10 by Shannon Kizzia (lmelao@earthlink.net) Rating: 17+ for two people having the sex and one watching. Spoilers: Anasazi, The Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Avatar Summary: Skinner has a bad week but is rewarded in ways he could not even have hoped for. Category: SRH Keywords: MSR, Skinner POV, voyeurism, 'bation (Hell, that's more of a summary than the freakin' summary! LOL!) Websites raunchy enough to post my smut: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xtasy/shannon.html http://www.kimpart.com/shannonkfic.html http://www.kimpart.com/ Notes: This is a sequel to another of my stories, and I'm not saying which one. Okay, fine, it's A Stiff One. If you haven't read it, I really don't think it matters one bit. Well, you might appreciate this on a whole other level. Also, you just need to assume that this is post-Millennium and no matter what was going on on the show at the time (and I can't honestly remember! LOL!), Skinner is M&S's boss and Kersh is his. Also assume that M&S have not yet done the deed. ;D Oh and, I almost forgot, first person to figure out the title and email me wins! Wins what, you ask? How 'bout one's very own econo-sized box of Scully-worthy latex gloves! Yeah, sure, okay. Thanks: To my forever peeps, Indi, Jason, and Mai! To David for making me want to write better humor and I apologize if I unwittingly stole Janet Reno. To my lovely Satina for her bang up beta and for archiving!! I appreciate you on so many levels, honey. ;D Thanks a million to Kimpa for all the work she does for me in archiving my stuff. :) And to Mitch Pileggi for the Skin Man. He's a great character to play with! I hope I did him justice. Special Note: My heart goes out to all the victims of the September 11th attack and their families and friends. May we all be strong in love, friendship, and peace. Apologies: To Janet Reno. I have really nothing against her. And neither does Skinner that I know of. Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even a decent pair of underwear. 10 by Shannon Kizzia The door clicks softly shut behind them and I curse, "Damn." There are several things I really despise in this world. I despise Deputy (I spit the title.) Director Kersh. I despise the stench of abandoned, day-old Morley cigarettes in the ashtray, (the one I no longer own). I despise feta cheese. I despise injustice. And I absolutely despise having to bawl out my two favorite agents. "Damn," I whisper again to no one. Well, it's kind of in the direction of Janet Reno. She doesn't seem to mind. Truth be told? I love Scully and Mulder. I think they're not only the finest agents in the building, but they're the best people I know. I love being their boss. Most of the time. Not today. I despise being their boss today. It's most certainly their own damned fault that I had to yell at them. Sometimes I want to just shake them both and shout in their faces, "I wouldn't have to do this if you two would just use your better judgment half the time!" I don't like thinking of them this way, but I really do see them kind of as my adopted children. I hear myself think it and inwardly shudder. It's kind of...icky, for lack of a better word. Or maybe it's just that I'm still looking at Ms. Reno. I shake my head and start to sort papers on my desk, aimlessly filing expense reports on top of car requisitions and sheets of paper with doodles I've made of the statue of David in a bow tie, a top hat, and spats. My children. I snort out an ironic laugh. I basically *did* tell them in so many words to go to their room. And the pout on Mulder's face was definitely childish. It served him right to be grounded. He screwed up. And Scully aided and abetted. Most of their fellow agents think she reigns him in and a majority of the time that's true, but there are times, and this is one of them, when Scully is as much to blame, when it's the two of them with each other and against the rest of the world. Well, they're like that a lot, even when I can tell she disagrees with him. They stand by each other. It's so adorable it gives me a splitting headache. And hell if they won't stand together in the punishment as well! The little shits. Just then, Kimberly buzzes me, but before she can give the announcement, Kersh barges into my office, cheeks puffed out in what is probably permanent indignation. It can't be good for him. He marches up to my desk and I casually lean back in my chair, lacing my fingers loosely together. He doesn't intimidate me. I've been faced with far worse. He knows it. It's why he has to pretend to be such a bad ass. All I see when I look at him is a glorified desk jockey. That's probably what he sees in me, too. Maybe we're both right. I quirk a sardonic lip and wait for his head to explode. It looks like he's going to try to stare me down into talking first. Fine. I'll bite. "What can I do for you....sir?" "You can begin by telling me what the hell you mean by not suspending Agents Mulder and Scully." When Kersh talks, he tends to spit. It's not attractive. If the man spits on me, he's