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Incoming & Outgoing by Jori
From: Jori <>
Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1999 15:58:20 -0400
Title: In Coming
Rating: NC-17 most definitely
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Summary: Scully takes control of Mulder in an new way
Author’s notes: Part I — followed by Out Going
I am so aware of her standing there, next to me. It is driving me crazy.
All I was doing was standing on a chair upgrading my overhead light fixture after the last people who tried to bug my place ruined the old one completely. She didn’t have to stand there so close just to ‘spot’ me.
How was she going to catch me if I fell anyway?
The conversation started out so harmless. After I made a crack about how many FBI agents it takes to change a light bulb, our chatting really did have something to do with the case we were working on. The Peruvian consulate had called us in after some mysterious happenings at the Ancient Art of the Andes exhibit at the National Museum of Art. Then our conversation began to take a turn to ‘Moche’ primitive erotic art and how any examples displaying sex rarely showed the one act that would lead to procreation. It showed everything e lse but that. I don’t even know how we got to this topic except we had seen several samples of it today when we went to visit Dr. Perez at the museum. Then, half a minute ago, Scully said the word ‘fellatio.’ Not blow job or giving head. No, Scully wouldn’t say those, but she used the word fellatio. Ever the proper little doctor.
Doesn’t she know you should never say the word fellatio or playing the skin flute or any other reference to oral sex when your face is exactly six inches away from a guy’s cock?
I’m trying to change the subject right now.
“Well, I believe, um, that those acts are, um, all submissive to the female,” I say, hoping that will lead to other topics, like ancient women’s lib or even modern women’s lib. I don’t care.
“Performing fellatio is not submissive to the female,” she says, looking up at me.
I turn to her, putting my crotch directly in line with her face and look down at her.
“Oh, really? How do you figure that? The man is in charge. He has his sexual organ in a woman’s mouth. How is that not submissive?” I ask her.
“You really think the man is in charge? That is where you are wrong,” she says to me. Scully can even carry on this conversation without cracking a slight grin. Nothing gets to her.
“The art is representative of the submissive nature of females in that society…” I start to say.
“I’m not talking about the art, nor am I talking about some ancient civilization,” she says.
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“While you are suggesting that the woman is the submissive partner in certain sexual acts, especially those that do not result in the perpetuation of the species, I’m saying that, from my perspective, she appears to be quite in control. Complete control.”
“Your perspective?” I ask, knowing full well the proximity of her face to certain parts of my anatomy.
“Yes, my perspective,” she says, her eyes dropping down from mine, to my crotch region.
Damn. If she keeps this up, she’s going to be looking at more than the front of a pair of Gap Khakis. I know I should step down from this chair, but I just can’t break away from this position we have put ourselves into.
“It’s the same the other way around. When a male performs cunnilingus…”
“Do you know how many years I’ve waited to hear you say that word?” I ask her.
She doesn’t miss a beat.
“…it puts the female under his control. To a degree. But not the same degree as a woman performing fellatio.”
“How do you figure that?”
“The woman is always in control,” she says, her eyes meeting mine again.
//Where in the hell is this leading, Scully?// I desperately want to ask her. And why can’t I get off this chair?
I put my hands on my hips and she just looks at me.
“Even with all the male posturing in the world, the woman is still in control.”
My hands drop.
“I didn’t know I was ‘posturing.’ All I was doing was…”
“No point in defending yourself. You know I’m right. When was the last time a woman performed oral sex on you and you were in control?” she asks.
Does she really want me to answer that?
“I don’t remember,” is all I say to her.
She looks at me as if she can’t tell if I’m lying of if I really can’t remember. I’m certainly not going to let her know it is the latter of the two.
“Scully, although I appreciate your opinion on the matter, I still think you are wrong. And until you can prove your supposition with more than ‘the woman is always in control,’ I’m not going to believe…”
I step backwards, forgetting for a second where I am. I nearly fall from the chair.
She reaches out, grabs me by the waistband and pulls me forwards towards her, preventing me from toppling over and falling on my ass.
I know there is absolutely nothing erotic about this. She just saved me from getting some nasty bruises. Yet, there she is, my partner, with her hand still on the front of my pants.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Who’s in control, Mulder?” she asks me, her hand still not moving.
