TITLE: S. W. & 7 D’s (aka 7 Steps to Apple Pancakes).

AUTHOR: Triton

Email: triton-x@yahoo.com

or visit my little library at: http://geocities.datacellar.net/triton-x/Fanfic

DATE: 6th February, 2000

SUMMARY: Scully deals with an important aspect of her character, with a little help from a group of height-challenged, trouble making muses.

DISCLAIMER: X-Files, Mulder, Scully and all related characters belong to that amazing person called Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Network. I mean no infringement. I am just borrowing the characters briefly to have a play, to see what I can do with them while CC isn’t watching, (and if he objects, I’ll just blame this darn chip in the back of my neck!!).

CATEGORY: S and MSR themes.

RATING: (NC-17)

SPOILERS: None whatsoever, I do believe! I think.

ARCHIVE: Sure, Fine, Whatever!

NOTE: AH!! - what can I say. I am rather ‘happy’ myself that all my muses had a chance to come out and play. I’ve enjoyed myself thoroughly, and even coped with 40 degree Celsius heat (and a couple of ice-cold beers) to reach my goal.

This is Part Seven of a Seven Part fanfic. Scully POV.

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As she opened the front door to her apartment, she wondered whether Mulder would also be amused at the analogous representation of her actions. That the unobstructed welcome into her apartment mirrored a subconscious acceptance of his presence into her private domain. Not the three-dimensional structure that she surrounded around herself, but the omni-dimensional structure of her own entity.

Leaving the front door to her apartment ajar, Scully headed back into the kitchen and located the mugs for the coffee. (Why is it that when anyone else tidies up your kitchen, they always displace things in the most ridiculous spots - now where is the logic in placing mugs in amongst the plates? Can’t they see that the mugs belong in the mug cupboard!)

She was standing at the open fridge when Mulder spoke behind her.

"The door was open." There was no question attached to his statement, but she could detect an element of understanding. She turned slowly, settling her gaze on his curious expression, relying on the use of their most common method of communication to convey her meaning.

"So!" she said, after a long silence.

"So!" Mulder echoed, then grinned at her and headed towards the pantry, reaching out to retrieve a container of flour.

"Now what are you doing, Mulder?"

"I wanted to give you the complete package, and that includes breakfast."

Scully lifted an eyebrow and spoke to his back. "The whole ‘package’, Mulder? And what exactly does that entail?"

He turned his head and flashed her a cheeky grin. "Apple pancakes and anything else your heart desires." He grabbed one of the unused coffee mugs and began dipping it into the flour.

"Anything?"

"Yep, Scully, anything. I’m even prepared to sit through a Meg Ryan film with you, if that is what you want, although I can’t vouch for any willingness, on my behalf, to restrain from hurling obnoxious comments at the screen!" Dusting flour from his hands, he stretched across the bench and grabbed apples from the fruit bowl.

Scully focused on his fingers as he began to peel and dice the crisp flesh.

"And, Mulder, how far are you prepared to go?"

"I’ll go as far as you deem necessary. I trust you, Scully."

Scully pondered this entendre as Mulder grabbed required utensils and ingredients from their respective hidey-holes, littering the bench with their necessity.

"Mulder, define pampering for me." She was rewarded with a chortle.

"I had wondered when that question would arise! My definition? A bit of caring, a bit of sharing, and bit of spoiling." The sound of metal and wood striking, and the bubbling of liquid, interjected through his words. The aromatic smell of cinnamon and cloves infused the air between them.

"And that’s it?"

"Yep! See - nothing to be afraid of!"

"OK." Scully moved to the fridge to pull out a carton of milk and a carton of eggs. Handing these to him, she contemplated her personal expectations, her attention drifting away from observing Mulder assembling the remaining ingredients. Was there any reason, any true reason, that compelled her to continually deny this man from her innermost self? He already fulfilled so many other roles in her life, what damage could occur from accepting him completely.

She shuddered at that thought, the notion did terrify her, she knew what damage could occur. But, alternatively, was this damage control more important to her than retaining the respect and friendship she treasured from the man standing in front of her. The same man who was currently cooking her breakfast, pouring her a freshly brewed coffee and smiling tenderly at her?

Accepting the steaming mug from him, offering him an affectionate smile back, she moved away and sat back into the chair. Sipping on the strong brew, she felt a pang of unexpected contentment.

