Slip Me the Wiener, Spooky-Boy by Jacquie LaVa

Slip Me the Wiener cover

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Slip Me the Wiener, Spooky-Boy by Jacquie LaVa

Slip Me the Wiener cover

“Slip Me the Wiener, Spooky-Boy” By Jacquie LaVa


RATING: What, are you kidding? With a title like that? NC-17!!

SPOILERS: Spoilers? We Don’ Need No Stinkin’ Spoilers!

ARCHIVE: You bet! Just tell me where!

DISCLAIMERS: They’re not mine – you think CC would let them do this kind of stuff?


AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to my X-tremely wonderful betas: Foxsong, my Beta-Goddess, who encourages my shameless behavior while providing great comic relief and sending me gorgeous graphics; Shoshana and Cat, always willing to read this stuff and cheer me on – as always, you guys are the best!

SUMMARY: Recipe for smut: one bachelorette party, about a hundred tequila shooters, a game dreamed up by one ‘Spooky’ Mulder… and a redheaded partner just drunk enough to play it… yield: one helluva smut-cake!

♦ ♦ ♦

“Slip Me the Wiener, Spooky-Boy”

As the hat moved from hand to hand, and the little folded-up notes were selected by each attendee not already passed out drunk… the aesthetic quality of the gathering (such as it was) rapidly slid downhill.

Scully blamed the tequila shooters.

She had watched with leery trepidation as the hat got closer and closer to her… vaguely remembering what she’d written down on the tiny square of lilac paper, folding it up neatly and precisely; tossing it in with the others. That had been much earlier in the evening, when she (and everyone else) had been sober. Thinking back on what she had written, it hadn’t seemed so bad at the time. However, now that she was more or less inebriated, she had a feeling those words could come back to haunt her – luckily she couldn’t choose her own. Liddy had stood drunkenly on the low cocktail table, hat tucked under her arm, and had announced to the general gathering, “Remember, no fair keeping your own if you pull it, Ladies – fold it back up and toss ‘er back in! You gotta choose somebody else’s…” Scarcely had the words left her mouth than her eyes rolled up in her head and she passed out, cold. Snickers and loud cackles had filled the room, blended in with remarks of, “What a wuss!…” “Can’t hold her booze, poor thing…” Someone pushed Liddy’s comatose body to the end of the sofa, took the hat out of her hands, and began the passing-around ritual.

The hat was coming closer, and Scully found herself staring at it, mesmerized; focused in tightly on the swirls of red, blue and green stripes; it was being handled, right next to her – Carrie had hold of it, and was rooting around, amid a lot of hooting screeches and groans of mock-panic, as little folded notes were opened up, and read aloud in gasping, laughing and generally noisy voices. Like a microphone picking up on only the worst of the background static, Scully could hear snippet-like bursts of words, over the roaring in her own ears:

“… stall at midnight, oh, shit… how in hell…”

“… a furniture store, you’ve got to be kidding me!…”

“… Oh. My. God. I can’t, I’m sorry!…”

She was next… and her stretched nerves were rapidly getting the jump on her previously-relaxed state of alcoholic euphoria; the colors streaming around the hat brim were dancing and wriggling as she watched her unsteady hand reach out, and grasp; watched her other hand slowly delve into the floppy crown; fish around with numb fingers… pull out a small folded square. Hurriedly she passed the hat to her right; held onto the little note, unopened in her palm. She cast one furtive glance to the door, then around the room, noting how everyone else seemed preoccupied either with getting drunk, maintaining their level of drunkenness or reading their own little note out loud and screaming with laughter. She shifted her weight to her feet, ready to bolt…

“Dana Scully, don’t even THINK about it! Don’t you move… just read your note; c’mon already! We all did it… now it’s your turn! Don’t you wimp out on us, now -after all, this was all your idea!” This from her (soon to be ‘ex’) friend Nina… one of the wilder ones in the group known as “The Medi-Maids’… all through med school together, sharing one huge house, off-campus; eight of them, friends for life back then, back when they were always tired and hungry and smelled of cadavers. Liddy and Carrie and Nina and Sue; Francine and Marie and Sydney… and Dana. They’d stayed in touch, over the years; sometimes visiting when they got a chance; mostly phoning each other, then more recently, by email. Eight lovely women, all in medicine; six of them practicing, one of them semi-retired already… and one of them running around under cover of the FBI, with one Fox Mulder as a partner and ‘Spooky’ cohort. Assembled together again, after years apart from each other – oh, once in awhile three or four of them would get together, but not the whole gaggle… not until now – not until Francine had sent out emails to all of them, announcing her engagement. Francine, the level-headed one; the confirmed bachelorette… getting married. To another woman. Scully was still having a bit of a problem with that startling bit of news… None of the other ‘Maids’ had ever known Francine was a lesbian. Apparently, neither had Francine, up until about a year ago when she walked into the wrong sort of bar in Greenwich Village, to meet a blind date named Harold… but Harold had been a no-show. She’d sat in the Club Deluxe, waiting for him; at the same time, Harold was across town, sitting in the Deluxe Pub, waiting for her. Harold went home alone, pissed off and horny; but Francine went home with a lovely blonde named Penny who worked as an accountant at CitiMortgage and had a cat and a nice apartment and a thing for raven-haired pediatricians… and who gave the new love of her life a huge two-carat diamond solitaire as an engagement ring.

