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A Stiff One & 10 by ShannonK
A Stiff One
From: Shannon <> Date: Mon, 21 May 2001 23:46:23 -0700 Subject: A Stiff One by ShannonK Source: direct
A Stiff One by ShannonK
Archive: Sure! Just keep these headers intact and drop me a line to let me know. 🙂
Summary: It’s my first crack at a first time story! cue scary music
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance
Disclaimer and author’s notes at the end.
A Stiff One by ShannonK
I hear the heavy sigh from across the room, feel my own bones weigh heavily in my body. His chair scrapes across the floor and I hear the creak as he leans it back on its two hind legs. Someday they’re going to snap or buckle or whatever dying chair legs do, and he’s going to bop his head against his “I Want To Believe” poster and get a concussion. I steal a glance in his direction. He’s playing with the knot in his tie. <Just pull on it, Mulder,> I think. <Enough already. This day is done. Loosen your tie and call it quits so we both can go home.>
It has been one shitty week. We fucked up the Randel case but good and got an earful from the Skin Man. That was just delicious. A real high point in both our careers. In a nutshell, [Agents Scully and Mulder, you totally fucked up, get out of my face, and don’t let me see you out of that basement for two weeks.] We’ve been grounded, essentially. No field work, no running off on an X-File, just fourteen days of busy work shoved down our throats. It’s disheartening to say the least. And here we are, finally at Friday afternoon, sitting like kids in detention waiting for the bell to ring so we can slink home in a haze of self-deprecation.
“I’m sorry, Scully.” I jerk my head up at Mulder’s voice. Neither one of us has spoken for hours and it sounds eerily loud in the small room.
“Why, Mulder?” My eyebrows rise at his apology. I look at him expectantly, yet I’m too dog-tired to really pull it off.
“‘Cause I’m the one who fucked up, not you. You don’t deserve the punishment and you certainly didn’t deserve to be chewed out by Skinner. It’s my damned fault.” There it is, that damned guilty look that manages to exasperate me, make me want to cuddle him to my chest and stroke his head, and also makes my pulse quicken with desire.
“Jesus, Mulder, this was so not your fault. We were on the same page on this case. I wanted to tail Gaskett instead of Randel just like you., so please don’t get all guilty on me. I’m a grown woman and your partner and I’m as much to blame. Now let’s just try to forget this mess and get out of here.”
“Still…” Mulder is continuing to pout, fiddling with his tie.
I get up from my chair, smoothing my skirt down over my legs. Mulder’s eyes lift to watch my movements as I come over to perch on the corner of his desk. “Mulder.” My tone is admonishing, but soft. “It’s 4:45. It’s the weekend. The case is over. We’ve been given our reprimand. Let’s just get out of here.”
“What? Together?” He seems to brighten at the thought. I hadn’t really meant that we should do something together, but it doesn’t seem like a bad idea, so….
“Well…sure, Mulder. Why not?” I am quickly warming to the idea of letting off some steam with Mulder. “You know, I could use a drink.” His eyebrows shoot up. “A stiff one.” His mouth drops open and I see his recognition of my unintentional innuendo before he slams his jaw shut. I pretend not to notice. “You wanna get a drink with me, Mulder?”
His Adam’s apple shifts as he gulps. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, a drink. That’d be good.” He smiles crookedly at me, making me feel warm and somewhat tingly, like when Susie Ramone rubbed her hand against my panties in her closet in 4th grade. “I’ll even buy.”
“Great. It’s a date.” Now why did I say that? I quickly avert my eyes from his, unsure whether or not it’s safe to look into those hazel orbs. Flirting could be dangerous right now with alcohol looming so imminently in our future. I go about gathering my briefcase’s contents together: the latest issue of Scientific American, my New York Times, the palm pilot Bill got me for Christmas, my nail file, undirtied Starbucks mug (forest green with a no-spill lid)…. They all go unceremoniously into my unimaginative, tan Samsonite. A date. Maybe he won’t take that statement too seriously. I’m surprised at the disappointment that’s coursing through me at the thought that he might not take it seriously. I start wondering if it’s too late to back out. This could get quite uncomfortable.
Ever since that New Year’s kiss, my awareness of him has been heightened. We’ve flirted even more than normal, touched under the pretense of innocence, a hand on the arm that lasts 5 seconds too long here, a peck on the cheek there, his hand at my back all the time now as we walk, even that one time a couple weeks ago when I’d laughed out loud at a lame joke of his and slapped him lightly on the chest. The friendly touch had quickly turned into a lingering caress as my fingers had descended down his dress shirt, eyes following in their wake, my smile fading. Too late I caught myself and jerked my hand away, braving a look at his face. He had looked smug for about half a second and then nothing. I thought I might even have imagined his pleased reaction. It’s getting harder and harder to act like he doesn’t turn me on, like I’m not starting to want more of him, to require it.
And now we’re going to add booze into the mix. At my request. Oh, brother. I’ll be lucky to get through the evening without attacking the man. Maybe he’ll attack me first and the pressure will be off.
Mulder practically rips his tie from his neck and over his head, unbuttons two buttons on his shirt, slings his jacket over his shoulder, and places that large, too-warm hand at my lower back to guide me out of the office and down the hall. His hand is too low in fact. A ghost of a pinkie finger is just resting on the top of the crease of my ass, the very tip situating itself nicely between the flesh of my cheeks through my skirt. <Oh god. Breathe. Don’t pant. Breathe.> My heart starts to thud anxiously in my chest. I feel my creamy arousal begin to soak my panties, feel my nipples come to attention, silently begging for his touch there also.
Feeling like a very bad girl, I keep my pace slow as to not walk out of his hand. I shamelessly want to feel that finger for as long as possible. I fight the urge to arch my lower back, silently pleading for him go lower, then lower, to finger fuck me up against the wall right here, right now. If Mulder only knew the thoughts that sometimes go through my mind, he’d have a very different opinion of his all-too-proper partner.
He’s never put his hand right there before. I have to wonder if he’s doing this on purpose. Is he trying to gauge my reaction to his dismissal of that physical boundary? I chance a look up at him. He looks normal, like Mulder, face blank except….except for that tiny section of lower lip he has gripped between his teeth. So something’s making him tense. And hey. Something’s making him sweat. I watch as a bead of perspiration slides down his neck and into the hollow of his throat. I ogle him with hooded eyes, wanting nothing more than to lean up and lick it slowly off of his sweet and salty skin and into my mouth.
“Uh, Scully?” Mulder’s hand on my back/butt squeezes a little bit and I yelp.
“I could hold this elevator door open all day, but I think it’d be easier if you just got in now,” he smirks.
“Oh. Sorry.” It’s lame and I know it. He knows. I just know he knows. And I’d’ve felt embarrassed enough to just melt into a puddle on the floor, except for one thing. As the elevator doors shut on us, his hand is still there.
I have one recurring thought as we ride to the parking garage. <She’s letting me do it. I can’t believe she’s letting me do it. I’ve got my hand on her ass. I’ve got my fucking finger in Scully’s ass! And she’s letting me do it.> I’m high on it. And scared. I feel sick and aroused both at once.
It had started out as an accident. My mind was elsewhere when I went for my usual guiding gesture at Scully’s back. When my hand encountered the beginning swell of her tight, sweet ass, I froze. I couldn’t take my hand away. And I sure as hell didn’t want to. After a fearful 10 seconds of waiting for her to slap me or give me the Scully death-ray eye, I allowed myself to breathe again and to let the sensations wash over me like cognac. I could feel the indentation between her cheeks with my finger. She had to feel it! It was just too obvious. Too intimate. Too much of an erogenous zone. The more I thought about it on our unnecessarily slow walk down the hall, the more I was sure she did feel it. Her breathing was a little off. Gone was the purposeful walk away from the office, her usual I’m-getting-the-hell-out stride. She was being down right leisurely. Plus, her lips were parted in that sexy way she has and her eyes, though not looking at me, spoke volumes. There was an inner struggle going on in Scully. She sure as hell knew. And she was letting me do it!
We got to the elevator, the doors opening quickly. I stood holding the door, waiting for Scully to take her cue and go in before me. She wasn’t moving. I looked down at her to see what the hold up was. She was staring at my throat. And as I watched her stare, her little tongue snaked out and touched at her upper lip near the corner. My crotch twitched to life. I smiled and pressed my little finger gently into her crease. It was bad, I knew, but her little yelp of surprise and arousal was oh so good.
I’m going to have to take my hand away when we get to the cars. I don’t want to. I don’t want to break this spell. We seem to have been displaced into an alternate universe where Scully and I can over-step the nice little unspoken boundaries we’ve set up and get to some serious flirting. In fact, we seem to be in that universe a lot lately — ever since New Year’s when I kissed her and she’d closed her eyes and melded her lips to mine. Things have been different between us and I’m enjoying the change, but this is something all together different. This is not just a touch on the arm. This is me touching Scully in an untouchable place and both of us, (I hope!) getting off on it. I don’t think I’m mistaking the fact that Scully’s turned on. I’m just having a hard time believing that it’s because of me and my one little, blissed-out finger.
We stop by my car and stand staring at it. I’m not turning to face her. No way I’m moving this hand! I hope she doesn’t think this is too weird. This is pretty damned weird. But she’s not moving either. We’re awkwardly standing here facing the car, as though waiting for it to give us instructions, kind of like in that Steve Martin movie, L.A. Story, where the car drives itself to the signpost that insists it’s been reincarnated from a bagpipe.
And my hand’s on Scully’s ass. I fight back a chuckle.
Finally, Scully speaks. “It seems silly to take two cars, Mulder. Why don’t I just ride you?”
“I said why don’t I just ride with you, Mulder?”
“Oh. Okay.” Fucking Christ! My cock is getting very seriously hard. Did I imagine that little slip of the tongue? Does she even realize what she said?
“You gonna open the door or what?”
Shit. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, Scully.” And my hand is gone. We both let out small groans of disappointment. In the cave of the parking garage it comes out much louder than I intended. Scully blushes furiously and quickly steps into the waiting passenger seat. I shut her door and go around the front of the car, hoping my erection isn’t as painfully obvious to Scully as it is to me. Maybe alcohol would be just the thing to dull this ache I’ve got going for my partner. Better make it strong. This is one serious ache.
Mulder’s almost choking on his own spit. “You wanna go WHERE?”
