Cashmere Sweater by T Bishop and Char Chaffin Rated: R Category: MSR Spoilers: Small one, for "Millennium" Disclaimers: CC would never let Scully have a sweater like this one... Authors' Notes: Once upon a time, T Bishop started a little fic, stopped right in the middle of it and then sent it to her writing partner and Smut-Sis Char Chaffin, with the challenge, "I Double-Dog-Dare you to finish this -" then she went on vacation. Well, Char NEVER backs down from a Double-Dog-Dare... and we will leave the reader to guess where T left off, and Char began - Summary: A well-spent $200 bucks, in Scully's opinion... CASHMERE SWEATER It was the cashmere sweater that did it. I've always had a thing for cashmere, so soft and warm and inviting - kind of like Scully - so enticing... Anyway, today Scully showed up for work in this incredible little black cashmere sweater, daring in the neckline, snug fitting around the bust, cropped short - barely covering that tiny little waist of hers. Yes, she was wearing a very respectable suit over and around said sweater, but the second I caught sight of that cashmere it was all over for me. I did something evil, truly wicked - I turned the thermostat up; not a lot, just enough that she would want to take off her blazer and my eyes could take in the full glory of my incredibly sexy partner clad in that hot little black sweater. Around 10 o'clock she started to get uncomfortable. I'd been 'uncomfortable' from the moment she'd walked in the door. "Is it hot in here, Mulder, or is it just me?" Oh, it's definitely you, sweetheart. Of course that's not what I said to her. "Um... I think the heat is stuck, Scully. I'll get maintenance down here." And then I picked up the telephone and pretended to make the call, while my unsuspecting partner returned her busy little fingers to typing up last weeks expense reports. I actually faked an entire conversation. And after I hung up the phone, I lied to her again. I'm terrible, I know, but it was the damn cashmere; I couldn't help myself. "They said they'll be down in a while to have a look. Guess we'll just have to tough it out for the time being. Why don't you take your jacket off, Scully? You'll be more comfortable." She stopped working and looked across the room at me. For a second I thought she suspected; that she was on to my devious scheme. But then she quirked an appreciative smile at me for my thoughtfulness (God, I'm really a bastard) and I tried to look disinterested as Scully stood up and removed her blazer, hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Of course the minute she turned her back to me, my eyes were all over her cashmere curves. I imagined what it would be like to run my hands over every inch of that velvety soft wool, feeling the heat from Scully's body emanating through as I slowly caressed her delicate feminine frame. I was quickly becoming overheated myself, thinking about her supple form beneath that downy pullover. She turned back around quicker than I expected and caught me looking; my face became a deep red. "Mulder, are you all right? Your cheeks are flushed and you're sweating." Concerned doctor that she is, Scully immediately made a beeline for me, placing her small palm over my forehead to check for signs of fever. I love it when Scully touches me, any little pat or stroke; I'm like a big puppy that way - I live for every tiny scrap of affection that woman throws my way. I looked up at her with my 'big puppy eyes' as she continued to play doctor, placing her fingers on the pulsing artery in my neck and studying her watch as the seconds ticked by. Her close proximity, and those cashmere-covered breasts at eye level were doing all kinds of things to my anatomy, not the least of which was a notably increased heart rate. "Jesus, Mulder, either the temperature in this room is really affecting you, or you're coming down with something. Maybe we should open the windows and get some cooler air in here." It wasn't a bad idea, but I was in no condition to stand at that point, let alone climb up and crank open those damn transoms for her. Scully started to move away but I just couldn't let her go without copping a little feel - okay, so it was only a hand on her shoulder, but it was amazing; and it left me aching for more. She gave me a puzzled look, wondering why I'd stopped her. Think, Mulder, think... I was thinking all right, but not anything I could tell Scully about. I was thinking about grabbing my hot little partner around her waist, pulling her close, and burying my face in those two soft, pillowy mounds, so perfectly packaged inside that baby soft sweater she was wearing. Had it not been for the SIG Sauer strapped to her hip, I might have let my impulses get the better of me. "Nice sweater, Scully," I finally managed to choke out. That won me a big smile, the kind that reminded me just how much Dana Scully loved it when her all-work-and-no-play jerk of a partner paid her an occasional compliment. "Thanks." I reluctantly let her go, and watched helpless from my chair as she retrieved the folding stepladder from the next room and set it up in front