**DO NOT ARCHIVE OR LINK TO THIS STORY WITHOUT PERMISSION** **WARNING! 17+ CONTENT AHEAD!** **DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY SEXUAL CONTENT** ***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter, and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it. ========== After Hours by shannono shannono@iname.com Story, Erotica Rated 17+ No spoilers Content warning: Smut. Adults only, please. Author's notes: A departure for me. Call it an experiment. Thanks: To Stacey, for editing. ========== Scully managed on the third try to slide the infernal key card into the slot in her door and get the damn green light to blink at her. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she shoved the handle down and pushed with all her weight, her eyes closing in relief as the door moved. She used up most of the rest of her strength in pushing the door firmly shut, then burned the rest on the three steps over to the bed, tossing her still-damp trench coat in the general direction of a chair as she moved. Flopping back across the mattress, her legs hanging off the edge, she lay there limp against the bedspread, staring unseeing at the white stucco ceiling above her head. God, what a day, her mind offered, and her mouth twisted into a wan smile at the thought. *That* was the understatement of the year. She couldn't remember being so tired. Since her *lovely* 4:37 a.m. wakeup call from her ever-hyper partner, she'd done two autopsies; traipsed through a muddy crime scene in a cold drizzle of rain that seemed to follow her everywhere these days; helped interrogate two suspects and question a half-dozen witnesses; and squeezed in four cups of coffee and a single "meal," composed of two regular McDonald's hamburgers and a vanilla milkshake, eaten around midafternoon in the passenger seat of Ford Taurus number eight thousand and four. The only good news, other than the fact that the day was over, was that one of the suspects had finally confessed, and that the evidence seemed to corroborate his version of events. An actual closed case, for once. And it only took one eighteen-hour day from hell to accomplish it. The ten minute rest on the bed had refreshed her just enough to allow her to think about getting ready for bed for real. She had a feeling, though, that even as worn out as she was, sleep would be a long time coming. She was still too keyed up, too much adrenalin still rushing through her body to allow her to sleep. But she was certainly willing to give it a try. She kicked her shoes off haphazardly, hearing them clonk against the wall, then lifted one hand to wrestle open the button on the suit jacket she still wore. Just as a knock sounded at the door. Oh, boy, she thought, weary resignation welling up in her blood like a fountain. Three guesses who *that* is ... She knew he'd keep knocking until she answered, or panic and use the extra key she'd given him, as she normally did. They very rarely invaded each others' privacy like that, but Mulder's sense of foreboding knew no bounds. "Just a minute," she called out, levering one arm under her and pushing up to a sitting position. Proud of her progress, she then used both hands to help lift herself to her feet, standing perfectly still for a few moments to allow the swimming of her head to ebb before heading for the door. She checked the peephole just in time for him to knock again, the pounding sending reverberations through the door and into her right cheekbone, setting up a new pattern of throbbing inside her head. Sighing, she turned the handle and pulled the door open to reveal Mulder, looking nearly as worn out as she as he leaned against the doorframe. Dark smudges stood out starkly under his reddened eyes, and his wrinkled suit seemed to sag as much as his body. His tie was loosened, his shirt half untucked, and his hair looked as if a family of rats had moved in and made themselves comfortable. "You look as bad as I feel," she said, leaning as heavily against the door as he was against the frame. "Tell me you're not here with bad news. I don't think I could deal with another minute of this case." One corner of his mouth lifted in a weary half-grin. "No news at all," he said tiredly. "As far as I know, this is one case that's sealed up tight." Scully's eyes closed in relief. "Thank God," she murmured, before opening her eyes again and focusing on him. "So what do you want?" She knew she wasn't sounding very friendly, and she certainly didn't want to start an argument -- neither of them was up for that. But Mulder seemed to understand. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm too wired to go right to sleep," he said. "So I had an idea." Scully's eyes narrowed. "Why am I suddenly afraid to ask?" she said. Mulder chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You brought a swimsuit, didn't you, Scully?" he asked. She lifted an eyebrow. "Now I'm *really* afraid to ask," she replied. Mulder tilted his head to one side. "I just thought you might like to try out what I just discovered -- the hotel has a hot tub," he said. "It'd probably help us wind down enough to sleep." Scully studied his face for a moment. He really did seem sincere, and in his current state of exhaustion, she doubted he'd be up to much mischief. Not that she wouldn't go along if he was, but she knew for a fact *she* wasn't up for it. Not tonight, anyway. So she shrugged in agreement. "Sure, sounds like a good a idea," she said. "Just give me a few minutes to change." Mulder grinned. "Well, I've got to change too, you know," he teased, lifting himself from the doorframe and digging in one pocket for his room key. "I wasn't planning on subjecting my one remaining Armani to a dose of hot chlorinated water." Scully found herself returning the smile. "Okay," she said. "Ten minutes?" "See you then." Scully shut the door, leaning her forehead against it for a few seconds. The hot tub did sound good, and she knew it'd help her get to sleep a lot faster than she would otherwise. But first, she had to gather enough energy to get changed into her swimsuit. Her Donna Karan wouldn't think much of the chlorine, either. ========== Ten minutes later, another knock sounded, and Scully finished pulling on the long green t-shirt she was using as a coverup before heading to open the door again. Mulder was in shorts and a half-buttoned blue shirt, sneakers on his feet and a hotel towel tossed over his shoulder. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded. "Let me grab a towel," she said, turning and heading into the small bathroom next to the door. She pulled the towel from the rack, then crossed back into the main room and stuffing it in the small tote bag that already held her room key, badge and gun. She slipped her feet into the sandals she'd left by the bed, then turned back to the door to find Mulder with his hand on the door handle, propping it open with his body, his head tipped against the surface and his eyes closed. "Mulder?" she said gently, and his eyes popped open to meet hers. "Mmmm," he replied, then repeated, "Ready?" "Are you sure you're up for this, Mulder?" she asked, growing a little concerned. She certainly didn't need him falling asleep and starting to drown in a hot tub. Not a likely scenario, but knowing Mulder ... He shook his head sharply, as if throwing off cobwebs, and shot her a grin. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said. "But let's get going before we fall over, 'kay?" She smiled slightly and nodded, picking up her tote bag before preceding him out the door. She turned back to watch him pull the door firmly shut, and then he stepped up behind her, his hand falling against her lower back as he nodded to her right. "It's down next to the pool," he said, and they headed in that direction. ========== The pool area was deserted, which didn't surprise Scully at nearly 11 p.m. The signs all read "swim at your own risk" and other such dire warnings, and one listed pool hours as "6 a.m. to 10 p.m." But since nothing specified hours for the hot tub, and since the water still bubbled and frothed on its surface, she didn't even bother to raise an objection. Besides, if anyone said anything, they could always fall back on their FBI badges. She wasn't above the blatant misuse of her credentials to secure the use of a hot tub after hours. With the day she'd had, she wasn't going to let *anything* stand in her way. She reached into her tote bag and pulled out the towel, draping it over a nearby chair before placing the bag a couple of feet away from the edge of the tub. She toed off her sandals and left them next to the bag, then reached for the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, dropping it on top of the bag. She turned back toward the tub -- just in time to see Mulder pull off his own shirt and toss it on top of his shoes. She realized then that the shorts were actually swim trunks, and some part of her was vaguely disappointed. She knew he wore a Speedo when he swam laps, but she supposed he really didn't need the sleek suit for sitting still in a hot tub. Shaking off her thoughts, she stepped over to the edge of the tub and started down the stairs into the warm water, the bubbles tickling her legs as she descended. She sighed as the heat surrounded her body, and she turned to lower herself onto the seating ledge. The water covered her nearly to her shoulders, and she closed her eyes, scooting forward just a bit so the water lapped along her neck. She tilted her head back against the top edge of the tub, feeling her tense muscles begin to relax. A sudden sound prompted her to open her eyes, and she realized Mulder was joining her. He sat down directly across from her, then slid down as she had, bringing his long legs up to rest on the seat next to her. They sat without speaking, the only sounds coming in the bubbling of the water and their own breathing, which to Scully seemed unnaturally loud. Mulder finally spoke, sort of. "Mmmmm," he let out, a sound that sent shivers down Scully's spine, for reasons she'd rather not consider. "This was exactly what I needed," he continued, his voice low and gravelly from exhaustion. Or something else entirely, Scully's mind piped up, but she made a valiant effort to ignore it. She was beginning to regret her decision to accompany Mulder for a soak. She was tired, and when she got tired, her carefully constructed resolve to keep her hands off him tended to slip. That was the real reason she tried to avoid spending time with him during off-hours. She'd like to do that, but she needed the time alone to regroup and reinforce her barriers. Lately, though, nothing seemed to be working. No