WetFic ~ Moonlight SwimMoonlight Swim
by Daydreamer

E-Mail: Daydream59@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Category: PWP
Spoilers: None
Keywords: MSR
Archive: Yes, please.
Feedback: Yes! Please! 

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox 
Television Network, etc. They are wonderfully brought to life by David Duchovny 
and Gillian Anderson. I will make no profit from this, and neither will Fox if 
they sue me, for I am poor and have nothing material they can profit from. 
Summary: A stressful case, a sleepless night, the sultry south, and a swimming 
pool. Oh, and a surprising lack of bathing suits. 

Moonlight Swim 01/01 

It was nearing midnight. She heard the door open and then close from the room 
next door, and sighed. He was up again. Though truth be told, it was probably 
still. She rose quickly and walked to the window, peering out in time to see him 
take a furtive look around, and then climb over the fence to the pool. She 
sighed again and went to the bathroom to retrieve her still wet bathing suit. 
She was tired, but he was more so. She'd chased him in earlier, trying to make 
him sleep, or at least rest, but perhaps that had been a mistake. Perhaps he 
needed to wear himself to exhaustion to escape the horrors of the day. Perhaps 
she did too. After all, she hadn't been sleeping when he made his covert escape. 
One last swim in the pool wouldn't hurt anyone. She needed it. He really needed 
it. It was a need upon them both -- to escape the heat and the humidity and the 
horror, and try and wash away the filth of a killer's actions that clung to each 
waking moment. 
Pinning her hair up on her head, she made a silent promise that she wouldn't get 
it wet this time. The chlorine in the pool was really strong. A few tendrils 
brushed against her neck as she tied the top of her suit. 
She stood back from the mirror for a few minutes, looking at herself. The high 
cut of the suit made her legs look longer, the top pulled her breasts up showing 
just a shadow of cleavage. But for what? He never looked at her like that. 
Though at this time of nightmares, in this place of death, something joyful and 
life-affirming would not be unwelcome. The air conditioner was blowing cold air 
on her. Goosebumps rose on her skin, making her nipples rise and press against 
the top of her suit. 
Biting her lip softly to fight the chatter of her teeth, she grabbed a towel 
from the shelf over the toilet in the bathroom, then her bag off the tabletop. 
She'd tucked her key and other items in there when she'd followed him to the 
pool earlier. Slipping out the door, she heard the automatic lock click when she 
shut it. 
A blast of humidity hit her in the face. She rubbed her eye with the heel of her 
hand and walked the short concrete walk to the stairs, going down the single 
flight. Budget motels -- another one of his eccentricities. No indoor pools or 
carpeted hallways for this man. 
She left the covered walkway and moved toward the fenced area where the large 
pool was. It was hidden in shadow, no lights in the pool, none around it. Surely 
there was a safety violation in there somewhere, but she couldn't worry about 
that. Through the heavy summer air, she could hear the sound of traffic on the 
highway, and the call of a lone nightbird, the faint whisper of crickets and 
katydids in the grass by the parking lot. 
She reached the fence he'd gone over and paused. She wasn't feeling quite up to 
that little stunt. She didn't have his nonstop adrenaline high. Her hand pulled 
on the gate, holding the padlock so it wouldn't clank against the quiet night 
sounds and betray her presence. 
She pulled a pin out of her hair and opened the lock. Swallowing a laugh of 
triumph she went inside. She stood in the shadow of a fragrant oleander bush. 
Beautiful, but deadly. Just like their killer -- a man who left pictures of 
himself by his victims. A man who only killed the beautiful, mutilating them 
until their beauty was destroyed. A man who was himself so lovely, so beautiful 
to look at, it made you want to cry to think of the depravities he committed. 
She watched him in the pool, her own beautiful, tortured man. With each stroke, 
he pushed himself harder, and as she stared, his strokes became sloppier, his 
kicks weaker, and still he pushed on. She listened to the nightbird sing, then 
