Chapter Four:


Mulder

The Mesh
8:15 p.m.

 

I watched them as they made their way onto the dance floor. Their bodies were pressed against each other, merging into one as they moved to the music. They were the kindred. I'd seen it before. Twice.

The first time was when Scully was abducted. She'd been missing for weeks, and with each day that passed, I felt the sinking fear that I'd never see her again. Loneliness consumed me, as did despair. I tried to fill the void with Kristen, the self-proclaimed vampire. But it was just an empty substitute for Scully.

The second time was in Texas, when I staked one of them-a kid. It was a messy case, we had Skinner on our ass the whole time. But I was right, he was a vampire. Even Scully wasn't immune to their charm, she was smitten with that buck-toothed Sheriff. Mention his name today and she'll still deny it. She had that same hazy expression the whole case that was on her face right now. I suspected Aylebourne did that to her. Perhaps Jessica had tried it with me, but I was a believer. I already knew the truth.

"Enjoy your dance?" I said, as she settled back down. She was quiet for a bit, then focused back on me.

"I suppose," she said, fingering her cross abstractly. I'd seen him touch her. It surprised me she let him. "What did you find out?"

"They aren't what they appear to be, Scully," I started, carefully watching her reaction. "Remember that case in Texas? The kid...the Sheriff...the pizza?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Mulder..."

"He just put the whammy on you, Scully," I said, gesturing to the Aylebournes. "Nosferatu over there. And his wife, she knows about us."

"What does she know?"

"They have a heightened sense of smell. She could sense you on me," I said quietly.

Scully shook her head. "She was just messing with you Mulder. No one could know that. We've been careful."

I think she was trying to convince herself that I was wrong. It was much easier admitting that than what she already suspected.

"You saw their eyes. The apartment? How it's sealed from the daylight. And despite whatever scientific explanations you can offer, I can think of only one thing that could drain those people like that," I continued. "We've both seen it before. Don't tell me it hasn't crossed your mind."

"So I suppose you're saying that they're responsible for the kidnappings...because you believe they are vampires," Scully said, narrowing her eyes at me.

"No," I replied. "I just suspect that Aylebourne might know more than what he's letting on."

"Well, if he does...he's not talking. And unfortunately, he's not really obligated to," she said, staring out at them. I knew what she was thinking. I had cast doubt in her mind to this normal couple.

"What did you talk about...on the dance floor?" I asked, curiosity consuming me.

Scully was quiet for a moment, as if she was struggling to remember things that only happened minutes ago. "Faith."

"Faith?" I asked, not expecting that answer.

"He talked about faith. How you can have faith in someone," she replied. "Trusting your heart. I suspected he was talking about Jessica. What did you talk about?"

"I told her I knew what she was," I said, leaning a little closer to Scully. "She didn't deny it."

"You enjoy her openness. Her freedom of...expression," Scully said, studying me. A quality she didn't always have with me. Something she was just starting to explore in our relationship. "I think that turns you on."

"Well, I do have a fondness for redheads," I said, finger reaching carefully across to brush a tiny lock out of her eyes. "One in particular."

Scully breath quickened as she moved away from me. Even such a tiny display of public affection could worry her. Especially when we were working.

"I think we'd better go," she said, getting up to leave. "We shouldn't waste anymore of this couple's time. They've been very tolerant so far."

Scully walked ahead of me, maintaining professional distance. She tapped Aylebourne on the shoulder.

"I'd let you cut in, but I'm enjoying this far too much," he said, indicating the tender way he held his wife. She lifted her head off his shoulder and smiled at me. Provokingly.

"We must be going," Scully said curtly. "I thank you for your offer of dinner, but we must be leaving."

"Thank you for the dance," he said politely. "I don't suppose we'll be meeting again."

Scully shook her head, but smiled slightly. "If we have anymore questions, we will call. Good night, Mr. Aylebourne. Mrs. Aylebourne."

Scully turned on her heel and started to leave.

I stared at Aylebourne, with a small grin as well. "If you can assist us in any way, please call."

