Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 1/? 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
The screen in the basement office showed four corpses.  All naked.  
All smiling.   
 
Two couples.  Four people mysteriously dead, allegedly natural 
causes--they'd starved to death in homes well stocked with food, no 
snow on the ground, and no reason to have died.  They were also 
naked, wearing blissful smiles and had clearly been engaged in 
serious hanky panky before starvation had rendered them too weak 
to continue. 
 
"Death by love."  Staring at the screen, Mulder grinned, cracked a 
sunflower seed with his teeth.  "They did it until they dropped, 
Scully." 
 
Scully gave him the look that had earned her the name of Ice Queen.  
"This doesn't make sense, Mulder," she told him, shaking her head in 
annoyance.  "What did your informant say?" 
 
"He said that this was a case I had to take," he told her helpfully.  
"That's all I know.  But both couples--three of the four worked at 
Verlaine Perfumes as chemists." 
 
Scully frowned, looking at the screen.  Maybe she had PMS, he 
thought and looked away quickly before she could divine the thought.  
She had a knack for that, which generally got him in trouble.  "They 
look awfully happy for people who starved to death.  Maybe it was 
some strange religious rite?" 
 
Mulder rolled his eyes.  "Maybe.  But I hope I have a smile like that 
on my face when I go.  Anyway, it gets weirder.  One of the 
secretaries at Verlaine was arrested last night for rape.  A proper 
middle-aged matron went into the grocery store and had an orgy with 
the bag boys.  Most of whom are under eighteen, and four of whom 
are under sixteen."  He gave her a crooked grin.  "There were eleven 
of 'em, Scully.  Lucky kids, I never had customers like that when I 
worked at the drugstore in Chilmark."  Another Ice Queen look.  
"According to the police reports, she also got it on with the arresting 
officers, was taken to the hospital and put under psychiatric 
observation where she was observed doing the wild thing with two 
orderlies, a buxom blonde nurse, and the doctor who interviewed her.  
Strike you as strange?"   
 
Now Scully only looked perplexed, not annoyed.  "Mulder, none of this 
makes sense.  The arresting officers?" 
 
"Yeah, they read her her rights, and then they made the beast with 
three backs."  He shrugged.  "Or four, I think her husband claimed to 
be exhausted by then." 
 
Her eyes widened.  He grinned again.  "Come on, we're going out to 
Verlaine Perfumes, I've made an appointment with,"  he lifted the 
scrap of paper in his hand and peered at it in the near-dark, "A Dr. 
Veblein."  He snickered.  "Thorstein Veblein." 
 
That got him another look.  Definitely PMS.  "Mulder," she began, in 
that Mulder-don't-waste-my-time tone that boded no good. 
 
"Hey, it's a nice day, let's get out of the office."  Turning on his best 
sad puppy look, he waited until he got a grudging nod and reached 
for his overcoat.  "If for no other reason than to meet a chemist 
named Veblein." 
 
Scully reached for her coat.  "Probably an act of rebellion."  
 
Mulder grinned until he remembered those four puzzling corpses, so 
serene, so blissfully happy in death.  "Yeah." 
 
 
Veblein was like every caricature of a mad scientist come to life in 
appearance; he bore an uncomfortable resemblance to Marty 
Feldman in his role as Igor in Young Frankenstein, but wasn't nearly 
as funny.   And he didn't have a hump.  He did, however, have a 
secretary born to give a man wet dreams.... 
 
Scully caught him staring as the young woman led them into 
Veblein's office, and kicked him surreptitously on his shin, glaring at 
him ferociously until he found something else to look at.  Veblein 
would have to do. 
 
Veblein was notably unhelpful. 
 
"At least four of your best chemists have recently died, Dr. Veblein."  
Mulder lifted one eyebrow.  "Don't you find that peculiar?  Particularly 
given the way they died?"  He made a helpful, slightly suggestive 
motion with his hands. 
 
Veblein arched an eyebrow right back at him.  "Of course, Agent 
Mulder.  I'm shocked--but their deaths have nothing to do with our 
new fragrance." 
 
He opened his mouth to speak again, but Scully gave him a quelling 
look.  Definitely PMS.  "What exactly is this fragrance based on, Dr. 
Veblein?  The advertising gives the impression that you've used 
human pheromones."  Her tone suggested what she thought of such 
a suggestion.  "However, I doubt that human receptors allow us to 
react to human pheromones." 
 
Veblein smiled.  "Of course, we don't react as we would have, oh, say 
in the dawn of time, Agent Scully.  But in our sanitized society, it 
only takes a little to bring on, shall we say, a primitive response.  
Come, I'll show you."  He rose and Mulder realized he wasn't any 
taller than Marty Feldman had been, either. 
 
He grinned.   
 
"I'd like that," Scully said and gave Mulder a narrow look, her very 
best Make My Day look.  He, in turn, put on his most innocent 
expression and followed her out of Veblein's office, down the corridor 
and into the lab. 
 
Of course, they had to put on lab coats, and Scully looked like a little 
girl playing dressup in the one size fits all.  *He* on the other hand, 
looked like an underpaid hospital orderly with his wrists and 
shirtsleeves hanging out of the sleeves.  He darkly suspected Veblein 
of intentionally making him look ridiculous, but held his peace as they 
wandered through the lab. 
 
He knew basic chemistry well enough, but the terms Veblein and 
Scully tossed about went over his head, not an easy thing to do, and 
it left him feeling restless.  Moving away from the two of them, 
presently standing near a woman carefully measuring drops of 
something into a bigger beaker of something else, he wandered over 
to an intimidating door with an air lock.  The window beside the door 
showed an ordinary lab room, table, a few chairs, polished steel 
counters.  And what looked like an oversized safe--a funny thing to 
have in a perfumery, he thought and turned to Veblein.  "What's back 
here?" 
 
Veblein's smile grew toothier, almost wolfish.  "Ah, that room holds 
our secret, Agent Mulder.  The essence of desire--would you like to 
see it?" 
 
"Certainly," Scully agreed and gave Mulder a grudging smile of 
approval.  For what, he didn't know, but he was glad she'd calmed 
down. 
 
Veblein turned the airlock, his face going a little red with the effort.  
"Can I help you?" Mulder asked solicitously, biting back a smile. 
 
Those grey eyes came back to him, more than a little annoyed.  "I've 
got it, thank you."  But Veblein sounded a little out of breath.  The 
door swung open slowly, then hung steady on its own weight, 
perfectly balanced and he went in ahead of them, all but strutting 
over to the safe to punch numbers into the pad. 
 
The red lights on the pad blinked and went green simulataneously.  
"High tech setup for perfume," Mulder murmured, moving past his 
partner. 
 
"Industrial espionage, you idiot," she murmured back. 
 
He rolled his eyes.   
 
The interior of the safe held a number of racks, all holding a number 
of vials.  And in the back was a sealed canister, the pressurized kind.  
Vebelin regarded it with pride.  "Twenty years of work, my friends, 
and I have perfected the use of human pheromones."  He brushed 
trembling fingertips over the canister.  "They laughed at me in the 
beginning, but our human volunteers have reacted--quite 
satisfactorily." 
 
"Love potion number 9?"  Mulder arched his eyebrows again and bit 
back another smile at Veblein's irritation.  Scully gave him a tolerant 
look, as if she hadn't expected anything better--or maybe had 
expected something worse. 
 
"No, no, no, of course not.  Nothing can take away human volition.  
But if someone is attracted already--ah, the object of their attraction 
appears--irresistable."  Veblein's smile returned, all teeth, reminding 
Mulder uneasily of the Big Bad Wolf.  "Now, these vials are much less 
powerful, fragrance base has already been added--a little stronger 
than perfume.  Would you like to smell just a little bit, Agent Scully?" 
 
Scully flicked him a warning look, shrugged and nodded. 
 
Chuckling under his breath, Veblein took one of the smaller vials.  
"This is the weakest mix, I think that should be safe enough."  A quick 
look at Mulder from under bushy silver brows.  "Agent Mulder, you 
aren't attracted to your partner, are you?  Heh, heh, I wouldn't want 
anything--ah, inappropriate to happen."  His teeth weren't like 
Feldman's, they were more like a shark's.  Or maybe the wolf analogy 
was best.  One member of the animal kingdom at a time. 
 
Although this time he'd hit Mulder where it hurt.  Looking at Scully, he 
considered...oh, boy, he was damned if he did and damned if he 
didn't on this one.  "Agent Scully is a very attractive woman," he 
finally temporized, uneasily aware of her gaze.  "But we're partners, 
nothing inappropriate is going to happen." 
 
Scully snorted.  Whew, he'd managed that one by the skin of his 
teeth.  Barely.  There was a glint in her eye that told him she 
recognized his waffling, but it was good humored.  At least. 
 
The lid of the vial had a glass stem on the lid; Veblein, with an air of 
hushed reverence more appropriate to a cathedral than a perfumery, 
gently brushed this across the inside of Scully's wrist and capped it.  
"That one is for the ladies," he said genially and his eyes traveled up 
and down Scully's figure again.  Then, with another of those toothy 
smiles, he turned back to Mulder.  "Agent Mulder, willing to take the 
chance?" 
 
Mulder gave him a toothy smile in return.  "I don't wear perfume." 
 
"Ah, but we have a very nice men's fragrance as well."  Quick as 
thought, Veblein replaced the first vial and extracted another, opening 
it to reveal the same type of stem.  Before Mulder could protest--not 
that he would with Scully giving him that sardonic look--Veblein 
brushed it under his chin.   
 
He sniffed experimentally.  A hint of musk, a hint of citrus, something 
a little spicy...."Nice."  Scully held her wrist up for him to smell, her 
expression amused.  He liked hers better.  "Very nice." 
 
Veblein's smile grew toothier--he hadn't thought that possible.  "So 
you see, there is nothing here at all dangerous." 
 
Mulder frowned faintly; it was apparently true.  Still-- 
 
"Would it be possible for us to have a sample of the pheromone 
mixture?" Scully asked, "Just a small sample, Dr. Veblein, and we'll 
destroy it when we're finished." 
 
Veblein looked appalled, his smile vanishing.  "But it's our secret, I'm 
afraid I can't do that." 
 
"We could get a warrant," Mulder suggested mildly, almost hoping.  
Veblein was beginning to rub him the wrong way.  Maybe he'd been 
crazy--this guy didn't have enough juice to develop something as 
potentially lethal as--as whatever it was he'd been imagining. 
 
"Let's not make that necessary."  Scully smiled at the good doctor.  
"Just a small sample, Dr. Veblein.  If you prefer, I'll return what's left 
when we've finished it." 
 
Veblein's eyes rested on her for a moment, but Mulder thought he 
saw a glint in the man's eyes that had less to do with reluctance than 
with amusement.  "Well, I suppose I have no real choice, do I?"  All 
his good cheer had vanished.  Turning back to the safe, he reached 
back, extracting an even smaller vial, which he carefully placed in a 
small, styrofoam box.  No environmental concerns for this guy. "This 
has just been refined.  I would appreciate it if you returned whatever 
is not ruined by your testing--I may be able to salvage it." 
 
Scully accepting the box.  "Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. 
Veblein," she told him crisply.  "Mulder?" 
 