Good God. Surely she must have felt that gentle stirring in my khakis. If she did, she doesn’t pull her hand back in disgust.
Now I really want to know where this is going. My heart is beating a mile a minute as I look down at her looking at me.
Her hand slowly works on the button of my pants.
“Jesus, Scully…you don’t have to prove…”
The button is undone now and her hand slowly tugs my zipper down.
//Oh God. Oh God. This can’t be happening// my mind keeps trying to tell itself as I desperately will my body not to react to her hand so close to my cock.
My mind loses the battle as she tugs my pants and boxers down to my ankles. My only saving grace is the polo shirt I am wearing is long enough to cover me up.
I look down at her and realize how stupid this must look. I’m still standing on the chair, with my pants about my ankles and a hard-on tenting my shirt. I hope no one has video surveillance running in my apartment right now. And if they do, where in the hell can I get a copy of the tape?
Scully tugs on my shirt, hinting for me to pull it off. I yank it over my head by the collar without her having to ask twice. Now I’m standing nearly naked in front of this woman I have known for years. The only body parts still covered are my ankles and feet.
She hasn’t even touched me yet, per se, and still I’m nearly dying here.
Then her hand moves slowly to my erection and she tugs ever so gently at me.
An involuntary moan escapes from me at the sensation of this first contact. Her hand begins to move up and down more firmly now, applying just the right amount of pressure. I think I might actually fall off of this chair and I don’t really care. I just hope she doesn’t try to catch me by what she has her one hand on right now.
Then she does it. Her hand stops moving but holds me firmly as she moves her face closer to me. I shut my eyes. The image of her mouth coming into contact with my cock is almost enough to make me come right there.
Her tongue traces a gentle line up the underside of my shaft to the tip. A million little flashes of light explode in my head instantaneously. Then her tongue swirls around the tip of my penis, softly, gently, and I am sure I must have died.
She pulls her head back from me and grabs my hips, guiding me to step down from my makeshift ladder. This is damn near impossible to do when one’s pants are wrapped around their ankles, so I have to jump down.
Scully then pushes me backwards into the chair and then kneels before me.
She slowly, teasingly moves her head back towards me, and pulls me completely into her mouth.
I don’t want her to think she has to go on with this if she doesn’t want to, although I’m certainly not complaining.
“Scully, um, listen, oh. You don’t have to do this, you know…if you don’t, um, want, oh, to…” I try to say to her in coherent English.
She answers me by gently grazing her teeth along my cock as she moves up and down me.
“Okay,” is all my addled brain can think to say.
I don’t want to get into the millions of cliché things I could think about her lips around me as she slowly, rhythmically fucks me with her mouth.
Her mouth is perfect. That is all I have to say about this.
I sit back in the chair she put me in and try to remember my blow job etiquette. I know I don’t pull her towards me. Women hate that, I recall.
Besides, she couldn’t get me in much deeper. I know I shouldn’t grab her hair or anything, but I can’t help mys elf. I wind my fingers into her soft hair, needing something to hold on to; something to ground me and keep me from floating right off this chair.
I look down upon the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Scully is giving me head. Excuse me. Performing fellatio. And, damn it, she’s in control. How in the hell did she do that?
We have never even kissed, and now she has complete control of my cock.
She has complete control of me, regardless of my cock. I am the submissive one, moaning my ass off here sitting on my own chair in my own apartment.
Her mouth starts to move faster, her tongue never stopping its slight flicking of the head of my shaft when she pulls up.
My brain and body are about to topple over the edge as I slip into more etiquette musings. Do I let her know I’m going to come? Surely she can tell. She’s a doctor for chrissakes. And obviously she’s done this before.
She’ll know when to pull her head away, right?
Or maybe she likes for men to come in her mouth. God, now that’s a topic we never discussed on all those road trips. Scully, do you spit or swallow?
I almost laugh, but her workings in my lap region prevent me from doing anything else but moaning something about God and Jesus and that I can’t believe this is happening.
Then it does happen. My body jerks reflexively and I come in this woman’s mouth. Scully’s mouth. For one much too brief moment, I can see nothing but heaven and hell all wrapped up in one, and then I come back to earth and hope she is not too mad at me. S he had to be able to tell, right?
