From: To: Subject: [XFNC17ff] NC17 fanfic: Voicemail Date: Wednesday, October 17, 2001 8:33 PM TITLE: Voicemail AUTHOR: Eris De'Ath Leigh KEYWORDS: Mulder, Scully, smut RATING: NC-17 If you're underage you shouldn't be reading this, but I'm not gonna stop you 'cause there is nothing in this fic that you wouldn't find in the dictionary – I just rearranged the words! SPOILERS: None, but for the purposes of this fic, Scully's bedroom window has drapes instead of blinds, and she doesn't have a dresser in front of it – trust me, I didn't refurbish her bedroom for nothing, it's important! DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully and Skinner do not belong to me and I am making no money out of them. Should anybody wish to change this state of affairs, I accept cash, cheques, Disney dollars and all major credit cards, including AmEx. ARCHIVE: Can't see why anyone would want it. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks are due to Carrie, who introduced me to the wonderful world of smut, thereby giving me a whole new interest in life! Nancy can take credit for inspiring this work, as it was her fic 'Telephone Lines' which started me thinking about the possibilities inherent in a cellphone – although now I've read to the end of her fic, I find myself strangely obsessed with the possibilities of yoga! Also, thanks to both of you guys for support, encouragement, beta reading, reassurances and lots of great chats! AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unlike Mulder, I place very little emphasis on the importance of truth, so any departures from accuracy should just be ignored. Also, just to let my American/Canadian readers know, I *can* spell properly, I just use English spellings rather than American, 'cause I'm never sure exactly which words you spell differently – hey, I'm using your vocabulary rather than the English, so that's more than my share of work in the interest of international relations! BTW, just a thought: given Mulder's taste in entertainment, I think, if he read fanfic, it would be the smut that would probably appeal to him! FEEDBACK: should be sent to eleigh@talk21.com where it will be loved and cuddled! Voicemail He was already on his way to her apartment when his cellphone rang. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me." At once, just the sound of her voice had him in a state of heightened sensation. On a subliminal level he wanted her constantly, but listening to her low husky tone sighing into the phone did it for him every time. It was probably an ingrained reaction, he chided himself, an automatic response triggered by an all-too-familiar set of circumstances. He knew he'd been courting disaster, but had been unable to stop himself. So he'd listened to her messages on his answerphone, time after time after time, as he brought himself off. He'd close his eyes as his right hand moved urgently over his engorged flesh, picturing her in front of him, taking him in her hands, in her mouth, in *her*… He'd been fantasising about her for years. He'd tried not to – she was his *partner* and deserved more respect than that – but he found it happening more and more frequently, and eventually decided to simply accept it. It was a fact of his life, a fundamental part of how he defined himself. He worked in the basement, he slept on his couch, he fantasised about Scully. He didn't even feel guilty about it any more – at least, he hadn't until these last few months. It had happened by accident the first time. He'd been so achingly close when the phone rang and he had let the machine pick up the call. That moment was etched indelibly on his memory. As Scully's soft voice caressed him with the details of her latest autopsy, he had come so hard it was almost painful. Hearing her voice as he climaxed, he had realised that once would never be enough for him. And now he was hooked. He'd kept that message tape and added others, screening all calls, trying to build up his collection. Scully had commented on the fact that he never answered his home phone any more, but still obligingly left messages for him, her voice breathy and low. He'd even had the bright idea of saving her voicemail messages for use on those frequent occasions when a case would drag him away from his growing collection of answerphone tapes. When he saw her name on the caller ID, he would instantly divert her call to voicemail and phone her back five minutes later. His initial excuse, that there was something wrong with his cellphone, had been accepted without question, but as the weeks went by and he had done nothing to rectify it, Scully had become somewhat suspicious. He had been forced to give up the voicemail scam and rely on the messages he had already managed to store. Still, he had one of his favourite Scully messages saved on voicemail, one where he could actually hear her undressing in the background as she spoke, so he didn't consider he had done too badly. Unfortunately, the voicemail scheme had led to another thrillingly risky pleasure. Mulder had found that taking advantage of his voicemail archive while on assignment gave him an experience more intense than ever. As he lay on his bed listening to the sound of her voice, he was acutely conscious of Scully's presence just the other side of a thin partition wall. Sometimes he could even hear the squeak of bedsprings as she shifted in her