TITLE:  Outfield Interlude
SPOILER STATEMENT:  The Unnatural; a small one for "Alpha"
RATING:  NC-17
CONTENT STATEMENT:  M/S married.  Smut.  And I guess I've gotta cop a
plea:  There is some sap herein.
CLASSIFICATION:  VR
SUMMARY:   Post-ep for "The Unnatural"  A "Making It Personal" story. 
Every relationship has its ups and downs.  This is one of the ups.  ;)
THANKS:  To Brynna, Jen, Paulette, Robbie, Shannon and Sharon
 
 
 

Outfield Interlude

by Brandon D. Ray
 

Eventually we grew tired of batting practice.

The evening was still comparatively young, though -- at least, for a
Saturday night it was.  And so I paid off the boy and told him Scully
and I would take care of gathering up the baseballs.  Which we will. 
Eventually.  Right now we're just too damned comfortable.

After the boy left I went back to my car just long enough to grab the
blanket and picnic basket I'd stashed in the trunk.  Scully trailed
along after me, and I saw her eyebrows shoot up in surprise when I
turned back to face her, those two items in my hands.

"I think I've been set up," she said in an amused tone of voice.

I smiled and nodded.  "I do believe you're correct, Agent Scully," I
replied, offering her my elbow.  She chuckled and took my arm, and
together we moved back out across the baseball diamond.

She'd been set up, all right, I mused to myself as we walked on out into
right field.  But then, she'd probably suspected as much from the moment
she got the message from "Fox Mantle" asking her to meet me at the ball
field.  Pay more attention to the mystery of the heart, Arthur Dales had
enjoined me this afternoon.  Well, Mr. Dales, I intend to do just that.

Finally we wound up spreading the blanket on the ground about 250 feet
from home plate, and a hundred feet short of the chain-link homerun
fence.  Now we're both stretched out on the blanket, Scully curled up
against my side with her head on my shoulder, and the open picnic basket
a few feet away on her other side.  When we first sat down we munched a
little of the fruit and cold cuts I brought along; now we're just lying
here together, quietly enjoying each other's company and looking at the
stars.

Scully sighs and moves a little closer to me, throwing her left leg up
across my hips.  Since we finally consummated our marriage ten days ago,
casual acts of intimacy have gotten a little easier for both of us. 
We've only made love twice more since then, but our comfort level has
increased dramatically.  I tighten my arm around her shoulders, very
slightly.

"Two months," Scully murmurs, her breath tickling the base of my neck. 
"That's what this is about, isn't it?"

I chuckle softly and lean over to kiss her lightly on the forehead. 
"Not much gets by you, does it, Agent Scully?" I reply.  She simply
smiles and shakes her head, and snuggles yet closer.

She *is* right, of course.  Tonight's our two month anniversary.  Our
two month *wedding* anniversary, strange as that idea still seems.

Even before I had my encounter with Arthur Dales I'd intended for this
to be a special night.  I didn't have more than the vaguest idea of what
I wanted to do, but I knew I wanted it to be special.  Once I'd heard
Dales' story, though, I knew exactly what I wanted:

I wanted us to play.  Have fun.  In the words of my adorable, enigmatic
and occasionally infuriating partner and wife, I wanted us to get a
life, even if it was only for a few hours.

Seems like maybe I got my wish.

My gaze drops down to Scully's left hand, resting comfortably on the
center of my chest.  Seeing her bare ring finger reminds me that there
is still one industrial-sized fly in our happy little ointment.  More
than one, actually, but this is the one that's been bothering me the
most these last few days, since the conclusion of the Padgett case.  And
suddenly I want to talk about it.  Now.

"Scully, do you want a ring?"

She hesitates, then replies softly, "I already have a ring." She doesn't
raise her head, but simply lifts her hand to touch the spot on her
blouse over my class ring before returning her hand to its spot on my
chest.

"That's not what I mean, Scully," I reply, equally softly.  I take her
hand and kiss the bare ring finger.  "I mean a wedding ring.  You know
that."  I don't know why, but this conversation has suddenly become very
important to me.  Scully seems to have realized that, because now she
raises her head up off my shoulder and seems to study my face, a
thoughtful expression on her own features.

