Tequila Dreams II: Through the Looking Glass

by normaljean

Subject: [Scully_Reyes] New :Tequila Dreams II Scully POV NC-17

Author: normaljean2@yahoo.com
Title: Tequila Dreams: Through the Looking Glass Rating: NC-17
Classification: Scully slash, Scully/Reyes romance Spoilers: minor ones for current season. Summary: This is the Scully POV for Tequila Dreams Special Thanks: To my beta Cara, thanks love, and to Stacy for letting me bounce a few ideas of her.
Disclaimer: Yeah right... like Carter would give us the Satisfaction.
Author's note: It is my belief that Scully isn't wrapped quite as tightly as she used to be. That's my story and I am sticking to it.




I am standing alone in the center of the lobby of the Hoover Building. I cannot remember how I got here, or even why I am here. I try to piece together what happened, but my mind refuses to give up the information. I sigh in frustration, and the noise of it echoes unnaturally through the open room. I fold my arms across my chest in anger, and I am horrified to find myself topless. I begin a frantic search for something to cover myself with. At least I am alone. I bend down to look under the counter of one of the guard posts, hoping to find at least a jacket. Nothing. Suddenly, the room is bursting with noise. I straighten to find a guard standing right behind me, and people everywhere. Fuck... How the hell did this happen? I can feel a heated flush burn through me, as a tidal wave of embarrassment crashes into me.

"Excuse me Agent Scully, but you can't be back here," the guard says. His tone is chipper, and he seems oblivious to my state of undress. A clown wearing a red and white striped cone suit and big floppy Red shoes, approaches me.

"This way ma'am," he says through a painted frown, though the face behind the makeup is actually wearing a lurid grin. He takes one of my arms, causing me to be exposed on one side. I am mortified, especially when a young, dark haired girl tugs at my skirt.

"Where's your shirt lady," she asks. Her wide eyes seem familiar, and I feel like I know her. The clown tugs at my arm, pulling me away from the girl. I turn away from her, to protest to the clown.

"Hey, let go of me," I say furiously. He turns to face me, and the makeup has changed from a sad clown, into that of a scary clown. Suddenly there is hand on my other arm, a different hand altogether.

"I'll handle this." I turn to see the face of Agent Reyes smiling warmly at me. Thank God, a friendly face. She slips her jacket off and places it around my shoulders, covering me. She wraps her arms around my waist from behind, and gives me a protective squeeze. "I got ya now," she whispers against my ear. She begins moving me through the crowd of people. A midget juggling dead pigeons manages to cop a feel off of my calf as he passes by. Reyes gives him a swift kick, knocking him into a Flukeman building a tower of milk bottles. Milk bottles come crashing down, shattering into a million pieces all over the marble tiled floor. The Fluke grabs the midget and brings him to its twisted mouth. I turn my head to forgo witnessing the carnage that is about to take place. Reyes continues to push me forward down the hallway towards the elevators. She presses the down button, and the doors part to reveal an empty car.

She guides me in with a hand at my back. Once the doors shut, she is on me. Now I am naked, and her hands are all over me. She is kissing me fiercely, her tongue assaulting me savagely. I am too overwhelmed to do anything about it, so I just let it happen. The elevator stops suddenly, and a group of old men in suits gathers on board. Reyes releases me before they could see anything though, or they are acting like they didn't see anything. She has me backed against the wall of elevator, covering me with her body. I could have dealt with this had she not decided to slip a slender finger into my heated folds. A moan escapes me, and she pulls her fingers away long enough to slip them into to her mouth. She sucks my essences from them, then returns to exploring my depths gently. I moan again, the slick softness of her fingers pushing me closer to the edge.

"Shhh... Don't let them hear you," she whispers softly. Her fingers intensify their search for the button that will release my desire.

I bite into the shoulder pad of her jacket to keep from making noise.

It occurs to me that I have one just like this at the same time she Pushes me into the abyss of orgasm. I look up in time to catch Skinner turning to face us.

"Nice work Agents," he says with a wink. The elevator stops again, and all of the old men and Skinner get off. We are alone again, and I halfway expect her to attack me again. She doesn't. She offers me her jacket, and a shy smile.

"We do work well together," she says coyly. What the fuck. What the hell is going on? I am beginning to feel panic rising in my throat. I have been drugged, and I can't tell what is real and what isn't. The elevator comes to its final halt, and the doors open to revel my class room at Quantico. All of my students are here, and I am still naked. Reyes has disappeared. The phone on the table at the front of the classroom begins to ring. Shit. The bad thing is, I know I have to answer it. I know whoever is on the other end will be able to tell me what the hell is going on here. I steel myself for the task at hand. Perhaps they won't notice, I conclude irrationally. I rush the stairs, covering myself as much as possible, and staying low. It is not enough, and less than half way down, roars of laughter rock the room. I go anyway, figuring it can't possibly get any worse. I grab the phone and put it to my ear. It continues to ring. I pick up the base and shake it lightly, and click the receiver button a few times. It is still ringing. I cannot make it stop. I throw the phone on the floor, breaking it in half. Still, it manages to ring. I grab an axe that I had not noticed before...

I awaken suddenly, the sound of insistent ringing bringing me to full consciousness. I check my state of dress in a panic. I am wearing my PJs, though my top has risen up to my breast exposing them. I pull it back down and answer the phone to make it shut up.