sleep. This proximity was something that was as addictive as the sound of her voice, and over the past few weeks Mulder had frequently found himself driving over to her apartment late at night. He would park opposite her building, gaze up at her windows, and imagine what she could be doing (or, to be accurate, what he would *like* her to be doing) just the other side of the glass, while he enjoyed some quality time with his voicemail. Mulder had rapidly developed a conditioned response; all it took was the sound of her voice over the phone and he was instantly hard as a rock, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside her. And now, he'd been heading over to her apartment on his regular nightly jaunt when she'd called him. The breath caught in the back of his throat, and he could hear Scully breathing deeply on the other end of the phone as she tried to read his silence. "Is everything okay, Mulder?" "Uh-huh." He fought for control, still amazed that the sheer sound of her voice could bring him to this. Seven words, two simple mundane phrases, and she had destroyed his ability to speak. "Mulder, are you in the car?" There was something about her tone…she was practically purring at him. "Uh-huh." He was still incapable of intelligible speech. His jeans were tight, almost to the point of pain, and her voice continued driving him to the edge. "Mulder, can you feel the engine thrumming beneath you, sending vibrations up through the soles of your feet where they touch the floor." Her tone was breathy. "Sending vibrations up through your ass where it presses against the seat." "Scuh-lee?" Mulder struggled to form the syllables into a question, certain that Scully couldn't possibly be saying what he desperately hoped he was hearing. He groaned into the phone as her next words removed all doubt. "Concentrate on that feeling, Mulder, the slight tremors against your balls, the friction of your jeans on your cock as you try and grind yourself against the seat." His hips reacted instinctively to her words, shifting restlessly as the hitherto unheeded vibrations of the car suddenly loomed large in his personal universe. And still her voice continued, lower now, more seductive, laced with desire. Mulder could scarcely bring himself to hope that her desire was for him. He'd always considered her unattainable, too perfect to be sullied by his touch. But, now, *she* was the one who had called *him*, so maybe she had needs not dissimilar to his own. And, if so, he would be entirely at her service. He focused intently on her voice. "Savour that vibration, Mulder, feel it against your balls, and imagine I'm there with you, taking them in my mouth, humming slightly in my throat to create that buzzing sensation that feels so good against your sensitive skin and it's hot and wet and -" "Jesus, Scully, stop!" His strangled cry provoked a rich chuckle from Scully. "You okay there, big guy?" Christ, she knew *exactly* what she was doing to him. Striving to control himself, Mulder managed a coherent response. "Scully, I'm still at least five minutes from your apartment. Give me a break here." She sighed breathily into the phone. "Okay, I'll hang up. See you when –" "Scully, wait!" An idea, too tempting to resist, had occurred to Mulder. "Let's talk about you instead, Scully." An idea had also occurred to Scully. Mulder heard that rich chuckle again. A sudden image of her repeating that sound as her lips wrapped firmly around his sensitive flesh provoked an unrestrained moan of pleasure. "So, Scully." Mulder winced as he shifted in his seat, wishing he'd worn looser pants. "What ya doin' right now?" "Right *now*?" She was using that voice again, that low sensuous 'fuck me now' voice that sent messages directly to his groin. "Uh-huh." Two words from her had reduced him to caveman grunts once more. "Well, *right* now, I'm cleaning the kitchen floor." That startled him. 'Jeez, Scully,' he thought, knowing better than to utter the words, 'you really know what does it for a guy.' He grinned to himself. It was so typically Scully to be taking the opportunity to get through a few chores while she pushed him to the very limits of desire. Little Miss Efficiency, as always. He could see her eyebrows quirking upwards as he imagined her rational defence against his unspoken observation, 'Well, why the hell not, Mulder?' Her *actual* words shattered this innocent picture, leaving Mulder with an overwhelming urge to watch her perform as many chores as she cared to get through. "Yeah, Mulder, I'm on my knees on the kitchen floor –" Mulder groaned softly, letting go of the steering wheel to reach down and unfasten his jeans. Hearing the whisper of the zipper, Scully uttered a soft command, which had his hand leaping away instantly. "Stop that, Mulder, I'm not finished yet." A muted whimper reached her ears and she smiled. "Don't you want to know what I'm wearing?" "Yuh, Sc…" "I'm wearing nothing but my underwear, Mulder. Black lace bra and panties, silk stockings, garter belt, and those high-heeled shoes you like so much…" Mulder felt his arousal ebb slightly and couldn't understand why. The image of Scully dressed that way, down on her knees in front of him, was one of his fantasy favourites, so why wasn't it working for him now? Sensing the change, Scully breathed his name questioningly. "Mulder?" And then it hit him. It did nothing for him because