"Yes, thank you, Dr. Veblein," he agreed and moved toward the open 
airlock door. 
 
Veblein's smile returned.  "Of course.  Oh, wait, don't go yet, you 
were both so kind about humoring an old man's passion for his work, 
I'd like to give you a token of thanks.  Some samples for both of you." 
 
Mulder looked at Scully, shrugged.  "We aren't supposed to accept 
gifts, Dr. Veblein." 
 
Scully had followed him out of the room, paused and gave him 
another look he couldn't decipher.  "I think a few samples are 
acceptable, Mulder," she muttered. 
 
"Nothing valuable," Veblein said, hurrying after them.  "I keep them in 
my office for the clerical staff.  They work so very hard, you know, 
and I'm afraid we take shameless advantage of them."   
 
He led the way back to his office and Mulder again paused to regard 
the statuesque brunette at the front desk.  *He'd* certainly like to 
take advantage of *her*, he thought and shook his head.  It was a 
little warm in the office; he'd be glad to get outside and in cool 
November air again. 
 
Dr. Veblein filled their hands with those little plastic tubes of 
fragrance Mulder had been throwing away for years, and sent them 
off looking sadly at the small styrofoam case carrying the sample. 
 
 
Neither one of them saw him smile toothily at the car as it pulled out 
of the parking lot.   Oh, that had been close, but he'd taken care of it.  
He doubted he'd see them again, let alone the sample, but that was 
just the way he wanted it..... 
 
 
It was hot in the car.   Running a finger inside his collar, Mulder rolled 
the window down to let some of the heat out and the cool in.   
 
Of course, it wouldn't be hot in the car if Scully didn't insist on turning 
the heat to full blast.  If she'd wear a skirt that covered more of her, 
she wouldn't be so cold all the time.  On the other hand, those little 
rounded knees were so damned sexy--appalled, he looked out the 
window again.  "Um, Scully, how are you feeling?" 
 
She flicked him a look.  Oops, she was mad at him again for 
something.  Distracted from her knees, he cast his mind over his 
behavior at the perfumery and couldn't find a single thing he'd done 
that would trip her trigger.  She *must* have PMS.  Women with PMS 
were supposed to feel very horny.  He wondered if Scully was feeling 
horny. 
 
"Scully?"  He tried again, ran his finger uselessly under his collar.  
Nope, no good.  Loosen the tie, open the first button on his collar.  
There, he was feeling better again, feeling like himself.  Those little 
rounded knees didn't stir the faintest interest in him to see what was 
higher up, the satiny pale skin of her upper thighs..... 
 
Ohmigod, this stuff really worked.  He tried to distract himself from 
wondering if she was wearing panty hose or stockings by theorizing 
what an analysis of the sample would reveal.  "Scully?" 
 
"Shut up, Mulder."  Her voice was taut.  Her breast rose and fell each 
time she took a breath.  In his experience, red heads usually had the 
palest coral nipples....ohmigod, he was in real trouble.  He had to 
stop thinking about his partner this way.  Had to. 
 
And he was getting an erection.  Looking down to confirm this, he 
saw that Sparky had, indeed, woken up and drew his overcoat 
nervously around him.  Scully was breathing awfully quickly, she must 
be getting ready to lose her temper for real--brace for the fallout, 
Mulder, he told himself, but nothing happened. 
 
So he looked out the window again, breathing in deep gulps of fresh 
air.  It helped.  But only a little.  Sparky uncoiled further, making him 
shift uncomfortably. 
 
He tried thinking of Tooms, tearing out *his* liver.  It helped a little 
more.  Tried to think about Tooms after they squashed him under the 
escalator.   A little more.  He began to relax, thinking he might get 
through this trip back to the office without a) making an ass of 
himself and b) in one piece, because he thought if she got a look at 
his erection in her present mood, she'd rip it off him. 
 
That notion cooled him further.  More gulps of fresh air, clear the 
head, Mulder, don't do anything rash, and for godssake, don't lean 
over and breath in her scent.  Whoops, bad thought, bad, bad 
thought--Sparky stretched out again. 
 
"Mulder, are you all right?"  Still clipped, but she was looking at him 
with some concern. 
 
He essayed a wan smile.  "Fine, Scully.  I get car sick once in a 
while." 
 
She gave him a dubious look.  "Car sick?  You've never gotten car 
sick in all the time I've known you" 
 
"Trust me on this one, Scully.  I'm car sick." 
 
Looking at her was pure torture.  Smelling her was worse--the 
perfume was delicate, light, but underneath he could smell something 
that smelled like--Scully.  Her skin.  Her juices.  With a faint moan, 
he put his face out the window again, deep breaths, deep breaths--
think of multiplication tables, Mulder, think of long division, think of 
taxes..... 
 
Somehow, they made it back to the office without her noticing his 
condition.  Her mood, if anything, had grown worse.  Following him 
in, she slammed the door, making him jump. 
 
Buttoning his overcoat, he turned to face her.  "Um, Scully, I'm not 
feeling too good, I think I need to go home.  Maybe you could get 
that sample down to Pendrell, see what they can make of it down 
there." 
 
"Fuck Pendrell."  She tore her coat off, letting it drop to the floor.  
"What are you hiding under that coat, Mulder." 
 
He backed up against the desk, stunned.  "Um, nothing--Scully, why 
are you taking off your jacket?  Ohmigod, what are you doing?" 
 
"What I should have done a long time ago, Fox Mulder," she told him 
and slipped her blouse off. 
 
You've seen her in her underwear, he told himself desperately, this is 
no big deal....but Sparky thought so, evidently, because he twitched 
desperately. 
 
The skirt followed the blouse and jacket and--oh, god, she *was* 
wearing a garter belt, delicate little rosette at the center, below her 
belly button.   Her bra fell to the floor; his jaw fell, period.   
 
Yup, pale coral nipples, all crinkled up and glad to see him....he 
moaned.  The panties went, too, and he couldn't take his eyes off the 
curls at the base of her belly.  God, she wasn't a natural redhead, he 
was totally crushed....well, not totally....   
 
She strode toward him and grabbed his tie, yanking his face down to 
her.  "You are such a chicken-shit, Mulder," she hissed, "You can 
face liver eating mutants, fat sucking vampires, and you're afraid of 
me?"  Her other hand began on the buttons of his coat. 
 
"I'm not afraid of you, Scully," he squeaked, mesmerized by the 
shape of her mouth.  "I'm afraid of me." 
 
She fumbled with his belt, unzipped him so fast that she almost did 
him serious injury, reached into his shorts and pulled Sparky free.  
"Hah."  Leaning forward, she pushed him backward on his own desk.   
 
His cock bobbed upright delightedly and he groaned when she 
climbed aboard, sans panties.   
 
Scully grasped his cock and gently squeezed it.  "This isn't afraid of 
me," she told him smugly and bent over to reach into his desk 
drawer.  "I know you have some in here, Mulder, I've seen them." 
 
A nipple hovered over his mouth.  What could a man do?  Opening 
his mouth, he took it in, sucking on it.  It was a small sop to his pride 
that she gasped and squirmed; when she pulled free, he whimpered, 
his hands running up and down that, oh, god, that silky skin on her 
belly, on the undersides of her breasts. 
 
"There."  Triumphant, she sat up, holding a small, foil wrapped 
package.  "I knew you had some in there." 
 
Oh.  Yeah.  Condoms.  Why the hell did he have them in there?   
 
Oh, yeah, a while back, he and Kitty Lakin from accounting had done 
the wild thing afterhours down here.  He'd better not mention that to 
Scully, not while she was unrolling the condom over him.  Oh, 
manomanomanoman, her hands felt so incredible, he was going to 
have to try quadratic equations to last long enough to do her any 
good.  
 
Straddling him, Scully gave him a creamy smile.  Moaning, he ran his 
fingers up the insides of those thighs, just as pale and satiny as he'd 
imagined; and she was wet, oh, god, was she wet--drawing his finger 
through the silky folds, he moved up to find the small nub of her 
clitoris, rearing out from under its hood to greet him. 
 
In one swift move, she lowered herself, a shock of pleasure that 
completely obliterated any sanity he had left.  Surging upward, he 
thrust into her fully, sinking home with a groan that--oh god--made 
him hope no one else was in the basement today.  He stroked her, 
leaned up to take one coral nipple in his mouth, suckling it until she 
moaned and tightened above him.   
 
Okay, let's see X+Y-3 = X-Y+6.  That leads to X+Y = X-Y+3--
ogodogod, this was sooo good, he couldn't believe he'd worried about 
this, she was so slick and tight, he could feel her heat through the 
latex.  Oh, shit, where was he?  Was he doing these right?  X+Y -3 = 
X-Y?  No, that wasn't right, oh the hell with it.... 
 
Grasping Scully's hips, he surged in, backthrust, surged in again, his 
breath coming in sobbing gasps.  She rode him hard, head tilted 
back, face effortful, bracing herself on her chest.  "Oh, God, Mulder--
" she whimpered, "Oh, God, fuck me hard, make me come....." 
 
He was doing his best.  "God, Scully, don't move," he said, so near 
the edge he was afraid that one more bounce was going to make him 
come and then she really *would* shoot him.  "Just...just for a 
minute."  He stroked her clitoris, oh, god it was so sweet and hot, he 
was going to die..... 
 
She looked down at him, her face taut.  "I can't stop," she moaned, 
"Oh, God, Fox, just come for me, come with me--"  And tilted her 
head back, gasping.  She tightened on him almost unbearably, 
pleasurable pain, his balls drew up and....ofuckofuck, he was coming 
and coming inside her, pumping rapidly in and out as she cried out 
her own pleasure, shuddering against his fingers, against his cock.... 
 
She sank down on his chest, red hair tickling his chin, the light scent 
of Veblein's perfume wafting up under his nose....   
 
Holy shit, he'd just fucked his partner.  His partner.  And it was 
gooooood--he was in real trouble now.  But he wasn't sure why. 
 
After a while, she raised up to look at him.  "Honest to God, Mulder," 
she sighed, "You're such a wimp sometimes." 
 
"Am not."  He gently tweaked a nipple, watched it crinkle up again. 
 
"Are too."  She gave him an accusatory look.  "You were going to go 
home and choke the chicken in front of one of your sleazy videos 
instead of taking the chance on a real, live woman."    
 
When he made no protest against this charactertization, she arched 
a brow at him sardonically and peeled herself off him, making him 
groan.  Sparky sagged back on his belly, thoroughly content.   
 
"I guess I'd better get that sample to Pendrell," she told him. 
 
He leaned up on one elbow.  "And how.  That stuff is amazing, 
Scully." 
 
Her eyes glinted at him briefly before she turned and gave him a 
breathtaking view by bending over to retrieve her panties.  Oh, man, 
she hadn't even taken off her shoes--somehow, he'd never thought of 
Scully's shoes as fuck-me pumps, but wow.   
 
"Mulder, I hate to tell you this, but I've been wanting to get inside 
your pants for a long time.  It didn't take human pheromones from a 
perfume bottle, believe me." 
 
"Scully," he sat up, regarding the condom with bemusement, "What 
do you think just happened here?" 
 