"Scully," I say around the frog that crawled into my mouth during the night. I try to ignore the wetness I feel between my legs.

"Dana Scully," a young feminine voice asks in return.

"Yeah, who is this?" My brain is starting to function, though under protest.

"My name is Jenny, I am a bartender at The Hideaway club. We, um, we have a friend of yours here, and she needs a ride home". She? I don't know many women well enough to call friend, except maybe Reyes, but this is not her style.

"Who might that be," I ask.

"Monica Reyes?" She sounds suddenly unsure of herself.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Jenny gives me directions to the club and I scrawl them onto a piece of paper that is lying on my nightstand. I don't even think, I just get out of bed and haphazardly throw something on. I put on my shoes and coat at the same time, as I hop towards the front door. My mom raises her head wearily from the couch, the noise I am making stirring her from her light sleep.

"What's wrong honey," Her tone is full of concern.

"I'll be back as soon as I can Mom, I have a friend that needs my help." I dig through the pockets of my coat looking for my keys.

"I wish they would just leave you alone," she says with a huff.

"It's not that kind of help Mom, I think maybe she just needs someone to talk to." Reyes is one of the most together people I know, for her to be pushed to the point of drinking herself into oblivion just doesn't make sense.

"Oh, well, at least it's a normal crisis," she says around a yawn. God love her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can Mom," I say as I slip out the door.

One hour later...

I have discovered something about myself on this long drive to the middle of nowhere. Inside my own head, and questioning my sexual identity is not a good place to be when I am alone. The dream I was awakened from to make this little trek has played with my mind relentlessly for the past hour. The lingering feeling of being naked has caused me to irrationally check my state of dress a few times. I try to rationalize the undercurrent of feelings that are flowing through me. Everyone dreams about showing up to work naked, it is normal. I would even go so far to say that dreams about having an intimate encounter with a member of the same sex is normal. I hope. Or is my subconscious trying to tell me something that I am afraid to except consciously. That is a scary thought. Is it just Monica? I know there is something there when I catch her looking at me. Admiration to the point of adoration? That's an even scarier thought, especially since I enjoy it. I have to admit, she has said things to me that under different circumstances, would have made me consider other possibilities. Is she even aware of how she makes me feel? She has seen me at my most vulnerable, weak, and intimate, yet she comments on how strong I am. But I look at her, and it occurs to me that she is the strong one. The fact that she didn't completely lose her shit during the birth of William is a testament to that. I had gone into blind panic mode, but her quiet assurances and soft tones had been more effective than any sedative I could have taken. She had taken a futile stand, but I still admire the fact that she was willing to die with us, or for us. In light of this new understanding, I feel very bad about not being more open with her, not being a better friend. I will make up for it, starting now. I will do whatever she needs me to do tonight. I pass a Citco on the right, and I realize my turn is coming up. I slow the car down, and flip on the right signal, despite the fact that I am the only person on the road. I ease onto the poorly paved street, and flip the trip odometer. I slow to a stop and check my scrawled directions. Something about 'two miles then left' seems to be the dominant feature. I recall the young woman's voice saying this as well. I start the car again, and flip the high beams. Two miles click away quickly. I see the sign, and moment later I am pulling into the dirt and gravel driveway. I pass a row of trailer homes, and for a moment I begin to wonder if I have taken a wrong turn. The road continues on though, and I find myself passing through a small patch of woods. Well, I am starting to see how the place got its name. A pink neon sign spreads out over a long wooden shack. It attempts to spell 'Hideaway', but only manages a sickly 'Hic Way'. By the looks of the place, I cannot help but wonder if this is more of a comment on the clientele. It looks like a trashy biker bar out of some bad action movie. What the hell was she thinking? I weave my way through pick-up trucks and SUVs as I make my way closer to the building. Half way through the 'parking lot', the beat of loud music begins to pound against my windshield. There is not enough definition to tell what the song is, only a lurid banging that seems to make the shack shimmy like a belly dancer. This is going to be fun. I park close to the door which, upon closer inspection, seems oddly out of place considering the condition of the rest of the building. I get out of the car, and music fills the air like thunder. It sends a shiver through my spine, and I can't help but feel like my life is getting ready to take a sudden turn from the norm. I mentally brace myself for whatever is ahead and take the short walk to the door. As I get closer, the sinking suspicion that I have made an error in judgment hits the pit of my stomach. The elaborate nature of the door is apparent now. It is solid wood with the images of nude women carved into various positions. This better not be a strip bar... I will be all kinds of pissed, if this is a strip bar. I become aware of my gun tucked securely into the small of my back. The cold steel against my skin comforts me, and I open the door. I am greeted by a large, burly woman with a deep scowl etched into her features. Prince declares someone to be a 'sexy mother fucker', and I yelp out despite myself. I wouldn't take this chick on a good day. I suddenly forget why I am here.

"This is a privet club, ma'am," she says, her voice surprisingly feminine. I almost turn to leave, but then I remember I am on an errand of mercy.

"Jenny called me. I am here to pick up Monica Reyes," I reply, my own voice sounding rather shaky. She must sense that she has scared the hell out of me, and her features soften.

