Summary: We're never too old for fairy tales. Disclaimer: These characters are used without permission, but without intent of infringement. Enjoy! Copyright 1996, Shalimar shalimar@mediaone.net "Playing Goddess" 7/1/96 ******************** Geez, it was hot tonight. There'd been a breeze off the lake earlier in the evening, but it had died down. She relaxed back against a log and stared at the campfire. They certainly hadn't needed to light a fire. But it made the campsite cozy, and she liked fires. She could sit watching one for hours. It was a welcome change from the bad cable TV in the seedy hotels they usually stayed in. She glanced at her partner. And he made a very cute Boy Scout. He was toasting a marshmallow on a stick, his concentration on the job very intense. The marshmallow was just starting to brown in the heat from the coals, its milky white skin turning a creamy sienna, and starting to bubble a little. She pulled at the neck of her T-shirt. She was starting to feel a little like the marshmallow. Her bra was stuck to her body, damp beneath her breasts. Surreptitiously she tried to pull it away. Geez, it was hot tonight. "Oooo," he said. He lifted the stick and twisted it slowly, regarding the marshmallow. "Perfect." She could sit watching him for hours, too. He'd been very boyish in the supermarket. When they'd realized they would need to camp-out to be closer to tomorrow's stakeout, they'd had to buy provisions. He'd insisted on getting just the right ingredients to make something called S'mores. Something he'd made as a kid, at camp in Maine. "You need Hershey bars, Scully, just the plain ones. And graham crackers." He'd been so delighted when she'd spotted the right kind of Hershey bars. She watched as he carefully placed his marshmallow on the square of chocolate on top of the graham cracker, then placed another graham cracker on top. If she squinted a little, the rugged outlines of the man softened and she could see the boy he'd been. His face relaxed, his profile outlined by the light of the fire . . . she could imagine he was years younger. His nose would not yet be as strongly defined, his lips and chin softer. His hair, sticking up straight from the humid heat, looked boyish just the way it was. And that intense concentration as he put together his S'more. He looked fifteen. No, fourteen. She opened her eyes and let him morph back into the man. Her eyes traveled over him critically. Hmmm. He took a bite of his creation. "Mmmm," he said through a mouthful of marshmallow, chocolate and graham cracker. "Aren't you going to make one? What are you smiling at?" "Nothing. I'll just have a bite of yours." "Oh, no you don't. You'll want the whole thing." "It's so hot, Mulder. I don't feel like getting close enough to the fire to torture a marshmallow." "I'll do it." He was right. A few minutes later with the hot marshmallow exploding in her mouth and the melted chocolate running down her chin, she admitted it. She did want a whole one. "See, I told you, Scully." She nodded, her mouth too full to talk. It went down very easily. "It was delicious, Mulder, thanks." He grinned at her. "But now I'm all sticky." She licked her fingers. One by one. He sat back against his own log and considered her, his expression unreadable. He looked like he wanted to say something. She waited. He'd say it eventually. "Wanna go swimming, Scully?" "Swimming? It's the middle of the night." But even as she rationalized she glanced out at the lake. It looked inviting, cool, tempting. It looked beautiful. "There's a full moon rising, Scully. It'll be bright as day." He nodded at the heavens. A full moon? She turned around and looked into the sky. Sure enough, there it was, just sailing above the trees. It was beautiful, too. She felt a tinge of sadness. There used to be a time when she'd known when there were going to be things like full moons. She looked back at him. He was still staring at her with that steady stare. The firelight flickered across his eyes, changing his expression without his face moving at all. She felt herself being hypnotized by the sliding play of light and dark. She stared at his mouth. That mouth. "Scully? How 'bout it?" "What?" "Swimming." "I. . . ." "I'm going," he said and stood up. He held out a hand to her. "Come on." "Well. . . . " Why the hell not? "Why not?" she said. She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. "I'll just get my suit on in the tent first, " she said. She turned to go to the tent, but he didn't let go of her hand. He tugged it. His fingers were warm around hers, sticky from the marshmallow. "Who said anything about suits?" She looked up at him. He looked back. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. "Skinny dipping," she said. "Why not? It's dark out." "I thought you just said it's as bright as day." "It's both. As dark as night, as bright as day. I promise, I won't look till you're in the water." "You promise?" "If you promise not to peek at me either," he said demurely. She looked at the lake, dark beyond the trees. She could almost feel the cool water closing over her hot skin. Geez, it was hot as hell tonight. "Okay. I promise." He let go of her hand, and gave her a little smile. The Boy Scout again. She'd be safe with him. Maybe. "I'll just put away the S'more stuff while you go in. Ants . . . you know. Why are you looking at me like that?" "I'm not." She tore her gaze from his face and turned to the lake. "Okay. Don't be long," she tossed over her shoulder. She walked over to the sand at the edge of the water. She turned to check that he wasn't looking. He was staring after her. "Don't look," she called. He turned back to the fire. She slipped off her sneakers and socks. She threw him another glance. He seemed engrossed in the pick-up process. Quickly she stripped off her bike shorts, taking her panties with them. It took one more second to pull off her T-shirt. She yanked off her bra with a sigh of relief, and the next moment she was wading into the lake, the water up to her knees, then her thighs, her waist, her breasts. The cool water rose to embrace her. It felt wonderful. She made herself not look back at him. If he was looking, he was looking. She dove under and swam a few yards beneath the water, then surfaced. He was right. It was both light and dark out. Dark under the water, light above. The moon had slipped up into the sky a little more and was spreading a silver path across the black water in front of her. Lazily she stroked along the moon's path. Whichever way she turned the bright path on the lake surface stayed right in front of her. She played with the trail of light, trying to escape it. It kept reaching out to touch her. The water felt fabulous on her skin. Far better than with a suit. The water wasn't quite still, the lake itself moved as if it were alive, caressing her everywhere. Cooling her heated skin. She dipped her head under the surface, it was as if she could feel the moon's beams sparkling along the skin of her back. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone skinny dipping. She dove under again and swam a ways, then popped up to the surface, the water fizzed across her skin like champagne, and she felt as buoyant as a cork, swimming in a huge lake of champagne. She glanced at the shore. He was nowhere to be seen. He must be in the tent. Idly she flipped over on her back and floated. The air felt cool now as it moved softly across the skin of her breasts. Her nipples hardened. She arched her back and tilted her head back, then stretched her arms out into the water over her head. She'd always been able to float like this forever. It had driven her brothers crazy. She smiled, and felt the air gradually grow warm again on the front of her body, the water slowly cooling her back. Now she was feeling like she was about fourteen herself. If he wasn't around . . . Suddenly something grabbed her foot. She went under with a splash. Even as visions of Big Blue and sharks went through her head, she knew it was him. She came to the surface with a gasp. Then she went under again as her feet didn't find the bottom. A hand clasped her elbow and pulled her to the surface, it supported her there as she tread water and gasped, trying to get a gulp of air. Choking, she tried to yank her arm away but only managed to swallow more water. For a second she felt the hot brush of his body against her own, but then there was only the cool swirling water between them. She sucked in a deep breath and flicked the hair out of her eyes. His face was inches from her own. His hair slicked back from his forehead, his smile rueful and concerned. "Sorry, Scully." "I'm okay." "Sorry." "It's okay." She pulled her elbow from his hand and slipped away from him a little in the water. "It's just. . . . " "I'm sorry I dunked you." "It's not that. I don't like to be touched . . . in the water." "Why not?" "Someone held me under once, when I was a kid." "Who?" "A bully." "Sorry, Scully." "Forget it. You didn't know." She swam a little way away from him. "This was a great idea. The water feels wonderful." "Yeah, it does." He swam after her, keeping even with her. "And better without a suit, don't you think?" "Yeah." Definitely. "Did you know, Mulder, that federal law doesn't consider nudity in federal parks a crime?" "Darn. Now we can't arrest each other." She smiled. Leisurely they stroked a little way out into the lake. Following the light from the full moon. "Did you know, Scully, that the moon controls the tides? And the full moon makes the high tide even higher." She glanced up at the moon. Impossibly full, shining down on them. "I guess I knew that, Mulder. But that's in the oceans." "True, but all water is affected by the gravitational pull of the full moon. Even lakes. Feel it? Feel how the water feels alive?" Scully felt the water slipping smoothly along her naked skin, tickling her softly in all sorts of fun places. "Yes . . . I guess. I definitely . . . do feel something." "And since our bodies are mostly water, the moon affects them, too." She stopped. Treading water, she looked at him. "The moon's gravity pulls our blood, it calls to it, making it rise and flood through our veins, through our bodies, like the tide. Making our bodies full." She wasn't sure if he was spinning her a yarn or not. He stopped, too, and tread water, looking at her. His eyes were shadowed, she couldn't read them, and she couldn't quite read his voice. "It's