Author: Andrea



Title: 20 Minutes or It's Free



Rating: NC-17



Category: MSR, Scully POV, Post-ep



Disclaimer: I wish...then there would be no ninth season,

never mind a semi-Mulderless eighth.



Archiving: I'd be honoured, but I'd also like to know.



Notes: Thank you Aly for the great beta!



Summary: What kind of guarantee comes with your pizza?



Spoilers: Empocledes



Feedback: Yes Please! ardywyn@hotmail.com



You can find all of my stories at;

http://members.rogers.com/faloona4/atlast.html



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Mulder has often taken great delight in teasing me about my

ability to fall asleep anywhere, any time. I think it only took

moments after I conceived for that talent to improve ten-fold. I

can't count the number of times Agent Doggett has had to nudge me

awake in meetings with Skinner. If my boss hadn't decided that I

needed special treatment, he probably would have insisted that I

start my maternity leave early. Instead he'd just give me a wink

and a smile when I rejoined the discussion and asked me what I'd

missed. I was looking forward to the time when my co-workers were

going to treat me like an agent again and not a delicate flower.

I'd spent years trying to prove I had the right stuff; thanks to

a single lucky sperm, I was worse off now then when I'd first

joined the bureau.



I am in the middle of my 'after work but before dinner' power

nap when a loud knock wakes me up. Grumbling, I hoist myself off

the couch to see who has the nerve to disturb my rest. Before I

get to the door, my hypersensitive pregnancy nose detects an

aroma that makes my stomach rumble and my mouth water. Pizza! But

I don't remember ordering any pizza. That means nothing. Lately

my mind has been like a sieve. I think it's one of those natural

defenses given to pregnant women, making the gestation period seem

less interminable. I've dubbed it gestational senility. It wasn't

working.



When I open the door he's standing there with the pizza in

one hand, the other hand stuffed into the pocket of his red

jacket.



"I don't remember ordering a pizza," I smile up at him.



"You've been such a good customer, I thought you deserved a

reward." Even behind the blue tint of his glasses I can see

his eyes sparkling.



"Am I only entitled to the pizza or are there any other prizes?"

I wantonly flutter my eyelashes at him, wondering briefly how

many pregnant women have made passes at him.



"The pizza man is here to please," he lowers his voice. It

somehow doesn't suit his gelled hair.



"Then you better come in," I wave him in.



"Where do you want it," he nods toward the pizza.



"On the couch," I tell him decisively.



"You want the pizza on the couch?" he looks at me in surprise.



"No, I want you on the couch," I try to sound as seductive as

a woman in her third trimester can.



He tries to speak, but only manages a strangled gurgle. I've

shocked the pizza man.



"Are you reneging on your offer?" I stick out my bottom lip.



"Unh, no, but I, um, is it safe? You were just in the hospital."



"Well, we can't have intercourse, but I'm sure you can think of

an alternative. You seem smart for a pizza man."



"Gee, thanks," he grumbles.



"Don't worry, I won't leave you high and dry," I start toward

him.



"Jesus," his eyes widen and he backs up.



"You know some women's sexual appetite disappears during

pregnancy and some women become almost insatiable," I inform him.



"Yeah?" he has backed up against the couch now.



"I'm among the latter." When I push lightly on his chest he

collapses, the pizza still in his hand. Taking it from him, I

set it on the coffee table.



When I turn back to face him he is sitting limply on the couch

with a dazed look on his face. A thin sheen of sweat was

starting to form on his forehead.



"You look a little warm. Even though that jacket is very sexy,

you might be more comfortable with it off," I reach down to

help him with it.



Nodding distractedly, he lets me remove the coat, his eyes never

leaving mine. After I fold it over the back of the couch, I ask

him to help me undress.



"Can I stand up?" he blinks up at me.



"Whatever you want, pizza man," I grin.



Soon after he begins to take off my clothes, I feel the tables

have turned. Like all of the other men in my life, he is handling

me like a china doll. With him, however, I cherish it. He leaves

no skin uncaressed or unkissed, taking special care to ensure

that breasts are not neglected. Before he reaches my pants, I can

no longer stand.



"I need to lay down," I tell him breathlessly.



"Are you all right?" his concern is instant.



"Yeah," I smile broadly, "I have to lay down in a good way."



"The pizza man still has it," his tone is cocky.



"That has yet to be seen," I remind him, my voice as earthy as I

can make it.



After he has helped me to the couch, he removes the rest of my

clothes rapidly and immediately begins to kiss the sensitive skin

on my inner thighs. He chuckles proudly when I inhale sharply.

With every touch, his lips and fingers bring me closer to my

release. While his tongue gently laps at my clit, his fingers

are teasing the delicate skin around my opening. In no time I

am writhing. Apparently pleased with his prowess he hums against

me. I would have liked to enjoy this attention for a long time,

but I'm already very close and there is no way in hell I'm

asking him to slow down.



His long arms have no problem reaching around my belly to

squeeze my breasts. When I groan at the new contact, he tugs

gently on my nipple. That added input is all I need. When he

feels me start to tremble he sucks my clit between his lips.

My orgasm comes in waves, each a little less violent than the

last. Once I stop shuddering and my clit has stopped throbbing, I

drag my eyes open. I can't see him, my belly is in the way.



"Wow," I breathe.



"I'll say," he chuckles. He sits up and then helps me up as well.

"Are you willing to admit now that the pizza man still has it?"



"Yes, you've still got it," I stroke his ego. "And you put the

pizza out of my reach. Could you hand me slice? That made me

hungry," I grin slyly at him.



I have finished two pieces before he's done with one. That may

have more to do with the lack of animal products as toppings

than a difference in our appetites.



"Would you like something to drink?" I ask when I'm well my

third slice. "There's iced tea in the fridge."



"It must be love," he winks at me.



"Must be," I say through a mouthful of pizza.



When he gets up, I hand him the remains of my third slice.



"This may be hard to believe, but my eyes are bigger than my

stomach. I can't eat another bite," I sigh and lean back.



He chuckles as he heads to the kitchen. As he is rummaging around

in the fridge I can feel my eyes growing heavy. The combination

of my orgasm and a full stomach has taken its toll. I'm aware that

he is back and saying something, but I'm too groggy to make it

out. The last thing I am conscious of before sleep overtakes me

is a blanket being tucked around my still-naked form.



end





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