Title: Heartland I: Delta
Author: Fey Eiluned
Rating: NC-17

WARNING! This fanfic contains sex of the MSR kind! If you don’t like reading about that, then don’t read this!

Spoilers: FTF (not flickfic),
Timeline: Late season six, but Biogenesis hasn’t happened yet
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not mine. I’m just doing the crazy, kinky things with them that Chris Carter only dreams about. The lyrics belong to U2.
Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name, addy and header are included. Oh, and drop me a note. I like to fill myself with pride at seeing my babies archived.
FEEEEEEEEDBAAAAAAAACK!
Summary: Things get hot in New Orleans.
XxX
See the sunrise over her skin
Don’t change it
See the sunrise over her skin
Dawn changes everything
And the delta sun burns bright and violent...

U2, "Heartland"

XxX

FBI Regional Field Office
New Orleans, Louisiana
July 13
7:39 p.m.

I feel his gaze searing me like a flame across the open FBI field office. I stand with my back to him, explaining my autopsy report to another agent, but I can still feel his eyes, raking over me in a most unprofessional way. I wonder if anyone else has noticed.

It is hot in New Orleans. Hot and humid. The kind of heat that makes your clothes stick to your body like glue. We are here to assist on a multiple murder case. Handsome young men, found dead in cemeteries, naked and staked through the heart. A friend of mine from the Academy asked us to take a look at it. I could tell he didn’t want to be anywhere near this case. Mulder was more than happy to take it on. Until he found out that victims had been left in rather sexually provocative positions. It had taken all of my willpower not to laugh at him when he caught sight of the latest victim, spread eagled over a stone crypt. That was a panic look if I’ve ever seen one.

I try desperately to concentrate on my words, on making sense, but it is too late. All I am aware of is Mulder’s eyes, blazing through me, straight to my core. Agent Marlowe looks at me quizzically. "Are you all right, Agent Scully?" he asks.

"I’m... I’m fine. Just got a little sidetracked," I reply, dimly listening to a phone ringing.

"Now, about the toxicology. You said that the screens showed some kind of chemical?" he prompts me.

"Yes. It seemed to be a drug cocktail similar to Ecstasy..."

A shout interrupts my speech. "We’ve got a lead!"

Agent Marlowe rises to stand beside me, unnaturally close. The SAC is speaking, but I can’t pay attention. The direction I’m now facing forces me to look straight at Mulder. His eyes flicker back and forth between me and Marlowe, and a look of unmistakable jealousy crosses his countenance.

I instinctively take a step away from Marlowe, but the damage has been done. To invoke the old cliche, if looks could kill, Agent Marlowe would be pushing up daisies. I wonder what brought on this sudden bout of possessiveness. He usually gets his feathers ruffled whenever there’s any kind of threat directed at me. I’m used to that by now. It’s been going on for years. But there’s no threat here. And I’m certainly not accustomed to the injection of searing lust into the equation. For the longest time, I could never imagine that Mulder felt that way about me. He’d tease, toss witty innuendoes at me until he was blue in the face, but if he really wanted me, he kept it well hidden.

Besides now, the only time I’ve been on the receiving end of one of his you-me-on-the-floor-NOW looks was last summer. He’d stared me down in his hall, seducing me without saying a word. I heard every sacrament he made, but everything hit me when he held my face, his grip just slightly too tight, his thumbs moving in tiny circles on my cheeks. His confessional had tugged at my heartstrings, but this look made me liquefy, made me want to sink to my knees and show him what he really meant to me.

I inanely hope that the flush on my face will pass off as a result of the heat invading the office. Marlowe keeps giving me concerned looks and Mulder’s expression just keeps getting more murderous. For some odd reason, that turns me on more. The sheer violence in his eyes makes me shiver.

"Well, agents. Get to your stakeout sites, keep in contact with me over your radios," SAC Holden clapped his hands together hard and the gathering of agents dispersed, heading for the exits.

Agent Marlowe starts to ask me something, but before the first word gets out of his mouth, Mulder is on him. "Let’s go, Scully," he says to me, but all of the huff and puff is directed at the understandably confused Marlowe.

Mulder’s hand darts around me to rest solidly on my lower back, steering me out of the office, leaving Agent Marlowe standing alone in bewilderment. Not a word is spoken as we make our way to our rental car, and Mulder’s touch is no less heavy-handed. It feels like he’s shooting electricity into me, a tingling numbness radiating up my back and down to my knees.

He unlocks my door and swings it open, guiding me into my seat. Only then does he take his hand from me. The door closes and I sit there in a daze. Why is he having such an effect on me? I mean, Christ, he’s touched me before. I guess it just never felt like he was about to throw me on the floor and fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.

He gets in and starts the ignition, and I can’t help but shudder at the course my thoughts are taking. He throws me a glance, his expression a little softer but no less wanton, and I get the eerie feeling that he knows what I’m thinking about. Hell, I’m so aroused, he can probably smell it. I shift under his gaze, crossing my legs tightly. This does absolutely nothing to alleviate my own situation and only seems to clue him in more. A ghost of a smile crosses his lips before he puts the car in gear and pulls out into the traffic.

"So, how do you feel about sitting in a cemetery all night?" he asks nonchalantly, breaking the silence with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

I give him a confused look. "What are you talking about?" I say, relieved to hear that my voice sounds as bland as it usually does.

"Weren’t you listening to Holden? We’re staking out the St. Louis #3 cemetery tonight. All night." His last words hold a subtle promise. I stare at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what’s up his sleeve. His face reveals nothing, so I pull out the map of New Orleans.