"Agent Mulder?" asked Jessica.

"Yes?" I said, turning back around.

"Enjoy the night," she said quietly, holding her husband closer.

****

Scully had the keys out before I did and she climbed into the driver's seat. I couldn't tell if she was angry or what with me. We had walked in silence back to the car, which with Scully could be louder than words.

"You don't believe me," I said quietly as she drove down the streets of downtown Chicago. She turned onto Lake Shore Drive.

"No," she said, keeping her eyes on the road.

I eased back into the seat. There was never enough legroom for me in these damn rental cars. I rested my head to the side.

"But you did before. You know vampires exist," I pressed.

She took a deep breath and kept driving. "I may not always agree with you, Mulder. But Aylebourne was right about one thing."

"What's that?" I asked, confused by her train of thought.

"Faith. I do have faith in someone," she said, looking over at me. "Do you trust me, Mulder?"

I laughed at the irony of the question. "Of course I do."

"Good," she said. And kept on driving.

We were heading back to the hotel. I could see the sign up ahead. Days Inn sparkled against the landscape. I looked out at the water, thinking how much nicer it all looked from the Hancock Center. Just two days ago.

Suddenly, I noticed she had taken a left turn.

"Scully," I said, sitting up. "You weren't supposed to turn here. The hotel was on Lake Shore Drive, the street you were just on."

"I know," she replied. "We're not going there."

I felt my heart quicken. "We're not?"

"No," she said, looking at me. She smiled.

****

Swissotel Chicago
9:45 p.m.


"Where are we going?" I asked as we stepped on the elevator. She made me wait in the lobby while she went to the front desk. She hit the 43rd button. The top floor.

"Do you trust me?" she asked again, leaning back against the walls of the elevator.

There was something settling in the air between us. A rush of danger? Of anticipation? She had the upper hand here. She was in control of the situation. I felt my heart beating faster, blood raced to other parts of my body. Scully's eyes stared into mine, yet we stood perfectly still. As if waiting.

The elevator door opened to the 43rd floor. The hallway was dark, except for a few dim lights. She stepped out into the hallway, then turned around.

"Are you coming?" she asked huskily.

"Now, you know better than to phrase it like that," I replied.

I let her walk ahead, her slim form moving with grace down the hallway. To room 4354. I smiled at the number while she swiped the cardkey. I pressed my palm against the door, by her head and leaned against it. Breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin.

"It's not a coincidence this room has the number 54 in it, is it?" I asked.

I'm eidetic. I remember things with perfect clarity. Sometimes, it's curse. But with Scully, it's a blessing. Because I remember all of our encounters. Every moan, every touch, every detail. In my own mind, I just started referring to them by number. But eventually, Scully found out. Number 53 was in the bathtub last night, so now we were on 54. I'm preserving the time, the place and the circumstance of our lovemaking. I want it to keep getting better and better. The more I learn about her, the more I can please her. Bring her something beautiful and meaningful in our chaotic and fucked up lives.

And I never want to forget one second with her. Just in case...

Scully turned around, leaning into me. Her mouth was close to mine in the darkness. Tempting me to kiss those full lips.

"For the record...we were never here," she breathed, hands stroking my lapel. "We're not on assignment. We're not on vacation. For right now, we don't exist anywhere else except behind this door. And I don't want to talk about this case, this city, vampires or victims. No FBI. Nothing. Agreed?"

"Agreed," I replied. I could practically taste her on my mouth already.

I was getting harder, I shifted a bit as I stood closer to her. Sheer force of will kept me from moving, when all I wanted to do was...

"Mulder," she said, interrupting my thoughts. Which was probably a good thing. "Let's get out of this hallway. There's something I want to show you."

I truly was the luckiest son of a bitch in the entire goddamned world.

Scully stepped inside the room and shut the door behind me, locking it carefully. She turned around, and reached for me, her arms wrapping around my neck. She drew me into a long kiss, her tongue coaxing my lips apart. My hand roamed freely down her back, across her buttocks. I wanted her out of this damn suit. Out of all it represents to me.

