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Option Three by Khyber
CLASSIFICATION: S, definitely. R, probably. A, a bit, H, I hope.
RATING: NC17 (barely) for a bit of what you fancy, mature themes and language.
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST, possible MSR, chocolate, Halloween.
SPOILERS: Um, it helps of you know who Phoebe Green, Jack Willis and Diana Fowley are, but that’s about it. I’m setting this in the early third season sometime. It’s definitely not a fifth season Mulder and Scully. It could be earlier, but for a variety of reasons we need Action!Scully’s taut, toned abs from later in the series. Muahahahaha.
SUMMARY: Halloween. A little exposed skin, tentative conversation, a bag of candy and a lesson in sharing. Even though Mulder and Scully DO NOT have sexual intercourse, NoRomos will likely want to run screaming right about now.
ARCHIVING: Halloween specialty archives and Gossamer only; please email for permission otherwise. Available on the web in pretty HTML at http://www.alanna.net/Khyber along with many other things. Do not post to atxc, I’ll do it.
DISCLAIMER: This story is dedicated to Sabine, the inspiration for this story, who has more thunder than little ol’ me could possibly ever steal. Explain that one away, girl <eg> Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are owned by 1013, insert the noise that Charlie Brown’s teacher makes (here). KitKats, Caramilks, Coffee Crisps and Cherry Blossoms are owned by, uh, probably Cadbury’s.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Alanna, for an “it doesn’t suck too bad” reading at a critical moment, and Brianna, Official WiseAss!Scully Consultant.
o p t i o n t h r e e
November 1st, 1995
A real man should have something in his house besides vodka, Fox Mulder thought as he looked in the cupboard over his refrigerator. And he did—Gran Marnier, also a sad indictment of his manhood. The bottle was four years old, and dated to the last time he’d gotten laid in something resembling a normal fashion. The book of matches beside the bottle was from the same night. He took down the vodka, and poured himself a stiff, clear shot in a water glass. It slithered hotly down his throat, inviting another, and then a third. Mulder walked to the fridge, the bottle dangling from one hand. He swilled Beep from the carton in a belated attempt to turn five ounces of Smirnoff into a very large screwdriver. He carried both out into the living room, and looked out his window while pouring another drink .
He had been in his car, halfway to her apartment, thumbing the keypad of his cell with one hand.
“Scully, it’s me. Diane Beadlon said she’d meet with us.” It took Mulder a moment to realise that the strange sound on the other end of the line had a beat. There were voices, loud voices, and laughter.
“Is she going to show up this time?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m willing to give it one more shot.” He paused, pulling the car over. “I was actually on my way to your place, but I’m guessing you’re not there.”
“Uh, no, I’m not, I’m kind of at a party.” That was not the response Dana Scully usually gave to a call to duty.
“No, no, nothing important, you’ll just have to come here and get me.”
The address was less than ten blocks from Scully’s apartment. Mulder studiously concentrated on the building, flashing lights and bodies in the window of a trendy renovated brownstone. It was better than looking at his partner, who was wearing what appeared to be, actually, was very definitely a low-riding pair of jeans and a black silk shirt tied below her breasts. Mulder saved his mind the trouble of deciding between staring at her surprisingly defined belly or the firm swells of her breasts by studying the street sign. This wasn’t before he caught a glimpse of overlaid shimmers of deliberately applied glitter and faint sweat-sheen across the top of her cleavage.
“What did, uh, Beadlon say? Where are we going?” Scully brushed at her bangs, pressing them back into a mixture or hairspray and sweat. Goddamn, he’s wearing a sweater. One of his Goddamn, three hundred dollar, gorgeous cable-knit sweaters. And jeans. No, he couldn’t be dressed as a clown or something. It’s Halloween and he came as every Cosmo girl’s fantasy sex toy.
“Did you want to run back to your place and change?”
“No, no, I’m fine, I just, need to get a coffee or something.” Mulder, would nipping that outrageous lower lip be considered an unprofessional greeting? We went three blocks while I thought that. Oh, god, I’m in trouble.
“Scully, are you drunk?”
