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Subject: New Story: Colors (NC17 or higher)
Date: 13 Jul 1995 19:23:16 -0400
by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright July 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away … Oh, wait a minute, that’s a different story … Ah yes, how to explain Colors … Let’s just say that we decided if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, but let’s do it tongue firmly in cheek. Yes, there’s lots of firm things in this, and soft luscious goodies, and all the deep cerulean pools one could ever hope to gaze into. That’s right, we wrote a romance … well, as close to a romance as you’ll probably ever get out of this bunch of non-romantics.
Actually, it’s more about sex and comedy than romance, but we honestly are trying to get Mulder and Scully together. They’re just … just … guess you’ll just have to read to find out.
WARNING – WARNING – WARNING: If you are offended by profanity, sexually explicit dialogue, the whole idea of Mulder and Scully as sexual beings, gross liberties with characterization, or life in general, this is not the piece for you. If you chose to read it, after that warning and then get all bent out of shape, that’s your problem!
RATING: At least NC-17, probably closer to X. Quick copy to disc before the net-police make it go away.
Oh yeah, almost forgot: This story is based on the characters created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement is intended. Don’t distribute it without our names or attempt to profit from it in any way or we’ll sic our lawyer, the Gooster, on you and you’ll be in deep doodoo.
AND NOW … ON WITH THE SHOW!
Subj: Purple Prose
Dana Scully tucked a glowing, russet lock behind one shell-like ear and glared at her partner’s back. Usually this view of his nice, tight ass and swimmer’s shoulders was one of her favorite bits of scenery, but today it just added to her mounting frustration.
Silently fuming, she pretended to read her e-mail and reviewed the catalogue of his sins.
New dress, new perfume, make-over, new hairstyle and, for god’s sake, new, patent leather fuck-me-pumps on her feet. All that and Fox Mulder had not batted a single, sinfully lush eyelash.
Professional distance was one thing but this was ridiculous.
When she’d swayed in he’d just handed her a cup of coffee and launched into one of his totally outrageous slide-shows. Now he was burrowing through one of the over-stuffed file cabinets where he stored the X-Files according to some arcane filing system he’d devised just so the FBI couldn’t fire him without bribing him for a rosetta stone to decipher it.
And Dana Scully was about ready to strangle him with his own hideous tie and call the murder another X-File.
What did it take to get him to make a pass at her? She knew he wasn’t gay. Scuttlebutt from Data Processing, and Bonnie at the front desk, was that he also wasn’t the least bit repressed. In fact, they described “the Fox” in terms that had Dana’s knees quivering and her palms sweating. Apparently he was a terrific lover, for every woman BUT her. Clearly this one called for the big guns. Feminine wiles Dana had never had the unmitigated gall to use. She prepared herself, fixed her lipstick, and bided her time.
And it happened. Yes! If there was any way for Mulder to injure himself it would come to pass – his own version of Murphy’s Law, so it was inevitable that pawing through the files like that should result in a paper cut. Her heart leaped when he yanked his hand away from the files and tucked the injured digit between those full, pouting lips. Four quick steps across the small office and she could gaze up into his soft, hazel eyes, letting her own cerulean orbs speak volumes of comfort as she gently pulled his finger out of his mouth and tugged his hand down to have a look.
Mulder had been trying, desperately trying, to ignore Scully all morning long. The new dress and hair and, oh god, the heels that made her sway when she walked. He was in serious danger of unprofessional, not to mention ungentlemanly, conduct every time he noticed what the hunter green linen did for her figure and complexion. When she’d suddenly materialized next to the file cabinet and taken his hand he’d frozen in the panic of the civilized, twentieth century male who knows his reaction is not appropriate for the office. He’d thought he might get out okay, he did have some self-control. If he tried to say anything his voice would crack, but he might make it back to the camouflage of his desk …
Except that Scully suddenly leaned forward and kissed the damned paper cut. Kissed it all the way up to the knuckle, and gave it a little flick with her tongue for good measure, leaving a sexy ring of lipstick. Mulder abandoned all hope. His suit was simply not cut to accommodate his reaction.
When she sashayed back to her desk he couldn’t even pretend to ignore her. And so it was that Fox Mulder was caught, standing at full attention, when A.D. Walter Skinner – whose secretary was out sick, whose temp couldn’t even find the basement, and whose office reeked of cigarette smoke – walked in to drop off the latest X-File.
MB, I gagged all through this! Now you get to write the next and send it, without warning, to Rodent. Goo
Mulder was pinned, his eyes suddenly snapping toward the face of authority for his department. He had better sense than to try and cover his manhood in any way. It would only focus attention upon himself. If he ignored it, perhaps Skinner would as well.
Skinner’s eyes slid off Mulder’s long frame effortlessly, instead focused on Dana Scully. Her crossed legs were bare, and the sheer fabric of her skirt had slid well past her knees. She did her best to hide her flushed face in a file, but Walter Skinner couldn’t help but notice the curves of her hair, or the dark lipstick that so became her.
He turned back to Agent Mulder, whom he was more comfortable facing just then. Mulder, however, chose to discomfit him further by sporting an uncomfortably large erection. Skinner could see what was going on here, and he actually relished the look of abject fear in Fox’s hazel eyes. At last, he thought, something to sweat him with.
“Agent Mulder.” Skinner’s deep voice was tight with barely restrained humor. “I came to discuss your proposed investigation.”
“Sir.” He blinked thinking fast. His strangled voice had not helped alleviate the tension in the office. “What exactly-”
“The disappearances at Lockheed/Marietta are outside of Federal auspices, and are being handled by other agencies.” AD Skinner had been told to pull them from this case, though he suspected Fox would recklessly pursue it nonetheless. Now he had a better idea.
“I’ve returned your preliminary file and travel vouchers.”
Skinner casually tossed the folder onto Agent Scully’s desk, relishing the way she pulled back abruptly. But he stopped suddenly, realizing that the soft redhead wore no brassiere. Oh, Agent Mulder, what should I do to you, he thought. God, what will she do to you?
Mulder scrambled in Skinner’s pause to gather his wits (and decorum) about him. “That company has defence department ties, making any-”
“Agent Mulder!” Skinner ruthlessly squashed a smile, realizing that Mulder jumped at that quiet command more than he’d ever done for Walter’s yells before. “That was not a request. Instead I’m moving you to temporary assignment.”
“Sir-” Both Agents found their voice this time. Walter Skinner was quietly glad; it gave him time to figure out where to stash these two.
“You’ll use those travel vouchers to Long Beach, but you are assigned to the team working on the HTA arson fires in that area.
The section leader out of LA requested more hands running down leads.” Almost true. But that was nothing a few calls couldn’t straighten out. Besides, Section Leader McVaughn was a friend he could trust to keep an eye on these two. “Any questions?”
“No sir, thank you.” Dana was out of her desk, and escorting Skinner to the door with a flashing smile. Her smooth rolling gait and voluptuous curves were not lost on either man.
Skinner let himself be taken in hand by the diminutive agent, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the heat he could feel from her.
Licking his lips, he turned at the doorway for a parting shot.
“Oh, and Agent Mulder? Your fly is open.” Director Skinner closed the office door before he let his laughter take him. He knew Agent Scully was too bright to try anything under the watchful eye of the LA Section Chief, but that wouldn’t make anything easier for her obviously beleaguered partner.
Sorry, Goo. I require setup. Lots of it. So, can you keep up what you started? Sean
Now you see, Goo, passing the buck, sending it on to Amp: Now it’s in your hands! have fun or get rid of it fast … Goo!
Mulder swallowed, felt his manhood dwindle away as his dick attempted to crawl straight up his ass. Skinner’s feet echoed down the hallway. Scully shut the door. Turned around. Stared at her partner. “Do you want me?” she asked softly.
Mulder stared at her, contemplating the beautiful, unfathomable mind of woman. “I…”
“You wanted me.” Her voice was deep, dusky. She moved across the office to where he stood, fly still open. Her fingers traced his shirt. “You wanted me.”
Oh god, don’t let her lose her nerve now. She wanted his tight ass. She wanted to feel him inside her, to arch her back and howl.
“Skinner’s gone. He won’t be back,” Mulder found himself saying. He considered his desk, swung Scully around to the counter instead. His hand reached through the thin satin material of her blouse, felt the warm rounded breast, felt the hard, tipped nipple of her excitement. His other hand snaked down, grabbed the edge of her skirt, jerked, pulled upwards.
He snaked to the warm softness between her legs, expecting satin or lace or the smooth texture of silk. What he felt was curling and rough. Wet and slick. She was wearing garters.
Mulder’s breath jerked and his hand trembled as he began to feel her inside.
Dana’s mouth parted and the pink of her tongue slid out. Her eyes glittered and her hands found his belt.
Mulder removed the hand from her breast regretfully and slid her to the counter, hands firm on her tight, rounded buttocks.
When she was seated, skirt around her waist, her hands found the waist of his pants, jerked them down, jerked on the boxers until his shaft emerged, dark and strong and erect. Her hands clutched his buttocks, he played with her nipple, squeezing and toying, until she was forced to slap him on the bottom, to hurry him along.
“Agent Mulder?” The voice belonged to a data analyst from down the hall. He’d borrowed their highlighters and never returned them.
Mulder turned, tie askew, pants around his ankles.
The data analyst swallowed, stared at them both. “I…” He considered the passion vaguely filling the room. “I…” He continued to stare at them. There wasn’t much Mulder could do.
Scully slid off the counter and let her skirt slide down.
“Is there something you wanted?” Free from Mulder’s hand the shirt fell back into place covering her breast.
“I…No. I’ll go down the hall.” The door shut behind him.
When Scully turned around, Mulder had his pants up. He was staring at her strangely. He was buckling his pants, then zipping the zipper. Scully frowned and stamped her foot. “Damn it!” she yelled. “Damn it all to fucking hell! I just want to get laid!”
They hadn’t tried anything that night. It seemed like risking the fates. If they’d made love in Mulder’s apartment Blue Berets would have rushed in and wiped their memories. If they’d made love in her apartment Scully was sure that some lunatic would have come and abducted them both. She’d already found out how hard it was to convince payroll that you should get full salary or even disability salary from a time when you were presumed dead and she had three new Armani suits to pay for.
But today they were on a plane. With a locking bathroom. And Scully had always wanted to be part of the mile high club. Ever since 11th grade when Mary Kat Evans explained just exactly what the Mile High club was.
The thought of sharing this pleasure with Fox Mulder made her skin tingle and every ounce of her being quiver with almost unbearable joy. She’d had occasion last night, lying in her quiet bed, fingers rubbing her clit, to wonder what his mouth would be like as it found its way down her neck, to her breasts. She imagined him suckling at her, his teeth nipping gently. She imagined him falling lower and lower. She imagined his eyes, dusky and quiet as he lowered himself into her.
God she hoped that woman with the baby would get out of the bathroom so she could use it with Mulder. God please. She was wearing crotchless panties and garters again and if she had to dress like this one more day she’d scream and fuck him in the reflecting pool of the Hoover Building with Louis Freeh and Janet Reno watching. Cancer man could take notes.
Okay. No one was in that restroom. Mulder seemed surprised but followed her willingly without conscious thought. She locked the door, surprised at how easy it had been…
Okay. I’m not real good at this. It came out more as porn than satire…Goo, I’m sending it back to you, and to rodent. Your turn rodent, or stay out of it. Whatever suits.
I was going to go back to work on Leap, but I’ll try my hand at this although it’s a little out of my League.
It was more complicated than Dana had expected to squeeze two adults into one of those tiny stalls, especially when one of them was as tall as Fox Mulder. She found herself wishing that the airline had gone the extra mile and equipped the toilet with a lid as she felt decidedly uneasy balancing on the rim in the increasing turbulence.
Fox, being the sensitive male that he was, quickly picked up on her discomfort and took her forcefully in his rough embrace, lifting her onto the tiny bathroom counter. With a grimace of pleasure, that looked very much like pain in its intensity, he leaned forward burying his head in her shoulder, his arms firmly braced on either side of her. “Dana,” he groaned. Shudders ran up and down his lean frame.
Dana, trembling at the firey contact of his open mouth upon the tender flesh of her white, silken neck, slid her tiny delicate hands down the firm muscles of his back to clasp his firm, runner’s flanks tighter to her quivering thighs. Obviously too impassioned by her touch to be able to respond with words, he groaned more deeply as he collapsed into her tender embrace.
“Dana,” he moaned again, his voice tight with unrelieved passion.
“Oh, Fox, Fox … tell me what you need. Let me pleasure you,”
she whispered in his ear, delicately licking the interior with her pink petal like tongue.
“I need … I need,” he groaned, struggling to get the words out as she slowly pulled his butt hugging jeans down, revealing the fluorescent orange, silk boxers he was wearing underneath.
“Yes, yes, Fox … what is it?” Dana slid the soft, silk boxers down his trembling thighs, prolonging the exquisite agony, before stroking her fingers delicately up his legs, moving slowly towards the object of all her months of frustrated desire. Not finding exactly what she expected she pushed him away, seeking to confirm with her eyes what her hands were telling her.
Robbed of her support, her partner immediately collapsed in spasms on the floor, his head falling back into the toilet bowl. “Oh god, my back,” he cried, struggling against the painful spasms that racked his frame. “I think I broke something lifting you.”
Still staring at the less than stimulating sight of her partner, spasming on the floor, his pants around his knees, and his hair gradually turning green from the solution in the toilet bowl, Dana was taken aback by the sudden violent knocking on the bathroom door. Startled, she slid backwards, wedging her butt firmly into the sink and accidentally turning on the water in the process.
As the knocking continued, now combined with warnings from the flight attendant of increasing turbulence, Dana cursed her overactive libido for getting her into this mess.
Okay Goo, it’s back to you. I’ve got to go write Leap. You figure out how to get them out of this mess.
COLORS (Part 2 of ?) by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright July 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: What? No flames? No threats? How can this be?
We be bad and no one wants to take us to task? Sigh. Hate to tell you people but there’s lots more where this came from. We gather from the feedback on the group that there are at least a few hardy souls reading this thing, so we’ll give you a little bit more… Now, where were we? … Ah yes, the plot thickens. When last we left our dynamic duo they were locked in an airplane restroom, on their way from DC to LA. Oh horror, oh devastation, oh me, oh my.
Will they find love in the sky? Will Mulder be able to walk again?
What more can go wrong? Read on and find out if you dare.
RATING: At least NC-17, probably closer to X. Quick copy to disc before the net-police make it go away.
All comments to: , , ,
Mustn’t forget. This story is based on the characters created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement is intended. Don’t distribute it without our names or attempt to profit from it in any way or we’ll sic our lawyer, the Gooster, on you and you’ll be in deep doodoo.
AND NOW … ON WITH THE SHOW!
Okay Amp! You asked, here it is:
Subj: Sky blue
Scully fumed, ass in the sink, feeling water soaking her tight skirt and crotchless panties. She couldn’t get out of the sink without stepping on Mulder, who was scrunched up into the tiny floor space. He groaned with back spasms, hair drenched with the green stuff that was splashing in the aircraft toilet as turbulence tossed fluids and any loose object around this steel parody of a porcelain maiden.
“Mulder, that is disgusting. And nothing’s broken or you’d be in a lot more pain. You will be in a lot more pain if you don’t get up and let me out of this sink!” She kept her voice to a low hiss, so the flight attendant pummeling the door couldn’t hear her.
Sir, ma’am, you’ll have to go back to your seats. There’s turbulence …” Pound, pound, pound.
“Aghhh. Yes, we’ll be out in a moment, just need to fix this …”
“Truss,” hissed Scully.
“Back brace!” called Mulder, grimacing at her. He finally got his jeans back up to where he could stand, more or less, and wedged himself in the corner of the closet that passed for an airplane toilet, getting dressed again. “You’ll have to wait to join the Mile High club, Scully. I think I threw my back out picking you up.”
“Next you’ll tell me you think I’m fat or pregnant.” She ignored his baleful glare and hopped out of the sink. When she had maneuvered as far as she could she turned and grabbed his collar, yanking his head down and shoving it as far under the spigot as she could.
“Ow! God, you’re going to cripple me!”
“Shut up Mulder. You’ve got disgusting green stuff in your hair.
It’ll probably bleach it, or stain, or burn you or something.”
When she was sure his hair was dark brown again, she shut off the water and let him up, or tried to. He was bent over the sink, gasping, elbows propped, developing themes on a remarkable line of curses.
“Jack-off, smegging, butt-fucking, son-of-a …”
“I’m glad to know your Oxford education wasn’t wasted. Now can we get out of here before the stewardess beats the door whooops!” She almost shrieked as the plane dropped and she was suddenly in mid-air. Then she landed up to her elbows in the toilet, with Mulder sprawled on the floor again, legs stretched up the door, cursing.