"Oh yeah, Dana Scully. Right? I am Lou." She smiles warmly at me and offers me her hand, and I shake it firmly. It occurs to me that she is quite attractive, when not frightening the customers.

"That's me." I attempt to return her smile. She takes me by the arm and pulls me into the club. When the door shuts behind us, we are plunged into darkness, and the music becomes impossibly loud.

"Watch yourself, it takes a little time to get used it," she says against my ear. I wonder if she means the sensory overload, or something else altogether. My eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, and I can make out that I am in a narrow hallway. There is low lighting emanating at the end, and Lou begins to push me towards it. We emerge into a large room, filled with cigarette smoke and a blend of perfumes that is dizzying. It makes me a little light headed. The nature of the bar becomes apparent when I bump into two women kissing passionately in front of the ladies room door. I watch them for a moment, shocked fascination getting the better of me. The paring appears typical, as I tear my eyes away and look around the room. Well... at least it isn't a strip bar. But my mind reels at the reality of the implications towards Agent Reyes. I am overcome with a feeling of embarrassment for her. I am certain this is not how she intended me to find out, if ever. I make a promise to myself that I will not make this hard on her. I will accept her. My only wish is that I do not find her engaged in an intimate moment with someone else. I ignore the underlying reason why. What I can't ignore is the fact that the scene before me is actually doing something for me. The distinct symptoms of arousal creep though my body like a shadow at dusk. I feel empowered by the looks of appreciation I receive from some of the women. The funny thing is, when men look at me like this, it just pisses me off. Could I be coming face to face with my biggest denial yet? I shrug off the possibility. I am not ready to go there... yet. The last time I questioned myself in this manner, I really fucked up and slept with Mulder. God only knows what this will do to me tonight. Lou steers me to the bar, and leans in close again. "Get whatever you want from Jenny, I'll get Monica for you," she says into my ear again. I realize this is the only way to be heard, but it still sends a shiver through me to have someone this close. When Jenny approaches I wave her away, I don't think drinking will do anything good for me at this point. Lou has disappeared into the crowd, and I decide to wander a few feet away from the bar. That's when I spot her, sitting in a booth a few tables away. It is like looking in a mirror, sort of. There are subtle differences, hairstyle being the most prevalent. She spots me staring at her, and a lurid grin flashes across her lips. She slips out from the booth, and starts to make her way towards me. As she gets closer another difference becomes apparent. Her green eyes bore into the my blue ones, and I feel a surreal conversation getting ready to take place. I am torn between curiosity, and the urge to run. The conflict has glued me to the spot.

"Well, well... Two gorgeous redheads in the same room. What are the chances of that?" Her honey coated southern accent drips with an underlying contempt. She circles me like a vulture, waiting for what's left of my moral fiber to die away. The sinking suspicion that this woman means something to Reyes hits me like a brick.

"Couldn't tell ya, but I am just here to pick up a friend," I reply.

"Monica Reyes?" Her green eyes shift color slightly, becoming greener at the prospect.

"Yeah," I say, though I am not sure why I am giving this woman any information at all. Her smile becomes vicious.

"You wouldn't be Dana by any chance would you?" she asks.

"You've heard of me?" The question leaves my mouth despite myself.

"Monica's mentioned your name a few times," She replies. Her underlying sarcasm belies the context of my name being mentioned. I am not sure how this makes me feel, other than confused as hell.

"I didn't catch your name." I forego commenting on her previous statement.

"I didn't throw it, but its Katherine," she replies. I don't dwell on the Freudian significance of this new fact. Katherine offers me a limp hand shake as though her proper southern rearing kicked in and she suddenly realized how rude she was being.

"I'm sorry, I have never heard her mention you." I don't know why I say this. It is the honest to god truth, but it belies a confidence that Reyes and I don't share. It has the desired effect though.

"I don't imagine she has." Lou reappears with Reyes in tow before this can become ugly. She assesses the situation between us, and then she sizes me up. I get the impression that she is wondering if she could take me. Reyes looks up and directly at me. A strange look crosses her features, and she glances over at my double. Her face takes on another look altogether. One that my medical training, and the nature of my job, makes it all too familiar. She is going to faint, and Lou's grip on her arm will not keep her erect. I move to her side quickly, and Lou catches on to what is happening. Together, we keep her off the floor, and manage to get her out of the bar without further incident.

"Look here, don't you pay any attention to anything Kath says, she is trouble," Lou says, once we are outside. "Monica's a good girl, just a little confused right now." She gives me a look that suggests that meeting me has cleared up why Reyes is confused. "I am not judging her," I assure her. How could I? Reyes comes to briefly.

"Are you taking me home?" she asks, her words slightly askew. She reeks of lime, and something else I can't quite put my finger on.

"Yeah," I reply. She slips away from Lou, and throws her arms around my neck.

"Thanks," she whispers sloppily against my neck. She attempts to take responsibility for some of her movement and stands up on her own. Before I can do anything about it, she kisses me. It is brief but passionate, and I respond to it without thinking. She pushes me away, and stares me intently in the eyes for a moment. I notice a large purple bruise on the side of her face for the first time.

"What happened to your face," I ask, the kiss momentarily forgotten. She avoids the question by passing out again. Lou is quicker this time, and catches her before she can hit the ground.