grow silent as he lost his rhythm and flailed against the water, a deep, gasping 
breath cutting the night as he choked and sputtered before he resumed his steady 
reach and pull, kick, kick, kick. 
Dropping her things on a nearby chaise, she waited until he reached the far end, 
then slid into the pool. The water was cold despite the heat outside. She 
sighed, and waited, wondering what she would do, what she would say when he 
reached her. 
The only sound now was the break of the water as his arms cut through. He was 
pushing himself toward her now, almost fighting the water as he battled his way 
forward, and as she watched, he touched the edge, turned, and pushed off from 
the wall, heading away again. 
He'd never even seen her. 
She puttered in the shallow end, waiting, her head kept carefully out of the 
chlorine-laden water. The smell of the chemical mingled with the oleander, and 
somewhere in there was a leftover odor of suntan oil and sun-warmed towels. All 
in all, it was comforting on this too hot, too sad night. 
Normal. Ordinary. Sane. 
And refreshing. 
She kicked forward moving effortlessly out into the water and stopped in the 
middle of the pool. Just over the deep end line, treading the water to stay 
afloat. He'd be able to stand here. Her senses were alert to his presence. He 
had stopped now, and was clutching the far wall, panting, as he watched her 
through hooded eyes. 
Hope swelled in her breast, her heart beat a little faster. 
"Are you going to join me?" she broke the silence between them. 
"I'm not wearing my suit," he called back, his voice muffled by the darkness, by 
exhaustion and pain, and by something else. 
The moon was shining high overhead. High and full. If only he would move a bit, 
come out from under the board so she could see his face more fully. 
"Why?" 
She could just make out the minimal shrug he gave, the water rippling toward 
her. 
"It was still wet. I didn't want to put it on." 
A typical answer from a very atypical man. He'd think nothing of not eating for 
days, denying himself sleep till he was ready to drop, but then wouldn't put up 
with a minor inconvenience like a damp bathing suit. She was actually surprised 
he had told her, surprised he hadn't made a run for it when he realized she was 
here. Or tried to convince her to go, and leave him alone. Instead he was still 
watching her with the half-closed eyes, and his voice was deep and husky with 
hidden emotion. 
"It's all right," she said quietly. "Why do you need a suit? There's no one here 
but you and me." It was a challenge, that much she knew, but a challenge for 
what? And what would she do if he accepted? 
He chuckled from deep in his chest. "Do you have your suit on?" he asked. 
"I think that you already know the answer to that." She started to swim again; 
staying still in the water was making her shiver. 
"Stop," he commanded her. 
"But it's too cold for me not to move. If we're not going to swim, I'll freeze 
in the water." She turned to head back for the shallow end. "I'll have to go 
in." 
He was still huddled in the deep end, almost hunched over himself, watching, 
watching her. She was teasing him, and he knew it, but she thought perhaps 
tonight might not be a night for light banter and sexual innuendo. Too much had 
happened, too many had died for laughter and lightheartedness. 
And yet, he called again, "Stop." 
"Then come swim with me." She was moving again, still away from him. 
"All right, I'll join you." 
Too easy, she thought. Most definitely too easy. He was up to something. But if 
he was focused on her, at least he wasn't pushing himself beyond his limits in 
the water. "You will?" she called. 
"On one condition." 
She could feel his nod even though she couldn't see it. 
"Well?" she took a breath, then slapped the water with her hand, breaking the 
terrible silence that was threatening to consume them. She was treading water 
again, listening to him breathe. 
"What condition?" she demanded, alive with curiosity now. Was he teasing her? 
Was he even capable of teasing after a day like this? 
"I'll swim with you if you'll throw your suit on the deck," he finally said. 
She mulled over this for a few seconds. Of course she would do it and he knew 
it. She trusted him. He trusted her. It was how they were together. 