“Ewwww.” She carefully straddled him, rinsing her own hands off, and fleetingly considered the options open given their present situation. If she and Mulder were to be publicly, er, exposed in disarray in an aircraft toilet, the experience shouldn’t be totally wasted. She glanced down to find him staring up at her, his expression a cross between the rictus of back pain and the wide-eyed look that he got when utterly amazed and fascinated. She smiled.
There ya go, Amp. Goo
Fuck. I have no idea what to write there. I think Goo set me up intentionally. Goo, this feels like Camping in HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Expect a rabid quiz bowler who still owes me a favor to come quietly in the night and wax your legs.
Subj: Popcorn White
There are few things, Fox Mulder had discovered in his somewhat turbulent relationship with the opposite sex, that compare to a frustrated woman. When a woman smiled in that thin-lipped, glittery eyed way it meant that she was past her bent, that the innocent had best flee screaming into the night. Any fates aligned against her better assume new identities and start life over as ghosts in the Australian Outback.
Scully pursed her lips, made a “tch” sound. “Okay.” Her words were very soft, very gentle. “Okay. I can see one way to get out of here without everyone assuming we screwed when WE DIDN’T.”
Mulder considered shushing her, decided that in her current mood she might hurt him. If she got a woman judge there was no way in hell she’d be convicted.
“I’m going to go out and inform the flight attendant that you are recovering from some injuries and that you fell during the turbulence.”
“Why did we go into the bathroom?” Mulder asked sensibly.
Scully didn’t have to wait on that one. “I said you had a back brace, didn’t I?”
Mulder considered this. “I’ll probably need one anyway.”
“You just probably did something minor, pulled a muscle or whatever.”
“Gee, there’s satisfying talk from a person with an MD.”
“Like I’ve actually seen your back. Besides, you’re not in enough pain.”
“Pain is relative.”
“Well, since you know my Aunt Jean I have to agree with that one…”
Mulder groaned. “Scully. I’m in enough pain. I don’t need any puns befouling the air. Did they teach that in Med school?
Doctor Humour 101. Bad puns to spring on people in pain.”
“Oh shut up,” Scully dismissed. “You had some stitches too or something…something private. And you fell. It could happen to anyone.”
“It didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to us.” Mulder considered his partner. “Scully. I hate to say this. I really hate to say this. But this sex thing…It’s doomed. It’s royally fucking doomed.”
Scully frowned, slit her eyes to narrow thin slashes, and leaned over her still prostrate partner. “You shut up. If you have thrown your back out and they put you in the hospital, I WILL FUCK YOU in the hospital bed with my toes curled around the bed rails. I am going to get some. If it comes with sweet caresses and loving embraces and kisses and roses and champagne and whipped cream, good. If not…oh well. If I have to tie you down to the table in Skinner’s office with Krychek eating popcorn in the background, we ARE going to make love. Got that, Fox Mulder?”
Mulder got a certain terrified look generally reserved for being trapped in burning buildings with serial killers. He nodded.
“Good.” Dana straightened her wet skirt and stepped out of the toilet.
Okay, that’s all for Amps. Rodent, take it. OH!!! in my library visit, I checked out a Mademoiselle. On the Sex questions page, first question: A girl who gets a runny nose with particularly good orgasms wanted to know if anything was wrong. Response started out, “Only if you don’t have kleenex…” Just a thought for whenever they do finally consummate…if they ever do… Amp
Ummm, actually I think it goes to Monkey Boy next. Rodent Nice place to leave me hanging, ladies. I see now why rodent let me have the next bit. Goo, how did you ever manage to write your parts of Camping with Amp launching zingers like Scuds at you?
Sheesh. Well, here goes a little part time excavation. Sean
Dana opened the flimsy toilet door just far enough to squeeze through, not wanting Mulder to be visible from the aisle. While doing so, the wide-body jet dipped to one side, throwing Agent Scully up against the flight attendant.
Worse yet was Mulder’s unabashed yell as he slid out the bathroom doorway and into Scully’s legs. Dana felt the world shiver again, and then she was falling. She landed somewhere on Mulder’s midsection, the aging stewardess tumbling across his chest.
The matronly woman in her blue polyester skirtsuit ignored her hat as it tumbled across the floor, instead pushing herself to her hands and knees. She looked worriedly down at Fox, and shook his shoulder. “Are you all right, sir?”
Dana thought quickly. Any chance she might have had to keep her partner pinned in the restroom was now gone. Now she tried to scramble off Fox’s stomach, and run interference for him. “He’s fine, miss.”
>From the floor, Agent Mulder wheezed. “Helluva definition of ‘fine,’ Scully.”
The plane bounced again as Scully continued. “My … friend here has back problems, and I was trying to help him when the plane started bouncing, er … encountered turbulence.” In her mind, Dr. Scully was trying to devise a way to phrase this whole mishap such that she could float the medical report across Skinner’s desk without mishap.
The flight attendant looked down at Mulder’s soaking hair and rumpled shirt before glancing upward to the slim redhead whose blouse was still wet along the sleeves and hem. She chewed her lip, trusting the taste of wax to keep the smile from her face.
Considering how poorly the situation in the cockpit was progressing, she was glad something could still make her laugh.
“Well, we need to get both of you back to your seats. The turbulence-”
She was interrupted by the plane itself, which abruptly nosed over.
Now Agent Mulder was profoundly glad for the cheap carpeting on passenger aircraft; it kept him from sliding down the length of the aisle. Scully on the other hand, simply dropped backward onto her ass with a loud whoosh of escaping breath.
“This is the co-pilot speaking.” A speaker, hidden by a layer of tacky blue and gray cloth, blared to crackling life. “The air traffic control has asked us to make an unscheduled stop at the Dallas-Ft.Worth airport. We’ll be landing in a few minutes, and a connecting flight will carry you onward to your final destination. Szz. Destinations.”
There was a set of clicking noises over the speaker system, before the co-pilot’s voice could be heard again. “Jesus, I hate lying.
Should I start dumping fuel now, or-”
“The mike, you asshole! The mike’s open,” a second voice hissed as the passengers babbled en masse. Quickly the speakers stopped hissing and went dead.
It was enough to mobilize Dana. She wordlessly helped the stewardess to plant Fox firmly in a seat near the rear of the craft. The row was unoccupied, and she dropped down next to him.
The aircraft’s angle of descent increased abruptly, and the flight attendant needed to hold onto the chair backs to remain standing.
“Miss, we’re Federal Agents.” Scully glanced down the aisle toward the other flight attendants attempting to quell the rising panic with explicit insruction on how to properly tuck down for impact.
“We can help.”
The flight attendant couldn’t help but laugh. “I very much doubt it, hon!” Then she headed forward to help her colleagues.
Mulder winced in his chair as he looked at the mounting flush on his partner’s face. He couldn’t picture a worse scenario than this, and he wasn’t optimistic about it improving any time soon.
When Dana’s lips set in a tight white line, he froze. For the life of him, he had no recall of where exactly he’d left his service pistol. Was it back at his seat, in his luggage, or in the toilet?
His eidetic memory simply faded at the grim, flushed face of Dana Katherine.
She grabbed his tie, and pulled him over toward her, ignoring his yelp of pain. “If we’re dying, you and I are going to have sex, damnit.” With that, she attacked his ear ferociously, her lithe tongue darting about the sensitive spot behind his earlobe.
“Gah.” His back burned like liquid fire and he had to maintain a firm hold upon the wildly bucking seats, but as her nails slid up his muscled thigh, any will to resist her onslaught crumbled.
Fox fell back into the seat, his face taut from the heady brew of pleasure and pain. Dana tossed the armrest back up, and her lover’s strong yet agile hand stirred the hem of her silken skirt.
She moved over him as one hand travelled up the pale skin of her thigh, kneading her buttocks under the still wet back of her dress.
Dana knotted her fingers in the short, damp curls of his hair, reveling in the faint tang of ammonia. His calloused gun hand tore at the mother of pearl buttons on her blouse before closing about her firm breast. She arched her back and moaned softly as he circled the ball of his thumb about the rising flesh of her tingling nipple.
Fox’s breath came hard through tightened ribs as he felt his partner’s skin burn with excitement. She busied herself with his fly before seizing his throbbing member in one dainty hand. His teeth clenched, and he rested his head against the seatback, muttering her name as if in prayer.
Then the jet shuddered again, and Dana slid down his legs, wedging herself into what precious little footspace there was in coach.
Both sets of eyes flew open at the sound of silk tearing.
“Ouch! Shit, Mulder, help me up.” Dana reached for the firm hands of her partner, only to find then two inches from her reach.
“Ah, God! Scully, my back.”
“Your back, my ass. You want some before you die, you bend over now!” She didn’t bother to throw back the cascade of auburn hair that flowed sensually over one flashing cerulean eye.
Fox complied, caught by his mounting passion and mortal dread of his partner’s white hot temper. Dana dragged herself up Mulder’s long frame, ignoring the bullets of sweat that broke out across Fox’s pale brow.
“Scully.” She fastened her mouth to his, raking his full bottom lip with her teeth before playfully flicking her tongue inside him.
She kissed him deeply, savoring the sweet taste of his mouth before breaking away.
“Scully.” She said nothing, caught up in trying to extend the lap belt to fit around both of them. “Scully, this is a bad idea.”
Dana dropped the glittering buckles, her heart cold at the sound of his rough voice. “Why?” She traced a tiny hand to the mounting evidence of his arousal, noting his gasp of pleasure.
“If we try anything now, the plane will crash. It has to.”
“The plane’s crashing anyway.” She sounded perfectly reasonable as she slid his flamboyant tie from about his neck.
“It’s leveling off.” He held her dainty waist crushed tight against him as she bit gently into his neck.
Dana breathed into his ear. “I want you, Fox. Like I have wanted no other man.” Her surgeon’s hands deftly popped loose the buttons under his collar, seeking the tight chest she felt underneath.
The cabin lights flickered and went out, plunging the interior into darkness. In the spare light of the still-burning wing lights, Fox watched clear fluid spray out across the top surface of the wing.
His deep hazel eyes met her shining blue irises, and both or them swallowed.
Gently she climbed off of her partner, and belted him in quietly.
She did the same for herself, and dropped the armrest down between them.
Immediately, the lights returned and the speakers crackled to tinny life. “We will be landing immediately, folks. And I don’t expect any problems, though I would recommend you listen to the flight attendants for any instructions they give you. Thank you very much.”
Dana and Fox very pointedly did not hold hands as the plane skimmed closer to the stark gray runway. Instead, both cast about them for some method of pinning together their collapsing garments.
“Too bad, you two.” Scully’s eyes snapped open. She whipped about in her seat to stare at the source of that voice. A short, aging lady sat in the row behind them, wearing too much makeup for a woman a quarter her age and a tasteless brown and orange striped shirt. Her hair was dyed a shade of red closer to orange, and the large plastic choker she wore barely restrained her sagging chin.
“For a while there, it looked like _somebody on this flight would have some fun.” She smiled pleasantly at Special Agent Dana Scully, and returned her gaze to the scene out her window.
Here you go, Rodent. All yours. Sean
Subject: NEW: Colors (3/?) NC17 or higher
COLORS by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright July 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: We’rrrrrrreeeeee baaaacccckkkk! Not nearly enough threats but we couldn’t bear to stay away. BTW, we ain’t scared of no green bugs. No sireeee, you’re going to have to come up with something better than that for this fearless four … So, our stalwart heros have managed to land successfully at the Dallas airport, having once again been frustrated in their efforts at coitus. Texas wasn’t their original destination exactly, but they’re used to facing adversity. Will they find fulfillment in the Lone Star State? Is this perhaps their big chance? Just how serious is Mulder’s back injury? Is there an x-file buried in this story somewhere? Surely their troubles are over … or are they?
Read on and find out if you dare.
WARNING – WARNING – WARNING: If you are offended by profanity, sexually explicit dialogue, the whole idea of Mulder and Scully as sexual beings, gross liberties with characterization, or life in general, this is not the piece for you. If you chose to read it, after that warning and then get all bent out of shape, that’s your problem!
AND NOW … ON WITH THE SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I suppose I should be grateful that you got them out of the restroom, Sean, but I have no idea what to do with them here. Oh well, here goes nothing.
Having waited until the rest of the passengers exited the plane, including the octogenarian with the bright orange hair, Scully and one of the stewardesses finally managed to extract Mulder from his seat and push him down the aisle to the exit. It didn’t escape Dana’s notice, that the matronly stewardess had taken advantage of the situation, using Mulder’s ass as a resting place for her hand as she propelled him forwards. Not even the piercing glare which Dana leveled at her was enough to deter this woman from her moment of pleasure.
Mulder just moaned as another spasm hit, which the stewardess took as encouragement, letting her hand wander further before Dana finally reached around Mulder and batted it away.
“Ladies, ladies, calm down,” counseled Mulder, eager to escape the plane and his role as a manwich. A menage a trois was fine, under the right circumstances, put the present setup was far from ideal.
Concern for the stewardess prompted him to warn her, “My partner has a gun. I’d watch it with the hands if I were you.”
Dana grabbed their coats and luggage from the overhead racks as they went past their old seats and hurled two of the bags at Mulder, ignoring his cries for mercy. The crotchless panties had somehow gotten twisted in their latest attempt at coitus, and the resulting friction was acting as a further irritant to her already frustrated libido. Having finally made their way out of the plane and into the connecting chute to the airport, Dana dumped the luggage to the floor and made one final attempt to groom herself.
She knew she looked a mess, with her hair still tousled from their foray in the restroom, her favorite silk skirt rumpled and water stained, and the buttons all askew on her sheer white blouse.
Mulder, on the other hand, had forgotten his back pain in his fascination with this hussy, whom he had lucked into as a partner.
Never had he suspected, during the course of their many investigations, that hidden under that cool, prim, ice-maiden exterior was this warm, passionate, sultry sex goddess. The tailored suits, which represented the standard FBI uniform, had effectively concealed the lush curves and silken skin, which he now longed to taste again. He much preferred this ravished looking vixen now standing hands on hips, glaring at him, to the perfectly coifed, untouchable secret agent he had known in the past.
“What are you staring at?” Dana stamped her foot in rage, tears of anger pooling in her wide blue-grey eyes. “It’s your fault I’m such a mess. I look like I just fucked the entire first string of the Dallas Cowboys and the reality is I didn’t get any.” Her breath was now coming in tight little gasps.
His back injury forgotten, Mulder dropped his own luggage, and rested his hands on his partner’s shoulders, maneuvering her back against the thin wall of the chute. Before she could utter another word of protest, his lips descended on hers, smothering them in a passionate kiss. Dana responded immediately, parting her lips as she invited his tongue to join hers in further exploration. She could feel the hard length of his manhood pressed against her midsection as his calloused hands massaged the rosy peaks of her firm, ripe breasts. Within seconds, any order she had restored was undone and both of them were panting in a crescendo of desire. The risk of discovery in such a public location, only served to further inflame their passion, as Mulder fumbled with the fly of his jeans, determined to find release from the hot throbbing in his groin.
Dana, equally turned on, molded her voluptuous body closer to his, as she whispered in his ear, “I’ll bet you’ve never done it in an airplane chute.” The appeal of fine satin sheets and luxurious hotel rooms faded when compared to the thrill of having found a location her sexually adventurous partner hadn’t previously explored.
Like a bucket of ice water thrown on her flaming passion came his whispered response, “Actually I have.”
Mulder found himself suddenly sitting on his ass, his engorged member separated from nirvana just centimeters short of fulfillment. Dana, completely unaware of the sight she presented, with her heaving bosom fully exposed and her skirt wadded up around her waist, glared at him as he sat rubbing his injured derriere.
“You’ve actually had sex before in one of these things?”
Mulder kissed any hope of immediate fulfillment goodbye as he watched her tug her clothing back into place, hiding those lush treasures from his wandering eyes. Too late to back out now. The cat was already out of the bag, so to speak. “Well, you don’t want me to lie do you?” As he stuffed his still throbbing organ back into his too tight jeans, he wished he’d had the sense to do just that. He’d thought he’d discovered everything there was to know about prick teasing in high school but this was getting ridiculous.
Anymore of this and he might suffer permanent injury.
The foot was tapping. Now he was in big trouble. No nookie for you, he thought. May as well resign yourself to choking the chicken and pay-per-view in the hotel tonight.
Dana suddenly smiled. “Well, we’re stuck here for right now, at least until we make alternate flight plans. I’m sure we can find somewhere you haven’t done it before. It will give us something to do while we wait for our connection.”
There was only one connection Mulder was waiting for and it had nothing to do with airplanes. His eidetic memory rapidly flashed through the possibilities and decided the only recourse was to lie.