The ring glittered on Francine’s finger, as she pointed it at Scully, and half-rose from her corner of the sofa, black hair spiky-cut and sticking straight up, eyes heavy from lack of sleep and too many shots of tequila. “You HAVE to read it out loud, Dana-Maid… you’re the last one to pick, and we all told, so… let’s hear it!” She dragged herself off the fat cushions of the sofa, all five feet-ten inches of her slender, golden-skinned self, and began to dance with inebriated glee around (and on top of) the low cocktail table, which was getting quite a workout tonight; chanting, “TELL! Tell, tell, tell…” The others picked up the chant, and tossed it up into the air around Scully’s poor aching head; she groaned aloud at the sound of it, grating on her ears, and scrambled to her feet, pushing at Francine, knocking her back onto the sofa right next to Liddy who was still passed out and snoring; she climbed upon the table herself, and shouted to the room in general.

“SHUT UP ALL OF YOU I’M NOT TELLING…!!!” The silence which accompanied her outburst lasted about three seconds, as each Maid digested this bit of rebellion. Carrie slowly got to her feet, and positioned herself front and center of Scully’s elevated stance, looking up at her with wide eyes; just as slowly the others stood, and stared…

And Francine, still sprawled on the sofa, smiled the most evil little smile, and whispered sweetly, “Not telling? Well, all I have to say to that statement is… GET HER!!!” And instantly six women were on Dana Scully, and holding her down as she screeched and cursed colorfully in their general vicinity… and Carrie pried the note out of her clenched fingers, and swiftly tore it open and read it, to herself… then gasped. Then laughed, full-throated belly laugh; doubled over with tears in her eyes… for Dana had gotten her note -and when Carrie had written it, she’d done so with Dana in mind, knowing there wouldn’t be a chance of little ‘Catholic-Girl Scully’ ever following the directive written there… and she’d be one thousand dollars richer.

“Dana Scully, I LOVE YOU! Maybe I’ll just invest the loot…” And from her pinned-down position on the floor, Scully groaned aloud, just knowing the contents of that note had to be truly awful… Part of her wanted to hear the words, and the other part curled into a fetal ball deep inside her body and wailed for a ‘wooby’… as Carrie took a deep breath, and with much glee, revealed the directive to the room at large…

♦ ♦ ♦

“A harmless party game or two”… that had been her assignment; her contribution to the bachelorette party for Francine. Scully had sat in a hot bath, soaking in lemon-scented bubbles, racking her brain for any kind of a game she might have played, at any sort of shower-type party… nothing. She couldn’t come up with diddley… and the party was tonight. She had three hours to come up with something… and she hated being put on the spot like this. Thinking back on all the parties of her youth… Scully discovered something rather pathetic: she hadn’t attended all that many. Oh, she could drag up a few silly birthday parties, in her teens; some with boys but most without – and the games they played had been equally goofy, such as “Pass the Orange” or even “Twister”. Scully couldn’t imagine playing “Twister” with the ‘Maids’, no matter how much she cared for them. She’d gone to maybe two other bridal showers, in young adulthood; boring, dry affairs populated mostly by the bride-to-be’s elderly female relatives, who sat and gossiped and passed discreet gastronomic ‘bombs’ into their chairs, while watching the intended open her gifts and make a silly “bow-hat” out of all the ribbons and bows from the gifts, attached to a paper plate. Doubtful the ‘Maids’ would enjoy something that lame…

So Scully had soaked, and dredged up memories best left un-dredged… had even called Mulder, after she’d removed herself from the lemon bubbles and wrapped herself in her fleece robe. At the time, she’d been desperate for an idea, any idea… and at the time, calling her partner had seemed like a good idea. <What a dumb-ass I can be>… Mulder had been his usual helpful self, which meant he was no help at all.

“Party games, Scully? You mean, ‘Musical Chairs’ and ‘Gossip’… or ‘Sit on My Face and I’ll Guess Your Weight’…” his weird musings were interrupted by her shocked, “Mulder! There is no such game as… as… that…!” His snort of laughter had echoed in her ear.

“How would you know, Scully – ever gone to a bachelor party? Women, booze, drugs and women, in that order…I’ve been to a few. I weighed a girl once, on my face… very accurate too, as I remember…” Scully made a gagging noise and he laughed again.

“I suppose you won, Mulder… and I suppose I should ask you what your prize turned out to be…” His snicker wasn’t lost on her.

“Oh, I won, all right, Scully… but I’ll preserve your delicate sensibilities and not tell you what I won. So… games. A bunch of thirty-something women, sitting around waiting to play something shower-related. Hmmm… I suppose flavored massage oils are out – after all, who would you rub with it… Oohhhmmmmm – Better not go there…” Visions of beautiful, scantily-clad women rubbing each other with strawberry-scented massage oil danced across his nose and slid down his chest and landed in a puddle on top of his too-tight jeans… Scully chuckled; she knew exactly why his voice had petered (no pun there) out. Men… so predictable – such… men. She cleared her throat and gently prodded him.

“Games, Mulder? Helping me out here? – although – I wonder at the wisdom of it; asking you for advice on something such as this…” His indignant huff made her smile.

“Scully, you wound me… it so happens I know the perfect game for this little bridal soiree of yours: why don’t you do ‘Slip Me the Wiener’…”? A stifled gasp on the other end; he chuckled into the receiver, and waited for the outburst.