"I don't know," she says at last.  "I guess so, at some point."  She
smiles slightly.  "It would be nice to be just a *little*
conventional."  Then she turns serious again, and squirms against me
until her face is only inches from my own.  "But I don't need one right
this minute," she continues.  "I've got everything I really need
already.  Right here."  And then she kisses me.

We've been getting pretty good at this kissing thing the past two
months, and this particular kiss goes on for quite awhile.  I was
already semi-erect just from having Scully cuddled up next to me; by the
time she finally lets me come up for air I'm hard as a rock.

I'm not *quite* ready to let the subject drop, however.  Sex is good,
and making love is even better, and I have a pretty strong intuition
that's going to play a part in tonight's festivities -- but this other
stuff is important, too.

"Scully," I say, "I think we *should* get you a ring.  And maybe me,
too."  I place another kiss on her ring finger.  "I *want* to get you a
ring.  And I want to have a proper ceremony, something your mother and
brothers can attend.  And -- "

"Mulder," she says, freeing her hand and pressing her fingertips against
my lips.  "Mulder, it's okay," she continues.  "I want those things too,
but we don't need to do it all right away.  We've got plenty of time."

I feel a chill pass through my body at her words, although I have no
idea why -- but there's no time to consider the matter, because Scully's
still speaking.

"Right now we're just barely getting to the point where we're really
comfortable with all this," she says.  "I want to take a little more
time so we can just enjoy being with each other.  Okay?"  And she kisses
me again.

This kiss goes on even longer than the first one, and by the time it's
over we're both gasping for breath.  Scully has crawled around until now
she's lying almost completely on top of me, and her hand on my chest is
fingering one of my nipples through the rough cloth of my baseball
jersey and the underlying shirt.  She's also gently but deliberately
rubbing her thigh against my erection ....

"Scully," I whisper, and then I have to stop to clear my throat and
begin again.  "Scully?  Maybe we should be heading for home?"

Scully smiles, but shakes her head.  "Not yet," she says -- and then she
lowers her head to my shoulder again and starts nibbling on my neck.

Automatically, my arms tighten around her, and I groan softly and tilt
my head to give her a better angle.  All those years when we were just
platonic partners, I never guessed that Scully would be sexually
aggressive, but she is.  All three of our encounters so far -- four, if
you count the aborted attempt in our office -- have been initiated by
her.  That's at least in part due to my own residual uncertainty that
Dana Scully could really be interested in someone like me.  I'm working
on that, though ....

Now the hand which had been teasing my nipple is sliding down my chest
to my belly.  At first I think she just wants to get under my shirt, but
she keeps right going past the hem of my jersey, and I realize just
before she gets there that --

Oh, Christ ....

Scully's hand gently strokes my erection through the denim of my jeans,
causing my hips to jerk reflexively.  My wife chuckles softly, squeezing
me slightly with her hand, and then takes another nip at my neck.

Okay, so that's the way she wants to play it.  I don't know exactly how
far she wants to go with this, but I'm happy to go along for the ride.

As Scully continues to work on my neck and rub her hand across my
erection, I slide both of my hands down her body, finally coming to rest
on her lower back.  We're both still learning about each other's bodies,
but I've already discovered that her lower back is one of Scully's hot
spots.  And that's where I begin my assault.

Within seconds Scully is moaning against my neck, squirming and rubbing
the length of her body against mine -- which of course just makes it
better for me, too.  Before very long just stroking her back through her
clothes isn't enough anymore, so I roll onto my side, carrying Scully
with me, and immediately bring one of my hands up between us to cup one
of her breasts.

"Jesus ... Mulder ...."  Her voice is somewhere between a gasp and a
moan as she ceases ministering to my neck and captures my mouth with
hers once again.  This kiss is frantic, savage, her tongue plunging into
my mouth and aggressively probing and exploring.  My right hand
continues caressing her breast, while the other leaves her lower back to
grip the back of her neck, holding her firmly in place as the kiss
progresses.  We're both moaning almost constantly, but I'm already so
far gone I can no longer tell which sounds belong to whom.