of the high bank of windows that laughingly make our office considered a daylight basement. As I saw it, I had two options: sit there and let chivalry die a slow death while Scully struggled to climb that ladder and open those windows in her five-inch platform heels - protecting my dignity by concealing the enormous boner a certain black cashmere sweater had instigated upon my person. Or I could prevent Scully from falling and breaking her neck by getting out of my chair and helping her, knowing that she would take one look at the way my slacks were tenting and quickly ascertain what I had been thinking when I'd said 'Nice sweater, Scully.' I did the only thing my conscience would let me do at that point. I waited until she climbed up the ladder and had her back to me, and then I hurried over to stand behind her, just in case she should fall. Now instead of Scully's quite ample breasts wrapped in silky soft cashmere, I was at eye level with one of the sweetest pieces of G-woman ass I've ever had the excruciating pleasure to fantasize about. This wasn't helping my 'condition', nor was it making it very easy to concentrate on the task at hand; which I should have been taking more seriously because... as I was admiring Scully's shapely derriere, she was stretching up to muscle one of the stubborn window levers and lost her tenuous balance. The next thing I knew the ladder was going one way and Scully was going the other and I barely managed to react quickly enough to catch her before she could fall and get hurt. The reward for my act of heroism? I now held my cashmere-clad partner cuddled in my arms, and to my surprise Scully seemed to be enjoying herself - so much so that I dared risk a little innuendo. "I've always wanted to sweep you off your feet, Scully. Guess I finally got my chance." Her face was just inches from mine and there was no denying that the sexual tension was working both ways. Up close Scully's eyelashes are long and fluttery, very flirtatious - although I'm sure she wasn't meaning for them to be. I'd just caught her by surprise, quite literally in fact, and she needed a moment to regain her composure. Which she did despite the way I was fixating on her lip gloss and how it resembled the sugary red coating on candy apples I use to love as a kid. My mouth was actually watering thinking how sweet it would be if I stole a kiss from her right then. "Mulder, you should put me down before someone walks in on us." "Do I have to?" "Yes. Right now. Stop kidding around, Mulder. What would they think if they saw us like this?" "Who?" "The maintenance guys. They're probably on their way down here at this very moment." I'd forgotten about them. "I don't think that's going to be a problem, Scully. They said it would be hours before they'd get around to checking our thermostat." "I see." She nodded and then to my delight Scully wrapped her arms around my neck and cozied up. "So, you're just going to stand around and hold me all morning then, is that it?" "I've had worse ideas." "Oh, you mean like sneaking behind my back and turning the heat up and then pretending to call maintenance?" She arched a single brow and I hung my head in shame. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Scully." I reluctantly set her down, figuring I'd blown any chance of ever finding out if Scully's candy apple red lip gloss tasted as sweet as it looked. ****************************************** The man was so transparent even I couldn't believe it. I guess it really began as my fault, however - for buying the sweater in the first place. I usually don't go in for such extravagance, but when I saw that sweater hanging in the window of DKNY Express, I had to have it. I spend a lot of money on my business suits, but I make up for it by being sensible when I purchase what goes underneath them - until I saw that sweater. I went in and pulled it from the rack and slipped into it - and just about swooned. The feeling was incredible. It was the first piece of cashmere I had ever bought, and now that I know how fabulous that cloud-soft wool feels against my skin... well, suffice to say I will probably have to set up a separate trust fund just to be able to afford the stuff. I agonized for an hour that morning before I decided to wear it to work. Yes, our basement office tends to be chilly; I could justify wearing it for warmth. Yes, the way it clung to my curves assured that my suit jacket would hang all the nicer over it, than even my thinnest blouse - so there was another justification. But in the end, I didn't wear it for either of those reasons. I wore it simply to drive my partner nuts. It appeared to have done the trick... and the candy apple red lip gloss was another stroke of genius. Not my usual color - I tend to go for more subtle shades of red. But after I bought the sweater, I passed by a Mary Kay counter, there in the mall - and the lip gloss was in the window, beckoning to me, as if to say, 'Well, Dana K - you bought the sweater; now be a good girl, and accessorize!' I have learned that when cosmetics take the time to actually speak to me, I need to obey