“I’m kind of buzzing right now. I’ll be okay. It’s been a while.” Mulder pulled up to the last gas station before the expressway. God, look at me, Scully thought. What a great picture this is. Mulder, I have been replaced by a horny alien. Breed with me, Earthling. Mars needs men. Scully realised she was laughing at her own jokes and leaned her head against the glove box.
The driver’s door clicked and Mulder stooped back into the car.
“Look, Mulder, why don’t you just leave me here and I’ll call a cab… I shouldn’t be out like this…” He handed her a large coffee.
“We have over an hour before she claimed she’d show up, and it’s a forty-minute drive. Besides, I’m not eating all this chocolate stuff by myself.” He waved a little orange jack-o-lantern bag from the store’s discount bin, rattling with mini-bars and powder candies.
“Happy Halloween, Scully.” She sipped at the coffee, removing the lid and holding it between her fingers. Do not say ‘eee, candy’ and grab at the bag, she told herself.
Mulder always got her coffee right. Though tonight, Dana thought, would be a good night for one of those flavoured creamers, amaretto or something. No, Irish Cream. Mulder could skip the coffee, pull off that sweater, toss it at me and let me inhale his cologne once from it while he pours the creamer down his chest and we’ll be in business. Not to mention out of a job.
“Mmm… thanks.” She replaced the lid and reached to rub at her eyes with her free hand, then remembered the copious quantity of mascara that was waiting there to smear. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“I’m okay for now, but I’m going to need you to grab the map in about a half hour. What kind of loot did we get?” Scully was a little more willing to play along than usual, early embarassment forgotten, and opened up the orange plastic bag.
“Mulder, this is amazing…”
“What?” he glanced over at her. There was a cold mist, and he was wary of frost on the road. The attention to his partner was short, but rather focused.
“Yes Mulder, they’re breasts,” she said casually. Busted, Mulder. “This is the candy bag you always dreamed of as a child. We all did. No gum. No hard candies. It’s all good stuff. Ooh, pink elephant.”
“What exactly were you drinking, Scully?”
“No, the popcorn, the candy corn, the pink elephant kind.”
“Damn right.” She pulled out the small box and yanked it open, digging a small hand in. It stopped midway to her mouth, dropping to her lap. “Mulder, I’m sorry, this is really unprofessional. I should have just stayed where I was.”
“Pick a pole. Stay there. How much did you have to drink, anyway?”
“Seriously, Mulder, I had three drinks, well four because one was a double. I got there, and I was sort of uncomfortable, and I drank a lot really fast, well, a lot for me anyway.”
“What was wrong?”
“Nothing, I guess, it’s just a long time since I’ve been out, you know, with people who I don’t really know though I’ve known them a long time. I was never really much of a party person anyway. And, I feel …strange… dressed like this.” Mulder chuckled slightly at that.
“Well, it is a little strange. Not bad, but a bit strange seeing it.” This time, when he glanced over, he made eye contact.
“Yeah, you’re ogling.” Scully’s voice didn’t betray any great distress with it.
“I am not.”
“Either you’re ogling, or I’ve got a giant liver fluke in my cleavage and you’re too polite to tell me. You’d better be ogling.” Oh, and by the way Mulder, there is a strong positive statistical correlation between times Dana Scully has had a bit too much to drink and times she has made unwise decisions regarding sexual activity.
“I may have ogged once. It was not a full-fledged ogle.”
“Mulder, do you have any idea how to dance?” Scully blurted after swigging hugely from her coffee.
“I don’t. I forgot somewhere. I’m pretty sure I knew in college.” She gulped again. “Okay, Mulder. Beadlon. What did she say?” Mulder kept his face benignly expressionless as Scully’s suddenly shortened attention span flipped channels. He imagined her moving, hips drawing a two-beat circle, arms raised dragging the silk shirt up against the undercurves of her breasts, hair sliding across her face. Everybody remembers how to dance, Scully, you do it once and you never forget.
“Same as the last two times. She can show us the manifestations if we meet her there, and she’ll show us how she can control them.”
“So we’re actually spending Halloween night driving into the country to meet a woman who claims she can manipulate ghosts.”
“These are pretty good ghosts, though. This is one of the most reliable area hauntings in the northeast.”
