Final Thoughts by Branwell and bugs
SPOILER WARNING: "Never Again"
RATING: NC-17 for explicit sex and language
CLASSIFICATION: H, MSRSUMMARY: What kind of a crisis can an e-mail
slip-up precipitate?DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter, David Duchovny, Gillian
Anderson, and Ten Thirteen productions created and
own the characters you recognize. Our writing is
for fun, not profit.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS: Thanks to the incomparable "Deep
Background," created by Pellinor, now managed by
Brynna and Jenna. Thanks to Tiny Dancer's
wonderful script site. And thanks to the folks at
http://www.finalthoughts.com/, who boldly carried
the standard for American business into the
future. It's inspirational.AUTHOR'S NOTES: Dedicated to anyone who has
regretted sending an email, whether it be public
when meant to be private, saying too much, saying
it the wrong way, or showing inner insanity with
all too much clarity. Which would be all of us.
Saturday, 3:35 PM, Mulder's apartment
"FinalThoughts.com is an innovative membership-
based website that combines estate planning and
end-of-life issues in a unique and creative way.
Through our revolutionary, FREE email service,
FinalThoughts.com allows you to share your final
wishes and personal feelings with your loved ones,
after you have passed away. Our unique email
service puts YOU in control and assures that your
personal objectives are communicated to your
family and friends when the time is right."When he'd finished reading the statement for the
fourth time that afternoon, Mulder pushed himself
back from the computer keyboard with a sigh of
satisfaction, rubbing his tee shirt around his
belly in an absent-minded gesture.He was glad he'd found this website today. He'd
planned on trusting the Gunmen to send an
important letter for him, but the more he thought
about it, the less he trusted them not to read it.
And that wouldn't do at all.Instead, he'd set up an account with
FinalThoughts.com, and had just sent over his
'final thoughts' for Scully.
He'd been working on it for years. Every now and
then, he liked to pull up this special document.
Someday it might be the only way left to express
himself to Scully. He added to it occasionally,
never changing the original passion in the words.
Last weekend, he'd included a bit about her
turtleneck.But he wouldn't send it himself. It was always
carefully saved, waiting for the fateful day when
it might need to be sent. Sometimes, after a
particularly difficult day in her presence,
looking over this document was the only thing that
kept him sane.As he pushed his chair back and rose, he paused.
He had changed the addressee, right? He felt that
familiar compulsion to check and make sure he
hadn't accidentally sent it to Scully.Out loud in the empty room, he said, "Dammit,
Mulder, don't. You worry every time you send a
possibly embarrassing document. Stop being such a
wuss!"Nodding to himself, reassured, he strode towards
the kitchen to get a glass of water before lying
down to take a nap.* * *
Scully's apartment; 3:40 PMScully sank down into her desk chair with a sigh.
Up since 7 A.M., she'd cleaned the apartment from
top to bottom; now she'd take some personal time.
After Windows finished loading, she waited
patiently for her email to download, turning her
chair slightly to watch a robin on a branch
outside her window. Thank God spring was finally
here. No more damp pumps to be sponged dry when
she just wanted to go to bed.Swiveling back, she scanned the list of subject
headings and sendees. Mulder. What did he want?**Last Will and Testament of Fox Mulder.**
Her brow furrowed. What sort of ridiculous joke
was he pulling now? She clicked it open, feeling
the sickeningly familiar sense of dread when she
had the least bit of worry over him.**If you're reading this, I'm dead. I know that
will be hurting you-- more than anything I've ever
done to you.**Her hands were fumbling for her phone receiver
while she read and re-read those lines. Thank God
for speed dial. She listened, frantic fear
rising, as his phone rang, once, twice, three
times...His muffled, sleepy voice. "Mulder."
She hung up. That son-of-a-bitch thought he could
pull some joke on her! She read on--**First, I want you to know I would never hurt you
on purpose and hate the thought I'm hurting you
now. You've stuck by me through all these crazy
years. Anyone less loyal would have gotten the
hell out. So I'm afraid you may stick by me even
in death.I don't want that. I was selfish while I was
alive and held you close, but now I want you to be
happy. I want to know you're laughing and
smiling. That you're free.I know you too well, Scully. You're honorable.
And that gave me the solution. I'll show you how
dishonorable I can be. I'm going to do something
that will let you walk away from my memory without
a backwards glance. I'm going to make you hate
me.I'm going to disgust and revolt you. You won't be
able to look at my picture without getting ill.
I'm going to tell you a few things.Sure, I loved you. You knew that. I would have
liked to make love to you, that would have been
nice, but mostly--**He really did love her? She pushed a tingle away.
The words had slipped from his mouth on a drug-
induced cloud. At the time, she'd refused to give
them weight.He wanted to make love to her? The tingle became
a warm glow. His next words were below the
screen. She needed to scroll. Frantically, her
hand patted for the mouse, her eyes never leaving
his words.**mostly I wanted to fuck you.**
Oh. Fuck. He wanted to fuck her. She could see
her reflection in her monitor's screen. Her mouth
was a perfect, round 'O,' matching the circles of
her eyes.**I wanted to fuck you on a stakeout with our
suspect fleeing in the background and knock those
high heels of yours right off, shagging you in the
front seat of the Taurus.I've allowed my hand to linger too long on your
shoulder, until the perspiration soaked through
the silk and left my mark.I've lingered behind you while reading a report,
but really--really--I've been staring down into
the valley of your cleavage, dreaming about my
tongue tracing its own course of exploration.**Scully found herself pulling the edges of her
sweater together up under her throat as she read
on.
**I've caught you when you stumbled, and taken a
moment to measure your incredible ass with my
palms, marveling at the perfect fit.I've inhaled the scent of your hair so many times
I can tell you the chemical composition of your
shampoo.I've pressed my ear to our shared bathroom walls
in motels and listened to your shower, visualizing
your naked body under the spray, and jacked off.**Her skin felt flushed and warm as though she was
in a hot shower, enjoying the pleasant roughness
of her loofa. Mulder was on the other side of the
wall, his hand gripping his cock, moaning her
name. She shook her head, once, violently, and
returned to the text.**If for some insane reason, you're still reading,
Scully, now I'm going to turn your stomach.**Suddenly anxious, her stomach twisted obligingly
into a complex, Girl-Scout-badge-earning, sailor's
knot.**Remember when I went on vacation and you went to
Philadelphia? You were supposed to follow me.
You were supposed to look up as I was whining and
say, "Oh, Mulder, let me cash in my frequent flier
miles and come with you." I'd sensed something in
you, Scully, something unsettled, growing. I
thought it was sexual need. Little did we know it
was something else entirely, eh?As usual, Lucky-With-Ladies Mulder read it *all*
wrong. **His account had riveted her with its skewed
perspective on their whole history. Now her warm
skin turned instantly cold and she was furious.