“Is it so hard to fathom, Mulder?” What am I, the good little Catholic girl to him? Doesn’t he remember seeing my tattoo?
“Well, since when you do frequent places like The Club, Scully?”
“I’ve been several times! They play great music and make really amazing cu…drinks.”
“Cu…drinks?” Mulder mimics me. “What were you going to say, Scully? What kind of really amazing drinks do they make?” He stops at the red light and throws a playful look in my direction. I’m turning pink, I know it.
I clear my throat. I will not back down. I’ll say this if it kills me. “They make a really amazing Cum on a Rug.” I look up at Mulder defiantly, one eyebrow quirked. He just stares at me, his eyes turning a shade darker as I stare hard back into them. The black seems to go on forever and I feel myself being drawn into them. He’s so damned sexy. I look back out the windshield. The light is green.
“Huh?” He’s still looking at me. My insides flutter with the knowledge that I’ve shocked him.
“The light is green, Mulder. Sheesh.”
Just then there is an obnoxious honk behind us. Mulder mutters an oath and hits the gas. We’re headed to my apartment so that I can change. He turns right at the next light and serpentines his way to Georgetown. I sigh and let my head rest against the grey tweed-like cushion behind me as Mulder maneuvers easily and quickly through D.C. rush hour. It’s not long before we pull up in front of my building and I lay a hand on his thigh.
“I’ll just be a minute. Do you want to come up?”
“Sure,” he says, his leg muscles tensing beneath my hand. It’s just my hand on his thigh, but his response is powerful and obvious. I see his cock begin to tent his pants. Mulder’s cock. Just thinking those two words together arouses me. I want to say them, see how they feel in my mouth, hear what they sound like coming from my throat, feel how my lips form the letters, gauge his reaction to me saying it. Jesus. I know if I had a dick it’d be rock hard, too, right now.
I get out of the car, fleeing the scene, and I’m halfway up the steps, keys in hand when I realize he’s still in the car, looking out the passenger side door at me. “You coming?” I toss over my shoulder.
He mumbles something as he unbuckles his seatbelt. I think it is “Just about.”
I sit on Scully’s sofa, feeling her palm print on my slacks, seeping under like some powerful, feminine acid, scorching my skin. Is this what she feels when I touch her? I’m almost afraid if someday we make love. I think we might be like Darren Peter Oswald, pulling the electricity out of the sky, igniting each other with fire-laced fingertips. I want that if to be a when. I want that when to be tonight. I don’t care if it does kill us. What a way to die. Buried in Scully’s burning body and frying.
I pass a hand over my face, pulling at my jaw. There is tension even in my teeth. It started as work-related, but over the course of the last half hour has become entirely sexual in nature. Scully has always undone me from that moment so long ago when she came to my hotel room and dropped her robe for me, clad only in her undies. There has never been a time when I didn’t want her. It’s just that the force of my wanting her has increased with the years of knowing her, being with her, and loving her only makes it so much worse. Or better. Sometimes I forget which it is.
I don’t know what she wants from tonight. It’s entirely possible she just wants some company and a drink, wants to bash the Bureau, and tell dirty jokes, then come home to her nice oak and potpourri filled apartment to sleep it off and start all over again as buttoned down Scully on Monday morning. I make up my mind not to touch her again tonight unless she makes an overture. I think this really needs to be her thing.
She comes back into the living room. Her arms and shoulders are bare as is her neck and a good portion of her chest. She’s in a tight, soft, black, V-necked, light sweater and a black, mid-thigh skirt. There is so much Scullyleg and Scullycleavage I want to cry. I have half a mind to crawl off the sofa and over to her, running my hands up her tight calves, her beautiful thighs, up inside her skirt, to bury my face in her moist curls. But I won’t. I can’t. She’s unbearably stunning and sexier than any woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, but it will have to be her move tonight. I won’t fuck this up, not like I’ve fucked up at the office. It’s Scully’s call and even though I hope this outfit of hers is somehow meant as a come on to me, I’m going to need something more obvious. Like her tongue down my throat.
“You look…perfect, Scully.”
She smiles at me and motions toward the door. “Ready, Mulder?”
Ready if you are, Scully.
I’m so goddamned ready. Mulder’s throat works as he swallows down his Cum on a Rug. I watch his throat for the second time today, for the hundredth time this month. He has thrown his head back as the strange, strawberry milk-looking mix of alcohol slides out of the glass and into his mouth. I can tell he shaved this morning, but there’s the beginning of a shadow creeping across his jaw and neck and it gives him a dark sensuality that has me gawking and not really caring that I’m gawking. I’m about to fall off my chair, it’s so hot.
It is dark in the bar, a faint, red tint from three overhead lights blushes Mulder’s face. The music pounds around, over, beneath, inside us. Several people crowd the dance floor under the more manic green, blue, purple, and gold lights. The mirror on the far wall near the DJ’s booth bounces the illumination back toward the bar and our skin and clothes flicker in otherworldly light.
I’m on my second shot and I’m feeling warm and wonderful sitting on this bar stool, my legs crossed between Mulder’s wide knees, my elbow leaning on the bar, head propped on my hand. I decided I was ready way before the first drink. I think I decided way back in the office. I was clear-headed, sober, and I made the decision to fuck Mulder tonight. I feel kind of relieved at finally having made the decision. But the relief hasn’t stopped the blood pounding in my head, thudding where my thighs press together. It hasn’t stopped this breathless feeling. And it hasn’t stopped my nerves by a long shot. I have no idea how I’m going to get Mulder into bed. He wants me. I know that. But I think he’s scared of us, of screwing up what we have, and I don’t know how to get around that. Maybe with a few more drinks, I’ll get up the courage to make my intentions known.
I feel the start of The Beastie Boys’ “Intergalactic” vibrate in my chest.
“Good?” I ask, smiling.
“Fuck,” Mulder hisses. “You drink these, Scully?”
“You sat there and watched me, Mulder!”
“Yeah, but…. Damn.” I think Mulder’s starting to feel the effects of the shot. It’s powerful stuff. I like seeing Mulder tipsy. I’m beginning to feel a bit unbalanced myself. Like maybe I could topple off my chair right into him. How unpartnerly of me.
“Okay, okay. You get to pick the next round, Mulder. What’ll it be?”
“You’ll drink whatever I pick?” He’s looking at me like a little boy.
I lean in, putting my hand heavily against the back of his neck. I look up at him through my eyelashes and deepen my voice. “Mulder. I’ll do whatever you say.” His eyes drop to my mouth and I smile. I think I’m doing an okay job of seducing Mulder.
“I think it’s time for tequila,” he says to my mouth.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I practically purr at him. I take my hand from his neck to search through my bag for more money. His hand on my arm stops me.
“Unh unh.” He shakes his head. “I told you I’d buy. What kind of lousy date would I be if I didn’t?” Then to the bartender, “Two shots of Cuervo, please, and two Bohemias.”
“A shot for you,” the bartender says pouring the silky, gold liquid into a shot glass and putting it in front of Mulder before doing the same for me. “And one for your lovely girlfriend.” Mulder avoids looking at me for a moment, but his unending curiosity gets the best of him and he peeks. I smile at him reassuringly. The sweating bottles of cold beer come down before us and I have to wonder if I’m going to regret this later.
In a bar ritual as old as agave, or possibly just higher education, Mulder and I studiously take our lime wedges from our shot glasses, resting them on cocktail napkins emblazoned with cartoons of maces from the Middle Ages, the name of the bar beneath them in slashing, black letters —“The Club”. Cute. We lick the backs of our hands beneath our thumbs, take turns shaking the salt there, take our limes with the same salt-hands, take our glasses with the others. It’s like riding a bike.
“What’ll we drink to, Scully?”
I don’t expect he’ll mind my predictability. “Us,” I say with finality.
“To us,” he echoes in a voice that really comes from his chest. It’s beautiful. Like Saint-Saens.
“And The Beastie Boys,” I add.
“Naturally.” Mulder raises his glass to me. I clink it. Lick. Drink. Suck. Hot damn.
It’s poetry in motion She turned her tender eyes to me As deep as any ocean As sweet as any harmony But she blinded me with science
“Oh my God!” she yells, smiling.
“Scully, this is so your song.”
“Come dance with me, Mulder!” She’s up off her stool, taking my hand in hers, pleading with her eyes, dragging me into the shimmering sphere of the disco ball. We’ve been drinking for a couple hours, talking, laughing. I just know this is the work of some giant underground fungus. Scully and I aren’t allowed to have fun. We’re too complex, our job too important. But here we are anyway, seven years of unfun build up eking out and away through our pores. God, the last time we danced was at that Cher concert. I suppose Scully and I are way beyond due. I smile at her as we reach the middle of the dance floor. She looks giddy. I haven’t seen her smile so much…ever. I like that she’s letting me in and allowing us to be together like this.
When I’m dancing close to her “Blinding me with science – science” I can smell the chemicals “Blinding me with science – science”
I’ve had enough drinks now to go to plan B, which is to ignore plan A, which was something ridiculous about not touching her. I take her small, soft hips in my hands and pull her close to me. It’s in the damned song. I have to do it. We are looking into each others’ eyes. Her arms go over her head as she sways, her breasts lifting intoxicatingly. Then she brings her hands down to my forearms before sliding them up to my shoulders, down my chest, around my waist, onto my… “Scully!”
She waggles her eyebrows at me, fingers firmly sunk into my ass. “Mulder?”
Okay. That’s my cue. Two can play at this game. I let my hands slip down her hips, around her back, and I gently cup the globes of her perfect, little butt. Then I squeeze. Hard. She gasps.
And there we are, holding each others’ asses in The Club on a Friday night after getting yelled at by our boss and after too many drinks and after seven years of not touching each others’ asses and it’s too much for either one of us. We bust out laughing our ever-loving asses off.
“Mulller,” she slurs. “You’ve got your hands on my butt.”
“You touched me first.”
“Nuh unh. You touched my ass at the office!”
“That was different. That was an accident,” I cover, still hanging onto her posterior like a lifeline.
“It was?” she pouts. Ah fuck, I can’t take the Scully lip pout. I’m doomed. I’m a doomed man. She must know we’ve not only gone over the friend line tonight, but we’re running away from the line as fast as we can. Maybe one of us should point that out just so we’re clear on what’s going on and there’s no confusion.