toast. "I saw no reason for suspension to be considered. They made an honest mistake. They *are* being punished for it." "You call desk work punishment? I call it duty, *A*.D. Skinner!" He emphasizes the A. Wants to make sure I know he's one rung above me on the F.B.I. ladder. Kersh has got a Napoleon complex that rivals Napoleon's. I wouldn't doubt if he wears lifts in his shoes. "Agents Scully and Mulder are under my supervision. The Section Chief seems to think I know how best to deal with them. I've been their direct superior for 7 years. I know the kind of agents they are. I know what not being in the field means to them. I don't think you do." I readjust my glasses on my nose and lean forward, forearms on my desk. "I don't think you know them at all." "I know that they are about two steps away from being rogue agents. And I know that rogue agents should be dealt with harshly. There isn't room in the F.B.I. for mavericks." "Is there room for intuition? For acting on hunches? Come on, Kersh, that rogue agent rhetoric is bullshit and you know it." "Is it, Walter? Their days in the Bureau are numbered. If you don't watch it, yours may be as well." With that he turns sharply on his heel and exits my office. Shouldn't there be music playing to punctuate the villain's exit? The man is such a drama queen. 'It's coitains! Coitains for you!' Whatever, dickhead. Man, it's been a shitty day. I sigh and lean back in my chair and indulge in an activity that literally no one in the world knows about. I spin. **** Man, it's been a shitty week. It started with my bawling out my best agents. It continued with Kersh harassing me on at least three separate occasions. It only got worse when my alternator went out, my favorite Bob Seger CD got scratched, I ruined my best tie by dribbling red gravy on it (I don't even like red gravy!), and I lost my car keys for about half an hour. It's now 4:30 on Friday afternoon and I've finally found my keys and all I want to do is go have a drink. A stiff one. I tend not to drink alone or often. I got in that bad habit when Sharon left me, but I got over it. Tonight is one time I'm willing to make an exception for myself. Tonight I despise the idea of going home to cook myself dinner and watch the evening news or reruns of St. Elsewhere and Thirtysomething. I'm no longer thirtysomething. I had hair in my thirties. It seems like another life. No, I need some loud music to drown out the week. I need the comfort of alcohol and anonymity over the comfort of my couch and the silence that awaits me. The choice is clear to me as I make my way out of the office and lock it behind me. "Night, Kimberly," I say as I smile wanly in her direction. "Good night, sir." She's a sweet girl. She always shows teeth when she smiles at me. And she smells good. "Go on home, Kimberly. Those Xeroxes can wait til morning." "Thank you, sir." She sounds not just grateful, but excited. She's probably got some boyfriend to go see. Or a girlfriend. Good for her. I don't hesitate when I pull my car out of the parking garage. I pull a left onto Fitzpatrick and press a determined foot to the gas pedal. My Blazer roars to life and I speed into the brilliant amber of the impending sunset. I pull into the parking lot and can already hear the music from the open doors. I don't recognize the tune. If I were thirtysomething I would know it, I'm sure. I get out and go inside and as always happens here, I feel my tension ebb away. It's strange that The Club should have that effect on me. Maybe it's because my job can be so demanding. A little loud music and a few flickering lights don't freak me out. It lets me know there's another world out there. The gun under my jacket reminds me of who I am, but I can forget if I drink enough. Yes, I'm planning on getting shitfaced. I think the last time I got really obliterated was when I was...no, I won't even think it. It's getting tired. I get my drink from the bar, Scotch, and take a seat at a table against the far wall, away from the entrance. I enjoy watching the people, but I don't want to be social tonight. I just want to drink and slouch against this naugahyde and float on a sea of throbbing techno and 80s for a couple hours. I almost don't even recognize them when they come in. By the time they laugh through the door, his hand on her...hip??, I'm on my second Scotch and my reflexes are...softened. When it registers who I'm looking at, I can't help the surge of adrenaline through my system. Now this is interesting. Mulder and Scully at The Club?! Together?! It really *is* another world. They don't see me at all here in the shadows across the room and I get to watch them knowing they don't know I'm watching them. I'm kind of high on it. It feels almost like a stake-out and I briefly lament that those days are all but over for me in the Bureau. My place is behind a desk now, only occasionally heading up a field investigation. God, I miss that shit. Mulder's still in his suit from the office, but sans jacket and tie. Scully, however...well, she doesn't even look like