he didn't believe her. In his fantasies he could indulge in a million erotic visions, but with the real Scully he needed the truth. He *knew* that she was fully dressed over in her apartment, and his brain couldn't let go of that fact and enjoy the pretty lie she had invented for him. "Mulder, what is it?" "I'm sorry, Scully, I'm *really* sorry, oh God, you have no *idea* how sorry, but it's just not working for me." He pulled in opposite her building. "I just don't seem to be able to play around with this. I need you to stick to the truth if this is gonna do anything for me." "You don't believe me?" Her voice was low and thrilling once more, caressing him through the phone. "I'm sorry, Scully. It's not that I don't appreciate –" "Where are you?" "Outside your building, but Scully –" "Can you see my bedroom window?" "Yeah." "Then stay right where you are." Settling back in the seat, Mulder slowly raised his head, staring at the darkened glass, unable to detect even the faintest shape within. He could hear Scully's breathing against the phone and his excitement rose. After what seemed like an age of listening, his body responding as her arousal mounted to match his own, her voice purred into his ear once more. "You were right, Mulder, I lied to you." A frisson of excitement ran through Mulder's body. Jesus, he really got off on this truth thing where Scully was concerned. "I lied, Mulder. I lied to you. Because…I'm not wearing panties." Suddenly her bedroom light flicked on. Mulder could see her framed by the window, drapes pulled aside to give him a perfect view and…Jesus Christ, she'd been telling the truth. Underwear only – and no panties. Mulder groaned into his cellphone, the sight unbelievably erotic. Her voice continued to thrum against his ear, those low tones reaching right down to his groin. "Do you like what you see, Agent Mulder?" Scully turned slowly through 360 degrees, giving Mulder the full view. Left hand still holding the phone to her ear, her right hand reached up to gently stroke one finger against the base of her throat. "I would…uh…get a better…ohhh…view if I was…closer." "Not yet." Her tone was firm. Her hand gradually moved lower, to touch the exposed swell of her breasts. "I think you like what you see, Agent Mulder. I think it's turning you on. I think it's making you hot, seeing me put myself on display for you." Mulder's own right hand crept down to his lap, but Scully suddenly seemed to have developed psychic powers. "Stop that, Mulder. You don't touch yourself until I give you permission." "Scully, please, Scully –" "No." Her command snapped against his skin like a whip, and he dragged his hand away, clenching it firmly around the steering wheel. Sure of his undivided attention now, Scully resumed her purring tone, her fingers reaching down to dance across her bare stomach. "You know what, Mulder?" "Wha'?" "Anyone could see me like this. Any man who passes is gonna see me here, exposing myself for you, touching myself for you." Her fingers dipped lower for a moment before returning to fondle her flat stomach. "And they'll all know that I'm imagining your touch on my body, that I'm fantasising about going down on you and that the very thought of it is making me so wet –" Mulder's whole body was shaking. He had never been so aroused in his life – and he still hadn't touched either Scully or himself. "Please! Please, Scully, Scully –" He was begging. Her hand slid down again and he watched, transfixed, as she slipped one finger inside herself, drawing it out a moment later gilded with her own wetness. A soundless groan shuddered through him as he watched her suck her finger into her mouth and lick it clean. "Touch yourself, Mulder." He moaned with pleasure as his hand was finally allowed to stroke and squeeze. "I can't see you, Mulder. And I want to see you. Switch on the car's interior light." He released himself just long enough to obey orders, before returning to the exquisite rhythm Scully was setting for him. She had two fingers inside herself now, and he copied her motions, his hand moving up and down as her fingers stroked in and out. And, all the while, she continued talking in those sweet breathy tones. "…do this to me, Mulder. I'm going to spread my legs for you and you're going to thrust in deep, so deep, and you'll feel it hot and tight and wet and then you'll feel my muscles tighten around you…" "Scully Scully ScullyScullyScullyScully…" He was chanting her name as he finally achieved that long-delayed release, the knocking on the car window not even a peripheral distraction. Still dazed from the best orgasm he'd ever experienced, Mulder wound down the window, expecting to see Scully. Scully, from her vantage-point, saw the police officer before Mulder did, and hastily flipped off her bedroom light. She had no objection to exciting Mulder with the idea, but exhibitionism as a reality was definitely not on *her* sexual fantasy list. The burly red-faced cop who confronted him came as a bit of a shock to Mulder. "Right, buddy, if you'll just tuck yourself back into your pants, we'll take a ride down to the station." "Shit! No – I mean, it's okay, Officer, I'm FBI." Listening on the other end of the phone, Scully barely suppressed a groan of despair as she heard Mulder's words. 'Yeah, nice move, Mulder,' she thought. 