Numerous tequila shots fire my resolve. “At first it was. But then it wasn’t. You know? Scully, I fucking love your ass.”
Her face goes soft like that’s the most romantic thing to ever be uttered. “Really?” she asks shyly.
“Yeah. Really.” Neither one of us moves our hands, but she takes a step closer to me. We were close before. I should say, she takes a step into me, because in her heels, her abdomen makes the most seductive contact with my crotch and she leans in to bury her face in the vee of my dress shirt, her lips opening slightly against the skin just below my collar bone. She kisses me there, long and slow and drunk, her tongue darting out to lick my skin, her lips again closing over the wet mark she’s made before making another one.
It’s poetry in motion And now she’s making love to me The spheres are in commotion The elements in harmony
I sigh and drop my face into her hair, breathing in freesia and musk and Scullyness. “Oh, Scully.” My hands rise up her back, cradle her little winged shoulder blades, thumbs near the outsides of her breasts. “That feels so good. I want to kiss you there, too, baby.”
She whimpers and draws back, lust glowing in her eyes like a million mating fire flies.
But it’s poetry in motion And when she turned her eyes to me As deep as any ocean As sweet as any harmony She blinded me with science She blinded me with….
As the music changes and I feel Mulder’s body everywhere it touches my own, a wave of euphoria, dizziness, pheremones…Mulder crashes over me. I’m in his arms, he in mine, and a familiar beat thuds up through my legs, moves my hands from Mulder’s hard butt, moves one to his hip, one to his ribs.
I haven’t heard this in so long. I may have to tip the DJ later for playing it. I look at Mulder, into his eyes, looking for recognition. <Is this your song for me, Mulder? Isn’t this what tonight is about? Do you want it as much as I do? Or are we just playing here?> I need him to know I’m dead fucking serious. I fit one of my legs between his, making his thigh press hard between my legs, into my center, and making my hip push into his, whoa!, fully erect cock. I allow my hands to move over him slowly, testing this, as we start to move against each other.
you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you, you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you help me I broke apart my insides, help me i’ve got no soul to sell help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself
i want to fuck you like an animal i want to feel you from the inside i want to fuck you like an animal my whole existence is flawed you get me closer to god
The beat picks up an extra bit of noise. This song has always reminded me of Ravel’s Bolero, how it starts simple, picks up new sound along the way — synthesizer hitchhikers — picks up intensity, overwhelms you. Right now I feel like the song is moving my hands along Mulder’s body. I can’t seem to touch him enough. I know we are in public, though the lighting is a strange mixture of dim and chaotic making it hard to see, and the bodies are all around us now, immersed in each other. No one cares about the sweaty, heavy breathing couple near the glossy mirror, feeling each other up and grinding against each other to Nine Inch Nails.
My hips swing languidly back and forth creating friction against my clit and against his cock. Mulder groans into my neck and his right hand comes up to cup my breast through my shirt.
“Mulder…” I sigh into his shoulder, bite it.
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything help me tear down my reason, help me it’s your sex i can smell help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else
I hear myself say it. “I wanna fuck you like an animal.”
His gasp frightens me. I feel like I’ve gone too far. Like we’ve been encased in a slippery, fragile, iridescent bubble and my words have punctured it and sent us reeling away from each other. In the next moment he saves me.
“I wanna feel you from the inside.”
I look into his face. He looks like a naughty little kid. “Mulder, kiss me.”
And dear Jesus, he does! And it’s nothing like New Year’s. His mouth comes down on mine hard, opening my lips with his, and his tongue strokes mine in rhythm to the music. I reach my hands around his neck. We kind of stumble, vying for position with each other, and he manages to crush me up against the mirror while he softens every bone in my body with that amazing mouth of his.
through every forest, above the trees within my stomach, scraped off my knees i drink the honey inside your hive you are the reason I stay alive
He fills me, his tongue pushing and pulling, yet allowing me to do the same. My breasts are flattened against his body. My legs are trembling. Somewhere my brain warns that now is the time to take this elsewhere. But the beat is pounding and with each thrust of his tongue, each whiff of burnt, chocolatey, fake fog through the vents and the scent of Mulder’s sweat, with each place we collide with each other, I am lost more. I moan helplessly into his mouth and his hand hits the mirror behind me, rattling it, squeaking as it slides down, smearing his perspiration down the glass. His other hand grabs the back of my thigh and jerks up putting his cock in direct contact with my wet opening, skirt hiked up; he’s against my underwear. Our clothes are really starting to piss me off.
Reluctantly yet with conviction, I push Mulder away from me. He looks feral. I feel feral. My mouth is open, jaw tense, breathing difficult, pupils dilated. Without a word, I pull him from the dance floor.
“Scully?” He is confused…thinks I’m calling it off.
“You’re going to take me home now, Mulder.” He slows behind me, tugging slightly, trying to free his wrist from my hand. I’ve said it wrong. I turn to him. “You’re going to take me home with you,” I clarify. A wicked smile curls his lips. I’m dizzy with it and too much to drink.
The music changes again just before we’re out the door. It’s The Divinyls, “I Touch Myself”.
“This, Mulder,” I say as I pull him along, “has been my song for you…for seven long years.”
She was all over me in the car. I’m really glad we made it home without taking out every other car on the road not to mention the pedestrians. I’m pretty bad about watching for them anyway. I drive right into crosswalks all the time. When Scully dove for my pants and tried to go down on me , I almost offed a little old woman with a walker and I did barrel over a few orange cones. Luckily, I managed to convince her that if she wanted to stay alive to participate in the actual sex, she might want to delay the tongue bath.
I’m crazy about this woman.
We make it out of the car and into my building with most of our clothes on. Scully did get three buttons undone on my shirt while I keyed open the outer door. Now, here we are in the elevator kissing like fiends. Scully’s mouth is soft. I knew it would be. It’s also strong. She matches my ferocity with her own, her tongue aggressive, then docile the next moment as she lets me feast on her. She tastes like honey and tequila. Her enthusiastic moans are making me want to go ahead and push between her legs and into her so I’ll know what kind of sound that gets. If I were in control at all, I’d slow things down. I don’t want to miss one breathless gasp, one syllable of my name on her lips, one tease of her fingers against my nipples. She has her hands inside my gaping shirt now and she’s pinching them. I break our marathon kiss.
“Is that what you’d like me to do to you? Pinch your nipples, Scully?”
Her knees actually give out. I catch her as she crumples, a tortured groan making its way out of her throat.
“You okay, Scully?” The elevator doors open on my floor.
“Yeah,” she half-whispers. “You just took me by surprise that’s all.” She’s on her own feet again, but I haven’t released her. She feels too good in my arms. We start to stumble out into the hallway, me walking forward outside her legs, her walking backwards and gazing up into my eyes. She’s smiling. God, she looks like a woman in love. “I’m just not used to you talking about my nipples, Mulder.” She giggles.
“Well, I guess I’m used to thinking about them, so it’s not weird to me.” I wink at her. She swivels us around so that she is the driving force propelling us toward my doorway. She leans up to kiss me and I slam up against something hard, knocking us both off balance. Shit. Mr. Zamir’s door. We ricochet off, still clutching at each other. I hear the pounding of feet and muffled cursing. I yell out a pre-emptive strike, “Sorry!”
As we shuffle clumsily away, the door flies open and Mr. Zamir’s red face peers out. “What the..?!”
“We’re sorry,” Scully smiles at him, her blush becoming her and, our predicament obvious, Mr. Zamir rolls his eyes and slams his door shut again. Scully and I look at each other and start laughing like loons. “Are we sorry?” Scully whispers at me.
“Not that I know of,” I whisper back.
“No, I don’t think we are. We’re bad, Mulder.” She fake pouts. We’ve made it to the door. I thank God or Skinner or Corn Flakes, whatever got me to this point today. My dick is swollen with blood and want and my head is swimming with Scullysmell. My ears can only hear her laugh. She is sunken into my skin like hot oil, lubricating me so that we move smoothly against each other. I push her up against the door and fumble for the right key while she takes my cock through my pants and strokes me up and down. I hiss and my eyes roll back in my head. I lean my forehead against the door and grit my teeth.
“Scu….God, Scully.” I grope her ass through her skirt and shove my hips into her, ramming her hand. I am engorged. This really can’t go on for much longer. “No, wait. Really. We should go inside. If this is going to be at all good for you, I need to slow you down.”
She grins impishly and curls her fingers around my neck instead, kneading like a kitten.
“You’re so pretty.”
I laugh at her. “Scully, you’re drunk.” I finally find the right key and I unlock my door, pushing inside, Scully grabbing at the collar of my shirt as she backs in, her eyes on my lips.
“Maybe a little, but I’ve always thought you were pretty.”
“What’s always?” I have to ask.
“Basement. FBI’s most unwanted. Mmmm, glasses. So pretty.” She leans up and kisses my jaw.
“I don’t know if we should do this.” I hate myself. The last thing I feel like being right now is a gentleman.
“I do,” she sighs.
“You can’t be sure of that in your condition.”
She pulls away from me. My hands fall to my sides. She looks at me for a moment before taking a step back away from me and planting her hands on her hips.
“Mulder, when did you know you wanted me?” I see in her eyes a hint of recrimination, fire, determination.
“You mean as more than my partner?” Duh.
“Yes. When did you want me, Mulder? Really want me…want to rip my clothes off, throw me down on your desk, and bang the shit out of me.”
The image is so powerful; I almost can’t speak. I have to take a shaky breath. “I can’t remember ever not wanting that.”
“And you’ve had a few drinks tonight. Do you not want me now?”
“No, Scully. I….I want you.”
“Then know it about me, Mulder. Know that I have wanted this for a very long time. That I have waited for it! Waited for you to be ready! Trust me when I tell you that I won’t regret it.” Her voice softens. “I want you to make love to me. I want to keep touching you. Now that I can, Mulder, I can’t get enough of touching you.” She steps forward hesitantly and touches my arm, looking up into my eyes with such a look of longing. It resembles pain.
“I want you to touch me,” I tell her. “I want to touch you so much…so much, Scully. I’m sorry I questioned you.”
She threads her fingers through my hair with one hand and cups my face with the other, looking into, behind my eyes. It’d be creepy, a real X-File, if it weren’t her. “Mulder, I don’t need you to be chivalrous tonight. I don’t need you looking out for my best interests and doing what you think is the right thing. I don’t want you to be the nice guy you think I need. I want you to be Mulder.”