Scully. She's in a little black number. Short, silky skirt and sleeveless top. Her legs are bare and -- (The testosterone is firing!) -- we've got cleavage. I can't help it, dammit. She's hot. Everybody knows it. Just nobody says. All of Hoover gets off on Agent Scully. Including the women. Even the straight ones. She's a babe. And yeah, I've noticed that Mulder is quite attractive as well. I'm into women and always have been, but that doesn't mean I don't see a damn handsome man when I look at him. He's got sex appeal oozing out of his pores; I'd have to be dead not to appreciate it on some level. And yeah, I *do* feel guilty thinking it. They're my agents. They are my kids. It's downright incestuous to sit here and look on as they make googly eyes at each other. And that's exactly what they're doing. They've taken seats at the bar and I can tell from here that the flirt factor is high. I've never seen them do this. It's fascinating really. Like watching duck-billed platypi mate on PBS. Mulder's giving her the bedroom eyes in a serious way and Scully's erupting in giggles over whatever it is he just said. Freaky. There have always been rumors about these two. I like to think I know them better than most and I've actually always assumed that they're *not* doing it. They are the best of friends; that part's obvious. But the wild thing? No way. At least, it seemed implausible up until about 5 minutes ago. They're practically drooling on each other over there! I have a moment where I get the urge to go break it up, then I remember that we're not at work. I'm not their boss here. They're not consorting while on a case. They're not slacking in their duties. And maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe I'm reading too much into how they're behaving toward each other. I have to laugh at the thought that maybe I'm just wishful thinking. Do I want Mulder and Scully to get together? Yeah, I guess I do. I just never expected them to ever actually do anything about the sexual tension between them. That tension is a universal invariant, like McDonald's or Charo. I don't know if anyone, including Mulder and Scully, would know what to do with themselves if they actually took the plunge and slept with each other. Just watching their weird date-like behavior is odd enough. I sip my drink and get nice and comfortable, stretching my legs out under the table. Drinks are set in front of them, shots by the look of it, and they watch each other as they throw them back. Like it was a dare and they both had to prove to the other one that they could do it. Scully recrosses her legs and drops her chin onto her hand, elbow on the bar. The look in her eyes is pure tigress. She clearly wants him. Well, clear to me. Perhaps not to Mulder, the dumbass. He's talking, probably about his latest conspiracy theory or the superiority of the Knicks, and Scully's unabashedly staring at his mouth. She blinks slowly, her lashes touching down soft on her cheeks before she lifts her lids back to half-mast. She blinks like this about five times before her wet, pink tongue slides out of her mouth to run along her bottom lip while she eyes his. Damn!! The woman is practically begging to get laid. And I'm getting hard. Fuck. Mulder just keeps talking, ignoring how Scully is rubbing her legs together and now gazing into his eyes with rapt attention. Okay, *now* I want to go over, not to break it up, but to help it along. They've both been out of the dating pool for so long that I think they've forgotten how this shit works. Well, Scully's making a nice effort, and certainly *some*one in this room is ready to throw her down and screw like silly, but Mulder.... Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. He's oblivious. What he needs is another round of whatever that scary looking shit was that they just drank. As if on cue, two more sickly pink shots are set down in front of them. This time Scully throws hers back first. She does so with zeal and shakes her little red head becomingly after she swallows. Okay, finally Mulder is taking notice here. His eyes travel from her face to her chest, down her torso, flitting over her tiny waist, hunger flaring in his eyes, before dropping without a hint of subtlety into her lap, licking his lips while staring into where her skirt has made a little valley between her legs. His expression says it all. It is very, "I may have to put my face there for the rest of the evening, if you wouldn't mind too much." Scully fidgets on her chair and breaks Mulder's concentration on her crotch and he brings his gaze back to her flushed face in a hurry. Not that she would have noticed; she's looking kind of...well, affected by her two drinks, to put it nicely. I wonder if they've eaten anything. She says something to him and I curse the fact that I'm too far away to hear them. I pick up my half-drunk Scotch and stealthily make my way closer, picking a table nearer the bar, but concealed slightly behind a concrete pillar. It helps that the lighting casts strange shadows and that the two people I'm shadowing