All Mulder had wanted was to offer her some kindness. All he had expected was to see her smile. He had not treated her differently in any professional way, he had not changed his expectations of her, he had not overstepped the boundaries of their relationship at any time. This realisation momentarily stunned her. She had been so busy looking within herself, so busy berating her actions and trying to reign control over that segment of her private life, that she had not seriously considered how Mulder dealt with ‘her’ emotions.

She closed her eyes as she felt tears threaten to prick. What more could she possibly want? What was she waiting for? How much more proof could Mulder offer her that they were stronger together than apart?

Armed with this newfound respect for him, she opened her eyes and was surprised to see Mulder was no longer standing at the sink. Before she could assimilate another thought, he wandered back into the kitchen with a small bottle of St Agnes brandy.

"Brandy? It is 6:30 am, Mulder!"

"Culinary use, Scully, purely culinary. And since you won’t be operating any heavy machinery today, what’s the concern?"

He measured a few tablespoons into the warmed apple mass, stirred it in, then moved the saucepan away from the heat.

"Mulder?"

"Scully?"

"Do I get to add my definition of ‘pamper’ to yours?"

He turned away from the cooktop to look at her, eyes sparkling with amusement, a cheeky grin threatening to twinkle in the corner of his lips. "Define away, Scully. I’d love to hear your sceptical analysis of what pampering entails."

"Pampering! To indulge....to gratify the whims or wishes of...." she lowered her voice as she approached him. "Could pampering sometimes include this...?" she whispered as she reached out and stroked his cheek.

"And could pampering sometimes include this...?" she continued, as she placed her hands against his chest, stroking at the fabric, resting her body against his. Wrapping his arms loosely around her waist, he leant into the embrace, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. She raised her arms to circle his neck and she felt his hands fall against the bare skin of her buttocks as the t-shirt rode up with her movements.

Mulder paused momentarily and she wondered whether he was gauging whether this was included in her boundaries of pampering. When she made no move to tug the fabric back down, he left his large hands cupped against her soft skin.

"And, Mulder, can it involve this..." she murmured as she began nibbling on his ear lobe, smiling in pleasure as he responded with a low moan, "..and, Mulder, this too...." her voice dropping into a husky dulcet as she ran her tongue over his open lips, tasting the coffee drenched skin. Capturing the lower lip between hers, she sucked tenderly, tickling with her tongue.

Mulder sighed into her mouth. "Scully...I think your definition of pampering far exceeds my definition. But I am concerned that I am benefiting more from this than you are!" and sliding his hands from her bare buttocks down the back of her thighs, he bent and lifted her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist for balance. "I said I was going to cook you breakfast, Scully, and I am going to attend to that first!" and he placed her onto the kitchen bench, next to the cooktop.

The cold surface of the bench touched the warm skin of her arse and a tingle shivered up her spine. Although Mulder had moved away so as to reach up above her and drag out a heavy frying pan from the cupboard, he was still standing directly in front of her. Her knees were resting against his hips and in one fluid movement she moved her calves against the back of his thighs, pulling him closer. Leaning back, using her arms for support, she balanced herself on her out-turned palms.

"Yes, I would like breakfast, Mulder," and she smiled up at him with unabashed pleasure, pushing her pelvic area forward a few centimetres until she could feel the fabric of his trousers brush against her pubic hair. She stilled herself then, looking up at the bewildered Mulder standing above her, frypan still in hand.

"Breakfast?" she reminded him.

He blinked, then with great dexterity, placed the frypan onto the cook-top. "I have to get serious here, Scully. How am I to cook this breakfast if you continue to distract me?"

"I promise to stop distracting you, feel free to continue, go ahead," and she loosened the grip of her ankles slightly, but not wholly, and was rewarded with a wide pleased grin from the man standing in her midst. Without moving away, he heated up the pan, threw in the required dob of butter and once melted, tipped in a large dollop of the pancake mixture. While he waited for it to bubble and brown, he turned his attention back to Scully, cupping her face, leaning in to touch her lips with his own, sucking gently.

The smell of the sweet baked batter and mulled cinnamon mingled in with Mulder’s own distinctive aroma, combined with the sensation of his soft moistened lips moving around her mouth, bombarded her senses completely. Scully lost focus. Completely and utterly.