She slowly rises from between my legs, her nose and mouth gently edging their way up my stomach and chest to my face. We are going to kiss now, after that most intimate act. It seems backwards, but not at all wrong.
She places her mouth over mine. And deposits my seed back into me.
I pull away, almost gagging at the new taste sensation in my mouth.
“Next time, Mulder, don’t you forget who’s in control,” she says to me as she grins an absolutely evil grin.
//Next time?// I think, as I swallow what she left in my mouth. Thank you!
There is going to be a next time.
“Never,” I tell her as I pull her on my lap to really kiss her, “Never will I forget.”
Subject: REP: Outgoing 1/2 NC-17 (pt. 2 of In Coming) Reposted by request.
Title: Outgoing… the second part of In Coming
Rating: NC-17 for sure
Keywords: MSR, MSS (Mulder Scully Smut) and MTS (Mandatory Thanksgiving Smut), slight bit of bondage but nothing too serious. All in good fun, folks.
Summary: Mulder tries to regain control of the situation at hand Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to my. They belong to CC, 1013 and FOX.
Author’s notes: Once again, a special thanks goes out to Rachel G., my editor of all things smutty and not so smutty, and the only person who would try to call 1-900-FOX-MLDR just to see what it might be…
I stand half naked in the hallway watching Scully walk towards the elevator.
My thoughts focus not on the act that just happened here, nor on how beautiful she is as she walks away from me. I don’t even care that at any minute one of my neighbors could come out and see my naked ass hanging out from under my shirt.
There are only two thoughts in my head as I watch the elevator doors slide shut.
The first is that I’m a wrecked man. Finished. Destroyed. Gone. All because no other mouth besides Scully’s will ever be enough for me for the rest of my life.
The second thought is that by the end of this weekend, I want her naked, splayed out in front of me, quivering…no, quaking under my tongue. I want to hear Scully moan. I want to see her washed away like beach sand during an outgoing tide.
I also want Miss Thesaurus to start with the word cunnilingus and end with ‘eat me, Mulder.’
Most of all, I want to be the one who stays fully dressed through the whole act. I want to be in complete control this time.
I sound like an asshole. I would want her to enjoy herself. I most certainly would. I just want her to enjoy herself so much that she’s jerking like an electrocuted frog and screaming out my name when she comes.
I go back into my apartment and sit down on the chair that is now going to be part of every fantasy I ever have. I must admit that woman knocked me on my ass today. Never, in all these years, did I ever think this would happen. Not like this, anyway. Scully, my partner and nothing more Scully, just gave me the best blow job I’ve ever had in my life. I reach down for my pants that I had finally managed to kick off right before she left, and I drape them over my lap.
I shut my eyes and try to relive the whole incident in my head. I still am not sure how the whole thing started. I don’t know what came over the two of us. After more than half a decade, I succumbed to her after simple discussion of old pottery. She had me. Big time. Scully had me naked, crying out for her like an insane man, and she never dropped a stitch of clothing.
She was in control. Just like she said.
By tomorrow night, that will all be changed.
The opening of the Andean art exhibit is filled with people dressed in formal wear, standing around drinking wine and eating cheese and crackers. Supporters of the arts, no doubt, plus several Peruvian dignitaries. Slowly, a few people make their way around from exhibit to exhibit, commenting on the various pieces of sculpture and weavings recently obtained by the museum. Native flute music punctuates the air with a somber sound.
I’m not so nave to believe these events are about the actual art, but are about making money for the museum. Most of the people here never even look at the art, choosing to use this time networking or socializing with their financial peers.
I look around for Mulder, who is customarily late. I’m the only woman here wearing a business suit with a weapon hidden in back, and I would feel better if he were equally attired and standing next to me. Then what we really are would be more obvious.
Dr. Juan Perez asked us to be here tonight. He’s so worried that more items will turn up missing from his exhibit and be found linked to a dead body somewhere in the D.C. area. So far it has happened three times, and no connections to anyone inside the museum can be made.