“Oh, God… ‘Slip Me the Wiener’, Mulder??” She ignored his breathy, “Anytime, Agent…” and plunged on, fighting to keep from blushing even though she knew he couldn’t possibly know… “I’ll bet I’m going to regret asking this, but… what’s the game plan?” And, as Mulder’s voice lowered to a low rumble, and he pressed the rules of the game into the mouthpiece, sending the words directly into her veins and causing her suddenly over-heated body to break into a sweat… Scully knew she was regretting it already…

♦ ♦ ♦

In the end, she took a taxi home; not wanting to try driving. She was still drunk, still shaky and still in shock mode by the words written on that little piece of paper. She sat in the dark, musty-smelling cab, mentally taking stock of her finances and knowing without even debating that she wouldn’t shell out a thousand dollars to anyone. She made a good salary for a government agent, but… a thousand dollars represented two trips to some fun locale; or a new wardrobe of suits, to replace those several favorites of hers that had been ruined during their last two cases – a thousand dollars was a big deal.

But still… the alternative wasn’t exactly a trip to the beach… more like a jaunt to Heaven by way of Hell.

Actually… the alternative was so scary it excited her, in some perverse way… exactly the way the game was supposed to work, she supposed. Hook the players in with the taboo aspects of it all, then go for the jugular when it would become obvious that nobody would want to cough up the money. Damn Mulder…

He’d known exactly what he was doing when he told her about that blasted game.

♦ ♦ ♦

As soon as he’d gotten off the phone with Scully, Mulder had collapsed on the living room floor in a heap of laughter, rolling around with it, awash in glee. Dropped the cell phone to the carpet with a soft ‘thud’ and finally stretched out, still chuckling; picturing his partner’s lovely face, tight with shock, when he’d whispered to her the game rules of ‘Slip Me the Wiener’. Too funny… and she’d believed him; that was the best part. She’d been hooked in neatly. He supposed that somewhere in the world, a game such as this had been played; after all, some other perverse soul could have dreamed it up for his lady to take to a party, for all he knew…

Mulder liked to think this one was all his, though.

He propped himself on an elbow, still on the floor, and absently scratched at a tickle on his left nut. Well, she’d swallowed it all, and he’d rendered her speechless and panting, as well – he’d been able to hear it in her voice. Damn… that little catch in her throat when she’d whispered his name… he could feel himself stretching to admirable proportions just remembering the sound of it. He adjusted the seam of his jeans, off-center so they wouldn’t cut off his increased… circulation… and tried to imagine the reaction from the rest of her med-school cronies, when they listened to her spout the rules. He never doubted she’d repeat the rules as precisely as he’d relayed them, to her… and he knew what her buddies would say; would be thinking. ‘Catholic-Girl Scully’… he knew they’d given her the nickname, years ago; back in med school when she would have been so young and still somewhat naïve. Mulder had often tried to picture her as she might have looked back then; younger than the Dana Scully who knocked on his basement door seven years ago; just as pretty and just as eager. The eagerness in her had never diminished, not really – it had just re- formed itself into something more driven, less impulsive… but just as hot and bright as ever. He smiled to himself, thinking ahead to the party; wishing he could be a fly on the wall; able to observe all those women as they participated in his little game; not too enthusiastic at first, because it was Dana’s idea, and they’d all think she was too straight-laced to supply any serious fun. Mulder’s grin got huge, and his eyes took on a dark glow, thinking Scully’s friends really didn’t know her very well…

‘Catholic-Girl Scully’s’ buddies had no idea just how hot and bright she could burn, when she caught fire.

♦ ♦ ♦

Scully arrived late; the party was in full swing and the noise level had already begun to rise. She hung her jacket in the small hall closet; Liddy’s home was quite large and beautiful, but as with most Victorian houses, there were no closets to speak of. As she kicked off her shoes (white carpets and heels did not mix well), Scully grabbed a glass of the first wet-looking substance she could find, and dropped her gaily-wrapped gift onto a small side table already cluttered with boxes and bags of all colors and sizes. Liddy was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a plate of crab puffs; she reached out one slightly crab-sticky hand and pulled Scully close enough for a hug, before she pointed in the general direction of the noise. Scully snagged two puffs and followed the wall of sound into the parlor.

Liddy’s parlor was the largest room in the house, and the most ornate. In typical Victorian fashion, every wall was hung with a conglomerate of paintings of fat cherubs, bits of hand-made lace mounted on velvet and framed, candlestick sconces dripping with crystal teardrops… chintz chair covers and vases of flowers and dishes of dried rose petals were scattered amongst the low cherry tables and offset a long, overstuffed fainting sofa which Dan, Liddy’s husband, had refinished for their tenth wedding anniversary. Onto this lovely piece of extravagance Scully dropped, and joined in the happy mix. A tray of tequila shooters passed under her nose; Marie’s sister Tanny plucked one and pressed it into Scully’s hand; she was so engrossed in a conversation with Francine, whom she hadn’t seen in three years, she barely noticed the species of drink… she just downed it in one smooth swallow, and set the empty glass on the table next to the sofa. It magically disappeared and was replaced by another. Just as absently, she picked up the full glass and raised it to her lips…

Completely forgetting that of all the drinks in the world she ever needed to avoid like the plague… tequila shooters topped the list – they always went straight to her bloodstream like a bullet.

