Author: Andrea

Title: The Order of Things

Rating: NC-17

Category: MSR, Scully POV, PWP

Disclaimer: I wish...then there would be no ninth season,
never mind a semi-Mulderless eighth.

Archiving: I'd be honoured, but I'd also like to know.

Notes: Thank you Aly and Dan for the great beta!
There are no timelines in the vicinity of this story.

Summary: Mulder is hardly typical.

Spoilers: up to and including all things.

Feedback: Yes Please! ardywyn@hotmail.com

All of my stories can be found on my page;
http://members.home.net/faloona4/atlast.html

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Something had happened in my relationship with Mulder. I'm not
sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line we seemed to
have skipped a step. I'd always been taught that there was a
certain order to the way a relationship progressed. You met
someone, you dated, if things were working out it became sexual.
In my mother's era, and she hoped in mine, you got married.

Naturally, things hadn't happened like that with Mulder and me.
First we'd been colleagues, then friends. Our friendship had even
gotten a little flirty and we'd shared a tentative kiss. Most
relationships would have progressed into something more physical
after that, but not us. No, we had skipped the physical part and
gone straight into the old married couple stage. Regrettably, it
was without the benefit of the seemingly mandatory once-a-week
sex.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Neither of us had ever
been content to do what was expected of us. It was just that I
hadn't seen it coming. I opened my eyes one night and there it
was. Mulder was now so comfortable around me that he didn't even
close the bathroom door all the way. We rarely spent a night
apart unless we were on the road. We didn't share a bed. Usually
we ended up at his place; I'd sleep in the bed and he'd take the
couch. The first time he'd covered me with a blanket and left me
on the couch, but I'd woken up with such a stiff neck, he'd never
left me there again.

I wasn't entirely unhappy with the arrangement. It wasn't what
most people would consider a healthy relationship, but if I had
my choice of this way of life with Mulder or something normal
with someone else, I'd choose Mulder, hands down. I probably
wouldn't even recognize normal now if I tripped over it anyway.

I was mildly surprised to realize that Mulder apparently had
noticed our new relationship too. He'd joked that we were wasting
money having two apartments. I'd laughed with him and pointed out
that at least we were saving on groceries. We'd said nothing more
about it; we just kept keeping on.

Months past before anything changed and as was typical of
anything involving Mulder, I never would've guessed the way it
would change. I'd fantasized about tearful confessions of love;
or complicated explanations about what had held us back. I'd
dreamt that one day we'd just fall into each other's arms and
make mad, passionate love under the moonlight. After all of
the time I'd spent with Mulder, I should have learned to expect
the unexpected.

As had become my habit, I'd started to drift off on the couch.
Mulder usually roused me and sent me off to bed, but instead he
picked me up and carried me to the bed. I was conscious enough
to realize it was odd, but sleepy enough that I didn't want to go
to the trouble of actually speaking.

It happened when he put me down. When he tried to slide his hand
out from underneath me, he brushed the side of my breast. I
groaned. It wasn't a 'why did you do that, Mulder?' groan, it was
a 'please do that again, Mulder,' groan. Apparently he noticed
the difference, because he did just that. He was cautious at
first, but he began to gently caress my breasts through my
blouse.

Behind closed lids, my eyes rolled back in my head and
another groan passed my lips. With this reinforcement, Mulder
became less tentative. Initially he only had one knee on the
bed, but then I felt him kneel beside me. As he continued to
caress and squeeze me, occasionally passing his thumbs over my
now erect nipples, I couldn't keep my hips still.

Mulder seemed content to keep his hands on the outside of my
blouse, but I was craving more contact. I was on the verge of
undoing the buttons myself when I felt his hands begin the task.
He didn't take it off; he simply opened it to remove a layer.
Then he repeated the same motions as he had through my shirt, but
now only my bra was separating our skin.

Through the flimsy material I could feel the heat of his hand
as he caressed me. I could feel the contours of his thumb as
he ran it over my peak. My hips were in constant motion, and
I'd flung my arms over my head, but I hadn't opened my eyes. I
feared if I dared to look a him, the spell would be broken and
I'd lose his magical touch.

It seemed like an eternity before his hand slipped beneath me
to release the clasp on my bra. Again, he didn't remove it, he
merely pushed it up to gain direct access to my breasts. With the
first skin to skin contact, I sucked a quick breath in between my
teeth creating a whistling noise. It was then I heard the first
sound from Mulder. It wasn't loud, or long, but it was there; a
rumble from deep in his chest.

Mulder's treatment of my breasts changed. Now that they were
bare he was concentrating on my nipples. First he would pass the
flat of his hand over me and then tug at my nipple. He repeated
this action over and over again, first teasing one breast then
the other. I kept thinking to myself that his next touch could
not possibly feel so exquisite, but it did. I was starting to
feel euphoric. My breathing had become shallow and rapid and my
blood was pumped full of adrenaline and endorphins, but I still
didn't open my eyes.