"Unresolved sexual tension finally got the better of us and we broke 
the eleventh commandment.  Thou shalt not fuck thy partner."  The 
panties went back on again, covering up what he'd hardly had a 
chance to look at. 
 
"Scully, it was that perfume!"  Disposing of the condom in the 
wastebasket--oh, the maintenance people were going to wonder 
about that--he stood up, trying to straighten his clothes.  He'd never 
even gotten out of his shorts--not that he'd noticed at the time.  "How 
else you can explain it?" 
 
She grinned and bent to pick up the rest of her clothes, derailing his 
train of thought for the next several moments.  "Mulder, for someone 
with your IQ, you can be incredibly dense.  Did you think I didn't 
notice what you were sporting in the car.  Or the way you were 
staring at my chest?  God, I've never felt so hot in my life, you've 
never been so obvious before.  If you want to blame it on the 
perfume, be my guest.  But it was UST, plain and simple."  A smug 
smile brought him back to his original point.  "Dr. Veblein wasn't 
drooling over me." 
 
"Dr. Veblein is a troll," he retorted and tucked his shirt back in.  A 
little rumpled, but he could make it through the rest of the day.  He 
thought.  "I can't believe you aren't accepting this." 
 
"Mulder, all any perfume does is add a little sensory enhancement."  
Another smug, perilously close to a smirk, smile.  The bra went back 
on and he mourned briefly. 
 
Wait.  Veblein.  The perfume.   
 
"Scully, remember the Kindred?  Remember getting ready to do the 
wild thing with a total stranger?  Sound familiar?  Not that we're 
strangers, of course, but we're partners."  He stopped talking, sighed.  
Oooh, there went the blouse, hiding her assets.   
 
Glumly zipping his trousers, he sank back on the desk and watched 
her disappear back into her clothes.  The amazing vanishing Scully.  
The phone rang, jarring him back to reality.  "Mulder." 
 
"Agent Mulder, Assistant Director Skinner would like to see you in his 
office right away."  Kimberly's voice was sympathetic, which meant 
bad news. 
 
"I'll be right up," he sighed and hung up the phone.  "Get that over to 
Pendrell.  I've got to go up for another reaming from Skinner." 
 
Scully shook her head.  "What have you done now?" 
 
"I have no idea."  Raking a hand through his hair, he shrugged, 
paused to fasten his belt and straighten his tie.  "Do I look 
presentable?" 
 
She grinned.  "As presentable as you generally do.  Mulder, if it's any 
consolation to you, remember what Veblein said?  It only enhances 
an attraction that's already there." 
 
He could hear the corollary to that statement.  Just like most perfume 
does.  Sighing, he went to face his fate. 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, please.
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 2/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
When Mulder reached Skinner's office, Kimberly waved him in, but 
not before giving him a peculiarly intense smile.  God, it had to be 
the cologne....nervously, he tapped at Skinner's open door, saw the 
AD on the phone, gesturing brusquely for him to enter. 
 
He did, not without a backward look at Kimberly, still gazing at him in 
that frighteningly speculative fashion. 
 
"I just got a call from the CEO at Verlaine Perfumes, Agent Mulder, 
complaining that you and Agent Scully were out there 'harassing' his 
staff."  Skinner didn't look very pleased.  He didn't sound very 
pleased, either.  "Care to explain why?" 
 
Oh, this was going to be tough.  "There have been some mysterious 
deaths on the staff there," Mulder told him evasively, wondering how 
in the hell he was going to explain his suspicions without having 
Skinner send him for psychiatric evaluation.   
 
Skinner regarded him for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a 
scowl.  "A little more explanation, please, Mulder." 
 
He stared back for a long moment, unaccountably nervous.   
 
Skinner was looking very foreboding today.  Those big hands laced 
together on the front of his desk.  That square jaw set.  Those broad 
shoulders straight.   
 
He cleared his throat.  "Um.  Four of their chemists were found dead 
in their apartments--two lived together, and the other two, one was 
married, one was living with a significant other.  They were dead, 
too." 
 
One of Skinner's eyebrows arched upward.  He stared at it in 
fascination.  It was interesting when Skinner did that.  He wasn't sure 
why, but it was interesting.   
 
Whew, it was hot in here, today, the heating system must be on the 
blink again....  "They, ah, apparently starved to death, sir."  How to 
phrase this delicately?  "They seemed to be having a marathon 
session in the sack."  Not delicate enough.  "And no one stopped to 
eat--er, for food." 
 
The other eyebrow went up.  "Agent Mulder," Skinner said softly.  
"Are you telling me you believe these people--"  He paused, inviting 
comment, his expression one of polite incredulity. 
 
He shifted his weight in the chair.  "Um, yes, sir, it looks like they 
fucked themselves to death."  Nope, definitely not delicate enough.   
 
But instead of finding other words, he  found himself gazing at 
Skinner's forearms, bared by rolled up sleeves.  Nice strong arms.  
Nice strong, hairy arms.  Big hands.  God, it was getting hot in here.  
Really hot.   
 
He ran his finger around his collar, tugged at his tie and suddenly 
froze in horror.  Oh, god, it *was* hot in here.  And getting hotter.  
"Um, sir, are you wearing cologne?" 
 
A quizzical look, but Skinner flushed slightly, gave him a more 
peculiar look, and ignored the question.  "Agent Mulder, you can't 
seriously believe me to accept that there's a case in this?  People kill 
themselves during sex in a variety of ways--but they seldom starve to 
death." 
 
He had to know.  Leaning forward, Mulder took a cautious sniff.   
 
Ohmigod, ohmigod, Skinner *was* wearing cologne.  *The* cologne.  
And it was an incredible turnon, ohshitoshitoshit, Scully said it only 
enhanced attraction, did that mean he was attracted to Skinner?  To 
Skinner? 
 
This coudn't be happening, thank whatever god might exist that 
Scully had just worked him over good, Sparky would behave.  He 
hoped.  But he didn't know how in hell he was going to get used to the 
idea that he was attracted to Skinner.   
 
Some of his panic must have showed in his eyes, because Skinner--
ohshitohshitoshit--came to sit in front of the desk, in the chair beside 
him.  Where Scully usually sat, protecting him.  But she wasn't there.  
Oh shit.  Skinner was there.  Bloody hell.   
 
And he could smell that cologne, could smell Skinner's skin, could 
even smell faintly, the touch of sweat and musk--he panicked, leaning 
to one side--think blood sucking fireflies, fat sucking vampires, a 
piece of piano wire around the neck, X+Y-20=X-Y*2..... 
 
To his horror, Skinner leaned closer to him--sniffing him?  He 
shivered, looked away briefly--ohshitoshitoshit..... 
 
"Agent Mulder, I think you've been working a little too hard."  
Skinner's tone was even, as if he were holding his temper.  Those 
eyebrows drew together again.  "Mulder, you're a little flushed, are 
you sure you're feeling well?" 
 
Mesmerized, Mulder swallowed hard.   
 
That nice square jaw.  Those big, strong arms.   Those big, strong 
hairy arms.  Those nice big hands....No, no, think about quadratic 
equations, dammit.  "Maybe you're right, sir," he agreed hastily, 
panic making him squirm.   
 
No, it wasn't just panic, it was his cock--oh shit, please don't let him 
notice this, if there is a god, please don't let him notice this. 
 
Abruptly, Skinner leaned back, ran a finger under his collar, fiddled 
with the top button of his shirt.  "Does it seem hot in here to you, 
Mulder?" he asked, his tone suddenly distracted. 
 
A little shiver crept up Mulder's spine; his eyes widened.  Ohmigod, it 
was suddenly worse--Skinner was attracted to him, too....what in hell 
was he going to do?   
 
His cock throbbed in his shorts when that burning gaze came back to 
him; he licked his lips.  "Um, yessir, it does seem a little hot, well, if 
that's all you wanted to know, I'd better be going." 
 
"Sit down, Mulder," Skinner told him firmly.  "I haven't finished with 
you, yet."  And stared at him a long, long moment.   
 
He whimpered.   
 
"Agent Mulder, are you sure you're all right?"  Skinner's hand went up 
to his collar, loosened his tie, unfastened the top button.  The top two 
buttons.   
 
Oh, God, he could see just a bit of the hair on Skinner's chest--ooh, 
that big, well muscled chest.....licking his lips again, he tried to find 
something intelligent to say.  But that meant he'd have to locate his 
brain.  And right now, it was easier to stare at Skinner's hands. 
 
Omigod, this was seriously scaring him.... 
 
He pinched himself surreptitiously on the thigh, really, really hard, 
and looked away.  Licked his lips again.  And again.  His mouth was 
dry.  His bones felt like they'd suddenly melted.  He ought to get up 
and run, but.... 
 
One of those big hands came over and turned his face back toward 
Skinner, to meet the intensity of Skinner's gaze.  He shivered. 
 
"Agent Mulder."  Skinner's voice was deceptively gentle.  "Take off 
your clothes." 
 
Ohmigodohmigodohmigod.   
 
"Sir, I think you're feeling some outside influence, the Verlaine 
perfumery is using human pheromones in their cologne.  Are you 
wearing it, by any chance?  It's called Heat?"  He was babbling, 
keeping his eyes away from Skinner's gaze.  From Skinner's body.   
 
From Skinner's well muscled, very sexy body....shitshitshitshit.   
 
Unable to resist, he looked.  Yup, Skinner was sporting a woody.  A 
very big one.  The bastard was really hung, it was enough to give him 
an inferiority complex.  But he still wanted to see it, wanted to touch 
it, wanted to....oh god, oh, god, he had completely lost his fucking 
mind.... 
 
Skinner didn't say anything, just looked at him.   Waiting.  Watching. 
 
Standing up, he took off his jacket and laid it on the chair, nervously 
watching as Skinner smiled with slow, sensual satisfaction.   
 
Tie.  Shirt.  T-shirt.  Belt.  Nope, Skinner wasn't stopping him, and 
Skinner *was* taking off his own clothes.   
 
By the time Mulder got to his shorts and socks, Skinner had moved 
to the door and locked it, humming tunelessly under his breath as he 
turned back toward Mulder.  "Keep going, Agent Mulder." 
 
Keep going?  Oh, yeah, socks, shorts....As he pulled his shorts down, 
Sparky leapt free....oh, god, he was so hard he felt like he was about 
to explode.  For Skinner.   
 
It was almost worse than being kidnapped by aliens.  Hell, it *was* 
worse than being kidnapped by aliens, he wouldn't get it up for 
aliens....he didn't think so, anyway. 
 
Toeing off his socks, he watched apprehensively as Skinner unveiled 
what his trousers and shorts concealed.  Oh, no way, no way--but 
when Skinner beckoned him to the conference table, he went. 
 
"Let's see," Skinner murmured, going back to the desk.  "I know I've 
got some in here, somewhere.  Ah, there we are." He slanted Mulder 
a look.  "Get those heels in the air, Mulder." 
 
Heels in the air?  With that monster cock?   
 
No way, no way, no way--but when Skinner came to the table and 
kissed him--oh, god, he was kissing his boss, rubbing his body up 
against Skinner's, he was a slut, pure and simple, how in hell had he 
escaped the realization until now?  Moaning, he opened his mouth, 
letting Skinner's tongue play tonsil hockey, rubbed his erection on 
Skinner's hip, felt Skinner's on his belly. 
 