“Agent Scully!” I hear called from across the room as Dr. Perez approaches me. He may be the expert behind the works in this display, but I can tell he does not have much interest in the gala going on around him. His tuxedo is over ten years out of date, and he doesn’t even have on dress shoes. He looks like he would rather let the glad handing corporate people handle this, and that he would prefer to just study each and every object as an artifact, not necessarily as art.
“Good evening, Dr. Perez. Quite a turnout,” I say, nodding at the crowd.
“I should be proud, but these same people show up for every one of these. I prefer it when students show up, make their sketches of the work, really enjoy it for its true value. There is a piece of sculpture that came in this morning that I wanted to show you. This latest piece is beautiful. Yesterday, I noticed you and your partner seemed particularly interested in the Moche art,” Dr. Perez says, his eyebrows waggling slightly.
He guides me to a large plexiglass cube displaying a sculpture of two people entwined, performing oral sexual favors on each other. I can feel a blush rising to my cheeks, and try to ask a question about date or origin, but I am as tongue-tied as the two figures immortalized in clay.
“Well, Agent Scully, I must get back to the drudgery of hobnobbing.
Please feel free to go into the back rooms if you and Agent Mulder feel it necessary. There is a lot to explore back there. Hopefully, nothing out of the ordinary will happen tonight,” Dr. Perez says to me as he turns to leave me.
“I hope not either,” I say, as I stand staring at the sculpture, “I mean, nothing will happen. Go and enjoy yourself.”
I’m still looking at the piece when I feel a familiar hand on my shoulder.
“Boo,” Mulder says, leaning in close to my ear.
“You’re late,” is all I say back. I’m too scared to turn to him, frightened the blush might still be in my cheeks. Get control of yourself, Dana Scully. You can’t lose control now. Just remember how much control you had yesterday. Right. That was really controlled.
“I’m sorry. I had to get my tuxedo from the cleaners,” he tells me.
Blushing cheeks be damned, I think as I spin around. I will kill him if he really did come dressed in formal wear, leaving me in my everyday wear with a gun bulging slightly on my backside.
Mulder is wearing one of his normal suits with a red silk tie. With the exception of his neckware, his attire screams Fed just as much as mine does. At least we checked our London Fogs at the coat check.
“I had you that time, and I’d like to have you like this next time,” he says with a smile, as he nods his head toward the sculpture I was looking at.
I touch his face and motion for him to come closer.
“You will never have me,” I say, as I take my hand off his face and walk away.
I look at the artwork Scully was studying, wanting to see if this was what brought the slight blush to her cheeks or whether it was coming in contact with me for the first time since our little encounter yesterday.
It is just an earth-colored sculpture of a man and a women in a lovely ‘69’ position. The only thing that makes it odd is she has a handle coming out of her back and he has a spout where his legs should be. Not only erotic, but quite functional to boot.
That made her blush? ‘Women are always in control’ Scully is blushing over two clay figures going down on each other? This might be easier than I thought.
“Scully, wait up,” I call after her, “Did you talk to Dr. Perez yet tonight?”
“Yes. Nothing unusual has happened this evening. I don’t thing anything will, not with all these people around,” Scully says, never looking at me and not slowing her pace down any. Of course, I can keep up.
Regret was the one thing I never considered about this whole thing, but that is what I’m starting to feel coming from her. Damn it. This isn’t how I wanted this to go.
“Scully, about yesterday…”
“Mulder, let’s just forget it,” she says.
I stop following her. She’s knocked me on my ass for the second time in two days.
I know Mulder just won’t forget it. I can’t forget it either, but I don’t think this is the time or place for us to discuss any sexual dalliances that might have gone on yesterday. Might have. I can’t believe that this happened anymore than I can believe in most anything else having to do with Mulder.
I wander around the exhibit avoiding Mulder for half an hour. When I catch him watching me from across the room, my knees nearly buckle out from under me. I don’t know what I want right now, and that frustrates me to no end. I started this ‘oral control’ game and I have no idea how to end it. I don’t know if I even want it to end. At the same time, I’m afraid of where it might lead, how much control both of us might lose.
Mulder finally makes a move and approaches me.
“Scully, should we go check out the back rooms?” he asks me, looking at his watch. This exhibit is supposed to end in another two hours.