While she was bleeding her life away, he was
bemoaning his anemic sex life. Of course at the
time he hadn't known. Still . . .** You were supposed to read between the lines.
That call to your hotel, that was your second
chance. You were supposed to jump on the plane
and join me in Memphis. **She began huffing her breath like a laboring steam
engine. Second chance! Fat chance.** I had plans, Scully. Boy, did I have plans. We
would break into Graceland at night, just you and
me.And you'd be trying to talk me out of it, but
you'd secretly be excited. We'd wear black. I
love you in a black turtleneck, Scully.It makes me want to slip under it like a shadow
and be trapped there in the dark, just me and your
breasts. Of course, I've never told you, but I
need to take this opportunity to say, I love your
breasts. **What incredible nerve. After the way he'd jeered
at the idea someone might want to date her. She
was glad she'd hooked up with Ed. Even if things
hadn't turned out quite the way she'd planned.She should tell him all about Ed Jerse. Mulder
had been curious enough at the time. Weeks passed
before he gave up trying to goad a revealing
reaction out of her.He couldn't seem to restrain his sarcasm and sulks
after their encounter at the hospital.She'd already been dressed when he got to her
room. Anxiety, hurt, fury, and relief chased each
other across his features as he confronted her.If she broke down he'd comfort her, and feel sorry
for her. She knew she appeared ridiculous to
everyone, but people would forget. If she
accepted Mulder's pity, she'd never regain her
dignity in her own eyes."Who was he, Scully? Why?" he blurted, scanning
her face for his answer."Well, did an atheist find grace at Graceland?"
she tried to divert him."More than I'd expect to find in some stranger's
bed," he shot back."I'm sure you've read my report," she replied with
a stony stare. "I have nothing to add." Turning
her back on Mulder, she led the way out of the
room. The look she fired at the volunteer with
the wheelchair sent him back to the nursing
station to request a less dangerous task.Unfortunately Mulder had more persistence.
"How about a spider to keep your worm company?
Wayne's Tattoos is having a special on black
widows," he taunted her one morning as she came
into the office. Then he looked back at the
newspaper in mock surprise. "Oops. Not for you.
They only accept sober customers."She'd been a wall of ice against his barrage of
insinuations. Excuses and explanations were an
admission of weakness. Weakness had no place in
the grueling marathon she called a life.So he feared that after his death she'd waste her
life mourning him. It was true her night with Ed
hadn't gone the way she planned. If she told
Mulder how it SHOULD have gone he'd know exactly
what Scully saw in Ed. Then he could rest in
peaceful assurance that she wouldn't immolate
herself on his funeral pyre.She clicked on the "Reply" button.
Her words appeared among his on the screen, as
though typed by someone else. Someone who would
teach Mulder a thing or two about imagination.> >>Ed was a man who lived in the shadows. He
wouldn't just fantasize about taking a chance with
me. I knew as soon as I met him in that tattoo
parlor. He understood that our actions define us,
not our beliefs. But I was cautious at first. I
told him no. Until you called that night, to nag,
and second-guess me.> >>She ran into his next words and stopped to read,
her righteousness bubbling like a boiling
cauldron.** I'd take you into the Jungle Room and turn the
fountain on, with the water running down the wall
and just the green light glowing--you look great
in green light, Scully. And I'd sit in the Zebra
chair with my pants unzipped, ready for you--
Remember how you wanted a pony, Scully? Well, you
would have come for a ride on my red pony, I know
you would have ridden me long and hard. The chair
was big enough for both of us, Scully. **Her fingers flew from the mouse to the keyboard to
rebut him.> >>So you were thinking about the Jungle Room.
On the phone you sounded like Bill--or my father.
I didn't want a father that night. > >>** I stood in the Jungle Room and just stared at
that chair, upholstered in zebra hide, with a
carved wood frame for you to grab as leverage. I
could see your perfect little white ass bobbing up
and on me. And I'd be knocked out. Just sitting
back and enjoying the show. **> >>When you sneered at me that night, Mulder, I
remembered Ed's dark eyes. Simple. Dangerous as
a stallion's. He wanted me. Yes, someone
actually did. And he let it show. He didn't
expect me to read his mind and then scurry after
him like an eager puppy. So I let him know I
might be interested. He was thrilled. Thrilled!
A nice change from someone who doesn't notice I'm
there until I'm not.When I got to Ed's place he answered the door with
his shirt only half on. It was like he could read
MY mind. I didn't want to waste time going to
some pretentious, upscale restaurant. I told him
to take me to that bar.> >>** After that, we'd creep up the stairs to the
bedrooms. No one's allowed up there, Scully, but
you'd go with me.We go through the doors into the King's bedroom.
It's all bed, a pond of crushed velvet. Still
pink and warm, you drop and loll across that soft
red spread so that I can only stand back and
admire you.I'm not going to go crazy here, Scully, and
pretend I'm the man I used to be. It'll be a
while before I can be inside you again, but just
staring down at you now, seeing that dirty little
grin sneak across your flushed face...I want to
believe my erectile function will return
immediately. **> >>It was low down, Mulder. Just what I wanted
that night. The walls, ceiling and floor all
painted flat black. Everyone suspended in
darkness and alcohol. It was so dark you could
almost hide from yourself.A few women, hard-eyed and listless, hovered
around the single men like crows around road-kill.
There were drinks to be hustled. I was a novelty.
I felt alive and powerful and sexy.When I walked past the little, mirrored stage in
the corner I felt the eyes of every man in the
place on me. It was impossible not to respond. I
rolled my hips and pulled my shoulders back.
Relaxed my neck and let my head tip back a little.Ed saw what was going on. He put his hand on my
lower back to guide me while we walked through
that dark room. I knew he was really showing his
ownership-- marking his territory.I told Ed how I needed to rebel sometimes against
good-girl expectations. That the men in my life
always end up as authority figures, like my
father. Ed didn't laugh at me. He ordered me
another drink. I licked my lips plenty, and ran
my tongue around the rim of the glass for him.> >>There. Let Mulder picture that when he
appropriated her image for use in his bizarre
fantasies.Panting, she leaned back in her chair to read some
more. She'd always known the man was obsessed.
How much more drivel could he write about the
King's see-it-all-from-the-road home?**But we can do other things, Scully. I have so
many things I want to do and we only have so many
hours before the tours begin again."Scully, did you know that Elvis' favorite food
was banana and peanut butter sandwiches?" I ask,
breathless. You quirk that eyebrow at me."No, Mulder, I didn't," you say as you flop over
on your belly, blatantly exposing that fantastic
ass to me again."I've always wanted to try one," I whisper as I
crawl onto the bed beside you.Tossing your head and rolling onto your side, your
nose wrinkles in mock disgust. "Ewww."I can't resist. I gently grasp a nipple in my
teeth and give it a tug until you gasp. I mumble,
"Don't worry, I'll be the one doing the eating."The King kept a refrigerator stocked next to the
bed. How handy. Peanut butter and fresh bananas,
nice and firm."Mulder," you warn. I love it when you go all
schoolteacher on me. It sends me back to many a
teenage woodie under my desk.As I scoot down towards your hips, I say, "I think
it will be delicious.""Uh--" is all you can get out before I start
nibbling on your soft, peach-skin belly.I decide things will be easier on the floor.