"See how nice it is when you cooperate?"  Gently pushing him back, 
Skinner gave him a wicked smile.  "On your back, Mulder." 
 
The table was cold, prickling gooseflesh on his skin.  His nipples 
stood up when Skinner took hold of them and pinched gently.  "Very 
nice nipples," Skinner approved.  "Very nice."  He put one big hand 
between Mulder's legs, stroking the length of Mulder's cock and 
squeezing his balls gently.  "I never realized that you're as attracted 
to me as I am to you, Fox." 
 
He thought about protesting the use of his name, but Skinner nipped 
at his throat, driving that thought right out of his mind.  "Neither did I, 
sir," he answered, his voice faint.   
 
Oh, god, Skinner's hand was big and warm, slightly calloused in 
places, and what he was doing was so fucking incredible it was hard 
to think.  Especially when Skinner leaned forward and sucked on his 
nipples.   
 
Oh, he was a slut, a complete tramp--of their own volition, his legs 
drew up and apart, coming up around Skinner's firm, gorgeous ass.  
His boss was playing with his cock.   
 
If anyone had asked him anytime in the last three years if he could 
imagine Skinner playing with his cock, he'd have had them 
committed.   
 
It was definitely an X-file. 
 
Drawing back, Skinner gave him another wicked smile and produced, 
from out of nowhere, a small bottle of lube.  That, at least, gave him 
some reassurance that Skinner didn't want to hurt him.  But the size 
of that thing--it was going to be like doing squat thrusts on a fireplug, 
and his toes curled at the thought, pure lust making them tighten 
against the soles of his feet.   
 
"Um, sir, I've never done this before," he managed to say, gasping as 
the first slippery finger penetrated him. 
 
That made Skinner smile that slow, sensual way again.  "Really?  A 
virgin?  I thought you went to Oxford, Mulder, don't tell me you never 
got any there?" 
 
"No,sir," he squeaked, gasping again as Skinner's finger gently 
prodded his prostate.  "Oh, my, no, I didn't, sir." 
 
Another finger joined the first, gently working the ring of muscle until 
it loosened a little.  Then, still smiling, Skinner produced, ta da, a 
small square package.   
 
Gee, he'd seen those before, but he'd thought he was the only one to 
have them in his desk.  Skinner had lube and condoms?  The 
possibilities made him shiver.  He was going to have to wear this 
cologne everytime Skinner called him up to ream him verbally.  He'd 
rather get reamed this way instead, at least he'd have fun.....a large 
blunt object prodded his asshole.  
 
"Just relax, Fox," Skinner told him reassuringly.  "It'll all fit in, don't 
worry." 
 
That's what I'm afraid of, he thought and bit his lip as Skinner slid 
part of the way in.  The burning sensation subsided after a moment 
to something else, something that made his legs go around Skinner's 
ass again.  Talk about squat thrusts on fireplugs--"Ohgodohgod," he 
gasped, "Don't, no, wait--"   
 
Panic made him tighten down and Skinner groaned and stopped, one 
hand coming up to cup his cheek.  "It's okay, we'll go slow." 
 
But that something was turning to pleasure.  "No, go on, do it."  He 
gasped again, bit his lip as Skinner slid home; he could feel Skinner's 
balls against his ass, felt Skinner's bush tickle his scrotum.   
 
Oh shit, he was getting fucked by his boss.  Nobody would ever 
believe it.   
 
Not that he planned to tell them.   
 
Sparky was standing almost straight up, like a defiant finger.  Skinner 
grasped him gently and stroked him, making Mulder arch his back 
into that touch.  Verlaine was defnitely going to make money on this 
one--all those people who said, if you could bottle what you've got, 
were in for a surprise.  Verlaine already hard.  Er, had.   
 
Oh, god, Skinner was pulling back, his eyes closed, expression taut 
with lust and pleasure.   "You're so sweet and tight," he murmured, 
"A virgin--Fox, you surprise me." 
 
"Me, too."  He tightened his legs and whimpered, wanting Skinner to 
shove that thing in him again.  Oh, god, what the hell was wrong with 
him, what had gotten into him?  Besides Skinner, of course.... 
 
Skinner obliged, leaning forward to suck on his nipples again. 
Oh, god, he couldn't remember what the normal refractory period 
was before erection and orgasm for a healthy male in his age 
bracket, but he was willing to bet he was about to make history. 
 
"Sir," he whimpered, "It's the cologne."  Not that he cared at this 
moment, but it seemed the thing to say.  A futile effort at keeping 
this interview focused.  Hah, he really had lost his mind. 
 
Skinner stroked in hard, pressing upward and he forgot what he was 
talking about, staring at the ceiling as agonizing pleasure gripped him 
more tightly than Skinner's fist.  Ogodogod, he was going to come 
again, and from the sounds Skinner was making, his missiles were 
about to launch, too....biting his lip, he suddenly realized that he was 
going to look like Skinner hit him in the mouth, reached up and pulled 
Skinner against him to bite his shoulder instead, muffling the cry that 
exploded out of him as his cock began to spurt against both their 
bellies..... 
 
The table was still cold.   
 
And hard, he noticed, breathing raggedly as Skinner drew back, 
running a familiar hand over his hip and belly and cupping his 
scrotum.   He was a tramp, a slut, a--well, whatever he was, he was 
going to have trouble sitting down for a while after this.  Definitely. 
 
Skinner's mouth claimed his for a luxurious moment, until he was 
actually afraid he was going to get hard again.   
 
No, no, he was safe--leaning back, Skinner looked at his watch and 
sighed.  "I've got a meeting in here in twenty minutes, Mulder.  That 
was amazing."  His mouth curved.  "I've got some paper towels in 
here somewhere, we better get cleaned up and dressed again." 
 
Not only had his boss fucked him, but his boss acted as if this was a 
rational, everyday occurrence.   Vertigo struck, as if reality had 
somehow turned upside down in the space of a few moments.  Had 
this really happened, or had he just experienced an extraordinary and 
disturbing hallucination? 
 
Sitting up gingerly--nope, it had really happened, he wasn't going to 
be able to sit down without squirming for a week--he eyed Skinner's 
backside as his boss moved away from him, shivering a little at the 
delicious view.  He wondered if Skinner would let him get inside that 
rock hard, delicious--no, what the hell was he thinking?  "Sir, we've 
both been under the influence of Verlaine's cologne." 
 
Skinner rummaged in his desk again, coming up with a roll of paper 
towels.  Diverted, Mulder wondered what else was in the drawer, but 
shook his head to clear it when Skinner chuckled.  "Mulder, the only 
external influence I noticed was the bulge in your pants." 
 
Had everyone gone insane?  He tried again, his voice plaintive.  "Sir, 
you just fucked me on your conference table, doesn't that seem a 
little unusual to you?" 
 
Skinner returned to wipe him down, still chuckling.  "Mulder, it's 
always unusual to live out a fantasy."  A brief glint showed from 
behind Skinner's glasses.  "Especially when the reality outdoes the 
fantasy.  I can't tell you how long I've thought about doing that." 
 
Oh, shit.  Ohshitohshitohshit, he didn't need to know that.  He didn't. 
 
"Sir," he told the AD, still plaintive.  "You just fucked me on your 
conference table and *I* let you."  He shivered again.  "Let you, hell, I 
encouraged you." 
 
A big hand cupped his face briefly, almost tenderly. "Yeah," Skinner 
agreed feelingly.  "And it was damned incredible.  Your ass is so 
tight, Mulder, so sweet--for someone who's never done that before, 
you're a natural." 
 
He whimpered again.  No one was going to believe him.  No one.  
"Sir, it's the goddamn cologne." 
 
A brief taste of Skinner's mouth and tongue made him lose his place 
in the argument.   
 
Drawing back, Skinner grinned at him knowingly.  "Mulder, whatever 
you have to tell yourself about it, I don't mind.  But it was terrific.  
Let's do it again sometime soon.  Now, get dressed and get back to 
work, I have people coming in soon, and it's going to be hard to 
explain to them that this time I really did *ream* you."  The AD's eyes 
glinted again, merry, all air of foreboding gone. 
 
He gave up.  Maybe he'd have more luck with Scully.  Especially if he 
told her about this.  And she didn't shoot him for it.   
 
They dressed in almost companionable silence.  Straightening his tie 
again, Mulder sighed, cutting his eyes sideways to see Skinner rolling 
his sleeves down and reaching for his jacket.  Oh, man, those big 
strong arms, holding him so tightly.....he had to stop thinking like this, 
it was going to be the death of him. 
 
Something seemed called for.  He'd had one of the most incredible 
orgasms he ever remembered.  Considering that, Mulder licked his 
lips again.  "Um, thank you, sir," he told Skinner, feeling like an idiot.   
 
Skinner grinned.  "Agent Mulder, the pleasure was at least 50% 
mine." 
 
Oh, yeah.  Nodding vaguely, Mulder turned to go. 
 
"Wait a minute."  Skinner took hold of him again, kissing him until he 
forgot his own name.   
 
Name.  Er, Mulder, isn't it?  Fox?  William?  Something like that? 
 
Released, he nodded again, managed to focus his eyes on Skinner's 
smug smile and turned to walk into the locked door. 
 
Chuckling, Skinner unlocked it and let him out. 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 3/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Somehow, Mulder made it down to the basement without further incident, 
although several men and women in the elevator regarded him with 
scarcely concealed interest.   
 
And he did mean interest--he could swear someone patted his ass, 
that a stealthy hand touched the front of his trousers, which not only 
startled him, but aroused him.   
 
He escaped when the doors opened and took the stairs the rest of 
the way. 
 
Safe in his office, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, 
panting.  Scully looked up from her desk, arching one eyebrow at 
him. "Scully, you aren't going to believe what just happened to me." 
 
The other eyebrow went up.  "What did Skinner want?" 
 
"What?  Oh, um, he wanted to talk to me about Verlaine.  Seems he 
got a complaint that we went out there."  Mulder swallowed hard.  
"Scully, I just spent the last twenty minutes getting fucked by 
Skinner." 
 
She looked back at her paperwork, grimacing sympathetically.  
"What else is new, Mulder?" 
 
"No, Scully, I mean *really* fucked by Skinner."  He swallowed hard 
again, shaking his head in disbelief.  "I mean, legs in the air, the 
whole thing.  Scully, you wouldn't believe it, he's hung like--well, 
anyway, it really happened." 
 
Scully's head came back up, her expression incredulous.  "Skinner 
fucked you?  What, on his desk?"  Her tone was disbelieving.  "Come 
on, Mulder--" 
 
"No, actually, he fucked me on the conference table."  On wobbly 
legs, he found his way to his desk, sank down in his chair, yelped and 
shifted to a more comfortable position, turned a bewildered gaze on 
her.  "The really weird thing is....I liked it, Scully."   
 
Her eyes were so wide he could see white all around each iris.  
"You're telling me you went up there and let Skinner fuck you."  
Incredulous tone.  Her head tipped back to regard the ceiling as if 
she were petitioning God....he suddenly hoped she wasn't the jealous 
type. 
 