After all, Dana had no way of actually knowing where he’d had intercourse in the past. What she was seeking was virtually impossible.
With that intuitive sense that seemed to be inborn in her sex, she suddenly gave him a cold, calculating look. “Don’t even think about lying to me on this one, loverboy. This is one case where you don’t want to be involved in a campaign of misinformation.”
Shrugging, as if he’d never even considered the possibility, Mulder gathered their scattered luggage and followed her out into the terminal, his eyes locked on the scintillating view of her undulating buttocks. If he looked closely enough, he could almost make out the seams of the crotchless panties under the damp silk skirt.
Forty minutes and a shouting match later, they had acquired two coach tickets for the red-eye into Denver. The brassy blonde at the ticket counter merely smiled when Dana informed her that Denver was not exactly a logical stopping place between Dallas and Los Angeles. If they wanted to wait until tomorrow she’d be able to route them through Phoenix instead. Mulder thanked her nicely and grabbed the offered tickets before Dana further alienated the woman. He’d learned through experience that it wasn’t wise to piss off ticket agents.
A quick dash got them to the tram, which would ferry them to the main terminal, where Dana hoped to find a solution to her present wardrobe difficulties. No sooner had they settled into the two remaining seats at the back of the tram, than Dana hopped into his lap, her eyes flashing with excitement. Even Fox Mulder never would have had sex on one of these things. “Here?”
He tried. He really tried to lie. Even got as far as opening his mouth, but his expression doomed him before he got the first syllable out.
“You’ve done it here? With all these people around?” She quickly scanned the other passengers, most of whom were staring in open fascination at the two agents, locked groin to groin in the back seat. “Have you no sense of shame?”
Thinking that it probably wasn’t in his best interest to point out the double standard inherent in her question, Mulder instead explained, “It was 3am. Sheeeshh, I’m not an exhibitionist you know.” There were definite snickers from the surrounding passengers now.
Settling back into her own seat, Dana crossed her arms and pouted.
“Fine, if you’ve already done it, you’ve already done it. We’ll just have to find somewhere else.” She concentrated. “I know elevators are out. How about escalators?”
Mulder sank lower into his seat, wondering just what she knew about the elevators. Maybe it wasn’t too late to exchange that Denver ticket for a solo flight to Outer Mongolia.
Leaning back against the seat, Dana struggled to bring her rising temper under control. “I can see this is going to be more difficult than I anticipated. Perhaps you can suggest a possibility.” That’s right Dana, show him how reasonable you are.
So what if the man’s given new meaning to the term ‘frequent flyer miles.’ Just stay calm and you’ll get your chance.
Positively squirming now. “At the airport?”
Patience, patience, Dana Katherine. This better be worth it.
“Hell, Mulder, why limit it to the airport? We’ve got six hours before the flight takes off. Just pick somewhere in Dallas.
Surely there’s got to be somewhere in Dallas. But, make it something unique. If you’ve already done it in a restaurant or a club, I don’t want you just picking an alternate restaurant.” She could almost see the gears turning in his head.
“Mulder!” Completely exasperated now. “This can’t be that difficult.” They’d now exited the tram. “I know. How about a cop car? We can claim to need one for our investigation.”
Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. “You’ve actually made it in a cop car? When? Where?”
Please, god, take me now. I do not want to have this conversation with my partner, thought Mulder. “Oh god, Dana. Don’t start asking for all the details. It was a long time ago, before I ever met you. Ancient history.” A sudden flash of inspiration. Maybe prayer did work after all. “A chairlift!”
“A chairlift, I’ve never made it on a chairlift.” Seeing her incredulous stare he tried to explain. “Well, actually, I tried to once, but the skis kept on getting in the way.” Now she was really staring. “We don’t have to wear skis. We could just …” he trailed.
“A chairlift?” Absolute fury. “Where the hell are we going to find a chairlift in Dallas? There’s not a fucking hill over two feet high in this whole damned town.
Okay, Goo, it’s all yours. Go find them a chairlift or whatever.
Okay, I believe this goes to Amp next. Enjoy it kids! Hope it works for you. You know the drill, if you don’t like it, change it. Goo
Subj: Black and Silver
Mulder went and bought two of every analgesic not marketed as being for menstrual cramps. You had to draw limits somewhere, and he drew his at products for bloating and irritability.
So far, the overwhelming impact of Scully in full frontal assault had managed to distract him from the pain in his back, but that could only last so long. To begin with, Scully showed every signs of adding blue balls to his list of ailments. Even if she didn’t, he had a feeling that he was about to make the mistake his gender had made ever since time began or Adam ate the apple, take your pick of origin of the species, and let his cock get him in trouble.
He sighed, remembering a description of the Kennedy men – very smart until they got near a woman, then all the blood rushed from their heads to their heads. He could feel a case of brain damage setting in, and just had to hope he had enough Excedrin and Bayer and Tylenol and anything else to cope with the aftermath.
Scully took advantage of the break to go to the ladies’ room. Take a leak, get the panties seated to the sides instead of the middle, get the diaphragm out, retrieve the diaphragm from the next stall where it had flipped, wash it off and reload. Maybe she’d just give up and start the pill and fuck what the Pope said. Rome wasn’t a whole lot happier about the diaphragm and condoms, of course, but the Pill was definitely considered evidence of the Antichrist on Earth.
She stood looking into the mirror, trying to do some kind of damage control on her clothes. From what she’d seen, of course, she’d look right at home in Texas in the teeny-tiny silk skirt and the skimpy blouse if only she had the big hair to go with it.
Something about the FBI pageboy really scuttled the effect.
She was just getting her blouse fastened right when she realized that eyes were fastened on her. Slowly, deliberately, she craned around to see a small, mousy woman with an absurd hat and a Laura Ashley dress watching her (the type of dress, Scully suddenly remembered, that her amazed grandmother had once said she wouldn’t even wear to clean a house). Their eyes met, and the drudge was suddenly standing there, in Scully’s personal space, looking at her with noisomely sincere eyes. She pressed a little Bible into Scully’s hand and burbled at her, “Poor child. But the Lord has room for you, too. A life fallen to harlotry need not cast you forth from his love. Accept Jesus as your savior and rise from your shame!”
Scully stared, dumbfounded. Then she yanked her hand away, whipped out her FBI ID and snapped, “You are impeding a federal investigation. Religious solicitation in public spaces and restrooms is prohibited under state and federal laws, and by decision of the Supreme Court.” The utter consternation on the creature’s face warmed the cockles of Scully’s heart, since she ranked this kind of thing with the rest of the panhandlers she had to deal with. “You will cease and desist from such activities forthwith.” She snapped her badge folder shut with an officious flick of the wrist, fixed her lipstick and swayed back out, stalking the Wild Mulder.
She found him framed by tacky, alternating, black-and-mirrored stripes on the walls that put her in mind of prison bars. Hm.
Prison. She didn’t want to see him behind bars, but maybe in handcuffs… He was reading the backs of several boxes, and ranking them in the order he planned to take them.
“All right, Mulder. Airports. The control tower?” He blushed, and she had thought red heads were bad for that. “You’re kidding me.”
“Ah, my second year with the FBI, we took a security tour of National and, well… .”
“I don’t want to know. The moving walkways?” A wince this time.
She reeled off options as they continued down the concourse to a booth of tourist brochures. He was appallingly well-laid. She flipped through some tourist lit, looking for something close and unique. “The Wax Museum?”
“Madame Tussaud’s with Phoebe. She said there was something about being surrounded by models of upstanding stiffs.” Scully winced at a sudden notion of Phoebe Greene, pouncing on Mulder at a display of the Tower of London.
“Seven Flags?” – “Annheuser-Busch, the Sea Serpent.” – “A sports arena?”
“There are interesting ways to stay warm at a Redskins game.’ The list went on and on. In his thirty-four years the man had managed to wrack up a list she would have thought impossible. No wonder guys always felt so confident if they were getting that much. But who were they getting it from?
Scully found herself hating Phoebe more than ever. It sounded like Phoebe had screwed his brains out, a delight that was presently denied to Dana Katherine-not-fucking-at-ALL-Scully. She looked him up and down. The narrow hips, the tight abs she knew were under that rumpled shirt, the swimmer’s shoulders. God, she wanted to lick his five-o-clock shadow and just devour the man where he stood. She squirmed.
By the time they’d found a brochure for a place where Mulder had never gotten laid, it was time to board the flight for Denver.
Scully watched him try to get the luggage by bending his knees instead of his back, and just grabbed the stuff. She needed to keep him in some kind of working order for when she finally found a place to jump the damned man’s bones.
She stalked up to the gate, reminding herself of the nuns who used to chant, “sublimate, my child, sublimate.” She wanted to sublimate the revoltingly cheerful clerk into the emergency room, but she held her temper.
They boarded the narrow-body jet, and the attendant showed them to their seats. In.Two.Separate.Rows. In a plane packed with vacationers and some bowling team returning to their hometown from a competition. Scully spent the whole flight fending off the attentions of the forty-something insurance salesman and star bowler sitting between her and the aisle. She didn’t dare get up and try to get Mulder into THIS toilet. She’d have had to get past Bowler-balls first. Besides, Mulder had worn a look of sheer, superstitious dread from the moment he saw her take in the location of the toilet at the back of the plane. He’d whispered something that sounded suspiciously like an Our Father and told her he was sure the rivets holding the tail on would fall out if she tried anything.
By the time they landed in Denver, Scully’s panties were right back where they weren’t supposed to be again, she badly wanted to hike up the garter belt that was getting pulled off her butt by the stockings, she was soaking her skirt, the bowler hadn’t looked away from her nipples in half an hour (he got dizzy during turbulence), and she was contemplating just cuffing Mulder in some dark corner of the airport bar and having her way with him, right then, right there.
And he headed for baggage claim to get the luggage that had been sent on. Oooooh! She followed him, studying his back pockets and licking her lips. She barely took in the absurd architecture, the automatic doors that didn’t work until you tried to pull them apart, or the awkward distances between gates. Her attention was.
. . elsewhere. But then she saw the ski lift. Luggage lift, actually, but close enough. What had Mulder said? He’d never done it on a chair lift? Scully only hesitated a moment. It had been the red-eye, the vacationers had already gone down to the one, mobbed carousel where the luggage was taking forever to be distributed. Here came one of the lifts and she did a Mulder and acted on impulse.
Big bins, like laundry bins. Hook her little, high-heeled foot around his ankle, grab the side for leverage and shove! Mulder flipped into the bin and Scully was over the side right after him.
He barely had time to realize he was lying on Samsonite when she’d straddled him, her mouth drinking his, her tongue running free along the roof of his mouth.
And the bin rocketed through the strap curtain to the back, and someone threw in three soft-sided suitcases without even looking.
Scully gasped, Mulder squeaked, the luggage shifted and the bin started to climb on whatever obscure mechanism carried it until it was about fifteen feet off the ground. Where the motors burned out, and everything came to a roaring halt.
Okay, I think this now goes to Amp? Camping in Hell indeed!
Ah ha, the plot thickens. Just what will Amp do to get them out of this particular mess? Tune in tomorrow, same time, same place, if you want to find out more. And keep those cards and letters coming boys and girls. We love mail in public or private.
by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright July 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: Someone mentioned that warnings need to be included with this piece that it shouldn’t be read by people trying to recover from abdominal surgery because they might bust a gut laughing. Consider yourselves warned… When last we saw our intrepid twosome, they were stranded in a luggage carrier above Denver International Airport, pursuing something other than a suspect. Now, most people in similar circumstances would be concentrating all their energies on figuring out an escape route.
But, as we all know, our stalwart heroes are not most people.
Read on to see what happens next.
WARNING – WARNING – WARNING: Short on space, so suffice to say, it’s offensive if you’re easily offended. NC17 or higher.
All comments to: , , ,
The usual blahdiblah here. These characters aren’t ours. We borrowed them without asking. Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, etc. hold all rights. No infringement intended.
My installment of Colors…it’s short and porn…
Subj: Red Hot
It was tight in the baggage lift. And dark. And there was luggage digging into Mulder’s leg. Scully however, had other designs than getting out. “Roll over,” she hissed softly, rather like a snake. Her face was flushed, her hair askew and it was evident that just because they were stuck here was absolutely no reason in HELL that they couldn’t finish what they’d started.
Mulder stared at his partner. Finally. Finally she was taking some consideration for his back. Finally. A smile lit up his face. Joy leapt into his heart. She really did love him after. After all this time. She really did.
They moved and shuffled and kicked Samsonite luggage out of the way until Mulder was on the bottom with Scully sprawled out on top, in a primodordial crouch, eying the roof of the lift as though it were some sort of pterodactyl waiting to come and bear her away as food for it’s screaming children.
Hunkered there, eyes on the roof, make-up running, shirt torn, skirt twisted, she looked rather like some ancient priestess about to sacrifice him to the ancient warrior god of women. Oh Great Reno in the sky… consider this thy humble gift…who will plant his goodness in the furrows of my love…so that we may feast upon his heart and blood…maybe he’d taken too many OTC medications…
Scully’s fingers were deft on the buttons of his 501’s. Her hands slid down the sides of his blue jeans, “Lift your butt up,”
she hissed, hair falling into her eyes. Mulder obeyed, rather frightened not to. The pants and the silk boxers slid down to his knees. The belt pinched his butt. Now Mulder knew why Scully was on top. Women. He frowned, tried to get her attention.
But Scully wasn’t paying any attention to his head…well, not that head, anyway. She’d shoved herself down on top of a suit bag, and was lowering her mouth and Oh God. At least he was getting some…Scully’s mouth was warm and moist and wet and gentle and she sucked and pulled and Mulder’s hand grasped her strawberry blonde hair in an affirmation of Oh god yes, please don’t stop…Her hand was on his scrotum tugging and pulling and.
. .how did Sister Dana Katherine Scully learn about this? Maybe the stories were right…date a Catholic or a Jew for head…in and out and he arched his back in the pleasure of warm, pulsating goodness…
He felt suddenly cold and opened his eyes. Dana was smiling, an evil, wicked smile that curled across her face and fell into her eyes. And even in the almost complete dark, he could see the damp, dank glitter of her eyes as she crawled up towards where he lay, his shaft, primed by the soaking incense of her mouth lay hard against his stomach. Dana was thrilled. He would fill her as she sat atop him and rode. Fill every part of her with the gentle warmness and the strong, rigid force of desire. “Does my big boy want some more? Does he?” Her voice purred in a deep contralto.
The blouse came open, and Mulder’s hands reached for the rounded globes, the sharp, hard nipples yearning for the releasing touch of his mouth. He pulled his head up, not giving a damn about future chiropractor visits, ready to bite and suck and she was suddenly on top of him, her skirt around her waist, her dripping clit fragrant in the small, enclosed space that had become her heaven and… “I thought they said there was two people stuck in here…” the voice yelled as a flashlight reflected off the lift. “You guys okay in there?”
Scully’s head went up suddenly, making a loud “Bong” against the metal of the roof. She screeched in sudden pain and the knowledge that this would take at least three stitches.
That’s it, Sean. It’s all yours. Amp
From: Monkey Boy
Dana hated vinyl. The way it softened and glued itself under her thighs was atrocious. She’d sat in the back of her family’s car often enough as a little girl, on her way to see her father off.
She’d thought then that the smell of vinyl on a warm day in a car was the worst thing possible. She was rethinking her position.
Ugly burgundy vinyl glued itself to Special Agent Dana Scully, and her rumpled skirt did very little to stop it. And for some unknown reason, the orderlies here didn’t use Lysol to disinfect the examination table. Oh, no. They used some kind of industrial cleaner that smelled like mothballs and left a residue that made her legs itch.
The plastic drapes were closed, providing a modicum of privacy.
Scully made the most of it, trying to piece together her blouse.
It was readily apparent that the flimsy silk had long since given up the ghost. She pulled Mulder’s jacket about her, trying not to let the gauze pad slip from the crown of her head. God, this was embarrassing. More so for her partner. Thankfully the fire had been small though.
Dana was tugging at a still smoldering portion of Fox’s jacket sleeve when the doctor entered. He looked to be about sixty, with a wild crown of speckled hair receding from a deeply lined face.
His eyebrows stuck out in the same riotous mass as his hair, and brushed the top of his small, round, Lennon-esque glasses. And he was at least six feet, two inches tall, if he was a foot.
He didn’t look at his chart before speaking to her. “Ms. Scully, I presume.” His lips were a white line, and his basso voice wavered as he spoke. “I’m Doctor Spleenich.
“Is Agent Mulder-” She started to hop off the bed, but the doctor stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Your partner-” Spleenich nearly gagged holding back laughter at this. “your partner will be fine. He’ll need rest though. Um, Ms. Scully… ?”