"I had to do something, it was either sock her, or let her kill a drag queen." The mental image this produces causes me to snicker despite myself. Lou offers me a sheepish grin in return. I think this is a story I want to drag out of Reyes, no pun intended. At this point, there are several things we need to talk about. Lou decides picking her up and carrying her would be easier, and we make it to my car. We get her settled into the passenger seat, and Lou and I make our goodbyes. Once Lou has disappeared back into the bar, I walk to the back of my car and pop the trunk. I find a first aid kit, and grab the ice pack. My charge will need it before this is over with. When I get into the car, she comes to again.

"Are you mad at me?" Her sad, drunken tone pulls at my heart, and I turn to face her.

"Hardly," I reply, and reach out to tuck a wild lock of hair behind her ear. She closes her eyes, and smiles softly at my touch. I watch her features as the innocence of sleep takes hold of her breathing. She looks fifteen like this, young and virtuous. Perhaps before discovering the nature of her hidden desires. The urge to touch her again takes hold of me. I resist, though. I am still not so sure that discovering my hidden desires is what's best at the moment. I shake off the feelings that threaten to fuck with my head all the way home, and start the car.




Forty-five minutes later...

I glance in the rearview mirror for the hundredth time since leaving the bar. The headlights that have remained a good two miles behind me for most of the trip are still there. Normally, this would concern me, but I know the identity of my tail, and she is hardly worth the space in my head. I flip the radio off, cutting off The Rolling Stones as they describe my love life a little too accurately. I don't need to be reminded that satisfaction is always out of reach.

"Dana." My name falls from her lips gently. The sudden sound of it sends a shiver down my spine, and causes me to nearly run off the road. I recover control of the car, but pull over anyway so that my heart can return to my chest. I glance over at the woman sitting next to me. She is still asleep. The expression on her face, and the soft moans that escape her suggests she is having a hell of a dream though. Two and two hit me full force. She is dreaming about me. This is not helping my state of panic. I have to get a grip. I tense every muscle in my body as I count to ten then slowly release the tension. I exhale slowly, as I stuff everything down to the pit of my stomach. I will regret the indigestion this will cause later, but I have to get off the road before I can deal with what I am feeling. I pull back out onto the road, Thank God it is mostly deserted. I do not stop long enough to lose my tail though. I decide I need to pull Reyes back into the real world, for both our sakes.

"Agent Reyes?" I regret being so formal, but I need to put some distance between us. She struggles against the alcohol haze that has clouded her mind for a moment. She throws a glance in my direction, and I smile despite myself. "Nice nap?" I don't know why I ask this, but it causes the most brilliant blush to rush her cheeks. Busted.

"I guess. I think I have sobered up a bit though." She touches her bruised cheek, and I can tell she doesn't remember how it happened. I wonder what else she doesn't remember.

"Well... that's a good thing. Do you remember me picking you up at the bar?" I hand her the ice pack I grabbed earlier.

"To be honest... not really. How did you find me?" I release a breath I did not realize I was holding. If she doesn't remember kissing me, then it did not happen.

"The bartender called me. Apparently you dropped your cell phone during a scuffle so she grabbed it, found my number, called me, and asked me to come get you. So, I did." I avoid the urge to interrogate her, for the moment.

"I am sorry. They should not have called you." This pisses me off, even though I know it shouldn't.

"And who should they have called," I ask, my tone harsh even to my own ears. Why the hell didn't she just tell me? I shake off the anger that is welling up from deep inside.

"Sherri knows to call John if I can't make it home," she replies, as she grabs the top of her head. I do not envy the headache she must be experiencing at the moment. I suppose I should give her a break under the circumstances.

"Hmmm... The woman that called me said her name was Jenny. Maybe she is new." I make an effort to lighten my tone, and attitude.

"Yeah... she is," she replies. This prompts another question to fall from my lips.

"So... You go there a lot?"

"Just enough actually." I can tell this is going to be like pulling teeth. A frustrated sigh escapes me, and I decide it would be best to drop the subject until we reach her place. We ride the last few minutes in silence. The images of her kissing me in my dream, and the real kiss she laid on me earlier dominate my thought process in the quiet. I can feel her glancing over at me from time to time, building on my frustration. I grip the steering wheel tightly as I turn onto her street. The knowledge that this is going to come to a head very soon makes me feel too big in my own skin. I park in the space directly in front of her building, and turn the car off. I look over at her as I pull the keys from the ignition.

"You should let me take a look at your face, make sure nothing is broken." It is lame, but if she bucks me I will threaten to take her to the hospital. I give her a stern look to emphasize the point. She doesn't bother to protest my offer.

"Come on up then," she says. She bolts from the car like she has been shot out of a cannon. She doesn't too far ahead before I am dead on her heels. She is not getting away that easily. Her sprint, and way too much to drink causes her to fumble with the keys to her apartment. I take them from her, open the door without a hitch, then hand them back to her. She inspects them for a moment as if wondering how I made them work. I push the door open and take her arm firmly. Her apartment is spacious and on the verge of order. I weave her trough the maze of boxes that clutter the large open space. Nice place, needs a woman's touch... I spot a door at the other end of the room and head for it. With any luck at all it will be a bathroom. When I open the door, I am pleased to find that my hunch was right. I push her in, close the lid on the toilet, and sit her down. I flip the light switch, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the sudden brightness. I have little sympathy at this point. I open her medicine cabinet in search of anything that might be of use during my examination of her cheek. There is only toothpaste and deodorant in there. It occurs to me that she hasn't spent enough time injured to have developed a stockpile of pharmaceuticals yet. That will change if she stays on this path for long.