Swallowing hard again, he nodded.  "Now do you believe me?   
Veblein's really on to something here, and he put it on us!" 
 
Rising so quickly that her chair shot back and rebounded against the 
wall, she advanced on him, eyes blazing. 
 
Cringing back, he failed to protect himself and got a stinging slap on 
the face that made him bite the inside of his mouth. "Ow!"   
 
Scully stood in front of him, hands on her hips, arms akimbo.  "Fox 
William Mulder, do you mean to tell me you went up there without me 
and let Skinner fuck you?"  Another slap.  "God, I'd have given a half-
years salary to see that--you, you unmitigated, selfish bastard, I 
can't believe you didn't tell me!" 
 
Stunned, he tipped his chair too far back and fell over, smacking his 
head on the floor.  Ow, ow, oh great, now he was sore at both ends... 
 
"Scu-u-u-lly," he whined, dodging yet another slap,  "I didn't know 
that was going to happen when I went upstairs.  It never has before!"    
 
Oh, wow, she was getting him hot, her face all rosy from temper, her 
breasts heaving up and down again--reaching up, he cupped one in 
his hand, thumbing the nipple through her blouse and bra....her 
expression went glazed, she yanked him up by his tie, their mouths 
met....oh, no, not again--and that was his last coherent thought for 
some time. 
 
 
Mulder had rug burn on his knees.  And elbows.  And his head and 
ass both ached.  And he could still taste blood from where he'd bitten 
the inside of his mouth.   
 
Scully sighed gustily from beneath him, one high heel tapping the 
back of his thigh.  "Mulder, get off me, I'm cold and this rug is itchy." 
 
Three times, he thought stupidly, three times in less than an hour 
and a half.  He wondered how long it would take them to fuck 
themselves to death.  And he had more to worry about than Scully.   
 
*He'd* always had a more than ordinarily strong libido to begin with, 
and she was Catholic....   
 
"Scully, we've got to get this off our skin." 
 
A sigh warmed his skin; ungentle fingers pinched his ass, hard.  "Get 
off, Mulder!" 
 
Rolling over onto his back, he stared at the ceiling, trying to make out 
shapes in the brown, ill defined slotches that darkened the corners.  
"We have to get this off our skin," he repeated and yawned, 
exhausted. 
 
Scully rose and stretched, making him shiver reflexively.  "I don't 
know, Mulder, maybe you're right."  Her voice was thoughtful.  
"Skinner really fucked you?" 
 
He winced as he sat up.  "Hard." 
 
Her eyes met his, bright with curiosity.  "And you liked it?" 
 
Honesty compelled him.  "A lot." 
 
Her eyes rested on him thoughtfully.  "So, you're bisexual, big deal." 
 
He rested his arms on drawn up knees, feeling desperate.  "I wasn't 
bisexual when I woke up this morning, Scully."  Then, considering,  
"Well, maybe I was and didn't realize it, but I find it hard to accept 
that I've been nursing a secret passion for Skinner all this time."   
 
Let alone a hidden desire to do squat thrusts on a guided missile....a 
missile guided by his boss, no less. 
 
Her mouth curved.  "But Mulder, that would explain a lot, all the 
macho posturing the two of you do, all that alpha male stuff.  You just 
finally accepted your role in the relationship."   
 
He opened his mouth to protest that, but thought better of it.  For all 
he knew, she was right.  Dammit.   
 
Her smile grew pensive.  "God, I wish I could have seen that, Mulder."  
Another gusty sigh.  "It makes me so hot just thinking about it." 
 
Staring at her, he licked his lips, mesmerized again.  Every time she 
sighed like that, her breasts bobbed entrancingly.  "It does?"   
 
There were definite possibilities in the curve of that smile, definite--
he wondered if Skinner would go for it.   
 
Wondered who was going to do who and how, and whether or not all 
the knees and elbows would get in the way.....what the hell was he 
thinking?  Groaning, he put his hands in his hair.  "I'm going to go to 
the men's room and wash this shit off before it gets me in any more 
trouble, Scully." 
 
"Put some clothes on first, Mulder," she advised saucily and grinned 
at him before reaching for her own clothes. 
 
 
Sitting back in her chair, Scully considered the evidence.  Actually, 
she gave Mulder's theory more credence than he imagined.  But 
then, he was still shell shocked from his encounter with Skinner.   
 
Her mouth curved again, trying to visualize it.  Skinner, silent and 
brooding, Mulder, talkative and brooding, two hunky men, both hard 
as rocks--oooh, heels in the air, oh, dear, she was getting wet again, 
she had to get herself under control before she did something 
irretrievable to their partnership.  Like rape him in the elevator or 
hallway. 
 
The door slammed open and Mulder came back in, damp and 
harried.  "I think the janitor just made a pass at me." 
 
"You're imagining it," she told him calmly, patting his arm.  "You're 
the most paranoid human I know, anyway, Mulder, and Skinner just 
has you a little shaken." 
 
Mulder's expression was outraged.  "Scully, the janitor patted my 
ass!" 
 
Nope, he was right, that *was* a pass.  "Maybe you're right.  Was it 
before or after you washed off the cologne?  Did you use soap?" 
 
"During.  And yes, I did."  He lifted his chin.  "Can you smell it any 
more?" 
 
She inhaled deeply.   
 
All she could smell was Mulder.  Yummy, yummy Mulder, with that 
pouty lower lip, those long runner's legs, all taut muscle, not bulk, that 
sweet, sweet cock--control, Dana Katherine, she told herself sternly, 
control, you can't do him again yet, give him some recovery time. 
"Nope.  But I still want to do you until you can't do anymore, Mulder, 
so that weakens the argument that it's the cologne." 
 
His eyes were a little crazed.  "You're still wearing yours.  Go wash, 
Scully." 
 
"It's only on my wrist."  She waved it under his nose and he closed 
his eyes and  whimpered.  Okay, his theory was looking better all the 
time.  "Don't go anywhere, Mulder.  I'll be right back." 
 
Hurrying down the hall, she found the women's bathroom, hidden in a 
corner behind the mop closet, and rolled up her sleeves.  As she 
soaped and scrubbed hands, wrists and forearms, not to mention her 
sleeve--well, she had to go home and take a shower anyway, what 
the hell--she regarded herself in the mirror.   
 
She looked sensational, she had to admit, getting laid always agreed 
with her.   In fact, she looked sleek.  Satisfied.  Sated.  Never mind 
that she was still wet inside her panties, still caught up in sexual 
arousal and images of what they'd done, as well as what Skinner had 
done to Mulder.  With Mulder.  For Mulder.  A shiver brushed the 
nape of her neck, just imagining it.   
 
Whatever.  It was definitely nice to know that the aroused look 
worked for her.   
 
Humming, she went back to the office and marched up to her 
woebegone partner, held her wrist under his nose. 
 
"It's gone," he whispered and inhaled again, deeply, whimpering 
again.  "It doesn't matter anymore, I still want to take your clothes off 
and screw your brains out, Scully, he got us.  He got us deliberately." 
 
She thought about Veblein's pleasure as he'd applied the samples to 
their skin.  Maybe.   
 
But if Veblein had, she should maybe write a nice bread and butter 
note to him.  Her mother had taught her that courtesy was the mark 
of a lady.  "Mulder, you're imagining things again.  Go home, take a 
shower, I plan to.  And I'll call you later?" 
 
A mixture of hope and resignation lit his eyes.  "Wanna come over?" 
 
Did she want to come over?  Was the Pope Catholic?  "Sure."  
Leaning over him, she kissed him deeply, nipping at his lower lip.   
He closed his eyes again and moaned in despair.  "Go home, 
Mulder." 
 
Nodding vaguely at her, he rose shakily and wobbled over to his 
overcoat.  "Be careful, Scully, and stay out of Skinner's office.  
Unless you're fond of surprises." 
 
"Sure, Mulder."  She grinned at his back.  She was *very* fond of 
surprises. 
 
 
Seated at his desk again, Walter Skinner tilted a look at the 
conference table and sighed.   
 
He'd fucked his subordinate, Fox Mulder, Spooky Mulder, the man 
who had singlehanded turned what was left of his hair grey.   
 
The man who claimed to believe in little grey men.  In vampires and 
flukemen and things that went bump in the night.  He'd ordered him 
to strip naked and then screwed him senseless.  And he still couldn't 
quite understand why. 
 
On the other hand, it *was* the hottest sex he could remember 
having in years.   
 
When his wife had told Scully and Mulder that they had become 
roommates, she hadn't been kidding--but Mulder?  He could maybe 
make the excuse that starvation led to strange excesses, but his mind 
boggled at the remembered sensations of skin against hot skin, of 
Mulder's flesh clasping him tightly--oh, God, so damned tight, he was 
hard again just thinking about it. 
 
Not that he could deny having found Mulder attractive.  He'd come to 
terms with that a long time ago--but fucking him?  In the office?  In 
the middle of the day?  His mouth quirked as he considered the 
possibility of doing it again.   
 
Sex made Mulder remarkably cooperative, he had to admit.  Maybe 
he'd been approaching this whole Mulder-supervision thing from the 
wrong end--whoops, don't think about Mulder's end, that tight, firm 
little butt--maybe sex *was* the way to deal with Mulder, maybe he 
should have just tripped him up long ago and turned him out 
properly....   
 
But until today, he'd never seen that attraction returned, that strange 
haze of lust and terror that had dazzled him enough to take the kind 
of chance he had today.  The way Mulder had licked his lips had 
almost driven him crazy.  Wow.  Just thinking about it made his 
glasses steam up. 
 
Taking them off, he cleaned them, sighing, wondering what Mulder 
was doing this evening.... 
 
"Sir?"  Scully stood in the door, but this was an entirely different 
Scully than the one who usually appeared in his office.  Not a hair out 
of place, every button buttoned and in its place, and yet she 
managed to appear lush, almost seductive.   
 
His mouth went dry.  It had to be something in the water.  Or the 
cafeteria coffee...."Yes, Agent Scully?" 
 
"I wonder if I might have a word with you."  Scully advanced into the 
office.  Same tailored suit, Christ, he'd seen her in the hall this 
morning, and this was *not* the same woman.   
 
Maybe Mulder wasn't so out of orbit after all--she licked her lips and 
he swallowed hard.   "Certainly, Agent Scully.  My door is always 
open to you."  He swallowed hard again at the husky sound of his 
own voice. 
 
She smiled, the cat who ate the canary, and closed his office door.  
"Privately."  The lock snicked and his eyes widened.  "Just the two of 
us."  Another creamy smile. 
 
"Of course," he managed to say.  "What can I do for you?" 
 
A sly smile.  "What you did for Agent Mulder, sir." 
 
Shock made him blink.  "Er, what do you mean, Agent Scully?" 
 
She slipped out of her jacket, hanging it neatly across the chair.  
"You know what I mean, sir," she reproved.  "You did Mulder like the 
poor man's never been done before, and I want my share." 
 
Scully had been replaced by one of Mulder's alien clones, that was 
the only explanation.   
 
Rising--in more ways than one--he reached for his tie again, 
loosening it.  "I see.  Well, I should have known, you two *are* 
partners.  You probably tell each other everything." 
 