“I’m a medical doctor. What is his condition?” She winced as Dr.
Spleenich started clearing away matted blood from the cut on her head.
“Well, he pulled all sorts of muscles, and broke two fingers on one hand. But it was when that luggage basket snapped free from its railing that he suffered … other soft tissue injuries.”
Spleenich bit his lip. “Ah. Bruises. That kind of…” He stopped, his eyes watering. “Nurse. Um, nurse, I’ll need… help here”
A nurse entered the small enclosure, no older than twenty-five but endowed like an actress from one of Fox’s little videos. Scully winced as this smirking blonde vixen whose name tag read ‘Mary-Jo’
tried to assist in cleaning the scalp wound. Spleenich continued.
“The policemen said you’d followed a suspicious individual into the baggage area?”
“Yes. Ow!” Thankfully Mulder had kept to the story.
“I take it that it was this person that got the… drop… on him.” Mary-Jo couldn’t stifle her giggles at this.
“Yes,” Scully gritted. Not merely did she have to suffer this floozie’s whinnying, but she had to bounce everything in Dana’s face. Mulder would appreciate this situation a lot more than she.
“Agent Scully.” Although Dana couldn’t see her face, it sounded as though Mary-Jo was fighting for control. “Everyone here in the ER is really sorry you didn’t get what you were after.” Spleenich missed a stitch as his hands shook.
“Thanks.” She was burning a bright red, and absolutely mortified.
She wondered if she hadn’t quite gotten all of Mulder’s clothes back on before the EMT had arrived.
“In a way Agent Scully, you should consider yourself lucky.”
Spleenich continued. “When you came through the drop ceiling like that, there was twenty feet of open air underneath you. If you hadn’t hit the hot dog stand, the landing could have been much rougher.” Mary-Jo’s cleavage shook as she fought laughter. “The grease fire was completely accidental, and that airport worker wasn’t hurt, really.”
“And on the bright side, you can go back to your… pursuit … later.” Mary-Jo barely managed to squeeze out the last of her sentence.
Dana had barely noticed the stitches in her scalp; her attention was focused on the cuts her fingernails were leaving in the palms of her hands. She was rather bruised all over, but she’d be damned before she was treated the way Fox was at this moment.
Eventually Mary-Jo managed to slap a gauze pad on Dana’s head and flee the room. Scully wondered whether or not she could effectively plant evidence in that bimbo’s purse.
Shaking off images of Denver PD conducting a body cavity search, Dana turned to the doctor. “Where’s Agent Mulder?”
“Before you see him, I want to get some promises from you.”
Spleenich was almost serious as he spoke.
But Dana was not in the mood to brook any delay. “I am his next of kin, and-”
“Whoa, hold on there. I just want you to know he needs a couple of days in bed, AND I MEAN REST! You get it?” She was a bright red all the way past her torn collar, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’ll sign off on that bogus ‘line of duty’ report, but you and him have to lay off sometime.”
“Agent Mulder and I are partners, and -” Dana flustered quickly, her clear blue eyes fluttering as she skirted the truth.
“I don’t care what you do on ‘company time.’ Look, I’ve done trauma work for years, I know how things can get with coworkers.”
Spleenich waggled a scruffy eyebrow at her. “but when you’re pinned down under the OR table, hogtied with surgical tubing, whatever you’re doing’s gone too far. Capish?”
In a valiant attempt to forestall any further stories that would require picturing Dr. Spleenich in the altogether, Scully nodded quickly. She was quietly grinding flakes of calcium carbonate off her molars at the thought of being chastised without having ever been allowed to do more than just taste the forbidden fruit.
“What else?” Scully managed to keep Spleenich’s eye, and was glad his gaze wasn’t wandering.
“If you really need to throw spice into your love life, dress up or something. Use handcuffs, you got ‘em. Don’t go swinging through DIA, okay?”
Dr. Spleenich was half way past the hanging curtain before he turned back to face Dana. “Ma’am, the two of you might want to consider couples counseling. Playing around is one thing, but this is… well, the hottest thing in that airport was that grease fire.”
A passing nurse rapped him on the shoulder with a knuckle as she passed by rapidly. “Don’t count on that boss. Don Quixote is ready to leave.” With that, she was gone.
On to rodent. Monkey Boy
Help! I pass. Can someone else take this? rodent I’ll try it. Goo
Subj: Wine Red
Spleenich’s scrawny shoulders bobbed and weaved through the busy emergency room, and Scully did approximately that right after him.
Finding Mulder was no problem, no problem at all.
“You have got to let me out of here. You’ve got to let me out, now. I don’t have much time… “
Spleenich ducked past a curtain. Scully followed, spotted her partner standing there with his mouth open and a vaguely panicky look on his face. Then he saw her… and immediately got Spleenich, two nurses and the examining table between them.
“No! I’ve already done it in an ER!” He tried to head the issue off. She pouted. God, he had a limp, two fingers on his left hand splinted, he moved stiffly enough she’d bet a back brace was under that loose shirt and the bulge in his jeans looked more like an ice-pack than a hot night and for all that, oh yes, the sight of him could still turn the spit to glue in her mouth. She sighed.
Spleenich looked back and forth between them as the two nurses jiggled, er, giggled and scampered away. Mulder didn’t even notice. Spleenich crooked a finger and coaxed, “Come on out from behind there, young man. She’s not going to get you.” Scully grinned at him, but Spleenich gave her a scolding look.
“I’ve already told her you need to rest, let that back get a bit better and…well. You need rest before she can pursue the… social intercourse you were engaged in.” Spleenich leered. Mulder almost hyperventilated.
“You don’t understand. This is gonna get us killed! Scully, I’ve been thinking about this, I don’t have anything in the files but.
. . “
“Mulder, this is not an X-File.” Spleenich looked confused, his eyebrows waggling with consternation. Caterpillars on mescaline, crossed Scully’s mind. She shuddered. “Professional inquiry, doctor.” She turned back to him, wondering just how much pain killer he was taking, and which one. Spleenich solved that.
“Whatever. You two want to investigate porn together, fine. Far be it from me to discourage a representative of the law trying to get her man…” He leered at Scully. My only concern is that you take a brief hiatus.”
He was scribbling on a pad, and rooting through a drawer, tossing packages of bubble packed pills on the examining bench. Mulder watched with a dazed look on his face and the pile started to avalanche off the side.
“There! That should hold you for about a week. Muscle relaxants, pain killers, anti-inflammatories, all kinds of goodies. Take these once a day, these three times… ” and on and on. Mulder watched him, swallowed. “Got that?” Mulder nodded. Spleenich looked surprised.
“Eidetic memory,” hissed Scully next to him. “Can we get out of here, now?”
“Uh, you need to shop, don’t you Scully?”
“No. Our bags were sent to the hotel.”
“Uhhhh, why don’t you go get us rooms. TWO rooms.” Spleenich smirked and handed him a bag for his pills. Scully scowled as Mulder scrambled to get out the door ahead of her, and into a cab.
When she tried to follow, he leaned out and blocked her. “No, no.
I just need to, ah, see someone first… ” and he pulled the door shut.
Hurt? Hmm. No, she didn’t feel hurt… not really. More of a matter of a slow burn in the belly and a distinct suspicion that wherever he was going might be one of the few places he hadn’t done it. She grabbed a cab and went to get cleaned up, changed, and to try to find a place to pounce on Mulder where he’d never been pounced on before.
And the phone rang.
“Agent Scully.” She straightened and felt her breath whoosh out of her. “I’m glad I was able to contact you. I understand you had a bit of an… accident.” Skinner’s voice was drier than ever.
“Ahhh, yes sir.”
“Would you care to explain to me how you managed to suffer a twenty foot fall in a baggage cart, with Agent Mulder, into a hotdog stand?”
“We, well…” Hold it. Why was she worried? Mulder always had accidents. “Sir, Agent Mulder tripped and I was attempting to ascertain his condition.” There!
“Tripped.” She heard a sigh. “I understand the burns. The bruises make sense. But apparently Agent Mulder suffered a pre-existing muscle strain to the back, and some degree of…bruising of soft tissues.” She could hear him wince.
“Which, fortunately, will heal quite rapidly.” Yes, indeedy!
Fortunate, and some of the fastest healing tissues in the body she thought, with immense satisfaction. Now, so long as there was no mention of the clothes…
“And the report I received of the incident reflects other circumstances. Agent Scully… ?” Oh, she could just imagine the look on his face.
“Sir, the night flight was not during standard business hours. I feel it is totally inappropriate to have to account for all conduct during… “
“Agent Scully,” he cut her off. “I do appreciate those points.
And I will not pursue the matter at further length. One request, please. Please leave Agent Mulder intact? You two will be a real help to Davis out in L.A. But he needs you to try to stop fires, not start them. And Agent Mulder will be much more use to him if he can stand.” Scully grinned.
“Is that all, sir?”
“I want your word, Agent Scully. I mean it. I do not want to see further anomalous medical claims for injuries incurred during simple travel.”
“No more injuries during travel. Yes sir. Understood sir. Thank you, sir.” She chirped her goodbye and hung up.
Skinner, in D.C., hung up and put his head on the desk and laughed until he cried. “Oh, Agent Mulder. You are in serious trouble.* Just hope you get to L.A. before she gets to you.”
“Yes, Father. Have you ever heard of them?” Fox Mulder had searched for a real, old-fashioned Roman Catholic or Greek Orthodox church, but this fancy, schmancy new-age box had been the best he could do. He swallowed and tried to ignore how he felt calling anyone ‘father,’ and waited for yet another priest to tell him he’d never heard of the Calusari.
“In fact, while I was doing my doctoral thesis in theology and comparative religions I did encounter them. I’ve had to look carefully to learn of them, and no one has ever asked… May I ask how you came to learn of them?”
“Line of duty. Sir, it’s important. Lives may be at stake.” He knew he sounded desperate, but the DIA incident had finally convinced him, and the painful throbbing in the family jewels underscored the urgency. He swallowed and asked again, hearing the panicky note in his own voice. “I need to speak with them. Do you know any way I could contact them? Is there a local affiliate?”
The priest eyed the young man sitting across from him. Voice slightly husky, strained. Bulge. Hmm. He sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to just confess to simple temptations of the flesh, my son? Admittedly, I don’t hear that one so much these days, but if that’s the trouble… ” He tried to smile reassuringly.
Mulder shifted, winced at pains in his back, wrist, groin, and all kinds of other less important places. “I’m not Catholic. But I.
. . I have reason to believe outside influence in a situation that has already caused injury and may lead to more dire consequences.”
He winced at the thought of what could happen if he was left alone to the tender mercies of his partner again. Winced again, this time for more easily discernible reasons. “Ah, is there a restroom I could use?” The priest gave him directions and he limped off down the cheery, brightly-lit and tiled hall that was lined with children’s crayon pictures of crucifixions. Shuddered.
Ah, relief. He went about what his Oxford roomy had called “God’s work,” adjusted the cold-pack that was all they could do for what Scully had done to him, and turned to wash his hands. As he looked up at the mirror, though, the color drained from his face. The room had gone dark behind him. And symbols had traced themselves in smokey patterns on the glass… symbols he’d seen before. He remembered an old woman, dead chickens, blood in a chalice. And saw the symbols on the glass. Spun to try to wrench open the door, but had no luck.
A sickly scent of cherry air freshener was heavy in the air.
Lightbulbs exploded in showers of tiny glass fragments and the sink ran on and off, turbulence in the pipes sounding remarkably like Rosanne Barr-Arnold singing the Star-Spangled Banner. Mulder cowered in a corner, covering his head and waiting for the forces of evil to disrupt everything possible in this room. When quiet finally fell, he looked up to find light streaming through the frosted glass of the window, illuminating the message scrawled across the mirror.
“For a good time, call Fox Mulder… ” and his cell phone number.
He shuddered. Scrubbed it from the glass, and washed the… whatever… off his hands. He didn’t care to think too long about what he’d just wiped off that mirror.
The priest was waiting for him when he returned, a piece of paper in his hand. He studied Mulder’s pale, rather taut face. The young man looked quite alarmed, now that he thought of it.
“Here, child. I took better notes than I thought. There are Calusari here in Denver. The Skiing Calusari. And you’d said you were going to Los Angeles?” Mulder nodded, numb with terror. “I found a group of surfing Calusari, the Beach Brothers, who work in L.A.”
Mulder breathed a profound sigh of relief and carefully tucked the note in next to the obligatory condoms in his wallet. “Thank you, Father. You may have just helped save two lives.” And he left, ignoring the puzzled look cast after him by a priest who had no notion how evil could haunt a man.
Mulder crouched down in the little space next to the television cabinet, hoping that if Scully came looking for him she’d overlook him. He had no idea what level of X-File he was seeing here, but feared any more risks. The curse might be on Scully, might be on him, or might just be attracted to intense emotions. After all, the old man had said the evil recognized him. And that message the damned school-demon had left… ‘I’ll be watching’? Was that it?
God, he knew he was upset, but now he was forgetting things. For the eighth time in three minutes he peeked around the cabinet, assuring himself he was alone. When had this started? When Scully had… oooh, god. He didn’t dare think about her sucking his finger just yet. NOT a good idea.
And then Skinner had come in. Yeah. That was the beginning of all this. SO, might be him, Scully, Skinner, anything. Hell, it might be bad karma! What had he done in his last life to deserve this?
Been a tease? He dialed the Denver number, introduced himself.
“I… I had an encounter with your associates in Maryland.”
“We know.” The deep, accented voice was calm. “You gained the attention of forces you should not. You are in distress?”
Distress? Oh yesss. “Um, I need help. I have a problem, I don’t know if you can help, or if it even involves you, but I think it might. I needed to check, see if you could, I don’t know, run a diagnostic. Check me and my partner out?”
“Tell us, Agent Mulder. We are listening.”
That’s it. Who wants it next? Goo
Subj: Neon Orange
The knock startled Mulder. Scully probably wouldn’t knock.
But then again…he checked the peephole. A young man, blonde buzzcut, wrap around raybans, and a black t-shirt advertising Interview with a Vampire. Long loose blue jeans.
Mulder opened the door. “Father Skeeter.” The young man extended a hand. “Man, they told me you were having problems, and I’ve always wanted to meet a fibbie up close and personal.”
Mulder took the hand, watched as Father Skeeter shuffled into the room. “You attract the attention of the nasties? Tough shit man. Really tough shit.” He considered Mulder. “What the hell happened to you?”
“What were you told?” Mulder asked, nervously.
“Just that you’d helped out on a case, that you’d attracted the attention of some big and major nasties…” Skeeter flopped onto the bed. “Sorry about the clothes man…I do ski resort ministries on the side…Glad I’m not a catholic. Man, I sincerely do not think I could handle celibacy with all the ski bunnies. Woof. So what’s happening? The spirits did that?”
Mulder swallowed. “Not exactly.”
He described the situation, watching as Skeeter’s eyes got rounder and rounder, bigger and bigger.
“Oh shit. She’s next door?”
“I guess. I haven’t seen her.” Mulder swallowed. “It started out so innocently. Just a quick fuck in the office. And the next thing I knew I was landing on a fry daddy.”
“Well, I don’t think your partner’s possessed by anything more devastating than hormones. Although I have tried to get permission to make PMS a minor form of possession. You should see my landlady the day before she goes on the rag…flames shoot out of her ears and her eyes turn black…But something is definitely out there…when was the last time you had sex?”
“With another person?” Mulder asked.
“No, with an orangutan. Yes. With another person.”
“Four or five months ago.”
“Does your partner get it on a regular basis?”
“Well, she’s got a vibrator in her sock drawer…” Mulder mused.
“I take it that means the answer is no?”
Skeeter nodded. “You ever dated any witches?”
“Well, there was Phoebe Green…”
“Witches. Not Bitches. You know, followers of Wicca?”
“Especially after you and Dana Scully were made partners?”
He thought back. “I turned down Nia Wilson. She’s one of Melissa’s friends.”
Skeeter nodded. “This was before you met up with the Calusari in need of fashion police.”
Mulder considered the young priest sprawled on his bed. “You should check out a mirror before you make rude comments.”
“You dress too good for a straight man, anybody ever tell you that?”
“I’ve had my admirers among the male sex. What? You cruisin’
without ever seeing me in my speedos?”
“If I ever fall so low I hope…look, this was before you met up with the Calusari?”
“She thought you were attracted to Dana, and put a spell so that if you ever decided to pump the mustard together you’d be constantly interrupted. Has style actually. And then after the Calusari bit, some minor demon with a really wicked sense of humor attached himself to the curse.” Skeeter threw open the windows. “How long’s your lay over?”
“Well, bitchin’. I can’t do much overnight…Tell you what, I’ll call the Beach Brothers. They can really chill. Last Calusari convention they did this kick ass rendition of “Little ole Demon from Pasadena.” Smooth harmony. Really, really smooth harmony.”