are soon to be more drunk than me. Mulder picks up his shot and leans his head back far to drink. Scully zeros in on his throat. Oh yeah. These people need to be fucking each other. If there was ever a doubt, or if ever my role as their superior and boss colored my opinion, it's of no consequence now. They're so hot for each other, it'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetically sad. They might as well be a couple of blind people trying to sign to each other. Mulder makes a face like he just drank liquid evil. "You drink these, Scully?" She's indignant, but laughing. Scully. Laughing. I'll be damned. It's an amazing sound. Girlish. It seems very contradictory to her speaking voice which is rather deep and sexy. Her laugh is sexy for other reasons. And I'm getting a little harder. I sip my drink and scan the room to make sure no one's watching me watch them. It's cool. I might as well be invisible. Scully speaks and I focus back in on the conversation. "Okay, okay. You get to pick the next round, Mulder. What'll it be?" "You'll drink whatever I pick?" Mulder asks. He looks like she just offered to give him one of her kidneys. Scully scoots closer and palms the back of Mulder's neck. She's going to kiss him! Well, right on, Scully. It's about time somebody made a move. But wait. She's not getting any closer. She's talking. "Mulder. I'll do whatever you say." Well, that was better than a kiss. And I think she just rocked Mulder's world. He's putty. And I'm starting to relax a little more and enjoy myself. I *should* be pissed. They're supposed to look whipped and dejected. I know for a fact they've not had a nice week. The paperwork I had them do all five days was shit detail. It was all the crap I know they hate doing the most. So why am I sitting here grinning? Because I've wanted this for them. They've both had it so rough. They've had each other through every loss, seen to each others' battle scars, but never have they let down with each other enough to really have what they crave, to be what they both need to one another. I want this for them. It's not just that happy agents are productive agents. I really care about them, and I want them to finally come together in every way and be, at long last, truly indomitable. As I've been pensively sappy, my ice cubes have melted into the last of my Scotch. I down it and decide one more couldn't hurt. I catch a cocktail waitress as she passes by and order another. Might as well truly entrench myself here. I just have to stay to the finish and see how this plays out. **** I've watched them shoot tequila. I've watched them talk and laugh and touch each other as innocently as possible when horny-drunk. I've watched Scully blush. I've watched Mulder grope her with his eyes. I'm about to call it a night, satisfied that they are on some kind of road to a new, romantic relationship but that it ain't happening tonight, when they suddenly get up off their stools, both quite wobbly, and head to the dance floor. I plaster myself against my pillar until they've passed and then turn my chair so I can see them as they stumble out underneath the lights and into each other. Scully turns to Mulder with a smile and a cute waggle of her eyebrows as she begins to move to "She Blinded Me With Science." I chuckle at how fitting it is and watch Mulder tentatively take hold of her gently circling hips. His hands look so big against her. My hand drops to my thigh and I'm dimly aware of the heat of my fingers through my pants. I imagine what Scully would feel like, her hipbones under Mulder's hands, soft swell of ass just beginning under his fingers. Yeah, she'd feel so good.... I don't listen to my inner voice and stay with my eyes trained to their shy, dancing bodies. Scully lifts her arms over her head and Mulder doesn't disguise his lust as he blatantly stares down into the warm dark between her breasts. Scully watches him look at her, a small, triumphant smile playing about her glossy lips. She brings her hands down to his arms, caressing her way from his wrists up to his shoulders. They hesitate briefly and Mulder looks into her eyes. She strokes down over his chest then down around his waist, and then Scully makes the move of the century: she gropes his ass. And not just some fleeting handful. She really latches on. Both hands. Both cheeks. I knew she had the balls in this partnership. Mulder shrieks, "Scully!" Her voice holds a challenge. "Mulder?" My right hand tightens on my thigh and my left tightens on my glass as Mulder shifts his hands lower on Scully's body, slides them around and cups her ass in his hands gently. I see her quiver. Suddenly, his grip tightens and Scully gasps. They stand for a moment, breathing deeply, looking tentative even as their hands are squeezing greedily. And then they look into one another's eyes and I see their faces start to crumble and they both laugh. They don't let go. They just hold tight to each others' butts and cackle. I really shouldn't be watching this. For some reason this intimacy, the shared laughter, seems like