Author: Rhondda Lake

Title: Cassy I: In Your Dreams

Rating: NC-17

Category: X, R (Mulder/other then Mulder/Scully)

Summary: Empathic Cassandra Troy must confront her downstairs
neighbor about his nightmares. They are keeping her awake. But once
she becomes involved in the dark and alluring world of Fox Mulder
she might loose much more then her heart.

The following novel is a MUCH revised and rewritten edition of
an older work of mine. It's been so redone it is hardly recognizable 
compared to it's original form. 

Special and abundant thanks are due to Chantal Kuhn. Editor
extraordinare. She is responsible for taking this old rock of a
story and making it into this polished gem. She even put quite
a few words in Mulder's mouth. :) I want to make it clear from
the start that SHE wanted me to distribute the second 'book' through
the others. I think it most likely would have worked that way, and 
been a smoother ride. *I* decided against it, because I wanted to
keep the books at least vaguely resembling the way they were originally
written. Any roughness in the flow there is entirely my fault, and
not Chantal's.

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter
and 10/13 productions. I use them without permission. I am not
asking for money and this story may be distributed freely among
consenting adults.

IN YOUR DREAMS
by Rhondda Lake

He was enraged beyond words. How could that dickweed, Furguson,
have allowed this case to progress this far with such a closed mind? And
why, in God's name, did they wait to bring him in until there was no 
chance that the last victim was still alive?

Special Agent Fox Mulder slammed the box of files down on his
coffee table. The files on top spilled over the edge and flowed
over, onto the table and floor. 

Mulder bent to pick them up and found himself staring into the face of 
four year old Harold Connaly. The child had a soft, cherubic face. Brown 
hair, cut short, stuck up at odd angles, rebelling against the order a comb 
had tried to impose on it. At four the child's face was a blank pallet, only a
few indications to hint at the features he should have developed as a man. 
A man he would never become.

Mulder shoved the picture back into it's proper file. He'd never have
accepted being put on this case if it were not for the combined forces
of Donald Jenkins and Walter Skinner.

Skinner was enough of an ally that Mulder realized he did not want to
anger him without just cause AND that favors were owed. Not that
either man would ever call them favors, or directly speak of such things.
It was a silent agreement.

Donald Jenkins was one of the few friends Mulder had maintained 
from his Academy days. One of the few who understood his reasons
for leaving VC. And perhaps the only agent in the bureau who had
never called him 'Spooky'. On top of all that Don was a mean badminton
player, and despite his height disadvantage he had a wicked hoop shot.

Scully had agreed to take the case. Frankly he thought she was 
relieved to have something mundane to work on. He doubted she had
ever been involved in a long term case involving dead children. If she
had she wouldn't have been so quick to agree.

Mulder sank down into his sofa and pulled open a file. With a deep 
breath he immersed himself in a nightmare of missing and dead children.

                                          *

Cassandra turned over on Tammy's sofabed.  It was there
again, pounding at the bastion of her shields, shields she had
thought pretty damn strong.  

It, in this case, was a wave; a tempest driven sea. It was an contorted
impetus of terror, rage, helplessness, guilt, longing and love tied in such a 
knot it assaulted her fortifications like a battering ram. 

Yep, there it was... downstairs and further to the front of the building.  
At this rate she wasn't going to get any sleep unless she did something 
about it.  This was enough to make her think moving in with Tammy 
four days ago had been a mistake, no matter how badly she needed a 
place to stay and a roommate to share the rent.  She did NOT want 
to show up one week into her new job looking like a zombie.  She'd 
never be able to explain it.

"Uh... well you see, Mr. Simms, I'm an empath... I have a
really good hold on it and I can usually block out the entire
world with these shields I've put up.... but there's someone in
my  apartment building who is one majorly screwed up puppy 
and they're keeping me up half the night."  Cassandra muttered 
into the darkness. "Yah, right.  That would go over like a lead 
balloon."

She sighed and tried to make herself comfortable.  She
concentrated on her own breathing and slowly lowered her abused
defenses, peeling away layer after layer of carefully wrought
protection placed between her and the outside world. 

The muffling layers that wrapped her mind and nerves in cotton 
and liquid silk  buffered her from the mental bruising she'd receive if 
too often forced to feel the emotional emanations of others. If her 
mind stood too long, naked, to the hurricane maelstrom of other's loves, 
hates,  jealousies, joys and pains she'd go mad. Losing herself, her sense of 
what SHE felt. Till nothing but a husk remained, filled only with the insane
swirl of emotions filtered through her.