Skeeter tucked his shades into a pocket. “Where is this harbinger of misfortune you call a partner?”
“Let’s go see her. I’m interested in meeting any woman who can cause this much pain and not even have a whip with her.”
“I’ll set you up on a date.” Mulder muttered.
Scully’s mouth narrowed as Skeeter poured forth on a discourse of how changes in the astral plane can be detected by any magical being. Her eyes had already assumed a look Mulder knew from experience would end in a great deal of mental anguish on his part.
“How do I know you are Calusari? You could be just some idiot friend of Mulder’s. That’s what you look like. You could even be Bureau.”
Skeeter blinked. “I don’t know? Want me to preform a mass and an absolution?”
Scully seemed to be considering this. “Not tonight. I’ve got a headache. Okay. No sex. I won’t screw him.”
Skeeter nodded. “Now, you know that ban doesn’t apply to other…uhmm…unattached males.”
Scully’s eyes raked him up and down. “You keep that up, and I’ll show you a new use for all those candles.”
Skeeter swallowed. “You’re lucky I’m not gay.”
“Then you’d be propositioning Mulder trying to convince him that those disgusting boxer-briefs of his cut off the circulation to his balls…” Scully snorted. “Okay. No sex. But your beach brothers better be able to lift this thing.” She went to Skeeter’s seat on the bed and put one knee beside his thigh, leaned over him.
“If you’re wrong. If you’re wrong in just the slightest little thing, I’m coming back. I’m coming back, just for you. And I carry a fucking gun.”
“So that’s why you don’t bring your vibrator on cases.” Mulder smirked.
He was curled on the bed, feeling the muscle relaxants course through his body, lull him into sleep. Scully had been very nice, once she finished hitting him for the gun comment. She’d even ordered the room service and put the blue gel packets down in the bottom of the ice bucket for him. No ball games tonight. Oh well.
Mulder yawned, considered the made for tv movie flickering on the screen. He’d forgotten who was in it or what was happening. He just hoped there’d be at least one bedroom…oh never mind. Mr.
Happy wasn’t too happy right now…
The door opened. Dana Scully in shorts and a t-shirt. Mulder started to relax until he saw the bottle of baby oil. “I thought you agreed. Father Skeeter said and then you…and you promised that you wouldn’t…and and and…”
“Shut up.” Scully replied coolly, stripping the sheets off her partner. He was naked except for the ice pack. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell. Scully I am not…I refuse…I’ll file rape…”
“Shut up and roll over.”
“I don’t…I’m not a backdoor type of…” Mulder realized he was babbling and grabbed for the sheet. Sat up suddenly. OH SHIT.
“That’s why I want you to roll over.” Scully pressed him back against the bed. “Haven’t you ever had a backrub?”
Mulder considered his partner with a jaundiced eye. “You promise? No feeling the general and his troops?”
Scully shook her head. “I want you Mulder. I want you a lot, but no woman ever wanted a man that badly. Trust me on this one.
Roll over and calm down.”
Mulder considered his partner. Rolled over. In truth, he was scared not to.
He heard the bottle squeeze and then felt her hands, warm and slick across his back. She pushed and pulled and rubbed and kneaded…it felt so incredibly, incredibly good…He sighed.
The kneading would stop occasionally, as Dana went for more oil.
Mulder sighed in pleasure, enjoying the sensation, enjoying the feeling of her sitting on his legs, her small legs beside his.
Mulder closed his eyes. Sighed in sheer pleasure.
“OH CLUSTER FUCK.” Scully’s voice cut through his pleasure.
“OH FUCKING SHITHELLFUCKITDAMNITALLTOHELL…”
Mulder immediately tried to raise up, rolled over dumping his partner onto the other half of the bed. He was rewarded with her screech, the feeling of those small legs tangled with his.
“WHAT?” Mulder screeched.
“It was baby oil. I bought it at the FUCKING gift store. I swear.
I swear it was baby oil…” Scully’s voice was rising in sheer panic as she stared at him, eyes getting wider and wider.
Mulder felt his back. Baby oil. Glanced at Scully. Whose hands were bright orange. A rather heinous shade of neon orange.
He raced to the restroom to survey the damage. OH HOLY SHIT. Oh hell, oh hell ohfuckinghshitfuckitallanddamnitalltohell…
It’s all yours. Amp
Okay guys, let me know if this one sucks the big one. Rodent
Subj: Ice Blue
Stridex Medicated Pads, baking soda, silver polish, steel wool, vinegar, paste wax, club soda, and Tide. Definitely the strangest room service order he’d ever seen. The racket behind the door of room 1121 just added to the sense of mystery. Boy, oh boy, working in the kitchen had never offered this kind of excitement.
Knuckles poised to knock on the door again, when it was yanked open to reveal a gorgeous, albeit slightly sodden redhead. Whoa shit, this babe had nipples like missile silos and the soaked white tshirt clung to her frame in a way that left very little to the imagination. Oh god, the guys hadn’t lied about the benefits of handling the room service orders. Wait until they heard about this.
Oh yeah, better remember your job. “Ummm, miss … I mean, maam, … uh, I have your order.” Quick, give her the cart, asshole, before she notices your boner. Oh god, maybe she should notice, maybe then she’d invite him in. Fantasy on top of fantasy tumbled furiously through his brain as he waited to see what she’d do.
She snatched the receipt out of his hand and scrawled a signature across it just as a wet washcloth flew across the room, hitting the TV screen with a splat, before it slid to the floor. “Scully, god damn it, Scully. I’m going to kill you for this.” Uh oh, didn’t sound like that guy was interested in a threesome. Didn’t even sound like he was interested in a twosome.
The woman barely even flinched, just dug some bills out of the pocket of her shorts, and stuffed them in his hand. Before he had a chance to say thanks, she shut the door in his face, leaving him to ponder what physical malady could possibly cause an otherwise healthy looking person’s hands to turn that disgusting shade of orange. A careful perusal of the bills in his hand convinced him that whatever it was, the bills didn’t appear to be contaminated. Still, just to be sure, he’d zap them in the microwave when he got back to the kitchen.
Mulder was still standing in the tub, furiously scrubbing his back with one of the few remaining dry towels, when Dana returned to the bathroom. Picking her way around the puddles and sodden linen she transferred her goodies from the cart to the counter. “Calm down, Mulder. I’m sure I’ve got something that will work here.” She shut her eyes for a minute to concentrate. “Let’s see, is it better to mix the vinegar with the Tide or try each one separately?
… Oh, what the hell, I’ve got plenty here. We can do both… SHIT! They forgot the scrub brush.”
Mulder had now backed into the furthest corner of the tub and was holding the soaked towel out in front of him like a shield. “Tide?
Vinegar? What the hell? Is that paste wax? Don’t you come near me with that shit.”
Dana advanced, holding the paste wax in one hand and a toothbrush in the other. “Don’t be such a baby, Mulder. It won’t hurt you and it works wonders for getting tar spots off the floor.”
“I am not a fucking floor, Scully, and I don’t remember reading that tar was on the list of ingredients of that crap you smeared all over my back either. I let you try the toothpaste, the shampoo, and the shaving cream, but I definitely draw the line at paste wax.” Droplets of water spattered the room as he violently shook his head. “NO!”
“Fine, be like that.” There was nothing perky about her flounce as she turned back to the counter. “How about club soda? You can’t object to a little club soda can you?” She already had the bottle open as she turned to show him the label.
The hazel eyes glittered as he stared at her suspiciously. “It’s just club soda? Are you sure? You didn’t put any vinegar in it while your back was turned did you?” Trust no one, definitely a dogma to live by, partner or not.
“No, I did not put any vinegar in it. Now, turn around and let me try this.” Mulder shivered as the cool liquid trickled in icy rivulets down his back.
“Shit, Scully! Where do they store that stuff? The freezer section?” Poised as she was, on the edge of the tub, Dana was able to block his efforts to turn around by planting one knee firmly on his buttocks and using the arm not busy with the washcloth to wedge his shoulders against the tiled wall. His squirming efforts to elude her grasp resulted in increased pressure, partially cutting off his airway as her arm slipped from his shoulders to his neck.
“Scully, you’re choking me,” he gasped, as he slid down the slick wall into the tub, bashing his knee against the soap dish en route.
Dana barely caught herself, so distracted had she been by the thrust of his firm ass against her knee. The wetness in her crotch now had little to do with the water that soaked the rest of her clothing. The orange blotches which covered his back might detract somewhat from his overall appearance but, oh god, the feel of him was still delicious.
Hobbling slightly, Mulder still managed to extract himself from the tub and make good time into the bedroom. A smothered giggle followed him as Dana noticed the two dainty orange handprints, one on each buttock. “Branded, marked by a brand of shame. What can you do when you’re branded, without a …” she trolled, collapsing in hysterical laughter at the glare he sent her way.
“Oh Mulder, come on, even you have to admit it’s funny.”
“Pardon me if I’m not amused,” he growled, as he wrapped the courtesy robe around his frame. “You read the bottle. Two weeks.
Two fucking weeks. We finally get a chance to go somewhere other than the arctic circle on a case and I’m going to be stuck in turtlenecks.” Grabbing the remote off the nightstand, he gingerly stretched back out on the bed, carefully positioning the icepack where it would do the most good. “Forget swimsuits, forget the beach, may as well be in Alaska.”
The thought of missing an opportunity to enjoy Mulder in his Speedos was enough to wipe the smile off Dana’s face. Cripes, if Skinner hadn’t been standing right next to her the only time she’d gotten a glimpse of him in that red scrap of cloth he called a swimsuit, she would have jumped him then and there.
“BRRRRRRRRRIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGG!” Mulder snatched the phone from it’s cradle before Scully had a chance to get it. “Mulder … uh huh … uh huh … You did? … What did they say? … Where?
… No, no, that’s great. As soon as possible, believe me … That’s fine by me … Here, why don’t you tell her yourself.
She’ll think I made it all up.” Not quite trusting the smirk on his face, Dana grabbed the proffered receiver.
“Yes?” Dana’s scowl clearly conveyed her unhappiness with the news. “Why not? … But, I thought by breakfast … FINE! … No, I said ‘fine’ didn’t I?… . Well, I don’t really care what it sounded like to you.” The slam of the receiver was followed by a shriek of rage as Dana tore the phone out of the wall and hurled it across the hotel room.
“You have to write the expense report on that one. I’m not touching it,” taunted Mulder, lying back against the pillows with a blissful expression on his face. “See you in the morning.”
Dana yanked the pillow out from under his head, and stuffed it over his smirking face. “Don’t look so happy, Mulder. This is a temporary setback, that’s all.” She pulled the pillow away as he started to struggle in earnest. “You’re mine. You’re carrying my brand now, buddy, and if I have to wait till California, I’ll wait.” Now tapping her finger on his chest she hissed, “But once those beachbums do their mumbo jumbo routine all bets are off. I don’t care if we do it in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard on the evening news. I’m going to get mine.”
Shoveling the assorted cleaning products into a towel, Dana clasped the awkward bundle to her chest as she headed for the door. “And I’m not going to California with orange hands either.” Mulder was up off the bed and engaging the security lock almost before the door slammed behind her.
Peace at last. Thank god, or the easter bunny, or whoever for Father Skeeter. Whatever he’d told her had finally gotten through.
And who knows? Maybe the Beach Brothers would be able to lift the curse. He hadn’t really appreciated the wonders of Scully in a wet t-shirt until she’d been standing there at the last, bosom heaving as she shouted at him. God, maybe he could get her to wet the shirt again in California. Yes indeed, life would be good again.
The remote slipped from his hand, as he dropped into sleep, a satisfied smile on his lips.
I don’t know who takes this next. Sean, I think it’s your turn.
Have fun. rodent
So, people, have you had enough? The cards and letters have definitely slacked off. Perhaps it’s not romantic enough for you.
We could add more shivery looks, and shy gazes, and tender feelings. That’s the ticket. We’ll get right to work on that.
Where did that Thesaurus go? We need another word for ‘quivering’
… Guys? Someone? Is he shuttering or shuddering? It’s so confusing, this world of romance, and we haven’t even gotten to the secret baby part.
by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright July 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: Soooooo, you were probably wondering what happened to us. We were all busy doing research, some of us at the library, others using a more, how shall we say, ‘hands on’ approach. Yes indeed, now that’s primary research. However, we musn’t let the lure of our studies distract us from our obligations to our readers, so here we are, back again. Now, where were our stalwart heroes when we last saw them? … Right! Dana was off to clean the orange stain off of her hands while Fox slipped into dreamland, head awash with visions of Scully in her wet t-shirt. Maybe things are finally going to go right in this budding romance. Then again … read on and find out:
WARNING – WARNING – WARNING: If you’re easily offended, you’re in the wrong story.
RATING: At least NC-17, probably closer to X. Quick copy to disc before the net-police make it go away.
All comments to: , , ,
Mustn’t forget. This story is based on the characters created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement is intended. Don’t distribute it without our names or attempt to profit from it in any way or we’ll sic our lawyer, the Gooster, on you and you’ll be in deep doodoo.
Subj: Chaos Black
From: Monkey Boy
Scully had long since dropped the two carry on bags by her feet.
Now she stood next to the low, torn bench Mulder perched fragilely on and stared at the slowly spinning baggage wheel. This section of John Wayne Airport was emptying out into the gathering light, and Scully scanned the crowds as she gnawed at the meat of her thumb.
The plane ride had been uneventful, despite the torturous day she’d spent not touching her tantalizingly firm partner. And the long flight westward had insured that the two arrived in the dead of night, when Fox’s hazel eyes turned that wonderful smoky color.
But even the thought of having this string of bad luck lifted by a bunch of Mulder’s howling lunatic friends didn’t raise her spirits.
The rotating baggage wheel locked with a deep metallic noise, as no new luggage had appeared in some time. Hidden away somewhere in Luggage Limbo were two suit carriers, a makeup case, two suitcases, and a computer. Dana had already filled out the necessary forms, but it was very little comfort to her as she stood there in the middle of Orange County and chewed her hand.
“Scully, you want to stop doing that?” Mulder waved a tired hand at her biting efforts. “You’re making me hungry. I think”
Would that he were hungrier, she thought. “Sorry, but they itch.”
“You did get that stuff off your hands, along with your fingernail polish.” Mulder shifted slightly, glad he no longer needed the ice pack.
“And my skin. I can’t tell you how badly they itch.” She returned to chewing momentarily before she spoke again. “And I thought that those Agents were supposed to meet us here.”
“They were. But I’m getting no answer at the local office, and we’ve been waiting for two hours. And the rental booths have no listing for either of us.”
“Fine, we get our own rooms, and call in to the AIC tomorrow.”
Scully dropped onto the seat next to Fox and tried to ignore the fact that he scooted away from her an inch. Waiting patiently all this time had been an absolute torture.
“Problem. All the cars are gone.” Fox managed a sardonic grin at the pained expression on Scully’s exquisite features.
“Taxies?” Scully thought she saw a pattern here.
“They leave around midnight. There aren’t twenty people in the airport. That’s the bad news.” He watched Dana scan his face.
Unbeknownst to him, she loved to watch the rough planes of his face below the expressive eyes that haunted her dreams.
“I take it then that there is good news.” She managed a hand on his arm, and he didn’t pull away. She felt the hard muscles of his lean forearm shift beneath the rough fabric of his rumpled suit.
“Umm, I managed to rent us a limo. It’s the only thing I could find.” He licked his lips as he watched Dana’s liquid blue eyes dilate wider. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that he felt the heat radiating from her in waves he was beginning to have misgivings.
“Good.” The soft purr in her voice startled Mulder, who had to wonder just how much he didn’t know about his oh-so-prim partner.
He felt himself respond to her velvet touch, and the sudden rush of fear only heightened the euphoria of drowning in Dana’s molten gaze. “Fox. When. Is. The. Car. Coming?” She punctuated each of her words with a single touch from a solitary finger.
“That should be it pulling up right now.” Mulder waved toward the glass wall that let in the bright lights of the city. “Dana, we can’t. Not…not now.” He caught her wrist in a strong hand, and she thrilled at the touch.
“We can’t have sex Mulder. There are lots of…other…things we can do. Right?” She traced a hand along his leg, and figured she’d enjoy it better if her fingers weren’t itching wildly. “Even you can’t have done much in the middle of a downtown airport. And there’s no one here. It’s perfect.”
Mulder winced. “Ah. No, I’m not…up to that. Ow!” he pulled her away from him, and her arousal quickly shifted to worry in her eyes.
“Still hurting?” When he nodded quickly, she bit her lip. As bad as this felt for her, he seemed to be coming out much the worse for wear.
