TITLE: If He Asked You

AUTHOR: Narida Law

E-MAIL ADDRESS: [email protected]
WEBSITE: http://www.angelfire.com/ms/naridalaw/
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: None.
KEYWORDS: Not telling.
CATEGORY: SR or VR (The criteria is different everywhere so
you decide!)
DISTRIBUTION: Do not send to Gossamer; I'll send myself.
Otherwise, okay for anywhere else as long as these headers
remain intact. Telling me is sweet and would be much
appreciated, but not obligatory.
DISCLAIMER: I'm only borrowing. I'll return them once
they've recovered. <g> Or maybe I won't. Although, I have to
say that Chris Carter and I are thinking with similar minds
lately. Either that, or my shipper sisters and brothers have
really lit the flame under his buns.
FEEDBACK: I would love to hear from you.

SUMMARY: A woman's lover wants a few questions answered.

If He Asked You
by Narida Law
~~~~~~~~

The whole thing began one afternoon when he caught you

staring off into space. It wouldn't have been so bad if he
hadn't been talking when you were doing it.

He stopped speaking, and it took you several moments of

silence to realize it. Looking at you speculatively, he
crossed his arms. "You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

Caught, you considered denying it, embarrassment already

seeping into your cheeks. However, there was no point in
lying about it, since your hand was in the proverbial cookie
jar. So you answered truthfully. "Yes, I was." You were
proud of the strong, steady sound of your voice.

He ran a hand along his jaw, the rasp of his stubble loud in
the small room. His eyes were fixed on you, unable to hide
his curiosity. "Do you do it a lot?"

You squirmed. "What's 'a lot'?"

He fairly gaped at you, his gaze darkening, before they

dropped, suddenly finding the floor fascinating. His voice
dropped as well. "Is he better than me?"

You were amused by this sudden show of insecurity and

laughed, thinking he was teasing you. "Is he what?"

"I want to know," he insisted, looking up again, his dark

eyes earnest.

You stared at him warily, wondering what he was trying to

pull. He met your gaze steadily. He was serious? "What the
hell are you talking about?"

The request had thrown you off guard. You had thought it
good-natured ribbing at first, and that was all right. But
he seemed intent on getting a real answer from you, and that
made you uneasy. Uncomfortable. In all your years together,
he had never before asked anything quite so personal.

"I need to know." His voice conveyed real uncertainty, and

you found that, like with most matters, you couldn't refuse.

Still, it wouldn't do to let him think you would capitulate

to his whims without contemplation. So you chewed
thoughtfully on your lip for a few moments, considering him,
before answering. "All right."

He smiled then, and you wondered if you'd been had.

***

"I want to know what you would do with him."

You understand what he wants, that this is why you are here.

You sit across from one another on his bed, naked. Your legs
are folded under you; your calves meet the backs of your
thighs, and the soles of your feet cradle the soft skin of
your ass. Your knees are parted, revealing the area of your
body that has his current searing attention. For the past
few moments, his gaze has fluctuated between your pussy and
your breasts, and both areas are now tight with arousal. You
want to know when this staring contest will end, but tonight
it seems that he is calling the shots. It was planned this
way.

He is sitting in a similar manner as you, and his long, hard

cock, rising up to meet his stomach, has your undivided
attention. It is pulsing, dark red with blood, with desire
for you. You know that it wants to be where his gaze
currently resides, and you don't understand his reticence.
Or perhaps that is the plan -- he wants you wanton and
trembling in frustration.

"I've started the camera," he rasps, and you automatically

turn your head to look toward the video camera, mounted some
distance away. Its one eye will be taking visual dictation
of the night's events. "You don't mind, do you?" His tone is
challenging. "You wouldn't mind if =he= did it."

It's true; you wouldn't. So you shake your head, swallowing.

You are a little nervous. You may not mind, but still, you
have never been filmed before, and it makes you self-
conscious.

Suddenly, he crosses the distance between you, stretching

one long arm out to reach between your legs. His touch, so
long anticipated and hungered for, sends an intense wave of
pleasure thrumming through your body. His fingers delving
just below your mass of red curls is a sight of endless
fascination. The intent here does not appear -- yet -- to be
on pleasuring you. Instead, he seems merely to be collecting
your moisture, his motions unhurried and thorough. The
pleasure you feel at his touch is purely incidental.

When he draws back, his fingers are sticky and wet with your
excretions.