“All I’ve seen is pictures that, while we can’t figure out how they were faked, are more likely to be good fakes than real ghosts.”
“Well, you could have stayed at the party.”
“And try to keep explaining what it is I do for a living? You can’t say you’re with the FBI, or he gets this ‘women with guns’ thing going. I can’t say I’m a doctor, it leads to bad pickup lines. Oh, I get paid 32K a year to drive around in the country looking for ghosts. No, like it or not, you’re the only one who understands.” She scanned out the passenger window once.
“I usually just say I hang drywall,” Mulder offered.
“Lift heavy things.” Scully added over her coffee.
“You fantasize about getting paid for that, Mulder?” she said with a slight tease in her voice.
“I fantasize about not paying for it.”
“Well, thanks for clearing up any questions I might have had about what to get you for Christmas. Blonde, or brunette?”
I’ve always been partial to homemade gifts, they’re a lot more personal, don’t you think Scully?
Or, Mulder, I know a slightly hammered redhead who’d like to side her slightly chilled hands up under your sweater and see if you squirm.
There was no plausible response or way to continue that particular line of conversation, Mulder thought. Sometimes it was funny, sometimes challenging. Sometimes the undertone was deadly serious. Scully was going a lot further than usual, but she had four… probably vodka and limes, it occurred to him after a moment, in her. And she seemed to maybe be enjoying the unprofessionalism a bit-while he watched the road, he was noticing that she was glancing at him occasionally, as if to make sure he wasn’t forgetting the fact that she was sitting there in a loose scrap of black silk tied in a chunky knot that could probably be solved with his teeth.
“Okay, Scully, what else is in that bag?”
“Sure,” he replied, and she held the licorice out with one hand. “Oh, good, red, I was afraid they’d try to hide the black ones in here.” Mulder ducked over sideways, grabbing the end of it with his teeth. Scully kept her expression as serious as possible.
“You know, I was intending to share that.” Mulder responded by growling like a puppy and shaking his head sideways, tugging on the red licorice.
“Okay, fine.” She let it go, and her turned back to the road, the candy bobbing from his mouth. “You know Mulder, if you weren’t a grown man, driving a car at sixty miles an hour, and an FBI agent who is currently on duty, that would almost be cute.”
“Ish Hallowee’ nigh’, you’re ‘itting there ‘ressed like ‘Hadonna,” Mulder chomped down on the candy muffling his speech, “we’re going out to talk to a woman who claims she can control ghosts, and you’re talking to me about professionalism?”
This has to stop.
When she falls asleep on my shoulder, it’s distracting in a warm, fuzzy, old-fashioned way. It’s actually nice.
When she falls asleep like that, stretched back in the seat, wearing THAT, it’s distracting in all the wrong ways. Especially when her bra is from when she used to be heavier, and one breast is shifting, nosing its way out like some independent-minded little animal, one raspberry nipple just beginning to show and just begging to be…
“Scully, are you cold?”
“Hm? I wouldn’t know, I’m falling asleep.” Mulder opened the driver’s door and went around to the trunk. Scully stretched, rubbing at her left eye, feeling a greasy smear acoss the heel of her hand. “Oh, fuck…”
“Scully! Did I just hear you put the F in FBI?” Mulder slid back into the driver’s seat, handing her his black leather jacket.
“Mulder, remember two-for-one burrito day, and how you wanted to just forget that ever happened? Grant me the same indulgence… thanks.” She slipped into the jacket. Well, that may have warmed her up but it didn’t do anything at all for me, Mulder thought. If a little large, the jacket made her, if possible, even more distracting, making glimpses of her body slightly harder to come by but still eminently rewarding.
They were sitting in the car, in a parking lot of a small regional park close to an hour’s drive southwest from Arlington. Scully had snickered when they pulled in and two other cars, young occupants spooked into temporary chastity, pulled out. Beadlon had claimed that tonight would be ‘quite the show indeed, being Halloween and all, bring a camera.’ The woman was now twenty-five minutes late, and Mulder had had the dubious job of keeping himself company as Scully snored lightly.
“Scully, does it ever strike you as strange that we’re the paranormal investigations division of the largest law enforcement agency in the world, and yet we spend so much time being bored?” Mulder had reclined his seat and was wiggling his way into prone comfort.
