Straight on 'Til Morning
by Brandon D. Ray

=========
Prologue
=========

Somehow, I always knew it would come to this.

I'm not sure when I became aware of it.  Surely that day when I walked
into the basement office for the first time, the connection was not
already there.  That entire first year we were just work partners,
thrown together against our own wishes, each pursuing our own goals.  We
were like children, really -- gay and innocent, and perhaps a little
heartless.

But all that has changed, and now we are children no more.  We have been
through too much; we have seen and heard and done too much.  We have
finally grown up, as all children must, and now, tonight, we are taking
the final step to adulthood.

Mulder is poised above me now, his body strong and warm and masculine. 
His weight is pressing me down into the mattress, and the feel of his
skin against mine electrifies me.  All of my senses are alive tonight --
touch, taste, hearing, vision, scent -- and all of them are contributing
to the arousal that is boiling within me.

I lift my gaze to meet my partner's, and I shudder in anticipation at
what I see there.  His eyes are dark with passion, and the expression on
his face is naked and primitive with longing and need -- longing and
need for me.  Just for me.  Only for me.  I feel my own desire surge as
I recognize the emotions on his face.  I 've been waiting all my life
for a man to look at me this way, and the knowledge that it's finally
happening is nothing short of intoxicating.

I shift my hips restlessly, impatiently, trying to signal with my body
that I want him as much as he wants me.  A smile of acknowledgement tugs
at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes darken even further as he
leans down to capture my lips with his.

Our tongues flirt with one another, exchanging intimate caresses, and I
tighten my arms around his shoulders, trying to draw him closer,
closer.  Mulder moves against me, pressing the firm, unyielding planes
of his chest against my breasts -- and then his erection brushes my
center, and I moan into his mouth.

Instinctively, I lift my legs to embrace his hips, tilting my pelvis in
preparation for his entry.  I am completely open and vulnerable, and I
am so, so ready.  Truth be told, I've been ready for years, but now I'm
finally admitting it, to Mulder and to myself.

Thank God.

With one arm I continue to hang on to Mulder, holding him as tightly and
as closely as I possibly can.  With the other I reluctantly let go, and
slip my hand down between us.  The space between our bodies is hot and
tight and slick with perspiration, and my seeking fingers slide easily
downwards, downwards, downwards ....

At last, I reach my goal.  Mulder's cock is hot and hard and a little
rough, like raw silk, and as I take it lightly in my hand he breaks the
kiss and gasps his pleasure.  Despite the urgency we both are feeling, I
can't resist the urge to take a moment to explore, and I focus my gaze
once again on his face as I let my fingers trail slowly up and down his
shaft.

And dear God, what a vision he presents.  His eyes are closed, and his
head is tilted back, with his mouth hanging open.  His breath is now
coming in short, sharp gasps, and as I reach the very tip of his cock
and gently squeeze it, he whimpers, very, very softly.

It's time to do this.

Once again I lightly grip my partner's erection and tug gently on it. 
He immediately gets the message and lowers his hips, even as I'm raising
mine to meet him.  There's a moment of breathless anticipation, and
then, finally, I feel the head of his cock lightly touch my entrance.

I promised myself I would watch Mulder's face at this moment, but I find
that I cannot.  I want to see his expression; I want to drink in the
emotions I know I would find there.  But it's just too much, my senses
are overloaded, and as he slowly, slowly slips inside me, I find that my
eyes have drifted shut.

Gradually he moves downward and inward, stretching me and filling me,
sending new waves of pleasure racing outwards through my body.  Finally,
he's all the way inside, and for just a moment we pause, completely and
irrevocably joined together -- partners in every sense of the word, at
long, long last.  I feel tears burning in my eyes, and I bury my face
against Mulder's strong, hard shoulder as I try to adjust to the
feelings that are bubbling and boiling around inside me.

I want this; there is no doubt in my mind that I want this.  I have had
lovers before; men I loved and cared about.  But never have I
experienced the intensity I'm feeling at this moment.  Never before has
it seemed so perfect and essential.  I really do feel as if I'm finally
leaving childhood behind, and that the past thirty-five years have just
been preparation for this moment.

Then Mulder begins to move, drawing slowly out of me with the same
deliberation with which he entered.  Finally, only the head remains, and
he pauses -- and a moment later he's easing back down and in, filling
all my empty places once again.

At last he's all the way inside again, and somehow it's even more
fulfilling and satisfying than it was the first time.  My face is now
pressing into the hollow of Mulder's neck, and I inhale deeply, filling
my lungs with his scent as he begins to pull back for another stroke.

This time his withdrawal is a little quicker, the pause at the top a
little briefer, the downward thrust a little harder.  He does it again,
and again, getting faster and deeper and stronger with each new stroke. 
And my hips are now arching to meet his, my fingernails are digging into
his back, and my teeth are nipping at the hard outline of his collarbone.

We are surrounded by the soft sounds of our lovemaking:  grunts and
moans and happy cries of pleasure.  The mingled scent of our mutual
arousal pervades the room, filling my lungs and nostrils, reminding me
with every indrawn breath of why we're here, and who we are.