Mulder seemed to be fine-tuned to my breaking point. Every time
I thought I couldn't take anymore; that I'd have to ask for
something, he'd change what he was doing. When he lowered his
mouth to my nipple I cried out and clutched at the pillow. My
hips rose off the bed. This created another rumbling in Mulder's
throat that vibrated through my breast and made me shudder.

Instead of tormenting me endlessly as he had been, he reached to
remove my jeans, keeping one hand on my breast. I didn't help
him, I couldn't, my brain seemed to be disconnected from my
voluntary muscles. I could only focus on where he was touching
me. Consequently my jeans ended up around my knees. Then with one
hand still on my breast he began to caress me through my panties.

That action precipitated a most unrefined grunt from me and I
lifted my hips to meet his hand. While still tantalizing my
nipple with one hand, he slipped the fingers of his other hand
under the leg band of my panties. Again, I grunted, but this time
it may have been in the name of a deity. I'd barely come down from
the rush created by that touch when I felt him push my panties
down to the level of my jeans.

At that point, he paused. His hand was on my breast, but
motionless. I'd almost decided to open my eyes to see what he
was doing when I felt him move quickly to strip me of my jeans
and panties. His hand returned to my breast quickly, and I let
out the breath I'd been holding when he parted my legs.

I expected him to position himself between my thighs, but yet
again, I was mistaken. Instead he began to explore my sex with
his fingers while still caressing my breast and tugging at my nipples. My
hips jerked when he grazed my already throbbing
clit and I thrust my head backward into the pillow. Using the
abundant moisture he'd found inside of me, he began to make
circular motions around my clit, passing over it only
occasionally.

My orgasm began to build immediately; the tingling in my belly
was unmistakable. I kept waiting for him to move so that he could
use his mouth, but he didn't. Somehow, even in my lust induced
stupor, I realized what he was doing. I could feel that his knees
were angled toward my head, and from the sound of his breathing I
could tell his head was turned in the same direction. Mulder was
watching me; watching my face to see my reactions.

This knowledge in combination with the way his fingers were
manipulating my clitoris was enough to start the lights flashing
behind my lids. As my body pitched and quaked, I heard Mulder
groan as well, sending another shuddering wave through me. As I
lay panting, I felt the bed move. Before I had a chance to drag
my eyes open, the bed dipped again and I felt Mulder between my
legs.

He didn't lower his body to mine, instead he gently lifted my
legs and pushed my knees back toward me. Then he began to ease
into me incredibly slowly. Before he was completely inside of me,
the feeling began to build. It was the most exquisite sensation I
could ever remember and I whimpered his name. His next stroke was
faster and deeper, magnifying the sensation and making me gasp.

With each stroke, Mulder's thrusts became harder and faster. My
head was thrashing on the pillow and I was clawing at his biceps.
In my head, I was repeating the mantra, "Yes, yes, yes," and
when Mulder began to grunt, I realized I was saying it out loud.
I'm not sure if I had one huge, incredible, endless orgasm or if
I peaked again and again, but finally my body could handle no
more, and I went limp beneath him.

It was then Mulder spoke for the first time since he'd carried
me to the bed. They weren't six words I'd expected to hear, but
they were spoken with such gentleness, I could hardly believe
it.

"Can you get to your knees?"

Perhaps some women would have been incensed, but the tenderness
in his tone held everything I needed from him. On top of that,
he'd just given me the single best orgasm I'd ever had. How could
I deny doing what he wanted? For the first time, I opened my
eyes; meeting his dark ones, scanning my face. I must have smiled
up at him, because a sly grin slowly spread across his face,
creating a warmth in my belly as I turned to get to my knees.

When he slid into me again, we both groaned. Unlike the last time,
this time there was no slow build up. He began to thrust hard and
fast right away. I sensed from the way his muscles had tensed,
that his climax was not far off. I clenched my internal muscles
to try to increase his pleasure. His grunt and final shuddering
thrusts assured me that I'd succeeded.

He collapsed to the bed, bringing me with him. After some less
than agile scrambling, we ended up under the covers. Mulder
was on his back and he'd pulled me close to him. Neither of us
said a word; I didn't feel the need to. I'd never felt more
content in my life. Mulder's arms were around me and before his
breathing deepened he lifted up my chin to kiss me. It was a
long, deep kiss; our tongues slowly learning each other's mouths.
That kiss said everything I needed to know.

Our relationship may not have followed any typical pattern, but
that fact is what made it special to me. If Mulder had brought me
flowers and asked me out on a date, I would have been on the phone
to the Cumberland Reformatory to see if Eddie Van Blundht had
escaped.

end

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