Her skirt joined the jacket.  "Uh-huh."  Another smile. 
 
His shirt went on his chair, trousers laid over it.  Oooh, he loved a 
woman in a garter belt, it always seemed more naked than naked, for 
some strange reason.  But wait....he sat down in his chair, eyeing 
her.  "This isn't some competitive thing with your partner, is it?"   
 
Her blouse and bra fell to the floor, unnoticed.  By either of them.  
Advancing on him, she eyed him appreciatively.  "Not in the least, sir.  
Oh, my, you *are* a fine looking man." 
 
Oh, my, indeed.  Entranced by pert breasts, he reached out for her, 
cupping both buttocks in his hand as she leaned down to kiss the top 
of his head.   
 
A delectable coral nipple leaned into his mouth--maybe it wasn't so 
bad being Assistant Director, even if he did have to supervise the X 
Files.  Her skin was so silky soft, sooo sweet to touch; bringing his 
hands to her waist, he leaned up to kiss her, tasting.....Mulder?  
Leaning back, he narrowed his eyes.  "Agent Scully, did you by 
chance get a little of what I had from Mulder?" 
 
Her expression was bemused.  "Of course not, sir, I don't have a 
dick.  But I got everything else."  A wicked, knowing smile.  "For 
someone reluctant, I must say--he was incredible."  Her eyes 
dropped, measuring his erection.  "I don't suppose you'd be willing to 
consider a threesome sometime?" 
 
He had died and gone to heaven, obviously.  "Agent Scully, I would 
more than consider it."  Those puffy lower lips were tantalizing him 
unbearably; he slipped one finger into the slippery folds, stroking her 
lightly.   
 
Scully tipped her head back and moaned softly--God, she was wet, 
slippery with sex, swollen with it.  Maybe there was something to this 
pheromone thing of Mulder's.  He found he didn't much care--this 
was too good to worry about.   
 
Leaning back, he swiveled the chair, taking her with him, eased her 
back on the desk and brought her legs up over his shoulders.  She 
smelled like the sea, slightly sweet, musky--bending his head, he 
lapped delicately at the little hooded nub buried in the puffiness, 
making her arch her back, balancing her weight precariously on her 
hands.   
 
It *was* disconcerting to realize that she wasn't really a redhead, but 
everyone had their little vanities, and it tasted the same anyway.  
Burying his mouth in her, he slid his hands under her buttocks, 
bringing her nearer, using lips and tongue to tease her. 
 
She gasped and made small pained sounds, as if she wanted to cry 
out loud; feeling wicked, he ran his tongue through every fold, put it 
inside her, brought it back up to her clitoris and sucked gently until 
she trembled convulsively, breathing in ragged gasps as she came 
and tried not to scream.  He kept his mouth gentle then, until it 
subsided, then leaned back with the most complacent grin he ever 
remembered having.  "Very good, Agent Scully." 
 
She leaned up, smiling just as complacently through tousled hair.  
"Your work isn't done yet, sir.  I want more." 
 
He grinned.  "You know me, Agent Scully, I never leave a job half 
done."  Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a condom 
package and blinked when she snatched it from him. 
 
"I like doing *this* myself, sir," she told him and slid off the desk, 
kneeling before him to take his cock in her mouth.  He groaned, 
leaning back into his chair, letting his hands rest on her shoulders.   
 
Her tongue swirled around his tip, cleaning off the small drop of pre-
cum--not as much luxury as he'd had with Mulder, but they hadn't 
taken time for such niceties as this.   
 
Just slam, bam and thank you--he smiled vaguely at the ceiling--sir 
and they were done.   
 
But this, ooh, this was slow and silky and hot--she took him in all the 
way, amazing him, her nose pressed into the dark hair at his groin.  
God, who would have ever guessed, looking at the proper and 
professional exterior woman, that Scully could give head like this? 
 
When she drew back, she gave him that cat and the canary smile 
again before dressing him properly for round two.  Then, her 
movements almost delicate--feline, he told himself--she straddled him 
on the chair, holding onto his shoulders as he guided himself into her. 
 
Christ!  She was hot even through the latex, hot and wet and he 
surged into her all the way, holding onto her waist.  Tight and hot--
trust Mulder to have a partner like this, after what he'd discovered 
earlier today, he wasn't in the least surprised she and Mulder were 
doing the wild thing.  In fact, he wished he'd thought of it first. 
 
Firmly seated, Scully gave a shuddering sigh.  "I got so hot thinking 
about you and Mulder, I had to see for myself." 
 
He nipped her chin.  "Always the scientific observer, eh?" 
 
"Always," she agreed huskily and began to move on him.  Not 
enough.  Sliding his hands under those perfect cheeks, he lifted her, 
let her slide down again, God, this was so incredible, it was a good 
thing Sharon had lately had the sex drive of an eggplant, he wasn't 
going to be able to perform any routine marital duties tonight.  Or 
any other night. 
 
"So it made you hot," he repeated hoarsely.  "What did he tell you?" 
 
A shudder as she raised herself again, pushing on his shoulders.  Oh, 
God, her skin was so hot; bending his head, he took first one nipple, 
then the other into his mouth, sucking them until they were pebbled, 
hard against his chest, tormenting him.  "He said you fucked him."  
She sank down, slowly, luxuriously.  "And that he liked it." 
 
He licked the space between her breasts and lifted her again.  Let 
her move down, making *him* shudder.  "Is that all?  Given the 
incredible poetic imagery of his reports, I expected something 
better." 
 
Her hair fell foward, tickling his forehead.  "He was a little shaken," 
she admitted, sighing again as she moved.  Ah, God, sweet torture, 
that tight, molten sheath moving on him.... 
 
"I made him take off his clothes," he whispered harshly and squeezed 
her ass as he thrust hard up into her.  "And then I made him lie down 
on the conference table with his legs in the air and I put my cock in 
his ass and fucked him hard, Scully.  And jerked him off while I was 
doing it." 
 
She shivered, tipped her head back; he kissed her throat, felt her 
move again.  "I want you on that table," she told him huskily. 
 
Shifting, he held tightly to her and rose carefully; she locked her legs 
around his hips.  "No sooner said than done, Agent Scully."  He 
carried her to the table.  
 
"No, I want *you* on the table."  Her gaze was burning, as hot as her 
skin. 
 
Which was how he ended up flat on his back on the table a moment 
later. 
 
All that lazy sensuality had deceived him.  She was a hell cat, riding 
him hard, fingernails tormenting his nipples, fingertips seeking out 
and finding every sensitive spot between his neck and his hips, 
scratching him as she moved up and down, clenching those inner 
muscles until he was the one making helpless sounds, barely able to 
remember his own name.   
 
Oh, yeah, Walter.  Walter Skinner. 
 
It was a photo finish; he shuddered into her, pulling her against his 
chest and crushing her close.  She sank her teeth into his shoulder to 
keep from screaming--he wondered dimly how he was going to cover 
up two sets of bite marks when he went home, but at least she'd 
bitten the other shoulder.  If Sharon murdered him, they were going 
to be able to easily identify Scully's and Mulder's teeth on his skin.... 
 
When he could find breath, and the muscles in his arms unclenched 
enough to let Scully sit up, she gave him that damned smile again.  
Women--sometimes he envied their ability to keep going and going 
and going.  Energizer bunnies didn't have it so good.   
 
"Well, sir, now I understand why Mulder was so dazed when he came 
back to the basement."  Leaning down, she nipped his lower lip--he 
flashed on Mulder's again and shuddered as she lifted herself off him. 
 
Leaning up on one elbow, he reflected that he felt pretty dazed 
himself.  "Agent Scully, is there anything to this suspicion Agent 
Mulder has about Verlaine Perfumes?" 
 
She paused and bent to pick up her panties.  "Possibly, sir.  I think 
it's going to take a little more research to be sure." 
 
After a moment, he smiled slowly.  "Take all the time you need, 
Scully." 
 
She gave him a quick, dimpled smile.  "Thank you, sir." 
 
 
Aside from a quickie in the elevator with a neighbor he didn't know, a 
petite brunette who couldn't have been any older than twenty, Mulder 
made it home without incident.   
 
He was beginning to understand the Verlaine secretary and the bag 
boys.   
 
Women had it easy, they didn't have to get it up--and he was starting 
to feel sore.  Any more of this and he was going to feel raw.  He 
wondered if men walked funny when they'd had too much sex, but 
that brought back images of Skinner, sensations he'd never had 
before but was, although embarrassed to admit it, interested in 
experiencing again.   
 
With Skinner.   
 
God, his life had become something out of Weird Tales.  X-rated 
Weird Tales.  Well, it had always been out of Weird Tales, but now it 
was getting weirder.   
 
He'd hoped that it would wash off, but the elevator bang had crushed 
that hope. 
 
But maybe it still would.  Wobbling his way to the bathroom, Mulder 
turned on the hot water and stripped off his somewhat rumpled 
clothes.   
 
Reminder:  Hang your suit on furniture when sudden lust hits, do not, 
repeat, do not just drop it on the floor.  His shirt looked like he'd slept 
in it.  And it smelled of Scully and Skinner.  And the damned 
fragrance, both feminine and masculine sorts.   
 
His paranoia surged and he went in search of trash bags, packaged 
all his clothing up and sealed it, then sealed it in three more bags 
before putting it in the back of his front closet.  He felt bad about 
what was going happen to the dry cleaner, but it was better than 
having himself die young.   
 
The hot water was soothing and he scrubbed his skin thoroughly.  
Scully might have washed off her cologne and he might have washed 
his off, but they had doubtless managed to spread it on each other.  
Emerging from the shower, he felt as pure and chaste as a choir 
boy.  Not that he'd ever been a choir boy. 
 
The phone rang. 
 
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he caught it in the bedroom.  
"Mulder." 
 
"Did you go see Dr. Veblein?" X's voice asked. 
 
He looked at the ceiling.  He was blushing, it was hard to believe, but 
he was blushing.  "Yeah, we did, we got a sample from him."  Boy, 
did we get a sample, he told himself, closing his eyes. 
 
"He gave you a sample?"  X's voice sharpened.  "Stay right where 
you are, Agent Mulder, your life may be in danger." 
 
Well, if not his life, certainly his dick.  Not to mention other assorted 
parts of his anatomy.  "Yeah?" 
 
"Stay where you are.  Do not, under any circumstances, leave that 
apartment."  Click. 
 
He thought about that and hung up the phone.   He was safe.  He'd 
washed it off, no more cologne stirring him to do things he'd never 
ever thought of doing before now.  Safe. 
 
He hoped. 
 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 4/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Now that Scully thought about it, Agent Pendrell was really very cute.  
In a computer nerd sort of way.  And he was sweet.  He always 
blushed when he looked at her.   
 
He'd blushed a lot when she'd taken the sample down to Forensics.  
And squirmed.   
 
She wondered idly if he'd squirm the right way, heard his footsteps 
and sat down in his spare office chair, hiking her skirt up, ostensibly 
to adjust a garter, just as they paused at the door. 
 
