Julia
Chapter Twenty-one

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
3:15 p.m.


It was soft at first, a tender approach unlike
his previous forays into the unknown.  His lips
were slightly chapped, as if he'd worried them
with his teeth and tongue while he'd waited for
her to awaken.  The small cut on the lower one
added to the friction and her own worry for his
safety and sanity; in a move designed to soothe
and communicate just how necessary, how *right*
this was, she touched her tongue to it.

Like a spark to tinder, he ignited, his mouth
opening above hers to plunder deep within,
stealing oxygen in one sure, swift blow.  She
could do nothing but return the kiss as best she
could, letting her head fall back under the
pressure of his hands as she gripped his belt to
counter the sudden cowardice of her knees.

Yes, yes, she begged with the frenzy of her
kiss.  Faster - we have to do this now.  There's
no time to feel love... no time to feel.

Just when she felt she would have to stop the
kiss to breathe, he released her, gulping for
air as she did.  "Let me," he muttered again,
sliding his hands down her back in search of the
clasp of her bra.

The scrap of lace fell away in an instant and at
his urging the straps feathered down her arms. 
She felt his gaze on her but didn't look up,
busy with the buckle of his belt.  As the bra
settled over her upper arms like loose bindings,
she huffed.  Someone was going to have to let
go.  Still, she kept working at his belt, her
trembling fingers refusing to cooperate.

A soft chuckle answered.  "We seem to be at an
impasse."  His fingers wrapped around the lace,
caressing its softness into her skin. 

No, don't make me stop.  Keep going, Mulder.

"Hey," he breathed, bringing one hand to her
chin.  Her concentration was broken at the
slight pressure of his fingers and she looked
up.

Afternoon stubble shadowed his face, but his
eyes were bright in the lamplight, smiling but
nervous.  They drifted over her like the softest
of touches; not lingering in any one spot, but
giving equal attention to all.  Over her face,
her neck, pausing at the almost naked allure of
her chest before rising once again to cover her
face with warmth.

"I don't care who's listening.  Take it easy."

He was going so slowly with her.  Her mind
screamed that they must hurry; time was not a
luxury given to them in this circumstance.  But
her heart... it wanted to savor every moment,
burn it all onto her brain so she'd have
something to hold on to if ever they were
separated again. *When* they were separated....

His words hit her with sledgehammer force.  They
were listening.  Waiting for this to happen.  It
*had* to happen.

The impatience of desire fled in a heartbeat. 
In its place came the impatience of just...
getting it over with.  She felt like a million
eyes were watching - a million ears floating
around in the black ether, waiting to hear one
slip-up, one 'Scully.'

That couldn't happen.  The omnipresent ghosts
covertly huddled in some room filled with tape
recorders would lunge at any mistake.  Panic
made her breath quicken and her fingers clumsy.

Breaking the lock he had on her gaze, she tried
again to push them along, finally getting his
belt undone.

"Julia, slow down."

She ignored him; he was ready and she could feel
it beneath her hands, his erection straining at
the material.  With swift, firm accuracy, she
slid a hand within, cupping his straining flesh. 

"Shit," he hissed, his hands tightening on her
arms as his eyes slammed shut.

It was hot to the touch and, despite his
protests, eager with life of its own, his hips
shoving out to trap her hand between them.  "God
damn it, Scu - Julia," he muttered, hanging his
head, "slow the fuck down."

Scully.  She knew it.  In making him abandon his
noble ideals, she'd also loosed his tongue. 
Dimly, she remembered him telling her he'd
called the other one 'Scully' - but it was
different this time.  She *was* Scully... and to
invite even a moment of suspicion could be
disastrous.

A furious need for reaching the goal overwhelmed
her.  She stroked him, her mouth lowering to nip
at the muscles of his chest.  He rocked against
her and it was so very easy to maneuver him the
few feet necessary to reach the bed, releasing
his cock to guide him where she wanted him.

It must be done, she kept telling herself. 
Mulder was practically boneless, so easy to move
and position.  His breathing became louder and
heavier, pleasing to her ears as she stood him
beside the bed.  Pausing only to divest him of
the rest of his clothes, she wasted no time in
stripping him, though she knew the brief lack of
contact meant he had a chance to think once
again.

Sure enough, the protest returned as she gently
shoved him to sit.  "Will you stop a minute, for
Christ's sake?"