He looks at his glistening digits, and you recognize the

light of satisfaction in his eyes. Rising to his knees, he
moves forward, closer to you. Your lungs cease to take in
air, and your heart races in reply. You want to pull him
near, so near that you can touch him and kiss him, but your
hands remain at your sides. He wants it this way tonight ...
and so do you.

He rubs the creamy substance that he gathered from between

your legs onto your nipples, and you close your eyes at the
exquisite sensation of his rough, wet fingers.

"Like hot fudge on ice cream," he murmurs. Then, bending

down, he sucks one taut peak into his mouth. You moan
because it is so unexpectedly hot in there, and feels so
good. You love the way his tongue knows just what to do to
make you think that your nipple is the most cherished area
on earth. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders,
clutching the smooth muscle there, giving him an impromptu
massage. He laps up the rest your essence from your breast
and moves to give the same attention to the other. Though it
is aware of what its twin has just been through, the
sensations are nevertheless, electric.

You watch him because it turns you on to see him suckling at

you like a baby, his gorgeous full lips working the pebbled
tip in his mouth. His eyes are closed in concentration, and
you know it is because he can enjoy what he's doing more
that way. The awareness that you are giving him enjoyment,
that you are letting him kiss and lick and suck at your
breast, and he's =grateful= for it, causes a new tide of
wetness to gush between your legs, replenishing the moisture
he so recently pilfered. When he's about through with his
task, he opens his eyes and your gazes meet. His eyes tell
you that he can smell your arousal, and you shiver as your
nipple leaves his mouth with a wet pop. He licks his lips,
resembling a wolf with a particularly tasty meal.

He draws back slowly, sitting on the mattress, parting his

legs. His hands rest on the covers behind him, and his pose
is deceptively casual. His head shifts to one side as he
considers you, this woman flushed with arousal, her panting
breaths exhaled from an open mouth, her nipples damp and
marked with his teeth, her fingers twitching where they are
resting on her thighs -- she wants to touch herself but
won't.

You devour his erection with your eyes, pinpointing the

object of your hunger, that strong muscle you so desperately
want to take into your body, and hope that you don't start
to drool. To help this cause, you close your mouth.
"Come fuck me," he suggests, and you hurry to comply. Your
legs protest as you free them from the uncomfortable
position they have been in for the past few minutes, but you
ignore the slight twinge of pain. There is a greater ache to
be soothed. Moving forward, you straddle him while he
watches with dark eyes lit with lust. You fling your arms
around his neck, and he abandons his casual posture, his
arms wrapping around you, his palms flat against your back.

His lips are so close to your own that you can't resist, and
soon the two of you are kissing with the ferocity of lovers
who have been apart for far too long. By your count, it has
been a few days since your last mating, and you have missed
one another. It's no wonder you can't get enough of kissing
him, of feeling your tongues push and rub and slide
together, happy to be reunited.

Somewhere in your mind, you recognize that there is an

insistent erection prodding against your stomach. Better
take care of that, you think, before it gets messy, the way
he keeps rubbing against you like that. Breaking the kiss,
you allow yourself a few moments to gulp down some air. He's
apparently superhuman and has no such weaknesses -- with the
loss of your mouth, he immediately begins to nibble on your
earlobes, your shoulders, your collarbone.

You lift up a little and then lower yourself onto him, his
hardness penetrating your soft folds easily. He's not
wearing a condom, he never does, and you gasp at the flesh-
on-flesh contact. He's distracted from all the kissing he's
doing by your current activities. You want to take it slow
because you're tight and you need time to adjust to his
size, but he is impatient and pulls you down emphatically,
making you take every inch of him in one long thrust. Now,
you and he throb in unison.

His hands move from your back to your waist as you bury your
face against his neck. You latch onto him, sucking at his
neck, taking his skin between your teeth, tasting the
saltiness there, and want desperately to swallow him whole.

He's preoccupied with fucking you, lifting you up and down

on him in slow, languid strokes until you catch his rhythm
and move on your own. When that happens, he draws away from
your vampiric impressions and lies down on the bed, his
hands threaded behind his head. You can see his perfect
torso this way, and bite your lip to keep from telling him
how beautiful he is.

You move on him, bracing your hands on his chest. You lean
forward so that his penis brushes against your aching clit
on every stroke.

"Would you masturbate in front of him?" he wants to know.

The sudden introduction of conversation throws you a bit,
but after a moment, you nod. Your hands move to your center,
the fingers of one hand parting your folds while the other
immediately goes to the bundle of nerves that is throbbing
in delight with each movement of his body in yours. You find
the demanding little button, then throw your head back as
you begin to rub around in circles, continuing to fuck him.