“Nothing strikes me as strange anymore. And actually, I think there’s some larger law enforcement agencies, we’re just the best.” She paused for a moment, cranking her seat back as well. “Which reminds me. What’s our jurisdiction for Beadlon and the ghosts?”
“So there’s ghosts, if there are, which I’m not saying. Why do we need to investigate them? Where’s the crime?”
“Mulder, Diane Beadlon found out about you on a site on the Internet called the Weird Yellow Pages and she’s ditched on us twice already.”
“Scully, even you said you couldn’t explain the photos she sent.”
“I can’t explain how they get the caramel inside the chocolate bar either. That doesn’t mean I’m staking out the Caramilk factory.”
“You would, though.”
“Hmmm… no, if was going to shake down a candy factory it would be where they make KitKats, I think, and Coffee Crisp.” Mulder had seen Scully eat a Coffee Crisp once, performing a bizarre, carefully sensual autopsy on it with her teeth to extract one of the middle layers and save it until last. She didn’t know he was watching.
“No. Chocolate covered cherries. Not the little ones, the big ones, the Cherry Blossoms. There’s a mystery.” Mulder waved a finger to make his point.
“Nice dodge, Mulder, but we still don’t have jurisdiction over Beadlon’s ghosts.”
Mulder had arranged to meet the eccentric-sounding but apparently sincere woman at midnight, appropriately enough. She’d begged off two previous arranged meetings-one on account of “factors beyond her control.” The other, she called Mulder to apologise and say that she had driven by the arranged pancake house but chnaged her plans when she saw that there were fluorescent lights inside. Rays, you see. He wondered if the sequined cats-eye glasses the rotund woman wore on her own link from the Weird Yellow Pages were a permanent protective device.
“So whose par-tay were you at?” Mulder dodged again.
“The usual, friends of a friend I went to med school with… who now is married and makes four times as much as I do…”
“Married. I can say I have never been close to getting married.”
“Oh, really Mulder. I can’t imagine why not. Not Phoebe Green?”
“Definitely not Phoebe. Marriage would have cramped her style. Monogamy kind of cramped her style.”
“Sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t give her that much credit. I’m fully recovered.”
“Jack and I were… definitely getting there.” Scully settled herself again, and the lapel of Mulder’s jacket fell down beside her, exposing skin he was most certainly not going to look at. “It’s funny, I think back now, and I think I broke it off with him for all the wrong reasons.” She flicked her eyes sideways very quickly at Mulder, and yes, there was definitely the faintest of twitches of interest. “Not that I regret it, I don’t, but my reasons at the time were pretty self-centred.”
Well, this is new, he thought.
“I thought he was trying to hold me back in my career just because I was his little Dana. Thinking back now, I really did need to be held back. I was very arrogant, very inflexible, and really did, I don’t know, almost power trip on being an FBI agent. I was pretty bad with other agents, at first. I think that was probably why I was tracked into Quantico instead of into the field.” She leaned one elbow against the door of the car, the tips of her fingers resting on her forehead. “I see now that there were a great many other reasons for both of us that it wouldn’t have worked, but I feel bad that I left him like that. He was trying to protect me, which I resented, but in some ways he was trying to protect me from myself.”
“You weren’t actually engaged, were you?” Mulder tossed out the question casually but carefully, not wanting her to withdraw.
“No, but it was coming, you know, you follow a certain progression in a traditional relationship like that. We’d taken vacations together, he was going to come for Christmas to my parents’. At the time I wouldn’t have moved in with him or anything without a ring, my mother would have died, shortly after Ahab killed me that is.”
Mulder snorted with laughter, and began scratching patterns into a Hershey Kiss wrapper with his thumbnail.
“I was nowhere even near that. I was with someone else in the Bureau, she was in counterintelligence originally but she actually worked on a couple of X-files with me back in ’90, ’91. She just came up to me one day and told me she was taking a liaison posting in Germany and that was it. Said goodbye. I got a Christmas card from her one year. At the time, I was better off alone anyway. I was just starting to remember Sam’s abduction, and getting into the X-files, and I didn’t have much in me for anything else.”
“What was her name?”
