2400 words; E for sexy situations; sometimes you write porn that's all foreplay (more to come) (read on ao3)
The thing is that Mulder’s been looking at her tits for years. He’s more subtle than most men, mostly keeping his attention on her face, but she’s definitely noticed him noticing. She’s more than ready for him to do something about it. They’ve been dancing around falling madly into bed together since the baseball field. She’s not really sure how that didn’t end up with her getting railed on the hood of her car and then arrested for public indecency, but at least she can be grateful for the second part.
She can’t imagine what Skinner would have said.
Anyway, she would like for Mulder to look at her tits, and all the rest of her, from extremely close proximity. So, after their morning meeting, she undoes one button of her shirt. Nothing too overt. She still has plausible deniability. Mulder gives her a casual glance or two, but his eyes don’t linger. He’s such a fucking gentleman sometimes. It seems most likely to happen when she’d most like him to display a soupçon of lecherousness. It takes two to horizontal mambo, after all. She’s 99% certain that he wants her the way she wants him, but he’s fled from her previous attempts to advance their relationship to the bedroom, so that 1% of doubt does nibble at her. The simmer of lust in her abdomen competes with the roil of anxious uncertainty. But she’s tired of waiting. It’s time to stop playing games.
Well, aside from this one. But Mulder, pursued, flees. She has to create an opening for him.
So to speak.
When he goes up to get coffee from the bullpen to stretch his legs, she undoes another button. He comes back, enters the office mid-sip, and almost chokes on his coffee.
“You okay, Mulder?” she says solicitously.
“Oh, yeah, fine,” he says. “Hot. Hotter than I expected. You know how it is.”
She nods. She knows exactly how it is.
After lunch, while he’s washing his hands in the sink in their lab area, she undoes an third button, popping it out of the crisp fabric. It makes a popping noise audible to her ears. Her blouse is in a precarious situation, a plunging vee that shows the edges of the cups of her bra. It’s open almost to her stomach. If she breathes too deeply, the next button might go, no longer anchored by its fellows.
Mulder comes back to his desk, looks her way, and fails to sit in his chair. He hits the floor with a thump. Scully gets up and goes to check on him. He looks at her with a sheepish expression.
“You missed your chair,” she says. She offers him a hand up. He takes it, and she braces herself against his weight. Good practice for other activities. She imagines, anyway.
“You missed a button,” he says. “Maybe two.”
“How unlike me,” she says.
“It is,” he agrees. “The assiduous Agent Scully. Your attention to detail is often noted by your superiors. Not sure what they’d make of this.”
“Hmm.” She sits on his desk, crossing one leg over the other. Her skirt suits never used to be this tight. Sometimes she misses the boxy, comfortable fits of the early 90s, but this silhouette is certainly more suited to her purposes today. Mulder’s flat-front pants leave less to the imagination as well. Some part of her mission has been successful. She can see the evidence of that.
“To lose one button may be regarded as a misfortune,” he quips. “To lose” — he counts with his eyes and licks his lips — “three seems like carelessness.”
She makes a noncommittal noise. “I thought I’d try caring less about a few things, see if it yielded results.”
“How’s that going?” he says. He’s avoiding gazing into her cleavage with an effort that seems superhuman. His hands are clutched into fists at his sides.
“Preliminary results are inconclusive.” She swings her foot. “The subject is surprisingly resistant to my interventions.”
He swallows hard. “Maybe the subject is confused. A little scared he might be walking into a trap of some kind. Hypothetically.”
“I see.” She moves her foot a little further, rubs the toe of her shoe against the side of his knee. “If I wanted to file some kind of case against you for creating a hostile work environment, I could have done it years ago. Does that reassure you?”
“A little.” He drops his eyes, finally, to her tits. She can feel his gaze like a caress, lingering on the elevated topography of her breasts. Her push-up bra does its job well. Even she thinks her cleavage looks ripe, plush, pillowy, the perfect place for him to rest his head.
“Mulder,” she says in her most velvety voice. Somehow these things work with Mulder. So-called feminine wiles have never been her strong suit, but he looks hypnotized, like she’s some femme fatale. His eyes meet hers, already dark and a little hazy. “It’s not a trap.”
“Good to know,” he says.
