. Well, well, chivalry isn't dead after all. He's been complimenting me too... on my hair, my earrings, my new boots, even the shade of lipstick I'm wearing. He's trying to make me feel better, and I have to admit that it is soothing to be on the receiving end of such flattery from Mulder, but now I'm feeling really guilty for the horrible things I said to him yesterday. I'm also feeling more than just a little embarrassed, considering this is all the result of my sex drive. It's very unprofessional of me to interject personal feelings into our working relationship. I know that. And I'm usually much better about covering up. And then there's the other thing. What happened after I left the office. I know he doesn't have the foggiest clue how I spent my afternoon, but *I* do, and every time I look at him all I can think about is me screaming his name as I climaxed. I think even my phone Santa was shocked. But God help me, that was one incredible orgasm. Who knew that phone sex could be so gratifying? No wonder people are willing to shell out the bucks. Jesus, I'm getting hot again just thinking about it... "Hey, Scully?" Oh, Mulder, please don't talk to me right now. Don't make me look at you. I can't stand it. I just can't. Not right now. Not after... ...I let myself fantasize that the voice on the phone was Mulder. He started making all these demands. Asking me to do things... erotic things I had never done before. He kept saying to do it for HIM. (God, Mulder, you know I'd do ANYTHING for you.) He made me do it all. I couldn't stop. The more I obeyed his commands, the more intense the need was to continue. My passion ran away with me. I was helpless to his will. He knew I needed the release that only he could give me. He had the power to deliver me from the hell. How could I even think of not doing a single thing he asked of me? And so I did it. All of it. Everything. Even though he was driving me insane with desire, to the point of begging before he would grant me permission to finally, FINALLY have what I've dreamed of for an eternity... HIM, Mulder, inside of me, filling me, pushing into me harder and harder, never stopping, never... (so good, God, yes... Oh, Mulder... please... harder, faster, just a little faster...) The feeling so intense I couldn't breathe, he completely took me over. ( Don't stop, please) I could feel it starting to happen. Gasping for each desperate breath as he ground harder and harder against the center of my heat, so much friction making the fire hotter, too hot, burning me... (I need it, God, please, Mulder... I need it, I need it so bad) My body stiff, the tension built to the point of no return. (Please... please... yes, yes, that's the spot, right there, moremoremore... oh, oh GOD! MULDER, MULDER, I'M COMING!!!) He left me whimpering, trembling, wishing it had all been true... not just a fantasy, a stranger on the phone, and the work of my own hands. "Scully?" Oh, God. "Um hmm?" Clearing my throat nervously, I keep my head down, nose to the grindstone fashion, pretending to concentrate on my work. I can't face him now. I've got to calm down first. Be a professional, Agent Scully, keep it together. "Are you all right?" I feel even more guilty when I hear the genuine concern in his voice. "Fine. Why?" Slow deep breaths, I coach myself. Oh, great, now he's coming over here. In three long strides he's standing beside my chair. "You were of out of it for a minute, Scully. Are you feeling okay?" A quick nod of my head is all that I'm capable of with Mulder hovering so close and my heart pounding out a jungle beat in my chest. When I still refuse to look at him, he leans over me and peers at my face with concern. "Jesus, Scully, you're flushed." He places a cool hand against my burning cheek. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" "Yes, Mulder, I said I'm fine!" I snap, the words coming out harsher than I intended. He withdraws quickly. Damn it! Before he can move away, I reach out and stop him, squeezing his hand, reassuring him that things are still all right between us. "Really," I say, much more gently this time. "It's just a little warm in here, that's all." Then looking up at him I offer a smile of apology. "Yeah, I guess old Ebenezer must have decided to treat us to some heat, being as it's Christmas Eve. It's a bit stifling though, considering we're used to freezing our butts off down here." With a nod of agreement, I attempt to return to my reading, but Mulder doesn't go back to his desk. He continues to stand beside me, nervously fidgeting. "Is there something else you wanted, Mulder?" I finally ask him. "You got big plans for night? Or are you going to just stay home and wait for Santa to come?" Well, if I wasn't blushing before, I sure as hell am now. God, Mulder, don't do this to me. There's really no reason for me to be embarrassed. He doesn't know anything about it. It was just an innocent remark. Or more likely, a witty reminder of the radio ad he found so amusing. "Actually, I have no plans at all," I manage to tell him with a remarkable amount of composure for someone who is about to spontaneously combust. "Good. Because I was hoping you might let me take you out to dinner tonight. To apologize for yesterday." "Mulder, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you. My behavior was inexcusable. You did nothing to warrant that tantrum I threw. I guess I was just feeling down about missing Christmas with my family this year. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. It was wrong of me to leave you with all the work while I ran home to sulk." "No. My behavior was inexcusable." His voice is gentle but firm. When I look up at him, he reaches out and brushes a disobedient lock of hair away from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. "What kind of a jerk takes a beautiful woman to lunch and then proceeds to flirt with the waitress? I was acting like a real ass, Scully. Let me make it up to you. If you agree to have dinner with me, I swear, tonight I'll only have eyes for you." Don't I wish. I shouldn't do this. I'm only going to end up being disappointed when it leads to nothing. He's just being nice because I yelled at him. There's not a snowball's chance that he's going to finally wake up and realize my feelings for him are more than just that of a friend. But how can I resist those pleading eyes? So I submit. "I'd love to have dinner with you, Mulder. Thank you." That smile of his lights up the whole basement. But there's something in his eyes... I'm not sure what it is, but I've seen a similar gleam before, and it usually means he's up to something. I shouldn't be so suspicious. It's probably nothing. "Scully, what the hell are we doing at work? It's Christmas Eve!" He announces jubilantly, as if the thought just occurred to him. "This stuff can wait." Reaching over my shoulder, he closes up the case file I've been pretending not to ignore. "What do you say we cut out early?" Well, I'm certainly not going to argue with that. Besides, if Mulder and I are going out tonight, I'd like time to get ready for our... date? Maybe I can find a way to open his eyes to the obvious tonight. There's always the possibility of a Christmas miracle. As soon as I agree to forsake duty for fun, Mulder wastes no time closing up shop. He walks me to my car and promises he'll be by my place no later than seven o'clock. I fight the bustling holiday traffic and the crowded mall, before heading back to my apartment. I want to make sure I have just the right outfit that will knock Mulder off his feet, making it perfectly clear to him what I'm offering. It's been way too long since I've had to concern myself with dressing to please a man. I'd forgotten how much fun it can be. If this outfit doesn't grab Mulder's attention, then nothing ever will. I found the most wonderful deep burgundy dress. The top is stretch lace, burgundy over black, with a low scooped