“Fowley. Diana Fowley.”
“Di-ana. I see. And she worked on X-files.” Definitely a dry little tease again, he thought.
“She was a brunette, though. And, uh…” Mulder trailed off, then began an obviously unrelated sentence.
“Tall?” Scully cut him off.
“I didn’t say that. I haven’t actually been on a date since, I think, I met a woman at a New Year’s party in 1991, we went out for drinks once, dinner once.”
“1992. Dinner and a movie with a nice, polite, boring, old-fashioned, chauvanistic thoracic surgeon. It was a disaster.”
“What’d you see?”
“Glengarry Glen Ross.”
“There’s a great date movie.” Mulder turned sideways on the reclined seat and looked at her with what she could only regard as the countenance of a man taking a tentative step out onto a tightrope. “You realise, Scully, between us we haven’t had a date in almost eight years?”
“Then it’s a good thing most of the Bureau thinks we’re sleeping together. Otherwise people would be trying to fix us up with their friends.” Dana decided that if he was going to take one little step, she might as well run out onto the middle of the wire and jump up and down.
Mulder only chuckled in response, and pretended to look for Diane Beadlon out the window. Speaking of traditional relationships, he thought. There it is. We just had The Talk. Both made it clear that we are definitely single, both hinting at frustration over our lack of …action.
Scully mentally added up the scorecard, for lack of a better word. Carefully left options open for any kind of relationship from casual on up. Expressed negative opinions regarding past relationships. I took a very big stretch to make a casual joke about us sleeping together, and Mulder didn’t react with horror. Mulder even dropped a veiled hint about a preference for commitment and stability. I can handle this, I sort of expected this. I kind of want to jump him right now and get it over with, but that’s the vodka and the way he’s looking at my chest talking. Even when he drools, he drools respectfully.
“Okay, even I will give up after having been stood up three times.”
“I’m no longer drunk, Mulder. I’m on the end of a sugar buzz from all this candy, and I’m starving.”
“We should give her another,” Mulder pulled himself up from the half-reclined driver’s seat, plucking his watch from the dashboard, “half hour. Then, I say Denny’s.”
“I’m ashamed to say you’re reading my mind. Have we eaten all the candy yet?”
“Oh, no, Scully.” He sat up, turning towards her, twirling a mini-Kit Kat bar between his finger.
“You hid that.”
“No, no, you must have missed it somewhere.” Mulder began unwrapping the chocolate, pulling the crimson sleeve off of it, peeling back the foil.
“You are going to share that, I assume.” The growl had only a trace of serious red in it. Mulder looked hurt.
“Scull-ee! How could you think anything else?” He held the bar up in front of his face and snapped the two fingers apart with infinite feigned concentration. “Have to make sure that nobody gets more chocolate.”
“I wish my brothers had been so courteous.” Scully turned towards him, laying sideways in her reclined seat. The jacket fell open, revealing a gorgeous curve of moonlit ivory framed by black silk. Mulder turned the long wafer over in his fingers as he brought it towards her face. She arched an eyebrow at him and moved forward, nipping the candy between her teeth. Mulder did not release it, and she glanced up. Slowly moving her eyes down to the Kit-Kat, she bit down, and pulled half of the candy into her mouth with an elegant flick of her tongue. Mulder popped the remaining half into his mouth, then held up the other remaining chocolate wafer. He placed it between his teeth, the end pointing out, leaning slightly towards her.
So this is how it’s going to be, Dana thought.
I could just say ‘oh, please, Mulder’ and look disgusted.
Someone in this car is going to pay.
She ducked in close to him, tilting her head slightly sideways, opening her mouth around the candy. Her eyes closed as her jaws did, her lips within a hair of brushing Mulder’s. She rolled herself back quickly as she chewed, leaning against the passenger door. The jacket fell open, and Mulder saw a faint flush spreading across her upper chest. Her legs stretched out towards him, strong under black denim. Slipping a hand into the pocket of his leather jacket, she pulled out a small yellow box.
“You’re the one who’s been hiding things, Scully.”
“Cherry Blossom, Mulder. Willing to share?” She opened the top flap, extracting the dark confection, examining it slowly, careful to avoid Mulder’s eyes.