matter how hard she tried, he kept working his way in around the edges, to the point that she was beginning to think giving in was the only option left. Now, reclining here with warm water caressing her skin and Mulder's leg brushing up against hers, it was all she could do to keep from gliding across and insinuating herself onto his lap. Even if both of them were too tired to follow through on much of anything. She sighed softly, not quite realizing at first what a forlorn sound it was. By the time she did, he was already beside her, bending much too close for her comfort. "Scully?" he said gently, concern laced through his voice. "Are you okay?" Every muscle in her body tightened as his nearness registered, and she clenched her fists in a last-ditch effort to keep from reaching for him. "Yeah," she squeezed out between half-clenched teeth. "Just ... tired." She didn't dare open her eyes to look at him, not when he was so close and she was so on edge. And then his hands were on her, pushing her away from the edge of the tub. Her eyes flew open in alarm, but she felt his large hand splayed against her back and heard his soft whisper in her ear. "Shhhh," he said. "Let me take care of you." She couldn't resist him, not when he was touching her so tenderly and she was so sensitive to him. He settled in behind her, where she'd been setting, then drew her head onto his shoulder, his hand continuing to support her as her body floated gently just below the water's surface. Her eyes fell shut again as his free hand came up to knead the tense muscles at the base of her neck, and she exhaled shakily, tremors running down her arms and legs. Despite her fatigue, every nerve ending in her body was beginning to tingle. God, what is he doing to me? she thought. He was barely touching her, just his fingertips supporting the center of her back and rubbing against the back of her neck. But that small contact was enough to make her ache for his touch everywhere, and burn for it in a few places. Somewhere in the haze blanketing her mind, she knew what was coming if she didn't pull away from him now. He was working his way past her last defenses, seemingly with no effort at all, and if he made any attempt to proposition her tonight, there'd be no way she could refuse him. But for now, at least, he seemed content to focus on her. His hands drifted only slightly, allowing him to switch one for the other under her back so he could reach for and massage the other side of her shoulder. She felt the tension leaving her in a rush, and suddenly she could barely stay awake. Somehow, he sensed her tumble off the edge of wakefulness, and he carefully lowered his supportive hand, allowing her to drift down through the water until she rested against his knees. Gently, he slid his arms across her back and under her legs, and he lifted her into his arms, carrying her out of the tub and setting her on the nearest deck chair. She stirred slightly as he set her down, and he shushed her tenderly before reaching for her towel and gently rubbing away some of the wetness. He set the towel aside and grabbed her t- shirt, easing her arms and head through the holes and pulling the shirt down to cover her. He turned away just long enough to dry himself a bit, slip on his own shirt, and stuff her sandals and their towels into her bag. Almost as an afterthought, he pulled her room key out and kept it in one hand, then slung the bag over one shoulder as he he came back to her and picked her up again. She was no more alert than before, but she did manage to slide her arm around his shoulders and help him balance her slight weight. Her other arm draped across her stomach, her fingers brushing the front of his shirt, and he smiled briefly down at her before heading back toward her room. ========== Scully stirred as Mulder stopped walking. She nuzzled against his shoulder, barely registering his sharp intake of breath and the shudder that went through him. He managed to open the door and move inside without dropping her or slamming her head or other body parts against the doorframe, and he lowered her onto the bed before dropping the tote bag on the floor. Leaning to her ear, he whispered, "I'll be right back," getting a soft sigh and smile in response. Smiling himself, he walked into the bathroom and started the water running for a shower. She probably hadn't even thought about washing off the chlorine, but he knew if she tried to sleep now, she'd be sure to wake up uncomfortable and itchy. So he was going to get them both washed off before getting her to bed. The shower didn't have a tub, or he'd probably have drawn her a bath. But it was a wide stall with a molded-in seat along one side, so there would be enough room for him to help her wash off. He didn't think she could handle even that in the state she was in. He adjusted the water and pulled the shower door shut before heading back for her, taking off his shirt again and tossing it across the nearest chair. Gently, he lifted her from the mattress and worked her t-shirt off again, then picked her up and took her into the bathroom. Scully roused slightly as her feet hit the cool tile floor, and she realized Mulder was holding her with one arm as he pulled the shower door open. "Mulder?" she managed, her voice scratchy with sleep. He turned to look down at