About an hour into the party, when it was safe to assume that everyone was on the loose side, and feeling no pain… Francine opened her gifts. There were the usual skimpy nightgowns and garter belts, stockings and even a bra with the nipple area cut out. As each gift was opened and held up for global viewing, accompanied by the usual screams, squeals and tactless remarks – Scully had three more tequila shooters, and wondered why the sofa sat on the floor at such an odd angle. It never dawned on her that she was the one at an odd angle; sitting half on the back cushion, and half on the curved arm. Francine had just opened the first in a series of an odd assortment of sex toys, and more teasing and catcalls ensued, especially when she opened a beautifully- wrapped box, to reveal a double-ended dildo. The shrieks of laughter and screaming hoots as she held it up and tried to admire it, just about shook the glass out of the windows. Francine had turned about six shades of red, but she was laughing herself silly, so she wasn’t too offended by it. Liddy, coming out of the kitchen with a tray of shrimp, just in time to catch a glimpse of the odd-looking appendage, nodded approvingly and remarked, “Oh, nice, Francine -dueling pricks… how thoughtful, hmmmm?” The room erupted into fresh laughter and hooting; Francine turned an alarming shade of crimson and hurriedly dropped it into the box. Scully reached for it, wanting to get a closer look; held it up and stared at it in fascination. It was very realistic-looking, other than the fact it had two heads… really nothing more than two dildoes, each about nine inches long, attached at the bases and sharing one common set of testicles. And as she gazed at it, a mental image came to her, of how such a toy would work for two women… and she turned to Francine and said, “You know, Francine… you and Penny should both get a bang out of this…”

Three seconds later Scully sank to the floor in a heap of absolute mortification… as the words she’d spoken registered in her tequila-muddled brain, and the entire room rocked with laughter.

After that, explaining the rules of ‘Slip Me the Wiener’ was easy.

Made brave by the alcohol content of an unestimated number of shooters, Scully had stood, none too steadily, and announced the commencement of a “little game”. “It’s simple to play, girls… but the rules have to be followed exactly, and trust in the players absolute… or else the game is null and void. You want to hear the rules, ‘Maids’?” A resounding “YES!” was her answer; Scully grinned idiotically, and outlined the rules.

“This is a game of daring, and trust, in your life partner, your one-night- stand, of even that weird kid you see in the elevator at the office each day. Each one us gets a piece of paper -“as she passed out paper to everyone – “and on it, you write the location and the circumstances of a sexual tryst. It can be anything you want, within reason; reason being what is safe, and feasible. Legalities don’t enter into it; the point is to be daring. If you could have sex anywhere, in any fashion and at any time of the day or night… where would it be?” She looked around at the now silent women; aside from a few beginning hoots early on – each of them were now pondering, seriously pondering, where and how they’d always fantasized about ‘doing it’… Nina, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, spoke up dreamily, “Under a full moon in the middle of Lake Lucerne at midnight on a rubber raft in full view of the amusement park on the fourth of July…” At the askance looks she received after spouting that little fantasy, Nina sputtered, “OK, OK! I’ve already done it! But man, was it great!” She sighed, deep in the past, remembering. The others laughed and small conversations broke out all over the room; as ideas were created and swapped, back and forth. Attempting to regain control of the muddle, Scully stomped a foot and yelled into the noisy room.

“LADIES! It has to be something that any of us could accomplish, and this is why: you are going to write it down, and fold it up, and drop it into a hat… and we are all going to draw out a note… and open it… and whatever the note says, that’s what we have to do – because, there is a forfeit if you don’t play the game to the end. And, you can’t do your own, if by accident you pull yours out. You have to put it back and draw again. And, you have exactly one week to complete your directive.

“The cost is one thousand dollars, Ladies… a thousand bucks goes to the person whose note you drew… if, once you agree to play the game, you fail to deliver for any reason.” Scully noted with drunken satisfaction the looks of shock (and budding excitement) on the faces of the ‘Maids’. Something fresh and new… something that actually paid some money… something dangerous and probably illegal as hell… and so damn tempting. And every woman in the room wanted in.

Pens were whipped out of purses and pockets; heads bent over lilac paper squares and the noise level in the room dropped off completely… as eight ‘Maids’ and assorted friends wrote down a fantasy. And after watching the rapt faces of her friends, all busily writing… Scully slowly pulled a pen out of her blazer pocket… and began to write.

Now, an hour later… she found herself pinned under a small mountain of ‘Maids’, while Carrie pried her paper out of her hand, and read it aloud… and the directive written there easily beat out all others, in regards to degree of difficulty, and danger of getting arrested… for some of the others, when first read aloud, had sounded pretty damn good: “In the bedroom section of a furniture store”; “In the women’s bathroom stall at the Lincoln Monument, in the middle of the night”; “Under your boss’s desk during a regular work day, with all the lights on”… to name a few. But Scully’s, written by the erstwhile Carrie, had them all beat; and when it was read aloud, with much giggling and gasping around the room… Scully wanted to sink into the floor; she found herself whispering, “I can’t I can’t I can’t…” even as the words tore across her imagination and left her scared shitless and excited beyond measure:

“In a waiting line of a movie, or a sports-related game (your choice), in broad daylight, with so many people around you can barely move…”

“Carrie… you’d better get those long legs moving, Hon… ‘cause when I catch up with you I AM GOING TO KILL YOU…!”

