TITLE: Chimes AUTHOR: Jori CATEGORY: SR KEYWORDS: MSR RATING: NC-17 for smut and language SUMMARY: A continuation of my "Blue Light Special" story, this one takes place over New Year's Eve and day, with Bill Scully dropping by for a guest appearance. DISCLAIMER: Oh, how I wish they really were mine. But, alas, they aren't. They belong to CC, 1013 and FOX. *************************************** *Chime.* Thrust. "Scully?" I ask, and her eyes open to look up at me. Pleasure is written across her face right down to the little furrow in her brow that usually marks worry or concern. *Chime.* Thrust. "Hmmm..." she nearly purrs, and my heart melts. *Chime.* Thrust. "I wanted to tell you. . ." *Chime.* Thrust. "What?" she asks. *Chime.* Thrust. "At the new year. . ." *Chime.* Thrust. ". . .I wanted you to know how I feel." *Chime.* Thrust. "I can feel you, Mulder," she says with a grin. *Chime.* Thrust. "No, how I feel about you," I say earnestly. *Chime.* Thrust. "How's that?" she asks while she's moving her hand. *Chime.* Thrust. "Good. That's good," I moan. *Chime.* Thrust. "No. I meant how do you feel Mulder?" *Chime.* Thrust. Midnight. "I love you more this year than I did the year before." "This year is only two seconds old, Mulder.," she whispers in my ear. "Doesn't matter." Outside her apartment, several partygoers have streamed into the cold to blow noisemakers and shout their New Year wishes out to the world. We are wrapped up around each other, a twist of arms and legs, a tangle of bodies and souls. We are celebrating our first New Year's Eve together in best way imaginable, listening to her clock chime the hours out. Her tree is still up, and the lights shimmering through her living room are all the party atmosphere we need. I'm hoping she has no plans to take down her decorations until at least Valentine's day. Too bad the tree is real. We certainly have no need for Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve this year. I remember when I was in Times Square for this occasion years ago. I was surrounded by thousands upon thousands of people and never felt more alone, even with a date on my arm. Now I only have Scully moving beneath me and I couldn't dream of asking for any more company than this, or different company. She is it, the only one I need. "Mulder, did I lose you?" she asks me, and I'm sure she noticed I stopped moving. "No, I'm sorry. I was just thinking," I tell her, as I start moving slowly in and out of her soft body again. "I hope you weren't thinking about doing laundry or changing the oil in your car. I'd hate to think the relationship is that stale already," she says, smiling up at me. "Oh, no. I was thinking about how happy you make me. And I don't mean just when we are doing this, though this is pretty nice. . ." I start to say. "Then shut up and just do this," she tells me, moving a finger up over my lips. I move around until we are both on our sides, her back facing the fire so she doesn't get chilled, though our body heat has raised the room temperature at least fifteen degrees in the past half hour. Her legs are wrapped around my body and I continue to thrust into her, and we are equals in more ways than just position. That is until she manages to get back on top again. I'm not going to complain, but this seems to be the way Scully likes it the best. How could I complain? The Christmas lights strobe multicolored pinpricks of light over our bodies. With technicolor flashing, breathless moans, the heady scent of sex, sweet sweat and electric jolts of pleasure torpedoing my senses, I nearly swoon. I now know the up thrusts of her breasts and the softly curved firmness of her belly as if I had always known them. If she wants to be in control like this for the rest of our lives, she can be. I will just lie back and enjoy the view. "Touch me," she whispers as she leans forwards, her breast grazing my chest. "Where?" I ask. "Everywhere." She leans back on me again, and I brush my thumbs over her already hardened nipples. Scully's eyes shut again, and a soft wisp of air escapes from her mouth as a tiny sign of her pleasure. "You like that?" I ask. "Mmmmm," she moans. "Just think, Scully. Last week at this time, we knew nothing of each other like this. Look how far we have come in a week." "Or how much," she says, her eyes opening again. "What?" I ask, not sure of what she means. "How much we've come," she answers, breathlessly. I'm amused at her burgeoning use of innuendo and word play over the last week. How she kept that under wraps all these years I'll never know. No wonder she never replied to my stupid comments. She has come up with some really great one-liners this week, making me look like an damn cub scout at the Improv. "How much would that be?" I ask. "I lost count somewhere around Tuesday night. Mulder, shut up," she orders me as she moves my one hand from her breast down to a much more stimulating place. "Scully?" I ask, as I slowly move my hand exactly the way I now know she likes. "Hmmmm?" "How are we ever going to make it through five days