The mind downstairs was filled with too many emotions. A mixture so 
intense that, unfettered by sleep, they sent a constant attack against her
protections, slowly eroding them. They were wearing them down by the 
sharp, jagged edges of their nature. If she didn't intercede now, they'd 
slowly be worn down to nothing. 

Braced as she was, when she had half her shields down, the full brunt 
of the downstairs neighbor's emotions nearly overwhelmed her.  She 
fought to keep from screaming, to retain control of her breathing, which 
had sped up bringing her near hyperventilation. She refused to be swept 
away by it. This was from a SLEEPING mind?

Regaining control of herself,  she decided to try something she hadn't 
felt the need to do in years.  She allowed her conscious mind to follow 
the waves of emotion to its source, and at once she was lost in the dream...
*********************************

Paralyzing light, can't move, can't really breathe, a name shrieked in
terror, a desperate plea for salvation. Violent emotions threatening to 
tear her apart.  A child, a little dark-haired girl floating to the light. The 
child now a pretty red-haired woman, battered and bleeding. Such rage. 
So much guilt. Consuming terror. Rending heartbreak. Beleaguering 
helplessness and encompassing loss.

Cassandra fought her way free and asserted her own will on
this nightmare.  She was able to move then. Good, step
one.  Now step two. She forced the light to dim, then go away.
The images faded into nothingness, leaving only a whimpering
little boy on a bed behind her. She noticed him now, his eyes
wide with terror. He looked at her, focusing on her in this dream
world.

"Who are you?" The fear was dying now, the other terrible
emotions melting away with the rest of the nightmare.

"Someone who needs their sleep.  So do you I guess." She
sighed. It was a kid... a little boy, purely adolescent, suffering
like this?  Now she felt guilty about her own quick temper at the
situation. 

Hell, it really didn't matter who it was.  No one should have to 
face this kind of thing at night.  She went to the child's bed and 
sat on the edge.  The kid had a good imagination. His dream bed 
creaked under her weight.  She felt a surge of maternal affection 
and she reached out to brush a stray lock of dark hair off the boy's 
forehead.  The gentle gesture made tears well in the child's lovely 
hazel eyes.

"I lost them. It was my fault. I couldn't save them."

Cassandra sighed as she embraced the boy and let him cry on
her shoulder. Emotional release, even in dreams, could be
cathartic. "It's only a dream, kiddo.  It can't hurt you. Just
rest easy and let an easier sleep take you."
 
The boy shook his head but closed his eyes and began to
fade, indicating the end of the dream. "It's not a dream... it was
real."

************

Cassandra felt herself back on the sofabed.  The cool sheets
wrapped around her like a cocoon.  But the bruising assault from
downstairs was gone.  She'd managed to chase those dreams away
for him for at least tonight.  With a smile of contentment she
pulled her shields back around her and closed her eyes, pursuing
her own more peaceful dreams.

*********************

Mulder clutched at the file in his hands, feeling almost giddy. At last
they had an X-File to dive into. It would give him a break from the
child killer case he'd been focusing too much time on.

Most people failed to realize that FBI agents rarely worked on one case 
exclusively. Most had three to eight pressing, immediate cases and up to 
one hundred open and pending ones. 

In the ISU most profilers had an average caseload of one hundred to 
one hundred and thirty extremely violent cases showcasing the worst 
humanity had to offer. 

In the X-Files he and Scully handled just as many cases as any agent
in ISU, often just as violent. But every agent he'd ever known had
always allowed one or two cases to become their focus, their passion.
He was allowing this child killer case to become his. It frightened him.

It was drawing him away from his own goals. It was drowning him in
the horrors of tiny dead bodies. It was the type of case he had loathed 
when he was part of ISU. It was slowly eating away at his soul.

Give him a mutant or an alien any day. Give him something not human. 
Something he couldn't see in the faces of strangers on the street.
Something he couldn't see in his own face in the mirror every morning.

The truly confounding thing about this non-X-file case was that, for 
some unfathomable reason, it had not infested his nights with visions
of terror. He'd slept better, and longer in the last month than he had
in the past six years.

One more mystery to add to a lifetime of enigmas.

