SCREAM by viXen * Please forward to atxc. * Archive: Yes to Gossamer; everyone else, please ask me first. * Summary: A thunderstorm, a confession and a bet. * Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance * Spoilers: Season Five spoilers, up to and including Redux II. * Classification: SR * Rating: mild R * Disclaimer: I don't own Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. * Author's Notes: My gratitude to a wonderful group of ladies who beta read Scream and gave me advice too tempting to ignore. All feedback will be give a good home and a fresh catnip toy at xfvixen@geocities.com. ************************* SCREAM by viXen Dana Scully stretched out on the hotel bed, her back against the headboard and the laptop perched on her thighs. The pitter-patter of raindrops on the lone window in the room, combined with light tapping on the keyboard created a strange but soothing symphony of sound as she tried to concentrate. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, determined to shake an image that had crept into her mind uninvited: her partner's tongue slowly, gently lapping at a melting ice-cream cone, the creamy liquid coating his full bottom lip, tiny rivers of sweet decadence drizzling down his chin, over his throat and pooling in the hollow of his clavicle. Her breath left her in a forced 'whoosh' as she shook her head, then replaced her glasses on her face. Mental note: Never watch your partner eat ice cream again. It provides too much fodder for your imagination. "Focus, Dana," she mumbled as she began concentrating on her field notes again. Her fingers cruised along, typing at lightning-fast speed until a message flashed across the screen telling her the battery was low. "Damnit." Mental note: Never believe your partner when he says he recharged the batteries for the laptop. She rose from the bed and went to the laptop's carrying case seated on the desk across the room. She dug in the side pocket and retrieved the adapter. Lightning flashed in through the blinds on the window, and a second later thunder crashed around her. The lamp flickered twice but held on to the light. Scully looked at the laptop and its adapter in her hands, then tossed them both in the carrying case. Frying the motherboard during an electrical storm would get them a tongue lashing from Computer Services they would never live down. Thunder bellowed again like a sonic boom. The storm was close, almost on top of them. She went to the window and pulled the blinds apart, peering out at the rain-drenched darkness. The night was thrumming with action. The fury of the storm blew leaves and debris around the hotel parking lot, creating whirlwinds that reminded her of mini-hurricanes. Skies had been clear earlier in the day but the storm moved in like a supersonic jet, bringing with it dark pregnant clouds and vicious winds. A knock at the door startled her. "Scully? It's pouring out here!" His voice sounded as if he had been caught in a wind tunnel. Scully unlatched the top lock and opened the door to a shivering, soggy Mulder. "What are you doing outside?" "That last power surge blew the TV in my room," he replied as he hurried in and shut the door behind him. "It flickered, then there was a loud pop and the screen went blank." "Maybe that's a sign that you watch too much television." He smiled at her over his shoulder as he plopped himself onto her bed. "Where's your remote?" "On the bedside table, I imagine," she replied as she walked back to the window, separating the slats and looking at the ferocity outside. "Weatherman said the storm promised to be the worst one this town has seen in ten years," Mulder said in a somber voice. "That's why the airport canceled all flights. Ahhh, there it is." Scully turned to see Mulder's hand close around the remote. One long tapered finger stood poised over the buttons, tapping down once to bring the television to life. The screen flicked on, and with the picture came a blood-curdling scream. "Jesus, Mulder," Scully yelled as she covered her ears. His finger frantically punched the volume button until the sound settled on a normal level. "Sorry about that. But hey, it's 'The Fly'. The original version, even." He turned his head to look at her and saw her disapproving look. "This is one of the best, Scully. They don't make them like this anymore." "Can't imagine why," she muttered under her breath. "This is a classic horror movie. You can always tell a classic by the screaming." One eyebrow jetted toward her hairline. "You judge the quality of a horror movie by the screaming?" "Of course," he said, as if it was the most obvious truth they had ever encountered. "You have got to be kidding, Mulder." "Why?" he asked as he turned on his side to face her. "Horror movies are supposed to have lots of screaming. They're also supposed to make the audience scream." "They don't make me scream," she said nonchalantly. "Why?" "Because I don't scream." His eyebrows arched. "Never, Scully? You have *never* screamed in your entire life?" "Not spontaneously, no." "What do you mean, not spontaneously?" Scully sighed. She had just done a beautiful job of verbally hanging herself. She could tell from the impish grin on his face that the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse, but she refused to back down. "I mean, I'm not easily frightened. If my fear does become overwhelming, my reaction does not include screaming. The only time I've ever screamed was when it was expected of me." He let out a hiccup of laughter as he clicked off the television. "Socially-acceptable screaming? *This* I have to hear." "When I was younger, there were times when the girl was supposed to scream," she replied coolly. "At scary movies, at a haunted house, on roller coasters. It wasn't a natural response for me, but I did it because it was expected." Mulder stared at her, his eyes bright. "You faked your screams solely to feed the male ego?" The unspoken innuendo in his words hung between them like a heavy storm cloud, its lightning ready to strike at any