♦ ♦ ♦

Home at the apartment… hot water hitting her head. Scully wondered how in hell she was going to accomplish the impossible… and not ruin her reputation, and lose her job as well, as she stood under the shower’s spray and let the heat soak into her bones, erasing a goodly portion of her inebriation. In a line full of movie-goers, or worse yet… sports fanatics. God love a sinner… this was just too much. She couldn’t do it… and yet, she wanted to do it, so badly… wanted to shake off the damn priss image that still clung to her like a high lace collar, choking her. She wanted naughty… wanted dangerous… wanted crazy. Hell, she thought to herself… wasn’t that why she’d gotten involved with Mulder in the first place? Granted, it had evolved very quickly into something so much more, for her, but at first, it was naughty… dangerous… crazy. Forbidden to her; intimacy with her partner… so, so wrong… so incredibly right. Going on six weeks now, and getting stronger every day; more intense than ever, this feeling – so hot. Scully had found a side of herself she’d never have recognized, laid wide open by Mulder’s endless desire and love for her. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, in his quest to satisfy her, to make her happy… nothing. Scully’s lips curved into a smile of unholy glee, as she let the water pour down on her, banishing the last of her reticence; her fears. Nothing Mulder wouldn’t do… Hot damn. As she toweled off, and smoothed scented lotion over her skin, she began to plan… to plot.

Mulder was in for one hell of a good time, at the movies… before he even got his seat and his box of Raisinettes.

♦ ♦ ♦

They were just finishing up the last of the paperwork; Mulder for once doing his share of the pencil-pushing. Actually, he’d been really good about it – had completed the reports in record time. And he hadn’t even yawned once, Scully noticed. Biting back a smile at his dedication, knowing he was suffering just so they could get out of the office early… Scully decided it was now or never. Almost a week had gone by…

A week of chewing nails, and worrying, wondering when and how she could get her little plan moving… determined to do this, to prove something to herself. She still wasn’t sure why it was so necessary to prove it; she just knew it was. Plus, they’d both been so busy this week, and hadn’t seen each other outside of work, anyhow. Their days had been packed with meetings, case files and reports; their evenings spent in yet more meetings with the other members of the team hand-picked to orchestrate a sting against a known terrorist group infamous for their random bombings. Scully figured they had at the most a week of normalcy before the operation was put into place… and then their lives wouldn’t be their own, for quite some time.

He’d stayed over on Tuesday; helping with dinner and cleaning up for her; then they’d snuggled on the sofa together, the TV muted and flickering in the darkened room – and had awoken in the morning in roughly the same position, a low static roar from the TV buzzing in their ears. Mulder had thrown a fit, convinced he was getting old. “Shit, Scully… I can’t believe I slept through the night in front of the frigging TV set like an old fart – especially with you pressed up next to me.” He’d leaned over her, there on the sofa, and had run his tongue all over her neck, and her shoulders; tickling her ears and making her squirm. His hands had followed the path of his tongue, rubbing gently at her damp flesh, and she’d moaned and retorted, harsh and low in his ear.

“Mulderrrr… God. I wouldn’t worry about the ‘old fart’ thing… Jesus…” – his mouth found a nipple, and settled in for a leisurely tug-of-war; she shuddered and tried to retain her train of thought. “You’ll probably end up being the most virile, not to mention horny, geezer in the nursing home…Ooohhhh, right there…!” He settled in against her, fingers moving against her softness, nuzzling her so lovingly. He’d stroked her, whispering into her ear, “Silk… everywhere I touch you, I find silk… silky hair, above and below… silky skin… so beautiful…” His kisses, pressed over every inch of her skin, had gotten more intense; she’d moaned and thrashed underneath him on the sofa. His mouth had driven all sensibility from her brain as it delved into hers, tongue slipping over her teeth and sucking at her swollen lips. His body had pressed her down into the sofa cushions, hard and ready for her. Then the alarm on his cell phone had gone off… and they’d run out of time. They’d both cursed in tandem; untangling themselves and running for the shower, bickering about who would go first. Then, rushing around to get ready for the day, they’d shared sweet kisses in the kitchen between bites of bagels, and had promised to take up where they’d left off – only to repeat their dozing performance the next evening. And now it was Friday… and Scully took a deep breath; glanced over at her unsuspecting partner who sat across from her with his face buried in a case file, mumbling under his breath. His hair was on end, from him continually tugging fingers through it; tie askew, shirt wrinkled and sleeves rolled up; red-rimmed eyes and beard stubble.

God, he was gorgeous… she cleared her throat.


“Hmmm…” Not really paying her any attention; nose still buried.

“Mulder, let’s go to the movies…”

♦ ♦ ♦

“Are you sure we’re at the right theater?” Mulder regarded the old building curiously. The

Cumberland… he’d heard of it, but had always assumed it had been shut down, years ago. The facade of brick and wood was in need of repair and paint; the sidewalk was cracked and the marquee faded, but obviously something was playing here, for the street in front of the box office was swarming with people, of all ages. Mulder looked through the crowd, noticing for the first time that many of them were… in costume. Surprised, he glanced at Scully, who was trying to suppress a smile – and failing big-time. Mulder looked up at the faded marquee, piecing together the missing lights and letters, and finally able to figure out what was going on. His raised eyebrows spoke volumes.

“Scully… ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’… you? But you always seemed so normal…” She cuffed him and regarded him frowningly over the rims of her glasses.

“Mulder, I’ll have you know I could “Time Warp” with the best of them, when I was a kid…” Mulder grinned and wrapped his arms around her, back to front; trying to picture an adorable teenage Scully bouncing around her frilly bedroom, dancing to the goofy song. He placed his mouth up against her little ear, and his low voice rumbled there, sending shivers over her.