neckline to be sure he gets an eyeful. It falls just off the shoulders. The skirt is black chiffon with a wispy layer of burgundy lace over the top. Flaring out just enough to swing when I walk and to draw attention to my ass... which, by the way, Mulder is going to notice tonight if it kills me. The dress ends just above the knee; and I bought a pair of sheer black thigh high stockings complete with lace garter and some sexy satin slingback pumps with four inch stiletto heels. And in case a Christmas miracle does happen, Mulder's going to get a little holiday treat when he sees the seductive misty black strapless bra and thong I picked up at Frederick's. Okay, so maybe I'm dreaming big time. But he really seemed to be making an effort today. He cared enough to try and make things better for me. It's been a while since he's taken an interest at all. And I could swear he was flirting with me when he walked me to my car. I'm excited about having dinner with Mulder tonight, but at the same time, I haven't forgotten the fates. They could be up there right now laughing their asses off at me, knowing just what's in store. I take the time to style my hair differently, giving it that new tousled look that's all the rage. And after applying my makeup, I finish it all off with vanilla flavored lip gloss... I'd put barbecue sauce on my lips if I thought it would get him to kiss me. As a final touch, I happen to know that Mulder's favorite perfume is Paris... the Gunmen come in awfully handy sometimes. I don't even want to know how they know... It's enough for me that I know, especially if it has the affect on my partner that I hope it will have. If after all of this Fox Mulder does not fall under my spell... well, damn it, I'll probably shoot him! As cosmic melodrama goes, that would make one hell of a final act. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV This Santa suit is hot and stuffy... I am gonna be in a world of hurt if I have to wear it for very long. I stand in front of a full-length mirror in my bedroom buttoning the suspenders onto the pants to hold them up. It may be a stifling suit, but it's one of the nicest-quality Santa suits I have ever seen. The plush is really thick and the boots are made of leather and are real boots. The beard and mustache fit extremely well and look astonishingly authentic. There are even a pair of little gold-rimmed half-glasses which perch on the end of my nose. I begin to slip into the heavy coat, and immediately the sweat begins pouring off me. I groan in frustration and rip the coat off... the last thing I want to do is begin reeking of B.O. when I should be good-smelling for Scully. What to do... With resignation, I strip off the baggy pants and take off the jeans I have on underneath. After a moment of indecision, I also strip off the boxers and my t-shirt. I grin to myself as I re-clothe myself, actually liking the feel of my bare skin against the plush material. Secretly-NakedSanta on his way to seduce the future Mrs. Claus... Scully is in for one hell of a surprise. My ensemble complete, I stand back and view the result. The coat may be heavy, but seeing as how the big jelly-belly Santa is supposed to sport is sewn into the coat, alleviating the need for pillows and stuffing... the image staring back at me is eerily Santa-like. I smile into the mirror, noticing the white of my teeth against the white beard, and whispering to myself, "Ho Ho HO, Scully... here I come..." In the elevator, I try to relax; try not to panic as I contemplate the drastic turn my life is about to take. I am very nervous, even though I saw for myself the depth of Scully's desire, and her need... she wants me, hopefully loves me - and I have loved her for so long that I don't know any other way to live except in a state of perpetual Scullywant. I suppose if somebody waved a magic wand in front of my face and gave me a signed and notarized guarantee of Scully falling into my arms and declaring her undying love... I would still cling to the idea that she only cares for me as a friend, and keep my flaming lust to myself. That was before I saw her twisting amongst the sheets with her bra askew and her jeans undone and her hands doing the pubic-hair tango... and gasping my name. Hell yeah, I'm nervous... but I like to live life on the edge anyhow. It's time for Santa to deliver... time for me to finally get the woman I love to admit her feelings and embrace them instead of a speaker phone... time to celebrate the holidays with a bang... "Santa... what're you doin' in the el-vater..." A tug on my pants; I look down to see a little boy, not even four, tugging at me, Mom hovering nearby... and before I can wonder how they managed to sneak into the elevator without me hearing it, the boy has climbed up my leg like a little monkey and has settled himself comfortably into my furry arms and has leaned his little head into my shoulder and is telling me his life story, in between requests for large-ticket items like Nintendos and Pokemon deluxe trading card sets and a BabyCat snowmobile... and his mom is trying to pry him off me, her face flaming with embarrassment; but I am delighted and quick to assure her it's no bother. Hell, if the Grim Reaper himself plopped his bony skeletal pelvis in my lap, I would find a way to see if he wanted a new scythe in his stocking - it keeps my mind from dwelling on not only the lovely redhead waiting for me, but the fact I am naked underneath this damn Santa-oven... I finally finish listening to the child's wish-list (which is as long as the Alaskan Equinox, I'm sure) and head off to my car, easing into traffic; mildly amazed to see that nobody even notices Santa driving through the twilight Christmas Eve, instead of zipping around in his sleigh with eight tiny high-stepping reindeer. I make it to Scully's building in record time, and park, then sit in the car for a full five minutes, trying to un-knot the square knots in my stomach, and reassuring myself (for the hundredth time) that I didn't forget my overnight bag. Well, Jeez.. I know it sounds presumptuous... but I can't hang out in her apartment with nothing but a red HO HO HO suit, now can I? Okay - I am ready to face my future, my destiny... just another tall skinny guy buck-naked underneath a 90-pound Santa suit with a sack full of goodies like champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries and raspberry-flavored massage oil... yessir, we be all over the city, dontcha know, just waiting to pounce on the women we love. I get through the front doors without incident (or molestation by little desperate kids) and now I am really on my way. At her door, I stand just to the left of the peephole so Scully can't see me and I knock once and yell, "Scully! It's me..." I hear her muffled affirmation before the sound of her tapping heels get closer to the door... hmmm. Judging by the tenor of the taps... she must have some serious heels happening. I can feel myself tightening down there in my plush groin area, at the image of Scully in heels... maybe three inch... maybe four...? No time to ponder it; she's opening up the door and I catch her scent before I see her... Oh, Christ. Paris perfume. I can feel my legs start trembling. Paris... The sudden need to lick every inch of her neck is so overwhelming to me that I am temporarily blinded by lust, and it's not until I hear her voice on the other side of the opening door that I finally snap out of it and focus on her words. "Mulder, I just broke the chain of my necklace... come on in - and I'll be right with you..." I shrug and push on the door. The first thing I notice is the fireplace, grates open wide and ready to stoke with logs and kindling piled nearby. I suddenly have a very cool idea. I hurry over to the fireplace and sit on the marble hearth, laying the sack at my feet and actually moving half of my body carefully so it looks as if I am emerging from my slide down