"But what if someone comes?" 
He laughed at her mock modesty. 
"My rules." He broke into her thoughts, bringing her back to the pool, back to 
him. 
She skinned out of the suit, and slingshotted it onto the deck, hearing it hit 
with a wet slap. 
"All ready." She started swimming again. 
She heard him climb from the pool, then looked up to see him poised for a dive, 
his hands over his head, pointed slightly down. And ... she blushed furiously. 
Was that an erection silhouetted by the moon's glow? 
He dove, gliding under the surface, deeper into the shadowy depths until she 
couldn't see him anymore. All was quiet. She held her breath, waiting for him to 
come up for air. 
A sharp tug on her ankle made her scream in surprise. Her pulse fluttered 
beneath her skin like a trapped butterfly. 
He came up in front of her, his hands floating behind her. One move and she 
would be pressed against him, her legs tangled with his as they struggled to 
keep themselves afloat. As it was, she was still treading water, but he could 
stand. 
"Trust me?" he murmured. 
She nodded. 
He took her arms and she stilled immediately, letting him hold her up, but still 
not touching him. 
"It was a bitch of a day, wasn't it, Scully?" 
She nodded again, and his hands moved from her forearms to her biceps, still 
holding her up, out of the water, and away from him. She tried to look down 
through the water to see if her eyes had played tricks on her, but they were in 
the shadows again, and all was darkness. 
"Sometimes, when you have a day like this, you just have to do something that 
proves there is goodness in the world, light in the darkness, you know?" 
She nodded a third time. He had stolen her ability to speak, captured her mind, 
enslaved her soul, all with a single touch of his fevered fingers on her chilled 
skin. She swallowed and sighed, "Mulder ..." 
He leaned in to whisper in her ear this time, his mouth at her ear, his breath 
hot against her skin. "*You* are the goodness in my world, Scully." His tongue 
moved over her neck swiftly, and she knew she tasted of chlorine and something 
else. Something that was uniquely her. Something he had never known until this 
moment. "The light in my darkness." 
She reached out and touched his chest, running her nails lightly over his tiny 
puckered nipples. He drew a sharp, shocked breath, and released her, and she 
backed away quickly. She laughed in surprise and secret delight when he grabbed 
her ankle pulling her to him. He'd had to follow her deeper into the pool to 
catch her, and he could no longer stand. He tugged her toward him, pulled her 
close against him, and she moved her arms as he moved his legs, working to keep 
them afloat. She tired, and wrapped her legs around his waist without thinking, 
relaxing into his embrace as his arms encircled her. 
He moved a little and she felt him slide against her, hot and hard against her 
warm, soft wetness. Her laugh turned to a moan. She rested her lips against his 
shoulder. He moved again. Her mouth opened, and her moan was warm against his 
skin. She felt her tongue slide over his skin, smooth and taut, and capture the 
droplets of water that beaded there. 
Gently he pushed her away, then pulled her arm. A silent signal to follow him. 
'Do you trust me?' She could hear his words in her head. 
She followed him until she saw he was standing easily. Her feet touched the 
slightly rough bottom. The water just barely covered her breasts. 
He reached out, then paused, looking at her almost as if asking permission. She 
nodded, and he gently touched one of her nipples. It drew up even tighter under 
his caressing thumb. He sought out the other with his mouth. 
She gasped at the contrast of his mouth and the water. Hot and cold. Her hands 
held tightly to his elbows as he pushed her further onto her back. 
He stopped, murmuring her name. "Scully, Scully, Scully ..." It was a chant and 
he seemed unable to stop. He pulled her gently until she was nearer to him. Her 
arms looped around his neck. He met her with demands. His tongue demanded 
entrance as it pushed through the seal of her lips. His fingers tickled her 
furred place, demanding it open beneath his touch. His breath demanded hers, and 
his heart demanded each beat be answered, and his soul demanded total surrender. 

