Subject: NEW: Mulder and Scully Have Sex (1/1) by Madeleine Partous and Leyla Harrison **NC-17** From: Madeleine Partous Date: Tue, 17 Mar 1998 10:45:25 -0800 Mulder and Scully Have Sex (1/1) by Madeleine Partous and Leyla Harrison Summary, disclaimer, rating and classification to follow. Author's Notes written by Madeleine (because she does the best intros): Hi. As you know, every possible sex scene between Mulder & Scully has already been written. In fact, it's arguable that many of them have been written far too many times. This is perfectly understandable. Human nature being what it is, all of us draw a modicum of comfort from the familiar. Well. Except for Leyla and I. We've had it. Yes we have. Both of us have garnered a, well, dubious kind of fame for, shall we say, um, rather vivid sex between our heroes. Unfortunately, we're both bored. And yet, sex between our principles continues to exude a kind of bizarre, inescapable fascination despite the fact that at last count, they've done it on boats, in cars, in alleys, on each other's couches, on countertops, against filing cabinets, in Skinner's office, on graves, in closets and, I think I vaguely remember, even in outer space. So why the compulsion to continue in this vein? Well, as Leyla and I have concluded, because we're both hopelessly dirty-minded. Alas. Without further ado, then, here's exactly what most of us really look for when we see the NC-17 label on a piece of fanfic. I mean, let's be honest here. *We* know what you want. And by God, we're prepared to give it to you. So sit back, pour yourself a glass of wine, put on some soft music, and read on. Flames will be cheerfully ignored. All compliments, of course, will be graciously accepted. **** Classification: Humor, Vignette, MSR Rating: NC-17 (well, *duh!!*) Summary: Mulder and Scully have sex. (What were you expecting, a plot or something? ) Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to us. Oops. What I meant to say was, Mulder and Scully belong to each other. Yeah. That's much better. Spoilers: None. This is just sex. If you haven't figured that out by now, you may need professional intervention. Enjoy! ***** Mulder thrashed around helplessly on his couch. Unfortunately, the bloody thing was too small to allow him to thrash around in a really satisfying fashion. In fact, all he could really muster was kind of a rolling motion before his face smacked into the back of the stained, cracked leather which smelled uncomfortably of beer and, well.... What the hell. He was a lonely man. There were other smells too, but he preferred not to dwell on them for too long. To make everything worse, it was about 1000 degrees in his cramped little apartment. The air conditioning had expired horribly earlier that afternoon, as it always did in fanfic right before a really steamy sex scene, and no amount of kicking or swearing had made any impact on the ratty little window unit. He'd left the window open in a futile attempt to draw a breeze, but all it did was make the ragged old "X" tape on the pane flap dejectedly in the fetid August Alexandria air. Mulder was thrashing around because, as usual, he was thinking about his diminutive partner. He often thought about Scully, especially at night, especially in summer, and especially when the smell emanating from his couch reminded him it had been *way* too long since he'd gotten any. God. Why the hell couldn't he get her out of his mind? Could it be the subtle scent of her strawberry shampoo? Or maybe it was melon -- he wasn't sure. Or the fetching way she looked in one of his shirts, although he couldn't for the life of him remember how she'd ended up wearing them? Could it simply be the deep azure of her eyes, the fire of her hair, the platform shoes she wore to fake another couple of inches? It was impossible to tell. Whatever the bewitchment, the fact was that Scully had insinuated herself into his heart -- well, maybe not exactly his heart, maybe it was actually a little lower, but what the hell, close enough -- over the last five seasons, and this despite the annoying lack of cooperation from a couple of extremely anally retentive script writers. Not that he really cared all that much what it was that drew him to her. It was karma. Or was it fate? Something like that. He just knew that she occupied every square inch of his brain, as well as a few other measurable parts. He wanted her, and he wanted her bad. There was a knock on the door suddenly, startling Mulder out of his reverie. He stopped breathing for a second. Then he started again. He hated when he stopped breathing, even if it was just for a second. It was so hard on the lungs. It was her. He knew it. When there was a knock on the door, it was always Scully. Well, either that or it was the guy from Pizza Hut. Or the guy from Hing's Chinese Dynasty Restaurant. Damn it all to hell, but they made the best egg rolls. His stomach growled. He was hungry all of a sudden. He