the chimney. I manage to get myself situated just in time; she's walking out of the bedroom, head down, fighting with an earring; she doesn't see me... but oh, boy, do I see her. God, she looks incredible. I can't even begin to describe what I am seeing... I will have to dwell on it later, because now I need to concentrate on my little act here, as Santa, the Claus who will make Dana Scully's night - and she's talking to me... "Mulder can you get this for... Oh, GOD..." She has seen me, out of the corner of her eye... and she shakes her head hard, sending soft wavy curls slipping over her cheeks, thinking she must be seeing things. I can almost see the wheels turning in that gorgeous head of hers... I smile at her sweetly, lounging there half in and half out of her fireplace, and whisper to her, deep and low and gravelly-thick: "Ho Ho HO, little girl... Santa's decided to come see you personally and give you a Christmas Eve to remember... after you gave him a phone call that sent him straight to Heaven..." I watch her carefully, gauging her reaction; the implication behind my words. Her face pales, her eyes go round and large with shock and she drops the earring on the floor and just stands there as if suspended in the air... I rise slowly from the fireplace hearth, and move to stand in front of her... and I take her right hand; the one she'd had down her jeans just yesterday; I take her boneless right hand in mine and raise it to my face and sniff her fingers, then bury my mouth into her palm, licking her soft skin and murmuring, "Ooh, smells like heaven, little girl... smells like you. Santa likes the way you smell... Santa likes the way you feel... yourself. Santa would like it very much if you'd use that pretty hand to check out the size of his North pole..." At my words, her eyes slip shut and she sways on her feet and I catch her just as her knees begin to buckle... I run my hands over her beautiful dress and wind them through that wild red hair and pull her very close... and whisper in her little ear. Tell me, Baby, little girl... just how naughty *have* you been, all this year...?" VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Damn earring! "Mulder can you get this for... Oh, GOD." At first I thought I was seeing things. But I'm not. He's real. Santa Claus, or rather Mulder Claus, dressed all in red fur, pack of goodies at his side, Santa hat slightly askew, right down to the gold rimmed glasses and the twinkle in his eyes, posed on my fireplace hearth as if he's just made the trip down the chimney. My heart starts to pound as the image before me mingles with not so distant memories of a fantasy Mulder decked out similarly, and the sudden fear that my deepest secret has been discovered. But that's ridiculous, of course. There's no way he could know. Thank God for that. "Ho Ho HO, little girl. Santa's decided to come see you personally and give you a Christmas Eve to remember... after you gave him a phone call that sent him straight to Heaven." My racing heart comes to a complete stop. I don't even think I'm breathing anymore as I stand frozen in stunned disbelief. But how... how could he know? How could he possibly know? The earring slips from my hand to the floor; and all I can do is stare in wide-eyed wonder at the sight before me, thinking this can't be, he can't possibly know. And as he gets up and makes his way slowly, purposefully towards me, the twinkle in his eyes becomes the gleam of a predator stalking his prey. My God. HE KNOWS. Only inches from me now, Mulder takes my hand in his. 'Breathe, Dana, breathe,' I plead with myself. Mulder's hand is warm and strong around mine as he pulls my fingers up to his whiskered face and inhales, moaning as he does so. Then he presses my hand to his mouth and I can feel his hot tongue running slowly, seductively across the center of my palm. 'Damn it, Dana, breathe! You don't want to be unconscious for this!' I can feel the vibrations of his rumbly mutterings traveling all the way up my arm, sending messages to other parts of my body as well. "Ooh, smells like heaven, little girl, smells like you. Santa likes the way you smell. Santa likes the way you feel... yourself. Santa would like it very much if you'd use that pretty hand to check out the size of his North Pole..." The shock is too much. I'm starting to fade out. My eyes close and my legs fail me, my whole body goes limp, and Mulder catches me in his arms. I lie helplessly trapped against him as his hands explore my curves through the soft fabric of my dress. He runs his fingers through my hair, turning my head so he can whisper in my ear. "Tell me, baby, little girl, just how naughty *have* you been, all this year?" The breath I finally manage comes as a sudden gasp. Oh, Jesus. Ooooh. His wet tongue slides over my ear. If he wasn't holding me up, I think I would just melt into the floor. "Come on, baby, don't be shy now. Tell Santa everything. Just like you did on the phone." He's whispering against my ear, mimicking the demanding tone of my phone Santa. I'm going to die. Right here in Mulder's arms. (Which, incidentally, isn't a bad way to go.) But I am absolutely going to die! He really DOES know. Somehow he must have heard... If the Gunmen are in anyway responsible for this invasion of my privacy, I kick their asses but good... and then I'll thank them from the bottom of my heart. "Mmmulderrr..." Was that me? "All right, sugar, you can call me Mulder if you want to. You know Santa doesn't mind. I'm just here to spread a little Christmas joy... then hopefully you'll spread something for Santa." Oh, my! Somehow I manage to lift my head from his shoulder and look up at him. I have to see for myself the face of the man who is saying these things to me; to be certain that this is really and truly Fox Mulder. Yep, same mesmerizing hazel eyes, same arguably disproportionate nose, same deliciously pouty bottom lip. It's Mulder all right, dressed in a Santa suit, doing his damnedest to seduce me... me, Dana Scully, his partner, the woman he's strung along for nearly seven years. "Come on, little girl, you weren't so quiet the last time we talked. What does Santa have to do to get you to open up that mouth of yours?" Before I can even attempt an answer, his lips are on mine. Mulder's kiss is enough to finally wake me from my stupor. Hell, it's enough to wake me from death, I should think. Especially the way he's kissing me now. He isn't at all shy about it. His tongue finds its way into my all too willing mouth and proceeds to give MY tongue the thrill of a lifetime. Having somewhat recovered, I make it perfectly clear to him, with a little tongue action of my own, that I wholeheartedly approve of his conduct. That I'll gladly play 'Santa Claus' or any other fantasy adventure he happens to dream up. Just so long as it's he and I doing the playing. I give his tongue a final suck, making a sexy slurp, as he starts to pull back from the kiss. Then I offer a she-devilish grin. "Your whiskers tickle, Santa," I tell him, using my best naughty girl voice. He wastes no time losing the phony beard and mustache. And once the glasses are history too, all that remains is the smiling face of my partner, my friend, my soon-to-be lover. "How would you like to sit on Santa's lap, little girl, and give him your wish list?" "You better believe it." With a mischievous chuckle, Mulder pulls me over to the sofa, sits down, then pats his lap for me to join him. "Come on, little girl, don't keep Santa waiting." "But I'm worth waiting for," I say, as I climb into his lap face to face, straddling his *ahem* North pole. Mulder Claus groans his approval at my choice of positions. "Santa's waited long enough. Get over here, Scully." Then he places his hands on either side of my hips, forcefully pulling me down onto him, until our bodies are pressing firmly into one another, and I can feel the steel of his erection calling out for attention beneath me. God, he's pushing himself into me. Feels so good but it's not enough, I can't help squirming around, rubbing against him, delighting in my own slippery wetness as wriggle on his lap. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV She's finally here... finally in the position I've dreamed of, for so long... my partner, straddling me. On my lap... Hell, practically inside my skin, we are so close. She's so tiny... but every inch of her is pressed against me and she's cradling all my aching parts... I have quite a few of them stored up and she's hitting them all at once. Her tender breasts boring little points of fire into my chest, right over my thumping heart... hands twisted into my hair, fingers stroking along the sensitive skin of my nape. Her shapely thighs and calves cling in just the right manner, and even her stockinged feet have found just the right place to nestle, there along my shins. Her eyes are level with mine and right at this moment in my existence there is nothing more exciting or more erotic than to be the tight focus of Dana Scully's attention. Those blue eyes are scorching me and she hasn't even kissed me hard yet... but I have faith she'll soon correct the oversight. I am in heaven... Scullyheaven. My hands hold her hips tightly to me, and I teasingly press myself up and into her, jabbing lightly into her silk-covered heat. I have to be careful... I am so fucking close to blowing that it's not funny. I want this to last a good, long while... want this to last forever. Even that wouldn't be long enough... "Oooh, Scully... don't wiggle like that, baby... Santa can't keep his candy cane sugared if you don't stop tempting him so much..." She giggles against my neck as I groan the words into her ear. So close... If she only knew... She must have a good idea though, for she backs off just a little, and peers into my face. I meet her gaze with a hot one of my own, and whisper, "Aren't you gonna ask Santa what he's got on underneath his furry little suit?" She grins at me, and reaches a small hand between our bodies and down into my groin area, slipping her fingers along my North pole like she owns it. Well... I did say she could have it... every inch of it. Her caresses are forcing a series of harsh moans from my throat, as she ponders my under-apparel, or lack thereof. "I'd say that Santa's got nothing but skin under his furry little suit... lots and lots of hard, hot skin... and all for me. Am I right?" She punctuates the sensual words with a long lick of her tongue up the side of my neck right over the sensitive vein; across my cheek and over one ear where she takes her time licking and nibbling at me until I am shaking in my Santa boots. I wind both arms around her, hard... and fight to keep what little sanity I have left. I can feel my hips pumping up against hers, through layers of clothing... I want to rip off every layer and bury myself so deeply within her softness that I'd come out the back of her. But I want this to last... and last. I want to give her the longest, most intense screw of her life... I want to brand every gorgeous inch of her with myself. And then I want to start all over again... So I move my hands to the zipper of her dress, and pull it down slowly... holding her gaze; concentrating on the myriad expressions flitting across her face as I kiss the skin I uncover, inch by inch. Her collarbones come into view and I suck on the delicate area, forcing a moan from her throat, which I then have to kiss because I have a need to feel her moan. My hands unwrap her breasts lovingly, first the dress and then the scrap of a bra she wears underneath. My eyes follow my hands, learning her, getting to know her in the most exclusive ways... "Scully... so lovely. Tell Santa... tell him what you want, for being such a naughty girl all year... tell me. What can I give you... what can I do for you? Anything you want... anything. But you gotta tell me..." She's shy; her cheeks stain soft pink and she won't look directly at me. I raise her chin with one finger, and make her meet my gaze. I want to know… I have to know. "Come on, Baby... tell me... show me. Don't make me ask you twice..." She shys away again. Then I hear it, moaned into my shoulder... she's shuddering against me and moaning into my skin. Uh-uh, Sugar, not good enough... to my face. "To my face, Baby... tell me. To my face. Where should I put my mouth... my hands... myself? Where?" She finally raises her head, and her glittering eyes blaze into mine as she whispers low and fiercely. "I want you... inside. All of you... inside. Your mouth... in me. Your fingers... right up to the knuckle. And your cock... buried so deep it causes me brain damage. Now, Mulder... right now, hurry for God's sake... hurry up..." She shifts a little and her hand is suddenly ripping at the Santa shirt, tugging at it until I pull it off and stand her up in front of me and slide down on my chair until her dripping center is right on a level with my tongue... and with one hard yank her panties and garter belt are gone, and her dress bites the dust next, as I grasp her hips hard and pull her into and over my mouth and bury my tongue so deep... and the scream building in her throat becomes full-blown into a banshee screech as I add a finger or two into the wet haven I have created, there in the sweetness of Dana Scully. I close my eyes and let myself bask in that sweetness... let myself baste slowly, slowly... Feels so good. Tastes so good... I can feel the groans rising up out of me and vibrating inside her as I stroke, nip and lap at her. So good... God. I could do this forever... VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV I don't want this to ever end, this heaven, this magic Mulder is performing on me. Just knowing that I'm standing here and he's doing this to me is nearly enough to push me over the edge. Oh, God! What he's doing to me... That tongue. I stand, wearing nothing but my ruined stockings and stiletto heels, looking like something out of one of Mulder's porn magazines, while my partner's face is buried between my legs. And his tongue is buried even deeper. Long, graceful fingers are gently rubbing and caressing the delicate and receptive places he's found hidden beneath auburn curls. His tongue devours the nectar produced by this stimulation, then plunges in again to slowly lick and excite my aching inner walls. I can feel the fires begin to burn as an orgasm starts building at my center. Mulder's teeth nibble and feast on flesh ultra reactive to the slightest touch, making me writhe against his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation, consumed with want. He's moaning. God, he's moaning, and it's running right though me. Mulder's deep throaty groans resonate inside of me, making my entire body quake with his timbre. And above the high voltage hum he's charged me with, is the sound of my own pleasure. Cries of untamed ecstasy. The keening shouts of a woman who has not known the sexual touch of a man for a very long time. A woman who has ached so deeply for this moment, a chance to give herself over completely to love and longing, to sate her appetite, and to submit to the will of the man who owns her heart. It's too much and not enough, all at the same time. As I look down to watch him, he's gazing up at me through long dark lashes. Our eyes meet in this moment of passion, and I can only wonder if he sees the joy that consumes me. I have wanted this for so long. Wanted HIM for so long. "Oh! Oh, Mulder! God!" My trembling hands tangle through his thick mane, grasping for anything to anchor me as he begins suckling my clit, and plunging his fingers into me, over and over as far as he can. Just like I asked him, just like I begged him to do. I can't stop the gasps and the cries that escape me now. I'm so close... so close... Then suddenly he stops, leaving me desperate and panting. "Noooo! Mulder, please! Don't