high tide right now, Scully. Can't you feel it? Can't you feel it surging . . . softly? The moon pulling at your blood?" She shut her eyes and concentrated. "You can feel it, can't you, Scully?. Throbbing through your veins. Do you feel it in your pulse? In your shoulders? In your arms? In your legs?" His voice was soothing, caressing, like the water. Suddenly she could feel her blood and it *was* surging through her body. It was pounding, throbbing. Her body did feel alive, her veins full. Surely what he was saying couldn't be true. "Mulder." Her voice came out sounding a little more breathless than she'd meant it to. "I'm a doctor. I would have learned that in medical school." "Some things . . ." Now she could hear a smile in his voice. "You have to learn from life. Feel it? Feel your blood?" He reached a hand through the water and brushed his fingertips lightly along her shoulder. Her eyes flew open. She let out a little gasp and shivered. "Yes," she whispered. His fingertips trailed down the length of her arm. She shivered again. His hand trailed back up her arm and up to her chin. Languidly, caressing her, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. "Feel it here, in your arms? In your neck? Feel it, Scully?" "Mulder . . . " she whispered. "Yeah?" "What are you doing?" "Telling you about the full moon and high tides. Sorry, I didn't mean to touch you." "Oh . . . " She sighed as his hand left her face and he went back to treading water. She looked up at the moon, if she didn't know better, she could imagine she could feel its reflected warmth on her skin. She turned back to him. He was watching her. "What else about the full moon, Mulder?" "Well," he paused for a moment, thinking. "There's the Moon Goddess." "What?" "The full moon has her own Moon Goddess." "The moon is a she?" "Of course the moon is a she, Scully." "And she has a Goddess?" "Yes-- I think we're over a sandbar, Scully. There, now I can touch." She reached for the sand with her toes. "I can't." "I'll hold you up. Come here, put your hands on my shoulders and rest for a minute." She looked back at the shore, they were several hundred yards from the beach. He reached out for her hand and pulled her to him. She gave a little gasp as her skin came into contact with his. She tried to pull back. He pulled her closer. "It's just me, Scully. I'll never hurt you. Wrap your arms around me. I'll hold you." She looked into his eyes. He was absolutely serious. She floated against him and hesitatingly put her hands on his shoulders. Her body settled against his chest and his arms came around her to lift her against him. Suddenly his skin was burning hers through the water. It felt amazing against the parts she usually kept covered. The points of her flesh touching him were on fire, the other places, lapped only by the living water, cool and bereft. "Do you want to hear the rest?" "What . . . ? The rest of what, Mulder?" "About the Moon Goddess." "Oh, yeah. Oh, sure." "When there was a full moon, the Goddess would swim out into the ocean, into the night." "Why?" "Just because it felt good, and because she was looking for her Sylkie." "Her Sylkie? You mean, one of those half-man, half-seal sea creatures?" "Yeah, Scully. So you know about them?" He smiled. "Those are the ones. She'd swim out looking for her own. There was one in particular. She had a thing for him." His hands were moving softly along the skin of her arms, her back. He touched her with the lightest of touches, so lightly that it felt like fishes nibbling at her skin. Fishes with electric lips. She shivered. "Are you cold?" He pulled her close against his chest. "No. Mulder, you're making this up." "No, I'm not. It's an old Jewish-Celtic legend my mother told me." "Oh. Well. I see. Go on, go on." Her hand seemed to move of its own accord up to his shoulder. Her fingers traced the line of his collarbone. She pressed her fingertips against his skin. She thought she could feel his blood flooding through him, too. Pulsing against the pads of her fingers. "Scully. . . ." He looked down at her, his eyes dark. "I can't wait to hear the rest, Mulder." "Then . . . when she finds her Sylkie, out in the ocean, in the bright, full moonlight. Do you know what she has to do?" "No, what?" "She has to seduce him. To make the full moon happy." "Seduce him? To make the full moon happy. Why would seducing the Sylkie make the full moon happy?" "Because the full moon watches over fertility and life and love . . . and she likes to see the creatures of the earth mate. It's what she does. She can't help it. She likes to watch." How old was Mulder when his mother was telling him these stories? "The full moon likes to watch the creatures of the earth mate-- uhhh," she gasped as one of his hands closed over her breast. "Mulder?" "Your breasts are floating, Scully," his tone was curious, bordering on conversational. "Haven't you ever skinny dipped with a woman before?" "No." "Surely in those. . . ?" "No." Now why did that thought suddenly make her blood course through her body? "Breasts float, Mulder. So. . . ." she tried to remember the thread of the story. "The Moon Goddess seduces the Sylkie, to make the full moon happy." He was still cupping her breast