Sliding down onto my knees, sinking into the dark
shag carpet, I split open the banana peel.You begin to sound almost frightened. "Mulder?"
"Don't worry, honey. I know what I'm doing," I
coo.You gasp in surprise when my fingers begin to
gently probe at your opening. You're still soft
and moist from our encounter in the Jungle Room.
But I want more, I want you dripping.I spend some time licking and biting at your
white, white thighs, all the while, stroking your
inner walls, encouraging the flow. Your fingers
run around and around my scalp, until my hair
looks like it's been through a blender. The entire
time, I get to hear my name said a way I've never
heard before. Low. Throbbing. Needy. "Mulder,
Mulder, Mulder..."Glancing up above the bed, I can see you've been
watching our activities in a bank of darkened
televisions set into the ceiling. Your eyes are
half-closed with anticipation and your tongue
frantically licks at your lips. I have to look
away before the sight pushes me over the edge too
soon.When I decide you're ready, I pull my two fingers
out and slowly push the banana part way in. The
surprise again, a gurgle this time. "Mulder?""Hmmm?" I've started to lick around the banana,
warming your lips with my saliva."Nothing. Uh...just...be careful," you moan.
"Always," I murmur against your clit, feeling it
swell under my tongue.I'm opening the jar of peanut butter, scooping
some on my fingers. I warn you, "It's still cold
from the 'fridge.'""Huh?" and then, "OH!" as I begin to spread the
cream over your lips, sliding through the folds
and your slit, rubbing it all over your clit."I'll warm it up," I say just before I sink back
down to my task.Like all my bright ideas, this one sounded better
on paper. The banana is bobbing frantically from
the jerking of your hips and contracting muscles.
I'm forced to take bites, then a lick of peanut
butter.Ahhh...this was what I had in mind. Delicious.
Fine dining accompanied by mood music, your moans
from above my head.The peanut butter gives just enough friction to
make my tongue stick and then drag at your flesh
and you seem to really enjoy that. I mash some of
the banana into the mix and get quite a yummy
flavor going. Sweet, salt and you."Wanna taste?" I ask.
You've changed your mind on Elvis' dining choices.
"Sure," you gasp out.I collect some of the mixture on my fingers and
hold them up to your mouth, pausing a moment to
take in the show. You suck my fingers clean and I
can begin to feel blood pooling in my cock again.I have to get back to work. The peanut butter has
melted in your heat and your plump folds are
glistening with the oil. The banana, a stub still
captured in your opening, is soft and dark with
your flow. I have to be careful...I settle back down on my knees and gently grasp
your slippery clit in my fingers, beginning to
squeeze it. I put my lips around the banana and
suck.Your legs, draped over my shoulders, go tense, and
your feet beat at my back. Your moans are now
shouts. "Mulder!"The banana is coming, soft and sweet with your
taste. I happily munch, taking liberal swipes
with my tongue and lips on your folds, never
forgetting to continue to rub your clit.Just in time, I get all of the fruit and slip my
fingers in to stroke furiously at your G-spot as
your walls contract around them.Every part of your body but your vagina has gone
limp. It is as strong as a heart, pulsing around
my fingers as you moan and moan. Delicious.Your hand is still rubbing my head, but now the
wrist is loose and you're humming like a well-
tuned engine.Your legs slide off my shoulders and I have to lay
my head on the bed to quiet my raging breathing.
My hard-on has returned, full and insistent. I
have to find something to occupy my time while you
come down.I stagger into the bathroom and get a washcloth
wet with warm water. Returning, I bend to my new
task, cleaning you up."Thank you, Mulder," you mumble.
"Anytime." I'm not lying. If I could have spent
every day touching this place on you, this place
you've always kept hidden from me, my life would
have been complete.**Scully swallowed and shifted uneasily in her
chair. She needed to stop reading. Now. And
reply. Yes, she was replying. Showing him. Yep.How was she going to compete with a brain warped
by thousands of hours of porno movies? Her
fingers remained still over the keyboard while she
tried to remember what she enjoyed about that
night with Ed. She wore a tiny smile when she
started typing again. This wasn't a report. The
facts didn't have to ruin a good story.> >>There was a big bearded guy in leather and
chains sitting across the bar. He watched me when
I took off my jacket and undid the top buttons on
my blouse. The cooler air made my nipples stand
out like two little marbles. Leather-and-Chains
smiled and I smiled back.You would have looked pained and said something
sarcastic to me. Ed turned around and smiled his
own message at the guy. After that Leather-and-
Chains didn't look up from the logo on his beer
can. He stared at it and rubbed it with his
thumbs until he left.They had stuffy heat pouring into that bar. Ed
took his jacket off too. His shirt was white with
long sleeves. He rolled the sleeves up almost to
his elbows.Do you know how sexy that is? Those long muscles
hard against the bone. There was just enough
silky hair to look masculine. How would they
feel, I wondered, weighing down the mattress on
each side of me? I'd anchor myself on them to
brace my body against his thrusts. I rested my
hand casually on his bare skin. It was as smooth
and firm as I imagined it. He pretended not to
notice. I saw how he kept looking at me from the
corners of his eyes.I tried to take charge, ordering him around as Dr.
Scully, pushing him to show me his tattoo. He
grabbed me and held me still. It made me realize
how big his hands were, how long and strong his
fingers were around my wrists. I'd already
noticed the size of his feet. Do you know what
women say about men with big feet, Mulder? Be
patient and keep reading. I'll tell you if it was
true about Ed.Ed said "Get a tattoo of your own!" It was a dare
and I can never resist a dare. You know that.
When we walked out, a woman in an overstuffed,
spangled bikini was humping the pole on that
miserable little stage. The men watched me.Why did I choose the Ouroborus tattoo? A
pentagram would have been more daring. Maybe the
self-sufficiency of the dragon devouring its own
tail appealed to the liberated woman in me. Or
maybe I was just feeling oral.I think tattoos could be addictive. It hurts like
a long, ferocious love bite. You're not sure if
you want it to stop. While that cold needle bit
into my skin I looked into Ed's black, dangerous
eyes. The sharpness raced through my nerves,
putting me on edge, making me think of a fast,
hard, fuck.During the walk back to Ed's we stumbled against
each other, skidding along the snowy sidewalks. I
sneaked a handful of snow from the top of a car
and pretended to reach up and straighten his coat
collar. When I shoved the snow down his back I
thought he was going to hit me. Then he laughed
and pinned me against the car with his legs while
he scooped up snow with both hands and dumped it
down over me."Do you want me to brush you off?" he asked.