"You're real lucky. I think the woman that did this to you could have kicked your ass thoroughly had she not claimed to be a friend of yours." I touch her injury lightly as I say this. She turns introspective for a moment, no doubt going through the short list of people who could kick her ass. No doubt Lou tops the list. Being this close to her, and touching her, makes me bold. "When were you going to tell me?" I leave it open-ended, curious to she what she will confess to first.

"Tell you what exactly?" Well... I thought my powers of avoidance where well honed. But if the lady wants specifics, I will damn well give her some. I take some of my frustration out on her face.

"Well, you can start with why you were in a place like that?" It sounds causal enough, but the need to air this out is deadly serious.

"Come on Agent Scully. You're a smart lady," she replies. Yes I am, but I want to hear her say it. I need to hear her say it. She attempts to stand up, but I don't let her.

"We aren't done here." I lighten my touch on her cheek, and stroke it softly. I loose myself in the way her softness feels beneath my skin. I find myself pushing my fingers into her dark hair, and it runs though my hand like strands of raw silk. I look down at her face, and she licks her lips against the sensation I must be producing. I glance down further, and notice her nipples are puckered against the satin blouse she is wearing. I am arousing her. It's about time the shoe was on the other foot here. I stop though. My next question may require some distance. "Are you...?" It freezes in my throat. What do I do if the answer is yes?

"Am I what Agent Scully?" Her bluntness rattles me a little. She is not as closed off as I had thought. "Say what's on your mind, and leave, or suffer the consequences," she mutters softly.

"Into women? What consequences?" What the hell is she talking about.

"Yes, and I didn't mean to sat that last part out loud." I smile at this, despite my need to be serious.

"Well, if your frustration and my consequences have anything to do with one another you need to let me know." I don't know why I say this.

"Is that an invitation, or an opening to let me down gently," she asks. Damn, she must have gotten lucky on that one avoidance, because she is being far too direct for my taste at this point. I like a little denial with my sexual tension thank you very much. I step away from her, and feel a heated flush rise to my face. Jesus, what am I doing? Something I shouldn't that's for damn sure. What kind of ideas have I put into her head about my motives, probably true ones. I can't deal with this, I can't deal with the fact that I am hitting on another woman, openly. Whether or not she is aware of this doesn't matter. I know what my motives are. I wrap my arms around myself in order to gain some control of my actions. She is aware of my discomfort. "Sorry, that was terribly inappropriate," she says thoughtfully. I can tell she is trying to keep this from becoming an issue that would drive me away from her company. This isn't her fault.

"No... No, that deserves an answer, particularly under the circumstances. To be honest... I don't know what it is." The confession leaves my feeling vulnerable, and I wrap my arms tighter around me for comfort. She reaches out to me, then thinks better of it.

"Hey it's... cool, and for the record, you do not frustrate me. Far from it. All I want is to be your friend, Dana, on your terms. As for consequences, I am drunk, so if you stay much longer I may be subject to flirt with you." She offers me a smile, and two open palms. I conclude that she does not remember putting her tongue down my throat earlier if she thinks mild flirting is going to bother me at this point. It's not her would be actions that bother me though, it's mine. I reach out and touch her anyway. I wonder when she is going to realize that I am the one flirting.

"I am going to get some ice for that," I say, then it occurs to me that she may not have any. "Do you have ice?"

"Yeah, tons," she says, a look of mild confusion on her face. I make a hasty retreat before I can do anything more foolish. I cautiously navigate the large living room, passing a floor to ceiling window on the way to the kitchen. I look out of it without thinking, but what I see gives me great pause. Reyes' lover is parked directly behind my car. This is not good. I thought I had lost her once we got onto city streets. She managed to find my car again, but her subtleness leaves a lot to be desired in the spy game. At least she has proven in my mind that she is not a real threat. I go into the kitchen and make an ice pack for Reyes, my body moving on autopilot as I listen to Reyes stumble through the living room. A few curses and the squeaking protest of leather tells me she has made it safely to a resting place. I move to the doorway that separates the rooms.

"Is that you?" I don't know why I ask.

"No, it's the boogie man," she replies dryly. At least her sense of humor is in tact.

"We shall see," I reply. I make my way to where she is sitting, and plop down close to her. I place the ice on her cheek, and take her hand in mine. I move it to the pack slowly, maintaining the contact as long as possible. I rest my hand on top on hers. "Hold that there." My words come out breathy, and I hope she doesn't recognize it as a sign of arousal.

"Thanks for everything, really, and I am sorry if I seemed ungrateful for you coming to get me." I get the distinct impression that she is dismissing me. Perhaps I have given her too much credit in the dealing department. Or maybe, she is trying to get rid of me. I wonder if she knows that her lover is down stairs waiting. I don't like it. She moves away from me. I really don't like this.

"Are you dismissing me?" I stand up. If it is space she wants, I'll give it to her. I move back to window, and watch the woman sitting in the car below.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to stay... I'm fine really." I don't buy it.

"Oh, but I do. Who is Katherine?" I decide to forego the coy thing, it's not getting me anywhere. I choose not to look at her reaction to the question.