something private, something wonderful breaking wide open, something I shouldn't be allowed to witness. I shift my gaze and focus on the song, its quirky little robotic voice. I look down at my lap. I'm still semi-erect. It would be easy to... No one can see under this table unless they're really trying. But it's Mulder and Scully. Would I ever be able to look at them the same ever again if I touched myself while watching them? I look back out onto the dance floor and what I see nearly knocks me out of my chair. They are no longer laughing. Scully takes a slow, cautious step in toward Mulder. She takes another and her body is now brushing up against his. She doesn't look into his eyes. She doesn't ask permission or check to see if it's too much. She just leans her little head in and presses her lips to his chest. Her mouth comes to right beneath his collar bone. She nudges his shirt away with her nose, and I'm left wondering why that small gesture is so incredibly erotic. My hand edges up my thigh, still not touching where I need it. Scully kisses his chest like she'd kiss his mouth. She opens her lips to a sexy "O" and darts her tongue out before gently locking on and sucking at Mulder's flesh. I can actually see his erection spring up from here. Scully kneads his ass as she kisses at him, passionately licking and nibbling, pulling with her lips, making slow love to Mulder's hot skin. And I know it's hot. Hot like mine. I'll bet he tastes vaguely salty...good...like sea air. I lick my lips, tasting mediocre Scotch. My hand settles on my dick through my pants. It's a peculiar arousal I feel. I'm drunk on looking at them. I know I'm watching history in the making. I know how scared and excited they must be. I know how Scully's heart must be fluttering. I know how badly Mulder wants her to feel how hard she's made him, how scared he is of letting her feel it. I know it all, and that's why I'm hard. I'm under the spell of them. I want them to touch each other so that I can then touch myself. I need it. Like they need it. Mulder mumbles something to her, closing his eyes and dropping his lips into her hair, breathing her. I can see his hands tighten on her ass and her skirt inches up the backs of her thighs, bunching in his hands. I'm seeing Scully's legs from just under her ass to her ankles. They are beautiful. Strong, slender, silky, and so bare. My poor male brain is just stuck on that fact alone: Scully's legs are totally bare. So much naked skin. I wonder what kind of underwear she's got on. God, I can almost see it. The wrongness of the thought makes my dick jump. The guilt of watching them, of acknowledging my own dirty thoughts about them, only makes me hotter. I smile to myself that I'm getting to watch them grope each other and they'll never have to know. I stroke my cock slowly through my slate slacks hesitantly. Up and down. Just once. Then squeeze. So nice. Mulder's hands skim up Scully's back and he settles them near her breasts. His thumbs could touch her nipples if he wanted to. And she just arched her back a little. It's almost imperceptible, so he might've missed it, but she wants him to touch them, to flick them maybe, right here in the crowded club. The song changes and they shift against each other. Scully matter-of-factly fits Mulder's leg between her thighs and looks at him for an objection. Like, "I'm goin' there, G-man. Are you coming with me or not?" He can't answer except to bend his knees, wrap his arm around her waist, and move against her when her hips start slowly, skillfully penduluming back and forth over his thigh, brushing his crotch covertly at the same time. Their hands start to rove over each other kind of fearfully. Nobody wants to disturb the moment. Nobody wants to recognize the gravity, that they are partners at the F.B.I. and this could change the way they are together forever. They both know it, but are willfully choosing to ignore it. So am I. This feels too right. I shake my head and smile, disbelieving. I wish I had a bucket of popcorn because this is the best show I've seen in years. I satisfy myself with a nice draught on my cool drink. It burns so good. I languidly pet my excited dick as the song drugs me. It's something I can't quite place, but I know I've heard it before. It's a song about fucking. About forgetting who you are. I think we're all in agreement that it's the perfect song for the occasion. Mulder finds the spot upon which to rest his lips against Scully's neck, not quite kissing her. Scully moves her hands over his hips, up his waist, fingertips teasing his ribs, flitting quick as can be across his nipples, then down, down, down the front of his thighs, nails scratching. Mulder groans into her and slides his hand up to her breast. He does. He weighs her tenderly, her tit settling nicely in the valley between his thumb and finger. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder, hips still rotating to the sex-laden rhythm. I can hardly hear over the music, but I think she says his name. I just cannot fucking believe what I'm seeing. Half of me is cringing, begging, The other half understands that for once they're *not* thinking and it's okay. That half is begging them not to stop. She tosses her head back, pursuing his eyes through the staccato pulse of illumination. I watch her mouth the words to him right in time with the music. "I wanna fuck you like an animal." I don't know what turns me on more, knowing Scully had the guts to say it or knowing she knows this song well enough to know when to say it. Mulder answers her. "I wanna feel you from the inside." "Mulder, kiss me." I begin stroking myself under the table as I watch Mulder's mouth descend, open, onto Scully's. She's ready. She parts her lips in anticipation of him and I get to see their tongues touch before their lips collide in fierce abandon. Suddenly, it's like she's trying to crawl up him like climbing the rope in gym class. He's crushing her to him, though, hand at the back of her head and around her back to clutch possessively about her waist. So this is what 7 years of pent up sexual frustration looks like. I moan at the sensitivity of my cock and slow my hand. I'm too aroused not to do something about it, but I'll be damned if I'm going to lose all control and cream my jockeys in The Club. If Mulder can hold out, so can I. Scully's hands close around the back of his neck, in his hair, and he walks her backward, with purpose, until he has her hard up against the mirror. Other couples are plentiful on the dance floor but I still have a pretty fucking good view of my agents. They kiss like they want to devour each other. I can hear her moaning from here. Mulder's going to lose it. I know what that sound coming out of Scully does to *me*. It's got to hit him fifty times harder. He is, after all, producing that noise himself. He slams his hand up against the mirror by her head and she jumps slightly, her hair mussing against the glass as she then melts back into his kiss and lets his body hold her up against her own reflection. She offers him her knee, trying to vine her foot around his leg. Mulder takes her thigh and jerks it up against him. Purple panties. A purple like the skin of a plum, covering her juice-thick sex, a thin membrane, a dam, holding in a flood of hot, wet Scully. Less than a second of a look at those pretty panties and then Mulder's crotch is against her. His knees are bent, hips thrust forward, trying to fuck her through her clothes. Scully opens her mouth under his, soundlessly crying out with the sensation. She grinds herself against him, banging her head against the mirror once in beautiful frustration. Mulder doesn't want to let her mouth get away. I'm sure he's already addicted to the taste of her, to the feel of her tongue filling his mouth. He licks at her lips, latches onto her once more, fucking with his tongue, and Scully whimpers into his mouth. She lets him kiss her for a few more moments and then pushes him away, hands against his chest, her leg lowering to the floor. Her eyes are like blue smoke and I'm choking. She leads him from the dance floor as the music changes. As I watch them leave I catch Scully look back at him and smile devilishly. Before I can process just what I've been allowed to witness, they are gone. I blink stupidly a few times and gradually release my grip from around my erection. I take my Scotch and down it in four long gulps. It trails warm fingers down my throat and settles pleasantly heavy in my stomach. I leave a generous tip on the table for Tilda, the cocktail waitress, and stand up on creaky knees. I resolve that I'm okay to drive, not having gotten plastered like I'd planned, but I only make it inside my car when I'm tugging the zipper down on my pants and pulling myself out. I can feel the bass pounding in my chest. I lay my head back on the head rest and close my eyes, jerking myself quickly and efficiently. I replay the evening in my head, finally succumbing to my explosive orgasm when the last notes of "I Touch Myself" fade into Divo. **** It's been about two weeks since I touched myself and thought of Scully grinding the crotch of her plum flavored panties into Mulder's erection. I've seen them a few times since then and I've been the epitome of professionalism as have they. If I didn't know better, hadn't seen it with my own eyes and personally drooled over it, I wouldn't know anything had changed between them. They've been their usual selves: Mulder understated and flatly humorous, Scully a mask of icy bemusement. I'm trying really hard not to over-compensate by being a total asshole. I find myself being too gruff just so they can't see that I'm completely fucking guilty. Of course, I don't want to go the other way and fawn over them and look like a big doof. I think now I've got the perfect measure of Mr. Stern Boss Man and Mr. Friendly Good Guy. I better have it down because I'm about to call them up for a meeting. I pick up the receiver and dial the basement. It rings and rings. That's weird. It's 10 in the morning. Too early for lunch. And I know they're down there. They wouldn't both