them. It's the polite thing to do. So, there I was, in Mulder's arms; a very cozy place to be, in my honest opinion. His hands were resting on my waist, thumbs brushing back and forth against the cashmere riding there, as if he couldn't resist moving his flesh on the soft wool. The smell of his after-shave was heady, and I found myself resting my face close to his shoulder, inhaling the wonderful stuff quite blatantly. The seconds stretched into a minute, and then a minute and a half - and our proximity had suddenly gone past the need to save me from falling on my ass, and right into holding me because he wanted to... and my heart was pounding so hard he had to feel it, between the cashmere-coated breasts that were still brushing against him. I knew a pivotal moment in our relationship had been reached - and I also knew the rest of it was up to me. Mulder is a true gentleman; one of a rare breed that we women are finding less and less as the weary years roll on. My father was such a gentleman - and I could wish for nothing more in this world, than to find a man worthy of that title; worthy of being compared to my dad. I knew I had found him, in Mulder. I had found my gentle man. But first... I wanted to see how un-gentlemanly he could become... wanted to assimilate the results of 'pushing the envelope' with Agent Mulder. I may have started it with my costly but vital clothes purchase, but he jumped right into the mix when he raised that thermostat (of course I saw him do it, out of the corner of my eye) and then so-caringly 'advised' me to remove my jacket so as not to overheat myself - after he 'called Maintenance'. As I said, such a gentleman. So thoughtful. So solicitous. So full of it. My arms were still around his neck, and I didn't want to remove them. I didn't want to stop inhaling his skin. And I certainly didn't want to stop feeling the pressure of what had to be one impressive woody, poking into my abdomen. I was on my tip-toes, not quite touching the floor with all ten of them - and I had the feeling that even if I'd have been flat-footed on the ground, still I would be floating on air. Being this close to Mulder, in a non-life-threatening, non-comforting, non-'One-Agent-Helps-Another' situation, was having quite the effect on me. Not to mention the afore-mentioned woody. Now, I have seen my partner nude, several times during our seven or so years together. Once I saw him semi-hard, early in the morning; I had awoken him in the wee hours to catch a plane, and in the shadowed motel room, covered only with a thin sheet and a pair of cotton boxers... Mulder's semi was still a sight to make my heart go a-fluttering. But I had never felt, much less seen Mulder in a fully aroused 'Full Monty' sort of condition. It was heating me up, super-fast, within the sudden too-warm confines of my sweater. I pulled my face out from his neck, suddenly needing to see his eyes... needing to know for certain if what Mulder had been intending was what I had been hoping for, from the moment I walked into DKNY and laid down two hundred dollars for one simple, sinfully-soft cashmere sweater. I took a chance, and took a peek. Oh, my God. Mulder's eyes were dark with need; fully dilated and glazed, they stared down into mine with wonder. He was breathing through his mouth, almost panting; I could feel him tightening up, all around me. His hands gripped me higher, closer to my breasts; and as I watched him in equal wonder his tongue slipped out from between those lush lips of his, in an attempt to moisten their dryness - and when they'd completed that task, I leaned up a few inches, and followed that tongue back into his mouth... with my tongue. Take THAT, Agent Mulder... ****************************** Jesus... I couldn't begin to believe this - it had only happened before in my most fevered fantasies. I had my arms full of Dana Scully and her incredible sweater; that was amazing enough. But when I wet my very dry lips; dry from the serious case of nervous stomach I was experiencing... and her mouth reached up to me and that sweet little tongue of hers slipped out and followed mine home... Jesus. Yes, we'd kissed before, if you want to call that sad little lip-bump on New Year's Eve a kiss. A mediocre attempt at best, from me - and we were both disappointed in it. Happy New Year, Scully - whoopee. Pass the flat champagne and let me find you a noisemaker with no noise left in it... the best part of that evening was when I got to put my arm around her shoulders as I walked her out to the frigging car. And watched her drive off. And got to go home, alone. Well, okay - I did get to feed my fish when I got back to my apartment. As I said - whoopee. I had been wanting to kiss her again, of course - try every hour on the hour, for the last three months. Now I was getting my wish; another chance to kiss Scully, and all because of a cashmere sweater. Life was good... Life was great. Her lips, oh God. Rosebud-curved and red with candy-apple gloss, locked to mine. What a perfect fit. I cupped her face, tunneling my fingers under her soft hair, as I rubbed that lip gloss off her