of work next week? Three and a half was damn near impossible this week," I tell her, remembering how all I wanted to do on our flight out to investigate a small migrant farm in a crappy Southwest Florida town was make love to her. Fuck her. Have sex with her. What ever I could get. Whatever she would give. Unfortunately, a storm blew into DC and we were stranded in Florida. An hour and a half from the beach and 75 degree temperatures. It was *so* unfortunate. That would be Tuesday night. The night she lost count. Also the night we made love on somebody's Hobie-Cat that we came across on the shore. The stars and the moon peeking through the clouds were even better than Christmas lights, providing the only illumination on the private beach we were actually trespassing on. The Florida sky flashed with an occasional bolt of lightening, making our semi-naked midnight rendezvous under the stars even more daring, especially considering we were making love next to a big metal pole reaching up towards the sky. Scully can do that to me, drive me into doing crazy things like that just to be with her. That was followed up by a dip in the Gulf of Mexico. It was chilly, but not chilly enough to prevent me from getting in Scully Fantasy #345. Sex off the shore of a sub-tropical island heaven. There were only 934 more fantasies to go when we caught a flight back Wednesday night. The only reminder we have of that night is a rare junonia shell she now has on her coffee table. It was brought in on the stormy early morning tide, to be found only by people who would happen to be on the beach at 3 a.m., mainly trespassers like us. "We'll get by this week and the next, Mulder. We always do," she says, moving my attention back to the task at hand. My hand begins moving with more intensity and Scully matches her movements to mine, sliding her body up and down on my cock. Her body begins quivering upon me, and her internal muscles begin to pull on me in their rhythmic quake. It is enough to bring me to edge and topple over into contentment. We both come together, and end up panting gently against each other's mouth, as our lips and tongues reach to join in the party of body parts. "Happy New Year, Mulder," she pulls away and whispers into my ear, matching her Christmas sentiments from nearly a week ago. "I meant what I said." "I know, Mulder. I love you, too." ################################################ "Scully, when do you take down the decorations?" I ask her, still utterly enthralled at how childlike she looks as she gazes up at her tree. She is sitting in front of me, my arms wrapped around her. "My father used to make us take the tree down the day after Christmas, so I usually leave it up until New Year's day," she says, her smile matching the smile of the angel on top, "but this year I think I will leave it up until Sunday night." Earlier in the week she told me this is the first time in years she went out and bought a full-sized tree, not just a little table top tree. Scully also bought all new bright chaser lights and several new boxes of ornaments. She said it was like a sign from heaven, an omen, of what was coming, as if she somehow knew that we would be spending hours underneath this tree. Everything she said was so unlike her, my jaw nearly dropped. Every night we've been in town this week we have spent hours wrapped up in blankets on her living room floor. The fire place has been ablaze nightly, and the tree lights get turned on the second we walk through the door. I saw my apartment last Sunday, and haven't been back since. I told her not to panic, and that I would go home this Sunday. I have two more nights of this and it isn't nearly enough. I pull Scully tighter to me, and brush little kisses across her cheek and down her neck. "Mulder, what *are* we going to do when Monday comes?" she asks me, a slight bit of hesitation rising in her voice for the first time in days. "That depends. Do you want this to be just a holiday fling, or do you want this to be forever? You tell me what you want, and I will live with your decision. Tell me to go and I will," I say, already feeling my insides knot up from the mere thought of hearing her say this. She is silent and still, and I cannot read her expression from my vantage point. "No, I don't want you to go. I just wish this was all simple," she says, and we both sigh at the same time. Hers is a sigh of desperation, mine of relief. "It isn't going to be simple. Nothing we've ever done has been simple. You tell me how you want to play it." "I don't think we can going running off to the beach on every case we take. We have to have some professional decorum," she says, snuggling into me. "Yeah. It would be tough to run off to the beach when we are investigating shit in Iowa," I tell her. "That's not what I mean. Work and *this* have to be separate. After Sunday, we can only do this on weekends. Not week nights, not while we are away working. It is the only way it will work," she says, her voice sounding as if she is still trying to convince herself of