Dance In The Darkness

Dana Katherine Scully. Federal agent, qualified forensic pathologist, respected colleague. Roman Catholic, loving daughter, trustworthy friend, organized housekeeper. Hey, don't forget snappy dresser and maker of a mean martini. Was d-r-u-n-k, drunk. Stone wasted. Shitfaced. She giggled. And horny as heck.

She staggered into her apartment with little grace and less balance. Her keys slipped out of her infirm grasp and jangled on the floor. It had been a long, eventful evening. Janice Hartwell, an old friend from college, had come back into town . Now, as in their youth, she was able to get Dana to do things she would normally never even consider doing. They'd started at 6:30 with martinis in Janice's hotel room, and ended up in a cute little club called the Tranz Action.

Even Janice couldn't get Scully to join in the karaoke singing. But she'd immediately begun flirting with cute guys and demanded that Dana dance, dance, dance. Despite Scully's reserve, the combination of Janice's beautiful long blond hair, slim height, and Scully's petite delicate charms made them the center of attention. It had been so long since Scully'd been held by an attractive man besides her gorgeous but untouchable partner that she couldn't help responding to the feel and smell of all that masculinity. There'd been free drinks until eleven o'clock when Dana decided it was time to leave. There'd been several tempting offers of a ride home from various dance partners for each of them. After consideration, Janice had accepted one. Scully'd also let the guy Janice had chosen drop her off at home.

Unlike Janice, though, she'd drawn the line as she always had at a one-night stand with a stranger. The only time she'd broken her rule was with Ed Jerse in Philadelphia and what had happened then was the exception that proved the rule. Nobody Scully knew would have been surprised at her reticence. What they would have been surprised about was how hard it could be for her. Most people never knew that Special Agent Dana Scully had a very strong sex drive. Even her partner didn't suspect. Staggering into the kitchen in a search for some strong coffee, she wondered petulantly why he had never bothered to find out.

She wished he'd call her and drive her crazy with the sound of his voice. If he had ever had any idea of the number of times she had brought herself to orgasm listening to him on the phone she thought he might have passed out in shock. Just remembering how he spoke made her moan with frustration. There was only one other man who'd ever made her feel like that, and she hated him. His voice was even sexier, so deep and husky... She knew it was not a good idea to think about that criminal, so she forced the memory out of her mind. It was bad enough lusting after her partner. At least she had the excuse of proximity. But sexual feelings about a man who had committed crimes of the magnitude of his were unbearable.

It took her longer to make the coffee than it normally did, and by the time she had a pot brewing, she knew she didn't really want it. Resignedly she poured the newly brewed stuff into the sink and headed to bed. Still staggering a little, she changed out of her all-purpose little black dress and into some silky black pajamas. Feeling like a rebel, she left her clothes piled in a heap at the foot of her bed, something she NEVER did. She didn't even bother to climb under the blankets, the summer night was warm and humid. Instead she lay back with a drunken sigh and surrendered to the urge to let her mind wander freely.

The first time she had met him was during the period before her abduction when she and Mulder had been separated. Well, met was probably the wrong word. Seen was closer, and heard maybe closer still. He had merely glanced at her. And when they'd been introduced a few months later, he hadn't behaved as if he knew who she was. She was teaching at Quantico that first time, and he'd been standing in the hallway outside of the empty classroom she was using to prepare for a lecture. She probably wouldn't have noticed him, with her head down reading some notes, if she hadn't become aware slowly of his voice.

His voice.... She shivered as she remembered how deep and husky it had been. He must have been talking to a woman, because the tone was intimate and the words were promises of physical joys to come if the unknown recipient chose to accept his suit. She had been stunned by a rush of intense heat that swelled her sex and flushed up into her chest and throat. Never before had she reacted so intensely to the sound of a man's sensual promises, even though he was making them to someone else. A wish had come to her that the still unseen man would say those things to her some time... She was embarrassed to remember rationalizing an excuse to leave the room and walk past the couple in the hallway. As she went by, heels clicking on the floor, he'd looked up from his long-legged partner for an instant.

His eyes... so green. They had seemed to sear right through her and leave her marked. She met them helplessly, caught a swift image of a face impossibly masculine and beautiful at the same time. Then she'd been sweeping by the couple and hoping the flush hadn't reached her face. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding for several minutes, and she'd gone to the restroom to try to regain her composure.