waited. If it was Scully, she would use her key if he didn't answer right away. She had this annoying habit of doing that. It wasn't like he had given her the spare key so that she could just walk right in whenever she felt like it. It was for emergencies. For a moment, there was silence. No key in the lock. Mulder valiantly tried to remember if he had ordered food. It was too hard to remember. When he thought about Scully, he forgot all about food, along with everything else. Like that time -- well, it happened more than once -- he was trying to apprehend some suspect in some case and thought about Scully and dropped his gun. Scully thought he was a klutz. Which, as it happened, was true. So. Was it her, or was it Memorex? The key turned in the lock. So it *was* her. Mulder shifted on the couch. This could be interesting. "Pizza!" Light exploded into the room as the door swung open and Mulder distinctly heard a boyish giggle. Christ. Mulder yelped and almost fell off the couch. Son of a bitch. He'd completely forgotten that he'd given Raoul the key in lieu of a tip the last time he'd had pizza delivered. Of course, that wasn't all he'd given him. But that was a slash story and frankly had no place in this particular narrative. He expelled a breath. "Not now, Raoul. I..." "You're what, Mulder?" And there she was. She walked in right behind Raoul. The lovely, enigmatic, incredibly well endowed Agent Dana Katherine Scully. Christ. How was he supposed to think when she looked like that? Actually, she looked like she always did. She was wearing one of her trademark tan suits. Or maybe she was wearing jeans and one of those v-necked cardigans with buttons down the front. It was pale green. Or pale blue. Whichever one best set off her eyes. She wore those cardigans a lot. Mulder often wondered if she had any other casual clothes. He knew that for a long time she was only making half as much as he was, but she should still be able to afford a little more variety in her wardrobe. Although, he mused idly, her wardrobe *had* improved quite a bit since they had started working together. At least she wasn't wearing that hideous gray suit she wore in the pilot. It was a moot point. Whatever she was wearing, he was entranced. Enthralled. Mesmerized. Obsessed. Mulder heard another giggle. Fuck. Raoul was still there. Blocking his view of the oh-so-incredibly stunning Agent Scully. "You ordered a pizza, Fox?" Raoul practically chortled. "You know, Mulder, you really need to eat better. All this pizza and Chinese food is really bad for you," Scully noted, even though she hardly *ever* ate anything in fanfic and wasn't really one to talk. "I can't help it. I don't have a kitchen anymore. It disappeared after the first season." Mulder grimaced once and rose, his back creaking. One of these days he really really really had to get a bed already. Oy. "Whatever." Scully pursed her lips and shrugged as she walked into the room, strolled over to the couch and plopped down with a sigh after crinkling her nose and sniffing dubiously for a second. Mulder winced. One of these days he really really really had to get the fucking thing cleaned or something. He turned back to Raoul. "Um..." "Yes, Agent Mulder?" The fetchingly cafe-au-lait delivery boy batted his eyelashes at him. "Not now." "Huh?" "Um... now's not a good time, Raoul. Really. I mean it." The young man scowled petulantly, threw down the box with a harrumph and pirouetted out the door, muttering a string of Spanish expletives as he went. Scully heaved a sigh of relief. "Finally. We're alone." "Alone?" "Yes, Mulder, alone. As in, without anyone else around. Don't you know that I've been trying to get you alone for five years? I don't really care about the X-Files. Remember that night in Oregon when you told me about your sister and your search for the Truth?" Mulder nodded his head dumbly, trying to understand what she was saying. Although she was speaking English, Mulder didn't always understand the language of women. "Fact is, I wasn't really interested in your story. I can't tell you how sexy you looked in the dark with only the moonlight on your face. I was going to take my robe off again but it was damn cold in there. So ever since then, I've been trying to get you alone. But it's never just us. There's always someone else around, have you ever noticed that? Skinner. Cancerman. Your family. My family. A flight attendant. Some alien mutant. It's never just us. And I'm tired of sharing you with all of them. Tired of it, do you understand me?" Mulder stared at her. "So you weren't spying on me?" "Of course not!" Scully laughed scornfully. "Why would I do something like that? It would be such a waste of time. There's nothing to spy on." "All my work," Mulder sputtered. "All the things we've seen. The truths. The lies. There's a deeper meaning to everything, Scully. I thought you shared that belief with me." "Enough shop talk," Scully growled, sounding like a feral