I frown, unsure if I’ve been insulted. She goes on non-non-plussed, pulling, luring me back toward the couch. “I need my partner. The man…” she waivers only momentarily but my breath is caged in my lungs for what seems like 7 more years. “The man I love. If you think I’m vulnerable, fine. Take advantage of me. Do what you want with me. Make it slow, make it hard, make it angry, make it wet. Standing, sitting, humping, laughing, screaming, coming all over me, whatever. Call it what you want, but fuck me, Mulder. Right or wrong, just fuck me.”
I must have triggered something because I think he’s going to push me down to the couch, but instead he ducks his shoulder into my middle and hoists me into the air, my head dangling over his back. My hands grip his ass for balance. And he’s carrying me into the bedroom.
I smile into his lumbar spine. Each step bounces my chest against his back, shaping my nipples into tight buds. My skirt has risen up and I feel air against my cheeks and upper thighs. Soon I am deposited on Mulder’s bed and he’s standing, looming, over me like…a very tall, gorgeous loomer. He pulls his shirt over his head and I sit up to help him with his pants. I undo the buckle of his belt with trembling fingers and he takes my head between his hands. The posturing is so intimate — it screams blow job — and I look up to see if he knows it, if he wants me to take him into my mouth. I rip his belt from his pants and it cracks like a whip. I cry out and one corner of his full lips turns upward. I drop the belt, laughing uneasily. “Maybe next time.” That gets me an eyebrow, an expression he learned from me.
I unzip his pants letting my knuckles drag across his length. I don’t look away from his eyes. “Can I suck you off, Mulder?”
I see a thousand things in his face, in the way his pectorals tense and ripple, in how he mouths my name but no sound comes out. I lick my lips in anticipation.
“Sc…Scully. I don’t want that to be the end of it. I want to be able to be inside you. I want to come there.”
I nod my agreement. “I want to feel how you fill me. You’re going to feel so good.” I place my face against his belly, my hands at his waist. I kiss around his navel, breathing him in deep.
“Yeah, no pressure now, huh?” he laughs.
I smile up at him. “Relax, Mulder.”
“Relax? I’m about to make love to you, Scully. I’ve been thinking about this for years.”
“Ah, so there’s pressure for me, too, I see,” I throw back at him. It feels good to hit volleys at one another in the sack. It’s not so different from the office really. Except less clothes and more nookie. I laugh out loud at the silliness. I push his pants past his hips and he bends to remove his shoes and take his pants the rest of the way off.
“Scully. I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Just seeing you on my bed trumps every fantasy I’ve ever had. Everything from here on out is a bonus.”
I inch back up the bed, until I can lie back against the pillows. He drops his boxers and now Mulder is naked and I am fully dressed. Somehow I still feel like the one exposed. I can’t suppress the strangled squeak I make as I now get to see Mulder in full, erect glory.
He looks panicked. “What’s wrong, Scully?”
“GoddamnnotathingMulder,” I breathe out in a rush. “You’re just…” I can’t stop staring at his dick. “You’re…big.”
He looks down at himself and back up at me, male pride sparking his mossy golden eyes. “You like?”
I smile at how pleased I have made him. “Oh yeah, Mulder.”
He does a little butt-wiggling, thumb-poking dance and I roll my eyes and hold out my hand. “Get over here, Spooky.”
He behaves and kneels on the bed. It sinks under his considerable weight. “These hafta go, Scully.” He’s fingering my shoes. He slips one then the other off my feet, then throws them both recklessly over his shoulders, one hits the dresser and one the wall before thunking to the floor. He takes my left foot in both his huge hands and kisses the heel, then the sensitive arch. I cannot repress my giggle. “Mulder….”
“Ticklish, Scully?” He sucks my big toe into his mouth.
I lurch off the bed involuntarily. His tongue swirls around my toe while his thumbs push at the ball of my foot, massaging me.
“Do you know where those feet have been, Mulder?” I pant
“Inside those Do-Me-Now shoes. Scully, your feet taste good.”
I laugh. That has got to be a lie.
“‘Strue,” he murmurs as he blinks slowly and pays homage to my other toes, kissing the tips of them, while tickling my calf. “You’ve got great feet. Sexy little ankles.”
I hum and relax into his ministrations. He makes his way up my leg a little farther with his hand then follows with his lips.
“Scully, I live to see you walk into our office in your skirts. Sometimes just the sight of your calves can make me hard.”
“What about the pant suits? You don’t like the pant suits?”
“Oh, Scully. You’re so unbearably hot in pants. You look like you could grill a suspect without blinking, kick some poor fucker’s ass, then go out to dinner at a nice restaurant.”
“And then fuck you, of course,” I say as he nibbles underneath my knee.
“Rip my clothes off.”
He laughs, a low rumble in his chest, and runs his hands up my legs and under my skirt. Before I know what’s what, his hands close around the fabric of my panties and I hear them rip in two as he literally tears them from my body. I cry out with shock. I am stunned both that he did it and that now, as Mulder pushes my skirt up farther, I am so very exposed to him; he can see it all. I look away from him, suddenly quite shy but wanting his eyes and his appraisal and needing it nearly as much as I need his touch. I shift my legs apart about an inch more. God, I have never felt this naked! And I still have my shirt on!
Mulder’s breath catches in his throat. I cannot look at him to see what that might mean. I can’t figure out what to do with my hands. They clinch into fists and release like the gaping mouths of fish out of water. I feel vulnerable and wet and swollen and open and I want so badly for Mulder to approve. I want the sight of my bared pussy to please him.
“Scully….” I close my eyes, waiting for something that sounds slightly patronizing. “Scully, please look at me.” Reluctantly I do. He reaches for my face with one hand, delicately cupping my cheek and traces a faint and reverent line down the outside of my labia with the other, looking between my face and my vagina as he sighs.
“You are far and away the most beautiful creature on this earth.” And he means it. He means it and I love him. I turn my face into his hand and kiss his palm, a tear escaping the corner of my eye, meandering a trail toward my ear.
He drops his head to my vee, into the hair there, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I love your smell. You’re like butter and wine and…you.” He steals his hand from my mouth, sneaks it under my hiked up skirt, begins to massage my lower abdomen with the flat of it, and his other fingers sift through my curls in worship, tickling me and loosening something that connects my lower back to my womb to my heart. I go a bit softer as I relax into his touch and my inner thighs quiver soundlessly. I thread sure fingers through his hair and he nudges the very tip of the hood of my moist clit with his nose, inhaling again. I breathe in controlled pants. <This is Mulder. Mulder touching me. Loving me.>
“Mulder…. Oh, Mulder….”
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes into me. “You cunt is beautiful. I want to lick it, kiss it.”
“I want that, too, Mulder, but I need to finish getting undressed now.” I look down at him apologetically.
Without another word, he gently makes quick work of my skirt and then pulls me to a sitting position in front of him to draw my sweater up over my head and then off of me. I’m left in my lacy black bra. Mulder pulls me so that I straddle him, my sticky, hot folds melding to his hard shaft.
“Oh my God.”
Mulder and I have found a mutual faith.
We look into each others’ eyes, sharing, ecstatic, amazed, blown the fuck away. We are shaking with the power of our combined lust.
“This is…we are…” I struggle.
“Scully, I know.”
We smile. His teeth glow in the darkness of his bedroom. Are my teeth that white? My smile that full of love and the happiness brought by the realization that sex between us is turning out to be actually better than we’d hoped? It must be. Because he’s looking at me like I’ve grown two more heads…and he really likes it. He makes me laugh. The feel of him against my pussy is unreal, but thinking about it being Mulder just tickles the shit out of me. I don’t know why it should. I can’t imagine joining with anybody else. And I’m in awe of us together, respectful of it. But I can’t stop the warble of giggles erupting from me.
“You’re so goddamned hot when you laugh, Scully,” he says as he skims his hands up my trembling ribs to cup my breasts. I’m glad he’s not offended at my mirth. I’m too happy not to laugh. I squeeze my thighs against him, making a new wash of liquid gush from my opening, and he squeezes my breasts through my bra. I smile my I-can’t-wait-til-you-fuck-me smile.
“Why don’t you open your present, Mulder?”
He licks his lips and mutters, “Seven fucking years…” as he unclasps my bra and pushes the straps off my shoulders, letting it fall by the wayside. The look on his face as he stares at my breasts is truly a Kodak moment. I’ve never seen this face exactly. It’s turned on and woozy and drunk and…and… hungry!
“All those suits, Scully. You’ve had these under all those suits.” I have to smile. “Are your tits as soft as they look?”
“Why don’t you try ‘em out?” < IlovethisIlovethisIlovethis!> How can I be so excited and so at ease at the same time?
He groans in surrender and bends to wrap his lips around one nipple while he palms my other breast. His sensuous lips, the ones I often watch while he talks, pull on my nipple then his tongue laves me, warmly circling the areola, then flicking the nub against the roof of his mouth a few delicious times before sucking in earnest, drawing almost my entire breast into his mouth. His fingers pinch my other nipple and I throw my head back and grunt-breathe.
“Oh you’re good, Mulder.” My arms wrap around his head and I grind myself against his cock. The friction drives a muffled sound from his throat and the insides of his mouth tingle around me. I feel his cock grow against me, because of me, so I gyrate against him again, pushing my pussy open against him, down his length, then skimming back up to the head, doing it again when I hear him try to say, “Scully” around my breast. I stroke him with my sex again and again and again and he starts a lazy thrusting, his pre-cum getting lost in my own fragrant juices. His mouth leaves my tit with an audible, wet plop.
“I wanted…to…go down on you,” he pants.
“I know,” I kiss his hairline and caress his strong, broad back. Incredible. “There’ll be time later. Mulder, we have time. Right now…oh god….yeeeees…I want you to be inside me.”
“Feels so good…”
“So good….” I agree on a sigh.
I pull on his immovable shoulders, trying to position his big body on top of me. He’s busy sucking on my neck. “Mulder?”
“I want you on top of me.” I want him to cover me, fill me, dwarf me, to choke me his dick is so far up in me. And when he lowers me to the bed and settles between my legs like he’s home, I bring his mouth down to meet mine.