He shifted the small bag of purchases into the hand holding the 
x-file. He had to confirm his and Scully's flight data for Monday
morning yet. He dug out his key and poked at the lock. 

                                         *


It was late, and it was Cassy's turn to cook.  If Mr. Simms
hadn't insisted on getting the whole advertising spread done 
before tomorrow she would have been home a half hour ago.  
The damn deadline wasn't till next week anyway.  

The elevator was dead this morning,  making the day start off just 
wonderfully as well. She paid the cabby and took the stairs two at 
a time. Great. Fresh paint at the fourth floor. 'Use the other stairs', the 
note demanded. How much rent were they paying again? She pushed 
through the stairwell door then sped down the fourth floor hall.

She might just be able to get spaghetti started and done before
Tammy came home. She owed her best friend everything for
allowing her to move in two months ago, and despite the
shared rent Cassy thought it would be rude if she didn't have
dinner on time on her own nights to cook. She wouldn't even have
stayed, despite Mr. Simms, if she hadn't arrived five minutes late to work
this morning.

For the tenth time this month alone she'd had to calm down
the dreams of the kid downstairs. She never really saw him except
in the dream with the lights and the little girl... the other
times it was almost as if she was experiencing the dream on her
own, the things were happening to her, and the boys presence was
a thing felt rather than seen. 

Last night had been about ice, and pain. About a spike trying to kill 
and a man who changed shapes. Vicariously she experienced being 
trapped in a cage of chicken wire while oil slick slugs invaded her body. 
She'd felt the terror of being trapped in her own body; a puppet to 
someone else's deadly will.  She'd felt the blood freezing in her veins... 
it had almost made the recurrent dream of the first night seem innocent. 

She rationalized her involvement by telling herself it was out of
self preservation. Just to stop the battering at her mind so she could
sleep, nothing more. But there was a certain morbid fascination at 
work as well. She DID want to calm the child's fears, but part of her
wanted to see what new terrors would appear. The same instinct that
drew people to stare at the violent, bloody aftermath of a car crash drew
her to those nightmares.

She was speeding down the hall, so lost in her thoughts that
she never saw the poor guy trying to get his door open until she
rammed into him, sending her own bag of groceries flying, their
contents mixing with the stuff from the bag he had held and
spreading over the hall.  At least HE'D managed to keep on his
feet; she had gone flying with the bag upon running into the
unexpected solid weight.

She looked at the scattered debris and blushed before she
let her eyes travel up the length of the poor guy she'd smacked
into. Oh my! He was gorgeous. The movie star, male model kind of 
beautiful that made you thank God you were female and straight. The 
look of surprised amusement on his face made her blush even deeper.

"Oh God! I'm sorry!" Cassandra stammered as she got up as
far as her knees and began to gather up crash wreckage.  

Okay,  the frozen dinners and fish food weren't hers. She shoved them
into the ripped, but salvageable, bag she still held.  She noticed her
collision victim on one knee helping her. She handed him the
stuff that wasn't hers and he handed her the box of spaghetti and
jar of sauce.

"What? No romano?" The guy chuckled.

"The corner store was out and the meter was running." Cassy
realized she was babbling and snapped her mouth shut. She scooped
up a bag of salted sunflower seeds and handed them to him.
"Yours."

He took the bag and handed her the shaker of oregano.
"Yours." He echoed.

Cassy nodded and took it.

He helped her up. "Don't you know the principal frowns on
running in the halls?"

"But I'm awful late for home ec. class Mr. Hall Monitor. If
you don't write me up I promise never to do it again." She played
along as much out of growing amusement as from relief that he
wasn't angry at her.

"Alright... just this once. Next time it's detention though," he gave her
a lopsided grin. 

"Oh no. If you make me stay after class it'd ruin my social life."As she 
spoke Cassy found herself looking up into the most beautiful hazel 
eyes she had ever seen, yet... there was something  achingly familiar 
about those eyes. The owner of the eyes in question frowned, a look 
of puzzlement on his face.

"Have we met before?"

Cassandra blushed again. Nope, she'd have remembered meeting
HIM. Stunning. Tall, dark hair, a bit pale and his suit was 
worth more than anything in Cassandra's entire wardrobe. 
But those eyes...