I just look down at my feet, not answering him, which is a stupid move on my part.
“Come on, Scully. We are working. It’s not like I’m going to jump you on an Egyptian sarcophagus or anything,” he says, as he moves brusquely by me, forcing me to follow him.
“This is Peruvian…” I start to say, as he opens an ‘employees only’
“I know,” is the last thing I hear him mutter as the door closes, the two of us on opposite sides.
“Damn it,” I say under my breath, before following him back into the storage areas behind the main exhibit.
“Mulder?” I call out after I can’t find him for several minutes.
“I’m right here,” he says from not even two feet behind me.
I turn to him and notice that any of the fire I saw in his eyes when I left him in the hallway yesterday, or even from when he first approached me by the sculpture tonight, has been extinguished in the last half hour.
“Did you find anything?” I ask as businesslike as I possibly can.
“I don’t think we are going to find anything here, Scully. I’m sure it just has to do with unlucky art thieves meeting untimely deaths. We can just go home and let the D.C. Police handle this,” he says as he heads towards the door.
I don’t want to lose him before I get the chance to talk to him.
“Did you drive here?” I ask, wanting to know if he thought this would go any further tonight.
“No,” Mulder answers as he stops moving towards his exit. His head droops down slightly towards his chest, as if he’s guilty of something.
“How do you plan on getting home?” I ask, knowing full well I’m entering dangerous territory with him.
“I’ll take a cab.”
So many things are swimming around in my head right now, knocking me out of focus and off balance. I like things predictable, orderly and controlled. But a demonic little voice inside tells me I don’t have to be in control all the time, that I can just let go. Damn it, this is Mulder. I’m safe with Mulder. I attempt to push these thoughts back, but I end up blurting out, “I’ll drive you home.”
I step by him, trying to make him follow me this time.
He grabs my wrist as I try to make it past him and he pulls me to his chest. I tense up enough for him to feel it.
“What are you afraid of? I just want to show you something before you drive me home,” he says, as he lets me go from his tight hold and tugs on my arm, urging me to follow.
“What are you going to show me?” I ask, while visions of pornographic post-modern art fills my head.
He guides me into an area of the museum used for art restoration and recovery. The flute music doesn’t reach back here and it is silent. The only light comes from a dim, flickering fluorescent tube above us.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he asks me of the statue he led me to. The sculpture is of a man and a woman entwined in each other’s arms, lovers trapped forever in white marble. Although not as suggestive as the Moche art, it if more realistic and more lifelike. The couple’s passion is struggling to be freed from the stone that holds them static. Like another couple I know.
“Yes. It’s very beautiful,” I say, as I walk around the object, always staying on the opposite side of Mulder.
“Look at her. So elegant. So exquisite and refined. Yet…so unafraid.
She knows he would never hurt her. She isn’t afraid of being out of control with him. Actually, she wants it. She wants to be a little reckless,” he says to me softly. His voice is tugging at me in ways it never has before.
“Considering she’s a Greek goddess, she can afford to lose a little control. Tomorrow, she’ll just fling him back to earth until she needs his…services again,” I say, amazed at the nervous cracking in my own voice.
I stop moving and stand directly in front of the sculpture, contemplating their frozen expressions. She looks content and he looks far too pleased with himself. Is that what I’m afraid of? The pleasure or the person wanting to please me? Am I that afraid of letting him ‘have’ me, giving him control over another part of myself?
Mulder moves in behind me and wraps me in his arms.
“He wouldn’t care if he got flung into hell in the morning as long as he got to spend one night making her smile like that,” he whispers into my ear in a voice so rich in resonance and timbre, I could almost lose myself right here and now. He must feel it, because he holds me tighter.
He begins to nuzzle me on my neck, and I can feel my control begin to wane again. I’m losing to him, and he knows it. Maybe in losing, we both win.
“You smell good,” he says, “like vanilla. No wonder I’ve been hungry all night.”
That voice that earlier made me offer him a ride home kicks in to make me say something stupid, and I try to suppress it. Just like I have done for so long with so many feelings.
“Hungry for what?” I ask.
“Guess,” is all he says.