stop now," I plead with him. But he's already positioned himself back on the sofa, reclining seductively, one hand outstretched, waiting for me to come to him. God, he's gorgeous. I'll never be able to look at another Santa in a mall in quite the same way after this. VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Never in a million years could I have invented a scenario such as this... that I would be meeting the eyes of my partner while in the throes of pre-orgasm... look at her. It's the most incredible sight I have ever seen. Trembling and flushed rosy pink all over, hair floating wildly around her face and half-closed eyes staring down at me in aroused wonder at what I am doing to her. Her hands scrape through my hair and try to hold on, but I can feel their nerveless quaking; she's on the edge and her muscles have no strength, yet I know at this moment her entire body is energized and the blood pumping through her veins could boil an ice cube. Scully glows as she begins to shudder; I can feel her inner walls beginning the slow build toward climax and if I don't stop now this will all be over too soon for her... and as I said before, I want this first time to last. She's going to flay me alive if I stop... she's going to come too soon if I don't. I look up at her once more, still working my tongue and fingers deep inside her; now she's thrown back her head and is gasping... Oh, Jesus, she is so beautiful... I send one more sigh up into her, and pull away, leaning back on the sofa. Her reaction is immediate and swift: eyes snapping open, a look of shocked disbelief on her face as she moans, " Noooo! Mulder, please! Don't stop now..." I try to smile at her reassuringly; hold out my hand for her. On trembling legs she manages to take two short steps, before I can catch hold of her hand and pull her down and into my lap, positioning her so she's facing me. I smile again into her pleading eyes and whisper to her. "Not so fast, Sweetheart... I want to give you much more than just a few minutes of this... I want to make sure you're really prepared to receive Santa's 'gift' to you." Actually, Santa's "gift" is chomping at the bit to be set free from inside these damn furry pants - but I know if I strip now, it'll be all over, and I'm fighting to keep my head clear long enough to go even further. Of course, the feel of Scully squirming on the pole between my legs isn't helping matters; she can't seem to sit still. Guess I created quite a stir up in there, didn't I? Man, what a rush... I did that to her; reduced her to a mass of pleasure points, all clamoring to be set free. The grin on my face seems to stretch forever... about as far as I know my erection can reach. With one hand I caress Scully's soft skin, all over her shoulders and her breasts; she presses her forehead against my neck and shudders. My free hand goes for the sack next to me; I fumble around until I find the bottle of oil. Scully rouses herself enough to see me rummaging, and she slides her soft lips over my neck and shoulder, as she murmurs to me. "Whatcha got in the sack for me, Santa? Something good?" She's biting at my earlobe now, and it's all I can do not to just toss her down and spear into her. I open the bottle with shaky fingers, and hold it under her nose so she can smell it The fragrance of raspberries floats between us, and I lift the bottle to her shoulder and allow some of it to drip onto her skin. As it slips down over one pale breast, I rub it in with my thumb, and then put my mouth on her and suck all the oil off. Tastes so good... raspberries and Scully. I repeat the procedure on her other breast; mustn't neglect that one; it might get jealous. She's moaning again; that sound I really like, and I pour some of the oil into my hand this time, and run it down her body and into her silky curls, adding more flavor into the delicious mix already present there... I can feel her nails digging into my arms as I rub into her, and in a hoarse voice I tell her just how hungry I am; how I have been starving for so long and I intend to make my first meal a substantial one... Then as my fingers begin plucking at her, and I wind my other hand through her hair and tug her mouth to mine... she pushes at my shoulders, hard, and off-balance I land sideways on the sofa... and in a flash she is on me, grabbing for my loose suspenders and pulling at the stupid red furry pants. With one hard tug she's got them down and off my legs, and all I can do is lay there in stunned anticipation, my cock standing straight and no doubt pointing to the real North Pole... if I had a compass I could always check this out, of course... Then my thought processes turn to mush and the tiny amount of blood left in my head evaporates as I behold one Dana Scully plopping herself down on my swollen groin area with the oil in one hand and a wicked glint in her eyes. She pours a healthy stream of oil into her hand and drizzles it all over my abdomen, letting it coat my overheated skin; then she leans into me and lets her upper body do all the massaging, replacing her hands which are busy elsewhere. Oh, Christ... she's got her small fingers burrowing in places that haven't been touched in so long... I'm dying. Slippery with oil, her hands slide over every inch of me, all of my throbbing skin, and her mouth follows. Her mouth, everywhere on me but where I need it, crave it... around each of my balls, tongue teasing me mercilessly; she blows warm breaths against me and the feel of it almost sends me over the edge. I'm not gonna last much longer... gotta tell her to stop... I manage to wheeze out a few gasping words, just as her hot mouth closes over me and she takes me in, deep inside. "Scully... Jesus... you're killing me, stop..." I am fighting for every ounce of control I can muster, so afraid of losing it... I start to tighten up, close to pain; I can feel it building and all she did was place her mouth on me and slide down halfway and I can't hold onto it and I try to grab her head to push her away but my hands seem to have lost all functioning capabilities and as I wonder how in hell I lost the lead in this little dance, Scully lets go with one last nip and tug and that little routine is enough to send me flying... I somehow gather enough strength to dig my fingers into her hips and yank her over and down onto me, impaling her deep. She's so tight... so wet... I've never felt anything like this... every sexual encounter in my life is reduced to less than dust, as I connect with Scully for the first time; as we move against each other. She's kissing me now, as deeply as I am plunging inside of her... and somehow I have managed to hold onto some thread of control... maybe I *can* make this last for more than two seconds... Oh, God... maybe not. I gasp against her mouth as my hips jerk up into her - "Mmmmm, little girl... so naughty. Santa's gonna give it to you good..." VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV Not ten minutes have passed since Mulder arrived at my apartment, and I'm fucking him like there's no tomorrow. Talk about being putty in his hands... Oh, but God, I wanted him so bad. And this... this is right... this is perfect. Mulder inside me, filling me, so deep... deep inside, touching places in me that no one has ever touched before. When he first took me I thought I would split in two. It's been quite a while for me, and I was completely unprepared for the force of his entry. But as always, I am determined to meet any challenge my partner can put before me. I kiss him aggressively, forcing my tongue past his lips flavored with raspberry and the rich fragrant essence of my arousal. We're both moaning, as I press the kiss harder, wanting to swallow him up, greedy for every last drop of this man I've been craving for years. He thrusts up into me, then murmurs with heated breath upon my lips. "Mmmmm, little girl... so naughty. Santa's gonna give it to you