“Always.” His voice was rough. He wasn’t sure exactly what game he had been starting, and was not at all prepared for how willing Scully had been to play along. She turned the chocolate around once in her delicate, graceful fingers.
And placed it between her teeth.
Mulder leaned towards her, careful to support himself on the dashboard and not press too close to her. He felt her legs opening around him. Moved closer, smelling unusual perfume, secondhand smoke, chocolate. Without closing his eyes, he opened his mouth, moving just slightly sideways to avoid noses, nipping down on the candy. He heard Scully chuckle as they bit down simultaneously, her hand suddenly snaking around the back of his neck. The candy exploded between them, sweet syrup spilling down Scully’s chin as their mouths found each other around the chocolate debris.
oh, Jesus, chocolate and Scully, two great tastes that go great together.
Something small dropped between them and Scully laughed again, breaking the kiss, pressing her forehead against Mulder’s. He glanced down, and saw a smear of sweet impact between her breasts, another high on her well-muscled belly. She looked down as well, and whispered wickedly,
“Wanna get that, Mulder?”
The candied cherry had slipped down between them, lodging like a sugared gem against her navel. Couldn’t have planned that better, she thought, sensibility forgotten.
Mulder’s head dipped, his tongue slipping over her syrup-smeared chin, making her laugh and roll her head back. He bit delicately at her exposed neck, then placed a very light kiss on her collarbone, then the upper slope of her breast. Scully’s breathing was deep and even. He placed his lips over the trace of red candy just above the tie of her shirt, suckling it gently off her skin. She felt his hands slip around her back, his nails tracing lightly down her sides. His mouth suddenly closed on her abdomen, sucking harder on another sugary telltale. She fought the urge to arch her back, lest she dislodge the prize Mulder was pursuing. He reached it then, and he somehow seemed to manage to curl his tongue under it, pulling the cherry into his mouth. Then slow, gentle darts of his tongue into her navel, clearly directed. Scully exhaled sharply, pressing her belly up towards him. She felt him blow cool air on her now-dampened skin, and his lips pressed lower, just above the waistband of her jeans.
He withdrew, straightening up, positively radiating smugness, and moved in towards her mouth again.
Dana amended her previous vow. Someone in this car is really going to pay.
Scully ducked sideways, his lips brushing her cheek. Mulder pulled back, smiling slightly nervously as she curled one strong leg up, pulling her knee between them. Scully slid slightly lower, placing her heel in the centre of Mulder’s chest, pushing him back.
“What…?” She did not answer, getting up on her knees in the passenger seat.
“Put your legs up here,” she instructed huskily. He complied, longs limbs stretching out into the passenger seat, Scully nimbly straddling them. She lurched forward suddenly, her head nearly in his lap, and he felt a strong hand tugging at his belt.
“Jesus, Scully, you don’t have to… I mean, I want you to, but…”
“Shut up.” Her voice was soft, shot through with desire but dark. The hands reached up to his waistband and Mulder lifted his hips as she tugged his jeans and boxers down to his knees, together in one motion. His ruddy penis lolled almost fully erect in front of her
jesus my cock is three inches from Scully’s mouth
She straightened up, and undid the knot at the front of her shirt. She was wearing a plain bra of black satin, clasped at the front, now opened as well and shrugged back. Mulder got only a glance at Scully’s lovely pale breasts before she swooped down on him. Mulder was long, and thick, and he felt her mouth close on the head of his penis before Scully’s nipples brushed against his naked thighs. Oh god, it was good. Warm, wet, closed just around the head of him. She bobbed down once, lips tightening around the shaft. A second time, lower, and he felt her tongue curl along his circumference.
oh god, I’m getting head from Scully and she’s so good, Scully with the red hair my partner and we’ve been everywhere together and I know what her shampoo smells like and I save you, you save me, three years together and I’m in her pretty mouth
“Scully… please, stop… wait…” His knees came up under her torso, gently, lifting her away from him.
“What?” she whispered, hair falling in her face. Her breasts hung appealingly, and Mulder reached down and took hold of her shoulders.