"I don't think so. But we are neighbors of sorts. I'm living
upstairs with Tammy Phillips." Cassy juggled her now bagless
packages into one arm and proffered her hand."Cassandra Troy, and
if you laugh I'll kick your ass. My dad was a classics professor who
couldn't resist tormenting his children for life."

"I'm not laughing." He managed to look serious but there was
a twinkling of humor in his eyes as he shook her hand. "Fox
Mulder, and if you laugh I'll kick your ass."

"Uhggg... Hippies for parents are worse than Classics professors 
any day." Cassandra ventured in mock sympathy, while secretly 
she thought his name was definitely fitting. 

Fox. Wasn't that..  Her eyes widened and the memory of a small, 
terrified girl calling out the name haunted her smile. Powerful 
recognition permeated her consciousness, stilling her breath. Those 
damned hazel eyes. He wasn't a child after all. THIS was the
source of several nights of empathic torment.

"Actually they weren't hippies." He looked puzzled again, as
if trying to place her, or sensing the sudden shift in her demeanor. 
Time to beat a hasty retreat.

"I uh... gotta go. I'll be sure to WALK the rest of the way.
Nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder."

She didn't run, but her walk was hurried as she cleared
the back end of the hall and made her way up the stairs.

*******************

Over dinner she asked Tammy about Fox Mulder. Tammy
shrugged, "I think he's with the FBI. Just try and stay clear of
him, ok? He has people pounding on his door at all hours, and his
apartment has been broken into more times than any other in the
building. Last time no one even bothered to call the police. No
respect for law enforcement anymore ya know." She sipped her soda
before continuing, "He's been known to act really weird. Good
looking, but bad news." Tammy finished her pasta and looked at
Cassy funny. "You weren't thinking about asking him out, were you?"

"No. I uh... literally ran into him earlier." She managed to
get Tammy to laugh as she told her about the earlier mishap in
the hall.

**************************

Not AGAIN! Cassandra drew a pillow up over her head in the
vain hope that it would help block out the emotional turmoil of
one Fox Mulder. It wasn't working. The nightmare he was having
was not going away either, or if it had, it had simply flowed into
another of equal intensity. Knowing the risk, but unable to block
out the man's distress she relaxed and lowered her shields.

It was the same nightmare as the first she encountered. That
was good. She didn't think she could take another elastic man
chasing her through someplace dark and narrow, or shadows that
ate people, not tonight. At least she knew how to handle this one
and with brusque efficiency, she scattered the dream to the four
winds. Good. Now they could both get some sleep. She suddenly
felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she was spun around... to
face the grown up  Fox Mulder. "I knew I'd recognized you from
somewhere..."

*************************

Cassandra sat up un the sofabed stifling a scream. She'd
snapped back to herself in order to escape.

OK, chances were he would forget the whole thing, or pass it
off as just another part of his over-active dream life. Nope.
Cassandra knew with cold certainty neither would happen.  Maybe
she had touched more than emotions and dreams, but she knew he'd
remember, and he'd want answers.

Cassy looked at the digital clock on the VCR and moaned.
3am. But tomorrow was Saturday, so she didn't have to face work.

She slipped out of bed and pulled on her terry robe over her
oversized t-shirt. Shoving her feet into her slippers she
readjusted her long, dark braid and headed for the door.  If she didn't
get this over with she'd loose all her nerve and run for the hills.

Downstairs she knocked on the door of apartment 42. Getting
no response she knocked harder.  There was a soft click and Mr.
Mulder opened the door. He was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt, 
his hair was mussed and he did not look particularly happy
to have her banging on his door at 3am.  The fact that he had a
gun in his hand did nothing to ease Cassy's nerves.

She looked at the gun in near panic. "I... I thought we
needed to talk. But - I can come back in the morning."

"It is morning." He opened the door and led her into a
cluttered living room.  There was an insane order to the place
bordering somewhere between messy and neat that she hadn't quite
seen before. There was a pillow and a blanket in a lump on a
black leather couch. Mr. Mulder placed his gun on the cluttered
coffee table and motioned for her to take a chair. Cassy chewed
on her bottom lip as she did. She tried to avoid looking at him,
but the silence was killing her. She noticed the large fish tank
behind him.

"Nice fish," she offered weakly as she played with her
fingers.

"Nice trick. Mind telling me how you do it?" He hadn't sat
down and it was playing havoc on her already frayed nerves.