gently, rubbing the nipple, feeling it almost scientifically, it hardened beneath his fingers, sending little stabs of current down to tickle her between her legs. "Yes." "And he has to be seduced? He doesn't want to make love to the Goddess?" "He takes a little convincing." "Why?" There was a little pause. "He's afraid. . . . " "He's afraid of her?" "He's afraid of having his heart broken. He's afraid the moon goddess will seduce him and then leave him all alone in the cold sea." "She wouldn't do that, would she?" Her hands drifted, up to follow the line of his shoulders, down to run along his chest. She pressed her hand over his heart, she could feel it beating hard beneath her palm. "Well, she is a busy Goddess." "Busy? Doing what?" "Oh. Things. Sensible things. Goddess things." "Sensible things? Hmmm. --Oh." He shifted his grip on her slightly so he could run his hand down her thigh. The burning area between her legs was suddenly pressing hard against his warm hip. "What does she want to do?" she asked. "Does she have to seduce him just to please the moon? Or does she have feelings for the Sylkie?" "I think . . . she really likes the Sylkie." Somehow, he had moved her around so she was holding him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs wrapped around his body. Their hands were all over each other, sliding softly, memorizing each other's hot skin in the cool probing, lapping water. "But you're not sure." "No. . . . You see, he has to decide -- to stay in the sea, or come onto the land. He loves her. But he can't do both." "He loves the Goddess?" "Terribly." "He does?" "Beyond reason." He does . . . ? "And to be with her, he has to give up the sea?" Mulder paused, and shifted her slightly, Scully was amazed to feel his erection pushing insistently between her legs. How had they gotten to this point so quickly? They were just talking . . . weren't they? Her skin was alive against his, her blood was alive inside her, the water was alive around them. The sensation was incredible. The cool water sliding past her thighs. His burning hard-on pressed against her, her breasts tingling against his chest. In a second her lips would open to him and he'd just slide in. She gave a soft little sigh. It was inevitable. It had always been inevitable. "He can't," he said. His mouth was two inches from her own. "He can't?" Her voice was breathless, almost a gasp. "No." "The Sylkie? He can't what? Why not?" "He can't give up the sea." "He can't? But, Mulder. . . ." She gave a little sigh and adjusted herself against him. "Why does he think that the Moon Goddess wants him to give up the sea? It doesn't seem like she would want that." "It doesn't?" His voice sounded surprised. "No, I think she loves him for himself, what he is, what he does. She loves him for what he loves." His hands had been burning slowly up the skin of her back, setting her on fire. They stopped. "She does? She loves him?" "Yes. I'm sure of it. She loves him completely." He gave a little push and slipped inside her. She let out a moan. "Mulder. . . . I'm not on anything. I'm not using anything. . . . We can't." He cupped her bottom with both hands and thrust into her. Filling her. At last. It felt amazing, it felt. . . fantastic. "Do you want me to stop?" "No. Yes. No. I want it, too. Oh, God. But we shouldn't. Should we? Mulder. . . . I--" He pushed his hips against hers. "Ohhh. . . . Mulder. . . ." "I'll marry you if I get you pregnant." Thrust. "Mulder. . . . You can't be serious." "I am." Thrust. "Mulder. . . . " She tilted her head back and wrapped her legs more tightly around him. She shut her eyes. He felt so good. She could still see the stars through her closed eyelids. Still see the moon. "Oh, Mulder. . . ." "I'll marry you if you don't get pregnant." Thrust. "Marry me." "Mulder. . . . You've never even kissed me. We've never even talked about this. And now. . . this. I can't believe we're doing this and we've never even kissed." She stopped talking, she was too breathless to talk. Her head sunk backward until it was touching the water. She felt her hair spread out in the water around her head. It tickled her shoulders. It was alive, too. Her blood was on fire as it slid through her veins, his skin burned against hers. "I've kissed you--" Thrust. "--a thousand times. I've kissed you- -" Thrust. "--a hundred thousand times." "What? When?" She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was staring at her. His eyes half closed, the iris indistinguishable from the pupil -- all black. "Every time I look at your mouth." Thrust. "I kiss you. Every time someone else looks at your mouth." Thrust. "I kiss you. Every morning when you come to work." Thrust. "I kiss you." Thrust. "Every evening. When we say good-bye." Thrust. "I kiss you." "Oh." Thrust. "Oh." "I'm kissing you all the time. Marry me, Scully. I mean it." "Yesss -- ahhh." "Yes?" "Yesssss. Yes. Oh, God. Oh, Mulder." She looked up at the moon, at the stars, at the sky. She looked back at him, he was watching her, concentrating on her as their hips moved together. That was what was so sexy about him, goddamnit. He always concentrated on her. His image was coming apart now, covered with a million tiny sparkles of light, the