"Do you remember what you said the other night?" she whispered between kisses.

"That I wish we were telepathic and could have mind sex during Skinner's boring lectures?" I mused, thinking back to that stupid comment.

"No," she replied, stepping away from me. Out of my arms.

She walked over to the sliding glass doors of the balcony, drawing back the curtain. Moonlight shone in, casting shadows of dark blues in the room. She stepping in front of the glass, her back pressed against it invitingly. I could see her chest heaving slightly. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath. You could see the city behind her, a million lights sparkling everywhere. I walked towards her very slowly, taking off my suit coat and throwing it on the bed. Next was my tie. I fought it out of the knot and pulled it off. She just kept watching me, licking her lower lip. Her palms were flat against the glass, her legs slightly apart.

"I remember Scully," I said. My hands reached out and started to unbutton her blazer. God I wanted her.

"Tell me again," she whispered, mouth moving dangerously close to mine.

Her skin was flushed already, anticipating the sex. Seeking the love I was so willing to give. I kissed her gently on the mouth, then moved my lips across her cheek.

"I'd love to make love right here," I whispered in her left ear. "Above the city."

Scully closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. "What are you waiting for?"

****

Peter

The Mesh
8:45 p.m.


We watched as the Agents quickly headed out the door of the club.

"They're an odd couple."

I looked down at Jessie, who was still leaning against me as we danced. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, it's so obvious that they love each other..."

"Ah," I said, cutting her off. "It's obvious to us that they love each other. Remember, we can sense things that most mortals cannot."

"Still, did you see the way he touched her? The way he brushed her hair back? There was such love in that one motion and yet, she seems almost afraid of it."

"Well, think about it," I said. "What do you think would be the first thing the FBI would do if they found out Agents Mulder and Scully were lovers?"

She nodded her understanding. "They'd probably split them up."

"So now you see why they would keep their relationship such a closely guarded secret?"

She sighed and nodded. "That must be tough for them."

I nodded. In a way, Jessie and I knew what they were going through. She and I tried hard to maintain some level of "normalcy" in our lives; to be an "ordinary" couple. In much the way I suspected Agents Mulder and Scully wanted to be. That was probably why they had been registered at the Sheraton under assumed names. They just wanted some time together; some little bit of that normalcy that their secret relationship didn't permit them.

In many ways, we had succeeded in that. But still, it was hard. In places like this, blood hunger tugged at us. The need to feed was always present, reminding us of exactly what we were. I'd lived with it for so long that I was quite used to it, to the point where I had almost forgotten about it. But now Jessie was facing the same kind of life and her newborn status was a constant reminder to me. Yet as she said the night she was turned, "We won't be alone."

That had proven to be wonderfully true. And I was so glad for it.

She suddenly looked up at me again. "Do we really want to stay here?"

I smiled. She must have been reading my mind. "Actually," I murmured to her. "I'd much rather go home and finish what Agents Mulder and Scully interrupted."

She grinned at me. "So would I."

Instantly, we were holding hands and heading out the door.

****

Aylebourne Apartment Building
9:10 p.m.

The apartments were only a short walk away. But where it had only taken ten minutes to get to the club, it was proving to take much longer to get home.

The reason for that was quite simple, we kept stopping to put our arms around each other and just kiss. And each time we did, the kisses became more and more intense, until finally, we simply couldn't stand to be apart. And out of sheer desperation, we ran for home.

Only moments later, I was unlocking the back door, dragging Jessie in after me. As the door closed behind us, I brought her into a passionate kiss. Our mouths still crushed together, we somehow managed to stumble to the elevator. Blindly, I reached out and slapped the call button.

Where the intense fire and lust that roared through us came from, I had no clue. But at that moment, I didn't care. All I knew was that I wanted her with an intensity that made my body burn. I could feel myself shifting again, like I had up in our bedroom just before Agent Mulder had walked in. Every sense sharpened, every nerve in my body seemed to be charged, overloaded with electricity. I could feel my blood teeth pulsing, begging to be set free. I granted their wish, letting them slip out, extending themselves.