"Oh... that." She looked up at him sheepishly.

"Yah... that. The fact that you just HAPPENED to come
knocking at my door right after I had a dream with you in it does
not escape me. Nor does the fact that I've dreamed of you before,
and I must admit; when I dream of beautiful women it doesn't
usually involve them chasing my nightmares away." He didn't sound
pissed off. He sounded curious... excited even. Yes,
excited... it pushed its way past her nerve frazzled shields.

Cassandra blushed when what he said sank fully in. Nobody
had ever called her beautiful before, outside of her family who
didn't count.

"Yah well... you have some pretty nasty nightmares."

"Tell me about it." He ran a hand through his tousled hair
and she found herself staring.  She looked quickly away.  This
was hard enough without dragging her hormones into it.

"I... I'm an empath. Uh... that means..."

"You're able to psychically feel the emotional emanations
of others? Have you been tested?" The fact that he knew what an
empath was came as a shock, that he was growing more excited was
numbing.

Cassandra raised her hands in a defensive gesture. "Yes, I
was tested under a false name.  I covered my tracks pretty well
because I didn't want to end up some guinea pig.  You are taking
this a lot better than I thought. I... I sort of thought you'd
try to subdue me and call in the guys with the butterfly nets."

"Unbelievable... a genuine psychic in my own apartment
building." He mumbled while running a hand over his face. "I
believe you. I mean, you WERE in my dreams. I'm fascinated by
paranormal phenomenon. It goes with my work in a way, or I made
it go with my work."

Cassandra shuddered. "That might explain those dreams. Ever
think of becoming a nice, safe accountant?"

He smiled at her and her heart did a little flip flop. "Nah... I always 
hated paperwork."

"So you joined the FBI?" she asked incredulously. "You went
into a branch of government to escape paperwork? Did I miss
something?"

He laughed. "Yah, well they forgot to mention the files in
triplicate in their recruitment speech." He was suddenly serious
again. "The dreams... how?"

Cassy scuffed at the green nap carpet with a slippered toe.
"Well when my sister Helen- my dad's sick name thing again- when
she had nightmares about a monster in a closet as a kid I found I
could go into her dreams using her fear as a link, and make the
boogie man go away. We both slept better after that. Uh... your
nightmares were keeping me awake. They slammed against my
shielding making you hard to block out. I went into your dreams
as a last ditch desperation measure." She watched him for a
reaction.

It was his turn to look embarrassed; it brought to mind the
image of the little boy huddled on his bed and before she knew it
Cassandra was standing and brushing that stray lock of dark hair
off his forehead. She snatched her hand back with a start.

"Yah... well thanks." His voice had deepened a bit and he
looked away from her this time. "I've been sleeping better
because of you any way."

"We both have then.  With your permission then, when I feel
your nightmares getting out of control again... I...I'll chase
them away for you." Cassandra smiled slightly.

"If they don't give YOU nightmares... your welcome in my
dreams any time."

Cassy felt light headed.  Had he just meant what it sounded
like he meant? She licked her suddenly dry lips and saw him
watching the unconscious action.  

Her breath caught.  God, he was good looking.  How long had 
it been? Too long by the way her body was reacting to just his 
gaze. 

He leaned forward and tucked a loose tendril of her own dark hair 
behind her ear after it had escaped her night time braid.  Her body 
reacted with a jolt as he finger caressed the curve of her ear 
completely out of proportion to such an innocent gesture.  

It had  been too long, Cassy thought to herself as her own fingers 
moved to trace the line of his jaw to follow the slight cleft in his 
chin up to where it touched his bottom lip, making it seem pouty, 
and eminently kissable.

It was he who closed the distance between them, who
leaned down to brush Cassy's lips softly with his. Barely any
pressure at all, just a butterfly flutter of silk. She was the
one who leaned into the kiss, moving her hand from his jaw around
to the back of his head where her fingers laced in his hair and
pulled him closer, opening her mouth to lick at his lips just the
slightest bit.  

Then he was opening to her, allowing her tongue to explore, to 
taste him before his own twined with hers, following it back to 
run his own foray. The incredible sensation of it, the slick slightly 
rough texture on top of the wonderful erotic taste, Cassandra was 
having a hard time breathing.  

Part of her cried out that this was insane, she barely knew this man 
while the other part just as rationally answered that she had been in
his dreams, in his mind, what more did she really need?