this. "For now. Not forever," I whisper in her ear. "For now," she whispers back, as we slowly sink down together onto the pile of quilts. ############################################ "Mulder! Be careful! You are getting soap in my eyes," Scully squeals as I attempt to rinse her hair after washing it. We are both soaking in her tub after spending the night on her living room floor. I am getting far too old to keep this behavior up, but can't seem to make myself stop. Not where Scully is concerned. "I'm sorry. Show me how to do this," I say, and she tips her head back slightly while I rinse more carefully. "That's better," she says, and I dab some soap off of her temples with her towel. "You are beautiful when you are wet," I tell her, as she rests back into me, and my one hand wanders up to play with one of her breasts. The other hand sinks lower, looking for other wet venues. "You have seen me wet before, Mulder." "But then you were never wet and completely naked and in full daylight. The beach doesn't count. It was dark. Nor does that thing in Antarctica, because I didn't look," I say to her, kissing the top of her head. "Oh! So that's what makes me beautiful. I'm naked and under full lighting," she says, digging into me with an elbow. "No. . . not at all. You are always beautiful. Even when you are covered head to toe and wearing a trench coat," I tell her, hoping she believes me, "But I much prefer you like this." "Hmmm," she says, and her legs part a little to give me better access to her. I touch her clit, making tight little insistent circles with my fingers. She moves her body up a little, raising her breasts out of the warm water. Her nipples harden in the cold air, and I continue to move from one to the other, my hands matching the other's pace. "Don't move, Scully. See if you can come without even making a ripple." I stop touching her breast, and move that hand down into the water to join the other one. I try hard not to make the water surface move, concentrating all my movements into my sunken wrists and fingers. She is completely still, with only her breathing changing. Her head lolls next to mine, and I can tell she is fighting the urge to move, the primitive instinct to grind her hips against my motions. "Mulder," she says in a sultry, breathy voice, "I have to move. I want to move." "Don't upset the water, Scully. Don't move." I can tell it is killing her, this game of mine. She doesn't move and my fingers continue to do their job. "I've got to move, Mulder. Mmmmmmm, this is too nice," she growls at me. "Nope. No moving." I say as I move up the intensity of my movements. The only way I knew she finally came was the several short breaths that escape her in quick pants. She never sent ripples out into our small pool of water. Not until after I move my arms from around her. Scully sinks back down again, leaning into me tighter. "What's this?" she asks, my erection hitting her in the back. "I don't know. Why don't you look and find out." "Why look when I can do this," she says, as she turns herself around in the water and deftly sinks herself onto my cock again. "Yes, this is much better than looking. Much better," I say, and she begins her own version of water ballet on my lap. I lay my head against the edge of the tub and let her go to work above me. Our eyes never lose contact with each other. "So, do you think you can come without making ripples, Mulder?" she asks me. "No. And even if I could, how would you be able to tell with all the splashing you're doing," I tell her as she leans forwards into me, her wet breasts against my chest. "Like this," she says, and she starts moving harder and faster. *Splosh.* Yes, just like that, I think, as some water goes over the edge and spreads across the bathroom floor. I want to hold off longer, but I just can't. Scully moves off of me right as I come, and I watch as I add some more liquid to her bathtub, the jerking of my body most certainly making ripples. "Do you think they had any idea they would be swimming out to sea this morning when they got up?" Scully asks, and it takes me a second to realize what she is talking about. "Well, there are worse fates. Like being sopped up with a wad of toilet paper off of a toilet seat and flushed into a septic tank next to a cheesy motel," I tell her as my body begins to still. "I don't even want to know. . ." she says, as she starts to move away from me a little. "What did you think I did all these years waiting for you?" I ask her, but she doesn't answer. "I'm going to get out now, Mulder. You can soak for awhile longer. I know you worked hard all night. . . and all morning," she says with a smile. "Okay. I'll just watch you towel off," I say as she stands up, her body shimmering with wetness. "You are relentless, aren't you," she says as she steps out of the tub. This bath isn't nearly as nice without her body pressed to mine, but I want to watch her from here. Scully pats her body dry, not bothering to wrap herself in a towel, completely comfortable naked in front of me. "If you got back