There was a snow-filled gap between our upper
bodies. Below it I could feel Ed's thighs
pressing hard against my hips through all the
layers of clothes. I smiled at him just like the
man in the bar. Ed took his time brushing the
snow off my shoulders, breasts and waist. When he
was done he looked pleased at what he felt under
my coat.I should have been shivering in my soggy clothes
and wet shoes. Instead my skin burned against the
chill.That night the laws of the universe were
suspended. The cold made me hot. I was off-duty.
I'd lost control. And I liked it.> >>There. That would give Mulder something to ponder.
He was still going on about Elvis' bedroom.Mulder's style was so . . . carnal. Scully
remembered how Sister Marie Martin used to drop
her voice to a whisper and pop her eyes when she
warned the class that rock and roll music could
lead to "carnal sins." It had been twenty years
since the King had gyrated his pelvis just out of
camera range on the "Ed Sullivan Show." Sister
hadn't gotten over it yet.Scully was beginning to think her old teacher had
the right idea about Elvis. No wonder he
fascinated her lecherous partner. Now "Ain't
Nothing But a Hound Dog" would always make her
feel hot. And flustered. Not to mention the fact
that she could never eat a banana for lunch at the
office again.If she read further there was no telling what
other innocent elements of everyday life might
light an erotic fuse in her brain.** Finished cleaning you up, I turn my attention
to the rest of the room. It's more than a huge
bed and Naugahyde walls. There are TVs. Lots of
TVs. Four on the ceiling alone.And closed-circuit cameras. I flip them on. The
TVs come alive.Sleepy, your voice drifts to me. "Mulder? Found
a new toy?""Oh, yeah," I say.
"Mulder--"
I turn, expecting you to be giving me that stern,
forget it, bud, expression.You're up on your knees, legs spread slightly.
Your hands run through your mussed hair, pushing
the red waves into a mass of curls. Your breasts
are swollen, the areolas huge, round and red-hot.
Your skin's flushed, but it's the dark, wet,
tangle of hair between your legs that keeps
drawing my eyes. My own Anne Margaret sex kitten."Huh?" is all I can gurgle out.
"Get over here," you purr.
I stumble to the bed, and begin to crawl towards
you on my hands and knees like a dying man in the
desert approaching an oasis.Just as I get to you, you get down on your hands
and knees too."Lie down," you order. Like a good dog, I do.
I can see everything in the screens above. That
ass twitching as you scoot towards me. That soft
bramble of hair brushing against my thighs,
approaching my trembling cock. I reach for
it...your hands grab mine, pinning them down as
you slip your mouth over the purple head.A nice side angle to see your cheeks hollow as you
carefully suckle all of my length you can take in.
Watch your hand snake between my thighs and stroke
at my hard balls.You let my cock drop out of your mouth and
command, "Knees up."A little too Doctor Scully and not enough Nurse
Nancy for me, but I comply.OH! OH! That's what you wanted to do! Fingers,
gentle but persistent, find all sorts of places to
probe and stroke."Scully!" I wail. "Stop!"
You do, instantly. The room screeches to a halt
from the wild, spinning, carnival ride it had
been.Now it's my turn to order you around. My voice,
thick and rusty sounding, orders, "Get up on your
knees again."Somehow, I get up on my own shaking limbs. My
fingers, tuned like a radar device, find your wet
opening, spreading your folds for my cock.I shove in, perhaps a bit too rough. You don't
seem to mind and grind back on me. Our eyes meet
on the bank of screens in front of us.I can watch your breasts sway with our thrusts and
counter-thrusts. Your mouth goes slack and your
eyes moisten. Your neck arches, followed by your
spine, pressing down on my swollen cock.It's all happening too fast. I want this to last
forever. This is our one night.I rock back onto my heels, pulling you with me.
You straddle my thighs, using your own strong
thighs and calves to lift and drop your weight up
and down on my cock.Your torso is long and lean as you lift your hair
from your hot neck. "Mulder," you moan."Yeah," I have to agree.
I capture your breasts, stopping their motion,
compressing their size with my palms, watching the
white flesh burst out around my dark fingers."Scully," I mumble.
You pull your lower lip into your mouth, suckling
at it madly. Your hand creeps down to find your
clit, riding above our joining."Yeah," you reply.
Fascinated, I watch your fingers work your swollen
clit. You know your body.My nose dives into your hair and I think I've
found the most perfect odor in the world: its
clean aroma, mixed with our musky scent.I settle my mouth on the nape of your neck and try
to catch the rhythm of your strokes with my bites.
Your walls tighten around my cock and I think I've
found it.I'm so close. My head begins to rock in
frustration, my grip on your flesh tightening."Oh, God," you groan, and I can sense your
frustration too.Roughly, I push your hand aside and start my own
assault on your clit, my fingers a blur on the
grainy screen. Your eyes, wide and all pupil,
watch with amazement.You're gasping and clutching at my arms,
scratching them 'til they bleed with your frenzy.
"Mulder!"I can't take it anymore. I shove us back over on
our knees, and start pounding into you. At last!
I can get a deep thrust and keep working at your
clit.You howl, Scully, you actually howl, and I have to
answer your call. Your walls are pulling at my
cock so hard I'm afraid I'm going to be sucked
inside of you by the vacuum. It pulls everything
out of me. All my sweat, all my blood, all my
semen. I give it all to you in one huge flood. **Scully made a conscious effort to slow her
breathing. Mulder's imagination didn't fail him
when it came to erotic inspiration. She wondered
if his practice approached his theory...Shaking her head to clear her buzzing mind, she
reminded herself that he intended to repulse and
disgust her with his narrative. Scully grimaced
and went back to typing. She had to make that
presumptuous jerk understand that she'd always
have Philadelphia.> >> Ed took my hand and almost pulled me along.
We walked much faster, anxious to get to his
apartment now that everything was settled.> >>At least she'd thought it was settled. When they
arrived Ed had lost the dangerous edge that fed
her own excitement. "Hey, I'm not up to anything.
I just want you to be safe. I'll take the couch,"
he said. Why did he have to start talking about
it? Words built barriers, defined boundaries, set
actions in concrete. She felt her own wildness
dwindle further while they discussed her tattoo.This time Ed co-operated like a good patient when
she offered to check on the renewed bleeding from
his tattoo. Then, before she could remove the
bandage, he reacted unexpectedly.He grabbed her hands and brought his face close to
hers. Her body responded instantly, her lips
opening to allow a kiss before they made contact.
His tongue invaded her mouth without hesitation.