Opening my eyes, I found myself staring into Jessie's face. She had shifted as well. Her large eyes had become yellow, catlike, filled with the same kind of lust that I felt throbbing through me. And when she smiled, I saw that her own blood teeth were extended.

In neutral, she was beautiful.

As a vampire, she was absolutely radiant.

"Come on," she whispered. "Peter, don't make me wait."

Behind her, the elevator door slowly rolled open and in an instant, I pushed her inside and up against the wall. Again, I reached out and slapped the button for the top floor, our floor. Thankfully, the elevator was private, going directly to the top floor, our apartment. No one would be able to walk in to us. As the door slowly rolled shut, I was kissing her again. Beneath the rough kisses, she was letting out soft sounds; moans and growls. Her soft growls and snarls seemed to trigger some primal instinct in me and I pressed my body to hers even harder, grinding my hips against hers, letting out my own soft moans as I felt the heat of her body soak through my clothes.

I wanted to take her right here, right now, against the wall of the elevator. I wanted to tear our clothes from our bodies and fuck her so hard she screamed my name in ecstasy; just fuck her like the animals we had become.

I was kissing and licking and nipping her neck. She groaned out loud, her voice echoing against the walls of the elevator. "Peter!"

I needed to taste her skin, the suck her breasts, to feel her in my mouth and against my tongue. My hands reached for her blouse, trying to open the buttons as fast as I could. I fumbled with them, silently cursing as they slipped through my fingers. Finally, out of sheer frustration, I ripped the blouse open. Buttons flew everywhere.

Instantly, my hands were over her breasts, feeling the hard nipples against my palms as she arched her back, thrusting them further into my hands.

Once again, my mouth was at her neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling. I bent my head lower and ran my tongue along her clavicle, feeling my blood teeth scrape along the front of her shoulder. Beneath them, I barely noticed as the skin suddenly broke open...

It was her cry of pain that brought me to my senses.

I jerked back from her, all the lust and heat draining away, leaving behind only the strange tension that comes with the shift.

She was wincing in pain. Looking down, I saw a long scrape on her shoulder; beads of blood welling up from the tear in her skin.

I had hurt her.

"Jessie, I..." My voice hissed through my blood teeth. Immediately, I closed my eyes, shifting back into neutral. When I opened them again, I found she had done the same.

I stared at her a moment, guilt pouring through me. After several moments, I finally found my voice. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's all right, Peter," she said gently. "It's nothing, just a scratch."

At that moment, I realized how wrong all of this was, the brutality of what we had just done. This was my wife. I didn't want to fuck her or screw her. I wanted to make love to her.

Even more, I wanted to make love with her.

Bending my head, I carefully licked the blood away from her skin. The enzymes in my saliva, combined with Jessie's own quick healing powers, were enough to easily heal the scratch. In only a few seconds, it was gone.

I ran my fingers over the newly healed spot with a mournful sigh.

I had broken my promise to her.

The elevator door rumbled open and Jessie quietly took my hand and led me into the hallway. Stepping over to the only door there, she already had her keys out and a moment later, was pushing it open.

Most of the candles that we had left burning were still lit, casting a warm glow over the room. I watched as she dropped her keys on the table next to the door and turned to me.

"Come on," she said softly as she took my hands in hers. "Let's talk."

****

Scully

Swissotel Chicago
10:00 p.m.


"What are you waiting for?" I asked, eyes closed. I could feel Mulder's body against mine, heat coursing through me. Pulsing.

What was I thinking? What was I doing? My mind raced, but I tried to silence those thoughts.

My hand slid to the left, to the opening to the balcony. I fumbled with the lock clumsily, but Mulder reached over and unlocked the sliding glass door. I turned around, opening it. I felt the rush of the night air, warm and inviting. The sounds of the cars rushing below, the cityscape all around us. The stars above. Maybe it wasn't the Hancock center, but at 43 stories, it felt close enough.