in here, I'd show you how relentless I am," I tell her, hoping to entice her back into the water for more play. "We've got to get dressed sooner or later, Mulder. I have to run over to my mom's for a few hours later for Matthew's first birthday party, but you can stay here. Or you can come with. . ." she says, as she turns to look me in the eyes. "I don't know. I'll think about it," I say, not meeting her stare, knowing that her brother Bill is still in town. She doesn't say a word, but turns to look at herself in the mirror. I watch as she brushes her hair and then silently walks out of the room. If this is to work, I know I have to face the rest of her family sooner or later. I don't know why I'm scared. I guess the truth hurts, and some of what they feel about me is true. I did drag her into a lot of things she would have been better off without having to experience. Her chance to have babies, her chance at a normal picket fence life, her chance at perfect health. I've taken all of these from her and can only offer up what has transpired between us over the last several days. I step out of the tub and look around for a towel. There isn't one. Damn. I have to go dragging my wet ass out of the warm bathroom to get a towel from Scully. "Scully?" I say, poking my head out of the door. She doesn't answer. I step out of the bathroom, looking for her and leaving wet footprints behind me as I trek through her apartment. "Hey, Scully. I need a towel. Do we. . ." I start to say. And then I see the reason for her silence. Big brother Bill is standing in her living room, talking to his sister about birthday presents. Scully is now wrapped up in a conservative big, fluffy robe. I can do nothing but stand there. Running back into the bathroom would make me appear guilty of something, even though I'm naked and have every right to do so. Besides the image of me running naked is too much for even me to bear imagining. I wouldn't want it discussed at Scully family get togethers for eternity. His eyes bore into my soul, as he looks me up and down. Scully's head drops, shaking, and her hand goes up to her forehead. "What the hell is going on here?" He asks the brick wall that is Scully. Still looking for an answer he points an accusatory finger at me and nearly growls "What the hell are you doing here?" "We were just, uhhh, well...I need a towel," I apologize. Scully unwraps the towel from around her shoulders, and tosses it to me. I wrap it around my waist, and Bill still doesn't take his beady blue eyes off of me. "Dana, tell me that you have not been doing what I think you have been doing with this little prick," Bill pleads. Little prick? What the hell does that mean? Granted, I am wet, nearly naked and it's cold in here, which tends to shrink my dick up like a frightened turtle. I hope he was referring to my personality and not personal attributes. Scully's head is still bowed, praying for God only knows what. "I ought to kick your ass you worthless son of a bitch!" Bill punts at me and takes a step in my direction. "Bill, stop. Your appearance here is neither expected nor appreciated. I am an adult. I can make my own decisions about these matters," she says, and he stops dead, moving his gaze to her again. I would love to beat the crap out of this man right now, but there are so many reasons I won't do it. The biggest being I'm nearly naked and it is never good to get into a fist fight with anyone when you have no clothes on. There is just too much that can be jeopardized, besides one's honor and integrity. It is too hard to take a naked fighting man seriously. Instead I offer, "I'm going to go get dressed." "I'm sure this wasn't your decision, Dana. I'm sure *he* talked you into it," I hear Bill say as I turn to get dressed in Scully's bedroom. Through the half-closed bedroom door, Scully's harsh, clipped words and Bill's invasive hissing are muffled, but distinguishable. "Bill, I am not going to discuss this with you. It is not your business. Your unannounced visit is an infringement on me and your unsolicited advice about my life is an invasion of my privacy. He didn't have to talk me into anything. Do you really think I am so easily swayed that I can be *talked* into someone's bed?" she says, standing up to her brother. "He has always had his ways of conniving and deceiving you into trusting him before all others. That's what he does best. Lulls you into a false sense of security. You are drowning in the sea that is Fox Mulder. How can he save you from that?" he nearly shouts at his sister, and I hope Scully isn't drawn in by his argument. "I cannot believe you, Bill. Do you have so little faith in my ability to chose whom I love?" she says with an exasperated sigh. "Any idea that he loves you is his biggest lie, Dana. Hell, he can't even call you by your first name. What won't he do to make sure you stay? He's ruined your career, your health and your chances for a family. Indirectly he got Missy killed. How many times have you almost been killed because of Fox Mulder, Dana?" he asks. Dressed