TITLE: Games: Sudden Death Overtime
AUTHOR: Radclyffe
EMAIL ADDRESS: rdclyfhall@hotmail.com
ARCHIVE: anywhere, just let me know
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Vignette, Angst
SPOILERS: Tithonus
KEYWORDS: Scully/Other(female); Scully/Slash
SUMMARY: In the aftermath of Tithonus, Scully seeks her mortality. 

DISCLAIMERS:The characters of Scully, Mulder, Skinner and
others/events introduced on the X-Files are the sole property of
Chris Carter etc, and are used here without permission for 
entertainment, not for profit.

Author's Note: This is not the Scully of Genesis.

Comments welcome.

*****

Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, DC
3:03 pm

Returning to work was the easy part.  It was something familiar, it gave 
structure and form to the days, it even gave purpose, if I allowed it, 
and didn't look too closely at it.  Mulder was there, and he was 
familiar and dependable.  He doesn't change much from day to day.  His 
single-mindedness, his immutable tunnel vision, is one of the more 
comforting things about him.  When you begin to ask yourself _ What's 
the point?  _, you can simply look at Mulder, and there will be an 
answer.  The point is to search for the answer.  It doesn't matter so 
much what the answer is, as long as you continue to search.  
Obsessively, determinedly, unrelentingly -- to the exclusion of all 
else, so that emotional emptiness and personal isolation become 
meaningless.  There is only the unraveling of tangled motivations and 
murky desires.

The problem was, it wasn't working anymore.  Looking across the room at 
Mulder, I saw only an endless stretch of pointless days reflected back 
at me in his fanatical eyes.  When the answers were known, would it make 
any difference to anyone?  It certainly wouldn't bring Missy back, nor 
would it satisfy my family's wishes for me.  It wouldn't keep me warm at 
night, nor even particularly satisfy me.  I'm not sure knowing that I 
served the public good will actually fill the hunger at my core.  I used 
to think it would, or more honestly, I only hoped it would.  There is 
something about being dead, though, even for - thirty seconds, a minute 
- that alters your view of things.

The truth was, I was damn tired of thinking about it.  I had been 
staring at the phone, toying with the idea of calling for the better 
part of my second morning back at the bureau.  I think the bosses were 
trying to do me a favor by not working me too hard my first week back, 
because all I had to look forward to were a stack of interviews that 
needed to be checked for background discrepancies.  Mulder was actually 
out doing legitimate work.  AD Kersh had given him the incredibly 
challenging assignment of inspecting former missile silo installations 
that had been converted into underground storage facilities.  For some 
reason Mulder found this exciting.  I have a feeling he thought he might 
find aliens hidden there.  Whatever his expectations, he had departed 
smiling for the airport six hours before.  I, of course, had spent an 
hour assuring him that I would be fine without him, that I was 
completely recovered, and that I was ready, able, and willing to return 
to my duties.  What I didn't tell him is that I had a persistent sense 
of disembodiment since I woke up in the hospital, and realized that I 
was still alive.  They weren't kidding about that white light business.  
The problem was I had played that scene too damn many times.  How many 
times, exactly, do you get to turn your back on it and scramble onto 
solid ground?

This was exactly what I did not want to be doing.  I stared at the phone 
once again.  What would I say?  I needed company?  That wasn't it, 
exactly.  I could call my mother for that.  What I needed, of course, 
was to_ feel _ alive.  I _ knew _ that I was alive - intellectually.  
Other people seemed to think I was alive, because they interacted with 
me in pretty much the same way they had previously.  I had some 
experience with zombies, and I was quite sure that I wasn't one.  The 
fact remained, however, that I felt like one.  I was moving through time 
and space, arising at the same time, showering, driving to work, and 
actually performing my obligations in much the same way as I had before. 
I was watching myself doing these things. But I had yet to reinhabit my 
body.  I'm not trying to say I was floating somewhere watching this.  I 
just had an eerie sense of no longer being Dana Scully.  Dana Scully was 
there all right, but she wasn't me.  And how exactly did I get the two 
of us back together again?

My hand was on the phone.  It could've been a minute, it might have been 
hour.  I watched my hand lift the receiver.  My fingers pressed buttons 
and I listened to the dial tone, then ringing. A mechanical voice, 
similar to the one I heard emanating from my own body with regularity, 
informed me that no one was home but that my message was important.  
Saved.  I could replace the receiver and forget the whole thing.  Which 
is what I really wanted to do. Instead, I heard my voice say, "The 
Ritz-Carlton.  6 p.m..  Ask for me at the front desk."

Well.  That was a first.  But not the first time I thought about it.

****

5:59 p.m. 
Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Washington D.C.

She was many things, and prompt was one of them.  There was a sharp rap 
on the door at precisely 6 p.m..  I had already showered, and washed and 
dried my hair.  I was wearing one of those ridiculously expensive robes 
they leave in the bathrooms in hotels like this.  There was a small sign 
attached to the sleeve telling me that for a mere 95 dollars, I can take 
it with me as a souvenir.  A souvenir.  Perhaps I would take something, 
but it wouldn't be this robe.  When I opened the door, she was lounging 
indolently against the door jam.  The corner of her mouth was lifted in 
a sardonic grin. 

"You called?" she said with a hint of laughter.  Her blue eyes, as 
sharp-edged as a scalpel, were serious.  

"You came."

"Yes."