The balcony was made of concrete, small and secure. The walls came to just above my waist. Extra high for safety. I ventured out, putting my hands on the top, and breathed in. Steadying myself, calming the fears. No one knew where we were. No one knew who we are. Again, the safety we'd had when our vacation had started. This was probably going to be our last night in Chicago, since the case wasn't moving anywhere. I wanted to spend it with Mulder. Just one last time before our work intruded on our lives again. Duty. Obligation. Responsibility. To taste the freedom we had earlier. The freedom he had wanted to give me by bringing me here.

Mulder stood his distance, holding back.

"You're surprised," I said, turning to face him. The cool night air ruffled my hair. "I just wanted to be nobody again. Or someone else who doesn't have to be so accountable for my actions."

"I don't want you to be someone else," Mulder said, stepping onto the balcony. "I just want you to be Scully. My Scully."

"We may only have a couple hours," I said, reaching for him. "But we..."

Mulder silenced me with a kiss. "Better get busy, Scully."

I smiled, pulling his lips to mine again. His fingers worked on my blazer, practically ripping it from my body.

"I want you out of this suit," he breathed between kisses.

We shifted, so we were against one wall of the balcony. My back to the street below, the city surrounding us. It was dark, no one could see us. Just two silhouettes perhaps, moving above was all they'd see.

I could feel him, against me. Hard and insistent pressing into my hip. He brought my leg up, around his waist. Slowly mimicking something he'd seen earlier perhaps. I felt him pressing into the growing heat between my legs. Igniting me.

I heard a siren below, a warning sound of danger or caution. Trying to remind me of why this is wrong. It got louder and I stopped kissing him, staring at him. Eyes locked.

"Don't listen to it," Mulder whispered, knowing why I hesitated. His fingers worked on my belt, unfastening it.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, arching my back out towards the city. I felt like I was falling for a moment, grounded only by Mulder. My heart beat louder and louder.

"You look so beautiful," he said, studying me. "To see your face against the city, Scully...when you..."

He slid my pants down my legs, I stepped out of them. I was still wearing my blouse, my undergarments. He was leaving me clothed from the waist up, to what people could see if anyone dared look at us. Faith, I was going on faith. Faith in Mulder.

I pulled his shirt from his waistband, running my hands up and down his chest. So strong and supple. I couldn't believe it was only last night we did this, it already felt like forever. I ached to have him inside me. Completing me.

"I want you out of this suit," I whispered, playing with the zipper. Inadvertently touching him.

"Watch your hands," he said playfully. "Someone else has missed you all day."

"I can tell," I said, smiling as I worked his pants down.

He shifted me, holding my leg in position to allow access. I felt his fingers rubbing up and down my thigh. Caressing it. He gently moved my undergarment out of the way. I held on to his neck, adjusting positions. The concrete was stiff against my back. But I wouldn't trade the sensation of being elevated for anything.

"Sometimes, it takes just one person to save your soul," Mulder said as he entered me slowly, keeping his eyes locked with mine. "You save mine."

"Mulder," I said, moaning softly as my body relaxed around him. "That's beautiful."

"Something I heard," he smiled softly. "It described you."

I leaned back, as far as I could in his arms. The wind blew across us as we made love. I closed my eyes, concentrating on his thrusts. Trying to meet them eagerly. His arm was supporting my back, holding me close as the other one held my leg in place.

We kissed with fervor, yet slowly and unhurried. Savoring each one. I wanted to remember this like Mulder did. The taste, the feel, the moment. My insides began to tremble, building to its inevitable conclusion. I clutched his shoulder, bracing myself. I moaned into his mouth.

"You're close, aren't you?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I breathed, clenching my teeth. God, this felt good. "You can tell, can't you?"

"I've learned the signs," Mulder said, thrusting harder. "Here?"

"Yeah," I answered, breathing deeper. I smiled at him. "There."

"Lean back," he said. "I'll hold you, lean back over the edge."

I felt Mulder's arms tighten. I let my hands slide down his arms, to the ledge of the balcony. I saw the city, lights around me. Upside down. A million, sparking lights everywhere. Shining, glowing, pulsing. Freefalling.