Mulder continued on the same vein as he prepared the meal - flipping the cooked pancake, turning back to Scully to kiss her in earnest, pouring batter, kissing more, stirring, kissing, flipping over batter, kissing, moaning, flipping more, licking, groaning, new dob of butter, kissing, pouring of batter, kissing, stirring, licking. Each time coming in for an intimate taste, devouring her, then leaving her breathless to attend to his task, returning quickly before she had a chance to complain or miss the sensations. She was feeling dizzy, her whole body intensely aroused by the time he had fully prepared 6 round flat disks of the cooked batter and she was losing sensation in her legs from balancing against him. She dropped her limbs down and made to slide away, but Mulder caught her up by the waist, the dark sensual gaze of his eyes stalling her movements as they stared down into her own.

"I’ve nearly finished here, just wait. Don’t move! Where do you keep your baking dishes?" She mutely pointed beneath the bench she was perched upon and he bent down and pulled opened the cupboard door, retrieving a small deep ceramic dish. As he straightened, he nibbled at her ankles, at her calves, at her knees, then moved away.

Floating, she watched him spoon heaps of apple mixture into the centre of each pale yellow disk and deftly roll each one into a cylindrical shape, positioning them snugly together in the dish, pouring the remainder of the apple mixture across the top.

"Ah, Mulder, those are crepes, not pancakes!" she managed to croak, her voice hoarse from agreeing vehemently with his earlier administrations.

"Whatever, they all taste the same in the end! While I was at Oxford we made crepes, here we make pancakes!" he quipped as he placed the concoction into the warm oven. Striding back to where she was poised, he repositioned himself between her legs and reached for her, stroking the fingers of one hand through her hair and placing his other hand against her lower back. She scooted forward again, pressing her body against him, sighing as he tightened his embrace.

"How long before the pancakes-dash-crepes are ready?" she murmured into his ear, rolling her tongue around the ridges of the ear canal, simultaneously running her hands through his hair, drawing him close.

"About 10 minutes, give or take a few," he murmured back against her cheek, searching for her mouth.

"Are we going to eat before or after, Mulder?"

The "Grrrrrr!" of his response vibrated along the back of her throat, expelled into her mouth as a frantic escape of warm breath. He crushed his lips harder to hers, sucking and flickering over the swollen portal of her echoed growls. He moved his fingers back to her buttocks, sliding them under the t-shirt and up along her spine, thumbs splayed along her ribcage. As the pads of his thumbs encountered the extra sensitive surface of her breasts, she was overcome by a series of shudders and her pelvis rhythmically ground against his groin. Tiny pants of air expelled from her mouth as his lips slid wet and slippery across her own, the delicate friction of the tightened fabric stroking against her clitoris instigating a fierce throbbing, the swollen folds of her labia engorging further. A tight pulling sensation thrummed at the lower end of her vaginal opening, pleading to be stimulated, pleading for attention.

"Oh god, Mulder, now!" she gasped, scrambling her fingers to his trousers, yanking down the zip, pushing the first barrier away. Before that article of clothing had even pooled around his ankles, she had stripped the boxers down past his hips and held the hot stiffened penis in her hand.

Wrapping her fingers around the thickened shaft, she directed the glans into the wet folds surrounding her vagina, rubbing the foreskin against her clitoris first to provide lubrication.

Angling her hips for easy access, Scully groaned as his penis slipped along her drenched vestibule and into the vaginal opening. Mulder held his breath as his first thrust met with some resistance and he rocked into her gently until the muscles at her opening relaxed around him and allowed access. With a shuddering sigh, he began plunging, increasing the friction against her internal ridges, long deep strokes within her. Needing balance, she wrapped her calves across his back, crossing her ankles to provide support. Clinging to his back with fistfuls of his t-shirt, and his hands firmly anchored around her waist, she mirrored his movements.

Scully came first, a pulsating release of pressure that shot right through every nerve ending in her body. As she relaxed against him, holding him tight, he pulled her face close and kissed her again, continuing to thrust into her until he ejaculated, emitting a staggering moan against her lips.

They remained within their intimate embrace, his now flaccid penis still entrapped within her warm confines, until both had stopped shaking. Nuzzling her sweat glistened cheek, he stroked her hair gently with his thumbs. Releasing her fingers from their entwined state within his t-shirt, she cupped his face within her palms. He rested his forehead against hers and she looked up into his eyes.

"You do make me happy, Mulder."

His smile lit up his face, shining out through his eyes.

"But, Mulder, don’t expect me to change over night. I don’t know how much of this ‘pampering’ I can deal with at one time!" Scully grinned broadly. His responding chuckle came from deep within and radiated out through his chest, quivering against her own.

"Oh, and Mulder!"

"Scully?"

"Feed me pancakes, Mulder, feed me now!"

END.