“Mulder, stop,” I say, pushing him away, “There are security cameras everywhere. Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
I just didn’t tell him who’s home I would be driving him to, intentionally misleading him. If we are going to continue playing this game of control, then I’m at least going to be on my own turf.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to scream my name. I want you to moan. I want you to come for me like you have never come before.”
“Where do you want it? Here? The bed? The couch? The kitchen table?”
“Right here…on the wall…is…um…just fine. Or the bed. Oh God, Scully.”
I reach to unbutton her suit jacket, but she intercepts my wandering hand with an iron grip around my wrist. This isn’t working out as I had planned, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to complain now. My jacket quickly lands in a heap on the floor and I have a feeling most of my other clothing are soon going to follow it. So
much for staying fully dressed. I’ve had a hard-on from the moment we parked in front of her apartment, and I’m dying for her hand to grip onto more than just my wrist.
Instead, she just keeps rubbing me through the material, until I can hardly stand it anymore.
“Scully, this is my last somewhat clean pair of pants, and I can’t come, sorry, go to work on Monday with a cum stain on the front,” I tell her.
With a smirk and an arched eyebrow, she removes my holster and sets it aside. Then Scully works at the buckle on my belt until she gets it undone. She studies the strap of leather with a frightening intensity, slowly looping it in her hands, then quickly yanking. My dick jumps at the snap of leather on leather. And here I thought she could only snap latex.
At my pathetic whimper, she takes pity and undoes the fastenings holding up my pants. She tugs them down my hips, and I make sure to actually kick them all the way off this time. My shoes and socks have been long gone, though I don’t remember how exactly.
She looks at the boxers I’m wearing and stops.
“Mulder, that was just a bit presumptuous of you, wasn’t it?” she asks me, her eyebrow going up.
I look down, not sure if her reference is to my one-eyed snake trying to slither his way out of my fly or my black silk boxers. Her hand running a brief course along the curve of my ass saves me from the humiliation of having to ask.
“Come on Scully, these are my usual Saturday undies. If you look on the back, you’ll see ‘Saturday’ embroidered across my ass,” I tell her.
She actually turns me around to check.
“I don’t see anything but this…”
She tugs them down leaving my ass bare except for the back of my dress shirt. She presses me up against the wall as if I’m the next mutant she has captured, and my arms instinctively go up. I can feel her knee my legs apart and her hands travel across my backside.
“Jeesh, Scully. Do you frisk all suspects like this? No wonder all the criminals you’ve ever apprehended look so damn happy when you’re done with them.”
Her hand has snaked in between my legs and she is holding my balls in the palm of her hands. If she doesn’t turn me around and let me do something with this erection of mine, I’m going to be humping her damn living room wall.
“I’m just checking for any concealed contraband,” she says, adding emphasis on concealed with a squeeze of my nuts.
“The only thing I’m carrying is too damned hard to conceal,” I manage to squeak.
She finally turns me around and after a pointed look at my ‘contraband’, her hands go up to my tie.
“This is nice, Mulder. Did you wear it special for tonight, or is it your usual ‘Saturday’ tie? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before.”
“I, um…” don’t know what to say.
Her hand undoes the knot, and she pulls it out of under my collar. She then puts in over her shoulder and goes to work on the buttons of my shirt. At least she’s not one of those women who tries to yank the buttons off a dress shirt. It doesn’t happen that easily and usually causes neck injuries.
She throws my shirt onto the pile with the rest of clothes, and tells me to turn back around.
“Scully, please…” is all I manage to get out, before she turns me around herself.
This time she pulls my hands behind me and I can feel my tie being looped just right and pulled to hold them together. It isn’t tight enough that I couldn’t get out of the soft restraints, but I think it’s the thought that counts.
Damn. I’m really losing this time.
She turns me back around and leads my naked ass to her bedroom, where she pushes me gently backwards so I’m sitting on her bed. Then a still fully clothed Scully kneels in front of me. My erect cock knows what coming, always pointing directly toward her mouth like a needle points north on a compass. She buries her head in my lap and pulls me completely into her mouth.
Everything I said yesterday still holds true. Even if this isn’t how I wanted the night to go, I’m one lucky bastard.