At first the hot, wet kisses worked just as she'd
hoped. Melting into receptiveness in his grip,
she didn't resist his movement toward the bedroom.There she took the initiative and reached for his
zipper. Everything came to a halt. He dropped
her hands and rubbed at his bandaged arm with his
knuckles. "This isn't what I promised you," he
said lightly. "It's not fair to go ahead with
this when you've been drinking. We'll see how you
feel in the morning." He cupped the bandage
protectively as he backed out of the room.She'd been stunned. Now he was going to be a
gentleman?Melissa had instructed her cynically on this topic
before her senior prom. "It's like a hazing
ritual. They'll say anything, do anything, to
score tonight. Don't be a fool.""Marcus is always a perfect gentleman," she
replied with a repressive look."A gentleman is a man without a hard-on, Dana.
There are no nineteen-year-old gentlemen," Melissa
responded with a shake of her head.Scully wished she'd had the nerve to grab Ed's
crotch in a simple experiment designed to test
Melissa's hypothesis. Instead she'd closed the
bedroom door and removed her damp clothes. The
least Ed owed her was something dry to sleep in.
She helped herself to a shirt from his closet.
When she crawled under the covers her head already
pounded with the beginning of a miserable
hangover.The next morning her descent into the hell of
public humiliation accelerated.This story needed a positive spin.
> >>When we got to Ed's apartment he hung our wet
coats in the kitchen. Then he showed me to the
bathroom."It's out-dated, but the towels are clean," he
joked. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll get us
drinks.""I don't need any more drinks. Do you?" I asked
him. I looked him in the eye and stuck my tongue
out at him. He watched my mouth and reached into
his pocket. But when he took his hand out there
was nothing in it.By the time I came back to the living room he had
his shoes and socks off, and his shirt unbuttoned.
Ed knew what I needed.He lay down on the couch and pulled me on top of
him. I tried to prop myself up, but my hands
slipped on the dark leather underneath. When I
flopped down I felt him buck up against me as
though he had no control at all. He stared right
at me and rubbed himself against my crotch. I
forgot why I was here and who was supposed to be
outraged because it felt so good."You're damp and chilly, Dana. Let's get those
clothes off," he told me.The room shivered out of focus. I felt nothing
but Ed's body and clever fingers. I used his
shoulders to brace myself, arching my back like a
cat intoxicated with petting. He unbuttoned my
blouse and we slipped it off, one arm at a time.
My bra was off seconds later, and his eyes went
wide at the sight."Do you know how much I've wanted you since I
first saw you?" he asked. He made a circle with
each palm from the top of my breasts to the
bottom, until he lifted one in each hand. Then he
blew out a breath of air, as though he'd reached
sanctuary after a narrow escape."I hate to let go of you, but these trousers are
uncomfortable," he grinned at me. "If you let me
up I can take care of that."I stood up and took off my skirt and pantyhose
while he took off the rest of his clothes. We
folded our things and laid them on a chair."Shall we go to the bedroom?" he asked, pulling me
close, our cool, naked bodies warming to each
other. His erection pushed hot against my
stomach, making me warm and liquid inside."No. No, I've always wanted to make love on this
couch," I told him.This time he moved a pillow to the end and
gestured for me to lie down first. You came down
on top of me like a curtain of darkness. It was
the world before there was light. I was submerged
in warmth and pressure.At first I thought I didn't need anything more.
It was enough to be under you, hearing your
suddenly ragged breathing, feeling your response
to me in every inch of my skin sliding against
yours.I'd often wondered how that brushy hair would feel
against my bare skin. It was like soft feathers,
and smelled familiar, but different too. I buried
my face in it and absorbed the fragrance of your
body while you nuzzled my breasts.I felt cold and exposed when you rolled off me to
reach for the light on the end table."Most men would be turning the light down about
now." I laughed a little to show I wasn't
nervous."I want to see you here on my couch so I'll know
it's real. So I can think about us later. So I
can picture the next time we'll be together," you
said.I held up my arms, expecting to reclaim your body
as my shelter. Instead you knelt beside me and
started touching me everywhere. You stroked my
hair and molded your hands to my skull, as though
you were cradling something fragile. Your fingers
smoothed my features with the gentlest of touches.
Your glance and touch moved lower. I was anxious.
Women younger and less scarred than I cringe from
critical eyes on their naked imperfections.I know where I fall short. Shortness-the world
judges that flaw everyday. Under my clothes I
hide more. Breasts too small, hips too big,
freckles that wax and wane with the seasons,
stretch marks with no baby to show for them. Scar
tissue on my stomach that still shows pink and
puckered. White streaks of old healing scattered
across my shins, knees, arms, and back.What did you see?
Something that lit your face with happiness. Your
eyes darkened, the pupils dilated hugely. Your
hands loved me with caresses that started like
ripples in a pond and ended like the surging tide.I forgot to be self-conscious.
I admit I'd imagined it in the past--your hands
running the length of my body. Long, slow sweeps
up and down my torso, ending in the delicate
tracing of my nipples.It was shocking, the sudden reality of those past
fantasies. I'd made do for so long with so
little. A careful hug. Your palm against my
cheek or a quick clasping of hands. A flash of
animal awareness in your eyes. How you'd laugh, I
once thought, if you knew the fiery effect of
those touches. Now I'm overloaded with the
sensations, scared at feeling so much.When your hands lowered to my shoulders they began
squeezing and pressing. I tensed and relaxed with
your movements. I couldn't help giving little
groans as you moved down my arms. The
anticipation was almost more than I could bear.
You finally touched my breasts with the lightest
of grazes."See how they like me!" you said with a silly
grin, brushing your palms back and forth across
the flushed peaks.I arched up against you to ask without words for
more. Your mouth came down willingly on my right
breast and my insides tightened until it almost
hurt.Before you'd been slow and deliberate. Now you
seemed to lose your detachment. Your mouth opened
wide and your tongue came out to bathe my whole
breast in long, frantic strokes.I reached out awkwardly and got one arm around
you, trying to bring you even closer. Leaning so
far over me put you off balance. You had to brace
yourself with one arm on the back of the couch.
Your bare body should have been glowing with the
heat it radiated.When I brought my hand back, and took your stiff
penis into my fist, you grunted. Your cock felt
so good. I remembered summer walks by a river
where I picked up stones polished to silky
smoothness by water and warmed by the sun. Your
thighs jerked against the side of the couch beside
me. I squeezed the shaft a few times until there
was a little liquid on the head. I spread it
gently over the glans with my thumb until you
pulled back and gasped out a plea."You've got to stop. It's too much. I want to
wait for you," you panted.You must have decided I needed to catch up. You
started by tracing the line of my thighs, slowly
easing your hand between my legs. When I startled
a little you kissed me again. They were warm,
deep kisses that distracted me from my anxiety
over what we were doing. I forgot to worry about
how we'd work together tomorrow.Your hands teased me, fondling the curls on my
mons, grazing my clitoris with the length of one
finger. It slid a little farther each time,
pulling slightly at the labia. My vaginal muscles
tightened and tightened, eager to close on
something. The tantalizing friction just beyond
my opening continued.Did you expect me to catch up so quickly? I
didn't want to seem impatient. I gripped the arm
of the couch behind my head, trying hard to keep
my hands still. My legs stayed straight and
quiet, but I managed to suck your lower lip into
my mouth along with your tongue. From the way you
jumped I must have sucked too hard.Your hand plunged between my legs more forcefully,
perhaps to divert me from your poor, swollen lip.