His mouth left hers to trail kisses alternately soft and
hard down her jaw, he throat and she gasped as he found the spot
just below her ear that was most sensitive.

"This is crazy," he murmured against her throat.

"I agree." She whispered into his hair, "Do you always sleep
on the couch or do you have a bed?"

He laughed a bit and untied her robe, slipping it off her
arms. "I have a bed. But it's covered with books and papers I
have to file." He leaned back to look at her. "Nice sleep wear, by
the way."

"I only shop at the best places." Her plain grey t-shirt
was a match for his, even down to the pocket on the left breast.
"Must be fate."
 
Cassandra ran her hands under his t-shirt, marveling at
the feel of muscle beneath skin.  How the smooth skin of his
abdomen flowed to the sparsely haired angle of his chest, her
fingertips lightly brushing his nipples as she explored. She
delighted at the tiny shudder that went through him at that.

"Screw the papers, I can reorganize them later." He trapped
her face between his hands as he kissed her again, not breaking
the kiss as his hands moved down her neck, over her shoulders to
gently cup her breasts, his thumbs teasing her hardened nipples
through the cotton of the shirt. She moaned into his mouth as
liquid fire spread from her breasts to lower places.

Cassandra tugged at his shirt and he released her enough to
pull it over his head and off, dropping it on the floor with her
robe. He just as deftly removed her shirt, pulling back a bit
more to look at her. Cassandra felt a nervous blush all the way
to her toes.

"You are beautiful," he breathed again.

"You're the first person who ever told me that. It's... it's
a nice thing to hear." She stepped out of her slippers so that
she stood  before him clad only in a pair of rather plain white
panties.

"You must hang out around the blind alot." He swept her up
then, and carried her into the bedroom. He was surprisingly
strong, or, she realized, just determined. At five foot eight and
a hundred and twenty five pounds she knew she was no easy burden.

He set her on her feet once inside the door as he swept the
comforter off the bed, sending papers flying to flutter to the
floor. He looked at her then, his sleepy lidded eyes  filled not
only with desire but... apprehension.

"Are you sure about this?" The question startled her. She
was standing all but naked in his bedroom with her knees going weak
and he had to ask THAT? Well in a way it was sweet, giving her a
chance to back out.

"Well since you already messed up all that dreaded
paperwork." She smiled and moved closer, kissing his neck,
sucking gently at the slightly salty skin, thrilling at the
goosebumps she felt on his arms as she ran her hands down them to
take his hands in her own.

She kissed her way down his chest, pausing to flick each of
his nipples with her tongue before moving on, lower, lower, until
she stopped just above the waist of his sweatpants. 

She looked up at his face with a wicked grin before tugging 
the offending garment down and off, revealing the extent of 
his own desire to her. She pressed a kiss to each of his thighs 
before reigning little kisses down the length of his arousal. He 
gasped and shuddered at her attentions.

"Protection?" She looked up at him sardonically. He took a
moment to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Top nightstand drawer."

It was only an arm length away so she opened the drawer and
found an unopened box. Slightly annoyed at the delay of having to
open the cardboard as well as the foil wrapper she held it away
when he moved to take it.

"Nope. Mine." She gave a particularly bedeviling grin
before putting the latex oval to her lips, sucking in the tip
slightly. She almost laughed when she saw his eyes go wide.

It didn't taste to great, but it was quite a stimulating
experience easing on the condom with lips, teeth and tongue. He
finally had to stop her, shoving her away a bit before she
completely undid him.

He pulled her up to kiss her again sliding his hands down
her sides to slide off her panties. Then he removed the band that
held her braid in place, his long fingers sweeping through her
heavy, black tresses to spread them over her shoulders and down
her back. 

He tugged at her hair gently, leading her to the bed. With another 
deep, incredible kiss he eased her back on it, stretching out beside 
her as his hands began a light exploration of her body. His touch 
was feather light, almost imagined as his hands traced her hips, her 
side, the curve of her breast, her shoulders, down her arms. 

Amid this voyage of discovery his mouth began to fall, the kisses 
random, here feather soft, there harder, and there a gentle nip. Her 
body thrummed with anticipation and growing urgency.  When his 
mouth finally fell on her breast, taking in the aching tip to suckle, 
gently scraping with teeth she cried out softly as a tiny orgasm caused 
her to shudder in his arms.