With every revolution, the tip of your finger brushes
against the hardness moving inside you. Unable to control
your natural responses, your orgasm explodes in short, sharp
bursts of pleasure, your movements on him sloppy. Your body
is quivering with the white-hot intensity of orgasm, and
your only thought is of making it last.

He doesn't seem to mind being used like this, and watches

you with a small smile playing on his lips. You feel too
good to be embarrassed, and don't put up a fight when he
rises, lifting you up and off of him.

His voice grates in your ear, sending a shiver down your

spine. "Would you let him fuck you from behind? Would it
turn you on to know that he can see you, but you can't see
him? Would you give that to him?" he asks, and you know
these aren't rhetorical questions. Despite the fact that
you're still trembling from your orgasm, you obediently get
onto your hands and knees, sliding forward onto your arms so
that your ass is high in the air.

"Open yourself up for me," he demands in a soft voice. "You

would for him."

Your face now lying against the bed sheets, your arms move
around to the backs of your thighs, then in between. You can
see his face with the eye that's not blocked by the sheets,
and he's watching your movements with enthrallment and
dilated pupils. You spread your folds for him, inviting him
in.

He grasps his cock with one hand and moves so that you can
feel the tip of him brushing against your entrance. He
squeezes just the head of himself inside, then drapes
himself over you. Your skin and his are both damp with
perspiration, but still it feels good to be rubbing against
him like this.

When he's positioned just as he likes, he whispers, "Ready?"

You whimper an affirmative answer, and one powerful movement
of his hips later, he's sliding all the way inside you,
opening up your vaginal walls, staking his claim.

He rains open-mouthed kisses all over your back, your

shoulders, and the nape of your neck, and the feel of his
hot, wet tongue darting out to meet your sensitized skin,
combined with the stroking of his cock inside you, makes you
moan. You think on some intellectual level that perhaps it
wasn't such a good idea to let him videotape this; it will
probably be extraordinarily embarrassing later to watch
yourself gasping and moaning, grinding against him like a
particularly feisty porn queen.

For now, however, the idea that every second of this is

being caught on film is making you hotter and wetter. The
thought that the two of you may yet view these events at a
later time, together, engorges your clitoris with blood,
bringing your arousal to an almost painful intensity. Your
nerve endings are sparking blue electricity, your heartbeat
pounds like a jackhammer in your veins. You feel alive,
desired, lustful, wanton, like a goddess. Your arms are
getting tired, so you stop holding yourself open for him --
not like he needs the guidance now, anyway -- and bring them
back around, stretching in front of you. That ache soon
subsides, and the only sensation you feel is the insistent
drag of his hardness deep inside your body.

He shifts a little, and suddenly you're crying out

repeatedly and can't seem to stop yourself. He's hit just
the right spot in there and he knows it, moving his hips
faster and faster, driving against you with purpose. You
dimly realize once more that you sound like a whore moaning
like this, but it doesn't bother you, it excites you,
because you =are= a whore, a whore for him.

Without warning his rhythm stops, and he pulls out and away.
You feel like screaming in frustration, in disappointment.

"Do you fuck him like this?" he asks, and disoriented, you
don't understand the question. You sit up and turn around.
He is on his knees, his erection straining toward you. You
notice that he is shaking slightly; he isn't quite as calm
as he'd like you to believe.

You regain your bearings and answer, "You know I do."

An indefinable emotion crosses his face. "I want you to fuck

me like you would fuck him," he states, brooking no
argument. At your nod, he asks casually, "Would you take him
in your mouth after he's been inside you?"

You give your lover a long, considering look before licking

your lips and leaning forward. He looks down, and you meet
his gaze as you take the head of his penis between your
lips. You grasp the base of his cock in one hand, and it is
slick and slippery with you. He groans and closes his eyes,
grabbing fistfuls of your hair in his hands. You begin to
lick him all over, tasting yourself on him, and the heady
mix of his flavor and yours causes your head to swim. Your
tongue seems to have a mind of its own, swirling here,
lapping there, sometimes placing itself flat against him,
other times using only the tip to taste.

You enjoy hearing his hoarse cries; you like making him
crazy for you. One of your hands comes up to cup his balls;
they're tight and firm in the cradle of your palm. You knead
them gently as you continue to suck his dick with almost
religious fervor, concentrating on the head, the most
sensitive area of his penis.

He pulls you away from him, and he leaves your mouth with a
long, wet, sliding suction. He's breathing shallowly, and
his eyes are drunk with desire. You know that he's close.