animal. "You sound like a broken record, Mulder. Can't you ever find anything new to talk about? Thank God the writers give me all the good lines. That would go a long way towards explaining why I keep winning all the awards. Well, that and my fabulous acting, of course." Mulder cringed. She would bring that up, wouldn't she? The perfect Dana Scully. Perfect in all things except for a breathless lack of tact and an ego the size of Texas. "But all that's beside the point, Mulder." Scully stretched kittenishly and smiled at him, patting the worn and cracked leather by her side. He stared down at her, bemused. "If you don't respect my work, Scully, why the hell are you hanging around?" "Jesus, man. You really are a number one prime doofus, aren't you? Whaddya think?" He recoiled. Only very lightly. After all, she was a damn good-looking woman. "Are you saying you're only interested in my body?" Scully shrugged. "I've seen you naked, Mulder. Several times. You're remarkably... well-endowed." It was true. Well, not so much the well-endowed part, because you really couldn't tell much about a man in a flaccid condition, unfortunately, but if she believed that, who was he to argue with her? Still, it was certainly true that she'd seen him naked more times than was strictly necessary on prime time, although he still wished she'd had a chance to catch an eyeful when he'd worn those tight red Speedos for no one's benefit, apparently, other than Krycek's -- and God only knew that had turned out to be a bad idea, judging by the slew of rather tasteless fan fiction which followed that particular episode. "Like what you've seen, Scully?" Mulder leered at her. Scully guffawed. "Take it easy, Mulder. I've seen better. But not lately. And I'll tell you, after five years of nothing, a girl's gotta get something. So take off your clothes, Mulder." Mulder stared at her. "That's it? Just 'take off your clothes'? Can't you think of anything else to say? Something to get me in the mood? Something about how you've needed me for all these years? That you've been waiting for me to realize how much you love me?" Scully snorted. "I don't *think* so, Mulder. This is about sex. Pure and simple. If you're looking for romance, go check out a Harlequin." Mulder contemplated this for a moment. He really wanted to hate those Harlequins. He did. But the fact was that he had a few boxes of them stashed away in his closet. Books with titles like "Love's Long Long Long Journey" and "Kisses of Really Burning Hot Fire" with pictures of women whose bodices were down low enough to show way more cleavage than was probably legal in most states, and men who wore loincloths and had muscles the likes of which Mulder had never seen. He hated to admit it, but the men with the really long hair, the ones who looked like Fabio, were the ones that made him want to reach for his porno tapes. He really thought that maybe he might be gay, or at the very least bisexual, but now would likely not be the right time to mention that to Scully, since she was in the process of unbuttoning her sweater. Harlequin or Scully. Harlequin or Scully. Hmm. Oh, yeah. Scully. He could read the Harlequin after she'd gone home. Mulder watched, transfixed, as Scully stood up and finished unbuttoning her sweater herself and revealed a leopard print satin bra. "Like it?" she asked Mulder, who didn't quite know how to answer that question without getting smacked. He nodded silently, praying that she'd take it off quickly and end the agony of having to look at it for another moment. "Maybe I should leave it on," she purred. Mulder shook his head back and forth hard enough to allow a few paper clips to come tumbling out of his ears. "Oh, no, Scully, take it off. I can't wait to see you with it off." Scully undid the clasp, which was in the front. Of course it was in the front. All sex scenes had Scully wearing a front clasp bra because Mulder was usually too overcome by his love and passion for her to be able to manage a back clasp without doing some damage to the soft silky fabric. Her breasts swung free like pendulums and Mulder watched them sway back and forth, back and forth. Damn, but they were hypnotic if you stared at them long enough. After a long moment of watching them, Mulder tried to remember where the Dramamine was. If she was going to swing those things around for the next hour or so he was going to need some big time. "I love how you look at me with that look in your eyes," Scully said in a voice that was supposed to be low and seductive but ended up sounding more like a mumble. "What look?" Mulder asked, trying to tear his eyes away from her breasts. Even though they swung like a tree in the wind, they were pretty nice looking. "That look that tells me that you want me. I can tell that you want me, Mulder." "I think I want to lie down," Mulder groaned, feeling a little queasy. "Me too," she sighed happily. "I know you don't have a bed, so I guess we have to