I gave in and spread my legs further to encourage
you. You took the hint, and began to finger my
clit directly, pinching it gently. My hips moved
up and down in a slow, irresistible rhythm.You closed your eyes and smiled as you slid your
fingers into my opening. My pelvis lifted high
off the couch and my muscles grabbed you
triumphantly. All the wetness pleased you. Small
scissoring motions stretched me and sent little
shocks to the core of sensation building inside.
My eyes closed too, shutting out everything but
the sensations in my middle, as hot and dense as
though a young star formed there.I took your head between my hands and guided your
mouth to my breasts again. This time you used
your teeth on the nipples, and hummed a low groan
against them every time I lifted my pelvis.When I added my own moans and the pitch began to
rise, you suddenly took your hand and mouth away.
I sighed with the knowledge of the pleasure that
was coming and opened my legs as widely as the
couch allowed.You didn't disappoint me. Once again you covered
me, but this time your penis pushed deliberately
against my crotch. I reached down and guided you
inside, my fingers briefly trapped between our two
triangles of crisp hair.We couldn't get any closer now. You were inside of
me, and I enfolded you. Your elbows pressed down
into the couch on each side of me. I grabbed your
forearms and returned each hard, slow thrust you
made into me. Your pelvic arch ground against my
clit. My vaginal walls pulsed to your cock's deep
stroking.I needed to see you again. I opened my eyes to
find you already watching me. In the low light
your eyes had the golden color of autumn beech
leaves. But soft. So soft, like I was looking
through somebody's tears.Our lips met in a heated, frantic kiss that sent
us both over the edge. You lifted your head,
straining with the exertion of faster movement. I
cried out helplessly as the delicious waves
rippled through me, washing through my nerves to
the tips of my fingers and toes. Your controlled
rhythm broke down into a series of short,
irregular jerks. Finally you stopped moving and
rested your head in the crook of my neck.The light in the fish tank made ripples on the
ceiling. We'd changed ourselves, but I wasn't
sure how. What's done cannot be undone. I was
almost scared until you lifted your head and
looked at me. I knew you were thinking the same
thing I was. . I'd wanted to fuck, but mostly--
mostly I wanted to make love.> >>Reading her last bit over, she realized she had to
tell him that explicitly. That she loved him.
Although speaking looks were very romantic, she
owed it to Mulder to be clear and honest.Mulder?
What was she writing about? This was her taunting
rejoinder to Mulder's joke-- the story of her
zipless fuck with Ed Jerse. When had Mulder
usurped the leading role?Had she been possessed? What was this "Last Will"
document anyway? Was she sure it was a joke?
Should she even have read it?** If you've read this far Scully, I want you to
know what would happen next.I would somehow summon the strength to go wet that
washcloth again and wipe you clean of all our
sweat, blood, and fluids, until you were as rosy
and pink as a baby.Then, somehow, I'd have enough energy to carry you
to Vernon and Gladys' bedroom down the hall. It's
very pretty, all in whites and purple. I'd pull
back the heavy comforter and slide you in. I'd
crawl in beside you and snap off the light, tour
guides be damned. We're federal agents after all,
I'm sure I can come up with some excuse. I'd pull
you back against me, finding the perfect alignment
of our limbs until you're fit into me like a soft-
winged moth to her cocoon. But I wouldn't let you
sleep."Scully?"
"Hmmmph?"
"I love you, Scully."**
Scully sat with her hands poised over the
keyboard. Her mind wrestled with several puzzles.
Finding Mulder's couch at the end of her journey
from SVO's Tattoo Shop. Getting caught up in a
visceral response to a pornographic joke. The
riddle of Mulder's real feelings. The current
location of the fucking mouse.After a hot, flustered minute or two under the
desk she found it. Very carefully she positioned
it in the center of the pad. She moved it to
place the pointer on the delete button with the
delicacy and precision required to defuse a bomb.There was a sudden commotion at the window, a
fluster of angry wings and agitated chirps.
Scully jumped in surprise and looked out to see
the robin defending his branch from another of his
kind.When she looked back at the computer screen, the
window that held her reply to Mulder was gone.She scanned the taskbar, willing it to show an
icon for her message-included return to "Last Will
and Testament." There was nothing. The screen
showed the original text of Mulder's message in
all its mind-melting glory. The cursor blinked at
her stupidly until she forced herself to click on
the "Sent Items" file where she saw what she
feared. The worst thing in the world had
happened. She had actually sent that reply
straight from her id to Mulder.Was he still at home? She didn't even want to
think about the cat and mouse game he'd play with
her if she asked him not to read the reply. Her
only hope lay in his absence. She could let
herself into his place to search for a fictional
case file on his computer. That damning message
could be deleted before he ever saw it.Speed dial proved its worth again. Scully's near
hysteria subsided into controlled panic when the
answering machine clicked on. Her voice shook at
first, and sounded a little squeaky to her own
ears. Luckily Mulder wouldn't notice."Mulder. Mulder? It's me. Remember that file
from the Pittsfield case? The results of round-
the-clock testing of Max Harden's hormone levels?
You didn't send it to me like you promised. I've
got that paper I'm writing for the Journal of Bone
and Mineral Research."She stopped herself with her own hand over her
mouth. Too much detail. Keep it simple."I'm coming over to copy it. Or send it to
myself. Never mind the e-mail I sent. I decided
I can't wait."Shut up Dana! she scolded herself. It was a
tactical error to tell Mulder "never mind." It
would attract him like a "Trespassing Prohibited"
sign at the rumored site of paranormal events.Never mind. He wasn't home. She had to move
fast. Grabbing her coat and keys she headed for
the door. Beltway traffic would be light on a
weekend. She prayed.X~X~X~X~X~X
As Scully made her way through Mulder's doorway
from the hall to the living room, she could
already make out the glow of the computer monitor
screen.Her heart sank and her legs shook so hard she had
trouble walking. She tried to convince herself
that he'd merely left the computer up while he
went out.No, it wasn't a screensaver, it was her letter.
Still approaching, she couldn't read the words but
she saw it was his e-mail program and the dull
beige of a letter.Her ears pricked, trying to make out any sound in
the dark apartment. Nothing.She stifled a wild chuckle in the echoing space.
He'd probably read her reply, jumped in his car
and was tearing out to Arlington right now.
They'd probably passed each other on I-95.She had a hysterical urge to lock his door so he
couldn't get back in. Her feet kept drawing her
towards the screen.He'd added something to the bottom after her last
words.> >> I'd wanted to fuck, but mostly-- mostly I
wanted to make love. > >>**Me too.**
Her brow furrowed. 'Me too what?' She'd spoken
out loud and jumped slightly at the sound of her
own voice.And jumped again at the reply coming from the
shadow-shrouded coach."I want to, too."