A strangled cough came from behind her.  Pulling her skirt demurely 
down, Scully gave him a look over her shoulder.  "Agent Pendrell," 
she said and smiled.  "I've been wondering if you've made any 
progress on that sample." 
 
He was scarlet.  "A-a-agent S-scully, I wasn't expecting you." 
 
She nodded.  "I thought I'd drop by before I went home.  Just to 
check."  Rising slowly, she thanked God for her predilection for high 
heels and swayed over to him.  Not much.  Just enough.   
 
Besides, it was hard to keep her usual brisk stride after getting 
reamed by Skinner.  One corner of her mouth turned up, pointing out 
the dimple there.   
 
Pendrell stared at her, eyes wide, throat quivering as he swallowed 
visibly.  "Anything new?" 
 
His lips moved, but nothing came out.  Casting her eyes down, she 
noted the outline of a healthy--why, Agent Pendrell, who ever would 
have thought it--bulge and delicately brushed her fingertips against it.  
He gasped. 
 
"Let's talk, Agent Pendrell," she crooned and took hold of his tie, 
pulling him into his own office; the door closed and locked before he 
quite knew how he'd gotten there. 
 
"Agent Scully?"  His tone was awed, amazed, stunned. 
 
"Yes, Agent Pendrell."  Raising her hands, she unknotted his tie and 
tossed it on the desk, then unbuttoned his shirt. 
 
He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and opened them again, eyes 
shining.  "Oh, Agent Scully," he whispered and--there was no other 
word for it--pounced. 
 
She found herself on his desk, struggling to get his clothes off while 
he struggled with hers.   
 
Buttons popped, zippers pinched, and--"Whoa, boy," she gasped and 
fumbled for the spare condom she'd lifted from Mulder's desk.  "No 
glove, no love." 
 
He bent his mouth to her nipple, making her gasp and shiver.  But he 
only whimpered when she rolled the condom over his surprisingly 
generous erection.   
 
My God, who would have guessed that Pendrell was hung nearly as 
well as Skinner.  Quiet little Pendrell.   
 
When she cupped his balls in her hand and gently squeezed, he 
moaned, moaned and spread her out on the back of the desk for 
some serious action. 
 
Fast and furious action.   
 
She wondered dimly if he was a virgin, except that he *certainly* 
knew what he was doing.  Either he was a very talented and 
enthusiastic virgin, or he was far more experienced than anyone had 
ever guessed.  All that shyness, it made her wonder....his hips 
pistoned in and out, driving that wonderful love hammer in and out of 
her until her toes curled in her pumps.... 
 
Gasping, she urged him on with small sounds, feeling that pleasure 
spiral up and up and up.....oh, God, she was coming again and 
again, God, it was great being a woman..... 
 
He thrust harder, more frantically, burying his little yelps of pleasure 
in her neck, stiffened suddenly and gasped, thrust twice more and 
then sagged against her.   
 
"Oh, Agent Scully," he murmured, sounding worshipful.  "Agent 
Scully, Agent Scully." 
 
The repetition worked on her nerves; she began to feel irritation.  
"Yes, Pendrell."  Gently, she pushed him back away from her, 
smiling patiently when he gazed at her in astonishment.  "That was 
wonderful, Pendrell.  I'm really impressed." 
 
Pendrell gulped.  Pendrell blinked.  "Um, yes, it was."  Another gulp, 
he looked around the office as if he'd just been beamed in.  "Ah, 
about the sample--it contains some very strange substances, Agent 
Scully.  Something I've never seen before, like a virus, but not quite a 
virus." 
 
He really was cute, she reflected and arched an eyebrow.  "The 
Georgetown Microbiology labs might be able to help." 
 
He nodded, still staring at her breasts.  "Agent Scully, that was 
amazing." 
 
She kissed the tip of his nose.  "It sure was.  Keep me posted on that 
virus, will you?  I have to go home."  And tuck Mulder in, she thought, 
biting back her smile.   
 
Oooh, she was insatiable.  No more good Catholic girl--and best of 
all, she had something on which to blame it, something beyond 
herself.....what more could anyone ask? 
 
With an affectionate pat on the backside, she left Pendrell muttering 
to himself and went back to her office to lock up. 
 
 
He was watching Die Hard II when the knock came on the door; it 
was mindless entertainment, mindless enough that he could forget 
about the day's, ahem, activities.    
 
Rising, he reached for his gun and padded in stocking feet to look 
through the peephole, saw his uninvited guest standing there.   
 
X?  Here?   
 
Opening the door, he let him in quickly, sticking his head out in the 
hallway to look around.  Then, closing the door, he turned to regard 
the uncompromising features of his informant.  "What are you doing 
here?" 
 
"I had to warn you, Agent Mulder."   
 
X's gaze was penetrating--no, don't go there, Mulder, he told himself 
frantically and took a step backward.  "Warn me about what?"  He 
took another step back for good measure.  Somehow, after Skinner, 
it seemed wise. 
 
X took a step forward.  "Mulder, did you get any of that sample on 
your skin?" 
 
He swallowed.  "Not the sample he gave us.  But he did put some of it 
on our skin." 
 
Appalled, X took a step backward.  "It's worse than I thought, you've 
been exposed now for--how long ago?" 
 
Mulder looked at his watch.  "Seven hours.  Almost eight, really." 
 
X's expression suggested that Mulder had just stated a dietary 
preference for human flesh.  "Eight?  You just stood there and let 
him put it on your skin?" 
 
"Well, you didn't give me very goddamn much to go on," Mulder 
snarled, "How the hell was I supposed to know that's what killed those 
people."  He took a step forward, clenching the fist that wasn't holding 
the gun. 
 
X took a step backward.  "Stay back, Mulder." 
 
He blinked.  "Why?" 
 
"Because you aren't just a danger to yourself, you're a danger to 
everyone else.  That little sample you and Agent Scully was the 
equivalent of gene-therapy.  You remember the people you called the 
Kindred?" 
 
"How could I forget?"  Mulder's knees felt wobbly.  "Gene-therapy?  
What kind of gene therapy?" 
 
"Your blood isn't going to turn green, if that's what you're worried 
about," X told him caustically.  "Two things, Mulder.  Not only are you 
going to give off pheromones that contain almost overwhelming 
sexual signals, signals that other people can'ty resist, you're going to 
be able to detect them.  And respond to them.  And respond to them.  
And respond to them.  Although," he looked thoughtful suddenly, 
"That might be interesting."   
 
Then his expression shifted, became appalled.  "What am I saying?  
I've got to get out of here, Mulder." 
 
It was too late, Mulder suddenly knew, because the room was hotter 
than the average sauna.  Only it wasn't.  This was more and more 
frightening.  And X was feeling it, too,  X found him attractive.   
 
Very attractive, if the heat of his gaze meant anything.  If the swelling 
in his trousers meant anything.  Oh, god, this was an X File all right. 
 
"Okay, get out, and don't come back," he babbled, pushing X toward 
the door.  But touching X was an unfortunate mistake.   
 
X whimpered.  *He* whimpered.   
 
And they fell to the floor, frantically tearing at each other's 
clothing...squirming to get their exposed skin touching...frantically 
licking and rubbing and biting--biting?  Biting? 
 
His sex life was taking a definitely alien turn.... 
 
X slid down and engulfed his cock with a warm mouth.  
Ogodogodogod, he could feel X's facial hair on his balls and that was 
simultaneously the weirdest and hottest sensation he could 
remember feeling since....this afternoon, at least.  Oh, god, X was 
deep throating him; raising his head, he watched in amazement, his 
hips rising to meet that incredible sensation.  The cool air hit the 
wetness on his exposed skin when X drew back and shucked his 
trousers and underwear revealing the most, ah, frightening thing he'd 
ever seen.   
 
No way was he going to get fucked by *that*, he wasn't about to end 
up being able to pack his shaving kit where the sun didn't shine--it 
was time to turn the tables. 
 
He pounced, laying X flat on his back; X struggled for a while, but 
Mulder concentrated on his task, sucking on flat nipples, doing the 
things that he remembered Skinner doing to him.  And soon, X was 
moaning on the floor quite nicely, allowing him to scramble for 
condoms and lube--X whimpered, reaching blindly for him.   
 
A little desperately, he squeezed lube onto his fingers and probed the 
tight and puckered opening between those rock-hard cheeks.  
Omanomanomanoman, it was so tight and hot--leaning down, he took 
the head of that monster between his lips and sucked hard before 
slipping another finger in.  His cock was throbbing so hard he was 
afraid it was going to explode long before he got all the way in, but X 
moaned quite satisfactorily, arching his hips into the motion of 
Mulder's fingers, into the wetness of Mulder's mouth.  Then, while X 
was still focused on that, he managed to unroll the condom over 
Sparky--was it his imagination, or was his cock bigger than it had 
been this morning?  This afternoon.  Whenever. 
 
Whatever, it hardly mattered.   
 
Releasing X's cock and removing his fingers, he replaced the latter 
with his own cock, pushing hard through the tight muscle and sliding 
in halfway.  X yelped and he stopped, remembering Skinner's care 
with him.  "Sorry, sorry, god, you're so tight, that's so incredible."  As 
an apology, he grasped X's shaft and began moving his hand up and 
down, all the while biting his lip to keep from simply exploding where 
he was. 
 
"I'll get you for this, Mulder," X gasped and moaned as Mulder eased 
in farther.  "Oh, you bastard, that's so fucking good, I'll kill you, 
Mulder, see if I don't." 
 
Well, what the hell, he was dead anyway if he kept up this rate of 
sexual activity.  Or maybe not, this was only the fifth time today.   
 
Thrusting in hard, he sank in to the root, gasping for breath as 
pleasure nearly made him swoon.  "God, you're good," he muttered 
and leaned over the larger man to suck on his nipples again.  X's 
hands tangled in his hair; X grunted as he shoved back on Mulder's 
thrusts, moaning low in his throat as Mulder angled up, pressing hard 
against what he privately thought of as an on button. 
 
"Fuck me, damn you, oooh, I'm gonna kill you for this." X growled, 
shuddering as Mulder's fist worked him. 
 
"You're gonna kill me for this?" Mulder asked, varying his stroke, one-
TWO, one-TWO, "Or for this?"  Another variation, one-two-THREE, 
one-two-THREE.  "Or for this," a combination of both. 
 
X moaned wildly, tossing his head from side to side.  "You bastard," 
he whimpered, "Just shut the hell up and fuck me!" 
 
"Well, since you asked so nicely," Mulder muttered and really let 
himself slam home, pulling back and pistoning forward with all the 
energy he could muster.  Mind, it wasn't as much as it might have 
usually been, he was fucking exhausted.  Exhausted from fucking.   
 
And Scully was still supposed to come over. 
 
X was moaning again, louder and louder, jerking his ass up again and 
again, pushing harder and harder and harder against him, those 
heavy dark balls drawing up tight inside the hot skin.   
 
His were tightening, too, his heart was pounding hard enough to 
break ribs, the pleasure made him feel he'd been standing too close 
to a fire--ogodogodogodogodogod, he was gonna come again and it 
was going to be a biiig one....a mind-boggling bolt of pleasure/pain 
traveled from the base of his skull down his spine and zapped his 
balls.  He felt the heat of his cum rising from there to pump into the 
condom and nearly screamed with it.   
 