"Just a girl." Who just so happens to look just like me.

"Have you ever been... you know... intimate with her?" I seek the comfort of my own arms again. I know the answer, but I still need to hear her say it. Because if she has, there can only be one good reason why.

"Yeah," she answers, and she rubs her forehead lightly. Wouldn't be the first time I was a buzz-kill.

"Does she know where you live?" I try not to make it sound judgmental, but it still does.

"I am pretty sure she doesn't, unless she followed me home." Well at least I am satisfied that Reyes doesn't know that she is here. I guess it is up to me to tell her. Will she make me go home if I do? She is standing next to me before I can dwell on the thought for too long. She follows my gaze to the street below and spots the car.

"She followed you home."

"Fuck." She whispers the word softly, and I can suddenly picture her saying it in a whole other context. I turn my head, and meet her chocolate eyes for the first time since entering her apartment.

"Has it ever occurred to you that this woman isn't what she seems to be?" I ask. I have to secure my position.

"What are you getting at," she asks. It is a reasonable question. What am I getting at? I take a step back from her, I can't organize a lie with her standing so close.

"I don't think it is a coincidence that she looks like me." She looks at me like I have gone stark raving mad. Maybe I have. "Have you read any of the case files on the beings that can make themselves look like anyone they choose?" She has the 'get the net' look. I'll go peacefully...

"What you are talking about is nothing like this situation. Kath only resembles you, she is not an exact copy." If she is going to poke holes in my theories with facts, then I don't stand a chance.

"I don't like it. I can't help but think that somehow They have figured out your weakness, and They are using this woman to get to you... I am not leaving here until she does." It is my last ditch stand. I pull my gun out and click the safety off, mostly for show.

"No problem," she replies, placing her hands in the air at my blatant brandishing of my weapon. Well this bodes well for my sanity... I reholster my gun, and turn her around facing the couch. I move her away from Kath's line of sight, should she choose to look up.

"I don't think you should be in the window," I say as I sit her down on the couch. I return to the window.

"I really think you are overreacting," she says softly, but I can tell I have her thinking about her lover's true intentions.

"Even if I am, I still don't like the idea of what might happen if I leave." I wrap up in my arms again, and blush. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say under the circumstances.

"Like what?" The jig is up, as they say. My real reasons for keeping them apart are much less honorable than I was attempting to portray. I watch the woman below with an intensity that would pop her head if I had that ability.

"I don't want you to have sex with her." She chuckles without humor at my admission.

"I'm sorry, but that is hardly your decision to make," she replies. She is right of course, but I have my issues that are valid as well.

"Well, I am sorry too, but I am very uncomfortable with the idea you being with this woman, and knowing it is because you... really want me." She doesn't laugh, or try to deny the truth of the statement, which surprises me.

"I am sorry you feel that way, but I promise I won't let her in if you leave." I believe her, I really do, but she is vulnerable, and I am... I am afraid that miss congeniality downstairs could talk her way in. There is only one thing I can do now. I have to make the fantasy real for her. It is the moment I have been moving towards since I was awakened from my rather explicit dream this evening. I take the physical steps necessary to make this happen. I stand in front of her, and stare until she meets my eyes. Once I capture them, I begin searching them for any hidden reasons that I should stop doing this. I find none. She wants me as much as I want her, that much I am certain of. I slide onto her lap, keeping her eyes locked into mine. I do not plan on letting them go anytime soon. I take her face into my hands.

"What where you dreaming about in the car?" It doesn't really matter what she says at this point, I just wanted to conjure the image of what ever it was to her mind again. I feel the blood rush to her cheeks through the palms of my hands. It is the first time I have actually felt someone blush. She licks her lips nervously, but the effect it produces is enticing. I allow my gaze to fixate on them for a moment.

"I don't remember." The words are meaningless, especially since it is a lie. I sense that she is still clinging to the notion that she can keep this from happening. I grind against her, the feel of her breast against mine washing through me, and making me tingle in all the right places.

"I think you do," I whisper, turning my head slightly so that our lips just barely touch. "Tell me."

"What are you doing?" The question is more of a breathless sigh, and she closes her eyes against the reality of what is happening. I wonder how she will remember this tomorrow.

"Seeking the truth." The words cause her lips to part involuntarily, and I take the opening, literally. I do not bother with polite exploration. My desire has grown to the point that subtly is no longer an option. A surprised gasp escapes her, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. I swallow the moans of pleasure that resonate in the space that has become our link. I am beyond the point of telling who they belong to. She pulls me closer, and brings her fingers to my jugular vain. She strokes it softly, somehow knowing what that spot does to me. A shaky sigh escapes me, and she devours it. She touches it again, only lighter, and I feel myself melt against her. How could she have known? I have not been touched properly there in a very long time. It stirs a deep need in me, and I get high on the wave of intense sexual desire that courses through my veins like a drug. She takes control, and I suddenly find myself underneath her. She grinds against me. The pressure offers some relief to the growing fervor between my thighs. She kisses me deeply, and I am overcome by her longing for me. I wrap a leg around her waist, holding her into place, I want to hold on to this feeling a little longer. I grab the back of her head and take away her illusion of control. I fuse our mouths together with the heat that burns below my skin. I want her on a level I have never experienced. She pulls away from me suddenly. Oh hell no...