do this on the couch, which seems rather appropriate since it appears that you've gotten most of your pleasure there these days." Scully pushed at Mulder's shoulders and pushed him back into the couch cushions, settling her body on his by practically sitting on his lap. "Scully, Scully, Scully," Mulder moaned. "That's right, Mulder; it's me. Not Phoebe, not any of your video vixens, not anyone but me. And you'd better remember it because I want to make sure that you know which name to scream." In spite of his nausea, Mulder felt his main vein stirring and coming to life. He couldn't help it. All this talk of sex and Scully half naked straddling him was making him think that maybe, just maybe, after all these seasons of UST, he was going to get what he had wanted all this time. He prayed that she wasn't going to change her mind. "Mulder, I want you," Scully sighed happily, rubbing the lower half of her body against Mulder's. "I could just stay like this forever. But you know, we've got to get you out of those clothes if we're going to have the mind-blowing sex we've both been fantasizing about." Mulder thought about it for a split second. Yes, he wanted her. He'd be an idiot not to want her. Look at her. She was hot. She was more than hot. Did he love her? Oh, who cared about that? A very hot woman was sitting on him, telling him to get naked, and he was worried about love? "I know what you're thinking, Mulder," Scully announced. "I don't think you do," he answered, hoping that she didn't. "Oh, yes, I do. I can hear your thoughts. Don't you read fanfic? We read each others thoughts all the time." Oh yeah? Mulder thought? He let an image of Skinner run through his mind for a moment -- his broad shoulders, sitting in his big black chair in his office. Mulder thought about unbuttoning that crisp white shirt and... "Mulder," Scully sighed with exasperation. "Can you think about me for just a second? Can you?" "Jesus, Scully, I was just testing you," Mulder groaned. "Test this, Mulder," Scully retorted, and lowered her breasts to his face. And since Mulder had such an oral fixation, he couldn't refuse the offer. He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked, kind of the same way he would suck on a sunflower seed to get the salt off the shell. Scully seemed to like that. She moaned loudly and ground her hips against Mulder's ever growing erection. He had to admit, as much as he was thinking about other things at that moment, he was getting really aroused by her reaction. Oh, yeah. He sure was. It was definitely making his thoughts disappear. Well, everything but what was south of the border. That one particular portion of his anatomy was seemingly coming to life in a really quick way. Scully, being the incredibly perceptive clinical doctor that she was, could sense this, of course, and decided that it was time for some *real* action to begin. "Time to get those clothes off, Ed." "Ed?" Mulder sputtered. "Oops, sorry..." Scully grinned. "That was the last guy I slept with. Never mind that. Get your clothes off, Mulder." Mulder, being putty in Scully's hands, decided to allow her get his shirt off. However, because of the fact that this was going to be entering into very hot NC-17 material any minute, she ripped the shirt off his body, letting buttons fly everywhere, where they clattered on the floor of Mulder's living room. They scattered under the couch, under the coffee table, across the room, onto the carpet... God, that was going to be really annoying to find them all and sew them back on, one by one, Mulder mused. In the meantime, Scully was admiring his fabulously built body -- he had muscles *everywhere*! She was quite thrilled about this, seeing as how her last lover, Ed, was over a year ago and not built all that well. And she was horny, damn it. It had been too long. She never seemed to get any. Let's see. There was that thing with the wacko from the Kindred, but that didn't count because she was hypnotized or something, and threw up afterwards, and there was no consummation anyhow. Then there was Duane Barry, but he didn't really count either. Not unless being tossed into the trunk of her own car counted as foreplay. Besides, at the time, she was pregnant with some other guy's kid, so that one didn't count either. And then there was Ed. Tortured, slightly twisted, and just a little bit more than strange. Scully hadn't really slept with him either. She had kept her pantyhose on, after all, so there was nothing more than a high-voltage kiss in his crummy little apartment, but afterwards everything went black and there was a commercial. So maybe she did sleep with him after all. Who knew? And Mulder -- that bastard got to watch porno tapes with stupid titles like "Alien Probe". She was sure that he had a great collection of steamy videos -- well, that was at least what everyone on the newsgroup kept saying. Which meant that his VCR was likely getting a great workout, along with his