His plea was angry, but weak.  In no time, his
shoes and socks were gone, as were her jeans and
panties.  The hands on his thighs clenched and
his inhale was shaky, but he said again,
"Julia..."

Exactly, she thought, climbing onto his lap and
latching her mouth to his.  That's the point of
this exercise, Mulder.  Call me who I am; fuck
*what* I am.  Come inside me and make them think
I'm only a whore.

She could have smiled when she felt his moan
vibrate between them, felt the big, rough hands
cup her buttocks to pull her close.  His cock
was rigid, caught between the fleshy softness of
her lower stomach and his.  She began to move,
devouring his lips as if starving for the kiss.  

Quickly, she shoved against his shoulders,
breaking the kiss temporarily.  He fell back to
the mattress, chest heaving, the golden cross
the only artifice against naked, raw perfection.

Dilated, passionate eyes looked up to hers. 
Though storm-tossed, they were no longer
questioning, no longer protesting.  Just waiting
and watching.  He swallowed hard.  "Jesus."

The moment was at hand, she realized.  He was
primed and on the brink, unable to push her away
even if he wanted to.  She rose up to her knees
and grabbed his cock; in one move, she began to
lower herself, pushing him within inch by inch.

Mulder arched as if singed, eyes narrowing. 
"Fuck..."  The word pushed past thin lips as he
grimaced.

A sharp stab shot through her at the intrusion
and she bowed her back, refusing to stop.  Her
arousal had dissipated long ago, brought to an
abrupt halt by the realization that it was Julia
making love to Mulder, not Scully.  Lack of
foreplay hadn't helped and the prying ears made
her feel like the star of a second-rate porn
flick.  But it was too late to rectify the
situation; she knew the pain would ease in a
moment or two.

Mulder seemed to sense her discomfort, though
she kept her face down.  It wasn't difficult to
do - the friction of his penis through the dry
channel probably told him everything he needed
to know.

"God damn it!" he bit out, his hands gripping
her hips as if to push her off.  Pleasure
dissolved into anguish on his face as he sat up.

But she would have none of it, finally feeling
him sink to the hilt.  Her hands wrapped around
his shoulders, her legs around his waist.  With
a sniffle, she burrowed her face into his neck,
stilling for a moment.  Nothing he could do
about it now, she thought.  And she'd latched
onto him like a leech; he had no choice but to
finish.

"Not like this... not like this," he muttered
into her ear, his hands moving to her waist. 
"Let me go."  Rough, yet greedy fingers dug into
her skin, at once attempting to push her away
and hold fast.  Indecision colored his demand,
making it more of an entreaty; he wanted this,
that much was certain.

She could make him want it more;  her limbs held
him closer as she refused with a shake of her
head into the groove where his neck met his
collarbone.  The last thing he wanted to do was
hurt her in any way.  Just as the last thing she
wanted was to see him hurt because of her.  But
this was important and pain meant nothing.

Spreading with a tentative plea for empathy, her
hands traced the length of his back as she eased
her legs down.  She knelt astride him now,
acknowledging his concern.  But her mouth took
up the gauntlet, sliding over his racing pulse
with gentle, seductive kisses.

A deep breath expanded to close what little
distance there was between them, tickling her
breasts.  "You okay?"

She nodded, thankful the gamble had worked; he
could very easily have lifted her away.  I'm
fine, she told him with a kiss to his cheek.

Disbelief still tensed his body and he sighed,
motionless under her.  That wouldn't do, she
thought.  He must move.  The burning had
subsided considerably, just as she'd known it
would.

She circled her hips and was rewarded with a
sharp hiss. "No, not yet."

But it came to her ears in a garbled mess of
words as realization crept back into her brain. 
Listening... listening... come on, finish it...

The physical pain was now a distant ache, but a
deeper hurt rose up to take its place.  The
mournful loss of what could have been something
special.  Making love with Mulder... giving love
to Mulder.  There could only be one first time,
and it was forever tainted with calculated
desperation.  Survival, together - that was the
ultimate goal.  Not the simple need to love and
be loved.

Silent tears gathered as she rose up, then down
again.  Again and again, feeling his cock slip
and abrade on the way out only to stretch and
fill on its return.  A welcome sensation, now
that her body had adjusted.

"Shit... I told you not to..."  The rest was
lost in a hollow, shaky, "Ahhh..."