“I’ll bet you knew all the words, and got dressed up as well, didn’t you?” She relaxed in his arms; her bottom pushed back at him and he rewarded her with a soft groan into her hair. They got jostled a little, by the pushing crowd. Mulder was getting a little impatient with all the people; Scully could tell. She took a deep breath, still a bit incredulous at what she was about to attempt. But she knew Mulder well enough to know he’d not only go along, but invent new ways to improve upon the experience.

God, she hoped so.

It was a little cold; Mulder was glad he’d worn his overcoat; of course, they’d come over straight from work; Scully insisting they’d miss the beginning of the movie if they went home first. He noticed that she was wearing her short car coat; even though she was in a skirt. He wound himself a little closer, and murmured, “Cold? Here, I’ll wrap my coat around you…” She felt the coat envelop her in back… perfect. She felt out of control, here in the massive crowd; she was so glad she’d remembered the weekly ‘Rocky Horror’ matinee, every Friday. This would work just fine for her little directive… huge crowd, primarily made up of ‘Rocky’ lovers… these folks would not notice anything amiss; would not really even notice them. These folks were too busy trading ‘Horror’ stories, primping and preening in their costumes; yelling back and forth to each other; re-acquainting themselves with friends they hadn’t seen in a while. Too busy waiting to get in; hopefully too busy to notice a couple of fellow ‘Rockers’ standing front to back… standing way too close to each other.

Scully shifted her weight a little more and pressed herself deeper into Mulder’s embrace; he started in vague surprise – Scully wasn’t usually that demonstrative in public, but… maybe she was just chilled in that short coat. He had no idea just how wrong he was about to be…

♦ ♦ ♦

“Dana… you’re not really that angry… are you?” Carrie had faced her, cheeks still flushed from an overage of wine; eyes trying to show some level of contrition, and failing miserably. Scully had shaken her head; big mistake, that – because she was very drunk and very dizzy. The rapid movement had only made it worse. She’d grimaced a bit at the sudden nausea and reached out a clammy hand to squeeze Carrie’s fingers.

“I was never angry, Carr – just a bit taken aback, at my little directive… and trying to figure a way – ‘cause there’s no way in Ding Dong Hell I’m paying you a thousand clams.” Carrie hooted suddenly, and poked Scully in the ribs.

“Well, Nun-Gal, there’s one sure way to start – take that luscious partner of yours to task. The man has a face and body to die for, Dana – and I’m not gonna even think about those lips of his -! Man, what it must be like to kiss those sexy lips…” Carrie trailed off meaningfully, and slanted a sly glance at her friend. One thing she’d learned about Dana Scully, all those years ago: get her sloshed enough, and Dana loved to talk dirty about her boyfriends. Sober, she was incredibly tight-assed. But drunk… whoo boy. She prodded her again. “Come on, Dana… give it up! I haven’t been in a relationship for so long that I’m thinking seriously about asking my left hand to move in with me…” Scully snorted a laugh and hiccuped a few times, considering Carrie’s request. Kissing Mulder… loving Mulder. Words alone couldn’t describe it… and she was still getting used to it. Being the center of his attention was so intensely potent; he had the ability to focus on her with tight purpose, all his cognitive and tactile skills trained on her; his level of intelligence only adding to the intensity instead of taking away from it. He could pin her down underneath him with only a look, from those hazel eyes gone smoky with need; could bring her to the fine edge of madness with one well-placed hand. He never said much during sex; he didn’t have to. His body language came across loud and clear. And the few times he had spoken to her with sensuous purpose, outlining in breathy detail everything he’d planned for her body… Scully still got the shivers when she thought back on that night. And now, Carrie wanted details… smut details. Ah, what the hell… Scully had raised her eyes and flushed cheeks to her friend’s amused gaze, and took a deep breath.

“Carrie… Mulder is nothing short of amazing…”

♦ ♦ ♦

Amazing Mulder was, at the moment, trying his best to keep an overly-warm Scully even warmer… and she stared straight ahead into the crowd, and quietly plotted her next move. She’d worn the shorter coat all week, knowing if her chance came, she’d need to afford easy access to her body. She’d also made it a point to wear a skirt every day; Mulder had raised an eyebrow at this, expecting to see more pantsuits as was her normal routine… but certainly not complaining about the expanse of leg she flashed at him every day. Today it was a short wool skirt with a small pleat over each leg, and hitting about six inches above her knee. Her blazer was long and loose; the thin sweater underneath loose as well. She had also decided to wear her four-inch heels; they usually killed her feet by the end of the day, but she needed all the height she could get today, especially if they… um… ‘went at it’ in a standing position… besides, she wasn’t planning on wearing her clothes for that long. She’d turned around in front of the mirror, looking at herself from the back, and had grinned. Easy access, she’d thought to herself, grinning again into the mirror at herself as she’d put the finishing touches to her face. Mulder hadn’t spent the night; that decision had been mutual – both of them had been wrung out from the marathon meetings which had taken place all day. But when she wore the little suit into the office that morning… his eyes had lit up, and he’d stepped up to her, behind her; his warm hands had slid up the backs of her legs and rested gently on the swell of her cheeks, and he’d murmured into her ear, “Mmmm… I like your outfit, Scully… very easy to reach…” And he’d pressed a soft kiss into the silk of her hair, and had moved away, to sit at his desk and boot up his computer. Scully swung around to her desk, thinking about what he’d whispered to her. Easy to reach… easy access. Friday morning… last chance. She’d absently picked up the morning paper; flipped through it – and that’s when the theater ad caught her eye…

They had been standing in line for about fifteen minutes, the crowd unmoving and getting boisterous… when Scully finally made her move.