take a break at the same time, so somebody really should answer. I decide that I could use the exercise and since I need to speak with them sooner rather than later anyway, I'll take the stairs down to the basement. I leave my office, asking Kimberly to hold my calls, and take the stairs at a healthy jog. I'm pretty proud of myself that I reach the basement and am barely out of breath. Old Walt's still got it even pushing 55 like I am. Guess those three nights a week at Gold's are paying off. I open the door to the basement hallway and I can hear them arguing from here. It's somewhat reassuring that they haven't changed that much. Mulder states confidently, "Can." Scully answers with just as much conviction, "Can't." "Can, Scully." "Can't, Mulder." It's obvious it's not a heated argument, just good-natured bantering. It makes me smile. I pause outside their door, which is cracked, to listen and see who wins. "Can." "Can't." "Can." "Caaaooooooohhhhh...." I *know* that "ooooohh." That "ooooohh" means sex. Oh my God! My agents are getting fresh in their office! I raise my hand to knock when my curiosity gets the best of me. I decide the listen some more. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe she just took at bite of an éclair. I plaster myself against the wall and peer cautiously around the corner. They're both in plain view. Mulder's got his arms wrapped around her from behind and he's tonguing her ear. You'd think he was trying to medal in it at the Olympics. I've never seen such dedicated ear tonguing. And Scully's eyes are rolling back in her head as she sags helplessly against him. Damn it to hell! I'm getting erect again. "Mulder..." She chuckles. "You may be able to get me turned on for a third time, but I'm guaranteeing you. I cannot come three times in three hours. Not gonna happen. I hate to break it to you." So that's what the argument's about. My mouth falls open in stunned salute. Nice, Mulder. It's good to see he's got priorities. "Scully, I've heard your arguments, and they mean nothing. I can make it happen. It *will* happen." He punctuates his statement by cupping her breasts through her blouse and kissing behind her ear. Scully moans and tilts her head, giving him better access. Even as my cock is readying itself, I'm getting a little pissed. At a club is one thing. At their apartments, fine. But at the F.B.I.? They fucking know better. So why aren't I barging in and handing them their pride on a platter? I want to groan with the indecision. Scully does groan and my body makes the decision for me. I crouch down and peer back into their office, knowing that I can't very well reprimand them for behavior unbecoming a servant of this great country when I'm hiding behind a door and watching them go at it. "Mulder, we shouldn't be doing this," Scully warns even as she pushes her ass back into Mulder's crotch. "You don't think I know that? That's why we're going to." He squeezes her breasts and then slides his hands down that delicious body until they're at the hem of her skirt. "Mulder." Scully goes for her warning tone. Mulder's hands inch up. "Mulder." A little more forceful. Her skirt is slowly being hiked up her thighs, Mulder's hands grazing her sensible hose. "Mulder, don't you do it." Now she's on the verge of laughing. Her lips peel open in a blazing smile. "You know you want it," Mulder husks in her ear and his hand comes up and slips into her panties from the front. I amend that. Scully's in thigh-highs. Much sexier. And maneuverable. Wise choice. I try to keep my breathing calm and even. Fuck protocol. This is fantastic. "Want what, Agent Mulder?" she breathes, nearly panting. "I don't have the faintest idea what you're suggesting." "Fucking, Scully. I'm suggesting that you and I do the nasty. Right here. Right now. Is that clear enough for you?" She smiles back at him as she replies, "Why Agent Mulder. Is that your Sig up against my ass or are you happy to see me?" Mulder sinks his hand deeper into her undies, probably penetrating her. She cries out like he did. "You're a smart woman, Scully. What do you think?" "I think...I think....fuck....I think I might come three times in three hours." Score one for Mulder. I want to touch myself so bad I feel it in the arches of my friggin' feet. "Mmmm, that's my girl." "Oh, shut your pompous mouth and do me." I almost choke, I'm trying so hard not to laugh. Then I watch something that I will relive for years. I watch Scully extract herself from Mulder's arms, wiggle out of her underwear, lift her skirt up over her ass, and bend herself over the desk. She's over it sideways, so I can still see her face. Perfection. Mulder's struck mute and his legs don't seem to work any more. Scully looks back over at him impatiently. "Well? Are you all talk? Fuck me for Christ's sake." "Oh Scully. What did I do to deserve you?" "I'm sure I don't know, but if you don't get over here this second and put your cock in me, I assure you, the consequences will be dire and swift." Mulder snaps out of his paralysis and quickly drops his pants as he