Scully's left hand continues to squeeze and fondle the bulge in my
jeans, causing my hips to spasm intermittently.  It's really getting
uncomfortably tight down there, but her touch feels so damned good I
can't bear to make her stop.

Abruptly the hand under my jersey is gone, and a moment later I feel
something tugging at my jeans.  I barely have time to figure out she's
pulling my zipper down before one of her hands delves into my now-open fly.

I break the kiss.  "S-scully," I manage to stutter out.  "Wait."

Immediately her hand stops moving, and anxiety and tension begin to
replace the desire and hunger which had been in her eyes only seconds
earlier.  This is still so very new for both of us, I remind myself.  It
would be so easy for us to hurt each other through a misunderstanding. 
Once again I recall that night in our office, after we got back from the
Berquist case.  I pushed her away that night, and the look on her face
now is very similar to what it was then.

"Mulder?" she asks, softly and hesitantly.

"It's okay, Scully," I reassure her, still a little short of breath. 
I'm not pushing you away, I add with my eyes.  "I, I just think maybe we
should pack up everything and go back to your place.  Or my place."  I
stroke her breast lightly through her clothes, and smile as she shudders
slightly in response.  "Or even the nearest motel.  I'm not fussy at
this point."

That gets me a raised eyebrow.  "A motel?" she replies.  "Why a motel? 
What's wrong with right --" and she squeezes my cock through the thin
cloth of my boxers "-- here?"

"Here?" It takes all my willpower just to get that word out.  Her
strong, warm fingers have started to stroke and caress me again, and now
there's essentially nothing between her hand and my cock to lessen the
sensation.  "Scully," I manage to get out, "this is a public place!"

"That's true, it is," Scully murmurs.  As she continues to speak she
begins planting soft, delicate kisses along my jaw.  "But it's almost
midnight."  Kiss, kiss, kiss.  "No cars have gone by for at least an
hour."  Kiss, kiss.  "And even if someone *did* happen by --" kiss,
kiss, kiss "-- they'd probably just turn around and walk away."  A long,
slow lick from the base of my neck to just under my ear.

"But ... the police ... "  My voice trails off as Scully goes to work on
my ear, flicking her tongue in and out of it repeatedly.

"The police?"  A soft, sexy chuckle, followed by a nip on my earlobe,
just as her hand finally slips into the fly of my boxers.  "Mulder, we
*are* the police.  Remember?"  Her fingers touch my erection, and I moan
and jerk my hips.  "And if a D.C. cop *did* happen to come along, the
most he would do would be to tell us to zip up --" delicate squeeze "--
and move along."

Christ.  She's serious.  She actually wants to do this -- she actually
wants to make love here on this damned ball field.  It occurs to me that
she doesn't sound as if it's a new idea to her, either, but before I can
really process this apparent fact she gives my cock yet another gentle
squeeze, transfers her tongue to the side of my neck which she'd been
neglecting -- and her hand starts sliding slowly up and down my shaft.

While I've been analyzing her behavior, she's been trying to unbuckle my
belt with one hand while continuing to stroke my erection with the
other.  There's something oddly comforting about the way she's handling
me now.  Even as I'm becoming more and more aroused, I'm also getting
more relaxed and comfortable with the whole situation.

Finally I just give up.  This is going to happen, and I might as well
cooperate and enjoy myself.  So as Scully continues to fumble with my
belt buckle and the button on my jeans, I slide one hand back around to
start caressing her lower back again, while the other slips up under her
shirt to resume fondling her breasts.

She finally gets my belt and jeans unfastened, then pulls away, sitting
up to push my jeans and boxers down around my knees before quickly
disposing of her own clothes.  I promptly follow suit -- or unsuit, more
accurately -- and as she stretches out next to me again I grab the far
corner of the blanket to drape it over us, hiding the essentials from
any prying eyes that might happen along.  Then she presses her body
against mine once more, and we both groan with pleasure -- and her left
hand resumes its now-accustomed stroking of my cock.