good..." Sweet Jesus. "Yes. Give it to me. Give it all to me. I've been very bad, Santa. Give it as hard as you can." My flesh on fire, cheeks burning, lips hot, wet and hungry... fisted hands and manicured nails digging into his skin. Mulder's hips are bucking into me, forcing himself further inside; but as hard as I pound into him, I can't get enough. "Mulder, Mulder... more, please, more," I beg him. And then he says "hold on, Baby," and rolls us off the sofa in one swift and impetuous move. We land with a not so graceful thud onto the floor. "OH!" ...What the hell? "Um, Mulder?" "You okay?" He's immediately concerned as he misconstrues the wincing expression my face contorts into. "Yeah, but..." Arching my back, I reach behind me and give a tug, pulling out Santa's pack, which apparently slipped onto the floor when we rolled off the sofa. It's now quite gooey and wet, the contents having been ruined by our acrobatics... Mmmm, smells like strawberries. Mulder takes the bag from my hand and reaches inside, grabbing a fistful of smashed berries and... ooooh, chocolate too! Just as I start to laugh at the adorable look on his face, he takes the mashed dessert, plops it on my chest, and starts rubbing it over my breasts. God, that's cold! My nipples pucker as he smears the chilly pulp over them. He's intent on his work. Like an artist painting a masterpiece, daubing bits of ripe delicious strawberries and thin pieces of chocolate over my skin, his smoldering green eyes fascinated by his own work. As the heat of my body starts melting the chocolate, Mulder takes the opportunity to spread the sweet candy all over my chest, kneading the soft flesh of my bosom with both his strong hands. "Mmm, little girl, what a treat you left for, Santa. My mouth's watering just looking at this feast." He slides his tongue over his full lips then leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, sucking off the dessert, using his teeth to gently scrape the chocolate off the very tip. "Heavenly," he mumbles in between nibbles. My impish Santa looks up from his feeding, and sits back with a sly grin. "Tell me, Baby, would you like some?" Then he takes his finger and scoops a little of the berries from my other nipple, bringing it to my mouth. "Open up and let me put it in." Oh, God. My eyes close as a flutter of excitement rushes through my center. Anticipating the sweet juice of the berries and the smooth creamy chocolate, I open my mouth, but Mulder keeps his finger just at the edge of my lip... teasing me. And when I try to lift up and take his finger into my mouth, he pulls it away and shakes his head. "I said open up and let ME put it in. You naughty girl, you have to wait until Santa's ready to GIVE it to you." "Please, Santa... Mulder... please. Now." How can he stand it? I'm squirming beneath him, ready, so unbelievably ready to get this show on the road. He's still as can be inside of me. Waiting. Building up the craving. He makes me wait a heartbeat longer before he finally takes mercy and begins rocking his hips into me, thrusting in and out. And my eager mouth is allowed to suck his finger clean. To get back at him for his cruelty I make sure to bite the tip of his finger before he can pull it away. His eyes narrow in warning, but he lets me continue licking the other fingers and his palm until I have consumed every last drop of the syrupy residue. Then he returns to making a meal of my breasts, his appetite becoming more voracious, as he devours all of the stickiness with his hot tongue... And suddenly Mulder's self-control is gone, his fucking becomes wild; he's taking me hard... pounding away, giving me every last inch. Feels so good... so good! He's slamming into me with such fury that I have no doubt there will be bruises on both of us tomorrow. Looking up into his lust driven eyes, I brush away the beads of sweat that have collected on his forehead and he smiles at me. "Scully, baby... do old Santa a favor," he pants. "Wrap those sexy little legs of yours around me." I do, I wrap my legs around his hips, but Mulder slides them up even higher... around his back. "Right there... Keep them there," he commands. Either the men I've been with in the past have had no idea how to fuck a woman, or Mulder has mastered the art; whatever the case, I've never felt anything so incredible before. With a slight shift of his hips, Santa's North pole finds this naughty girl's sweet spot, and my head thrashes back and forth on the hard floor with each penetration. He's got me at the precipice, ready to tumble into orgasm any second... he pushes into me with one final hard thrust and cries out my name. He's coming... Mulder's coming inside me, spilling into me with throbbing pulses of heat. His head drops down to my chest and his open mouth latches onto my breast. He sucks my nipple so hard that it hurts. And to my amazement, this... this pleasure/pain, this idea that Mulder would be out of control with passion, that he has become dangerous... it puts me over the edge. I'm coming too... crying out to the heavens unable to contain my ecstasy, overcome with the explosive force of my climax. Both of our bodies are rigid as the sensation, the release, seizes us and catapults us into free-fall. And then he collapses over me, his hot, sweaty naked body laying atop mine. "Mulder?" I whisper breathlessly, my burning cheek pressed against his. "Yeah, Baby... what?" he breathes into my ear, making me shudder, nearly making me come again with only the rough sex-leaden timbre of his voice. I find myself completely overcome with emotion, whimpering with relief and joy beyond any happiness I have ever known. I've just made love to my partner. And never have I let it all go like that, given myself over entirely, lost myself in another person without being afraid of the intimacy, without holding something back. But it's impossible to hold anything back from this man. This is Mulder. He would never accept less than the whole truth. And so I gave it to him, all of me, heart, mind, body and soul, everything for him, because that's the only thing he would have accepted from me. Anything less would have been a betrayal of the trust that is the foundation of our bond. He lifts his head from my sore but grateful breast and wipes at the tears that are running down my cheeks. I feel stupid for crying. But Mulder is so sweet to reassure me. He smiles tenderly and says, "Would you think less of me as a man if I cried too, Scully?" VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV There are tears in my Scully's eyes, and I put them there. I'd feel bad about that except the feeling is mutual, and with my throat clogged with emotion as well... I could spout them any minute, myself. I have just been given the most intensely amazing gift of my life... and I never knew Santa got any gifts during Christmas... always thought he was just the giver, not the giv-ee. Well, I should re-think that; I suppose Mrs. Claus would have popped him a hard one right before he jumped on that sleigh; after all it would be one damn long night for him. No wonder Santa goes "HO HO HO" all over the world... if he got even one-tenth as good as I've just received, I'd be amazed he could sit upright. I sure can't... I'm crumpled in a heap on a hard floor with my partner splayed out underneath me and I know I'm too heavy; I know she's bruised and sore - and I can't move. I'm still deep inside her and we're both still fighting for breath... all I can do is summon enough strength to kiss the tears off her face and try to keep from re-wetting her cheeks with my own tears. I think it's time we took this someplace a little more comfortable - I think Santa needs to take his little girl to bed properly, and assure her of a night filled with dancing sugarplums. With a groan at the sudden ache of protesting muscles and jarred bones, I carefully lift myself, out of her and off her body; pause one second