"Dana, we have to..." Impossible. I bite her lips softly, stopping the thought completely.

"Don't stop." I steal any protests with a deep kiss, and rip her shirt from her shoulders for emphasis. It will be fun helping her look for the buttons later. Maybe we could make a date of it. I remove her bra with amazing ease. It's actually easier this way. This confirms my suspicions that men are idiots. She slips her hands under my sweater, and around my back. She unhooks my bra with equal ease and slides it forward. I slip my arms out of it and the sweater at the same time. I am reluctant to let go of her lips again, but my need for her skin against mine overrides the fear that she may attempt to say something stupid again. I release her long enough to discard my garment, then seize her lips once again. I touch her everywhere I can get my hands, relishing how soft she feels. She takes one of my breasts into her hands, and squeezes gently. It did not occur to me how sensitive I would be there. It feels incredible, but I can see now that I am not going to be able to handle a great deal of stimulation. She lightly grazes my nipple, and it stiffens immediately. I whimper lightly against the action. She breaks the kiss, and glides down my body, her heated breath caressing my skin. She pulls my nipple into her mouth, and suckles gently. An embarrassed flush grips me when I feel fluid as it rushes from me to her. I catch the shock that registers on her face. Then it occurs to her why that happened. She releases me and looks into my eyes.

"If you don't want me to do that I won't," she offers with an understanding smile. I am ashamed of the weak smile I offer in return, but I still shake my head no. It is purely psychological. I don't think I could handle this memory attached to that action at the moment. She seems nonplussed by my sudden hang up, as she begins to travel further down my body. She places open-mouthed kisses against my flesh, quickly taking me back to the place I was a moment ago. She finds my most prominent testament of flesh I have giving to the 'Cause', and kisses it like a badge of honor. She wraps her arms around my waist, and pulls me into a sitting position. What is this about? She reaches into the waist of my jeans, and gently removes my gun. Ah... I guess she is of the mind set that guns and sex don't mix. "Sorry, but I have this rule about making love with armed women." Well... there ya go.

"Well, I guess you have me completely disarmed now," I reply. The idea of it turns me on even more. I want to be vulnerable, and at her discretion. She pushes me back against the couch with both hands, then pulls my legs upward. She undoes the fly on my pants, then grips the waist. She allows her fingers to tickle me lightly in the process, as she removes all layers of my clothing in one fluid motion. My breathing becomes labored, and unfocused under her intense scrutiny. I blush with a sudden inadequacy. How do I compare? Will I be able to please her? She derails that train of thought when her hands begin to caress the inside of my legs. My eyelids grow heavy from the sensation. She stops short of realizing my growing desire.

"Are you sure about this?" She must be kidding.

"As sure as you where the first time," I reply.

"I was scared as hell," she admits with an ironic grin.

"So am I, but... I want it." I am way beyond denying this. She becomes retrospective for a moment, and brief panic flashes through me. God... please don't freak out on me now. Just when I begin to think it's over, her fingers begin to explore me intimately. She touches me with a knowledge I thought only I possessed. She locks me into a heated gaze. She brings the fingers that where touching me to her lips, and sucks them in into her mouth. The action reminds me of my slightly prophetic dream. It stirs me deeply to observe her tasting me in this manner. Her eyes penetrate into my soul as she performs this and she touches me again. She gathers more of the fluid that flows freely from my depths onto her fingers. She presents my taste to me, and I can tell that this is the pivotal moment. This is where I figure out weather or not I can get into the return act. Receiving is one thing, giving a whole other ball of wax altogether. I want to be able to do this, so I suck her fingers into my mouth and explore my own flavor. It is salty and sweet at the same time, and I can actually taste the energy of my own passion. It is a heady experience. I have never done this, not even in my most curious state of mind during masturbation. I have never even let a man offer me my own taste. Not that I have been with enough of them to find one that would indulge me in this manner. Perhaps, if the night I spent with Mulder had been more about passion and less about loneliness, we could have been better lovers. I believe he would have been open enough to indulge me, eventually.

"Tastes good, doesn't it," she says, her eyes never leaving mine. The thing is, it does. I hum a yes around her slender fingers, and suckle them firmly as she pulls them from my mouth. She runs her fingers down the length of my body, leaving a glistening path in their wake. I cannot help the moan that escapes me. I really like the way she touches me. She parts my folds gently, exposing my point of no return to the chilled air in the room. I can feel it stiffen in anticipation. She watches my face until she cannot ignore my femininity.

"Pleasssee," I rasp hoarsely. I can no longer stand the wait.