Before she can go back to working on my neck, however, I take her face
between my hands and kiss her -- and this time it's *my* tongue that's
doing the exploring.  Deep into her mouth I probe, and she accepts me
willingly, tilting her head back and cupping the back of my head with
her free hand, tangling her fingers through my hair.

At last we break apart, just enough to breathe, and as I move to plant
another kiss just below her ear I murmur, "From the way you were talking
it sounds like you've done this before, Scully.  Done the wild thing in
the great outdoors, I mean."  I don't know quite why I asked that
question; I certainly didn't plan it out in advance.  But I'm finding
her attitude towards this whole thing unexpectedly exciting, and I want
to know more.

She gives a throaty chuckle, just this side of a giggle, and says,
"Yeah.  Yeah I have, a long time ago."  Her hand continues its slow,
sensual up-and-down movement on my erection.  "There's not much to tell
though, really.  It was the summer before my senior year in college, and
there was this guy named Mike -- a Navy friend of Bill's who was
visiting us.  We hit it off and went out a few times, and one night
after everyone else had gone to bed we were sitting out on the porch,
just talking -- and he started kissing me, and one thing led to another
... "

Her voice trails off, and I wait to see if she's going to continue, but
she doesn't seem to be inclined to do so.  Finally, I say, "And?"

She shrugs, but now she seems embarrassed, making me wonder if maybe I
should have just let it drop.  "No 'and' to speak of, I'm afraid,
Mulder.  We were both young and inexperienced, and it lasted about five
minutes.  I like to think he got more out of it than I did, but who
knows?"  She gives a wry laugh.  "And the next day he told me very
gently that I was a sweet girl but he was seeing someone else and when
he got back to Hawaii he was going to ask her to marry him.  I was
crushed, of course, but he and Bill left the day after that, and I never
saw him again."

"I'm sorry, Scully," I say softly, wishing I could think of something
more eloquently comforting to say.  "That must have hurt a lot."

"Yeah, it did," she says, shrugging.  "But it was a long time ago, and
it was a learning experience."  She smiles slightly, perhaps a bit
wistfully.  "That which does not destroy me makes me stronger, right?"

She seems to notice at the same instant I do that her hand on my cock
has stopped moving, and now her smile broadens as she starts it up
again.  "Besides," she goes on in a lighter tone of voice, "if I'd
gotten tangled up with Mike I might not have been available when you
came along, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"  And she moves a
little closer until there's no space between our bodies at all, and once
again she presses her lips against mine.

I don't know if it will ever be possible for me to catalogue all the
different sorts of kisses Dana Scully has shared with me.  This one is
tender and loving and giving, and so damned sweet it almost makes me
want to cry, which is something I haven't done in a romantic situation
since before I met Phoebe.

God, this woman can kiss.  Her lips and tongue seem to be everywhere,
and the sweet taste of her mouth and the scent of her arousal just
contribute to the rapidly-building sensory overload.  And of course, her
body rubbing against mine and her hand continuing its slow, sensual
slide up and down my shaft just makes it better.

My own hands have not been idle, of course.  One is now stroking the
length of her spine, being careful to include that spot on her lower
back, of course, while the other is cupping and caressing one of the
cheeks of her ass.  Her hips are moving restlessly, and so are mine, and
the air around us is filled with the mingled sounds of our pleasure.

At last our lips separate once again, and Scully buries her face in the
hollow of my neck.  "God, Mulder," she whispers, her lips tickling my
shoulder as she speaks.  "God, you feel so good."  She tightens her grip
on me slightly, apparently wanting to ensure that I know what part of me
she's talking about.  "I love touching you like this, holding you in my
hand.  It feels so ... powerful.  Like there's an electric current
running between us."  She chuckles slightly, I know not at what.  "It's
almost like a switch has been flicked somewhere."

"It feels pretty good to me, too, Scully," I reply softly.  And it
really does, and I don't just mean physically.  There's a profound sense
of connectedness and sharing here, a level of intimacy I don't remember
ever experiencing before.  I'm still pondering this strange new feeling,
wallowing in it, really, when Scully suddenly lifts up again and scoots
around until her head is resting on my belly.  And when she speaks again
her voice is soft and dreamy.