You look at him, asking silently if you can help take the
edge off of his immediate need. He can do this himself, but
you want to do it. He acquiesces, visibly trying to regain
control, and you quickly place your thumb just under the
head of his cock and your index finger on the other side,
then squeeze, holding that position for a good five seconds
while the wildness fades a little from his eyes. When he's
ready, he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away.

He runs his thumb over your lower lip, clearly intent on

something. "Now -- all the way," he requests harshly. Again,
you know what he wants, and, trying to show less eagerness
than you're feeling, merely incline your head.

He lies down on his side so that this task can be more

easily accomplished, and you follow him down, his impressive
erection right in front of your face. Taking him in your
mouth again, you give him one more swirl of your tongue,
then relax your throat. You move him slowly past the back of
your throat, and he's patient; doesn't move at all as he
allows you to keep your own pace and adjust to his girth, to
the invading foreign object. In a few moments, you have
taken all of him in, your nose pressing against the soft
skin just under his navel. Only then does he begin to move
gently, in and out, and you shut your eyes to better
concentrate on keeping your throat relaxed. You enjoy doing
this for him and don't want to have to stop if your gag
reflex kicks in.

After a few moments, he stops his movements but doesn't pull

out. He's breathing with effort, and you understand that he
is getting himself under control; he doesn't want to come
this way, even though you wouldn't mind. Finally, his
respiratory process seems to get back to a fairly even
rhythm, and he pulls out of your throat, out of your mouth.

He gets up again, pulling you to your knees -- not an easy

feat since your legs feel like jello -- and moves you so
that you're facing the bed's headboard. His hands bring
yours up until you're holding onto it, the wood smooth and
hard under your hands.

He spreads your legs apart, and as you're eager for the

second orgasm that had been postponed for oral enjoyment,
your limbs are compliant and enthusiastic to do his bidding.
You feel his erection press wetly against the crease of your
ass, and he keeps it there for just a moment, before he
moves into position to penetrate you once again. The
anticipation is torture. Fortunately, he doesn't make you
wait too long.

His hands force your hips down just as his lower body slams
upward into you, and the collision makes your teeth rattle.
If you weren't holding on to the headboard, the two of you
would have gone flying backwards.

He starts moving in a hard, fast cadence, and his hands join

yours on the headboard. The feel of him, thick, hard, and
hot inside you, is incredible, and you begin to make the
inevitable mewling sounds that tells him you're loving it.
Every time he slams into you there's a moment when your
knees rise off the bed, and you aren't sure if you'll
shatter at that point and never make it back down. The bed
creaks in protest from the workout it's getting -- and you
can certainly empathize.

The sensations build and build until your orgasm explodes

directly from the pounding at your center, shooting with
lightning speed out to every cell in your body. The force
propels you hard against him, your hands unable to keep
their purchase on the headboard. His grip is still firm,
however, so he serves as a solid wall to absorb your
flailing movements.

He doesn't wait for your body to stop shuddering before he

flips you over and hoists your legs over his shoulders.
Thrusting in short, rapid strokes, leaning so far forward
your knees practically touch your ears, he grinds his hips
hard into the backs of your thighs, trying to push himself
even deeper into you. The pressure causes his erection,
stiffening to even greater strength and size, to rub roughly
against your clit, the blessed friction creating aftershock
upon aftershock of pleasure.

"Oh GOD!" you cry, and three words are running amok in your
mind, more feeling than thought, colliding, then separating,
then fusing in a universal chaos that actually makes sense.
I love you ... you I love ... love you ... loveyouloveyou
... IloveyouIloveyouIlove. And it's possible that these
words have spilled from your heart into the open air, too
powerful to be contained, but it doesn't matter because you
want to sharethemsharethemIloveyou.

"Jesus," he groans. When he comes, he digs his knees hard

into the mattress, shoving deeply, his balls hitting your
aching flesh over and over again in time with his uneven
strokes. You feel his hot come rush into you, bathing your
inner walls, and you moan, turning your head from side to
side, grabbing his ass, willing him to keep coming. You want
every last drop he has to give.

A century later when the two of you have somewhat recovered,

he pulls out and rolls off of you. You try to contain a
grimace, even as you think about how uncomfortable you are
going to be tomorrow. He plumps up a pillow, laying it
against the headboard, and falls against it, pulling you
into his arms so that you're lying with your back on top of
him. He arranges you so that not an inch of you hangs off of
him, supporting your entire weight. You're both stickily
covered in sweat and other bodily fluids, but cleanup will
come later. For now, you just want to bask in the afterglow
of really satisfying sex.