“Oh, Scully…oh, that…is…too…good…” I moan, as she continues to flick her tongue across the head of my cock. I don’t care if we never even have traditional, old fashioned sex, just as long as I can have that mouth on me everyday. If this is how she has to be in control, then she can control me for the rest of my life.
I wish she hadn’t tied my hands together because I want so much to touch her, but I am certainly enjoying this side of Scully I have only known since yesterday. Except this time I’m going to tell her when I’m coming and I won’t leave it up to her ‘expertise’ to guess when.
And it is going to be soon.
“Scully, hey, I can’t hold off much longer… if you don’t want to…”
But she doesn’t move her lips away as my body spasms and I once again come into her mouth. Well, at least I tried to warn her. She must like it. This time when she comes near my mouth to kiss me, I turn my head away.
“Open up,” I tell her, “I want to see what you’ve got in there. No more of that ‘snowballing’ crap.”
Scully opens her mouth. Yes, Scully swallows. After proving herself, she moves in for a kiss. Her lips and tongue tug, pull and suck on mine in the same intensity with which she just sucked my dick.
“Snowballing?” she asks when she pulls away from me, “Where did you learn about that?”
I just look at her and raise my eyebrows.
“Oh, yeah. Mr. Porno King. I suppose you’ve seen everything,” she says, as she undoes the knot holding my hands together.
“Not exactly. I have yet to see you naked in bed with me. I’m beginning to think you are sewn into that clothes in the morning. It’s getting a little unfair. You’ve seen me in all my glory…conscious even this time…twice now,” I say to her.
She moves away from me slightly and says nothing.
“Come on, Scully. Remember that goddess? Remember how happy she looked?
At least let me try. If I can make you that happy, we can settle this ‘who’s in control during oral sex debate’. Then we can return to our old lives first thing Monday morning,” I say, knowing that it’s a lie. I’ll never be able to go back. Every time I see her purse or lick her lips, my cock will twitch in remembrance.
She just looks shyly down at her floor.
“Scully, if you can strip me, pat me down and tie me up in your living room, you have nothing to be afraid of. I keep telling you that,” I say to her.
“It’s not that, Mulder. It is just that I’ve never been one to just let go. The last time I tried, well, you know,” she says to me quietly.
“I’m not some guy you never met before. I know you trust me with your life. Hell, you trusted me to take care of your plants once,” I say to her.
She smirks, shakes her head and says, “That’s not a mistake I’ll make twice.”
After a long pause, and an impromptu stare down, she says, with a voice more like the Scully that had me up against the living room wall, “Just let me do exactly what I want to do, Mulder. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“As long as part of that includes you and me naked, I don’t care,” I say.
She rises off the bed and I follow suit.
“Undress me,” she tells me.
I move to her, and like a virgin with trembling hands, I fumble with the buttons on her suit jacket. I didn’t expect to be nervous at this point, but for some reason I am.
I finally get the buttons undone and she slides it down her shoulders, revealing the white silk shell she was wearing underneath. I turn her around, and I remove her gun and holster and place it on her nightstand.
I let her stand where she is, still facing away from me, and I slowly pull the zipper of her skirt down her hip. It falls off of her easily and she pushes it aside with her foot. I look down to discover she is wearing a black garter belt and hose, plus black panties.
“Scully, that was a bit presumptuous of you, wasn’t it?’ I ask, looking down upon her perfect ass, contemplating getting my hands on it.
“Oh no. These are my usual ‘Saturday’ undergarments,” she says teasingly, as she holds her arms up so I can pull the rest of her outer clothing off. She didn’t have a bra on under there.
Oh, yeah. She’s in control. No doubt about it. She’s leading me exactly where she wants me to take her.
She turns to face me and I can feel myself grow hard. Her eyebrow arches up to match my latest erection.
“Wow, Mulder, that’s quick reloading,” she says with a smirk.
“What can I say Scully, your Saturday usuals are an inspiration,” I say.
I run my index finger lightly under the thin strap of her garter belt, touching her warm flesh. My thoughts flitter to what it would feel like inside of her, but I know that we won’t cross that line. That isn’t what she thinks this particular game is about.
“So, what next, Scully?” I ask as I squirm around a little.