Long-forgotten but familiar wetness began to
gather deep within in reaction to his obvious
pleasure.  It wasn't enough to bring her
anywhere close to satisfaction, but it was a
pleasant stirring that warmed her and spurred
her on.

Faster she moved, her buttocks slapping against
his thighs.  His hands, once soothing and quiet,
fell away from her to plant themselves on the
bed behind him.  She saw his chin drop to look
at the amazing sight she'd already discovered...
the slide of his cock in and out of her.  As he
watched, fascinated, his face tightening with
approaching completion, she brought her hands to
his face.

Ragged gasps broke from his lips and his hips
pushed up against hers, faster and harder.  With
time, she felt as though she might join him in
the luxury of orgasm, but it would not be soon. 
And there was no way they were slowing now. 
Tilting his chin, she gave him a misty smile,
brushing his cheeks free of sweat.

The bruise on his face was dark and twin green
flames were almost lost between slitted eyelids. 
He knew what she was demanding; she knew what he
withheld in the name of love.

Come for me, she told him, letting him slip
almost completely out of her before sinking down
again in counterpoint to his rhythm.  She did it
again, clenching her inner muscles around his
cock.

"I hate what you've done to me... what you've
made me do," he whispered angrily.  "Hate it, do
you understand?"

Hate it all you want, Mulder... hate *me* all
you want... she tipped his head back and covered
his mouth with her own.  A salty, coppery tang
slipped over her tongue as she drank of his
every breath with greedy manipulation.  Finish
it, she demanded of him.  Finish it now.

Mulder suddenly stiffened, his mouth breaking
from hers to let out a low moan.  His hands
moved from the bed to hold her in place, a
white-knuckled grip on the sharp points of her
hip bones.  Pulsing warmth filled her for what
seemed like forever as his hips lifted and
ground against hers in small jerks.  Teeth
clenched, neck tight, he gushed into her.  She
rode it out, the palms of her hands gripping his
slick shoulders as she watched.  He was a
beautiful sight... a tortured, slender god
embracing the ecstasy she'd given him like fire
and ice.  Needing the joy, but loathing the
angel of worship.

She wanted to cry, but didn't.  It wasn't her
place.  Wasn't right of her.

Slowly he fell away, eyes closed, face relaxing.

Her nails raked his chest in a final gesture of
apology, wanting to cling to him and never let
go.  With horror, she noticed the smear of blood
on his lips.  She licked her own, tasting what
she'd done, her heart heavy.

Silence filled the room, surrounding and
smothering his fading gasps as he collapsed to
the bed.

It was done.  Whether or not it was a success
remained to be seen, but she put that from her
mind.

Her muscles almost didn't cooperate as she let
her feet drop to the floor and stood.  Mulder
didn't move, nor did he open his eyes.  She felt
sticky between her legs as she moved to kill the
lamp.

Done.  It was done.  The only thought in a
blank, weary mind.

Numbness settled over her and she walked to the
other side of the bed, pulling the covers down. 
She laid on the cool sheets just as the first
trickle of semen painted her thighs.  One last
detail, she reasoned, knowing the telltale stain
on the sheets would be proof.

Hot, treacherous drops escaped from her eyes to
mirror the moisture below as she covered to her
chin, hugging the edge of the bed.

He hated her now.  What she'd done was textbook
seduction... bordering on rape.  She'd often
wondered if it was possible, the reversal of
traditional, criminal gender roles.  She now
knew it to be true.

The shift of the bed next to her made her hold
her breath.  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut
and waited for him to leave.

But he didn't.  Cool air bathed her back, then
warmth enveloped her.  Strong, hairy warmth that
cocooned around her from behind.  A trembling
hand brushed the hair from her face and his
whisper was firm.

"Next time, we do it *my* way.  Got it?"  A
small kiss graced her cheek and she felt his
head settle beside hers on the pillow.

Relief poured through her.  She knew he wasn't
going to let this go without discussion, but at
least his anger had taken a temporary hike.  And
amazingly, he was already planning on doing it
again.

Sniffling loudly, she turned in his arms and
melted into him, pressing kisses to his throat. 
He gathered her close, murmuring soft words of
comfort.

It was okay.  Everything would be okay. 
Happiness mixed with residual shame made her
bury her nose into his chest as he stroked her
hair.

"Just to let you know - before you talk yourself
out of it, Julia - there *will* be a next time. 
You can bet on it."