She turned slowly, her fear and embarrassment
overcome by sudden fury. The bastard had sneaked
up on her and seen her most intimate thoughts."What are you talking about?" she asked, keeping
her face blank but unable to control her pounding
heart. She took a few steps towards the door in a
stiff-shouldered gait.He beat her to the doorway, his long arm closing
off her exit."Stop it," he commanded. And then his voice was
sad. "Just fucking stop it."His last half-hour had been spent in an emotional
fun-house. Scully's reply had jerked him through
scenes of fear, despair, jealousy, lust and
hopeless longing. Finally, at the end, he'd
emerged on shaky legs to a glimmer of hope and a
promisingly awkward phone message. But what now?Frustrated--sexually, intellectually, practically--
Mulder was frozen. He couldn't think of another
thing to say or do. All he knew was, there was no
way in hell he was letting her out of this
apartment.Her eyes were glistening up at him in the darkness
and he remembered her writings. She wanted to be
grabbed.His arm shot out, snatching her pliant form to
pull it close. His face lunged down and he got a
great deal of pleasure from seeing her lunge back
up at him.Pain exploded from his nose to radiate through his
skull. Their noses had collided. Both cried out,
"OW!" and then tried again.This time, mouths managed to make contact, but the
noses kept getting in the way. Frustrated, Mulder
bent his neck almost completely at a ninety-degree
angle. She was too damn short and he'd never
noticed how large her nose was.She was whimpering against his lips and clutching
at him. Her heavy coat was tangling her
movements, but he vaguely thought she was trying
to climb him like a tree.He shoved her against the wall and bent over like
Quasimodo. Ah! He could finally plunge his
tongue into her mouth!Scully sighed in relief as his mouth moved over
hers. Count on Mulder, who couldn't ever open a
can of soda without spilling it, to fumble at
finding her mouth, she grumbled to herself as she
kept trying to dive inside him from her mouth to
his.It was so hot in there, in his mouth, in this
apartment...in this damned coat!She was trying to squirm out of it, but he
wouldn't loosen his grip enough to let her!She couldn't touch him at all since he was
practically bent at the waist in a bizarre move
that put him on the lower level of the kiss. Was
this some perverse desire he had as a tall man,
that he wanted to be on the bottom?She'd let him be on the bottom all right. She
gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden image. With a
great grunt, she pushed him off and managed to
trip him at the same time, sending him flying like
a rugby player thrown from the scrim.Mulder squealed as his elbow hit the coffee table.
Well, that was manly. He righted himself and
tried to see what the hell she was doing in the
dark. Was she leaving? She was thrashing around
in the doorway, panting with exertion. Was she
starting without him?Her coat. She was trying to get out of that
fucking coat. Something told him not to give her
even a second to reconsider. He had been
altruistic in his will, but that was in the event
of his death. He was going to interpret that
tongue down the throat as an admission of desire
and move from there.She'd read every word he'd written and hadn't come
over with her scalpel to castrate him--In fact,
she'd written back, in her own delicious breath-
stopping fashion. He would take that as a green
light, at least until she said the word, NO.He grabbed her leg and pulled just hard enough to
topple her over on him. She'd gotten one arm out
of the coat, but the sleeve was now trapped inside
out and had captured her hand.He didn't care. He had to touch her tits now--
right, fucking, now.Scully could hear herself, whining over and over,
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" as she wrestled with the coat.
How sexy, she thought desperately. She was sure
Mulder enjoyed some dirty talk, but this probably
wasn't what he had in mind.His hands. Those huge hands were under her
sweater. In her fury, she'd almost forgotten why
they were on this floor. They were on the floor
to fuck, weren't they? she wondered suddenly.The hands grabbed two handfuls of breasts over her
bra and began to squeeze them roughly. Okay, they
did seem to be on the right page.Her hips had found his erection. Jesus Holy
Christ! She let herself hump against the bulge
and she pressed her chest down on his hands.His voice, in a tone she'd NEVER heard, groaned,
"Fuck yeah!" in her ear.She managed to get one hand wedged between their
writhing bodies. He was not letting go of her
breasts, as though they were a flotation device
and he was drowning, but she was a woman with a
mission. She had to touch him and now.Thank God for sweatpants, no fly to contend with!
There it was, there it was--Scully grabbed his straining cock with a bit too
much enthusiasm and Mulder heard himself squeal
again. He really needed to stop doing that."Sorry," she mumbled, but she didn't seem
particularly sorry as she shifted her hips off his
pelvis to give herself a better angle for roughly
stroking his soft skin.It hurt, the tissue was too dry and tender but
there was no way in hell he wanted her to stop.
He also wanted to taste her tits.He rolled them over on their sides to try to get
on top of her, and she went under the coffee
table."Dammit," he bellowed in frustration as her
breasts slipped out of his hands. She just
cackled. Her arm, sticking out from under the
table, was still pulling at his cock.Determined, he wiggled around, somehow ending up
turned upside down and regretted/was thankful
immediately. Her mouth came down on the head of
his cock like a magnet to iron. But he could get
to her jeans' fly, he realized thankfully.He banged his head against the floor to divert his
attention. "Don't come, don't come, don't come,"
he chanted as he fumbled with her pants.This only made her laugh, the vibration traveling
up his cock to shake his balls.He had the pants undone, obviously with the
intervention of some deity, but they were too
tight to get down any further than her thighs.
They were peel-off tight, something he usually
appreciated, but hated with all his heart at this
moment.He had to get his mouth on her right now. He must
find a way to immobilize her and that seemed the
easiest way.Futilely, he managed to wedge two fingers in
between her thighs and whimpered at the wetness.
So close! So damn close!Twisting his wrist, he could get the fingers in
her opening but then, nothing.That was it!
Scully was in a dream. It was dark and hot under
the table, like some stifling, summer night-
induced erotic fantasy. The air was filled with
the smell of desire, her mouth was full of baby
soft-skinned cock, and she'd just gotten some
fingers to clamp her vaginal muscles down on.Suddenly, her world was turned upside down. He'd
pulled himself out of her mouth, dragged her from
under the table, and yanked her hips up in the
air."Ah-hah!" he cried out in triumph as he plunged
his fingers into her vagina from under her ass.She allowed herself to grind back against his hand
helplessly. She could hear him suckling on
something but couldn't feel his mouth anywhere.
Turned her head and forcing herself to focus, she
saw him reared back on his bent knees, red cock
extended, his free hand collecting her juices from
around his engaged fingers. He was licking them
clean with obvious pleasure.She almost fainted from the erotic image. That
was it. She freed herself, crawling up onto the
sofa, ignoring his howls of protest."Fuck, Mulder!" she yelled at him as she twisted
around and tried to get her athletic shoes off
with her one free hand."Yeah!" He was wild-eyed and almost incoherent.