Her breasts push up into my chest, nipples tickling my hair, soft squoosh of woman, of Scully, more erotic than anything I’ve ever experienced. I feel the undeniable need to plow into her softness, to pump her, to fuck her right up to morning, to kiss her eyelids, stroke her shoulders, whisper sweet nothings. It all hits me at once. I brace myself on my forearms and look down at her flushed face.
“I want to wait. Do you need me to wait?”
“God, Mulder, I don’t want you to wait. I want…” She groans, unable to articulate what her body needs. Her hips buck up to make contact with my groin and she grasps at my biceps greedily. “In…inside me.”
I take myself in hand and guide the head of my penis into her then take her face in my hands and we lock eyes as I push into her at what is for me an excruciatingly glacial rate. But she flinches with each inch, trying to relax to allow me inside, but I can tell it’s hurting her.
“You okay? Need me to stop?”
She shakes her head, a no that doesn’t leave room for question, so I continue to push into her tight passage until I’m all the way in, throbbing against her vaginal walls. A tear slips out of her eye and I’m in great pain knowing I made that.
“Oh Scully. I’m so sorry. It hurts you. My love….” I kiss her nose, her cheeks, her jaw. I stay buried in her, feeling her muscles slowly start to release a bit.
“I’m okay, Mulder. I’m so much more than okay.” She takes my face in her hands now. “It’s just been a long, long time, and…. Mulder, I love the way you feel inside me.” She smiles angelically. “I love you, Mulder.”
“I love you, Scully.” She pulls me down for a kiss, her hips pulling back and I take her cue, sliding out of her all the way then pushing back in. We keep it slow and cautious for a while. It is a tremendously loving exchange, our bodies communicating what we’ve waited so long to say. But then I feel her getting restless, moaning with each stroke, breaking our sweet kisses to arch her neck, lifting her knees to open wider for me, clawing down my back until she’s fondling my ass.
I can’t stop looking at her face as I fuck her. I just can’t believe this is real. I’ve only imagined Scully looking like this and my imagination is so lacking when compared with this vision under me. She’s looking down to see us joining, to watch my hungry cock sliding in and out of her. “Mulder,” she chokes. “Look at us.”
I bend my head to look down at my hips and how they throw themselves at her, desperate to connect, at how her cunt receives my cock, open, accepting, then sucking at my shaft on the up-stroke. The sound of our bodies together deafens me. I am only aware of the wet slap of our thighs and her high-pitched groans contrasted with her beautiful alto murmuring my name incessantly. Seeing Scully’s thighs part for me, her knees reaching for her shoulders, listening to her breathe…. It is almost too much, too perfect.
“I’m ready. Mulder…. Make me come.”
Oh fuck me. I can’t hold back. I start pumping with speed and power. I’m fucking her like a freight train, exhilarated by her responses, by her pulling me into her further, tilting her pelvis just so, shouting my name. “Mulder!”
“Oh yes! Oh, Scully! Shit! LoveyouloveyouloveyouScullyloveyou….”
Suddenly, before I think she’s had a chance to really get there, she is and she’s fluttering around my cock, crying out, arching. It is the most stunning sight I’ve ever seen. In fact, it’s enough to send me hurtling out of control and into her, into her; I come with a force I haven’t felt in years. Scully’s turned me into a teenager. Bless her. It feels so good, to spill my semen into her warmth, to feel her legs hugging me, hands petting my back, my head, my neck. I sink onto her with joy, in a total Scully-induced stupor, and roll us over until she’s splayed on top of me. We’re still connected. I feel her inner walls still pulsing dully around me, taking their sweet time returning to repose.
The world didn’t end.
I feel her kind of hum and laugh at the same time against my chest. It’s like she doesn’t have enough energy to open her mouth to let the sound out. It’s entirely too sexy.
“Mulder. We’re a couple of dorks.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Of all the things I might have expected you to say, Scully, that wasn’t one of them.”
“mmmm. Who else would wait seven years to do what we just did to each other?”
“You do have a point.”
“Oh Jesus, write that one down on the calendar.” She looks up at me, hair curling slightly and falling in a sex-ruffled mess around her face. I smack her ass and she purrs. We look at each other, smiling and enchanted, for long, sweet minutes. My dick finally drifts off to sleep, falling out of her. I pull her head to me and kiss her. I kiss her once, soft as I can, withdrawing to hear her sigh. I kiss her again, licking along her bottom lip, pushing in to taste her. She kisses me back, pressing her breasts into me, her tongue licking over mine and sucking gleefully. I end our kiss and lie back so that I can look into her baby blues.
“Mulder.” She says my name with such love.
“You make me so happy.” I stroke her cheek. Her eyes are sparkling. “Stay with me always.”
“Always,” she echoes, soothing my eyebrows and forehead with her fingers. She soothes my soul and I know I can sleep and she will be in my arms every morning for the rest of our lives.
Feedback gratefully received at ! 🙂
Disclaimer: In some alternate universe I do own these characters. 😉 Mr. Zamir belongs to Will and Grace and its writers/producers. I needed an annoyed and humorless neighbor for Mulder and he was perfect! Thanks! It was either him or Newman from Seinfeld. Speaking of Seinfeld, I have to credit Elaine with the thumb-poking dance. It’s ingeniously hideous.
Author’s Notes: Yeah, so I started all naughty and playful and then got all schmaltzy on you at the end. I make no apologies for the goopy luv. I need to thank Barbara Brush/Indi (whose fabulous stories are also up on Gossamer — Go! Go now!) who wanted to see them get to dance to She Blinded Me With Science years ago! She doesn’t remember it being her idea, but trust me grrl, it was and I really appreciate it! 🙂 Also, thanks to Mai for being my cheerleader and for telling me that a spiked club is called a mace. Thanks to Jason for making me laugh on a daily basis. Thanks to Thomas Dolby, Trent Reznor, and The Divinyls. Their songs were used without permission.
Tonight’s the season finale and I just want to say my good-byes. I’ll watch next year because I think Gillian Anderson hung the moon and because I truly dig Robert Patrick and Annabeth Gish, but I will so miss the partnership. I hope to God it ends with the possibility of David doing cameos, of seeing them on the screen together again, with a new movie a gleam in Chris Carter’s eye. But no matter what, I will miss them. Go in peace, Mulderman. Go home and take care of your baby (please let it be that way!) and we’ll see you around.
10 by ShannonK
Rating: 17+ for two people having the sex and one watching.
Spoilers: Anasazi, The Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Avatar
Summary: Skinner has a bad week but is rewarded in ways he could not even have hoped for.
Keywords: MSR, Skinner POV, voyeurism, ‘bation (Hell, that’s more of a summary than the freakin’ summary! LOL!)
Notes: This is a sequel to another of my stories, and I’m not saying which one. Okay, fine, it’s A Stiff One. If you haven’t read it, I really don’t think it matters one bit. Well, you might appreciate this on a whole other level. Also, you just need to assume that this is post-Millennium and no matter what was going on on the show at the time (and I can’t honestly remember! LOL!), Skinner is M&S’s boss and Kersh is his. Also assume that M&S have not yet done the deed. ;D Oh and, I almost forgot, first person to figure out the title and email me wins! Wins what, you ask? How ‘bout one’s very own econo-sized box of Scully-worthy latex gloves! Yeah, sure, okay.
Thanks: To my forever peeps, Indi, Jason, and Mai! To David for making me want to write better humor and I apologize if I unwittingly stole Janet Reno. To my lovely Satina for her bang up beta and for archiving!! I appreciate you on so many levels, honey. ;D Thanks a million to Kimpa for all the work she does for me in archiving my stuff. 🙂 And to Mitch Pileggi for the Skin Man. He’s a great character to play with! I hope I did him justice.
Special Note: My heart goes out to all the victims of the September 11th attack and their families and friends. May we all be strong in love, friendship, and peace.
Apologies: To Janet Reno. I have really nothing against her. And neither does Skinner that I know of.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even a decent pair of underwear.
10 by ShannonK
The door clicks softly shut behind them and I curse, “Damn.”
There are several things I really despise in this world. I despise Deputy (I spit the title.) Director Kersh. I despise the stench of abandoned, day-old Morley cigarettes in the ashtray, (the one I no longer own). I despise feta cheese. I despise injustice. And I absolutely despise having to bawl out my two favorite agents.
“Damn,” I whisper again to no one. Well, it’s kind of in the direction of Janet Reno. She doesn’t seem to mind.
Truth be told? I love Scully and Mulder. I think they’re not only the finest agents in the building, but they’re the best people I know. I love being their boss. Most of the time. Not today. I despise being their boss today.
It’s most certainly their own damned fault that I had to yell at them. Sometimes I want to just shake them both and shout in their faces, “I wouldn’t have to do this if you two would just use your better judgment half the time!” I don’t like thinking of them this way, but I really do see them kind of as my adopted children. I hear myself think it and inwardly shudder. It’s kind of…icky, for lack of a better word. Or maybe it’s just that I’m still looking at Ms. Reno.
I shake my head and start to sort papers on my desk, aimlessly filing expense reports on top of car requisitions and sheets of paper with doodles I’ve made of the statue of David in a bow tie, a top hat, and spats.
My children. I snort out an ironic laugh. I basically did tell them in so many words to go to their room. And the pout on Mulder’s face was definitely childish. It served him right to be grounded. He screwed up. And Scully aided and abetted. Most of their fellow agents think she reigns him in and a majority of the time that’s true, but there are times, and this is one of them, when Scully is as much to blame, when it’s the two of them with each other and against the rest of the world. Well, they’re like that a lot, even when I can tell she disagrees with him. They stand by each other. It’s so adorable it gives me a splitting headache.
And hell if they won’t stand together in the punishment as well! The little shits.
Just then, Kimberly buzzes me, but before she can give the announcement, Kersh barges into my office, cheeks puffed out in what is probably permanent indignation. It can’t be good for him. He marches up to my desk and I casually lean back in my chair, lacing my fingers loosely together. He doesn’t intimidate me. I’ve been faced with far worse. He knows it. It’s why he has to pretend to be such a bad ass. All I see when I look at him is a glorified desk jockey. That’s probably what he sees in me, too. Maybe we’re both right. I quirk a sardonic lip and wait for his head to explode.
It looks like he’s going to try to stare me down into talking first. Fine. I’ll bite.
“What can I do for you….sir?”
“You can begin by telling me what the hell you mean by not suspending Agents Mulder and Scully.”
When Kersh talks, he tends to spit. It’s not attractive. If the man spits on me, he’s toast.