drops of water on his hair, his face, the skin of his neck, his shoulders, all covered with tiny bright bubbles. No, it was her who was coming apart. She arched her head back and caught sight of the moon. Are you happy? Moon? Your creatures are mating. She let out a gasp and her fingers dug into the skin of his neck as she came. Hard against him. Her cry echoed across the lake in the night. And she held on tightly to him, and watched his face as he concentrated on loving her, this face she'd never seen before, the boy, the man, and now the lover, all rolled into one. His expression intense, fierce, gentle. Then he gathered her to him and he came, too. With a muffled groan against her hair, he gave a couple more convulsive thrusts, till he just stood, trembling slightly and held her clasped lightly against his chest. His eyes shut. The water rocked around them in little waves. Glittering in the moonlight. Idly she watched his face as their breathing slowed. The water on his skin glowed iridescent. "Did we drown?" he asked finally. He opened his eyes, she just looked at him. "Sylkies can't drown," she said. She smiled. He smiled back. "Good. Oh, sorry. I forgot you don't like to be touched in the water." He pretended to start to let her go. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed against him again with her hips. Her breasts were crushed against his chest. "I think I'm cured." He shut his eyes again and pulled her tight against him for a hug. She hugged him back, hard. Her body felt incredible against his, she rubbed it along his slowly. Her legs were still wrapped around him. They were still joined. The water still fizzled cooly against her shoulders, her breasts. She looked out over the water. The silver path from the full moon still sparkled directly to them. "I wonder," he said slowly. "What happens after she seduces the Sylkie?" She looked at his face. His eyes were still closed. "You don't know the end of the story?" she asked. He opened his eyes and looked at her. His face was lit only in whites and darks. His eyes black. His expression closed. Surely he wasn't shy about what had just happened? She examined his face. . . . He was. "Well. . . ." She'd help him out. "The Goddess -- she likes it in the sea with the Sylkie. She's willing to give up the land -- if it makes him happy." "Really?" "She wants what he wants. If she wants to give up playing Goddess and come be with him and love him and live in the sea, she will. After all, it's where she's been for the last four years." "She's been there the whole time?" "Of course she's been there. Since day one." "You know, he doesn't really want her to give up playing Goddess." "He doesn't?" "No. He likes it." She was silent for a moment. "You don't think she'd really stop being a Goddess if she lived with him in the sea?" "No." He was silent. "Mulder." "What?" She ran her fingertips lightly down the line of his jaw, across his full bottom lip. "If the Sylkie only said what he said in a moment of passion . . . she'll let him off the hook." His arms tightened around her. He glanced up at the moon then whispered close to her ear. "I don't think these traditional folk tales can apply to modern relationships." "Mulder." He bent his head and traced the waterline along her breast with one finger, his face serious. Her nipple hardened against his finger tip. He pinched it. She pushed her fingers into his hair and tilted his face up to look at her. "Mulder." "I meant what I said," he said. "-- what I asked. It's just -- you didn't really answer me." "I didn't?" "Well, you said 'Yes' about fifty times . . . but. . . ." "Yes." She smiled. "Yes?" "Yes." He threw back his head and laughed, the water sparkled in his hair, his teeth were white in the shadows of his face. She just looked at him for a moment, then laughed with him. And then they were quiet, just looking at each other, in the bright, wet darkness. "The full moon," he said softly, his voice holding the slightest tinge of amazement. His hands started to move gently over her skin again.. "Oh, the moon?" she said, her hands moving across his back. She could still feel the blood flowing under his warm skin. "The moon's happy. They love each other." She smiled. "They mated. It's what the moon wanted all along." "For them to love each other, and have babies." "Have babies?" She threw a startled glance at the moon. "Geez, Mulder. . . ." She rubbed her cheek against his wet one, feeling his stubble, feeling his sideburn rasp against her skin. She concentrated on the area between her legs. She felt full, sated. But hopefully not pregnant. Although. . . maybe it was inevitable, too. She looked up again at the round, full, magnetic brilliance of the moon. Who'd have thought it? She looked back at his eyes. He was watching her intently. She slid her lips along his cheek. Just keeping her mouth from touching his, she gently teased his chin with her own. "But what about kissing?" he whispered. "Do they ever kiss?" "They do," she whispered back, against the corner of his mouth. She stuck out her tongue and tasted his skin. Chocolate. "But they save it till after they get married." "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah." "Wanna bet?" Fin.