mouth and tasted candy-spiced apples on my tongue - the tongue hers wanted to play with. So they danced a slow tango, her tongue, and mine; danced and curled around each other, while our lips moved in time to the rapid beating of our hearts. I couldn't breathe, but who needed oxygen at a time like this? I was getting everything in the world I wanted, there in the bounty of her mouth. Her hands were burrowing under my shirt, and I don't remember unbuttoning the damned thing; maybe the buttons removed themselves. I guess buttons will do that, if you ask them nicely... Scully hit skin at about the same moment that my hands found the warm weight of her breasts, underneath her heavenly sweater - and I discovered another bit of surprise, on a mid-week morning full of surprises: no bra. Not a bit of one; not a scrap of lace, or satin, or a hook and eye to be found. Cashmere and nipples and cleavage, Oh my... I groaned into her mouth as my thumbs stroked over tight velvet nubs, and she moaned into mine in response. My fingers roved around on her skin with blind radar, finding all sorts of sensitive little spots, while the kiss, still that first kiss, went on and on. We hadn't come up for air once. As I said, no O2 needed here. I cupped her sweet breasts and kept them cushioned and supported while her fingernails flicked across my nipples and the feeling about sent me to my knees. And I never knew I had sensitive spots of my own; at least not there. I suppose I'd always thought nipples on men were a waste of, well... nipples. Until now. Her hands were very thorough in their equally blind investigation of my chest area - and I knew I had to get that sweater off, had to see what lay underneath - I had to do it before I lost a grip on my rapidly-dwindling sanity. I also had to break the kiss, and suck in air before I passed out. But I didn't want to let go... ***************************************** If I didn't let go soon and take a full breath, I would faint dead away; I was becoming more light-headed by the second. I had to stop kissing Mulder, and I didn't want to. I had to let go of his smooth, tight skin; long enough to yank this oven-hot sweater off, and finally feel him, flesh to flesh. I didn't want to take my hands from him, either. Quite a dilemma - a real Catch-22. But sensibility finally won out over greed - we let go of each other at exactly the same moment. Great minds think alike, you know. Well, in our case, great libidos. We inhaled huge fortifying breaths, as I whipped off two hundred dollars' worth of cashmere and tossed it carelessly over a chair, and Mulder yanked at his buttonless shirt - and neither of us thought to lock the door, which was actually already locked, thanks to my normal daily paranoia routine. Off came my skirt; down went the pantyhose. Mulder likewise made short work of his expensive wool slacks and his silk boxers and costly cordovan wing-tips... all of it hitting either the desk or the floor. When all clothing restrictions were gone; when we finally got rid of the material civilization of wool and silk and leather, and looked at each other at the same moment of awed comprehension - at what this step meant to us, to our partnership and friendship - the thick silence between Mulder and I broke, as I raised my wide-open gaze from an admiring perusal of his body; every glorious inch of pure masculine beauty standing before me. No sculptured nude of Ancient Greece ever looked this perfect; he took my newly-regained breath clean away. Yes, we had seen each other nude before; I believe I had mentioned that. But this was so different. I wanted to tell him, and found I'd lost the ability to form coherent sentences. And I opened and closed my mouth at least twice; trolling for words and finding instead an overwhelming need to sob, from the emotion clogging my vocal chords. I reached out a shaky hand, and laid it against the heated skin covering his heart - and Mulder found his voice before I did, and his hoarse whisper was nearly my undoing. "Scully... would you mind very much if I asked you to put your sweater back on?" ************************************** Well, that was smooth, Asshole - and not only did I render my partner completely speechless, but I am sure I pissed her off as well. What a moron... as soon as the words left my mouth I knew she had taken them the wrong way. I mean, we had just spent the last ten minutes thoroughly investigating the condition of each others' uvulas (and hers was in excellent shape, I discovered), palming each others' nipples, and generally getting pretty damned familiar; and I asked her to re-dress herself. That gorgeous mouth of hers, now devoid of lip gloss, dropped open, and she stared at me in shock. Then stared down at her chest, as if somehow I found her less than desirable in that area. Shit... no! That's not what I meant! I found myself almost shouting it out loud to her; my voice bouncing around the room with panicked intent. Her eyes jerked back up to mine, as I repeated the protest, in a softer tone. "I didn't mean it the way you think, Scully... please, listen. I wanted you to