“Okay, hands off for now. Mostly.” Her wicked grin coerced a slow smile from Mulder. As much as he wanted to again see the delicious crest of her heaving bosom, he also knew that LA itself was poised on an active fault line. Heaven knew, something could happen…
But Agent Scully was good, and confined herself to squeezing his mostly undamaged bottom as she helped him toward the door. And they had almost made it out when a rough voice whispered from behind them.
“Don’t move or I blow you away, man. Just drop the wallets and keep moving.”
“Yeah,” the second voice was higher pitched and nasal. “And don’t turn around or nothing.”
Mulder and Scully both looked up at the glass doors in front of them. In the crystal clear reflection, they saw two men whose hands were buried in their pockets. Neither wore a mask, and the shorter of the two had ‘Al’ emblazoned on the breast of his jacket.
Dana sighed tiredly.
“Do it.” Mulder whispered to Dana. “The way our luck is running, they’re both Bolivian terrorists.”
“I doubt it.” But even as she spoke, her wallet joined Mulder’s on the floor. There was the sound of scuffing, and then running feet.
Scully let her shoulders sag from the rigid posture she’d been startled into. Mulder looked about ready to fall over. “Thank god they didn’t know we had guns, Mulder.”
“Yeah, if they had known that, they wouldn’t have taken our ID.”
Despite the pains, he reached for the bag. Then he stopped, and swore fluently.
Dana grabbed his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“No. Those two rat bastards took our luggage! He straightened quickly, nearly smacking Scully in the chin with the back of his head. “Everything we had left was in there!”
“Mulder, we have a problem.” Dana tugged on his sleeve as she bit into the palm of her hand.
“Which problem is that, exactly? The curse, the luggage, the injuries, the Federal Bureau, or our wallets?” He dropped his head into his hand, and muttered momentarily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. What’s wrong?”
“The limo’s here. Now how do we pay for a ride and a room?”
Hasta lumbago, Via con dildo, ladies.
Subj: Limo Beige
“Shit.” Their luggage was gone. Their MONEY was gone. The limo driver was watching them. “I can go after… ” The automatic door in front of them kept opening and closing, letting blasts of California air prickle the sweat out of them, in alternation with the refrigerated air of the airport.
Scully grabbed him by the lapels and hauled him out to the limo.
“Fox Mulder, you are not running around John Wayne airport playing cowboy. You try, and I’ll have to practice calf roping on you.”
She pulled him around and the back seat caught him behind the knees, tumbling him into the car. He scooted back fast as she ducked and climbed in after him, glaring at the driver who leered at them in the rearview mirror.
“This is an emergency. We are federal agents.” The Red Sea would have parted for a voice like that. Mulder gulped and slid halfway down the seat, feeling the way the velvety fabric caught at his suit. “We’re officially commandeering this limo, you will be reimbursed.” Where had she learned that voice? Was that something they taught in medical school? Doctor as divinity?
Unfortunately, limo drivers were probably all damned to hell to start with. What else could you say about a man doomed to drive and listen while the passengers played in the back. “What? Lady you are out of your mind! You wanna play kinky games in my limo tha’s fine but you pay cash or in kind… ” Only years of listening to DC cabbies let Mulder decipher the thick, Indian accent. Scully must have had an Indian professor once, because she got the words just a hair faster. Mulder practically had to tackle her to keep the gun in its holster as the driver leered at her.
Oh lord. “Drive, drive!” He pointed out the front window at a glossy Lincoln. “We’re FBI, follow that car!” There, if the television was right, no professional driver could resist that and following the big land whale would give him time to come up with plan B. Scully was looking at his hand, wrapped around her wrists.
She raised a suggestive eyebrow at him. He let go fast and retreated to his corner of the backseat, trying to ignore the sigh she heaved and the tight feeling in his own groin. She wriggled a little and he had to resist the urge to squirm a bit himself. The velvet was soft under his hands, warm under his ass. It took a moment to remember what he meant to do next.
Oh yes, call home. Oh the phone. Thank god he’d kept his phone in his jacket pocket. He dialed the FBI offices, savoring the knowledge that the FBI was better than American Express when you lost your cash.
“Welcome to the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s automated menu service. If you are a member of the public, dial 1 for tour and crime reporting options. If you are an employee dial two for further options.”
Scully was watching him as he pulled the phone away and dialed two.
“If you are staff dial 1. If you are an agent dial two, then your badge number.”
Thank god for an eidetic memory. In went two, and the sixteen letters and digits of his badge number. Phone back to the ear.
The sun was lighting a concrete tangle outside, and traffic was starting to collect in knots of road phlegm, thick tangles with no apparent reason to exist.
The computer-voice recording clicked to a recording in a much more human, and slightly irritated, voice. “Agent Mulder. Your calls are being forwarded to the case manager’s number. If there is no answer, remain on the line for voice mail.” He almost missed the neutral tones of the computer voice. Case manager? Since when had they needed a case manager? And if they were forwarding at… 3:45AM Washington time? The phone was ringing. Mulder sighed.
“Zissis Skinner.” Mulder felt his eyes go round and all the color drain from his face. “Whoizzis?”
“Sir?” His voice squeaked up a full octave.
“Agent Mulder?” Skinner suddenly sounded a lot more alert. And he groaned. “Are you two back in another hospital?”
“No sir.” Oh lord. Skinner in person he could cope with. Skinner on the phone at almost four in the morning … Scully was watching him with that look on her face, blue eyes simmering with quizzical curiosity.. That look said he’d better be able to tell her every single word of what happened when he got off the phone.
“Um. We’re in California, we’re not in the hospital, there’s been no earthquake yet but we got robbed and we were trying to get the office to send us some cash.”
Skinner groaned again. He’d thought he’d have a vacation when he shipped those two to the West Coast. “Agent Mulder, where will you be staying?” Not even worth asking if they had a credit card left between them. He already knew the answer. There was a pause, faint sounds of conversation. He wondered, vaguely, if Scully had managed to get any closer to achieving her objective, and if Mulder was still on painkillers. He’d have to warn the LA AIC. Lord help him, the X-Files was worse than having children. At least his kids he could spank or withdraw their allowance. He winced at an errant notion of doing either to Agents Scully and Mulder. He’d need therapy if this kept up.
“We’ll be at the Sheraton in… ” More conversation. A giggle and a squeak. “Glendale.” Skinner grinned. He’d never heard Agent Mulder’s voice waver up the scale like that before.
“Put Agent Scully on for a moment, would you?” Again, muffled voices. Then Scully was on the line. “Agent Scully, I want one, single piece of information. Were you in any form of physical contact with Agent Mulder when you were divested of your resources?”
“Um.” Could she get away with saying no, given the insulation factor of her partner’s suit pants? Did the wallet he always insisted on carrying in his back pocket count as sufficient space between them? “There was no direct contact, sir.” She’d just go to confession if she found out she was wrong.
Dead silence. One*two*three*four. Unh hunh. Sounded like Hail Marys to her. “Agent Scully, I’d like to survive to retirement age without seeing my face on the front page of the Washington Post.
Or your face, for that matter. Please keep your hands off your partner.”
“Yessir.” Mulder stared at Scully and wondered what Skinner could have said to put that blush in her cheeks. Come to think of it, now that he was staring at his partner, he could feel a flush in his own cheeks. She really did look good with that color in her face.
The limo went over a pot hole and Fox found himself tracing the rather amazing trajectory that her nipples traced as the suspension bobbled them up and down. He swallowed and wondered how they’d taste. Then he shoved both hands into his pockets, balled into fists, and hoped it would be enough to disguise the flag pole he was currently hoisting. Eyes straight ahead and think about anything but his partner’s nipples and the side-effects of poor road maintenance. He swallowed and wondered if, for once, maybe extreme possibilities were wrong. It was Melissa Scully’s friends after all. How could anyone Melissa knew possibly succeed in throwing a curse? That was like thinking Jonathan Livingston Seagull was a deep, life-affirming text.
He let his eyes slide sideways, to find Scully watching him. More specifically, Scully was licking her lips and watching the zipper of his pants. That did it. The Big One was bound to happen sooner or later, he might as well feel the earth move now. He leaned over and let the tip of his tongue trace the outline of her ripe, pink lips, slipping between them to find the smooth hardness of her teeth.
Then Scully’s hands were scooped under his ass, pulling him over on top of her, thighs wrapped around his hips. He heard the limo driver chortle as they dropped out of sight, but he didn’t much care anymore. He could feel the blood pounding in his groin and his head, and Scully’s hands were under his shirt and twisting his nipples and he pulled her blouse loose from the waist of her suit and…
Scully moaned and pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, savoring the feel of that full lower lip of his against her mouth. This was too much. This whole trip Fox Mulder had been avoiding her wincing at her, telling her ridiculous X-Files stories about curses and her sister’s friends. And now he was lying on top of her? And women were supposed to be the ones who changed their minds all the time.
Scully let go of one nipple, wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down, luxuriating in the soft, warm feel of the dark locks that ran between her fingers, the sight of the bangs that fell over his forehead.
Mhm. That lower lip was definitely good for more than pouting. It was soft and smooth against hers, and tasted good when she flicked her tongue over it. His mouth was warm and wet and his hands were hot where they ran down her sides. She moaned and arched, pushing the swell of her breasts, the hard tips of her nipples, against his chest, and hoping the man could take a hint. She pressed her thigh up against his groin, savoring the warm, hard length she felt there, thinking of how he tasted back at DIA and wondering if 69 would get them…
A loud BLAM and a veering, slithering skid sent the limo fishtailing off across the road as a front tire blew. “Owtch!”
Mulder went tumbling off of Scully and into the well in front of the seats. Scully landed on top of him and curled up like a little pill bug, upside down, head first into his ribs, and the air whuffed out of him. There was a huge crash and a boom and the crack of small arms fire.
“Fuck!” The limo driver’s thick voice cursed above them and they heard return fire. Scully, curled over half-upside-down, met Mulder’s wide, hazel eyes.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” His voice was thin and out of breath, and he looked flushed. She tried to swallow, and straightened out enough to get a good breath, feeling his knees behind her back. He was rubbing his chest where he thought she might have pulled one of his nipples off.
“Call me a dog again, Mulder, and you and Father Skeeter both get to learn about what I can do with my gun.”
“Oooh, you promise?” God, her breasts were bobbing around over his head. His balls ached, his mouth was watering and he really wanted to help her catch her balance in the most supportive way. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, held his breath, prayed that the freeway wouldn’t collapse under them, and reached. Her breasts were soft and full in his hands… and the car slewed again, and the driver was whooping, and she went tumbling back across the seat to lie on her back and stare at the roof of the limo.
The phone was buzzing at them. Scully sighed and fished it out of Mulder’s suit jacket. He was sprawled down there, hands raised to the ceiling, silently asking what he’d ever done to deserve this.
The plastic felt warm from his body when she put the phone against her ear.
“Scully here.” She sighed. The limo had a beige liner on the ceiling, with little lights over each door. One smoked glass window now had a shatter-star from a small caliber bullet.
“Agent Scully, this is Brother Canoe.”
“Canoe?” Crack! The limo driver cheered and she heard a windshield shatter somewhere.
“Keanu. You know, like Keanu Reeves?”
“So, why are you on my phone, Brother Keanu?” Scully let a leg trail over the side of the seat to run a toe up and down Mulder’s leg.”
“Cause you got to stop what you’re doing, like, right now! Father Skeeter called us, and we’ve been watching and whatever you’re doing, the planets are coming into a very unkewl alignment.”
“And you think we have something to do with this?” Scully pulled up onto her elbows, porcelain forehead furrowed with disbelief beneath the locks of her light auburn hair. Fox watched her with mournful, hazel eyes that made her want to cuddle him close and… “Uh oh, you just did it again, whatever you’re doing, ‘cause, like, this big hunk of space junk just kind of twitched. I think you two are tapping a major line that runs from like, San Francisco to L.A.
and is focused by the San Andreas Fault line. Whatever you’re doing is bringing about an uncool planetary alignment and could lead to earthquakes, soured milk in cows, and to Jesse Helms winning the presidential election in ninety-six. Agent Scully, I’m begging you, whatever you’re doing, stop!” The crack of continued small arms fire, and the pleading whine in that falsetto voice together convinced her. Scully pulled back her leg and flopped back on the seat.
“Whew! Thank the Karmic Forces of Good. Agent Scully, whatever you were just doing, don’t do it again! Look, we’ll be in touch as soon as you guys get settled. You’re staying at the Sheraton.
They’ll have rooms for you on the sixth floor.” She didn’t bother to ask how he knew. Sometimes, with the X-Files, you just had to go with the flow. “Ciao, Bella.” And Brother Keanu was gone.
Scully folded up the phone and dropped it on Mulder.
Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck! So near and yet so far. She rolled her head to look at him, double-you’d down there on the floor. And heaved a sigh. He groaned and flopped back on the floor and she rolled over on her belly to look down at him and the bulge in his pants, and reached down to trace the zipper in his suit pants as she quashed a giggle.
“Mulder, these Beach Brothers of yours better be able to lift this curse or I’m going to just take the consequences and take you.” He groaned again.
“Just tell me first. I’ll invest in beachfront property in Nevada.” His voice was still hoarse.
Another crack of small arms fire, but the limo was on the shoulder now and things seemed to be calming down. He wondered briefly what would happen if he tried to go down on his partner, but decided they didn’t need to have a satellite drop out of orbit and just happen to land on the limo. This trip was going to cost enough as it was. “Oooh.”
“Don’t whimper, Mulder. You sound like that scene in Catch 22.
The one where they take that lieutenant out and shoot him.”
“Please don’t talk about guns, Scully. I’ve already got a round chambered.” She grinned.
“You may need your ice pack again.”
“Al’s got it. Along with my pain pills, my ID, and my other suit.”
“That’s okay. Al’s got my diaphragm. I’m going to love doing the paperwork to get reimbursed for that.”
“Oooh.” Mulder pulled his knees up and thought evil thoughts about Melissa Scully and her friends.
That’s it for me. Your turn, Amp. Goo.
So, gentle readers, will the cosmic forces of the Beach Brothers be enough to fix this unkewl alignment currently plaquing Mulder and Scully? Tune in next week to find out. Oh, and keep those cards and letters coming. We would respond to all of them but we’ve been distracted by the threats of lawsuits from corporate America.
Something about our story disrupting the workplace. Goo? Goo?
Help! Can they really sue us for that?????? Deny everything!!!!
by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright August 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: Oh foolish children. We have recently learned that a significant number of you are reading this story on the job. Be forewarned. Reading this segment at work can be hazardous to your future financial welfare. Now, now, you’re probably telling yourself that you have self control. You won’t laugh too loudly, gasp inappropriately, snort coffee all over the keyboard, burst into hysterical giggles in the middle of a conference call. It’s so sad to see fools rush recklessly into danger. We can’t answer for the consequences if you choose to disregard this warning and we don’t pay unemployment.
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This story is based on the characters created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used without permission and no infringement is intended.
I now understand why Amp was willing to pass on this one. Here’s the closest I could come to a ritual, guys. What can I say? They didn’t teach this stuff at Catholic school. Someone else will have to finish it. I’m merely setting the scene. Rodent
Subj: Raspberry Red
Cognac voice with just a hint of laughter. “Should I go away for awhile? Wouldn’t want to interrupt anything, after all.”
Dana’s eyes gleamed ferally in the limo’s high beams. “Don’t even think it, Mulder.” With one last squeeze of her silken thighs, and a pelvic thrust that drew a deep moan from the man underneath her, Dana rose slowly to her full 5′2″ height, and planted one dainty white heel in the small of her prey’s back. “Did you get the cash?”
“Money is no longer necessary.” Amazing how the man’s accent all but disappeared when he whined. “Please, Mistress, just let me keep the cuffs as a memento.” The voice was muffled, the cuffed hands forcing all of his weight on to his diaphram, seriously constricting his air flow.
“In your dreams, buster. I’ve got plans for these cuffs.” With one last jab of her delicate pointed shoe, Dana reholstered her gun, and released the cuffs, freeing the limo driver to struggle to his feet. “Did you get the room?” Focused on Mulder, Dana still managed to bat the driver’s hand away before he could reach the cuffs now secured at her waist.
“Rooms. Two rooms,” stressed Mulder, still watching the driver, who had fallen to his knees and was now licking his partner’s shoes. He’d only been gone for ten minutes, but trust Scully to have made the most of it.
Taking full advantage of his distraction, Scully yanked the keys out of his hand. “Pay the man, Mulder,” she hissed, snatching her foot free from the driver’s grasp. “I’ll meet you inside.” Her look clearly conveyed that paying the driver was the easy part. He briefly wondered if Scully took American Express. Something told him he wasn’t going to be able to buy himself out of this one.