“I saw no reason for suspension to be considered. They made an honest mistake. They are being punished for it.”
“You call desk work punishment? I call it duty, A.D. Skinner!” He emphasizes the A. Wants to make sure I know he’s one rung above me on the F.B.I. ladder. Kersh has got a Napoleon complex that rivals Napoleon’s. I wouldn’t doubt if he wears lifts in his shoes.
“Agents Scully and Mulder are under my supervision. The Section Chief seems to think I know how best to deal with them. I’ve been their direct superior for 7 years. I know the kind of agents they are. I know what not being in the field means to them. I don’t think you do.” I readjust my glasses on my nose and lean forward, forearms on my desk. “I don’t think you know them at all.”
“I know that they are about two steps away from being rogue agents. And I know that rogue agents should be dealt with harshly. There isn’t room in the F.B.I. for mavericks.”
“Is there room for intuition? For acting on hunches? Come on, Kersh, that rogue agent rhetoric is bullshit and you know it.”
“Is it, Walter? Their days in the Bureau are numbered. If you don’t watch it, yours may be as well.”
With that he turns sharply on his heel and exits my office. Shouldn’t there be music playing to punctuate the villain’s exit? The man is such a drama queen. ‘It’s coitains! Coitains for you!’ Whatever, dickhead.
Man, it’s been a shitty day. I sigh and lean back in my chair and indulge in an activity that literally no one in the world knows about. I spin.
Man, it’s been a shitty week.
It started with my bawling out my best agents. It continued with Kersh harassing me on at least three separate occasions. It only got worse when my alternator went out, my favorite Bob Seger CD got scratched, I ruined my best tie by dribbling red gravy on it (I don’t even like red gravy!), and I lost my car keys for about half an hour. It’s now 4:30 on Friday afternoon and I’ve finally found my keys and all I want to do is go have a drink. A stiff one.
I tend not to drink alone or often. I got in that bad habit when
Sharon left me, but I got over it. Tonight is one time I’m willing to make an exception for myself. Tonight I despise the idea of going home to cook myself dinner and watch the evening news or reruns of St. Elsewhere and Thirtysomething. I’m no longer thirtysomething. I had hair in my thirties. It seems like another life.
No, I need some loud music to drown out the week. I need the comfort of alcohol and anonymity over the comfort of my couch and the silence that awaits me. The choice is clear to me as I make my way out of the office and lock it behind me.
“Night, Kimberly,” I say as I smile wanly in her direction.
“Good night, sir.”
She’s a sweet girl. She always shows teeth when she smiles at me. And she smells good.
“Go on home, Kimberly. Those Xeroxes can wait til morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” She sounds not just grateful, but excited. She’s probably got some boyfriend to go see. Or a girlfriend. Good for her.
I don’t hesitate when I pull my car out of the parking garage. I
pull a left onto Fitzpatrick and press a determined foot to the gas pedal. My Blazer roars to life and I speed into the brilliant amber of the impending sunset.
I pull into the parking lot and can already hear the music from the open doors. I don’t recognize the tune. If I were thirtysomething I would know it, I’m sure. I get out and go inside and as always happens here, I feel my tension ebb away. It’s strange that The Club should have that effect on me. Maybe it’s because my job can be so demanding. A little loud music and a few flickering lights don’t freak me out. It lets me know there’s another world out there. The gun under my jacket reminds
me of who I am, but I can forget if I drink enough.
Yes, I’m planning on getting shitfaced. I think the last time I got really obliterated was when I was…no, I won’t even think it. It’s getting tired.
I get my drink from the bar, Scotch, and take a seat at a table against the far wall, away from the entrance. I enjoy watching the people, but I don’t want to be social tonight. I just want to drink and slouch against this naugahyde and float on a sea of throbbing techno and 80s for a couple hours.
I almost don’t even recognize them when they come in. By the time they laugh through the door, his hand on her…hip??, I’m on my second Scotch and my reflexes are…softened. When it registers who I’m looking at, I can’t help the surge of adrenaline through my system. Now this is interesting. Mulder and Scully at The Club?! Together?! It really is another world.
They don’t see me at all here in the shadows across the room and I get to watch them knowing they don’t know I’m watching them. I’m kind of high on it. It feels almost like a stake-out and I briefly lament that those days are all but over for me in the Bureau. My place is behind a desk now, only occasionally heading up a field investigation. God, I miss that shit.
Mulder’s still in his suit from the office, but sans jacket and tie. Scully, however…well, she doesn’t even look like Scully. She’s in a little black number. Short, silky skirt and sleeveless top. Her legs are bare and — (The testosterone is firing!) — we’ve got cleavage. I can’t help it, dammit. She’s hot. Everybody knows it. Just nobody says. All of Hoover gets off on Agent Scully. Including the women. Even the straight ones. She’s a babe.
And yeah, I’ve noticed that Mulder is quite attractive as well. I’m into women and always have been, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see a damn handsome man when I look at him. He’s got sex appeal oozing out of his pores; I’d have to be dead not to appreciate it on some level.
And yeah, I do feel guilty thinking it. They’re my agents. They are my kids. It’s downright incestuous to sit here and look on as they make googly eyes at each other. And that’s exactly what they’re doing. They’ve taken seats at the bar and I can tell from here that the flirt factor is high. I’ve never seen them do this. It’s fascinating really. Like watching duck-billed platypi mate on PBS. Mulder’s giving her the bedroom eyes in a serious way and Scully’s erupting in giggles over whatever it is he just said. Freaky.
There have always been rumors about these two. I like to think I know them better than most and I’ve actually always assumed that they’re not doing it. They are the best of friends; that part’s obvious. But the wild thing? No way. At least, it seemed implausible up until about 5 minutes ago. They’re practically drooling on each other over there!
I have a moment where I get the urge to go break it up, then I remember that we’re not at work. I’m not their boss here. They’re not consorting while on a case. They’re not slacking in their duties. And maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe I’m reading too much into how they’re behaving toward each other. I have to laugh at the thought that maybe I’m just wishful thinking.
Do I want Mulder and Scully to get together? Yeah, I guess I do. I just never expected them to ever actually do anything about the sexual tension between them. That tension is a universal invariant, like McDonald’s or Charo. I don’t know if anyone, including Mulder and Scully, would know what to do with themselves if they actually took the plunge and slept with each other. Just watching their weird date-like behavior is odd enough.
I sip my drink and get nice and comfortable, stretching my legs out under the table.
Drinks are set in front of them, shots by the look of it, and they watch each other as they throw them back. Like it was a dare and they both had to prove to the other one that they could do it. Scully recrosses her legs and drops her chin onto her hand, elbow on the bar. The look in her eyes is pure tigress. She clearly wants him. Well, clear to me. Perhaps not to Mulder, the dumbass. He’s talking, probably about his latest conspiracy theory or the superiority of the Knicks, and Scully’s unabashedly staring at his mouth. She blinks slowly, her lashes touching down soft on her cheeks before she lifts her lids back to half-mast. She blinks like this about five times before her wet, pink tongue slides out of her mouth to run along her bottom lip while she eyes his. Damn!! The woman is practically begging to get laid.
And I’m getting hard. Fuck.
Mulder just keeps talking, ignoring how Scully is rubbing her legs together and now gazing into his eyes with rapt attention. <Fucking idiot! Scully wants you! Special Agent Dana Scully wants your ass! Pay fucking attention! Argh!>
Okay, now I want to go over, not to break it up, but to help it along. They’ve both been out of the dating pool for so long that I think they’ve forgotten how this shit works. Well, Scully’s making a nice effort, and certainly someone in this room is ready to throw her down and screw like silly, but Mulder…. Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. He’s oblivious. What he needs is another round of whatever that scary looking shit was that they just drank.
As if on cue, two more sickly pink shots are set down in front of them. This time Scully throws hers back first. She does so with zeal and shakes her little red head becomingly after she swallows. Okay, finally Mulder is taking notice here. His eyes travel from her face to her chest, down her torso, flitting over her tiny waist, hunger flaring in his eyes, before dropping without a hint of subtlety into her lap, licking his lips while staring into where her skirt has made a little valley between her
legs. His expression says it all. It is very, “I may have to put my face there for the rest of the evening, if you wouldn’t mind too much.”
Scully fidgets on her chair and breaks Mulder’s concentration on her crotch and he brings his gaze back to her flushed face in a hurry. Not that she would have noticed; she’s looking kind of…well, affected by her two drinks, to put it nicely. I wonder if they’ve eaten anything.
She says something to him and I curse the fact that I’m too far away to hear them. I pick up my half-drunk Scotch and stealthily make my way closer, picking a table nearer the bar, but concealed slightly behind a concrete pillar. It helps that the lighting casts strange shadows and that the two people I’m shadowing are soon to be more drunk than me.
Mulder picks up his shot and leans his head back far to drink. Scully zeros in on his throat. Oh yeah. These people need to be fucking each other. If there was ever a doubt, or if ever my role as their superior and boss colored my opinion, it’s of no consequence now. They’re so hot for each other, it’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetically sad. They might as well be a couple of blind people trying to sign to each other.
Mulder makes a face like he just drank liquid evil. “You drink these, Scully?”
She’s indignant, but laughing. Scully. Laughing. I’ll be damned. It’s an amazing sound. Girlish. It seems very contradictory to her speaking voice which is rather deep and sexy. Her laugh is sexy for other reasons.
And I’m getting a little harder. I sip my drink and scan the room to make sure no one’s watching me watch them. It’s cool. I might as well be invisible. Scully speaks and I focus back in on the conversation.
“Okay, okay. You get to pick the next round, Mulder. What’ll it be?”
“You’ll drink whatever I pick?” Mulder asks. He looks like she just offered to give him one of her kidneys.
Scully scoots closer and palms the back of Mulder’s neck. She’s going to kiss him! Well, right on, Scully. It’s about time somebody made a move. But wait. She’s not getting any closer. She’s talking.
“Mulder. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Well, that was better than a kiss. And I think she just rocked Mulder’s world. He’s putty. And I’m starting to relax a little more and enjoy myself. I should be pissed. They’re supposed to look whipped and dejected. I know for a fact they’ve not had a nice week. The paperwork I had them do all five days was shit detail. It was all the crap I know they hate doing the most. So why am I sitting here grinning? Because I’ve wanted this for them. They’ve both had it so rough. They’ve had each other through every loss, seen to each others’ battle scars, but never have they let down with each other enough to really have what they crave, to be what they both need to one another. I want this for them. It’s not just that happy agents are productive agents. I really care about them, and I want them to finally come together in every way and be, at long last, truly indomitable.