Mulder was still behind her, his coat wrapped around her and his chin resting on her shoulder; he’d been watching the crowds, in full profile-mode. Scully could feel the movement of his chin whenever he saw something which amused him; knew when he smiled. She stifled a grin of her own -she was about to make him break into a grin that would cover his entire body. Keeping her eyes trained dead ahead of her, she brought one hand from the depths of her coat pocket, dropped it to her side and then very carefully and unobtrusively moved it behind her, easing it between their bodies until it rested against the front of Mulder’s pants… he still hadn’t felt her there, not yet… and she turned her palm to his fly and cupped him. Hard. His body jumped, and his hissing intake of air audible to her and maybe three other people standing close; but they never turned around. Scully cupped him and slowly rubbed her palm into him… and he sent an almost-inaudible gasp into her neck, and growled low into her ear.

“Scully, Jesus… what are you, crazy? Not that I don’t love it, but… we’re out in the middle of John Q. Public, y’know…” Scully never answered; she just stroked him a little faster; a little harder. Mulder’s eyes fluttered shut, and he broke out in a cold sweat; his arms tightened reflexively around her and he pushed into her hand. He moved his open mouth along her nape and up to her ear, hissing raggedly into it, “Scully, I’m warning you… I’m about five strokes gone already, and if you don’t stop, these poor, unsuspecting people standing all around us are going to get quite an eyeful…” punctuating his words with a nip to her ear, and then bathing the sore spot with his tongue. Scully shuddered, but her hand kept going; she turned her head the smallest little bit, just enough to catch his eyes, now gone almost black with need, and uttered one short, sweet little sentence into his shocked face.

“Slip me the wiener…”

“Oh, Christ…” Mulder swallowed convulsively; his arms like a vise around her; his breathing fast and shallow. Cheeks flushed, eyes glistening, panting a little… in the throes of MulderArousal. What a sight to see… better than any dumb old movie. Scully decided she was having a great time… without popcorn, either. She could feel her own excitement building, slow but sure. Her hand fumbled with his zipper, the other hand keeping his coat closed in front, around both of them; she managed to get the zipper down, enough to reach into the opening of his boxers, and wrap one small hand around him; they both moaned in unison, very softly. She slid her hand up and down his hard length, gently; teased the tip with one finger and took careful note of his labored breathing and almost-constant groans, played into her ear. “Scully… are you serious… you really want to do this… here?” He chanced a quick look through the crowd; so far nobody had noticed anything amiss… yet. He pressed harder into her hand, and bit her ear. “This was your directive, Scully? Sex and “Rocky Horror’? Which one of your little ‘Maids’ thought that one up?” Scully giggled breathlessly and eased off on the stroking; she could tell Mulder was very close to the end of his tether.

“It was sex in a crowd of movie-goers, or sports fanatics, Mulder – broad daylight. I chose the movie-going crowd, figuring they’d be less boisterous and more liable to ignore us…” She rubbed gentle fingers through the wiry hair surrounding his groin area; Mulder sighed against her neck, and moved his hips slowly in tandem with her hand. He moved his own hand down the front of his coat, still closed around her, parting it just enough to reach inside and caress her breast under the material of her blazer. Scully gasped, once; the feel of his hand on her, in public, was incredibly erotic even though they were fairly well-hidden from view. She was suddenly, unbearably aroused just from a couple of touches from him and her own stroking of his erection. She closed her eyes, picturing the way she knew he had to look, at this precise moment… she could see the tight muscles rippling in reaction to his body’s growing excitement; the glaze on his eyes; the shallow breathing and the fine film of sweat covering him. His hand was sliding around to the back of her skirt now; lifting it slowly and carefully, still managing to keep the coat closed around them. She felt cool air against her thighs, and heard his gasp at the same time she remembered that she…

“…not wearing any panties, holy shit, Scully… how long have you been planning this… never mind… who the fuck cares… c’mere…” And he pulled her hips even tighter against him, as she carefully slid what had to be one enormous boner, out of his boxers and into the snug space between their bodies, drawing in a hissing breath as she felt him, hot and hard on her sensitive skin. He placed a hand on her hip, holding her steady, and she struggled to keep his coat closed around them, as he adjusted himself with barely perceptible movements, until he found just the right angle… and slipped inside. They both groaned softly, at the intensity of it all, there in bright daylight surrounded by a hundred or more people, who paid them absolutely no mind at all… unbelievable. For just a few seconds, neither moved; too overwhelmed by the knowledge they were actually doing this in public; that it was really happening… then Mulder gave one convulsive push, at the same time as his hand pressed down onto her center, covered by a layer of skirt and a silk slip… and all Scully could do was stare straight ahead of her and try to look as if this kind of thing happened to her every day; that it was perfectly normal for a tall, darkly handsome man in a black trenchcoat to be planking her from behind in a crowd of costumed ‘Rocky Horror’ fans waiting for the box office to open…Yessir, happens every day. She could feel herself growing wetter and wetter, helping to ease the way for him, as he moved against her and inside her. He dropped his face into the crook of her neck, open mouth blowing little gusts of hot breath into her skin; strong arms supported her with no effort at all; both hands on her hips now, under the coat; pinning her in place as his thrusts took him deeper. To the outward observer, they were still moving very little in that tightly-packed space; looking for all the world as if they were just swaying gently to silent music.

