From: Foxie Meg To: Subject: [XFNC17ff] Bend Down and Whisper (True Blue Challenge) Date: Friday, December 14, 2001 1:36 PM TITLE: Bend Down and Whisper AUTHOR: Foxie Meg SUMMARY: A story about meeting halfway. Answer to my own True Blue Challenge because I just couldn't pass it up. DISCLAIMER: Until Carter renounces that ridiculous Scully- Doggett-Mulder love triangle, these characters are staying with me for safekeeping. (They're not mine, I'm just participating in sort of a Character Protection-type program.) RATING: NC-17 or maybe R. I d'know. KEYWORDS: MSR, V AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hate writing vignettes on a deadline. I especially hate writing *smut* on a deadline. What can I say? Mea culpa. (Well, that and curse you, Virtie! Fic Envy again.) Anyway, you know, this was going to be a PWP, but a little tiny plot sort of sneaked in when I wasn't looking. Besides, Mulder's turned out to be a moody little bastard... xXxXxXx BEND DOWN AND WHISPER **Mulder's sun-kissed shoulders glisten with sweat, his muscles rippling as he swings a sledgehammer forcefully down onto the fence post. The contact makes a solid "thwack!" sound in the afternoon heat, and he pauses for a moment to wipe the sweat from his face. He shivers as trickles of sweat run down between his sculpted shoulder blades, tickling his spine and joining the rapidly-growing damp spot at the waistband of his oh-so-tight dark blue jeans. Taking a deep breath, he pushes back his dark, sweaty bangs from his eyes, bites his lip, and lifts the hammer for another swing. THWACK! The muscles in his abdomen ripple with the slight effort of controlling the force of the thrust; his swings are gentle enough that the post doesn't shatter, but hard enough to drive it deep into the virgin soil. The very earth seems to quiver beneath his feet, and he smiles with satisfaction as he surveys the long line of fence posts and how the wire stretches tight between them, humming with the latent energy of the day. He pauses for a moment to pick up the shirt he discarded several hours ago, using it to wipe the sweat from his face before he carelessly tosses it to the rich green grass and picks up his hammer again to continue his work.** Mulder's shifting in the bed beside her jostled her awake from her dream, but Scully ignored the tendrils of wakefulness that threatened to interrupt her own private MulderShow and added a black Stetson to the equation. She frowned as she momentarily puzzled over whether he should actually wear the hat or merely hold it in front of his chest... The smile returned as she thought of the perfect solution. Enter Horse. With a soft, dreamy sigh, she snuggled down under the standard issue hotel velour blanket and drifted back to sleep. **The Arabian's sleek black coat actually shimmers in the sun, her finely sculpted head shaking from side to side in impatience as she waits for Mulder to mount her, which he does with lithe grace and a fluid rippling of muscles. No bridle, no saddle -- only Mulder and the horse, his cowboy hat settled firmly on his head, shading his eyes from the bright sun. At his silent command, the Arabian sets out at a loping canter, tossing her head in sheer delight at being ridden in the open prairie. Soon, she kicks up her heels and picks up the pace, her gallop powerful and graceful. The wind whips her mane back against Mulder's chest and neatly lifts the Stetson from his head, letting his hair --** The sharp ringing of her cell phone interrupted her dream and she growled with displeasure. Whoever was on the other end was going to die a slow and painful death for destroying the pretty picture she'd fabricated. "Scully," she ground out between clenched teeth as she answered the phone. "Uh - hey, Scully - it's me." She sat up suddenly, aware that Mulder was no longer beside her in bed, and searched for him. He was sitting in the swivel chair behind the desk by the window. What a dilemma. Was the disintegration of her Fantasy Mulder worth killing the real one over? Quite possibly, depending on his reason for calling her in the middle of the night, especially while they were in the same room. "Mulder, what is it?" Her first thought was that it was the case getting to him. A not-very-bright, but very gentle, high school freshman named Frank McDonald had come to school one day with a black eye and a broken wrist. His home room teacher had called a domestic abuse hotline, but Frank blamed his injuries on alien abductions and was sticking to his story. The bruises on his body, though, had been all too earthly, and Mulder had soon pinned the blame on the boy's stepfather, who had begun beating Frank as 'punishment' for failing his Spanish test and had developed a taste for