Later, when he'd been the one chosen to replace her as Mulder's partner, he'd only been a name. A name meaningless to her until he'd said it, in clipped words only a hollow echo of that voice's depth and range. The goofy smile, greasy hair, ugly suit, none of these belonged to the fantasy she'd had since that one day months before at Quantico. Still, something in that voice had penetrated her defenses and stimulated nerve endings she hadn't ever recognized before. It had unnerved her, especially because of the resentment she felt toward him for taking her place with Mulder. She had felt unable to look at him, to speak with him. During the Cole case, she focussed on Mulder and tried to ignore the thrill through her body whenever his partner answered the phone.

Subsequent events had changed things drastically. It was no longer a matter of avoiding him because of nervous attraction. Where she'd been irritable with him from resentment and attraction, she now hated him. Now he was an enemy, possibly partly responsible for her abduction, connected to her sister's killer, he might even be the man who had killed Mulder's father. She became ashamed of the way she had felt, the fantasies she had nurtured. She'd thought he was out of her system completely. But when they'd met before Mulder and he had gone to Russia, the same feelings had returned to torture her painfully. Somehow she found herself becoming fearful of her own sexuality. If she were so powerfully attracted to men who either didn't want her or were actually criminals, there must be something wrong with her. Maybe that fear bore some relationship to what had happened in Philadelphia. She had felt so stifled, so repressed. Perhaps it wasn't authority she was fleeing, but her own inhibitions.

Dana found herself laughing. I'm becoming a morbid, introspective drunk, she decided, the worst kind. And she was still really, really turned on. Remembering the old feelings had brought them back again, stronger than ever in spite of all the time that had passed. It might have been the alcohol, but she felt somehow it would be OK, this once, to remember those old fantasies. Let that man, his eyes, his voice belong to a safer version of him. Let that man want her the way she wanted him. Let him be really an agent, let his voice be kind and desirous. It wasn't like she was fantasizing about the real man. No one would ever know, anyway.

Slowly her hands began to stroke her body as she heard once again that sensuous deep voice describing the caresses he wanted to give... and this time it was her he was promising them to, and her hands were his hands. Waves of desire washed over her and Scully moaned aloud at the thought of him in bed with her, reaching between her legs to stroke the fevered flesh and give her the release she craved. She wasn't aware she'd said his name when her climax came and she shuddered and melted. But the man in the apartment above her, observing her on extremely expensive audio and video equipment, certainly was.

Had she just called out his name? His name? Not Mulder's, not some other guy's, his. Alex. She had said Alex. Was Dana Scully trying to kill him? As if it weren't enough to have to watch her touching herself, wanton and drunk and vulnerable, hear her throaty moans and not be able to touch her. The sight of her full red lips pouting and parting on a sigh, her beautiful face contorted with passion. And her body, splayed openly in those half-on, half-off silk pajamas... Alex took his hand off his crotch where a painful erection throbbed in tribute to her and rewound the tape. There it was, her almost-there sounds, and right at the moment her body had lifted up and quivered, there it was again.

"Aleeex..."

Maybe it was some other guy named Alex. Why would she want him? He knew she hated him, she never even looked at him on the rare occasions they'd met in the last few years. Even when he'd been Mulder's partner she had been abrupt, even rude to him. Ignoring him, refusing to meet his eyes. That day in the autopsy bay when they'd been officially introduced, she wouldn't touch him, hardly spoke to him.

He knew she didn't realize they'd met before. He'd seen her, teaching classes, many times. The first time he saw her, he hadn't fallen in love. Love at first sight was bullshit, in his opinion. But the sight of her had sent a thrill up and down his spine. She was so tiny and perfect. The full breasts curving into a slim waist and round hips. The beautiful, thick hair gleaming red and copper. And her lovely, sweet face. Her lips seemed designed for wrapping around a part of his anatomy that was already reacting to her. Her eyes, though at a distance he couldn't make out the color, were large and expressive. After the first time, he'd watched her from a distance when he'd had the opportunity. He knew he couldn't afford to pursue her, even if she wasn't out of the league of the man he was supposed to be. And then he'd really looked into her eyes, in that corridor where he'd thought Alyssa and he were alone.

High heels clicking on the hard floor, and he'd looked up from his attempted seduction to see- her. All he could think in that moment was that they were blue. Her eyes were blue. Alyssa was gone, the hallway was gone, and he was flying out into a blue sky with the heat of the sun burning his thin skin. Then the moment was passed, she was clicking away down the hall while he gaped after her like a fool. Alyssa had actually slapped him. Alex had hardly noticed, prompting further retaliation when she let him know in a quavering voice that Doctor Scully was an icy bitch who was probably as frigid as the corpses she dissected. At that point he had muttered some stupid excuse and gotten as far away from the girl as he could before he hit her back.