Mulder's pace continues to increase, and from the frantic neediness of
his thrusts I think he must be almost there already.  Unfortunately,
although my own arousal still burns hot within me, this is not a good
position for me, and I'm nowhere close to climax.

For a moment I'm unsure what to do.  There are other methods -- other
positions -- that work better and are more pleasureable for me.  But
Mulder is obviously so very near to his own orgasm, and this is our
first time, and I'm feeling a little tentative about asserting my own
wants and needs.

And besides, I remind myself, he's already given me what I most need, at
least for tonight.  He's given me his trust and his commitment -- and,
yes, his love, although neither of us has actually used that word as
yet.  Just having Mulder inside me, knowing that it's him, is making
this experience more profoundly intimate and emotional than any act of
love has ever been for me.

Mulder is slamming into me, now, and I'm throwing my hips up to meet his
thrusts.  His breath is hot and moist against my ear, and with each
stroke he makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a moan -- and I
suddenly realize that it's my name he's trying to say, over and over and
over, and that causes yet another wave of love to go coursing through
me.  This is for me; he's giving it all to me ....

Then abruptly he shudders, and his body bucks against mine once, twice,
three times.  He inhales sharply, then finally empties himself into me
with a low, guttural groan.

For a minute or two I lie perfectly still, my arms and legs still
wrapped around my partner, his spent cock resting inside me.  His body
shudders intermittently as he gradually recovers from his orgasm, and
I'm gently stroking his back and making soft, soothing sounds into his ear.

Gradually, he seems to settle.  The aftershocks die down, and his entire
body starts to relax.  I don't know exactly what he's thinking, but even
as I'm petting him and cuddling him, I'm preparing a response in my mind
for the apology which he will almost inevitably offer.

I've been in this situation before, of course; I suspect that most women
have.  And in all honesty, when the man is selfish about it, and just
rolls over and goes to sleep, oblivious to the fact that I did not reach
climax, I do find it irritating.  That was one of Jack's more annoying
habits.

But this isn't Jack; this is Mulder.  And Mulder won't be selfish; I
know him well enough to know that it just isn't in him to be that
thoughtless.  If anything, he will be overly apologetic, and I may have
to soothe and reassure him before he finally accepts the fact of my
contentment.

I'm drawn from this introspection as my partner's body begins to shake
again.  For a few seconds I'm confused.  This can't be another
aftershock; it's been too long, and he'd become too still and calm.  But
in another instant I realize what's going on.

He's crying.

Mulder is crying.

I don't know what to make of this.  He can't be this upset over the
matter of my orgasm; that's a bit much, even for Mulder.  I had expected
embarrassment; perhaps a misplaced sense of inadequacy.  But not this.

A chill passes over me as it dawns on me that there could be other
reasons for this reaction.  Automatically I tighten my arms around him,
seeking the security and reassurance of his body's warmth even as my
thoughts are turning to darker places.

This was not a mistake, I tell myself firmly.  And Mulder is not going
to lift his head off my shoulder in a few seconds or minutes and tell me
we were wrong to do this, and that everything has to go back to the way
it was.  We've gone through too much to get to this point, and it was so
very right.  We both need this; we both need each other.  And I, for
one, am not going to give it up without a fight.

I find that my hands have once again started stroking Mulder's back,
gently touching and caressing him, trying to ground him.  His shoulders
continue to shake in soundless grief, but I still don't understand why. 
I want to ask him, but at the same time I'm afraid to ask him, because I
don't know if I will like the answer.  And so I continue to offer silent
comfort, trying to pour all the love and commitment I feel for this man
into my touch.  Trying to make him understand that whatever it is that's
upset him, we can face it, and overcome it.

Together, we can do anything.

Slowly, so very, very slowly, he begins to wind down.  His quiet sobbing
ceases, and I reluctantly allow him, finally, to withdraw from my body. 
We wind up curled together in the middle of the bed, Mulder lying on his
back, my head resting on his shoulder.  I have one arm stretched
possessively across his chest, and the corresponding leg is twined with
one of his.  I can feel, rather than hear, his heartbeat.

I still can't bring myself to speak, though.  The fear engendered by
Mulder's unexplained outpouring of grief has drained me, and I find that
some of my walls have gone up, despite my best intentions.  I do take
reassurance from his continued presence, and the fact that he allowed me
to comfort him, and continues to permit this physical closeness.  But
past this point, I cannot go -- not right now, at any rate.

His breathing finally steadies, and begins to deepen, and I realize that
he's drifting off to sleep at last.  This is a good thing, I tell
myself.  Falling asleep after an emotional catharsis can be cleansing,
giving your mind time to adjust to whatever was upsetting you, so that
you can deal with it when you wake up.  And again, his willingness to
drop off into slumber in my bed, in my arms, helps me to fight off my
own worries and insecurities.

It will be okay, I think drowsily.  Mulder and I will be okay, and when
we wake up in the morning, we'll fix whatever it is that's bothering
him.  I slip my arm a farther across his chest, and press myself a
little closer to his warmth.  I'm mildly bemused at how easy this is, at
how natural it seems for me to follow Mulder into the land of dreams.

But my last conscious thought is that I shouldn't really be surprised. 
I'd follow this man anywhere.

================END PROLOGUE================