right hand. And she, to the best of her knowledge, didn't even *have* a VCR. Hell, she wasn't sure that she even had a TV, for that matter. It kept appearing and disappearing through the seasons -- only staying long enough to serve a plot purpose, and then conveniently disappearing again. But back to the matter at hand. She looked down at Mulder, considered the possibilities, and decided that five years with very very very little sexual activity was enough for her. That was it. She was going to have him. Scully lowered her head and tugged at his belt with her teeth -- a technique that seemed to work well in fanfic but actually got her nowhere. It simply left little teethmarks in the leather and made her jaw ache. Beneath her, Mulder moaned. Idiot, she thought. I haven't even done anything yet. She then tried the belt with her fingers, unbuckling it with much more success. "Lift up those hips, FBI man," she cooed, and he obeyed. She unzipped his jeans and pulled them down over his ass and left them bunched around his thighs. "Hey, Scully, those are awfully tight. I mean, maybe you could pull them down a little farther? I don't want to lose the circulation in my legs, you know." "Yeah, yeah, whatever," Scully muttered, now pulling down his boxers. And then, it happened. Mulder's eagerly bobbing penis was free, pointing straight up at her, and she broke into a huge smile. Thank God! She recognized it at once. She had been almost afraid that she didn't remember what the damn things looked like anymore. "Yes, Scully," Mulder gasped as she grabbed a hold of it with her small hand. Her grip was just as he had expected it would be -- firm yet gentle, soft yet demanding. It was amazing, when it came down to it, how many adjectives he could come up with to describe how it felt to have Scully's hand wrapped right around the one part of his anatomy that was still conscious. His legs were, of course, just as he had expected, numb from the tightness of his jeans around his thighs, but he really, really REALLY didn't care at that point. He knew what was coming. So to speak. He knew that Scully's hot, wet little mouth was going to come down and wrap itself around his cock, and he was going to die a happy man. He felt her breath, her hot breath, breathing right on him, and he twitched in response. Scully giggled. Oh God in heaven, he was going to really and truly die. God help him if he died before she did it. And then she did do it. Her mouth surrounded him, completely, and then... "OW!!!!" Mulder yelped, bucking up on the couch, and throwing Scully almost completely off of him. Her teeth had nipped just a *little* too hard. Mulder moaned, not from happiness and joy but from pain and agony, and he clutched himself, wrapping his own hands around himself. And then he realized something. His hands were awfully nice. They were firm yet gentle. Soft yet demanding. Hm. This posed an interesting possibility. "Mulderrrrrrr!" Scully wailed. "No!!!" "Why not?" he asked. "Because you'll ruin it for me," she whined. "One little mistake and you're back to using your own hands to pleasure yourself?" "It won't ruin it for you, Scully. ons of fanfic stories have me getting myself off, and you always seem to enjoy it." "Not. In. This. One." Scully's voice sounded very, very angry. "Oh," Mulder said softly, sadly. He *knew* that he wasn't going to get any. "Now on the other hand, if I were to do the same thing to myself, that would be a whole other story. Fanfic thrives on having you watch me, and then after I come, you usually fuck me and it's fabulous. Whaddya say?" Mulder contemplated this for a moment. It sounded good. He could watch Scully do something he had never seen -- well, unless you counted the sixty or seventy million times he had seen her do it in other fanfic stories -- and then he could shoot his lifestream into her warm, moist cavern of love. Her vault. Her hot box. Whatever. He liked the sound of this more and more. "OK," he said. Without further prompting, Scully pulled off her pants. Mulder didn't notice what kind they were. Maybe they were jeans. Maybe they were khaki cotton pants (although he doubted that -- he didn't think it was her style). Most likely, they were leggings, since that was what Scully usually wore in sex scenes in fanfic. As usual, she pulled off her matching leopard skin panties with the leggings. Why did she do this? Because it was easier to have her take both layers off at once. Once you've written a sentence about "peeling off those leggings" it was difficult to say "and then she peeled off her panties" as well. Didn't have a lot of literary punch. It was too repetitive. So, Scully peeled off both her leggings and her panties at the same time, breaking up what would have been a very boring paragraph about the use of repetition in fanfic. The leggings and the panties got tossed onto the floor, scattering the buttons even more. Mulder tried not think about them. He was going to have to