He'd grabbed onto his cock like a horny little boy
and was pumping at himself."Help me get these clothes off, don't just keep
messing with me," she ordered as she tossed one
shoe aside.Shuffling over to her on his knees, he pulled off
her other shoe, and yanked at her jeans and
panties, his fast, hot breath burning at her
thighs."Now this damned coat," she said a moment too
late. He was on top of her, pressing her down
into the couch. Her protest died before she could
even get it out. The head of his cock was probing
frantically between her thighs. She realized that
in their rush to get her undressed, his sweatpants
were still on, roping his legs together. She
simply spread her legs wide to give him all the
space he needed, flailing around with her one free
hand until she found his tight ass and guided it
to tune in on her need.Mulder was getting desperate. His belly was
burning and his nuts felt like they'd turned to
stone. He had to get inside her and was terrified
in the same moment. He knew the second she
clamped down on him, he would come. It was all a
moot point since he couldn't find her opening--
this damned coat of hers was everywhere!She was trying to help him and he forced himself
to take a deep breath and focus. His throbbing
head slipped around in her lips, lower,
lower...there...He slid in surprisingly easily and allowed himself
a moment to revel in the accomplishment--to take a
sense of pride in the way she gasped out, amazed,
"Mulder!"Then, of course, all hell broke loose. He decided
to blame it on the coat. If she hadn't been
trapped in the coat... she wouldn't have done that
thing that made him do that other thing-- all he
knew was; now it was the leather of the couch
squealing in protest, her legs were like a vise
grip around his waist, he finally got a hand under
her sweater again to get at her breasts, she bit
his lip so hard he was sure it was going to be
twice it's normal fatness tomorrow--and that's why
he came like a freight train going off a cliff in
about ten thrusts. Although he really wasn't
paying enough attention to count.Scully was really glad her brain-cleaving orgasm
had rendered her nerves dead, or it probably would
have hurt when they were launched off of the couch
and ended up back under the coffee table.It was that damned coat's fault. She couldn't
move with his thrusts and she'd been left
completely at the mercy of his assault. Fullness,
stroking her inside. His pelvis, rubbing, hard,
across her clit. His elbow pinning her hair to
the cushion so she couldn't get a deep breath.
Auto-erotic asphyxiation, indeed.Woozy, she heard him murmur, "...Love you, Scully.
I love you," as his fingers tenderly ran around
her head, checking for a lump."Mulder. Mulder." She still clutched his shoulders
in a death grip. "I love you. Watch it!" she
warned. She hung on harder than ever to stop him
from raising up and banging his own head on the
underside of the coffee table.She should have said it first. What was he going
to think of her, so desperate for sex that she
couldn't even wait for the ritual exchange of
sentiments before falling to the floor in a frenzy
of lust?Maybe he didn't even believe she loved him. He
hadn't put those words in her mouth in his
fantasy. She hadn't said it in her e-mail either,
she suddenly remembered. Was there a graceful way
to explain that she'd just been going to add it
when . . . that thing happened?Her churning brain refused to suggest a single
graceful, appropriate action of any kind. Perhaps
she'd just have to lie there until one of them
died.Now the room was quiet, returned to the deafening,
tension-filled silence that greeted her when she
entered it, when was that, ten minutes ago?Oh shit. What had she--they done?
Mulder pulled off of her, wiggled out from under
the table, and propped himself up against the
couch, staring straight ahead. His hands
delicately tucked his dick back under his
waistband, just as he tucked his tie inside his
shirt when he ate lunch.She carefully righted herself as well. Her coat
slipped off easily as a tangerine peel. She bit
down hard to keep a curse from being released.
She felt she'd given him enough of a display of
her powers of profanity for the evening.Well...
Should she get up and walk out?
Mocking, the computer screen glowed at them in the
dark room..She rolled her head back on the sofa cushion, saw
the play of the ripples of light and water from
his fish tank dancing on the ceiling and forced
back a sob.Mulder heard the little gurgle of Scully holding
in tears.Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck...
He desperately needed to say something. The
perfect words that would make everything better."Umm..." He mumbled.
She had regained control, he realized with a
coward's relief. "So..." she said
conversationally.He could be polite too. "Uh, would you like to
clean up? I...I put out some fresh towels
when...I...figured you would show up..." Misery
coated his words like turpentine. "And
then...if you want...You probably want to go
home..."Scully was suddenly overwhelmed by irrational
relief. The same relief that let her know he
wasn't going to die when medical charts told her
otherwise. They weren't going to die right now.
"Mulder?"He didn't seem to share her instincts. "Yeah?" he
asked tentatively."Do you have any bananas?"
*** That's all the smut you're getting, folks! ***
Authors' Final Thoughts:
bugs, covering eyes in horror: I'm so ashamed!
This was supposed to be a sweet little He said/She
said, I swear! I need to apologize to your
readers, Branwell, for dragging you into the pig
slop with me.Branwell, cool and collected as ever, sipping tea:
Truthfully, I think I did have the idea about
Elvis, which accounts for a lot of the occasions
for sin.*grasping frantically at straws* bugs: Yes!
Branwell suggested Elvis and it was all over! She
made me do it! I was a smut-writing slave! Don't
blame me!Branwell, draining her cup and looking around for
the whiskey bottle: Exactly. It's all my fault.
Bosnia. The volcano in Japan. Harsh Realm...Final
Thoughts.Feed us like polar bears at the zoo: Branwell and bugs
And a tale of horror arising as a direct result of attempting to read this story. May it be a lesson to all of you. From Nicknoc:
You decide to print out bugs and Branwell's smutty story at work...you press
print and then dash out of your office toward the printer...you have a
serious "I'm busy and that's why I'm walking so fast" look on your face to
allay suspicion...you reach the printer and - EEEK - it's not there....you
wait for a while, sure that it will turn up very, very soon, so you can't
leave the printer...nothing comes out, and beads of sweat appear on your
brow...you walk/run back to your office, but it all looks fine from your end
so you walk/run back to the printer...still not there....you go back to your
computer and try to cancel it from the print queue, but your computer won't
bring up the print queue - double EEEK...you try and remain calm and walk
back to the printer, taking deep breaths....it's there!!! and in your
elation you decide to print out the next bit....bad mistake....this time the
whole printer is stuck and people are queuing up waiting for their
work....your pulse rate peaks as you realize they will all watch your smutty
story come out...fortunately, one by one they realize the printer is stuffed
so they all wander back to their desks....you have been reprieved, but not
before 10 years of your life have been shaved off due to stress....you
manage to cancel it from the print queue while the IT guys try and fix the
printer, but now you are too scared to print off that last bit. Curses.Nic (still feeling a little pale at the thought of someone stumbling across
one of bugs' NC-17 pieces)From bugs and Branwell: heheheheheheheheheeee....