it. Frank, who wanted more than anything for his mother's new husband to love him, had been trying to protect the sicko with his alien abduction story. They'd wrapped it up that afternoon, and Scully knew that Mulder had been deeply disturbed by the case, as he always was when an abused child was involved. As she reached for the lamp, she heard the chair squeak as he leaned forward and said breathlessly, "Don't turn the light on, Scully, whatever you do." "What - why?" she wanted to know, his command only intensifying her desire to do just that. "Just - don't. I don't want you to see me." Her eyebrows snapped together in a look that was a mixture of worry, amusement, and confusion. "Should I be concerned?" "Uuhhh..." His hesitation set off warning bells all through her mind, and she waved her hand, amending quickly, "Don't answer that." "Thank you," he sighed. "So what's this about, Mulder?" "If I told you that you were a very pretty woman and I'd like to show you some affection, would you be offended?" Scully barely contained her snort of amusement. "Mulder, don't tell me you're having plumbing troubles?" She thought she could actually *hear* the man's grin over the telephone connection. "Believe me, Scully - plumbing troubles are the least of what would get me locked up somewhere with orderlies. Although I wouldn't mind having some of Gung's mushrooms about now." "Might be interesting," she acknowledged. "No really," she said more seriously. "Why are you calling me when you're right across the room?" She heard an intake of breath, and then a pause, as if he was deciding whether or not to let the words pass his lips. "...Mulder?" "Scully, my credit card's maxed out." She shook her head as if trying to clear it of incomprehension. "Yes... so?" "And I can't sleep." She was beginning to get the picture, and it was a picture that simultaneously amused the hell out of her and turned her on. she thought affectionately. "Do you need me to tell you a bedtime story, Mulder?" Was that her voice? Low and breathy, like a 1-900 girl? If the way he sucked in his breath was any indication, then yes, it was her voice. She grinned with satisfaction and nearly purred. "I, um..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Actually, I just wanted to talk to you." Oh, God, was *that* embarrassing... "Oh," she said in a small voice, not sure how detailed of an apology she should give. "It's okay," he said with a small laugh. "After all, 'I have the keenest mind that has ever been turned to unlawful pursuits.'" From the way he said it, she knew he was quoting something, but for the life of her, she couldn't recognize the line from anywhere. "What's that from?" she asked, furrowing her brow in concentration. "The Princess Bride," he answered, rocking the chair back and forth slightly, just enough to make a small, barely audible 'squeak'. "I don't remember that," she said. "I thought I'd watched it enough with Matthew that I had the whole thing memorized." "Not the movie," he said softly, and she could tell he was smiling. "The book. I read it when I was thirteen. Many, many times." He paused, but she was quiet, waiting; he had more to say. "I um... kind of liked to think of Westley as an image of Sam... you know, everyone thought he was dead, but then he just showed up one day..." The quiet in the room was oppressive, not even broken by the squeaky chair, which was now still under Mulder's body. She could read the tension in the lines of his shoulders silhouetted against the white curtains. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she ventured, "Well, at least you didn't think of yourself as Humperdink." He laughed shortly. "Actually, I always sort of wanted to be Fezzik, you know." "The giant? The stupid one?" "Yeah - but you see, he was too stupid to get it when anyone insulted him. He was just... content." His voice darkened again. "Although he did have a disturbing tendency to protect the people who were most abusive to him." In an attempt to keep him from sinking back into the darkness of the case, she asked lightly, "So who do you think I am?" Without hesitation, he tossed back, "The Cliffs of Insanity." She laughed lightly and heard him join in with a soft chuckle. "No, really," she insisted. "Really? Well, honestly, Scully, I never thought of you in terms of The Princess Bride." "Oh," she said, trying not to sound disappointed. "Yeah..." Again, she felt him working up the courage, finding the right words, to say something she felt was immensely important. "Actually, there's this verse... a proverb, really... in the Talmud --" "The what?" she interrupted. "The Talmud. It's a book of Jewish religious teachings. Didn't you ever see 'Yentl'?" She shook her head, knowing that he could see