her half-open eyes. "Hey, sleepyhead," he whispered. "I'm just gonna get all that chlorine off so you can sleep, okay?" She frowned slightly, but then her face softened again as she realized what he meant. She nodded. "'Kay," she murmured. He smiled again and helped her step into the shower enclosure, then followed and pulled the door closed behind him. She was still leaning against him heavily, and he moved far enough toward the spray that the warm water fell over them both. "Mmmm." He wasn't sure which of them had let out the low moan, but it didn't seem to matter. His body, which had been in a state of semi-arousal ever since he'd caught sight of Scully in her swimsuit, sprang to fully-alert status almost instantly, and he cursed his hormones. He was trying valiantly to keep this innocent, a little pampering for his best friend, but he couldn't help getting turned on by it. But then she squirmed against him, shifting enough that his supporting hand brushed the side of her breast, and let out another moan, this one stronger than the last. Maybe he wasn't the only one turned on by it. He stood indecisively for a few moments. She was so far gone that he knew he couldn't take advantage of her. But he could certainly carry his pampering a little farther than he'd planned, as long as she didn't put up any protests. They could always pretend it had never happened, his tired mind rationalized. They were experts at that, anyway. Reaching forward, Mulder adjusted the shower spray to a light massage setting and redirected it so it hit a few inches below the outer edge of the seat. Then he lowered himself into the seat, which turned out to be just the right height for what he had in mind. He turned Scully around so the water massage hit her lower back, and she let out another low moan. He bit his bottom lip against the ache in his crotch, then lifted his hands to her shoulders and started to slide her swimsuit straps down. Scully stiffened, but before she could react further, he whispered, "Shh, Scully, it's okay. Just let me do this for you. Trust me. Please." She paused, barely breathing, then brought one hand up to rest in the center of his chest. Her eyes still closed, she nodded once. Encouraged, Mulder returned to his task, carefully moving her suit down her body and over her hips. He deliberately didn't look at her, instead concentrating on lifting her feet out of the legs and moving the suit to a far corner of the shower stall. He lifted his hands, again without looking, and turned her away from him again, then pulled her back against his legs. He wrapped one arm low across her stomach, lifting her to sit on his thighs, then raised his knees between her thighs, drawing her legs apart. Then he slid his hips forward an inch, and she gasped. Perfect. The water hit her directly between her legs, just where he'd planned. The pressure was strong enough that she was writhing already in his lap, her hands coming down to dig fingernail prints into the sides of his thighs, the only part of him she could realistically reach from her position. He just barely managed to keep her from touching his erection; she wasn't going to last long, but this was going to be hard enough for him as it was, and any direct stimulation was sure to drive him over the edge. He brought his free hand up to the triangle of hair between her legs, avoiding the water spray while using his fingers to spread her further open. She bucked her hips up toward the water, low moans erupting from her throat, and her head fell back onto his shoulder. She was almost there already, he knew, her sensitivity heightened by fatigue. He moved his legs up and down slightly, the action serving to vary the angle of the water against her. She gasped and groaned, then jerked her hips up again. A guttural moan erupted from her throat, and she convulsed against him, her whole body shaking from the force of her orgasm. He held her in place a moment longer before relaxing, moving her away from the spray. Her ragged gasps gradually eased, and she lay limp once again, unable or unwilling to shift off of him. Moving gingerly, he leaned forward to turn the water off, then lifted her carefully and stepped out of the shower. He lowered her to rest her feet on the floor, then reached for a clean towel and began drying her off with one hand. The angle was awkward, but he managed to dry her without looking directly at her. She may have just finished coming in his arms, but he wanted to allow her to keep some part of herself back, until she was fully alert and able to give it to him willingly. He gave himself a quick once-over with the towel as well, then carried her back into the room. He sat her down on the edge of the bed, then maneuvered the covers down and slipped her between the sheets, tucking them around her shoulders. She gave a soft sigh as he finished, then returned to the deep breathing he knew signaled sleep. He smiled softly at the picture she made, her cheeks still flushed from her climax and her expression peaceful, and he lowered his face to brush a kiss across her forehead. "Goodnight, Scully," he whispered against her skin. She murmured in her sleep something that sounded like it could have been his name, and he found himself still smiling as he turned out the light and headed for his own room. ==========END==========