"I really, *really* like this, Mulder," she says, now bringing both
hands to bear on my penis and balls.  Her fingers are just fluttering
around, touching here, stroking there, and occasionally giving a gentle
squeeze for good measure.  "I could do this for hours," she continues in
the same quiet, sing-songy voice.  "Days."  I hear a low chuckle.  "But
I bet you wouldn't like that very much.  Not after awhile, anyway."

I'm about to take exception to that statement; I want to tell her that I
actually could just lie here and let her fondle and touch me for days on
end, because it's so heartbreakingly intimate and personal.  But before
I can get the words out her head moves slightly, and then I feel
something warm and wet sliding up the length of my shaft.

Oh, god ....

My hips jerk spasmodically, and I don't even have time to fully process
this sudden new sensation before I feel her lips close around the tip. 
Oh, god, Scully ... Scully ... Oh, Jesus ....  All I can seem to force
out of my mouth are inarticulate grunts and moans -- and every time I
think I'm about to get myself back under control she takes a little more
of me into her mouth, intermittently swirling her tongue around the head
while her fingers continue to stroke and tickle the parts still exposed
to the air.

"S-scully," I finally force out.  "Scully, you don't have -- " But then
she finally takes the whole thing into her mouth, and my head falls back
to the ground and I groan.

God.  I can't stop this.  I just don't have the strength.  From a purely
selfish standpoint, of course, I don't *want* to stop it, but the thing
is that I've never been with a woman who really seemed to enjoy doing
this.  But I didn't coax her into it, and from the happy humming sounds
that keep coming from her throat and vibrating against my cock, I don't
think she's regarding what she's doing as something onerous, either.

Scully's not like the others; I have to keep reminding myself of that. 
She really does seem to love me, for whatever unknown reason, and I have
to learn to take that at face value.  Someday, maybe I will.  Someday. 
Then her head begins to bob up and down, up and down, up and down, and
it feels so amazing ....

But I just can't help myself.  I've got too much of a backlog of guilt
and self-loathing to let this go unchallenged.  I have to tell her she
doesn't have to do this; I have to let her off the hook.  Never mind
that this is strictly voluntary on her part.  Never mind that to all
appearances this is being done out of love.  I still have to say this.

"Scully," I pant out, reaching down and running the fingers of one hand
through her hair.  She doesn't respond, though, and her head continues
to move, her lips and tongue sending jolts of lightning down my cock and
into my body with each motion.  "Scully!" I say again, somewhat more
forcefully, hating the desperate tone I hear in my voice.  "Scully ...
love ... you don't have to be doing this."

She actually takes her mouth off me at that, and looks up at me in
surprise -- but her hands continue their work, even so.  "You don't ...
" I say, feeling stupid and foolish even as I'm forming the words.  "I
... I don't want you to feel obligated -- "

Scully laughs, but there's so much love and caring in her eyes even I
can't manage to take it wrong.  She shakes her head with a smile, and as
she bends her head back to her task she murmurs, "Shut up, Mulder.  I'm
giving you a blow job."  Then she takes me into her mouth again and
resumes that slow, sweet motion --

-- and it occurs to me that two can play at this game.  So I reach out
and find her hips, drawing them close in to me, evoking a muffled yelp
of surprise from my partner as I bury my face between her legs.  I take
a moment to inhale her wonderful, arousing fragrance before I press my
mouth against her ....

Scully stiffens and moans as my tongue slips between her folds and finds
her center, and for an instant she just holds me in her mouth as I work
at returning the pleasure she's been giving me.  Finally her head starts
to move again, and without any effort at all we fall into a rhythm, our
motions complementing each other in perfect synchrony.

This is partnership, I realize, as sensation and emotion build upon each
other, sending us soaring towards the peak.  This is passion, and it has
transfigured us, just as Arthur Dales said it would.  This is sharing
and synergy and friendship and commitment and trust.

This is love.
 

Fini