take the shirt to a *really* good tailor to get it repaired. Scully leaned back on the couch, closed her eyes and spread her legs, pushing her hand between them, moaning loudly. Hm. Mulder had expected her to sound a lot more...exciting. Instead, she simply sounded like a braying hyena. He suppressed a giggle. She looked and sounded pretty silly. Then she screamed, kind of softly, and sighed, taking her hand from between her legs and pushed it up to Mulder's nose. He pulled his head back. "What are you doing?" "Well, it was good for me. Feel like licking my fingers?" Mulder was astonished. "You...couldn't have come that quickly, Scully. You couldn't have!!" She nodded proudly."Trust me, Mulder, after five years, I got to know exactly what I like. It doesn't take me long." "But it hardly took you a minute! That's impossible!" Scully shrugged. "Whatever. When we fuck, you know that even though it's not completely plausible for a woman to come from *just* intercourse, I'll come again. I always do in fanfic." Mulder nodded eagerly. At least when they fucked, he knew that *he* would come. That much was certain. He was getting excited again. "OK, let's do it." So they got down to it. Of course, Mulder slipped into her in one, smooth, easy stroke. Of course, Scully fit him like a warm, snug glove. And of course, they both sighed happily once Mulder was firmly imbedded in her. Of course, they had fantasized about this very moment for years and in countless other smut pieces. It was just as they had expected it to be. Perfect. And there they were. They fit together perfectly, like two pieces from a set of Legos. Mulder pondered, for a very brief moment, why he didn't have Legos when he was a child. All he and Samantha had was Stratego. He would have loved to have had Legos -- everyone on the Vineyard had them but him. He had spent almost a year in therapy trying to deal with the fact that he didn't grow up with the little colored plastic pieces. And now all he could think about was heading over to the local Toys 'R Us to pick up a few sets. Maybe he could build a fire station. Oops. Scully was moaning underneath him, the leather of the sofa creaking as she rocked, and Mulder realized that he'd better focus on the matter at hand. So he did what he did best in NC-17 fanfic -- which meant that he did the following: -- he gasped appropriately, in sync with Scully's moans -- he pumped in and out of her like a jackhammer -- he loved the sound of their bodies slapping against each other and, most importantly, he *of course* made Scully come repeatedly, the spasming of her tight walls causing him to come more forcefully than he ever had in his life. They both screamed and wailed and clutched at each other as they shared the most important moment of their lives. What a feeling! Mulder oohed and aahed, and Scully did the same. It was, without a doubt, the very very very best sex they had both ever had in their entire lives. Of course. So, when it was over, Mulder pulled out of Scully, gently, of course, because he didn't want to hurt her, and even though he was gentle, Scully still gasped as he did (likely from the fact that she didn't want the physical contact with him to end, which was always the case in fanfic -- and all this despite the fact that they were likely going to do the wild thing many many more times in other smut stories). "So now what, Mulder?" "We should likely hold each other close and talk about how we love each other, and how much we've waited for this for so long, and how now that we have it, that we're going to have sex all the time, only this time during stories that have actual plots. And then we should talk about getting married, and having Skinner be my best man, because he's going to fall in love with your mother. It's just a shame that Melissa got killed off, because you have no friends to speak of on the show and I have no idea who the hell you'll get to be your maid of honor." Then Mulder had to take a very deep breath, because after all, that was a very long speech. He was usually inclined to give long speeches, except they were usually voice-overs that made very little or no sense and annoyed the viewers because they only got to hear his voice and not see his luscious body. "But Mulder, don't you think we should talk about that in the sequel?" Scully brought this up only because she was, after all, very perceptive, and after all, this particular fanfic was only supposed to be about them having sex and not having some heavy emotional conversation. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that," Mulder admitted. He had forgotten that this was supposed to be a smut piece and not some big heavy emotional angst piece. That would have to wait until the authors had more time to write something else. "So maybe we should have sex again?" he asked with a devilish grin. Scully smiled back and nodded. After all, tomorrow was another day...and held promises of more MSR fanfic. END