He thrust into me, hitting that spot that sent me shuddering around him. I heard him laugh quietly, low and breathy. He could feel me. I moaned my release, out into the night. I reached for Mulder's arms, wanting to be brought back to earth. To him.

"Scully," he said, holding me tighter. "That was breathtaking. Better than any stupid Hancock Tower."

"I tried to find a hotel with 54 stories," I smiled, focusing my energy on him. To send him to that same place I just was.

"We'd just have to move to 55...later on," he mused, thrusting into me.

"Are you predicting the future now?" I breathed, closing my eyes. "Let's finish 54..."

Mulder held me tighter when he came, hands clutching on. Sweat beaded across his forehead, that hazy smile across his features. He pulsed inside me, filling me with warmth. Completing me.

"Scully, I l—" he exhaled.

"I love you," I said, before he could. "I love you, Mulder."

And below us, the city pulsed with life.

****

Jessie

Aylebourne Apartment
9:30 p.m.


Months after we first met, after I finally found the courage in me to trust another human soul, I told Peter my worst secret.

I told him about the night my first husband died, about how he'd come home in a rage because of a lost business deal, how he'd beaten me nearly senseless, then stormed out of the house to go off somewhere and get drunk.

At any other time with Jeffrey, that would have been the end of it. In fact, I'd even cleaned myself up and had crawled into bed in the hopes of getting some form of sleep.

I didn't expect my own husband to come home and rape me.

Years later, I can still remember the pain, the terror. I remember screaming at him, begging him to stop, hearing him scream over and over as he slammed into me, "You're mine! You're mine!" I remember the pain of his angry thrusts, tearing me apart in every way as he raped me, the pain of his blows everytime I screamed.

But most of all, I remember the shame I felt after it was all over and he'd stormed out of the house again, the shame of all he did to me; shame so intense that I couldn't look at any of the nurses when I had to go to the hospital to identify his body after his accident hours later; shame so fierce that for five years after he died I couldn't face another living soul.

Until I met Peter.

When I told him my secret, I was stunned at how he reacted. He never once passed judgement on me, never once condemned me, never once blamed me. Standing on a lakefront beach in the middle of the night, he'd held me as I'd cried out years and years of tears. When they'd finally ended, he'd whispered to me that he loved me, that he never blamed me, that he knew it wasn't my fault. And then he'd made me a promise.

He swore to me on his life and on his soul that he would never hurt me, never harm me.

Looking into his face now, I knew he thought he had broken that promise.

Giving him a gentle kiss, I led him over to the piano bench and sat him down. Then I settled myself in his lap, curling up against his body as his arms came around me, holding me to him. We sat there for several silent moments.

"I'm sorry, Jessie," he finally whispered.

"For what?" I asked. "For a scratch on my shoulder? It's nothing, Peter. Nothing to beat yourself up over."

"But I hurt you..."

I looked up at him. "It's not like this hasn't happened before," I said. "Every now and then, you and I get a little crazy when we get aroused." I shrugged. "What about the last time we were up in the rooftop garden? Remember all the scratches I left on your back and the bites on your shoulder; how bad I felt about them?"

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That was a wild night."

I giggled and kissed him. "So that's what we'll put this down to. A wild night."

He sighed and hugged me again. I sat there, savoring the warmth and firmness of his body as held me. After several moments, I lifted my head and kissed him, long and deep. We sat there for several moments, kissing tenderly, deeply. Finally, I whispered to him, "I still want to make love with you."

He pulled back and stared at me, startled.

"I do, Peter," I whispered. "I do."

A smile crossed his face as he kissed me again, his arms tightening around me, holding me even closer. My own arms held him, my hands clutching him. God, how I needed him.

"Touch me," I whispered against his lips.

"Jessie," he moaned softly. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"You won't," I murmured. "I trust you, Peter. Please touch me. I need to feel your touch."

His fingers hesitantly plucked at my blouse. It was still open from when he'd torn it open in the elevator. Noticing this, he pulled back, his cheeks stained red. I reached up and pulled him back to me, covering my mouth with his.

"Please touch me," I whispered again.