She was waiting for him by the elevator, one toe tapping, no doubt in some ancient tribal rhythm passed down from those legendary Amazon woman warriors. He could almost hear the drums beating now, as the preparations for the sacrifice began, the beat growing louder and louder as the door to room 666 approached.
“I don’t suppose I could interest you in the room next door.” Not even dignifying that with a response, she thrust him into the room, neatly ducking in behind him before he could lock her out. “Guess I shouldn’t have made that crack about how he could take it out in trade if I didn’t show with the cash.” Yup, definitely should have kept his mouth shut. Why didn’t she say anything? That foot tap was going to drive him nuts. Fumbling in his pocket, “here … ” He handed her a card. “He left his number. Said he’s available as your ‘love slave’ any time you want.”
“Your Fantasy Limos? You hired, ‘Your Fantasy Limos’? Geez Mulder, wait till you try to send that one through accounting.” At least the foot tap had stopped. A slow grin spread across her face at the thought of Skinner’s reaction. That was a meeting she definitely did not want to miss.
“Yeah well, like I told you at the time. It was all that was available. Just be glad the Glendale office got the cash here so soon. It looked to me like you were turning into his dream date between the gun and the handcuffs.”
Staccato rapping on the hotel room door pulled his thoughts away from his own particular fantasy … Scully, in crotchless panties, no wait, that black lace thing from page 44 of last week’s Victoria’s Secret catalogue, wet crotch pressed tightly to his rump, clicking the cuffs shut. The gun part he could do without but the cuffs had definite appeal. Down, boy, down, he thought, as his cock sprang to attention. He could almost see the San Andreas shifting in anticipation. Quickly he turned to answer the door, suit jacket strategically placed over his straining erection.
Three guys. No wait, make that four. Almost missed the one cutting intricate turns down the hotel corridor, skateboard flying through his own personal slalom course. His wet suit was pure black, no purple highlights like the other three, but it had the same collar and matching overcoat. It didn’t take the best analyst the Violent Crimes group had ever had to figure out their identities. On the other hand, even geniuses can make mistakes, prayed Mulder. It’s all an error, he silently chanted, reiterating the mantra of one of his old Scientology buddies. All an error.
A huge cosmic error.
“Yoah, dude! You must be the Mulder man. I’m Father Keanu. Me and the bros got here as quick as we could.” Sun bronzed and lean, with a huge mop of unruly hair, Keanu looked past the dazed Mulder to Dana, who was still sitting on the bed, mouth agape. “Whoa, and you must be the dominatrix screwing up the matrix. Kewl. Well, nothing to fear, the Calusari are here.” Throwing his board down on the floor he cruised past Mulder, negotiating a neat 360, followed by a perfectly executed flip into the armchair next to the window.
“Ah, excuse me, but I think maybe there’s been some …” Dana started, eyes bulging as she watched Keanu’s sidekicks follow him in, neatly slaloming around the stunned Mulder.
“Mistake?” Keanu finished for her. “Nah, no mistake. We’re the Beach Brothers. Didn’t Brother Skeeter tell you about us?”
The two FBI agents just stared. Father Skeeter had been a little vague on the details. Since when did Body Glove offer suits with clerical collars? And despite the salt stains, the material in the overcoats and hats had a suspicious sheen to it, like rubber or lycra, or some combination of the two. The garb may have borne some vague similarity to that worn by the old men in Washington, but the only wrinkles on these guys’ faces were deep tan lines.
Still one of them did have a beard, and the mangy dreds that bushed out wildly from under his hat were every bit as impressive as the hairdos of the Washington Calusari. As to the baggy, saggy eye pouches that Dana had considered essential to the total Calusari look, prior to her meeting with Father Skeeter, it was impossible to tell whether the bearded guy had those. He’d yet to remove the Vuarnets, which effectively masked his eyes.
The one who had introduced himself as Father Keanu snapped his fingers at the Fabio lookalike, now sprawled on the bed next to Dana. “Hey, Fabio, ya’ got the stuff?” A ziplock bag sailed across the room in response.
“Fabio?” Dana finally managed to squeak. “Your name is Fabio?”
Mulder was still rooted at the open door, watching in awe as Father Keanu pulled out cigarette papers and expertly rolled a joint.
Keanu flipped his mop of sun bleached hair out of his eyes, leaned back and stuck the joint in his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered, most of his energy concentrated on lighting the joint, “it’s actually sort of his ‘spiritual name,’ isn’t that right, Fab?”
“Absolutely, or at least that’s what the lady said.” He grinned at Dana, flashing a perfect set of teeth. “She said my spirit moved her but personally I think it wasn’t my spirit she was responding to.” Distracted by his own reflection in the mirror across the room, he totally missed Dana’s quick glance at his crotch, as he fluffed his blond mane.
Mulder, however, saw the look and could see where his partner’s thoughts were heading. Either Fabio wore some sort of Miracle Jock or his forearms weren’t the only muscles he was flexing. Time to take control of this situation before things got completely out of hand. The door slammed behind him, as he hurried across the room to snatch the joint out of Keanu’s mouth. “Don’t you people know that we’re federal agents? What are you doing smoking a joint in front of us? Are you nuts?”
Keanu shrugged, rolled his eyes at the guy in the chair next to him, who had yet to utter a word. Copper colored eyes flashed as the black clad surfer smiled up at Mulder. No comment, just that predatory smile that looked suspiciously like the one Scully had been giving him lately. Discomfited, Mulder pulled his attention back to Keanu, who was already busy rolling a new joint, ignoring the one Mulder was holding.
“No skin off my nose, man. You want to, like, arrest us, arrest us, but you’re gonna be stuck with that curse big time. We’re your only hope. So, if you don’t want a toke, pass that thing along to DJ over there,” he pointed to the bearded man sitting propped on a skateboard in the corner, “before it goes out.” Defeated, Mulder handed the joint over.
“Kewl, man. Sure you don’t want some? Might mellow you out a little. You look like you need it.” Playing with the rubber band that held his beard in place DJ studied Mulder’s splinted fingers and generally rumpled attire. “I find it, like, helps me concentrate, ya know?”
Right, thought Mulder, watching the glaze settle over DJ’s eyes as he inhaled deeply, demonstrating a lung capacity that would have made Japanese pearl divers jealous. On the other hand, this situation couldn’t possibly look any worse stoned. His ass was grass anyhow if word of this ever got out. The Scully look decided it. She might be busy tracing her fingers up and down Fabio’s muscular forearm but she still managed to send him the hands out of the cookie jar message, loud and clear. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass,” he murmured, sneaking a lung full of second hand smoke.
“Soooo,” drawled Keanu, pausing to take a long drag on the new joint, “are you guys ready to rock and roll?” He passed the joint to his companion. “We’ve got a volleyball tournament tonight in Venice and there’s some primo surf happenin’, so we don’t have a whole lot of time to waste.” He paused as his companion whispered something in his ear, eliciting a grin from Keanu. “Of course, this schedule is open to change if a better opportunity arises,” he amended.
His companion leaned back in the chair with a cheshire cat grin, as Keanu continued, “Skeeter already filled us in on the bad karma and all, so we came prepared.”
For the first time, Dana noticed the large dive sack by the door, ‘Clean Mind, Clean Body, Take Your Pick’ emblazoned on the side.
One of them must have dumped it there when they cruised in. Her head was spinning and not just from the feel of Fabio’s hard muscled thigh, pressed tightly to her own. Removing Fabio’s wandering hand she lurched to her feet and stomped across the room to stare down at the obviously stoned Keanu. “Look bud, other than the collars and the weird hats I have to tell you, you don’t look much like Calusari to me. How do we know you’re not fakes?”
The man in black, as Dana now thought of the silent, lean, black clad priest lounging next to Keanu, finally spoke, his deep bass voice sending shivers up her spine. “Like someone would fake this?” Laughter rippled around the room. “Just what kind of proof are you looking for, Red? Do you have any idea what it costs to get these suits, not to mention the hats?” He pulled his own hat off, elegant fingers tracing the wide brim. “Special mix of rubber and lycra, custom made, so they’ll stay on even through a triple overhead.” With an air of reverence he gently placed the hat back on his head. “But hey, it’s worth it to uphold the tradition.”
Keanu interrupted before she could ask any more questions. “Yo, Mulder, you got a swimsuit?”
Mulder’s jaw dropped. “A swimsuit? What? You guys planning to teach us how to surf?”
Flicking the remaining stub of the joint to Mulder, Keanu moved to unzip the dive bag. “No, man, I meant for the mess.” Mulder just stared. God, maybe he ought to hold his breath or something. Must be the dope fumes. None of this was making any sense. Hardly conscious of his actions, he popped the roach in his mouth and crunched it. It wasn’t a seed, but the closest thing to it right now and he needed something to munch on. All that smoke was making him hungry.
“The mess,” clarified DJ, enunciating each word clearly, as if that would somehow make the message more understandable. Seeing that the fibbies were still mystified, he pointed at the assortment of condiments that Keanu had now pulled from the bag. “Skeeter said you’d taken part in one of these exorcisms before. What’s to understand?”
Comprehension dawned. Prowling, yes it was a definite prowl decided Mulder, over to join Keanu, Dana grinned at Mulder as she surveyed the goodies on the floor. “Yum, I think I’m going to like this.” Mulder backed away as she uncapped the large can of whipped cream and headed in his direction.
The floor swayed abruptly, in sync with a loud crack from the picture window. Keanu snatched the whipped cream out of her hand.
“Whoa babe, don’t even think it until we’re done. We plan to be over on Waikiki when the big one hits. Should generate some awesome waves, totally tubular, and we don’t need you and your hormones screwing up our travel plans.”
“But, I don’t have a …” protested Mulder, as DJ and Fabio herded him into the bathroom. With a wicked smile, Dana extracted the red scrap of lycra from her pocket, thanking the gods that had inspired her to snatch it out of Mulder’s carryall that morning.
It wouldn’t do to let Al spoil all their fun. She snapped the suit in a slingshot manuever to DJ’s waiting hand. Mulder was going to kill her.
“So, tell me,” she purred, “I haven’t actually seen one of these exorcisms.” Revenge is a dish best served with whipped cream, she thought, reflecting that Mulder was going to finally pay for sending her to deal with that demon child on her own. “But, I’m pretty sure Mulder left out the part about the whipped cream and the,” removing the lid from the canning jar, she dipped one delicate finger in and slowly sucked off the sugary substance, “ummmm, raspberry jam. No, he definitely didn’t mention raspberry jam. I’m sure I would have remembered that.”
Keanu, eyes glued to Dana’s delicate pink tongue where it flicked the last of the raspberry jam off her finger, stammered, “Raspberry j-j-j-jam? Uh, right.” Shit, no wonder the Mulderman was such a basket case. “Well, probably the one Mulder saw was done with chicken blood and guts and all that stuff, but we’re all vegan, so we had to adjust the mix slightly.” Extracting a large squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup he zipped the bag shut. “Makes the cleanup more fun, too.” Dana’s eyes positively sparkled.
DJ and Fabio, now joined by the MIB, were literally carrying the protesting Mulder to the bed. “Wait, wait … I’m not possessed. It’s all an error.” Oh god, the Speedos were every bit as scrumptious as she remembered and Mulder’s hip thrusts easily outclassed anything Elvis had ever done. Every long, luscious limb was now covered with a light sheen of sweat, just crying to be sucked slowly, ever so slowly off every square inch of that tantalizing body. Licking her full, pouting lips, she could almost taste the warm salty flavor that she still remembered from their ill-fated foray at DIA.
Mulder’s contortions grew more frenzied as they approached the bed, pelvis thrust forward, the Speedos revealing more than concealing the crown jewels. The deep tones of her soft moan of desire caught her by surprise, until she realized it wasn’t just her moan. The MIB was a virtual tsunami of lust.
Sharing toys had never been high on Dana’s list of learned behaviors and she wasn’t about to start now. “Don’t you guys take vows of celibacy or something,” she hissed, jabbing the priest in the ribs.
Not at all discomfited, he just laughed. “That’s the Catholics, Red. And they wonder why people are leaving the church.” Mulder was starting to thrash in earnest now, nearly breaking free.
“He’s carrying my brand,” Mulder obligingly flipped, providing the warring children with a full view of the best buns in the west and the edges of the orange handprints, “and I don’t take kindly to rustlers,” Dana snarled, flicking aside the suit coat to reveal her gun.
The MIB just grinned, “Take it easy, Red. I just want a taste.
You can still take him home.” Mulder started to really panic as he finally picked up on the fact that the MIB’s interest was less than professional.
“Here, use these. He’ll be easier to control,” Dana offered, tossing hers and Mulder’s cuffs to Keanu.
“Scully, wait, Scully!” Mulder’s voice rose to a shriek as the cuffs snickered shut around one wrist. “This isn’t right. No cuffs. Scully, help!” They all froze as the phone by the bed started to ring.
Okay guys, I think that’s a good place to leave you. Monkey Boy and Amp get to fight over who gets it next. Have fun. Rodent Monkey Boy takes it, not even giving Amp a chance!
Last time we left our heroes, Agent Mulder in a jam, and about to be on some too. Meanwhile, Agent Scully is looking to spread more than the whipped cream, and she’s turned the flames on high.
Speaking of ‘on high,’ the Surfing Calusari are in the building.
But their exorcism exercise has been interrupted by a phone call.
Don’t cha just hate when that happens? Sean
Subj: Hunter Green
From: Monkey Boy
The phone rang a second time in the suddenly quiet room. Mulder looked at Scully. Scully looked at Keanu. Keanu shot a glance at Fabio. Fabio looked at the MIB. The MIB kept pulling rubber toys out of his diving bag.
Dana caught the phone after the third ring. Although the room was hushed, save for the MIB’s humming, she used her free hand to plug her ear as she spoke. It seemed a wise precaution. “Hello?”
Mulder started waving frantically, trying to attract Scully’s attention. Trying to keep silent, the Brothers were having a hard time catching hold of his hands. The one handcuff rattled freely from Fox’s wrist as he slapped away the rubber-encased hands about him.
“Yes,” Scully continued. “Yes I am in Agent Mulder’s room.”
Dana glanced back at her partner as he kicked Fabio across the room. She stepped further from the bed, lifting the phone cord over a Queen Anne chair. “Examining the files, sir.”
Scully closed her eyes when she heard the tinkle of broken glass. “No. I mean, yes…” She massaged her closed eyes, and took a deep breath. “No, we don’t have the file for this case. We were examining the files from a past case. Which one?” Dana watched Mulder go down under a sea of struggling rubber figures.
“Um, a pornography case.”
Mulder’s head shot up from under the sea of bodies. “No! Wrong answer!” He hissed at Scully.
“What was that? No! Of course not! The TV is on. No! I mean no, Agent Mulder is out picking up food, sir. We were. We were talking about pornography before he went for food.” Dana winced. That sounded bad, even to her.
“Jesus, just let-” Mulder’s diatribe was effectively squelched when Fabio shot his load…of whipped cream…into Agent Mulder’s mouth. Keanu slathered Fox’s hair with jam, and tried to intone Latin in a muffled whisper. Fabio just flexed and bulged, letting the MIB pin Mulder by the waist.
Scully stifled a giggle, but let out a squeak. Fabio cocked an eye at her and bulged. The squeak got worse. “Nothing. No! No, I’m sure the AIC can handle things for now.” Dana was turning red, and had to turn away from the wrestling match on the bed. She already was wet and wanted to explode, but she was afraid of blowing more than just their cover. ” No, it’s not that this is a bad time.
It’s just that Agent Mulder and I don’t have any clothes yet.”
Dana’s eyes went wide, then squeezed shut. She held the phone away from her ear, and wondered if Mulder was going to be worth all this.
“Our luggage was stolen, sir. I mean we don’t have any clean clothes. We should be able to meet the AIC later. Tomorrow.”
“Just hang up!” Fabio had to stop bulging, and pin Mulder while the MIB delved into his bag. When he came up with a red rubber ball gag on a black leather strap, Mulder froze. The MIB brought a spatula out next.
That did it for Fox. Well, not really. Mostly, he just wanted to leave a lot more than before. Using the whipped cream, he slid out from beneath Fabio and bolted for the door. The Brothers dropped their toys, and raced into the hallway after him, their rubber coats flying.
Dana’s jaw dropped, and she stared for a moment at the whipped cream trailing away out the door. She heard a scream and a crash from down the hall, and panicked realization dawned upon her. She bit her lip.
“Sir I have to go. I don’t know sir.” She gathered up the room keys, her purse, and Mulder’s handcuffs. “I’ll tell him when I see him.” Dana dropped the phone into the cradle, cutting off an angry diatribe from the other end.
Scully raced out the door, almost forgetting to lock it behind her.