'What a really great time to mention *that*. I hope you realise that this little escapade will now be common knowledge all over the Hoover Building.' Watching as Mulder was reluctantly installed in the back of the cop car, Scully couldn't help but notice that he still held his phone pressed to his ear, the line still open. As the car pulled away, she sighed into the phone. "Mul – derrrr." He stiffened instantly at her voice. Unwilling to make a sound, lest the phone be taken from him, Mulder wasn't sure whether to bless Scully or curse her as she described in explicit and intimate detail exactly what she intended to do with him when he got back from the police station. Hearing heavy breathing from the back seat, the unfortunate police officer glanced in the rear view mirror to see his 'passenger' enjoying a riveting telephone call. "…as you come in my mouth. And, Mulder…I swallow." Mulder couldn't help himself. He groaned into the phone at Scully's words. The next thing he knew, he was once more being confronted by his newest law enforcement acquaintance. The phone was wrested from his grasp and Scully heard the irate tones of the police officer just before the phone was clicked off. Several very long hours later, Mulder sat alone in his apartment, cellphone in hand, trying to pluck up the courage to call Scully. He had tried, and failed, to keep her name out of it, and something told him she was going to be really pissed at him when she heard the confession he was now obliged to make. After the cop had confiscated his phone, Mulder had been consigned to a cell and left in solitude. He had thought long and hard, about his future in the FBI, Skinner's likely reaction to this latest indiscretion, the prospect of being separated from Scully – anything to take his mind off that incredible telephone call. But the memory of Scully's words kept intruding on his thoughts. He was unable to stop himself replaying the entire conversation over and over in his head, the spectacular view Scully had offered to him providing a beautifully appropriate visual accompaniment. This intoxicating sensory recall had an extremely invigorating effect on a certain Scully-fixated portion of his anatomy. This reaction, while not exactly unanticipated, especially in the light of what Scully had promised to do for him when he got out of jail, was somewhat less than appropriate given his current location. However, when finally someone came down to his cell to question him, Mulder found he suddenly had no problem controlling his physical responses. The only desire that lingered as he saw the familiar form of AD Skinner facing him had been the desire to kick himself in the ass for ever having revealed to the cop that he was with the Bureau. Skinner had been apprised of the situation by the arresting officer – after, of course, the man had seen fit to share the amusing details of his latest arrest with the rest of the station, who, with tolerant contempt for the Bureau, all thought Mulder was the best joke they'd encountered in a long time. Having identified the number of the last call traced to Mulder's cellphone, Skinner had been very keen to hear Mulder's explanation of his conduct. Mulder, with some vague notion of protecting Scully, had issued a vehement denial of her active involvement, whether unwitting or otherwise – but unfortunately that had left Mulder with no option but to admit to his voicemail addiction. Logically, looking back, Mulder realised he should simply have kept his mouth shut. Skinner couldn't know exactly what Scully had been saying to him at the time, and the tale of Mulder's voicemail fetish would be no less embarrassing to Scully than the notion that Mulder used her regular calls in similar fashion. Mulder silently berated himself as he was forced to confront the repercussions that followed his guilty admission. Firstly, Skinner had personally deleted every cherished message from Mulder's voicemail archive, given him a six-week suspension, and forbidden him to go anywhere near Scully unless and until she had given him her express permission, preferably in writing. And secondly, which consequence was, for Mulder, the more serious of the two, he was now faced with the daunting prospect of confessing to Scully the sordid details of his voicemail collection and warning her that his intimate relationship with his cellphone would probably be the hot topic of conversation in the Hoover Building come morning. As Mulder sat back on his couch, staring despondently at his cellphone, it rang, startling him from his reverie. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me." As ever, Mulder's body reacted instantly to the sound of her voice. Frustrated with his own lack of control over this instinctive response, Mulder tried his best to resist a private action replay of the events that had got him into this mess in the first place. He clenched his right hand firmly around the arm of the couch, keeping it well away from that part of his anatomy which, after months of telephonic indulgence, now seemed to be running some type of voice-recognition software. Or perhaps, Mulder thought with a grimace, 'hardware' might be a more appropriate, if less technically accurate, term. "Oh, hey, Scully. I was…uh…just about to call you. I…uh…I have to…I have to tell you something." His tone was filled with the guilt he felt over what he had to confess, but try as he might, Mulder was unable to prevent the slight