"Patience," she whispers softly, her lips barely grazing the spot that longs for them the most. I watch her face intently, waiting to see if this will be different from the few times another did this for me. She extends her tongue and draws tiny circles with the very tip around the distended nerve. It causes me to writhe uncontrollably beneath her. She presses her hand firmly into my abdomen, effectively ceasing my motion. I give into the need to lose control with her. She sucks my clit fully into her mouth, and I attempt to say her name. It gets stuck around the lump that is forming in my throat that indicates my impending orgasm. She pulls me in further, applying the perfect amount of pressure. I hear words coming out of my mouth, but I can't make out what they are. I shudder involuntarily against her, grab the back of her head, and grind into the sweet relief that her lips are offering. She pushes two fingers into my depths, and goes straight to a spot I didn't even know existed. She strokes it softly, and I thank the heavens for the pleasure that washes through me. I feel myself spilling into the abyss of orgasmic bliss, but instead of leaving me to crash on the rocky shores below, she takes me higher. My body betrays me, and I begin to shiver with intensity. I have never been to this place, and the pressure building deep inside of me, frightens me. Does higher up mean harder fall?? I don't want to fall from this place. I find myself begging her to stop. When she doesn't, I begin to struggle against her. I am suddenly gripped by the true force of a perfect climax. I cannot move, but my mind soars beyond my body. I am caught in the perfect balance of fear and ecstasy. She brings me down gently, and I feel like I am floating on a feather. She releases me from her touch. My body becomes Jello, but my mind is still reeling in the endorphin rush.

My breathing is labored, and I am flushed from the intense release.

I feel her move away from me completely, and I open my eyes.

"Where are you going?" I ask. We are far from done here.

"I'm going to give you a chance to umm... collect yourself, and I need something to drink." What the fuck?? I don't think so. She grabs her shirt and wraps it self consciously around her torso. I give her a three count head start before I am following her into the kitchen. I stand directly behind her, lessening her chance of escape.

"You don't get up in the middle of sex to fix yourself a drink." I try to make it clear that this isn't over. I must have startled her because the look on her face is pure shock when she rotates to face me.

"I thought we were through". Apparently I haven't made myself clear. I push her against the counter, closing the space between us.

"What about you?" I unfold her arms, which have taken on my classic defense posture. Her shirt falls open to reveal a creamy expanse of skin down the center of her body. I trace the edges of the silky soft material of her shirt, and a soft sigh escapes her full lips. "Don't you want me to... give to you." It had not occurred to me that my lack of experience could be a turn off for her. I am going to change her mind if it is true. I place a kiss between her breasts.

"You don't have to do that," she says, though I can tell she is aroused to the point that not releasing her would be a crime. I let my hands slip down to the waist of her pants, and undo the button and zipper.

"I want to," I whisper against her. I let my hands travel up her soft skin. My own skin tingles with the energy she emits. I allow myself the luxury of grazing her erect nipples lightly with my nails, and drawing lazy circles around them. I want to explore them further, but first I slip her shirt gently from her shoulders. It puddles to the floor below, and it occurs to me that I want her to feel that way too. I bring my hands back to her breasts, and fondle them tentatively. I wonder what her nipple would feel like in my mouth, and I lick my lips at the thought. No need to wonder. I take a nipple firmly into my mouth, and give it a light suck. She moans softly, and I can't help but smile at the idea that I made her do that. I circle her nipple with my tongue, as I massage the fullness of her breast. She shivers against me and holds my head in place. I move to the other breast... so it doesn't feel left out, and give it similar treatment. I pull away from what I am doing so that I can see her face. I am pleased with the flush of desire that has stained her creamy flesh. I pull her down to my level, and kiss her deeply. The hint of my desire still lingers heavy in her mouth, and it turns me on to think that I will have her flavor to relish soon. I pull her pants down to her thighs so that I can explore her depths with my fingers. She is soft and wet, and I easily find the familiar buttons that I know from self-discovery. She grows wetter, and I gain confidence that I can please her. I slip a finger inside of her and explore the depths of her center. I want to taste the passion that is flowing from her, so I remove my hand from her, and place the finger that was inside her a moment ago, into my mouth. Her flavor is different from mine. She is spicy with a smoky sweetness that makes my taste buds tingle. I feel wicked with the thoughts the flavor makes me have. "Mmmm... you taste even better," I say after removing my finger from my mouth. I lick my lips to capture a lingering molecule of her essence. I kiss a trail down the line of skin that had me so intrigued earlier, until I am on my knees and directly in front of my current goal. I pull her pants down further, then kiss the tops of her thighs. I take her into my mouth fully, and she gasps at the suddenness of it.

"Fuck," she hisses softly. That's what I'm talking about. I am amazed at how instinctual giving her pleasure is. Somehow, I was under the impression that because I had never done it, it would be hard to figure out what to do. She lets me know what she likes with subtle words of encouragement, and I find myself trying twice as hard to send her over the edge. She places a hand at the back of my neck, offering me a support, and I relax into her palm. She traces a line down my cheek, and around my profile. I bury my face deeper into her heady sent, and drink in the sweet wine that flows from her body. She grips the back of my head tightly and grinds against my tongue as it probes her clit firmly. I embrace her pelvis tightly, and dive impossibly deeper into her desire. Her orgasm seizes her body in a heaving shudder, and I am suddenly flooded with her juices. I lick her clean, savoring every drop that pours from her body. Her movements begin to still, and I kiss the inside of her thighs softly.

"That was amazing," I say into her thigh. It was the most amazing thing I have ever done. She reaches down for me, and pulls me to a standing position. She takes my cheeks into her hands.

"You, are amazing," she says, then kisses my deeply. The tang of our combined flavors dances on my tongue like dew on a spring morning. She devours me, seeking to claim as much of the taste as possible. I give it to her freely, because I plan on having more, very soon.

"Take me to bed Agent Reyes." She smiles warmly at me.

"Yes ma'am.

Fin-


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