He rubs your stomach, which you adore after a session of

lovemaking. You purr like an eager kitten in his arms, and
he chuckles into your ear.

For some reason, he then leans over and pulls open a drawer
from the nightstand next to the bed. He reaches in and pulls
out a small black box you recognize has to be from an
expensive jewelry store. Bemused, you watch as he flips it
open and takes out the small glinting object from where it's
nestled in its satin bed. If you weren't surrounded by a
cloud of post-coital bliss, you might be paying more
attention. But as it dawns on you what he's holding, you can
hardly see it because your heart is in your throat and what
you know to be tears are blocking your vision.

For a long time he just holds the ring between his thumb and
index finger, twisting it and causing the light to hit the
small cluster of diamonds from different angles. You're
mesmerized. It glitters like nothing you have ever seen, and
you wonder if you could possibly be mistaken, if your brain
is sending out the right information.

Staring straight ahead, you try not to shiver when you feel
his warm, dry lips against your ear. When he finally speaks,
his soft whisper is a deep rumble of sound that travels in a
lazy tingle from your ear to your toes. "Would you marry him
if he asked?"

"Mulder ... " You twist around because you want to see his
face, and you get a fleeting glimpse of hazel before he
closes his eyes, shutting you out. You realize he doesn't
want you to look at him, so you turn and face forward again.

"Would you?" His voice is feather-light, but delicately

layered with the weight of undertone. He holds the ring out
in front of you, and you know you have never seen anything
so beautiful in your life ... save, perhaps, the man who is
offering it to you.

The tears have traveled from your eyes to your throat (your
heart is back where it belongs and has swelled to gargantuan
proportions), and it takes you a moment to respond, although
the answer to his query wants to jump off of your tongue.
You can feel his heart thumping madly against your back, and
finally you find your voice again. "Yes, I would marry him
if he asked."

His chest expands sharply, lifting you up with a long intake

of breath. He has stopped twisting the ring in his fingers,
but says nothing for long moments.

"Okay," he says at last, his tone uneven. You swear that his
long, gentle fingers are trembling as he takes your left
hand and slips the ring onto the proper finger. "It fits
perfectly," he says, a note of pleased surprise in his
voice.

"Like it was made for me," you agree. You don't quite
believe that this is happening. "It's very pretty." You wish
your voice wouldn't quaver like that ... and while you're
making wishes, you might as well wish you hadn't uttered
such a gross understatement.

"I wanted -- " He stops, hesitating. He takes your hand,

newly ringed, and holds it in his palm, admiring the way it
looks. "It made me think of you," he mutters.

At this point, you vow that nothing will ever be able to pry
this ring from your finger. In fact, you have a good mind to
go on a chocolate cheesecake diet so that your hands will
get fat and swell up, and no amount of butter or soap will
be able to get this small piece of jewelry off of your
chubby digit.

Turning to thank him, he preempts your movement and places

his warm mouth on yours. You melt, tugging his lips in
between your teeth, then release them so that you can slide
your tongue against his, which is criminally soft.

To your disappointment, he ends the kiss, looking at you

with eyes shaded in colors of love and desire. They're also
crinkling at the corners in laughter. "Think of what your
mom will say about the engagement video," he murmurs.

"That video," you say, certain death in your voice, "will

never leave this room."

"I guess I shouldn't have had it broadcast on satellite,

then ... "

You think this is not worth a response, and turn back around
because you're getting a crick in your neck, anyway.

He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and nuzzles his nose
into the side of your neck, then caresses your stomach until
you fall asleep.

=End=

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The truth will out. I am a sap. I'd like to

thank all the nice people who have written, encouraging me
to keep writing. Months of silence from me, and this little
piece is all I have to share? I'm afraid not. :-) I'm
currently working on two stories, both of which have to be
revamped -- one due to technical problems, the other, an AU,
due to the events of Requiem (which I absolutely loved, so
I'm not =too= resentful <g> -- I want a little boy!). I
think I needed some stress relief!

The narration style was an experimentation, and critique is

happily received. My kudos goes out to all the writers who
have played with narrating in the second person.

All my gratitude goes to the following people: Brandon, who,

though we fight like cats and dogs at times, always provides
thoughtful and extremely helpful comments and critiques;
Diana, whose friendship and skills as a beta reader I have
done too long without; and Trixie, an invaluable friend and
beta reader who has taught me that sometimes, sanity is not
all it's cracked up to be. :-) She also helped me with the
title. This story is dedicated to her!!

Thank you for reading!