huskiness of desire from entering his voice. As his erection strained against his jeans, Mulder reached down to touch himself through the fabric. For the first time in his life he actually felt like a pervert as he realised that even while he was explaining and apologising to Scully, he would be unable to resist compounding the offence. He thought he couldn't possibly sink any lower, but then Scully took pity on his sorry state and her tone was so understanding that Mulder started to feel even more guilty. "Skinner called me, after he dropped you at your apartment. He told me about your voicemail archive." "Oh." There was a long silence. Mulder could hear her breathing softly into the phone and for the second time that night was forced to undo his jeans to ease the uncomfortable pressure on his erect cock. Exerting every last ounce of self- control that he possessed, Mulder refrained from touching himself. Instead, he spoke, his voice tentative. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "What did you…I mean…how do you…are you…" She interrupted his faltering enquiry. "I think my last telephone call to you pretty much demonstrated how I feel about this situation, Mulder." "But that was before you knew–" "Mulder." Her voice was taking on that sultry tone which made him want to thrust deep into her hot slick core, over and over and over… "Uh-huh?" His mind filled with these fantasies, Mulder was thrown right back to the pre- lingual state. "Remember that particular voicemail message you liked so much, Mulder, the one I know was your favourite, the one where you could hear me undressing in the background?" Mulder froze. Shit, had Skinner listened to the messages before deleting them? He must have done, or how else would Scully know about that. Mulder was horrified – but his thoughts rapidly took on a new direction as Scully proceeded to describe exactly what he'd been able to hear on that particular message, her voice husky and low. "…know you loved the way I sighed with pleasure as I removed my bra and lightly massaged my breasts. I know that was one of your favourite parts, Mulder. And when you heard the whisper of silk against skin as I slipped my panties down off my hips, you were right there, weren't you, visualising my newly-exposed centre as I stretched out naked on the bed while you sought your own release. You remember that message, don't you, Mulder?" Guilt silenced by intoxicating arousal, Mulder's right hand was already at work, caressing his throbbing cock as Scully encouraged him with her words. "Ohhh…yeah…Scuh-lee…ohhh…I…remember." "Well, that was the first message I left for you after I figured out what you were doing." Mulder was so shocked at this news, his hand actually stopped moving. She'd known all the way back then? His brain was having trouble processing this information. Scully then proceeded to display her psychic streak once again, responding to his unspoken incredulity. "Yes, I've known for a while now, Mulder. Didn't you know I could hear you through those flimsy motel walls? I knew exactly what you were doing, because I'd lie on my own bed and listen to you. I even heard you call my name. I liked hearing that, Mulder, knowing that I was the one who turned you on, that I was the one you were thinking of in those intimate moments. But I don't think you ever suspected what I might be doing at the same time, did you, Mulder? Not even on those occasions when the bedsprings squeaked." Unbelievably excited by what she was implying, Mulder found that the motions of his right hand had started up again. He settled into a rhythm and focused on Scully's next words. "I used to see you outside my apartment too, Mulder. In fact, I'd lie awake, thinking about you and about what I'd like you to do to me, until I heard your car pull up outside. And then I would go to the window and watch you touch yourself. Did you ever fantasise about me watching you, Mulder? Did you ever think about what I might be doing in my bedroom, while you sat in your car, listening to my voicemail messages as your hand stroked up and down your sensitive cock? Did you ever wonder if I was touching myself, dreaming of your hands on my naked body, of the way you would feel inside me? Do you know how many times we had simultaneous orgasms, Mulder?" Mulder felt himself close, so close to release. But Scully had something else to say. Her tone became sharper, more severe. "And then we come to tonight, Mulder. You managed okay, but that cop arrived before *I* was finished." Mulder, who had been concentrating on touch and sound and had allowed the rest of his senses to shut down, was shocked when, for the second time that night, his cellphone was snatched from his grasp. He looked up through a haze of sensation to see Scully standing over him. His eyes moved down from her face, and he was finally rewarded with the close-up view that he had requested hours earlier. His eyes moved hotly over her body, pausing longest on her lace-covered breasts, and the fully-exposed temptation between her thighs. She was so close that he could smell her arousal, and the way she was standing over him, legs spread to straddle his knees, left him ample opportunity to notice how wet she was. He moaned with anticipated pleasure as her next words opened up a hitherto unattainable avenue of delight. "You owe me an orgasm, Mulder, and I'm here to collect." FIN