her in the half-light. "Oh. Well, there's this proverb in it -- the Talmud, not 'Yentl' - that says, 'If your wife is short, bend down and whisper to her.'" She opened her mouth and shut it again, not quite sure whether he meant it jokingly or not. "Mulder..." His features were obscured, as his backlit form was turned fully toward her, but she could tell by the tilt of his head and the subtle movement in his bare shoulders that he was grinning at her. "What it means, Scully," he said, amusement coloring his voice, "is that husbands and wives should be full partners in everything - that if one of them has certain shortcomings, the other one should compensate for those faults and not lord it over their spouse. Equal share in everything." She felt her heart constrict at the gentle sincerity in his tone. "And that --" her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. "That reminds you of me?" "Sure it does," he answered easily. He shifted in the chair, and she watched his outline carefully, reading his body language. While his voice was light, his body was tense with nervousness. Wanting to have the perfect words to put him at ease while simultaneously telling him how much that sentiment meant to her, she was quiet while her mind ran through all the possibilities. The silence eventually stretched on long enough that almost anything she said would be irrelevant, and yet he sat there, holding his cellphone to his ear, leaning back in the swivel chair and waiting, watching her. Finally, she cleared her throat and said softly, "Thank you." He grinned widely - she caught the flash of teeth in the dimness - and shrugged. "Anytime, Scully. Now, what are you wearing?" She couldn't help but laugh. "Mulder, you know what I'm wearing." "Humor me, Scully," he pleaded, with just a hint of a whine, and she just *knew* he was pouting. The image of that lower lip and those dramatically sad eyes popped unbidden into her mind, and she sighed. "Well, despite the fact that you have an eidetic memory and I know very well you saw what I put on tonight, I am wearing your heather grey t-shirt." "And?" "And, what?" "What else, Scully? Which panties do you have on?" She sighed. "As you would have the opportunity of finding out if you'd come back to bed, I'm not wearing any. I took them off while you were brushing your teeth." He was silent for a moment, but she could see his mouth working. "Oh," he finally managed, shifting -- a little uncomfortably, she thought -- in the chair. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "Would you mind telling me that bedtime story now?" She chuckled, but her laugh was low and sexy, and the grin that pulled at her mouth was positively wicked. "I think I'd rather you tell *me* one," she purred. He shook his head, and she arched an eyebrow, hoping he could see it in the barely-lit room. "Scully, *please*," he begged, with much more than a hint of a whine this time, and she sighed in exasperation. "Why do I have to?" she wanted to know, sounding quite petulant herself. "Just... come on, please? Pretend I'm not here or something. Show me... what you'd do if you missed me." "That's a big 'if'," she muttered, but she knew what he was asking. One day, she thought, she'd like to have just ten minutes in a dark alley alone with his insecurities and her Sig Sauer. Sighing, she turned over onto her back and settled down into the pillow. "Well, you've been gone for a couple of days... Skinner sent you out of town on a case, and told me I couldn't go with you." She shivered, remembering the time he'd gone undercover without her knowledge... "I can't contact you, or I'd risk blowing your cover." She startled as she realized she had unconsciously incorporated that into their game. Oh well, might as well go with it. "It's been two days since I spoke to you, and I miss you... not only that, but I've been watching that series on Showtime that always makes me... well, anyway," she said, clearing her throat as he chuckled softly. "So finally, you call me, late one night -- you've just wrapped up the case, and you're coming home in the morning. But I can't wait that long, Mulder -- I want you." God, she realized, she was beginning to get a little turned on herself. "So I ask you to touch yourself, and tell me what you're doing." "I'm imagining you, Scully. I'm sliding my hand into my boxers, and I'm imagining you slipping your fingers under the hem of your -- my -- t-shirt that you're wearing, playing with your breasts." She did as he asked, enjoying the smoothness of the skin under her fingertips, the texture of her nipples. This was more than a little weird -- they'd never had phone sex before, and she wasn't sure about his experiences, but this was her first time ever trying