His fingers brushed my breastbone, as if he was too shy to go any further. I waited, somehow knowing he would find his courage, that he would know that I trusted him.

As I kissed him again, I felt his hand slide beneath my blouse.

I let out a soft groan as his hand formed around my breast. As always, his touch was warm, gentle. His thumb traced its way around my nipple as his hand gently massaged the flesh surrounding it. With a soft gasp, I broke off the kiss and let my head fall back, letting myself get lost in his touch.

His lips traveled down my throat until he was licking the soft notch at its base. I moaned and squirmed in delight. He knew that drove me crazy.

His lips were over mine again, his arms once again surrounding me. When we came up for air, I quietly whispered to him, "I love you."

He smiled down at me. "I love you, Jessie," he whispered as he pulled me close to him again. "My wife."

I smiled up at him. He always said those two words as if they were something magical. I kissed him. "My husband."

His blue eyes stared into mine, filled with an equal measure of lust and love. I smiled at him and slipped from his arms to stand up. Taking his hands, I pulled him to his feet. My fingers reached for the bottom of his sweatshirt as I kissed him. Knowing he was ticklish, I carefully tugged it up. As I did, I began to recite the words that were rooted in my memory, embedded in my heart, so much so, they were a part of my being.

"I, Jessica Abigail Marwood Parker, do take thee, Peter David Aylebourne, to be my lawfully wedded husband."

My hands had pulled the sweatshirt off and were now working on the button and zipper of his jeans.

"To have and to hold."

He had already kicked off his shoes. I pushed the jeans down until he was able to step out of them.

"For richer or for poorer."

I pushed his briefs down as well, allowing him to step out of them.

"In sickness and in health."

My hands were still resting on his hips and I drew them up over his stomach, his chest, to his shoulders. For a brief moment, they lingered at his clavicles, before reaching up to touch his face, pulling him down to me.

"Till death do us part," I breathed as I kissed him.

His arms were around me, holding me, and I shivered as his fingers caressed the small of my back.

Still kissing me, his fingers drifted around to the front of my waist, tugging the blouse from my jeans, unbuttoning the few buttons that had escaped his fierce yank on my blouse. He began to whisper to me.

"I, Peter David Aylebourne, do take thee, Jessica Abigail Marwood Parker, to be my lawfully wedded wife."

His hands gently pushed the blouse off my shoulders as I kicked my slip-ons off my feet. His own hands carefully slid my slacks down over my hips.

"To have and to hold."

His fingers caressed the waistband of my panties.

"For richer or for poorer."

He knelt down and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband, pressing his lips against my body as he gently drew them down my legs. I shivered and moaned softly.

"In sickness and in health."

He stood up after I had stepped out of the panties and drew me back into his arms, his fingers caressing the small of my back again. I sighed, feeling his naked skin against mine.

"Till death do us part," he breathed as he slid his hands beneath my buttocks and lifted me up. Automatically my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. He began to carry me to the bedroom.

"No," I said quickly. "Here."

"Here?"

"Yes, here," I murmured. "Make love to me here. The one place I can be with the two things I love the most. You and my music."

He smiled, a beautiful smile. Then turning back, he gently set me on top of the piano. I smiled as my legs dangled over the keyboard, my ankles hitting a few of the keys, producing random notes. He began to kiss me again, his mouth working its way down my throat until he was licking the soft notch at its base again. I groaned out loud.

He went lower, his mouth pausing at my breasts, softly kissing the flesh. He licked and gently suckled each of my nipples, drawing them into hard points of fire. Then he gently bit down, causing me to cry out in pleasure.

Lower still, his lips pressing against my stomach, a very sensitive area. I groaned as he drew his tongue across my skin, then gasped as he blew on the patches of moisture he'd left behind.

Sitting down on the piano bench, he draped my legs over his shoulders and tenderly kissed the insides of my thighs. Slowly working his way up, I knew there was no way to resist his ministrations. I parted my legs and a moment later, I felt his tongue tasting my flesh, delving between my folds.