As I’ve been pensively sappy, my ice cubes have melted into the last of my Scotch. I down it and decide one more couldn’t hurt. I catch a cocktail waitress as she passes by and order another. Might as well truly entrench myself here. I just have to stay to the finish and see how this plays out.
I’ve watched them shoot tequila. I’ve watched them talk and laugh and touch each other as innocently as possible when horny-drunk. I’ve watched Scully blush. I’ve watched Mulder grope her with his eyes.
I’m about to call it a night, satisfied that they are on some kind of road to a new, romantic relationship but that it ain’t happening tonight, when they suddenly get up off their stools, both quite wobbly, and head to the dance floor. I plaster myself against my pillar until they’ve passed and then turn my chair so I can see them as they stumble out underneath the lights and into each other. Scully turns to Mulder with a smile and a cute waggle of her eyebrows as she begins to move to “She Blinded Me With Science.” I chuckle at how fitting it is and watch Mulder tentatively take hold of her gently circling hips. His hands look so big against her. My hand drops to my thigh and I’m dimly aware of the heat of my fingers through my pants. I imagine what Scully would feel like, her hipbones under Mulder’s hands, soft swell of ass just beginning under his fingers. Yeah, she’d feel so good….
<Stop it, Walter. This is dangerous territory. Just leave. Get
the hell out.>
I don’t listen to my inner voice and stay with my eyes trained to their shy, dancing bodies. Scully lifts her arms over her head and Mulder doesn’t disguise his lust as he blatantly stares down into the warm dark between her breasts. Scully watches him look at her, a small, triumphant smile playing about her glossy lips. She brings her hands down to his arms, caressing her way from his wrists up to his shoulders. They hesitate briefly and Mulder looks into her eyes.
<Do it, Scully. He wants you to.>
She strokes down over his chest then down around his waist, and then Scully makes the move of the century: she gropes his ass. And not just some fleeting handful. She really latches on. Both hands. Both cheeks. I knew she had the balls in this partnership.
Mulder shrieks, “Scully!”
Her voice holds a challenge. “Mulder?”
My right hand tightens on my thigh and my left tightens on my glass as Mulder shifts his hands lower on Scully’s body, slides them around and cups her ass in his hands gently. I see her quiver. <God, that’s good. Make her do that again, Mulder.> Suddenly, his grip tightens and Scully gasps.
They stand for a moment, breathing deeply, looking tentative even
as their hands are squeezing greedily. And then they look into one another’s eyes and I see their faces start to crumble and they both laugh. They don’t let go. They just hold tight to each others’ butts and cackle.
I really shouldn’t be watching this. For some reason this intimacy, the shared laughter, seems like something private, something wonderful breaking wide open, something I shouldn’t be allowed to witness. I shift my gaze and focus on the song, its quirky little robotic voice. I look down at my lap. I’m still semi-erect. It would be easy to… No one can see under this table unless they’re really trying. But it’s Mulder and Scully. Would I ever be able to look at them the same ever again if I touched myself while watching them? I look back out onto the dance floor and what I see nearly knocks me out of my chair.
They are no longer laughing. Scully takes a slow, cautious step in toward Mulder. She takes another and her body is now brushing up against his. She doesn’t look into his eyes. She doesn’t ask permission or check to see if it’s too much. She just leans her little head in and presses her lips to his chest. <Jesus fucking
Christ, Scully!> Her mouth comes to right beneath his collar bone. She nudges his shirt away with her nose, and I’m left wondering why that small gesture is so incredibly erotic. My hand edges up my thigh, still not touching where I need it. Scully kisses his chest like she’d kiss his mouth. She opens her lips to a sexy “O” and darts her tongue out before gently locking on and sucking at Mulder’s flesh. I can actually see his erection spring up from here. <I’m right with you, Mulder.>
Scully kneads his ass as she kisses at him, passionately licking and nibbling, pulling with her lips, making slow love to Mulder’s hot skin. And I know it’s hot. Hot like mine. I’ll bet he tastes vaguely salty…good…like sea air. I lick my lips, tasting mediocre Scotch.
My hand settles on my dick through my pants. It’s a peculiar arousal I feel. I’m drunk on looking at them. I know I’m watching history in the making. I know how scared and excited they must be. I know how Scully’s heart must be fluttering. I know how badly Mulder wants her to feel how hard she’s made him, how scared he is of letting her feel it. I know it all, and that’s why I’m hard. I’m under the spell of them. I want them to touch each other so that I can then touch myself. I need it. Like they need it. <Give it to me.>
Mulder mumbles something to her, closing his eyes and dropping his lips into her hair, breathing her. I can see his hands tighten on her ass and her skirt inches up the backs of her thighs, bunching in his hands. I’m seeing Scully’s legs from just under her ass to her ankles. They are beautiful. Strong, slender, silky, and so bare. My poor male brain is just stuck on that fact alone: Scully’s legs are totally bare. So much naked skin. I wonder what kind of underwear she’s got on. God, I can almost see it. <Mulder, slide your hands higher. Please. Let me see Agent Scully’s panties. I want to see the underwear of a woman who can shoot her own partner, who leveled a gun at me. I wanna see that crease where her thighs become her perfect ass. God, I really need to see it.>
The wrongness of the thought makes my dick jump. The guilt of watching them, of acknowledging my own dirty thoughts about them, only makes me hotter. I smile to myself that I’m getting to watch them grope each other and they’ll never have to know. I stroke my cock slowly through my slate slacks hesitantly. Up and down. Just once. Then squeeze. So nice.
Mulder’s hands skim up Scully’s back and he settles them near her breasts. His thumbs could touch her nipples if he wanted to. And she just arched her back a little. It’s almost imperceptible, so he might’ve missed it, but she wants him to touch them, to flick them maybe, right here in the crowded club. <Oh, Scully. Who knew you were so wonderfully naughty?>
The song changes and they shift against each other. Scully matter-of-factly fits Mulder’s leg between her thighs and looks at him for an objection. Like, “I’m goin’ there, G-man. Are you coming with me or not?” He can’t answer except to bend his knees, wrap his arm around her waist, and move against her when her hips start slowly, skillfully penduluming back and forth over his thigh, brushing his crotch covertly at the same time. Their hands start to rove over each other kind of fearfully. Nobody wants to disturb the moment. Nobody wants to recognize the gravity, that they are partners at the F.B.I. and this could change the way they are together forever. They both know it, but are willfully choosing to ignore it. So am I. This feels too right. I shake my head and smile, disbelieving. I wish I had a bucket of popcorn because this is the best show I’ve seen in years. I satisfy myself with a nice draught on my cool drink. It burns so good.
I languidly pet my excited dick as the song drugs me. It’s something I can’t quite place, but I know I’ve heard it before. It’s a song about fucking. About forgetting who you are. I think we’re all in agreement that it’s the perfect song for the occasion.
Mulder finds the spot upon which to rest his lips against Scully’s neck, not quite kissing her. Scully moves her hands over his hips, up his waist, fingertips teasing his ribs, flitting quick as can be across his nipples, then down, down, down the front of his thighs, nails scratching. Mulder groans into her and slides his hand up to her breast. <Please fucking touch it.> He does. He weighs her tenderly, her tit settling nicely in the valley between his thumb and finger. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder, hips still rotating to the sex-laden rhythm. I can hardly hear over the music, but I think she says his name. I just cannot fucking believe what I’m seeing. Half of me is cringing, begging, <Please, Agents, not here! What the hell are you thinking?!> The other half understands that for once they’re not thinking and it’s okay. That half is begging them not to stop.
She tosses her head back, pursuing his eyes through the staccato pulse of illumination. I watch her mouth the words to him right in time with the music. “I wanna fuck you like an animal.” I don’t know what turns me on more, knowing Scully had the guts to say it or knowing she knows this song well enough to know when to say it.
Mulder answers her. “I wanna feel you from the inside.”
“Mulder, kiss me.”
I begin stroking myself under the table as I watch Mulder’s mouth descend, open, onto Scully’s. She’s ready. She parts her lips in anticipation of him and I get to see their tongues touch before their lips collide in fierce abandon. Suddenly, it’s like she’s trying to crawl up him like climbing the rope in gym class. He’s crushing her to him, though, hand at the back of her head and around her back to clutch possessively about her waist.
So this is what 7 years of pent up sexual frustration looks like.
I moan at the sensitivity of my cock and slow my hand. I’m too aroused not to do something about it, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose all control and cream my jockeys in The Club. If Mulder can hold out, so can I.
Scully’s hands close around the back of his neck, in his hair, and he walks her backward, with purpose, until he has her hard up against the mirror. Other couples are plentiful on the dance floor but I still have a pretty fucking good view of my agents. They kiss like they want to devour each other. I can hear her moaning from here. Mulder’s going to lose it. I know what that sound coming out of Scully does to me. It’s got to hit him fifty times harder. He is, after all, producing that noise himself. He slams his hand up against the mirror by her head and she jumps slightly, her hair mussing against the glass as she then melts back into his kiss and lets his body hold her up against her own reflection. She offers him her knee, trying to vine her foot around his leg. Mulder takes her thigh and jerks it up against him.
Purple panties. A purple like the skin of a plum, covering her juice-thick sex, a thin membrane, a dam, holding in a flood of hot, wet Scully. Less than a second of a look at those pretty panties and then Mulder’s crotch is against her. His knees are bent, hips thrust forward, trying to fuck her through her clothes. Scully opens her mouth under his, soundlessly crying out with the sensation. She grinds herself against him, banging her head against the mirror once in beautiful frustration. Mulder doesn’t want to let her mouth get away. I’m sure he’s already addicted to the taste of her, to the feel of her tongue filling his mouth. He licks at her lips, latches onto her once more, fucking with his tongue, and Scully whimpers into his mouth. She lets him kiss her for a few more moments and then pushes him away, hands against his chest, her leg lowering to the floor.