as I stand on shaky legs, and look down on the most heavenly sight I have ever seen. Scully, on her back, arms and legs flung wide... body stained a rosy pink all over and heated glowing eyes staring up at me. Mouth swollen and lush, still breathing fast... a piece of strawberry still clinging to one sweet nipple. Ah, one last morsel to consume... so thoughtful of her to keep a bit of sustenance for me to have. Keep my strength up, and all that. Santa has to consume a lot of sweetness to help maintain his level of jolliness, you know... I reach down and slip my arms underneath her soft body, and lift her up, holding her against me as I carry her into the bathroom. Sitting my precious burden on the edge of the tub, the cold rim rouses her from post-coital slumber and she mumbles into my neck in sleepy protest. "Mulder... what're we doing in the bathroom?" I steady her with one hand and grab a washcloth with the other, wetting it and beginning to run it over her sticky skin. The morsel of fruit on her nipple begins to slide off and I hurriedly lap it up before it hits the floor, giving her nipple one last small tug; she moans into me and shudders a little. "Mul-derrr..." I kiss her mouth deeply as I clean off the rest of her; don't want to wake her but we can't sleep like this either. Then again... who wants to sleep anyway? Highly overrated, this sleep thing... especially since there's so much more gift-giving I want to accomplish, tonight. Carrying her into the bedroom; slipping into cool cotton sheets and winding the comforter around our exhausted bodies... I know it's relatively early in the evening, but I'm wiped out and Scully fell asleep while I was still drying her off. The novelty of being able to care for her like this... to hold her in my lap, and feel her warm breath against my shoulder as I finish drying her damp skin... amazing. As soon as I settle both of into bed and cover us over, I am overcome with the enormity of what has transpired here tonight. Honestly, the most I'd hoped for was a few hot kisses and maybe a blush and giggle or two, directed at me - for the silliness of the Santa costume. I never really expected Scully would... well, I never really expected. I'd say that Santa has also been very, very good to me, but actually I can think of someone else I can thank for this one... and He's not wearing a furry red suit. Much later, the furnace clicking on wakes me from a light sleep, and I glance at the clock. It's midnight now, officially Christmas morning. I left the tree lights on, and the glow of them shines into the room, enough to illuminate the walls in colors of blue, red and green... matching the colors swimming in my soul. I feel like a lit-up tree myself, all shimmery with heat and decorated with beautiful ornaments... comprised mostly of the bruises and love-bites Scully has bestowed upon me. I gather her tightly against me and bury my face into her hair, feeling her sigh and burrow close. Her sleepy, "Night, Santa... love you so..." sounds in my ear as whispery as a bit of snowy fluff... and even though I am just about unconscious, those words make my heart pound. Did she just say she loves me? Before I can voice the question, she tosses a tired chuckle into my neck, and whispers, "Oh, Mulder? Love you, too... even more than Santa..." My eyes close in relief; I like to have these little things quantified, set straight in my head. All part of being a good agent... collect the facts, just the facts, Ma'am. And I am falling fast, almost gone, but I manage one small reply before I crash. "Merry Christmas, Scully... Love you too... show you later, how much..." Her feathery, "Mmmmmm..." is the last thing I hear. A bright, snowy Christmas morning... and all's well with the world. Well, all's well with me, at least - and if the rest of the world felt as fantastic as I feel right now, it would be a much better place in which to live... I am lying on my stomach in Scully's soft bed, with her little body pressed over me. Somehow in the night, as I got into my usual deep-sleep position of on-stomach, she crawled over me and now covers me like a blanket. Feels so good... no wonder I slept the sleep of the dead. Scully makes one damn fine blanket... I am toasty warm and tingling all over. Or maybe the tingle stems from both my legs gone numb and suddenly resurging with blood... ah, who cares? It's Christmas morning and I'm in Scully's bed and life is good. Carefully and gently I turn us both, slipping out from underneath her warm weight and positioning her beside me, still sleeping. I want to wake her up in the best way possible, with kisses and caresses; want to love her slowly for a long, wet while... but first I want to indulge myself and just gaze at her, sleeping beside me in my arms. So beautiful... so much loveliness it makes me ache. Beauty inside and out... her mind and her soul, as well. God... I am one lucky son of a bitch. I slide my fingers through her tangled hair, careful not to wake her, and ruminate on the night before. I thought I knew women; thought I knew all about sex... shit. I knew nothing; nothing whatsoever. Dumber than a box of rocks, that's me. What I gleaned in knowledge from one all-too-short session with Scully... made every other past encounter a sad joke, at best. Her mouth... her soft skin and perfect breasts and the way it felt to be deep inside her; not only deep in her body but embedded in her soul. I touched Scully's soul, and she was sweet enough to return the favor and touch mine in response. I'll never need another present of any kind for the rest of my life, not after last night. I sigh in total contentment, and press my face into her silky hair, prepare to doze off once more... "Hey, Santa... don't fall asleep, Buddy; you owe me another present - and I owe you as well. In fact, I've been waiting all night..." her soft words penetrate my almost-slumber, and I open one eye, to find her wide awake with a smile of such glory on her face it's all I can do to swallow the sudden, huge lump in my throat. She moves closer and her lips touch mine sweetly; I feel myself grin against her lips, and pull away just enough to look into her blue eyes. "Scully... you slept the sleep of the dead all night long, same as I did... if you'd been waiting all night to give me something I would have known about it..." Her ladylike snort echoes through the room. "I was awake off and on all night, Mulder... waiting for you. Hot for your wondrous "North pole"... I figure you still owe me another dance around that aforementioned pole. I about wet myself, thinking about it... all night long… mmmm, so good. If you don't believe me, check out your back..." She punctuates her words with one small finger, running down my back to just below my waist; then brings the finger to my face and shows me. Wet, glistening a bit... Scullywet. She must have dripped against me when she was lying on my back... oh, God. I stare at that wet finger, my head exploding with images of what she must have been feeling all night, there on my back. And I wasted it all by doing something as dumb, as useless, as sleeping... I take hold of her hand and suck the moisture slowly from her finger, making her close her eyes and moan softly. "Oohh, tastes like some little girl I gave lots of gifts to, just last night... I got several more for you, Darlin', but before I give you the biggest one let me give you something else..." and rising from the bed, promising her I'll be right back... I head for the other room to retrieve the gift I had bought last week. I can't wait to see her face when she opens this one... I stride back into her bedroom and leap onto the bed, causing her to bounce up about a foot. She giggles and sits up, holding out both hands for the gaily-wrapped present which I produce with a flourish, from behind my back. I wrapped it in base ball paper... but she doesn't catch on right away; she looks at me quizzically