"Where is this cemetery?" I ask.

"On Esplanade Avenue. I don’t think we can miss it."

XxX

Things feel normal, I think as we wander through the cemetery. Maybe there’s still an undercurrent of... something, but I can’t put my finger on it.

"Let’s find a place to sit. We’re going to be here a while. We might as well be comfortable," he says, turning down a path.

That innuendo is in his words again, I can hear it. I follow him silently, so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I nearly knock him over when he stops suddenly.

He nods to a statue looking over the tomb. "That looks familiar," he says.

I look at the tall, grey marble angel, her arms crossed over her chest, her wings folded at her back, her head bowed in contemplation. "Wasn’t that in Interview With The Vampire?" I ask.

He looks mildly surprised. "I didn’t think you were into vampire movies, Scully."

"I’m not. But I saw that one."

He motions to a stone bench that rests in the shade of a tall cottonwood tree. "Have a seat."

I’m beginning to feel a little nervous about him, and I really can’t say why. I keep catching him staring at me with this hungry look on his face, like he wants to devour me whole. I sit on the bench, leaving enough room for him. He doesn’t sit, though. He stands in front of me, entirely too close for comfort, so that he towers over me and I have to crane my neck to see his face. My feet are dangling from the high bench, swinging back and forth like a child’s.

"It’s hot, isn’t it?" he asks, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual.

I nod in agreement, sending a glance at the burning sun, dipping low in the pale blue sky. "You think it would cool off. I think it’s around eight p.m." I reply, trying to make innocuous conversation.

"Mm-hm. It’ll be getting dark soon."

He’s staring down at me, his face stony. Christ, he is making me uncomfortable. Well, to be completely honest, he’s really turning me on. With Mulder, they’re synonymous.

"You aren’t afraid, are you?" he queries.

My eyebrow creeps up without my consent. "Afraid? Of what?" I shoot back.

He shrugs casually. "Well, this is a creepy old cemetery. Something might jump out of one of those tombs and get you." His voice is all honey, dripping over me with its sticky sweetness.

"I seriously doubt that, Mulder," I try to sound cocky, the way he always does, but it just ends up sounding breathy.

Surprisingly, he backs off, moving to lean against the tree. Everything is quiet for a long time, and I watch the sun slide down to the horizon, stretching itself from a ball into an odd, liquidy pour. Finally, it drops completely out of sight, and we are left in that time when the sky is still bright, but all of the earth is dark, dusky. Mulder was right; this is a spooky place. All of the shadows are stretched to bizarre lengths, overlapping and melding. I’m sitting in the umbra of the angel, cloaked in darkness. I look up at her, half-afraid that she’ll blink at me. It’s a stupid childhood fear of mine. I was always terrified that my dolls would come to life. I used to hide them under my bed at night so they couldn’t hurt me.

A flash of movement catches my eye and I turn my head to see Mulder advancing on me stealthily. My eyes widen involuntarily. His movements make him look like a wolf stalking its prey. Once again, I feel a wet rush of heat between my thighs.

I’m not going to lie. I allow myself Mulder fantasies. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Six years of celibacy can really try your patience. I’ll admit that I almost slept with Ed Jerse. But honestly, it was Mulder’s face I kept seeing. It’s kind of sick. I was fantasizing about the man who was treating me like shit. I guess I’m just a little masochist. Most of the fantasies I have usually involve him being Mr. Dominance. My particular favorite revolves around a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold and a belt.

"Did you like him, Scully?"

His voice startles me. "Who?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly.

He looks at me from under heavy lids, his face sharply shadowed. "Agent Marlowe." He spits the name out as if it were poison.

I suddenly get it. He thought I was flirting...

"No."

He looks marginally satisfied. "Good," he says, moving a step closer to me, within an arm’s reach, "I’d hate for him to get the wrong idea."

I can’t help leaning back on the bench, trying to put some distance between us. He’s giving me that look again and I’m afraid of where this is heading. I want it, but damn, am I afraid.

"The wr...wrong idea about what?" I stammer as he leans closer.

He’s hovering right over me now, his hands beside my thighs on the bench, his face inches from mine. "About who you belong to."

His voice is so dark and raw that my brain telegraphs the message straight to my clit, and I can’t help but shudder hard. I don’t think I’ve ever been this aroused before. "Oh? And who is that?" I murmur, my voice all but gone.

His eyes flash in the burgeoning darkness. "Me," he whispers just before sealing his mouth to mine.

I am utterly shocked. Mulder is pushing me backward, bending my back into an arch, thrusting his tongue lazily into my mouth. He presses his lean, hard body against me, forcing me to lean back until my top half is suspended over empty space. His arms move to wrap around my waist, holding me to him, his hips grinding against mine. I moan into his mouth and he answers me with a groan of his own, slowly sliding his tongue against mine, flicking the tip against the roof of my mouth.

I thought I had been kissed before. Boy, was I wrong. Mulder kisses me with such passion, as if kissing me is the only thing in the world. His body crushes against mine, fitting the rigid length of his cock against my belly. The friction of my clothes against my hardening nipples is breathtaking. I shiver in spite of the sweltering Delta heat.

Mulder finally pulls away, giving my bottom lip one last nip. He rises to his full height and steps back, regarding me lustfully. His dark eyes are hypnotic. I feel like I’m in a trance, aware of only one thing. Mulder.

"Take your jacket off, Scully."


End Part One