“I’d say it’s an opportunity.” She tips her chin toward the door. “If you’re scared, go get some more coffee and I’ll see you tomorrow and we won’t talk about this.”
“And if I’m adequately caffeinated?” he asks.
She smiles. “Lock the door.”
He locks the door. She crooks a finger and he comes back to stand in front of her. She resists the urge to call him a good boy and scratch him behind the ears. Maybe later, once he’s proven himself.
“So this opportunity,” he starts. “Are there terms and conditions?”
“Somebody promised me a nice piece of ash the other night,” she says. “I understood that to guarantee certain deliverables in the form of a nicely wrapped package. For some reason, they haven’t fulfilled their end of the bargain.”
“Maybe the other party wasn’t sure how well their offering would be received,” he hedges.
“I was close to receiving it right there at home plate,” she says. “It was making its presence known. If you’d wiggled any harder, I would have been impaled.”
He smirks. “Do you think I have a shot at being a UPS driver?”
“No,” she says firmly. “Because you didn’t actually deliver. I’m still waiting for my nicely wrapped package, Mulder. The thought of it keeps me up at night. I don’t even care if it isn’t wrapped. I’ll still receive it.”
“I see.” He taps a finger on his lips.
“I hope you do,” she says. “But I’m willing to bend over and find your glasses in your desk drawer if necessary.”
He huffs a laugh. “Maybe I was hoping you’d follow me home.”
“I was hoping you’d follow me home.” She stares at him.
“Ah,” he says in a wise voice. “Perfectly symmetrical miscommunication. I should have known.”
“We’ve always been evenly matched,” she says primly.
“So what are we going to do about it?” He shifts. It does absolutely nothing to disguise his erection.
“Hopefully, many things,” she says, looking demurely down and then up through her lashes at him. “In due time.”
“And immediately?” he asks.
“I’d say the most pressing need is to investigate the failure or disappearance of my buttons, Agent Mulder.” She lifts her chin, watching his eyes follow the line of her throat back down into her cleavage.
“Ah,” he breathes. “What a mystery.”
He leans closer, touches his forehead briefly to hers. It’s grounding, somehow. She takes a deep breath. His nose rubs against hers, an exploratory nuzzle, and then his lips brush hers so lightly it feels like a sigh. Then his cheek is against hers. She can feel the stubble starting, a texture more than a prickle, but it feels good on her skin. His lips graze her cheekbone, the skin in front of her ear, the angle of her jaw, and then move to her neck. She gasps, even though it’s barely a kiss. Even the whisper of his mouth sends electricity crackling through her.
“No buttons here,” he says against her skin.
“Keep looking,” she suggests breathlessly, tipping her head to give him better access. He mumbles down her throat. She lets her head loll, dizzy with need. The anxiety in her belly has been subsumed by lust. She shifts slightly and feels the slickness between her legs. Mulder tastes her collarbones, the tip of his tongue dragging over her bare skin. Scully exhales hot surprise into his hair. He makes an inquiring noise, letting his teeth graze her clavicle, dipping his tongue into her suprasternal notch. She just hums her approval deep in her throat.
His arms are braced on either side of her, boxing her in, supporting him. She wraps her fingers around his forearms. His sleeves are rolled up. She can feel the cords of muscle under her fingertips. Mulder’s built lean and sinewy, but he’s strong. She wants to feel that strength against her, wants to sink her teeth into him. She arches her back, pushing her tits against his face. He nuzzles down to her sternum. God, that fucking almost-stubble is delicious against her skin. She wants it everywhere.
“No buttons here,” he says. His chin is pressed into the swell of her tits.
“Have you checked everywhere?”
“Now that you mention it,” he murmurs, and puts his tongue between her tits. She gasps. He devotes himself to exploring her cleavage with lips and tongue. She isn’t sure any man has spent this much time touching her tits, ever, but Mulder’s always been one of a kind. It’s astonishing, really. She hasn’t paid much attention to the erotic potential of her breasts. Her lovers teased them, squeezed them, and then abandoned the effort. Mulder seems more invested. She imagines what he would be doing if he had full access and squirms on the desk.
Mulder traces the edge of her bra cup with his tongue, dipping just under the fabric. It makes her feel tingly-ticklish all over, like her nerves are already overloaded. Then he bites her gently and she literally squeaks, a little “ah!” sound.