She spun about, and spotted the small puffs of red and white trailing down the hallway. She followed the spoor, loping down the hall as she slung her purse over her shoulder. The trail ended at an elevator. Damn, she thought. Where would Mulder go?
First things first, she’d cut off his escape. Dana bolted through a security door, and raced down the concrete steps for the lobby. Her footsteps rang loudly, advertising her presence to any around.
She burst out into the lobby, and scanned the room. It must be true that Los Angeles never sleeps, because despite the late hour, there were still a number of people clogging the lobby and concierge desk. No sign of Mulder or the Calusari, though. She was just about to head upstairs and search floor by floor when she spotted the baggage rack.
It was loaded with suitcases, carry-ons, and an oddly draped travel bag. More importantly, the rack was slowly inching its way toward the gift shop. Toward clothing.
Scully ran across the lobby, hurdling a small girl and her dog.
There were several near collisions, and a few outraged voices, but Dana managed to catch one of the luggage rack’s brass columns in her hand. She dragged it to a stop, and peered under the travel bag. A pair of scared hazel eyes peered out at her.
“Yes, Mulder.” She started towing the rack toward the nearest elevator. “C’mon. It’ll all be over soon, and we can play.
Doesn’t that sound fun?” Scully did her best to infanticize her lanky, six-foot tall partner as he reached out a jam-smeared hand to clutch at the Hunter Green carpet rolling by beneath him.
“Scully,” Mulder whispered, his fingernails plucking and scraping on carpet weave too tight to provide a finger hold. “He’s got a ball gag.”
“Oh, shut up.” Dana punched the elevator button, and waited for the car to descend. “It’s nothing. Don’t wimp out on me now, Mulder. I’m getting some tonight one way or the other.”
“But it’s a ball gag!” Mulder shook the bag he hid behind.
“So? It doesn’t go on your balls or anything.” Dana stopped, intrigued by the image.
“I’ve seen Pulp Fiction, Scully. I know what those things are for, all right. And Office Discipline aside, I don’t do that!” Mulder sounded hysterical.
This caught Dana’s attention, snapping her out of a bondage fantasy. “Office Discipline?”
Whatever reply Fox would have made was cut off as the elevator chimed, and the chrome doors slid open. All four Calusari Brothers stepped out, their rubber suits fluttering about them. Fox’s raspberry smeared head popped up from the pile of baggage, his breath blowing bits of whipped cream from his mouth.
The MIB stepped forward, out of breath. In one hand, he clutched the dreaded ball gag. In the other, he had a coiled leash and matching spiked dog collar.
Mulder bolted. The baggage cart tipped over, burying Scully under a pile of Sampsonite. The Surfing Calusari roared out of the elevator chanting, waving holy leather over their heads and exchanging high fives.
Ignoring the people watching aghast, Mulder made a beeline for the rotating doors. Breathing hard, flecks of white foam poured out of his mouth. Raspberry slicked him down, and dripped onto his red speedos. He slid to a stop in the doorway, confronted by a bland looking woman.
She was shorter than he, but her glossy brown pumps brought her to eye level. From the tan trenchcoat, grey skirtsuit, and unimaginative haircut, he realized she was FBI.
Mulder fell back to the Hunter Green carpeting, his legs kicking frantically in an attempt to push away from her. He flipped over, and scurried on all fours from the AIC. “Nooo-o!”
That’s when the men in rubber suits jumped him. Grabbing the handcuffs linked about one wrist, Fabio pinned Mulder to the ground and cuffed his hands behind his back. Then he and Keanu lifted Fox off the ground while the MIB secured the leash around his neck. DJ rolled up on his skateboard, and shoved the gag into Fox’s mouth, wrestling with the squirming agent.
Then DJ hopped off the board, and ran around behind Mulder.
Mulder lashed out with his legs, positive that even though the AIC would want him reamed, this wasn’t what she was thinking of seeing.
DJ elbowed the stunned woman aside. “‘Scuse me babe.” Then he looped a rope about Mulder’s leg, and managed to tie him up at the ankles. Fabio and DJ dropped him onto the skateboard, and rolled him off across the lobby.
“Gang way, dudes! The man’s possessed, but just chill.” Brother Keanu straightened his rubber overcoat, and wiped some of the whipped cream from his face. “We’re professionals.”
With that, the four smiling surfers rolled Agent Mulder around the corner and out of sight.
Dana Scully burst around another corner, coming nose to nose with the AIC. Unlike Mulder, she didn’t need to guess at the woman’s job; Dana had met her before. Dana was less than thrilled.
“Agent Watt, have you seen my partner?” Dana blew strands of auburn hair away from her face as she scanned the lobby.
“I …” Watt looked completely flatfooted. Her thin lips moved noiselessly for a moment.
Dana thought fast. “There was a lunatic running around the building, and my partner is pursuing him.”
“Speedos?” It was the best Agent Watt could do at the moment.
Dana quailed. Couldn’t this damn woman have overlooked her partner running naked through the lobby, smeared in raspberry jam and chased by four men in rubber suits? “That’s the person.
Mulder has a few questions for him. Ah… where did he go?”
Watt pointed toward the corridor, still a little shocked. She noticed a bit of raspberry jam on Scully’s finger. “Those men… in rubber suits… tied him up and took him…”
“Good.” Scully caught herself, and looked back to see Watt blanch. Jesus, Dana thought, the woman has to be the world’s one and only uptight bisexual. “I’ll look into it.”
“I think. Ahem. I think this is a matter for local law enforcement.”
“No. No reason for that.” Scully smiled, backing away from the AIC. “I better go find Mulder. Long day tomorrow. Working. Long day working.” Dana shot Watt a thumbs up, and grinned stupidly.
Good job, she thought. Now our boss’ll think we’re both crazy.
Keanu leaned around the corner, and yelled across the lobby.
“Hey, Red! Like, we need your help with Mulder. Bring your handcuffs!” With that charming bit of information, he disappeared.
Dana’s smile never wavered. She just stood there, smiling at Watt. Watt’s look of shock was slowly replaced by a matching smile. They both just stood, and smiled. Watt managed to look far more predatory.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Agent Scully.” Watt snickered as she left the lobby. Dana debated the merits of worrying now. Then she snorted. It didn’t matter now she figured, she was getting a piece of wild Mulderbeast tonight!
Here you go, Amp! I knew you’d want to do the bondage. isn’t that thoughtful of me? Monkey Boy
And so, loyal readers, we leave you here. Hopefully some of you still have jobs. Don’t expect another post right away. It’s going to take us awhile to straighten out this particular mess. As always, keep those cards and letters coming.
by the team of Amperage, Livengoo, MonkeyBoy, and Rodent Copyright July 1995
AUTHORS’ NOTE: Wondering what happens next? So were a lot of other people, for quite a while. So here we go, the unofficial, authorized last chapter of Colors. Unofficial, you may ask? But authorized? Huh? I could spin a long and convoluted story that’s my specialty after all – but the truth is that we wrote this one for the completists out there. That’s right, we really aren’t sadists. Or not as sadistic as we might seem. This isn’t the ending we wanted to write. That’d be the Official, Authorized version. But this is an ending, and it will suffice. For those who just can’t get enough, be assured that some day, some place, maybe even some day soon, Colors will go on! Just like Tinkerbell, clap your hands three times and say “I believe in Goo (and Amp and Rodent and Monkey Boy, too!)” and one day, one day, there’ll be more of it out there gumming up the net and causing massive and catastrophic coffee-spitting accidents at computer terminals. Just not today. For now, this is the end of Colors. But for those of you who want more, who want to believe, keep our email address and write to us in a couple of months and maybe the good Story Fairy will give you a chunk of text for your very own!
We love email anyway, so let us know what you think. This round, Goo’s fielding the comments and brickbats, so come on down, all you wild and assorted Philes. And we hope you have a Colorful life.
WARNING – WARNING – WARNING: It’s offensive if you’re easily offended. NC17 or higher.
All comments to:
The usual blahdiblah here. These characters aren’t ours. We borrowed them without asking. Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, etc. hold all rights. No infringement intended.
Subj: Fool’s Gold
Fox Mulder’s jaw ached from biting at the gag. The raspberry jam felt dis-GUST-ing, and he had whipped cream up his nose, but that wasn’t what really bothered him. He had an itch. Right between the shoulder blades. Just the kind of place you couldn’t possibly reach if you were in handcuffs, even if you weren’t hog-tied and sitting on a jumped up skateboard in an elevator full of religious maniacs. He sincerely hoped those Body Gloves gave them fungal infections.
He couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t. He squirmed, trying to scratch his back against the elevator wall and also trying to ignore the looks Scully and the Man In Black had been giving him..
Sort of like the looks trout gave worms in those shows that tried to teach you how to fish. Mulder had channel surfed past enough of them to know that look. He might be slimy with raspberry jam, but he very much did not want anyone angling for his worm just then.
Oops. Squirming had been a serious tactical error. Scully crouched next to him and he felt the hot tip of her tongue clean marshmallow creme off his earlobe. Usually that would have been way, way up on Mulder’s list of ways to play with food, but right then… It was a toss up whether the lurch of fear or the effect of the elevator promptly dropping half a floor was responsible for the way his stomach felt.
“Whoa! Just for, like now, Red, that sexual tension is gonna have to stay unresolved.” Brother Keanu and Fabio each took an arm and hoisted her to the other side of the elevator. The lights instantly stopped flickering and the car resumed its upward motion.
Scully scowled and Mulder breathed a sigh of relief.
Then a purring bass voice rumbled over his head. “Of course, considering you two oldsters are so out of practice, I could get him warmed up… ” Mulder’s sigh choked off until Scully’s glare told the MIB that that might well be considered coming to the nuisance in any court of law. “Hands off, Judge Dred. I already have enough trouble getting Skinner to load us with enough cases so he won’t have time to go flirt with the lawyers. If I won’t tolerate a girlfriend, you can just imagine what I’ll do to you.”
“Chill, Red!” The elevator doors whooshed open and the Beach Brothers exited, pulling Mulder along on the skateboard with Scully bringing up the rear. The people who had been waiting for the elevator stared after them. Scully indignantly hitched her skirt as the tanned blond man stage whispered to his thin, scruffy friend, “You know, Dean, I never appreciate how normal most of the world is until I come to L.A.”
She might have turned to comment, except the MIB picked then to drag a finger through Mulder’s raspberry-gummed bangs, licking the sweet goo off with great relish.
“Stop that. Between-meals snacks will ruin your figure and that body condom won’t fit any more.” The two of them glared over Mulder’s jam-moussed head until Brother Keanu broke the impasse by tugging the board – and Mulder – after him into their room.
What happened next was quick and dirty and reminded Scully of flea-dipping a mountain lion. The Brothers scooped up a very definitely uncooperative Mulder and plunked him on the bed. Have to leave a BIG tip for those maids, thought Scully. With the federal agent well secured the Brothers got to work. DJ and Fabio gyrated wildly in the background, performing a vital and gutsy rap rendition of “Tutti Frutti” as Keanu and the MIB played a religiously vibrant game of patticake over Mulder. Scully swallowed and shifted foot to foot, mouth watering, among other things. Mulder shut his eyes and waited for the bed to float.
The gentle caress of a spatula full of chocolate cake icing kissed each of his thighs. A pastry bag full of raspberry jam came into play as the surfing priest rendered arcane figures on Mulder’s chest. Fabio and DJ had segued into a moving, luminously rich reggae-tinged performance of “Louie Louie”, cunningly interwoven with resonant passages from “Shimmy-shimmy-koko-bop.” The bed slowly rose with no visible means of support, turning until Mulder’s feet pointed east and his head west. Gradually, Scully became aware of a strange sound from outside, shivering as she understood that she was hearing every guard dog and fashionable rottweiler for miles barking the notes of the Partridge Family theme song. A tremor ran through the room, shaking the glass and flicking the television on and off and then…
Nothing. It was suddenly silent. Everyone stood still except Mulder, who lay still, holding their breaths. On the TV, Fred Flintstone suddenly, joyously, intoned “Yabba-Dabba-DOO!”
“An omen!” cried DJ! “It is a sign to go forth and DO IT! Yeah!”
Scully broke into peals of relieved laughter feeling the sudden resolution of everything except sexual tension. The Beach Brothers had started to chant “Just Do It!” with a cappella doo wop variations as they high fived and Scully couldn’t even bring herself to begrudge the MIB cleaning the chocolate icing off Mulder – with his tongue – though she did playfully slap him when he started to remove the raspberry jam from the red speedos. He moaned and she finally to just tell him to stop. Mulder added to that when Keanu finally got around to removing the gag, threatening the MIB with arrest for everything from littering to violating the Mann Act. Scully wasn’t sure how he’d apply a law against transporting minors and women across state lines for lewd and lascivious purposes in this case, but she trusted Mulder’s imagination to invent a way.
As suddenly as they’d appeared, the Beach Brothers gathered their gear and left. The sudden quiet left Scully and Mulder stunned and staring at each other. She started to giggle, then leaned forward to lick jam off Mulder’s chest, enjoying the tickle of his chest hair on the top of her tongue. In the quiet, the soft strains of romantic music on a K-Tel Great Make Out Hits ad found the partners sinking into each others’ gazes.
“Scully… ” Mulder’s voice was low and raspy with arousal.
“Would you wash my back?”
And she smiled. One of those smiles that lit her whole face, those too rare smiles for which he so longed and which could leave him thrilled for days. Hell, sometimes he let the bad guys beat him senseless just so he could get that smile when he woke up!
“I’d love to… Fox. But only if you let me wash the front, too.”
Could it be? The gentle, loving offer in her eyes swept through him, warming him as he’d thought nothing but a field trip to Area 51 could do, and his manhood stirred with desire. “Only if you let me play ‘This Little Piggy’ with your toes, Dana.”
She savored the sound of her name in his voice. A sound she’d longed for so terribly in the years that she’d come to know and love him since that first, acerbic meeting. A sound she’d dreamt of so many lonely nights, so many lonely days when she hid bodice rippers between the covers of her medical texts, hiding how little medicine could satisfy the deep longing for love that swept her soul and sent warm tingles champagne-bubbling in an effervescence of euphoria. No more nights wearing out the third and fourth tapes she had bought of Sleepless in Seattle and dreaming of Mulder with Tom Hanks’ silly poodle hair, no more lonely coffee cups accumulating, just one at a solitary time, in her sink. The warmth of him thrilled her and she pasted her body to his with the pastiche of jam and fluffernutter that still coated him as they waited for the bathtub to fill.
Mulder lowered himself into the warm water – which instantly turned an odd puce shade – and Scully gently straddled him, settling until his proud warrior of love found acceptance in the embrace of her maidenly petals of wonder. Moaning, she leaned forward to shampoo his hair…
And a tremor slopped the water from the tub. “Scully!” Mulder squeaked. “The earth moved!”
“Oh, Fox… ” she crooned, smothering any more words with the hot pressure of her lips as all through the hotel floors bucked and lunged to their passion and the furniture did the watusi.
Out on the freeway, the Beach Brothers watched in awe as the road buckled and great chasms split the California soil. Far away, water withdrew from the beach, gathering itself offshore. The sides of the San Andreas fault gave up their companionable proximity and a sizable portion of the state of California was calved away from the continental United States.
“Daaaaamn.” Breathed Keanu. “I shoulda known to use raspberry syrup. Jam just bitchin’ shur has got the wrong texture.” Then the Brothers stood, surf boards in hand, patiently waiting to ride that big wave that would land them on the beach somewhere in Nevada.
Back in the hotel, the agents gave themselves up to the throes of the passion so long suppressed, never noticing the sparkling column of light that transported them and their bathwater up, up to where a time-lost Starship Enterprise’s transporter crew got a ringside seat for some really great sex!
Federal Form # C13508.92b(y)
“I am approving expansion of the X-Files department by another five agents. The size of this department, at sixteen agents, is justified by the growing evidence of unforeseen and poorly understood influences at work on the Earth.
Since a substantial portion of the West Coast disappeared, along with Agents Mulder and Scully, there has been an unsettling and undeniable increase in UFO activity, scientists note an average of three new supernovas a day, and the fall television schedule is dominated by Friends clones and romantic dramas in spite of the loss of most television studios and executives. While I am unable to isolate specific evidence to show a causal connection, I am convinced that one exists. Accordingly, this order is my last as Assistant Director of the FBI, after which I shall step down and take over as supervisor of the X-Files.”
Walter Skinner sat back, ran spell check and signed the printed form. His last official act. His last unofficial act had been to ask his successor to direct all cute redheads to his new section.
The hours might be long and the pay might be low, he thought as he ran a hand over his smooth scalp, but the search for Truth had perks! Oh yes! It had perks!
The End…………..specially crafted for a.t.x.c.
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