Smiling, she raised damp cheeks, trying to make
out his features in the rapidly darkening room. 
She brushed a thumb across his bloody lip,
regretting her overzealous kiss.  Mulder cupped
her face in his hands, dropping a kiss on her
brow before pulling away, his eyes glittering.

"And it will be slow," he whispered fiercely,
punctuating the vow with a kiss to one corner of
her mouth.  "And easy." Another dotted the
opposite corner.  "And you'll come, Julia...
under my hands, under my mouth... over me,
beneath me... surrounding me."  His warm breath
hovered above her lips.  "That's a promise."

He sealed the promise with a kiss and Julia
responded... for once, skepticism thrown to the
four winds.  


**********


7:45 p.m.


Staring at herself in the mirror, she thought
back upon all she'd been through.  The torment
of Mulder's disappearance, the invasion... the
surgeries and the subsequent degradation of her
mind and soul to enable herself to infiltrate
the new administration.

It was all worth it, every painful second. 
Especially as she glanced back through the open
bathroom door at the dozing man in her bed.  He
had always been worth anything life threw at
her.  She wasn't sure she could have done all
she did for the love of anyone else.

Even what she was about to do - to herself and
to him.  After what she'd done earlier, she
couldn't bring herself to bring more hurt upon
him.  But the time had come and if she tried to
explain it to him beforehand, he would surely
balk.  Or at the very least, insist upon being
in here with her, watching over her.

And she couldn't stand to have him do that.  It
was horrible enough that he had to see what
she'd done to herself already.  And to make
matters believable, she'd have to ask him to do
something he would never, ever do to her.  But
to warrant a trip to the Infirmary, she must be
convincingly injured.

A black eye should do the trick.  Placed there
by a very displeased master.

Enough, she told herself.  Just do it.

With shaky hands, she opened the vanity drawer
and removed a pair of tweezers, surprised again
that they'd allowed her to keep them.  Eliza's
insistence that they were a necessary part of
any woman's makeup bag helped considerably,
though she'd raised one carefully plucked
eyebrow at the slim length of the hard plastic
pincers.

Julia had heaved a silent sigh of relief when
the Guard inspecting her meager bag had just
shrugged his shoulders and said, "Whatever."

Because they weren't tweezers, they were
forceps, fashioned from plastic to seem
innocuous.  But only trained medical personnel
would know the difference.  She supposed they
were blunt enough, with square tips, to not be
of any lethal significance.  Not a weapon, they
didn't rouse suspicion.  And they would more
than suffice for the purpose she had in mind.

Just before he'd slipped into sleep, she'd
informed Mulder of the laundry man's visit.  In
return, he'd said that all she now needed to do
was give Krycek the signal.  Once again, she
carefully deflected him away from the subject,
promising she'd tell him when she was ready. 
Sated by sex and comfortable in her embrace,
he'd only nodded as exhaustion took hold.

But she hadn't slept.  As she listened to his
breathing and stroked his back, she'd kept one
eye on the clock.  Ticking away the minutes
until night came, it glowed red as if counting
down to bloodshed.  She'd tried not to worry,
soothing her nerves by touching her lover.

The evening shadows filled her bedroom and she
closed the bathroom door on his sleeping bliss,
knowing she needed light to do the job and very
unwilling to take the chance on waking him.

The harsh light of the bulbs that surrounded the
mirror would do nicely.  Leaning closer, she
brought the tweezers up to her face and took one
deep breath, then two.

It hurt like hell, and if she'd had her voice,
she would have certainly cried out from the
pierce of the sensitive skin in her nasal
passage.  But she persevered, clamping onto the
foreign object at last.

Her eyes slammed shut at the excruciating pain,
and she almost pulled away, not sure if she
could continue.  But the faces of her friends
and family swam before her closed lids, urging
her to complete her task.  She had to do it, if
not for them, then for the millions that still
had a chance at survival.  For Mulder.

With a firm yank, she silently screamed as the
mass was removed.  It slid from her nose in a
torrent of blood, grasped between the tongs of
the tweezers and shining with red fury.

The pain was still a problem, though lessening
with every second.  She smiled wanly at the
thing caught in the tweezers, then looked up
into the mirror.

It was her only mistake.

Blood poured from her nose, dripping down her
chin and neck in a torrent that began to stain
the collar of his shirt, the one she'd picked up
off the floor.  Not again, she thought, feeling
lightheaded.

At least he won't have to hit me now, was her
last thought before she fainted dead away.



End Chapter Twenty-One