I was assured that the ground rules still held.  No strings, no 
attachments, no explanations.  Where she came from, and where she went 
to when we parted, was still a mystery.  A mystery easily solved had I 
wanted to.  The fact was, I didn't.  There is something too dangerous 
about the warmth of her nearness, about the softness of her skin against 
mine, about the comforting murmur of her voice as she drifted off to 
sleep after she came.  I didn't want to know anything more about her 
than those things.  What she might know about me, she never mentioned.

I had ordered wine, and an assortment of cheeses, fruits, and other 
light fair.  I knew we would be ravenous at some point.  Right now, that 
was not what I needed to feed my hunger.

I reached for her hand and drew her inside.  She came willingly, and I 
could feel her assent to let me lead the way.  I brought her to stand by 
the bed, and began to unbutton her shirt.  I took my time, opening the 
package that contained a precious present.  Despite the fact that I 
already knew what lay beneath, the excitement had not abated.  She 
shivered slightly as my fingernails grazed over the swell of the inside 
of her breast.  When I parted the material over her belly, I could see 
the peaks of her nipples pushing out the cotton material.  They were 
erect already, and the memory of their yielding firmness between my lips 
brought a flood of arousal trailing down my thigh.  I circled her navel 
with my index finger, marveling at the flickering muscles beneath the 
skin.  Wordlessly, she moved her legs apart, beckoning me lower. I knew 
damn well what she wanted, because I wanted it too.  I wanted her 
fingers on my hard clit.  I wanted her to stroke the wetness from 
between my swollen lips up the sides of the stiff shaft, over the tense 
hood, and down again.  I wanted her to finger me to the point of 
explosion, and then back away, leaving me breathless, and aching, and 
wanting so desperately for it to end.  I knew exactly what she wanted, 
and _ I _ wanted her to want it more.

I slipped the shirt down off her shoulders and opened my mouth to inhale 
a nipple.  I used my tongue to move it back and forth, beating it gently 
with the soft stiffness.

"Uh huh," she murmured softly.

I had to stifle my urge to bite down.  She wasn't ready for that yet, 
and as much as I wanted to feel the spongy hardness yielding to my 
teeth, pain was not my objective.  I wanted to torture her, but I had no 
intention of hurting her.  I continued to suck, first one then the 
other, my hands drifting down to her jeans.  I worked the buttons free 
and slowly drew them down over her slender hips until she could step 
free.  I glanced down once, briefly, and saw the golden strands wet with 
arousal.  I could smell her desire.  Sharp, tangy, rising hotly to call 
me to her.  Her round buttocks clenched as I grasped them, pulling her 
closer, running my tongue down the middle of her belly, piercing her 
navel, then drifting lower to suck the hollow inside her hip bone.  Her 
hands were in my hair, moving my face against her skin.  I could feel 
the tremor in her arms as she silently urged me down.  Her hips were 
rocking now as her legs spread further.  She was shameless in her 
wanting, in her need, and her urgency inflamed me.  My clit twitched 
steadily between my legs, and I wanted her mouth on it so badly.  Thirty 
seconds, maybe a minute.  I might make it that long if she put her warm 
soft lips around my clit.  If she licked the underside of the throbbing 
base, I might hold out that long.  If she pushed her tongue up under the 
hood and stroked back and forth over the tip, I might make it.  Thirty 
seconds, a minute.  But I was ready, I was so ready.

I pulled her back a few steps so that I could sit on the edge of the 
bed.  I lowered my head and parted the hair between her legs with my 
tongue.  I didn't need to search very far.  Her clit was erect, bright 
red, and standing out from the sheath.  Clear glistening cum gathered on 
the fine down covering her lips.  With the very tip of my tongue, I 
touched her clit.  Just a brief glance and then away.  Her whole body 
jerked, and a strangled cry escaped her lips. *beautiful* 

Again - against the head - and yet again.  Never for more than a 
fleeting instant.  Each time, she twitched and moaned.  Thirty seconds, 
a minute?

"Please."

A single word.  A volume.  I had no reason to deny her.  Not when she 
had come so willingly to answer my need.  Opening my lips I sucked 
gently and took all of her. I felt her in every cell, infusing every 
fiber of my being with power and infinite tenderness.  As I drew her in 
and out, her hips rocking to me, I saw the light surround us and then 
retreat. This was real, this was life.  I slipped my thumb inside her, 
and cupped her ass in the palm of my hand.  I pressed backward against 
the muscles that surrounded me, and began to lick her.  I moved in and 
out with the same cadence as the strokes of my tongue.  Thirty seconds, 
a minute.

"You're going to make me come."

Oh yes.  My heart raced, I shifted on the bed, tightening my thighs as 
my clit began to spasm in time with hers.  I won't come this way, but I 
will get close.  As her nerve endings flared, and her muscles 
contracted, and her breath tore from her body on the piercing waves of 
her orgasm, I felt the answering surges to the depth of my being.  I 
felt her knees begin to buckle and I wrapped both arms around her 
thighs.  I pulled her tight against my face and held her up with the 
strength of my passion.  I would never let her fall.

I held her until her trembling subsided, and then pushed myself back 
against the pillows. I opened the robe and spread my legs, watching her 
face as she watched me.  She was flushed and sweating, and when she 
brought her eyes to mine, they were still unfocused with the last 
remnants of her pleasure. I grasped her hand and drew her down to my 
side.  I brought her fingers to my wetness.  She watched my face as I 
led her inside of me.  When her thumb brushed my clit, I nearly came.

Thirty seconds, a minute.

I closed my eyes, and let her heal me.

End Games: Sudden Death Overtime 01/01