shuffles up behind Scully. He spreads her ass cheeks and lines himself up with her. Slowly he pushes inside. Scully moans continuously until he's buried in her, then she looks back at him and smiles. "Good, huh?" Mulder takes a moment to swallow down his immediate lust. "If I'd known how good fucking you on the desk would be, Scully, I would've done it a long time ago." They start to move together, Scully pushing back and arching in ecstasy as Mulder bucks his hips into her, hard cheeks clenching with the effort. He strokes her hair out of her face and pets down her spine and she periodically hums, trying to stay quiet, murmuring from time to time things I can't quite make out. "Feel nice, Scully?" "God, I love it. I love you." "Love you so much. Love fucking you. Love...Scully...." My mouth softens from its aroused grit. I knew it was true. But I didn't know they knew. I thought this was just sex. But it's so not. He may have her bent over his desk, and he may be nailing her as hard and fast as he can now, but it's making love. They're making love. And I'm misty. Holy fuckin' shit. "Yes," she whispers urgently. "Mulder..." I watch him grip his bottom lip between his teeth, watch his florid penis jabbing at her, listen to the growl he can't keep inside as he begins to orgasm, watch her stiffen and throw her head back as she joins him. They both pant and shiver as they ride it out together, Scully crumpling papers in her little fists, Mulder probably bruising her hips with his strong hands. Then they both relax with big sighs, and he pulls out and tucks himself back in before reaching for the tissues. I watch as he takes a handful and wets them with his tongue before gently wiping between Scully's thighs. She hisses. "Sorry, honey," he whispers. "Mmmm," she replies and he keeps stroking through her folds tenderly, cleaning her. When he's done he hands her her panties and she stands up and puts them on, tugging at her skirt to get it to lay right. When she's dressed and they're both looking just this side of impeccable again, she leans into arms offered guilelessly and they hug and sway. They don't speak and they don't need to. How many ways can two people show such a boundless love for one another? They just know. And now I do. And if I don't get out of here fast, I'm going to get myself caught. I slowly stand, making no noise and I turn to head back to the stairs. I run right into Kimberly. "Oh, hi sir. I just came to tell you Kersh needs to speak with you." I wince. I'm sure they heard that. Now I have to go in there and say something. Shit. "Thanks, Kimberly. I'll be right up." I turn and take a breath and knock on their door. Scully clears her throat. "Come in." I walk in and it's almost funny. Mulder is typing away on a computer that for all I know isn't even turned on. There is no glow on his face. Scully is riffling through the file cabinets and turns as if rehearsed a hundred times to see me walk in. "Agents," I say in greeting. "Sir," they say one after the other. "Um, I just came down because you weren't answering your phone. I need you to requisition a car to go down to North Carolina this afternoon. There've been reports of paranormal activity in a town there called Blavensville. Several people have reported visitations from alien ghosts. Thought you'd be interested since it seems to combine two of your specialties." Scully nods and Mulder pipes up cheerily, "Of course, sir. Whatever we can do to be of service." Yeah, right. That's his happy, sated dick speaking. I can't help smiling at them. I can't scold them for fucking in their office when I sat right outside and enjoyed the whole thing. I decide to play with them a little, though. "Having a good morning, Agents?" When Mulder can't seem to find his voice, Scully helps out. "Uh...fine, sir. Thank you." "Good. Anything you'd like to discuss before I head back up?" Scully answers again. Poor dumbfounded Mulder. She'll probably kick his ass later. "I don't think so, sir, but thank you." "All right then. Have a safe trip. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." I turn around to leave before I can see that register on them. I bet they're really freaked out. I make a mental note to myself to send out memos to my entire section outlining the rules on the Bureau's policy of male and female agents consorting in the same hotel room so that it will be in their inboxes *after* they get back from North Carolina. That oughta really fuck with them. Nah. I can't do that. Too cruel. What I decide to do instead is take off early for a long brunch at Fedini's. I could use a good western omelet. I chuckle to myself as I jog back upstairs, still not out of breath, still chuckling as I pass Kersh in the hall on my way out. "Skinner, can I have a word with you?" he calls out. "Not right now, Kersh. Maybe later. Have a good one, buddy." I turn my back on his shocked face and walk out the door into the bright sunlight, chuckling still. End Feedback? Yes, yes, and more yes!!! It's just good karma. ;D Feel free to write me at: lmelao@earthlink.net