and ready for the next round, I return to the ring. Buoyed by Scully's veiled declaration of love, I pledge openly, "It's *not* a lie. I love your sister. I've never forced her to stay. Just like I would never force her into this," I say, my hands gesturing at nothing in particular. "I will never condone this, Dana. You don't know what you are getting in to with him," he says to her. Scully doesn't look like she has any clue on how to argue in favor of us being together. The cons have always outweighed the pros, but I never expected them to be tested so soon. "Listen," I say, as I read her expression of hopelessness, "I'm just going to go home. I'll see you Monday, Scully." "Run on home, you pansy," Bill antagonizes. "Bill, sit down and shut the fuck up," Scully rails, fixing Bill with an icy blue glare. A bit chagrined, Bill sits down on the couch anyway, settling in with a smug grin that says 'I'm staying and you are leaving.' Her back to me, she just stares at Bill. I take this as approval of my suggestion that I go home. The last thing I hear as I shut the door to her apartment is her brother telling her I have never loved her. ############################################## I am back to my couch. Back to the life I led last week. Back to my stupid blue lights. Back to being alone. My two remaining fish missed me. The four fish that I scooped off the top of the tank probably missed me more. I was only gone for four days. Lousy ingrates. I'm nearly asleep when I hear a knock on the door. I want to tell her to go away, run to her family, but she will just use her key. "Hold on a second," I shout, as I head for the door. I open it fully expecting to find Dana Scully, but I find Bill Scully instead. "Dana says we need to talk. She's waiting down in the car. She told me we have to spend five minutes talking before she comes up here and she says she's hoping she doesn't find any bodies," Bill tells me. "Come in," I say, as I step aside for him. He chooses not to sit down, but rather he stands in an at ease posture. I'm in my own home. I'm going to sit down no matter who's brother he is. "She really loves you," is all he says. "And I really love her. I have for years, Bill," I say honestly to him, "I would die for her. My fish would die for her. . . " "In the line of work we are both in that means nothing. You and I have chosen different professions where we might die for people we don't even know at any given moment," he says gruffly. "I know all that. I also know that she is the most important person in my life. More important than myself. Even more important than. . . my sister Samantha," I say, with the sudden realization of the impact of that statement. He raises his eyebrow at me in typical Scully family form. "I can't stop her from needing you, but I can warn you that nothing, and I mean nothing, had better ever happen to her. Do I make myself clear?" he asks me as if I'm some fresh young recruit in his Navy. "I have already told you how I feel. And Scully, I'm sure, has told you how she feels. As much as you reject the notion that we do love each other, it is the only truth I am sure of. You can either spend your life alienating your sister because of me, or you can accept this relationship. I'm not saying you and I will ever like each other, but for Scully's sake, we can at least pretend," I say to him, not wanting him to think he can back me into a corner. Just then, Scully knocks on the door before entering. "Is everything okay in here?" she asks, looking at her brother look at me. "Just fine. Would you like me to drive you home now, Dana?" Bill asks, looking at his watch to make sure his five minutes are up. "No. I want to stay here for awhile and talk to Mulder. I will be over at Mom's house shortly," she tells him as she leads him out. They exchange some whispered words at the door, but I cannot hear exactly what is said. All I know is she is staying with me. After a minute she is by my side on the couch, her hand reaching for mine. "I'm sorry I let you walk out of there like that, Mulder. I needed to talk to Bill alone, but that wasn't the way to do it. Will you please accept my apology?" she asks. "I'm sorry that whole incident happened. I know you didn't intend for your brother to find out by seeing my dripping wet naked body in your living room," I say, feeling a slight blush rise to my cheeks over the whole incident. I was too shocked to be embarrassed before, but the man got a full look at everything. Right down to my penis in all its rubbed raw by too much sex state. "Well, at least he got to see why I'm keeping you around," she jokes. "Under different circumstances, the whole thing would have been funny, Scully. But that man hates me with a passion." "He doesn't hate you. He just loves me that much," she says. "I love you more." "That is my problem. I'm just loved by too many people," she says with a sigh, as she flops backwards on my couch. "Frohike loves you, too." "And I love him back." "Scully, is there something you want to tell me. . ." I ask. "Nothing you need