“Too much?” He looks up at her. His mouth is pink and shiny.
“No,” she says. “It’s good. It’s really good. Keep going.”
She catches a glimpse of his grin before his face is buried in her tits again. This time he bites harder, making her gasp and clutch at his arms. He pushes his face into her shirt and the fourth button abandons its post, popping open and giving him access to a wider vista of bra and breast. He immediately uses it to his advantage, seeking out her nipple and mouthing it through her bra. It feels so fucking good, even through the padded cup. She can’t imagine what it will feel like when he finally gets her naked. Well, she can, and it makes her pussy ripple with anticipation, but even with the fabric between them it’s so good. Part of it is the enjoyment on his face, the rapt expression, the way his lashes flutter against his cheek as he tastes her. Part of it is the way he seems to know exactly how to touch her to light up every nerve in her body.
He shifts to the other breast. Scully feels dazed. He isn’t even touching her anywhere else, just his mouth, just her tits. She’s still holding onto his arms, but those are the only points of contact. He’s even managed to tilt his hips so that his hard-on isn’t brushing her leg. She considers rubbing that prominent bulge with her knee and then discards the idea. If she touches his cock, she won’t be able to stop touching it. They’ll fuck right here on the desk, and that shouldn’t be their first time. It’s a fantastic fantasy, but she wants to be somewhere they can enjoy each other for as long as they’d like to without the risk of Skinner or custodians unlocking the door.
But God, she wants just this to last forever. His tongue swirling over her skin. His teeth sinking into padded flesh. All of his attention devoted to her, at long fucking last. She could come from his mouth on her tits, she’s sure of it. Part of her wants to. She could make a mess all over his desk, the one that’s still mostly his desk and only partly their desk. But she wants this pleasure to be reciprocal. She wants to taste him too, wants to tease his nipples and breathe him in the way he’s doing to her.
“Enough,” she gasps, when she judges he’s spent a roughly equal amount of time lavishing his affections on each breast. She’s so fucking wet. She might be leaving a damp spot on his blotter. She just hopes her skirt isn’t stained. Worth it, if so.
“Haven’t found your buttons.” He kisses her neck again, one lingering caress, and then withdraws.
“I’m sure they’ll turn up,” she says. “But if you keep doing that, I’ll come right here.”
The hot hunger in his eyes could scald her. She turns her face away and does up her buttons with shaking hands, breathing hard. She’s nowhere close to decent, but at least she can pretend.
“You know, Mulder, you look a little flushed.” She brushes the backs of her fingers against his forehead. “I think you should go home.”
“I think you’re right,” he says. “I do feel a little out of sorts, now that you mention it. Do you think my doctor makes house calls?”
“For conditions as serious as these, I think she’ll have to,” Scully tells him. “And you’re going to have to hold your jacket at waist-level while we make our way to the garage.”
“Why do you think I walk behind you so often?” he asks, raising one eyebrow. “You don’t have to coach me on how to conceal my Scully-induced erections.”
“Good to know you’ve got so much experience,” she says. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” She eases her way off the desk and wobbles over to her nice new suede coat. Mulder holds it up for her, solicitous as always as she slips her arms into her sleeves and then her hands into her pockets. She jingles her keys in her hand.
“Do you think we can get a siren for the top of your car?” Mulder asks. “It’s kind of an emergency.”
“I might not stop for red lights,” she says.
He grins and escorts her out of the office, two careful steps behind her.
the insane experience of missing a fictional character . like you can always go back and reread the book , replay the game , rewatch the show or movie , you can always go back & see them , but you can never experience them & their story for the first time again . its absurd to miss them because they'll always be there , but you'll miss when there were still new things for them to say .
for a small time they were real & growing and changing and you hung onto every new word, but now all they can do is repeat the same story forever&ever & they're not real anymore because you know everything they're going to do. & you miss them. its fucked man...
i love the x files cause it’s like what if the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen (literal doctor and FBI agent) got slowly convinced into believing in the most bizarre things imaginable by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen (big stupid doe eyes) (also top FBI agent) and now they’re wanted by the government for being hot. or whatever
Middle-aged sci-fi geek @scullyismyqueen - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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