and points at the bats and balls crawling all over the paper, inquires sweetly, "Low on holiday paper, Mulder? Using up your stock of theme wrap? You shouldn't have..." I chuckle at her choice of words and slide a finger down her spine, then follow it with my tongue. She shudders a bit, but continues to finger the paper, and pick at the tape. "Scully... the last time you spoke those words to me, I gave you a night to remember... why would this be any difference?" She snorts and tears at the garish paper. "You already gave me a night to remember... I'm still sore from it... ooh, a card..." She's found the card I had taped to the box. She opens it and reads aloud. "To Scully, from Fox Mantle... Roses are Red… Violets are Blue... Santa's got one for you... Shoo-bee-doo-bee-Doo..." She gives me the raised-eyebrow look, trying very hard not to laugh. "Such a poet, Mulder... couldn't find any more 'oo' words to rhyme, huh?" I merely shrug, and watch her face carefully as she brushes aside the rest of the wrapping paper, to reveal my gift. "Oh, Mulder... this is wonderful! I love this..." I had gotten her a Yankee baseball jersey; on the back are the words, "X-Team" and her name emblazened in gold, underneath. It's too big for her, but she immediately slips into it and roots around in the box for the smaller package I had put on top of the jersey. More exclamation as she opens it... a punch card for batting lessons. I chance a peek at her as she turns the card over and reads the information concerning times and valid locations... wondering if she really likes it or is just being polite. I find out very quickly, as she suddenly throws herself on me and lays a lip lock on my mouth that literally knocks me flat on my back. In between kisses and then more kisses, I manage to get a few words in. "So, Scully... guess this means you like my gift, huh? So when do I get mine? Santa usually gets milk and cookies when he delivers... I don't recall any milk but I got a lot of cookie last night... I wanna know how much more I can expect..." Her answering smile is definitely on the elfish side as she whispers to me. "I got lots of cookie for you, Santa… you have no idea." VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV I'm rethinking this whole conspiracy theory of mine. Perhaps the fates were not dealing me such a bad hand as I originally determined. The outcome of their interference is certainly good. Hoo boy, is it good. Although, I can't say with any sort of accuracy whether the end result was the direct effect of cosmic meddling or my own stubborn refusal to be beaten. Whatever the cause, the fact that this Christmas morning I find myself in bed with Mulder, kissing him, rubbing my dripping needy sex against his morning erection and shamelessly nibbling on his bottom lip, I'm grateful for all factors that brought about this Christmas miracle. Reluctantly, I slip out of his embrace, letting go of that yummy lip only as a last resort. He moans his disapproval at my leaving the bed, making a grab to stop me just a fraction too slow to be successful. "I'll be right back," I promise, then hurry off to retrieve the gift I have for him. The package is under the tree, which glows festively in the early morning light. A quick glance around at the condition of my living room fills my head with wonderful visions of last night. I pick up the earring I dropped when I first caught sight of Santa Mulder, and I adjust the sofa cushions that are in a state of disarray after our holiday merry making. Santa's pack is still in a heap on the floor, stained with berry pulp and chocolate. I can't help the shiver that runs through me when I think of Mulder's hot tongue licking that sweet juice off my body, his mouth suckling my breasts. For just a second I shut my eyes and revisit the thrill. Mmm... Then it occurs to me. What the hell am I doing out here daydreaming when Mulder's in my bed waiting for me? I don't have to survive on fantasies anymore. I've got the real thing now. Mulder. He's finally all mine. And I fully intend to make up for lost time. I pick up the Santa bag, planning to set the sticky mess in the sink to be dealt with later... much later, if I have anything to do with the day's itinerary. It's then that I notice that there's still more to be discovered, something heavy waiting inside Santa's pack. No matter how badly I want to get back Mulder, the investigator in me won't allow this curiosity to go ignored. So I peek. Well, well, Santa brought champagne to ply me with. Guess he didn't realize just how receptive I would be to his advances. Receptive. That's a nice way to put it, considering that I fell into his arms and begged him to take me. I was receptive... VERY receptive. In retrospect, I suppose I should have at least made a pretense of virtue. "Scully!" Mulder calls out from the bedroom. "What's taking you so long?" On second thought, I don't think either of us could have waited another second longer than we did. Giggling, I gather up the bottle of bubbly, a couple of flutes from the kitchen, and tuck Mulder's Christmas present under my arm. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Mulder says as I climb back into bed and straddle his lap. "A very beautiful and sexy woman, wearing nothing but a Yank's jersey and a smile, champagne in hand... I'd say this is shaping up to be quite a happy holiday." "Don't forget your present, Mulder." I set the package on his bare chest and blush a little, imagining the response I'm going to get when he discovers what I've selected for him this year. At the time, it was a perfectly innocent gift. Something practical and thoughtfully chosen. Now, well... He scoots up higher on his throne of pillows, easily taking me right along with him. Setting aside the bottle and glasses, I watch with anticipation as he removes the bright red bow first, then carefully tears at the shiny green paper, slowly savoring the moment. He glances up at me a few times in the process, probably wondering at the rouge on my cheeks. As soon as he sees what I've given him, his face breaks into a wide grin. "Scully... A speaker phone!" he chokes out the words, fighting a losing battle not to laugh. But I can't hold it in either, and when I let go so does he. We're both hysterical to the point of tears, rolling on the bed in each other's arms, until somewhere along the line the laughter gives way to kissing and we start to make love, much more tenderly but no less passionately than the night before. I've come to be a lot more open minded these days about a great many things. Though I'll always be thought of as a skeptic by Mulder's standards, I have stopped discounting extreme possibilities off hand. I've seen enough myths come to life before my eyes, that I can no longer reasonably deny the potentiality of the unlikely, however farfetched it may seem. But who'd have thought this? Me, Dana Scully... believing in Santa Claus? ~END~ Authors' Notes: TBishop talking: Just wanted to take a moment to thank Char for granting me the opportunity to work with her on this project. She's an incredible talent, and it's been a wonderful experience writing with her. One I would gladly repeat any time. I hope that you all enjoyed this lurid holiday novella. And in case you're wondering, yes... 1-900-OH-SANTA is for real. If you can get through. The damn line's always busy! Imagine that. TBishop (aka Scully) Life is too short to drink bad wine... or bad champagne! Happy Holidays! You can now find all my stories at: http://members.xoom.com/arcticfox42/Tbishop.htm or http://tbishop.freeservers.com/ Char talking: The pleasure was all mine, T... this has been a blast. Working with an amazing author such as TBishop is always a great experience. And having said that, Merry Christmas to all, and may your every fantasy come true this holiday season (even the NakedSanta one!) Char (aka Mulder) Please visit my web site at: http://char.chaffin.com