“Well, what do you have in mind? What would Fox Mulder fantasize about when it comes to me and oral sex? Would he like for me to be prim and proper and say ‘cunnilingus’ again, seeing it was such a turn on last time he heard me say it? Or maybe he likes it a little more sordid? I would guess even just downright dirty. What would you rather me say? How would you react if you heard me say ‘eat my pussy, Mulder?’”
Jesus! Can this woman read my mind or something? I wonder if she knows what I’m thinking right now. She could probably make an educated guess, for the ‘salute’ I’m giving her is a really big clue.
“What….whatever you want to call it, Scully,” I finally stammer.
She is an enigma. She keeps changing from delicate little school girl to brazen harlot from one minute to the next. I can hardly keep up.
She puts one foot up on her bed slowly unclips the snap holding up the hose. She repeats the procedure with the other foot. Scully turns her back to me again, and I unclip the piece holding the whole thing up. It falls to her floor, soon followed by her panties. I stare at her tattoo for a brief second, trying to memorize it.
She turns to me and I discover that even in the middle of winter, Dana Scully has her bikini line waxed into a perfect triangular mohawk. I’m all of a sudden jealous of whoever it is who gets to perform this intimate act upon her.
Scully sits on the edge of the bed, and I push her gently backwards. I slowly move in between her thighs, coaxing them apart.
“Wait,” she say, as she moves to turn off the lamp. This is okay with me. I do my best work in the dark.
I know what he wants. Mulder wants me to have an orgasm to rival any ever on heaven and earth. I would love to be able to scream; to be able to thrash about like a fish out of water. That just has never been me.
Even with the man I trust the most in the world, I know it isn’t going to happen.
He is more than welcome to keep trying, though. It does feel wonderful.
No, better than wonderful. After all these years of just my own hands and dreams, I have forgotten how nice it is to have a man down there concentrating on nothing but me. His mouth is moving perfectly, as are his fingers.
I need to concentrate more. It has always been hard for me to allow myself this release under someone else’s hand. Or tongue in this case.
Of course, if he is not convinced I’m happy, this might not have to end.
I would love to feel him inside me just once. Too bad this is not what he thinks this game is about.
“Mulder, honey, come here,” I say to him, gently touching his head.
He looks up at me like a little prairie dog coming out of his burrow. I can’t tell by his expression whether he is more surprised I asked him to stop or that I called him honey.
“What’s the matter, Scully? Am I doing something wrong? Is this not the way you want it to feel?” He asks as he moves closer to me.
He has that lost little boy expression on his face that always tugs at my heartstrings. I trace the curve of his face with my thumb, hoping I didn’t hurt his feelings.
“No, Mulder, you’re not doing anything wrong. You are just fine. Let’s try it like this for awhile,” I say as I maneuver him into a position where we are mutually pleasuring each other.
This way maybe he won’t notice that my orgasms don’t come with thunderclaps and lightening bolts. I pull him into my mouth again and my hand moves around to his backside. I gently probe around until I hear him moan against me in pleasure.
Now I know he won’t notice.
Scully is smiling. I love it when she smiles.
“Are you happy now?” I ask her.
I am propped up on my elbow looking down on her. She is so beautiful.
Her eyes are closed and she looks content.
“Mmm…” is all she says.
“Because if you are not, we can keep trying,” I say.
“I’m fine, Mulder.”
She knows she won the game. She had me under the complete control of that perfect mouth of hers three times. And I only had her once. Well, is only Saturday. Maybe there’s a chance for me yet.
Scully comes quietly. Although it doesn’t match any of my fantasies, it suits her personality. She can be impassioned and reserved at the same time. Just like the rest of her life.
She can push me around as if I was a cheap hooker on a Friday night, yet she comes so softly and gently. Just like that beach sand I imagined, floating out on the tide. The waves were crashing through my body, yet she was only the sand riding them out. The only reason I knew it happened was she started giggling and she pushed my face away.
Even I was quiet this time. What she was doing to me would have normally had me crying out her name, begging for mercy, but I was otherwise occupied.
“Hey, Scully?” I ask her.
She opens her eyes and looks at me.
“Who do you think has control during sexual intercourse? The man or the woman?”
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