Title: VCR (continuation of "VHS") Author: alee Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox – they are not mine. Spoilers: nada Summary: Who left this tape on his desk, and what secrets did it contain? Feedback : Will be dearly cherished; send to GothPhyle@aol.com Archive: If you want it, your welcome to it – just let me know where so I can enjoy the thrill ;) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It had begun just like any other day, but somewhere along the line things had taken a definite turn for the worse. Looking back, Mulder couldn't pinpoint the moment that fate had turned his previously sunny day into a cauldron of seething, ambivalent, repressed emotion, but it had clearly veered in that direction sometime between "good morning, Scully" and "see you tomorrow, Scully." Sighing in frustration, he collapsed onto the sofa, loosening his tie and glancing wearily at his watch. With dejected resignation, he stared at the videotape in his hands, wondering who had left it on his desk, and what secrets it might contain. Though he had been a bit taken aback at the sight of the tape lying on his desk, its attached message reading "thought you might find this information helpful", an unusually active telephone and several possible new cases had occupied his day, leaving no time to view the "evidence" during work hours. Wanting nothing more than a hot shower to chase away the day's tension, he forced himself to rise wearily, shuffling over to insert the offending item into his VCR. Returning to recline against the chilled leather, he suddenly froze, hand paused on the remote, as certain events clicked into place. Scully's opening sally after he arrived at the office and sat down at his desk, discovering the object in question. "So, Mulder, any idea who that tape could be from?" Her query a couple of hours later as they took a break from paperwork and research. "Had a chance to look at that tape yet, Mulder?" The subtle agitation in her voice when she returned from lunch, finding him perusing an old file, and asked "Any new leads from that 'anonymous tip' ?" And, finally, her curt parting words as she left for the day, slamming the door behind her in an uncharacteristically vigorous fashion "Let me know if that tape has anything important on it; assuming, of course, that you ever find the time to watch it." Wondering what could possible connect the contents of the VHS tape he was about to view with the definitely unusual mood of his partner, he pushed 'play' – and bolted upright, nearly sliding from the sofa in a puddle of sudden, complete, shocked arousal. There before him was the subject of his every wet dream, both literally and figuratively. The dim light bathed her skin in an amber hue, and served to accentuate the exotic cosmetics that made her always beautiful face and erotic work of art. The slow, almost caressing movements of her hands as they glided over her body turned the simple act of bathing into – holy shit! He swallowed slowly, mouth gone suddenly dry at the tableau before him. Hardly daring to blink, his eyes widened as the tone of the images before him shifted unmistakably from seductive to blatantly sexual. Dazed, he stared transfixed as Scully began to tug gently at her nipples, moaning softly, her voice lending a syncopated harmony to the lush, wet sound of the water lapping at her flesh. Torn between disbelief at the surreal aspect of watching his partner pleasure herself while filming the entire episode and – oh, my God! – moaning his name, and his escalating lust, Mulder pressed "pause", leaning his head back in exhaustion as his breath billowed through his chest. Groaning, he let his arms come to rest limply by his side, as he fought the shuddering tides of arousal coursing through his body. After interminable seconds, he raised his head, blinking heavy lids as he raised a trembling arm, and once again pressed "play". Determinedly ignoring the pulsing throb that marked the beat of his heart in every swollen, turgid inch of his painfully erect cock, he slicked a dry tongue over even drier lips, repeating his mantra of "I will not come, I will not come" with rising desperation. Despite his best efforts, his hips began to undulate in time with those of his celluloid fantasy, and the coarse pressure of his fly, pulling taut with every motion, edged him nearer and nearer to orgasm. Still, he refrained from touching himself, from delivering the few, strong tugs that would be all he needed to cum – Oh, damn! Oh, shit! Oh, holy fucking hell! – "Mulder… I need you… Mulder." With those words, his world went black, vision fading before the onslaught of wave after wave of crushing release. When he levered his eyes open long minutes later, he laughed ruefully at the picture he presented, limbs sprawled in abandon, mouth ajar as panting lungs tried to restore the balance of oxygen to his deprived brain, and pants stained with swiftly cooling residue as the videotape continued to play uninterrupted, its enticing images having given way to blank snow. Turning off the VCR and television, Mulder stared at the phone, before picking it up and hitting the familiar speed dial. Four rings later, her answering machine picked up, and he shuddered with the aftershocks of release as he heard her voice. "Scully, it's me. If you're there, pick up." A brief pause, in which he waited with bated breath to hear the click that signified her presence, a sound which never came. "I watched the tape, Scully, and I wanted you to know that … I think this 'anonymous tip' contains information that we should definitely act on. Call me when you get this message." Ending the call, he rose stiffly and made his way to the bathroom, ready for that shower more than ever.