The only sound that echoed around the apartments were my soft gasps and cries and the delicious wet sounds of Peter's tongue against my flesh as his mouth made love to me. My hips bucked towards him as my fingers gripped the edge of the piano. I was sure my fingers were leaving marks in the finish.

I almost cried out in disappointment when he suddenly pulled back. There was a sudden movement and an explosion of sound, random piano notes as he climbed up onto the keyboard, kneeling on it in front of me. His mouth covered mine again and I could taste myself on his lips, his tongue. His arms came around me again and he pushed me back until we were both lying on top of the piano.

I stared up at him, up the beauty that hovered above me and gazed down at me with look of tenderness and love. The candles surrounding us cast a golden glow over his naked body and at that moment, I was convinced an angel was making love to me.

He kissed me again, moving his hips into position to enter me. He suddenly pulled back and smiled impishly.

"Let's hope our FBI friends don't walk in at this point."

I couldn't help it. I giggled.

He kissed me again, and for a brief moment, I was tempted to close my eyes. But, no. I wanted to see Peter's face the moment he entered me.

Pulling back from the kiss, he closed his eyes. A movement, a gentle thrust, and he slid into me. My back arched and I groaned, but my eyes never left his face. An expression of pure peace and utter contentment filled his features, as if being so connected to me somehow completed him. I knew that's what I felt whenever he entered me, filled me. Complete.

He laid his body down on mine, his arms sliding around me as he softly kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he began to kiss mine. I savored the feel of him inside of me. Gliding my hands down his body, I slid them over his buttocks and gently squeezed, the way I knew he liked it. I heard him let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

The thrusts began a moment later. They were tender, gentle. He knew I liked to build our lovemaking up slowly. I groaned softly, whispering his name.

He pulled his body up from mine a bit and I felt him take my hands in his. Still thrusting into me, he gently raised my arms above my head, holding them there as his fingers laced with mine. His lips fell against mine again in another soft kiss. I felt his thrusts speed up. I could hear the soft sound of random notes, feel them being played out beneath my back as Peter's legs, which were still dangling over the edge, randomly hit the keys as he thrust into me. I lifted my own legs, wrapping them around his waist as his thrusts gained in speed and intensity.

Small moans were escaping my throat with each thrust and I could feel the delicious tension building, coiling inside of us, and getting ready to explode. Peter's lips left mine as he buried his face in my neck again. I chanted his name over and over, my voice rising in pitch as the tension built up to the inevitable climax.

Peter was moaning, whispering. Whispering my name. Whispering phrases in a language that I recognized but only knew a few words of. Gaelic. He once told me that he hadn't spoken Gaelic in centuries and that the only time he ever spoke it now was when he made love to me. As he murmured the beautiful language to me, I recognized some of the words. Heart. Soul. Life. Love.

His thrusts suddenly sped up again as he pulled his body up from mine, allowing them to go deeper. My own hips rose up to meet his and by this time, we were crying out incoherently. His arms still held mine over my head, his fingers still laced with mine. I felt them tighten around my hands.

At that moment, we shattered.

My body arched and I screamed as everything inside of me exploded. I felt Peter come with the same violent intensity as he threw back his head and howled.

I let out a soft gasp as his body collapsed down on mine. We lay there for several minutes, shaking from the orgasm. "Tigerlily," he moaned softly. "My sweet Tigerlily."

Finally, as we recovered, I whispered to him, "I love it when you call me that."

His soft laughter vibrated against my body and I soon found myself laughing as well. Lifting himself up again, he carefully slid out of me and gave me a gentle kiss on the right side of my neck, the exact place he'd bitten me when he turned me. He did that every time we made love, as if it was some sort of precious ritual. I found I didn't mind one bit.

We lay there for several more moments, just enjoying the feel of each other's bodies and the glow of the candles, which seemed to accentuate the afterglow of our lovemaking. As I savored the weight of his body on mine, the feel of his skin against mine, the taste of his sweat as I kissed his neck, I was happy, content.

And I could only wish Agents Mulder and Scully the same happiness.


****


Continued in Chapter Five