Her fingers twined themselves in his hair. Pulling him closer still. 
He turned, pressing her against the wall. Pushing into her, pressing hot and 
hard and firm against her sensitive skin. She moaned, squeezing the walls of her 
tight entrance around him. He moved against her. Tiny pockets of air popped 
between them, the only sound in the now silent night. 
She squeezed him again, inside of her. He groaned from deep within his throat. 
She felt the vibration against her mouth. She wiggled a little, situating 
herself more comfortably against him. He groaned again and she couldn't stifle a 
small moan this time. 
"Yes," she whispered as he thrust harder into her, making her bump against the 
wall. 
He was beginning to spiral, she could tell. Despite the horrors of the day, and 
the emptiness of the night, the chill of the water, the awkward angle, he was 
soaring upward, higher, higher, and she was controlling it. He thrust into her 
again. 
"Yes, more, yes ... Yes ..." Her sighs and moans were coming out fast. Her 
breathing was turning more shallow. "Oh, yes." 
Fasterfasterfaster. She caught his eyes, anguished, and knew he wanted to slow 
down, to make it last for her, but it was beyond him. "My. Scully," he gasped. 
"My. Light." 
She was almost there. Strong spasms rocked her body against his. She was flying 
too now, joining him at the apex, striving for the crescendo, claiming the 
mountaintop for her own. She opened her eyes, finding him staring at her. 
Absorbing her victory, sharing in her success. 
She felt him pour himself into her, her muscles squeezing him tightly as he 
shuddered uncontrollably. He was like molten lava inside of her. Making her 
shiver as she indulged in it. Liking the heat and liquid fire as it filled her. 
Savoring the sight of him as he worked so hard to complete his own ascent. She 
sighed softly as the last of her spasms ended. 
One more thrust, one more burst and it would be over for him. She was beginning 
to relax around him. 
She tensed, feeling the final lunge from him. Seeing him shudder to a stop. 
Tasting the salt of his sweat where her tongue darted out to caress his 
shoulder. 
He was breathing slowly. Catching his breath. 
She felt his breath on her neck as she closed her eyes and laid her cheek 
against his shoulder. 
He slid his arms under her, walking her to the steps in the shallow end. She 
snuggled tightly against him as the night air brushed her bare skin. He walked 
to the table and retrieved her towel. Rubbed it lightly over her skin as she 
sleepily held onto him for balance. He slipped her arms into his shirt; it hung 
open to her thighs. He buttoned it enough to cover her. Not bothering with the 
towel for himself, he pulled on his jeans. Zipped them, forgoing the button. 
Her arms slid around his neck as his arms caught her up against his chest. She 
yawned and lay against him. Her bag was hanging from the crook of his elbow. 
She could hear the soft tramp of his feet against concrete steps as he climbed 
to the second floor, but her eyes stayed closed. 
She knew he liked to watch her when she was sleeping. Especially when she 
relaxed enough to lean into him, or slide down beside him. He could never be 
close enough. 
Why had she kept him at such a distance for so long? 
He unlocked the door and carried her to the bed. It had been turned down. She 
slid willingly under the covers, turning in a minute from her back to her side. 
Curling into a tight ball. 
She could feel him standing there, watching her. Hesitating. Unsure. And then 
she heard him turn to go. She could imagine the sadness on his face, the sorrow 
in his eyes, the loneliness stealing over him again, and it broke her heart. 
"Mulder?" 
He stopped, and she could feel the hope creeping out from him, a palpable thing 
that crawled over her and wrapped her in his need. 
"Stay." 
She used his own word, holding him now as tightly as he'd held her in the pool. 
There was a rustle of denim, then she felt the bed dip slightly as he slipped in 
beside her. She uncurled and pressed herself against him, sighing softly as his 
arms slid automatically around her and his head slipped onto the pillow she lay 
upon. 
"My Scully," he whispered in her hair. 
She shifted closer, murmuring back. "Always." 

End 


Back to "Swimming" 

Back to WetFic Home