When they'd finally been introduced Alex realized he'd been a real jerk. The girl was right in one way, of course. Even if it weren't for his extracurricular assignments with the Consortium , Dana Scully would have still been cold as ice toward him for being Mulder's partner. He knew now, after extensive surveillance, that she certainly wasn't frigid. Not at all. But for him, the ice would never melt. He'd accepted that a long time before. He shook his head, rewinding the tape again. He must have been imagining it.

It was still the same. His name, drawn out on a gasping sigh. He tried arguing with himself. It was no use. The consequences could be catastrophic but she'd said it, Dana Scully had moaned his name in ecstasy and he was going to go to her. She was drunk and disoriented, maybe she wouldn't shoot him. Maybe, just maybe, she'd welcome him into her lonely bed. He knew it was crazy, unlikely at best. But he was going to go, all the same.

Dana lay, not quite asleep, aching with loneliness. The orgasm that had rippled through her relaxed her, but seemed only to highlight the emptiness between her legs, in her arms. She didn't want fantasies and her own fingers, she wanted a man. She wanted him. The light from the hallway shone dimly into her room, and she thought she should get up to go turn it off. The alcohol still in her system made moving seem like far too much effort, though. And then there was a shadow in the doorway, a figure moving toward her. Before fear could take hold, she heard him, heard the voice she'd been longing for in the dark places of her mind.

"I had to see you..."

Before her rational mind could object, she heard herself cry out to him.

"Oh Alex, please, I'm so lonely. I need you." And then he was on the bed with her, touching her at last.

"I heard you baby, I'm here." His throaty tone throbbed through her and she moaned his name again. "Oh god, baby, I want you so much, so much." He was kissing her throat, her lips, his body pressing hers into the mattress. He moaned with pleasure and the vibrations from his rough tones melted her still further. She was trembling and soaking wet, rubbing her body wantonly against him. She could barely speak, just murmuring his name and sighing. She buried her nose in the taut sweaty skin of his neck as he gently bit and licked just above her collar bone. He smelled so good, of spice and rich dark musk. She wanted to breathe him in through her pores. Her eyes were just slits through which she saw the shadow of his jaw, the glossy skin of his eyelid, his soft dark hair.

It seemed as if she had been wanting him like this forever. At last there was nothing to fight, nothing to fear. No boundaries now, she was in a place of dream. Her inhibitions had no meaning in the drunken haze of her erotic pleasure. In a vague way she believed she was truly dreaming, somehow in a waking vision. No reason not to let her thighs part softly and feel his hard body settle between them, his erection pressing so firmly through the silk pajamas against her hungry sex. The sounds he made then were so thick with arousal she felt them humming in her throat more than heard them. She heard herself pleading with him, please, please, to remove her clothes, his clothes, let her feel him.

He obliged her so swiftly and gracefully it was as if their clothes had just vanished and she was slipping sweaty and alive against his long hard limbs. Her legs parted, she felt his thick fingers slide between the swollen folds and flick her clit, caress the lips softly and oh! yes inside her. Thrusting in and out in a dancing rhythm in concert with her shallow breath. Testing her, finding her wet and yielding, out and in, then much thicker, much harder and his cock was inside her, so big and satisfying that she thought she would weep. She heard him gasp, then he growled roughly and began to thrust so hard and deep that she came endlessly under him, writhing and moaning her consent.

"Alex, so long, wanted you-" her words were cut off by his firm mouth capturing her lips and thrusting his tongue into her in rhythm with their lovemaking. Soon, too soon, but any time would be too soon, he was crying out gutturally and swelling impossibly inside her. With a last gasp, her name she thought, she felt him wetly spurting inside her and she came again at the sensation.

As she slowly drifted back near the surface of consciousness, she felt his heavy, fragrant weight on her. Her skin was incredibly sensitive and the sweaty movement of his skin against hers was almost unbearably sensuous. Dreamy arousal began anew and he was hard once more within her. This time it was slow and awesomely tender, moving her inexorably around climax like the ponderous glide of planets around the sun. When she came it was as if she radiated heat and light. She drowsed briefly until his lips and tongue, exploring, pulled her once more toward him. They moved together again and again, until time seemed to have stopped and there was only the touch, the sound, the scent of him in her world. Finally, exhausted, she slipped into a deep sleep, never realizing fully that she'd been awake and this all had been real.

Until the next morning, when she woke up alone in a bed that smelled of sex. A bed that smelled of him. The scent pleased her for a few minutes, until she woke up fully and saw the dark hairs on her pillow, the stains on the sheets. Her heart lurched and tried to leap into her throat as the full implications infiltrated her defenses like enemy troops.