to know," she tells me, giving me a sideways glance. "You can be so evil sometimes," I tell her as I pull her close to me. "You think I'm evil now? Wait until I make you go to my mom's house this afternoon," she says, laughing. "No! Not the *mom's* house," I exclaim. "Yep. You get to tell my mom. Just don't do it the same way you told Bill," she says. "You're no fun," I say, wondering what Mrs. Scully's reaction would have been had she been the person in the living room this morning. I can't ever tell if that woman wants me to disappear from Scully's life or expects me to move right on in. "No. I'm evil. Don't you forget it," she says, as we settle into the couch where it all began. #################################### I am standing in the background as I watch the Scully family have an early first birthday party for their newest member. He is so incredibly different than the last time I saw him when he was merely days old. I had forgotten how much happens in the first year of life. Or how much can happen in one year of any of our lives. Tara Scully sets Matthew on Scully's lap and starts to take pictures. Scully wraps her arms around her nephew and whispers something in his ear. They both look in my direction and she waves his little hand for him. I wave back, and the two of them turn their attention towards the cake that will soon be a pile of crumbs. "I hear you taught Bill Jr. a lesson on dropping by unannounced," Mrs. Scully says quietly to me, as she watches her youngest grandson begin to cover himself in frosting. Tara picks him up off of Scully's lap so he doesn't ruin her clothing and puts him in a highchair. Scully looks a little sullen at the sudden departure of a child from her arms, and I turn away, not wanting to see this again. Feeling a blush of color burn its way up my cheeks, I stammer, "I'm sorry you found out like that. I was going to..." "I didn't find out like that, Fox. Charlie told me last Saturday before he left. And I talked to Dana on Sunday," she says, as she laughs at the look of shock on my face. "Dana is the second worst keeper of secrets in the Scully family, with Charlie being the worst. I didn't tell Bill, and I didn't know where he was going this morning, or I would have stopped him. At least I would have called so you could have been, um, dressed for the occasion," Mrs. Scully says with a soft smile on her face. "It is okay. His finding out was inevitable, though I can personally think of better ways to tell him," I say. "I just want Dana to be happy. Please, Fox, don't just stand in this corner. Go sit with her. These "baby" occasions are still tough on her," she says, giving me a gentle push in her daughter's direction. I pull up a chair and sit next to Scully, and whisper into her ear, "Why didn't you let me know you told your mother?" She looks at me and grins, "I just wanted to see how you planned to tell her we are now in a different kind of relationship. Besides, I figured Charlie had already blabbed. He always has before." We both sit and watch as Tara and Bill fuss over their child, trying to wipe all the blue frosting off of their son's fingers as he grabs more despite their efforts. "He is a beautiful little boy. I'm sorry, Scully. . . " I start to say, now suddenly feeling a loss I had never felt before. "Shush. I don't want to talk about it now," she says, looking away from me. "What would you like to talk about?" I ask her quietly. "I would like to discuss the odds involved in two people catching a plane to Florida, spending the weekend at the beach, and being back by Monday at nine o'clock in the morning." "Hmm. Those would be interesting odds to explore. But why be back by Monday? I know a little farm down there that I'm sure could use some further investigation into their fertilizer purchases. The last two agents that were just there last week, well, they had other things on their minds. . ." "Oh, yeah. It could use at least a weeks worth of investigation," she nods in agreement. "What happened to the rules, Scully? You know, the ones you made yourself," I ask her. "They don't apply whenever we are within one hundred miles of any large body of water," she says with a grin. "The Potomac River dumps about 35 billion gallons of water a day into the Chesapeake Bay, which is considered the largest estuary in North America. . ." I begin to offer. "Mulder, shut up and book us tickets to Florida." "What ever you say, Scully," I say, reaching for my cell phone and hoping that there is at least one flight out today to somewhere warm and within one hundred miles of a lot of water. ############################################### Additional notes: Yes, there are farms in Florida. Really. Not just citrus groves. We even have cows. No, the Gulf of Mexico is probably not warm enough to do *that* in it right now, though I've seen plenty of northern folk try. And sex under big metal poles during lightening storms is never advisable. But this is fiction and I'd never have my characters bite the dust in a blaze of glory while trespassing on the beach.