it. "Tell me how it feels, Scully." "You know how it feels, Mulder," she answered a little breathlessly. "They're soft, so soft, and silky... the nipples are starting to get hard as I'm playing with them... Tell me what you're doing." "I'm taking my shorts off --" She immediately turned her head to see if he was, and smiled happily when he held them up to her. "I've got them off now, and my *God* this leather is cold under my ass!" She couldn't help laughing a little then, and he joined her, chuckling softly. "I'm stroking myself now, attempting to undo the damage of that cold leather," he said a bit wryly, ignoring her snicker. "I want you to touch yourself, Scully. Are you wet?" She snorted. As if it were a question. She'd been wet already simply from that dream he'd awakened her from. Which, now that she thought about it, he really deserved to be punished for... "Yes," she answered simply as her fingertips slipped through the slick, warm flesh between her legs. "Taste it," he ordered. "Mulder, no. Not tonight," she answered stubbornly. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not in the mood to get up and brush my teeth again." "Scully," he whined, but she held fast, shaking her head. "All right," he relented. "Then slide your middle finger into your vagina. Is it expanded enough for two?" "Not yet," she answered. "Okay... then just stimulate the front wall of your vagina for now. Feel the little ridges there? I love how they feel..." She sighed, pressing a little harder in response to his voice. "What are you doing?" she demanded to know, looking over at him. "Jerking off," he answered matter-of-factly. "Mulder," she began in a warning tone. "What?" he asked innocently. "This is not fair! I can't be the only one being seduced over here." "So seduce me." She sighed, bringing her hand to rest on her hip, feeling the moisture from her finger against her skin. "You're not really in the mood for this tonight, are you?" His hand stilled on his penis, and he answered her sigh with one of his own. "I... not really, no." She smiled at him, holding out her hand. "Come to bed, Mulder. I want to hold you." He nodded, getting up from the chair slowly. "I... I'd like that, Scully," he admitted softly, turning off his cellphone and placing it on the stand by the bed. She did the same with hers, opening her arms to him as he slipped between the covers. As he settled into her embrace, she stroked his hair soothingly and placed a kiss by his temple. "It's the case, isn't it?" she asked softly, thinking now that her first impulse upon awakening had been correct. "Not so much the case as... Frank," he clarified. "Did you notice how everyone made fun of him?" Scully nodded, tightening her hold on him. "And his stepfather... beating him because of bad grades, as if that would help." She remembered Mulder's haunted look as he'd talked to Frank, explaining to him in words that were simple without being condescending that what his stepfather was doing to him was wrong, and that it wasn't his fault. She remembered fondly how Frank had laughed as Mulder had kicked a soccer ball back and forth with him in a field, giving him the acceptance that Frank's stepfather wouldn't. She remember most of all Mulder's wide, generous smile and the chummy way he'd clapped Frank on the shoulder. <"You're a great kid,"> he'd said. She smiled softly as she recalled the way Frank's face had glowed at that simple compliment. "Mulder," she said, softly but firmly. He didn't respond, and she called his name again. Finally, he tilted his head up until he could meet her eyes. "I think you helped him," she told him. "How?" Kissing him between the eyes, she snuggled down into the mattress with him and said, "Because you did for him what you always do for me - you bent down and whispered to him." He sighed. "I love you, Scully." "I know you do," she answered with a smile. As she felt his breathing begin to even out, she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "'In the meantime, sleep well, and dream of large women.'" He burst out laughing and pulled away from her just enough to look into her eyes, smiling with delight. Kissing her, he grinned and vowed, "As you wish." *** THE END Challenge Elements: 1. Mulder & Scully having phone sex while in the same room with each other. 2. Mulder in jeans, a Stetson, and no shirt. 3. A quote from The Princess Bride, either the book or the movie, OTHER THAN "As you wish" - and work in Humperdink somehow. 4. A swivel chair 5. Problems with a credit card *or* a problem solved by a credit card 6. A reference to one of the following S2 eps: Excelsis Dei, Our Town, Humbug, The Calusari, Soft Light, or Fearful Symmetry. 7. A quote from a religious text other than the Christian Bible