“No, Scully. Not like this.” He pulled her up towards him, and she avoided the kiss he tried to place on her parted lips. She let him pull her against his body, both of them nestled in the driver’s seat, leaning back against the door. “I want this, Scully, I do. Just not like this. I do have a bed, y’know.”
“What if this is the only way I can do it, Mulder?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t know if I can do this unless I’m not thinking straight. This might be a one-time offer.” She pulled back slightly, turning to face him while staying close. Jesus Christ, Dana Scully is actually panting, the part of Mulder’s brain that wasn’t dancing a happy fertility dance inside his erect cock thought. Her breasts are right there, and they are the most amazing breasts I have ever seen in my life. I think her hips are actually jerking. Dana Scully has fuck-reflexes. I bet she’s hot enough to feel through her jeans.
And it’s Scully.
“Scully…” He pulled her close again, pressing his lips to her hair. “I don’t want a one-time offer.”
“Mulder, sometimes I stand outside the door of your room, when we’re in a motel… for I don’t know how long, trying to tell myself that all I have to do is open the door. I’ve woken up in my own bed surprised that you’re not there. And there are times when you are the last person I want to see or hear, because you’re always there and I’m not sure what I’d do if you weren’t.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. I don’t get carried away easily. I don’t know if it’s a bad thing when I do.” She stayed in his arms, though, surprised at his reaction, his composure. It was quiet for a time.
“Mulder, I like this.” Nuzzled against him, sending flurries of nerve messages through his body. “but we have to think.”
“Don’t sleep with your partner?”
“It’s more than that. When was the last time you spoke to someone besides me for more than five minutes?” He didn’t respond. “Same here, Mulder.”
“Okay, you’re putting me off now? Who was the one who was…?”
“I’m sorry, Mulder. I really wanted to… and because we’d dared each other into a corner and I wasn’t going to be the one to back down.” She heard Mulder breathe soft laughter for a moment.
“Tell you what, next time I try to do the right thing tell me to shut up, okay?” She turned her face up to him and he kissed her on the lips, delicately, quickly.
“You had it coming, Mulder. You did suggestive things with a KitKat and sucked a chocolate cherry out of my navel. No woman can be held responsible for anything she does in the half hour following an experience like that.”
“So you’re saying I should pull up my pants.” Scully looked down at him, and breathed deeply once.
“For the time being. And I should probably do something about this.” She glanced down at her pale, naked torso. Mulder tried not to make a lingering memorisation too obvious.
“If you must.”
“Thanks for what you said… about not wanting it this way.” They arranged themselves, quietly, taking their seats and tucking all exposed body parts back into the garments they belonged in. It was quiet for a few minutes, except for seats being raised, Scully quietly picking up candy wrappers. Mulder started the engine and threw the car into gear in one motion.
“Okay. I don’t think we’re seeing any ghosts tonight, and I have a Moons Over My Hammy calling.”
Dana Scully rolled over in bed for the seventh time in the past fifteen minutes. You could tell a lot about a woman from her bedroom, she thought. Plenty of grownup furniture out in the living room, but in here I have a cruddy garage-sale bookshelf full of old textbooks and a lamp and dresser I got for my eighteenth birthday. That’s a very promising sign. I may as well still be in college. I wish I was, at least I would have a roommate to talk to right now.
“yeah, I went out with this really nice guy , yeah him, we’re mostly just friends, but, y’know I think he really likes me, and we talked for a while and we were sort of coming onto each other but it was really kind of nice and romantic and sexy and we started fooling around a bit and then I just like TOTALLY jumped him and it got all weird, it was like, ohmigod…”
Unfortunately, I am a grown-up FBI agent who having sobered up from her earlier drunken state, engaged in heavy petting and tried to give her partner a blowjob while we were on duty, ridiculous duty though it may have been. But since I’m a grown up FBI agent, I have numerous options.
One: Call Mulder and tell him to get his gorgeous ass over here and fuck my brains out. Pros: High probability of multiple orgasms. Cons: High probability of multiple headaches.
Two: Shoot myself. Pros: Eliminates future consideration of Option One. Cons: Eliminates future consideration of Option One.
Three: Roll over again.
Three it is.
My navel isn’t even sticky, for God’s sake. What a tongue that man has on him.
What were those options again?
slings and arrows to:
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