get dressed so I could take you out of this damned basement, and go someplace nice. This is so important, to both of us; I don't want it to be any less than perfect. Me and you in a soft bed, with candles and music and a fireplace burning and maybe some wine chilling and..." Her hand plugged up the rest of my impassioned warbling, and her smile of relief was lovely to see. "I don't need any of that; not right now. Oh, I'll want it, I am sure, Mulder - sooner or later I'll want it. But not now. That's not important right now, truly it isn't. What's important right now is the fact that for once, we let our impulses guide us. Deliberately, I might add. From the moment this day began, our impulses have ruled. I got up this morning and quite deliberately put on that cashmere sweater. And I left off my bra, equally deliberately. When you saw me, you purposely meddled with the temperature in this room, hoping I would take off my jacket. And I climbed that ladder quite willingly... knowing in these stupid stilts I insist on wearing, I was a shoe-in to slip and fall - just as I knew you'd be right behind me, to catch me." She stepped closer, and her hand slipped from my mouth down to my throat; she fingered my bobbing Adams apple briefly, before letting her fingers glide over and around my shoulders, trekking her way down to my waist. She pressed her hand into my abdomen, and the warmth of it was a comfort and a torture as well. I sucked in a shuddering breath, and fought to get myself back under control. "So everything we did today was carefully, impulsively orchestrated... on purpose?" Her smiling nod had me smiling as well, and I slid both hands under her curved little bare bottom and lifted her up and into me, feeling her legs part and press on either side of my waist. Her velvet womanly softness rubbed at me and it took a great deal of concentration on my part to just let her rest against me, without getting greedy. I wanted nothing more than to be able to sink into her and stay deep inside forever... but I also wanted to just feel her, finally feel her. God, I had wanted her for so long; it seemed as if I had been born wanting Scully. I had loved her just as long, with a desperation that even I couldn't believe. And yes, I wanted it within the trappings of romance, because that was what Dana Scully truly deserved. Lots and lots of romancing, which I intended to provide her; in fact I would spoil her rotten with it, for I knew she wanted it too, if not right at the moment. I found myself whispering to her, in her ear; as I held her up against me and she laid her head on my shoulder and sniffed at my neck. It tickled, and I would ask her in due time why on earth she was inhaling me, but for now... "Okay then... on purpose, and with completely impulsive deliberation... I love you, Scully. I think you may have some idea how long I've felt this way, and if you do... double it, and that's how long I've loved you. I love that you wore black cashmere just for me, and left your undies at home; I love that you climb ladders wearing those sexy 'fuck-me' heels of yours, and I love that you trust me enough to know I won't let you fall... but most of all I love that you want me so badly that you're willing to forgo romance for a quickie in the basement." Her warm, low chuckle vibrated against my neck, as she raised glistening eyes and stared me down. Her little tongue licked a path from one side of my throat to another, ending up at the corner of my mouth, as her reply hit me right where it hurt, so good... "Who said anything about forgoing romance... and quickie? I don't think so. I like a good, long ride, Mulder -" her tight little wiggle, right on my impatient 'saddle', about did me in - "And I can't think of anything more romantic than the desire for someone, so hard and so strong that nothing else matters... not even the FBI's Most Unwanted basement... oh, God, Mulder..." Her shuddering gasp was so sweet to hear, as I adjusted her a little, enough to position her in exactly the right place to ride. She curled her arms around my neck and met my mouth in a kiss which took my breath away, and I held tightly to my partner and thought how right she was. Nothing else mattered, not when I was so deeply inside the woman I love that I could feel her heart keeping time with the measure of my thrusts... not the outlandish price tag on a soft little cashmere sweater - none of that. I had the only importance in my world, here in my arms. And it was just so perfectly right, for a first time, but tomorrow, or better yet tonight... I'd give Scully romance, and candles, and soft music. If I could survive the impulsiveness of today, that is. End Thanks for reading, and please email us, at: tbishop27@mindspring.com and char@chaffin.com Visit our web sites! Char's: http://char.chaffin.com TBishop's: The Literary G-Spot http://members.xoom.com/arcticfox42/Tbishop.htm or try The Literary G-Spot Mirrors http://tbishop.freeservers.com/ http://www.stas.net/tbishop/ http://surf.to/tbishop ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 'Believe the Words...' http://char.chaffin.com