"Oh, Fox." She gasped his name as his mouth moved to give
equal attention to the other breast, his tongue tracing a wet
path between the budding peaks. He mumbled something that was
lost as she was rocked by another wave of pure sensation.

His lips moved upward again to claim her mouth.

"What...mmmmmm... what did you say?"

He smiled against her lips as one hand made it's lazy way to
tangle in the dark curls at the apex of her thighs eliciting
another gasp and shudder. "I said don't call me Fox. I hate that
name."

His knowing fingers teased and stroked and she arched up,
biting back another moan as one probing finger slipped inside
her.

"Wha...oh God...what... should... I... call you?" His hands,
his wonderful hands seemed to know just what to do, where to go.
She let her own hands flow over him, finding where he liked to be
touched.

"I think oh God's already taken."  He bit his lower lip as
Cassandra's hand found him and began to knead and stroke, forcing
his own hands to falter in their explorations. As if challenged
he slipped another finger inside her and smiled at her soft cry,
cutting it off with a kiss.

"Mulder." he whispered into her ear before suckling her ear
lobe. "Just call me Mulder."

Cassandra's reply was lost as her entire body convulsed
around the rhythm of his fingers, and she had to bite her lip to
keep from screaming.

Mulder moved slightly, teasing her thighs open.  Gathering
her scattered wits she managed to guide him into herself, his
penetration was tortuously slow. She wrapped her legs around him,
her heels on the back of his thighs she drew him in. She was able
to take all of him, for though he was slightly bigger then
average she found her own body eager to accommodate. He filled
her perfectly. She whimpered next to his ear when he began to
withdraw with the same painful slowness.

"Slowpoke." She nibbled along his jaw.

"Greedy," he shot back, meeting her lips.

He increased his pace, but not by much as the tension within her
coiled again.

Two could play at that game. With another wicked smile she
dropped her outer shields, pulling him in. 

Most people never realize how deeply emotions are involved 
in even the most casual sex. Anticipation, longing, lust, need, 
added to the intense physical proximity is a heady mixture. 
The emotional gamut ran so high that at times like this Cassandra 
was almost telepathic. Mulder froze mid stroke as he suddenly 
felt himself through her nerve endings as well as his own. The 
sensation was nearly his undoing and a look close to pain flickered 
across his face as he gritted his teeth to regain control.

"What the..."
 
Cassandra shifted her hips, taunting him as new sensation
flooded them both. "Just a little empathic trick I learned by
accident the first time. I think I almost killed him."

"I believe it. Give a guy some warning, why don't you?" But
he continued. The pace quickening as each stroke filled them both
with the sensation of themselves as well as the other. Both of
them drawing dangerously near the edge. As one they stiffened and
Cassandra's scream of triumph as their bodies were swept up in
the spasms of release was cut off by Mulder's mouth as he
swallowed the sound.

They lay there quietly for a while, neither saying a word,
just comfortable in each other's arms.

"Well, that was fun." Cassandra broke the silence at last.

"Fun?" Mulder looked  at her with a bemused expression. "It
was considerably more than fun."

"You're right, it was wonderful. I don't usually do this. I think 
you're the first guy I've ever slept with before knowing him
at least a month."

"But you've been in my dreams for more than a month." He
kissed her temple, his fingers toying with her hair.

"Ahhh... there is that. But it isn't quite the same now is
it."

"I want to see you again, Cassandra." He gestured to the bed,
"and not just for this."

"Cassy, and I should hope not. A guy should at least buy a
girl a dinner, ya know." She disentangled herself from him with
great reluctance, rising from the bed to search out her panties.

"I have to go. Tammy will have heart failure if I'm not
there when she gets up in the morning."

He sighed. "I have work in the morning."

"It's Saturday." Cassandra looked at him dumfounded.

"But the federal government never rests. I'll be done by
five. Can I take you to that dinner?"

Cassandra grinned then kissed him again, relishing the
taste. "I'll be ready by five thirty. Make it someplace nice... I
don't sleep with anyone just for pizza. See you in your dreams."

Cassandra slipped from the room and hunted down the rest of
her clothing. Dressing again she slipped back into her shared
apartment. Sliding into her own lonely sofa bed she wondered if
Fox Mulder was asleep yet. Nightmares weren't the only kind of
dreams he could have...
===============================