Her eyes are like blue smoke and I’m choking. She leads him from the dance floor as the music changes. As I watch them leave I catch Scully look back at him and smile devilishly. Before I can process just what I’ve been allowed to witness, they are gone. I blink stupidly a few times and gradually release my grip from around my erection. I take my Scotch and down it in four long gulps. It trails warm fingers down my throat and settles pleasantly heavy in my stomach. I leave a generous tip on the table for Tilda, the cocktail waitress, and stand up on creaky knees. I resolve that I’m okay to drive, not having gotten plastered like I’d planned, but I only make it inside my car when I’m tugging the zipper down on my pants and pulling myself out. I can feel the bass pounding in my chest. I lay my head back on the head rest and close my eyes, jerking myself quickly and efficiently. I replay the evening in my head, finally succumbing to my explosive orgasm when the last notes of “I Touch Myself” fade into Divo.
It’s been about two weeks since I touched myself and thought of Scully grinding the crotch of her plum flavored panties into Mulder’s erection.
I’ve seen them a few times since then and I’ve been the epitome of professionalism as have they. If I didn’t know better, hadn’t seen it with my own eyes and personally drooled over it, I wouldn’t know anything had changed between them. They’ve been their usual selves: Mulder understated and flatly humorous, Scully a mask of icy bemusement. I’m trying really hard not to over-compensate by being a total asshole. I find myself being too gruff just so they can’t see that I’m completely fucking guilty. Of course, I don’t want to go the other way and fawn over them and look like a big doof. I think now I’ve got the perfect measure of Mr. Stern Boss Man and Mr. Friendly Good Guy.
I better have it down because I’m about to call them up for a meeting.
I pick up the receiver and dial the basement. It rings and rings. That’s weird. It’s 10 in the morning. Too early for lunch. And I know they’re down there. They wouldn’t both take a break at the same time, so somebody really should answer.
I decide that I could use the exercise and since I need to speak with them sooner rather than later anyway, I’ll take the stairs down to the basement. I leave my office, asking Kimberly to hold my calls, and take the stairs at a healthy jog.
I’m pretty proud of myself that I reach the basement and am barely out of breath. Old Walt’s still got it even pushing 55 like I am. Guess those three nights a week at Gold’s are paying off.
I open the door to the basement hallway and I can hear them arguing from here. It’s somewhat reassuring that they haven’t changed that much.
Mulder states confidently, “Can.”
Scully answers with just as much conviction, “Can’t.”
It’s obvious it’s not a heated argument, just good-natured bantering. It makes me smile. I pause outside their door, which is cracked, to listen and see who wins.
<What?> I know that “ooooohh.” That “ooooohh” means sex. Oh my God! My agents are getting fresh in their office! I raise my hand to knock when my curiosity gets the best of me. I decide the listen some more. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe she just took at bite of an éclair.
I plaster myself against the wall and peer cautiously around the corner. They’re both in plain view. Mulder’s got his arms wrapped around her from behind and he’s tonguing her ear. You’d think he was trying to medal in it at the Olympics. I’ve never seen such dedicated ear tonguing. And Scully’s eyes are rolling back in her head as she sags helplessly against him.
Damn it to hell! I’m getting erect again.
“Mulder…” She chuckles. “You may be able to get me turned on for a third time, but I’m guaranteeing you. I cannot come three times in three hours. Not gonna happen. I hate to break it to you.”
So that’s what the argument’s about. My mouth falls open in stunned salute. Nice, Mulder. It’s good to see he’s got priorities.
“Scully, I’ve heard your arguments, and they mean nothing. I can make it happen. It will happen.” He punctuates his statement by cupping her breasts through her blouse and kissing behind her ear.
Scully moans and tilts her head, giving him better access. Even as my cock is readying itself, I’m getting a little pissed. At a club is one thing. At their apartments, fine. But at the F.B.I.? They fucking know better. So why aren’t I barging in and handing them their pride on a platter? I want to groan with the indecision. Scully does groan and my body makes the decision for me. I crouch down and peer back into their office, knowing that I can’t very well reprimand them for behavior unbecoming a servant of this great country when I’m hiding behind a door and watching them go at it.
“Mulder, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Scully warns even as she pushes her ass back into Mulder’s crotch.
“You don’t think I know that? That’s why we’re going to.” He squeezes her breasts and then slides his hands down that delicious body until they’re at the hem of her skirt.
“Mulder.” Scully goes for her warning tone.
Mulder’s hands inch up.
“Mulder.” A little more forceful. Her skirt is slowly being hiked up her thighs, Mulder’s hands grazing her sensible hose.
“Mulder, don’t you do it.” Now she’s on the verge of laughing. Her lips peel open in a blazing smile.
“You know you want it,” Mulder husks in her ear and his hand comes up and slips into her panties from the front.
I amend that. Scully’s in thigh-highs. Much sexier. And maneuverable. Wise choice. I try to keep my breathing calm and even. Fuck protocol. This is fantastic.
“Want what, Agent Mulder?” she breathes, nearly panting. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re suggesting.”
“Fucking, Scully. I’m suggesting that you and I do the nasty. Right here. Right now. Is that clear enough for you?”
She smiles back at him as she replies, “Why Agent Mulder. Is that your Sig up against my ass or are you happy to see me?”
Mulder sinks his hand deeper into her undies, probably penetrating her. She cries out like he did. “You’re a smart woman, Scully. What do you think?”
“I think…I think….fuck….I think I might come three times in three hours.”
Score one for Mulder. I want to touch myself so bad I feel it in the arches of my friggin’ feet.
“Mmmm, that’s my girl.”
“Oh, shut your pompous mouth and do me.”
I almost choke, I’m trying so hard not to laugh.
Then I watch something that I will relive for years. I watch Scully extract herself from Mulder’s arms, wiggle out of her underwear, lift her skirt up over her ass, and bend herself over the desk. She’s over it sideways, so I can still see her face. Perfection.
Mulder’s struck mute and his legs don’t seem to work any more.
Scully looks back over at him impatiently. “Well? Are you all talk? Fuck me for Christ’s sake.”
“Oh Scully. What did I do to deserve you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, but if you don’t get over here this second and put your cock in me, I assure you, the consequences will be dire and swift.”
Mulder snaps out of his paralysis and quickly drops his pants as he shuffles up behind Scully. He spreads her ass cheeks and lines himself up with her. Slowly he pushes inside. Scully moans continuously until he’s buried in her, then she looks back at him and smiles. “Good, huh?”
Mulder takes a moment to swallow down his immediate lust. “If I’d known how good fucking you on the desk would be, Scully, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”
They start to move together, Scully pushing back and arching in ecstasy as Mulder bucks his hips into her, hard cheeks clenching with the effort. He strokes her hair out of her face and pets down her spine and she periodically hums, trying to stay quiet, murmuring from time to time things I can’t quite make out.
“Feel nice, Scully?”
“God, I love it. I love you.”
“Love you so much. Love fucking you. Love…Scully….”
My mouth softens from its aroused grit. I knew it was true. But I didn’t know they knew. I thought this was just sex. But it’s so not. He may have her bent over his desk, and he may be nailing her as hard and fast as he can now, but it’s making love. They’re making love. And I’m misty. Holy fuckin’ shit.
“Yes,” she whispers urgently. “Mulder…”
I watch him grip his bottom lip between his teeth, watch his florid penis jabbing at her, listen to the growl he can’t keep inside as he begins to orgasm, watch her stiffen and throw her head back as she joins him. They both pant and shiver as they ride it out together, Scully crumpling papers in her little fists, Mulder probably bruising her hips with his strong hands. Then they both relax with big sighs, and he pulls out and tucks himself back in before reaching for the tissues. I watch as he takes a handful and wets them with his tongue before gently wiping between Scully’s thighs. She hisses.
“Sorry, honey,” he whispers.
“Mmmm,” she replies and he keeps stroking through her folds tenderly, cleaning her.
When he’s done he hands her her panties and she stands up and puts them on, tugging at her skirt to get it to lay right. When she’s dressed and they’re both looking just this side of impeccable again, she leans into arms offered guilelessly and they hug and sway.
They don’t speak and they don’t need to. How many ways can two people show such a boundless love for one another? They just know. And now I do.
And if I don’t get out of here fast, I’m going to get myself caught. I slowly stand, making no noise and I turn to head back to the stairs. I run right into Kimberly.
“Oh, hi sir. I just came to tell you Kersh needs to speak with you.”
I wince. I’m sure they heard that. Now I have to go in there and say something. Shit.
“Thanks, Kimberly. I’ll be right up.”
I turn and take a breath and knock on their door.
Scully clears her throat. “Come in.”
I walk in and it’s almost funny. Mulder is typing away on a computer that for all I know isn’t even turned on. There is no glow on his face. Scully is riffling through the file cabinets and turns as if rehearsed a hundred times to see me walk in.
“Agents,” I say in greeting.
“Sir,” they say one after the other.
“Um, I just came down because you weren’t answering your phone. I need you to requisition a car to go down to North Carolina this afternoon. There’ve been reports of paranormal activity in a town there called Blavensville. Several people have reported visitations from alien ghosts. Thought you’d be interested since it seems to combine two of your specialties.”
Scully nods and Mulder pipes up cheerily, “Of course, sir. Whatever we can do to be of service.” Yeah, right. That’s his happy, sated dick speaking.
I can’t help smiling at them. I can’t scold them for fucking in their office when I sat right outside and enjoyed the whole thing. I decide to play with them a little, though.
“Having a good morning, Agents?”
When Mulder can’t seem to find his voice, Scully helps out. “Uh…fine, sir. Thank you.”
“Good. Anything you’d like to discuss before I head back up?”
Scully answers again. Poor dumbfounded Mulder. She’ll probably kick his ass later. “I don’t think so, sir, but thank you.”
“All right then. Have a safe trip. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I turn around to leave before I can see that register on them. I bet they’re really freaked out. I make a mental note to myself to send out memos to my entire section outlining the rules on the Bureau’s policy of male and female agents consorting in the same hotel room so that it will be in their inboxes after they get back from North Carolina. That oughta really fuck with them. Nah. I can’t do that. Too cruel. What I decide to do instead is take off early for a long brunch at Fedini’s. I could use a good western omelet. I chuckle to myself as I jog back upstairs, still not out of breath, still chuckling as I pass Kersh in the hall on my way out.
“Skinner, can I have a word with you?” he calls out.
“Not right now, Kersh. Maybe later. Have a good one, buddy.”
I turn my back on his shocked face and walk out the door into the bright sunlight, chuckling still.
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