moment. Scully swore she could smell the electricity in the air, but she convinced herself it was the smell of the storm seeping into the poorly insulated hotel room. "I guess you could put it that way," she said cautiously. She made the mistake of raising her gaze to meet his. She shouldn't have been surprised by the mischievous grin on his lips or the wicked playfulness in his hazel eyes, but her breath caught in her throat. She turned toward the window, unable to ignore her body's reaction to his words and expression. Mulder Innuendoes delivered in the car, or at a crime scene, was one thing. Mulder Innuendoes delivered while he was stretched out on her bed, staring at her with those bedroom eyes, was completely different. And completely dangerous. "Doesn't sound like you, Scully. Doing something so opposite to your character just to make a guy feel macho." His voice reminded her of butter pecan ice cream: a thick, candy-sweet temptation. "I was young and stupid," she said with a shaky smile as she faced him again. "Weren't we all? But I just can't imagine you conforming to a set of archaic societal rules, especially ones that are so much against your nature." "Normally I don't," she rebutted, slipping into her argument mode. "As I said before, I was young, too young to know any different. Now I know better." He sat up on the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge. His eyes twinkled with one part curiosity, one part amusement and one part seductiveness: a dangerous combination for Fox Mulder. "So, you've never screamed out of fear. I can believe that. You're a strong woman. But you've never screamed out of frustration?" He paused as his grin widened. "Or passion?" "I don't understand," she replied as calmly as she could. His words were like an icepick chipping away at her resolve. "You know what I mean, Scully. When someone evokes such emotion in you that you just have to let it out. It happens to all of us. It's a normal reaction for all animals to scream or cry out in release." She swallowed. "Yes, it is. However, I've never been in a situation where I've felt the need to vocalize my release in that manner." "Is that so?" She nodded as her mind tried to produce the perfect comeback, but she never got the chance to form a complete thought. A thunder clap exploded overhead, a sound so intense it rattled the window where she was standing. Within a second of the thunder, the light from the lamp surged then blinked off. The wind howled like a coyote baying at the moon, and rain beat against the window like tiny fists. The cacophony of sound outside eclipsed the movement inside. Scully wasn't aware of Mulder's approach until she felt his hands settle on her shoulders. She jumped at his touch but he held on, moving his hands to her upper arms. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, though no part of him touched her but his hands. Lightning created a muffled flash between the slats of the blinds, and the thick night air flowed into the room, permeating her skin and intoxicating her senses. His touch, his words, the fury of the storm... it all seemed so... alive. "You should move away from the window," he said against her ear. "The wind might blow something through the glass." "I want to watch," she whispered. His grip tightened on her arms. "It's dangerous." "I like dangerous," she responded with a smile. He pulled her closer and she complied, letting her back lean against his chest. He felt hard and soft at the same time, and so alive. It had been so long since she had felt truly alive. "So, if something slammed into that window right now," he said in a breathy voice, "you wouldn't scream, right?" "Right," she answered without hesitation. "I told you, Mulder. I don't scream." She fought a shudder as his breath feathered her ear. "I bet I could make you scream." A tiny whimper escaped her lips. His arms slipped under hers and snaked around her waist. She tried to turn in his arms but he wouldn't allow it. "Don't." His lips brushed against the skin of her neck, barely a kiss but enough contact to send her stomach fluttering. "Mulder, no..." "Why?" "You know why," she said softly, trying not to notice that his kisses had become stronger, bolder. "No, I don't. Tell me." "*They* would..." "No," he said harshly, tightening his arms around her. "If you don't want this because you don't feel the same way, then tell me now. But don't stop me because you're worried about some set of rules forced upon us by lies and deceit. Those rules were broken when *they* gave you cancer. I almost lost you, Scully. It won't happen again. I refuse to play by any rules but our own from now on." Thunder crashed overhead, startling her. She couldn't find the words to express her thoughts. She wanted him, that she didn't doubt. She felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders when she allowed herself to admit her powerful attraction to Mulder. To know his attraction to her was just as strong sent a wave of passion through her body so overwhelming she thought her knees would buckle. As his tongue lightly explored her ear, the image of the ice-cream cone returned to her mind. Streams of creamy liquid inching down his chest, carefully negotiating the maze of wiry chest hair. Traveling down, down until it collected in the safety of his navel, where it sat taunting her, begging her to retrieve it with her tongue. "Tell me what you want, Scully." His hands moved to her midriff, his fingers splaying across her stomach and ribs. What *did* she want? No more rules. No more cat and mouse games. Everything on their terms, hers and Mulder's. Mulder. Yes, she wanted Mulder. In every way. Could he do it? Scully smiled. Maybe, maybe not. She wasn't lying when she said no man had ever made her scream. But the thought of what Mulder would try in order to accomplish it sent arousal shooting through her like lightning. She shifted against his body, pressing herself closer to his heat. "Give it your best shot, Mulder," she said into the darkened room. "Make me scream." THE END