God, she was so close… so close. Mulder’s fingers were moving on her now, pressing down and releasing in a rhythmic dance which had her nearly crazed with need… she found herself picturing in her mind how this particular rumba would look: The length of him, silky smooth and tight, hard as granite and beautiful to see; buried deep within. The flexing buttocks, small and firm and narrow, clenching in time with the beating of his heart, there in the strong wall of his chest… the feel of him inside her, stroking her so sweetly; the need for him, always the need… the love… God. Love… she loved him. In love with Mulder, not just in lust anymore, but in love. Not just the knowledge that she loved him, for all he’d been to her over the last seven years, but… soul-to-heart love. She closed her eyes, head falling back against his shoulder as the first tremors of her release stole over her, and the shudders began, deep inside where it was hot and melting… radiating outward in a long spiral which forced one sobbing gasp from her raw throat, before she regained the presence of mind to keep her mouth shut against future outbursts…

And Mulder, feeling her body pulling at him, knowing she’d gotten there… drew on an almost inhuman degree of strength and willpower… and slowly, carefully withdrew from her; subtle movements of his hand re-adjusting his clothing and getting himself covered decently again. Scully had protested breathlessly at the feel of him leaving her, and he moaned into her ear, “Scully, think about it… I can’t come here… what a mess it would be… Jeez, you know how much I… well, you know…!” His face was flaming, and she turned just in time to see his red cheeks, and laughed gently at him.

“Yes, I know Mulder… you’re usually good for a solid four ounces…” His strangled laugh rippled through her, as she hastily rearranged her clothing and turned to face him, staying wrapped in the coat. She stood on tiptoes, and kissed him, softly, mouth open and wetly warm against his lips. She breathed into his mouth as she kissed him, whispering, “Mulder, that was incredible… but I don’t like to see you deprived…” He smiled against her mouth, and held her tightly.

“Who says I was deprived, Scully? Every sexual escapade of ours doesn’t have to end with me shooting my wad, you know… I get so much out of your pleasure, I really do. Anyhow, I got plans for later, ‘Nun-Girl’…” He grinned at the look of shock on her face as he used the nickname that only one ‘Maid’ had ever called her – how in hell did he know? She’d unconsciously spoken aloud, and he chuckled as he replied, “Well, Scully… I guess I kind of spoke to one of your roommates this week… the one who wrote your directive…” he trailed off at the thunderous look on her face; he ducked his head, unable to maintain eye contact, and she wound a fist through his hair and tugged, hard.

“Mulder, do you mean to say that you spoke to Carrie, and that you… she… God! I don’t believe this… she told you, didn’t she!! She told you what I had to do…” She couldn’t go on; she was too mortified. She was gonna kill Carrie… after she wiped the floor with Mulder, first. She still gripped his hair; one extra tug pulled his head closer, eyes wide with paranoid worry, as he found himself nose to nose with one hopping mad partner… whose face slowly lost its angry edge, and softened into a small, resigned smile as she took in the look of contrition on his beautiful face, and the pleading, hazel eyes; she slowly released his hair, rubbing soothing fingers through his mangled scalp. He sighed in relief and kissed her again.

“Scully… I’m sorry… didn’t mean to trick you, honestly! I never thought you’d really do it, you know – when it got to be so late in the week, and you hadn’t made any bizarre moves on me… I figured you’d rather pay out the bucks, instead of revealing so much of yourself to the world like this…” His low rumble of apology was cut short by the high, nasally voice right next to where they stood.

“Speaking of revealing, dearie… better zip up those knickers the rest of the way, before your ‘wiener’ decides to join its ‘bun’ again…” Twin gasps, as they both turned toward the voice; an elderly woman, perhaps mid-to-late sixties; white hair in a bun; she’d obviously been waiting all this time, to see the movie… she’d obviously seen the pre-show, out in the throng… Oh, shit. Mulder and Scully must have been wearing identical expressions of absolute panic on their faces, because the woman laughed and patted Mulder’s hand where it rested on Scully’s hip. She leaned in close and whispered confidentially to both of them.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, children… I doubt anyone saw anything. And if they had, well… so what? It was very sweet, and brought back some wonderful memories for me… and I thank you. And now, having said that… I think I’ll head home. I have the oddest craving for a cigarette…” And she turned and blended back into the crowd. Mulder emitted a snort of laughter, shoulders shaking; Scully shuddered and glanced around, wondering if anyone else had seen anything. She breathed a sigh of relief when it appeared that no one else appeared to be gawking at them in offended disgust… looked like no one had seen. She looked up at Mulder; he had stopped laughing and was staring down at her with eyes brimming with emotion, for her… and she felt absurdly happy. She slipped out of his embrace and tugged at his hand.

“Mulder, come home with me? I’ll let you have the whole bun, this time… as a matter of fact I’ll let you have pretty damn near anything you want…” And Mulder let himself be led through the sea of bodies, body already responding with the force of her words… the whole bun… Mmmmm.

They had almost made it to the edge of the throng, when a girl with pink dye in her hair and a nail pierced through her nose, called out, “Way to go, Red! Pop him in full view! Hey, Handsome… nice kielbasa!” The boy standing next to her also grinned, and gave them the ‘thumbs up’ with both hands…

Oh, hell…



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