X screamed--full throated, a mixture of ecstasy and fury that 
tightened him down on Mulder's spurting cock, glaring furiously at 
Mulder.  Mulder did scream then, pleasure/pain/pleasure....god, the 
top of his head was coming off, and he meant the one on his 
shoulders....X's legs wrapped around him, pulling him close, X bit at 
his nipples, growling incoherently....and then sagged backward onto 
the floor. 
 
He sank down, breathing hard, resting his cheek against the coarse 
hair on X's chest.  After a moment, X lifted him by his hair.  "You 
silly bastard, I oughta pinch your head right off your shoulders.  How 
could you be so stupid?" 
 
Stupid?  Oh, yeah, Veblein and the perfume.   
 
"If you were a little less cryptic," he retorted hotly, "I might have been 
better prepared.  Oh, shit, Scully--"  Pulling out unceremoniously, he 
disposed of the condom on his way to the phone. 
 
She didn't answer on her cell phone; he tried her home phone and 
was relieved to hear her voice.  "Scully, it's me.  Listen, I just, ah, 
talked to X and he's given me some more information on this stuff of 
Veblein's." 
 
"Really?"  Her voice was husky.  Sparky twitched again; remember 
the nice lady, Sparky?  Down, boy, down, not while X is still here.  
"What did he tell you?" 
 
"I'll tell you when you get here.  I'll meet you at the front door," 
remembering his own adventure in the elevator, "Call me on your cell 
phone when you get here."  He hung up and regarded his guest with 
bemusement. 
 
X was dressing sullenly, darting exasperated looks at Mulder.  "You're 
both a danger to yourselves and to others.  You need to be in 
quarantine." 
 
"Fuck that," he snapped.  "And who's going to put us there." 
 
"Not me."  X scowled.  "I'd have to reveal how I know, and what I 
know, and that's not safe for either of us, Mulder.  You don't 
understand, you aren't just giving off sexual signals occasionally, 
you're giving off sexual signals constantly." 
 
Mulder scowled back.  "That's why those people fucked themselves to 
death." 
 
"Essentially, yes.  Your own sexual readiness ignites other people, 
and their readiness ignites you.  Evidently, he's refined the formula 
somewhat, or else you and Agent Scully are just naturally more 
inclined to talk than act."  Sneering, X snatched up his overcoat, 
smoothed out the wrinkles and put it on.  "Don't contact me again, 
Mulder.  You're too damned dangerous." 
 
The door slammed.   
 
His heart was still pounding.  Wow, whatever anybody could say 
about X as a contact, he was one terrific lay. 




Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 5/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Mulder met her at the front door to his apartment building, carrying 
his gun and wearing a more than ordinarily paranoid look on his face.   
 
Or maybe not, maybe it was just the way his eyes darted around the 
lobby and the way he dragged her toward the stairs that made her 
think so.  "Mulder, what's going on?" 
 
He nudged her up one step, eyes moving frantically around the lobby.  
"The elevator's not safe." 
 
She lifted both eyebrows at him.  "Not safe?  Not safe, how?" 
 
To her amusement, he blushed.  "For us, Scully.  For either of us.  
Separate or together." 
 
She felt her lips curve upward.  "Why, Mulder, you romantic, you," 
she told him merrily.  And went up the stairs ahead of him, showing 
off her tight jeans with each sway of her hips, letting her inseam 
chafe her sex delightfully.   
 
She swore she could hear him gulp and grinned all the way to his 
door. 
 
Once he'd slammed it shut and locked it, he raked a hand through his 
hair, giving her a harried look.  "Scully, we're in real trouble."   
 
And his eyes fell on her blouse, strategically unbuttoned to reveal that 
she wasn't wearing a bra.  And that her nipples were standing up to 
say hello.  He whimpered and his eyes darted away.  "Not now, 
Scully, this is important." 
 
She dropped her gaze and grinned again.  "So, Mulder, you packing 
your gun in your sweatpants, or are you just glad to see me?" 
 
Mulder put his hands over his ears, his expression desperate.  "I'm 
thinking about Tooms under the escalator," he chanted, "I'm thinking 
about fat-sucking vampires, I'm thinking about Chaco chicken, I'm 
thinking about liver flukes...." 
 
"Spoilsport," she pouted and stepped forward to give him a teasing 
stroke through the sweats.  "All right, I'm listening."   
 
Taking off her coat, she hung it on his coat rack, then proceeded to 
the couch, leaning forward against the arm to better display her 
assets.   
 
"Fat-sucking vampires," he repeated, squinching his eyes shut and 
feeling his way over to the chair via the furniture. 
 
She couldn't help it, she giggled.  It was hilarious, she'd have thought 
he would be having more fun with this.   
 
Mr. Celebrity Skin,  Mr. Videos That Aren't Mine, Mr. Adult Video 
New was actually unhappy about it.  
 
Opening his eyes, he scowled at her.  "Scully, this isn't funny, this is 
terrible.  I just fucked X." 
 
Unable to prevent herself, Scully giggled again.  "Considering how 
many times he's fucked us, that seems fair." 
 
"Scu-u-u-lly," he whined, his expression pathetic.  "This is serious!" 
 
"Oh, all right, speak."  She gave him an attentive look, but her eyes 
kept dropping to his lap.  Oooh, yes, Mulder, you're glad to see me, 
all right.  You may not want to be, but you aaaarrreee! 
 
He squinched his eyes shut again.  "Scully, we've got to get back to 
Veblein's labs and get a sample of what he put on us.  X says that it's 
like gene-therapy, that our genetic makeup has been altered to 
produce sexual attractants and to respond to them much more 
intensely than nature ever intended.  At least, I think that's what he 
said.  Or meant."  Even with his eyes closed, he looked puzzled for a 
moment, thinking it over.  "Anyway, I want those two vials Veblein 
used on us." 
 
She considered that in light of what Pendrell had told her.  Funny, 
she ought to be worried, troubled, outright terrified.  But instead, she 
was intrigued.  Veblein had discovered an antidote to parochial 
school training, it seemed.   
 
He ought to be canonized.   
 
"Okay," she agreed, "We'll go back to see Veblein." 
 
His eyes opened and narrowed at her.  "No, no, Scully, we've got to 
get in there some other way, he's not going to let us have samples." 
 
Scully grinned.  "Maybe he will.  If we handle him the right way."  Her 
mouth curved wickedly.  "Did you really do X?" 
 
He nodded morosely.  "I did.  And he wasn't very happy about it, 
either.  Well, afterward, anyway.  So what did you find out from 
Pendrell?" 
 
It was an unfortunate question; she giggled again.  "That he's really 
very good for a mama's boy," she told him, still giggling. 
 
Mulder gaped at her.  "Pendrell?  You did Pendrell?" 
 
She smirked.  "I did.  Skinner, too.  You were right, Mulder, that man 
is hung.  And built--oh, my, yes, he is.   By the way, he's interested 
in getting together for a threesome."  She smirked again when 
Mulder blanched.  "Anyway, Pendrell told me that the sample we gave 
him contains something very reminiscent of a virus.  Mulder, did you 
know there's a theory that oncogenes could, under hypothetical 
circumstances, behave like viruses?" 
 
He gave her a blank look, the genius who had gone to Oxford.  
"What?" 
 
"Never mind."  She was so wet she was going to stick to his leather 
couch if she didn't do something soon.   
 
So she did; standing, she unbuttoned the last few buttons of her silk 
blouse and dropped it to the floor. 
 
Mulder's eyes squinched shut again.  "Scu-u-u-lly, don't do that!" 
 
"Don't be such a baby, Mulder."   Toeing off her boots, she peeled 
socks and jeans off--she hadn't bothered with panties--and climbed 
into his lap. 
 
"Fat-sucking vampires," he chanted again, "Raw liver, cockroaches, 
Cancerman naked..." 
 
She rubbed her breasts on his face, shivering at the beard stubble 
that scratched softly against her nipples.  He whimpered and tried to 
take one in his mouth.  "Come on, Mulder, give it up, I want it."  
Reaching between them, she shaped his erection with her hand 
through the soft cloth.  "He wants it, too." 
 
"Sparky wants anything that moves," he moaned. 
 
She stared at him for a moment, then threw her head back and 
laughed.  "Oh, my God, Mulder, you call your cock Sparky?  I'm 
having sex with a man who has a name for his cock?" 
 
He went scarlet.  "It's just a joke, Scully," he told her defensively, his 
eyes slitted open.  "You called it 'he', I didn't." 
 
"You're so cute when you're reluctant and embarrassed," she grinned 
and squeezed--she snickered again--Sparky.  "Sparky wants it, too, 
Mulder." 
 
"I'm hungry," he whined, eyes tightly shut.  "I'm thinking about food, 
Scully, lots and lots of hot, delicious food." 
 
"Later, Sparky.  Right now I'm thinking of something hot and 
delicious too--imagine that, it involves eating, too."  Laughing, she 
bent to kiss him, sucking gently on that luscious lower lip of his--
mmm, yummy, yummy Mulder.  Why hadn't she done this before?  
Oooh, thank you, thank you, Dr. Veblein....    
 
She knew she had him when his mouth opened and he whimpered, 
deep in his throat, his hips arching up to press against her 
sex.....laughing softly, she got off his lap and led him--by the hand--
into his bedroom.  "No more desks or floors tonight, Mulder--I want 
comfort." 
 
 
The woman was insatiable.  Veblein had created a monster.   
 
Mulder was beginning to miss the Catholic Scully who gave him either 
prim or irritated looks at his more notorious double-entendres.  Who 
had been known as the Ice Queen at Quantico.  Or wherever.   
 
Looking down his belly, he saw his dick lolling against his thigh and 
sighed.  He was damned if he could think of a rational way to blame 
this on himself, but it certainly felt like he was to blame.  He was a 
slut and Scully--Scully had achieved something beyond that, 
something more historical.   
 
Charles II would have loved her, he wouldn't have had all those 
mistresses and gotten England into a hell of a mess.  Too, his queen, 
being Catholic, would have loved her.  Hell, *he* loved her, but he was 
so tired right now he wanted to curl up into a ball and pretend he was 
about six, waiting to be tucked in. 
 
Scully's voice drifted in from where she was paying the delivery boy.   
 
It was taking an awfully long time; he wondered if she had offered 
anything more than a tip.   
 
He wondered whether or not she'd let him keep his sweats on if he 
got up and got dressed again.  It hardly seemed worth the effort, 
otherwise.   All that energy to get to the dresser--she was wearing 
the ones she'd taken off him earlier, if she was still wearing them, and 
he was tired enough that even his most vivid image of Scully boffing 
the delivery boy stirred not a trace of interest in that possibility.  All 
that energy to pull a shirt over his head and pants over his hips.  He 
wondered how many calories he'd burned today on sex alone; he was 
beginning to understand why those people had starved to death. 
 
"Ta da!"  Scully stood in the doorway, beaming, holding up a large 
plastic bag.  "Come on, Sparky, you gotta keep your strength up, we 
don't want you starving to death." 
 
She did that all the time, picking thoughts right out of his head.  
 
Usually he found it charming.  Tonight, he snarled wordlessly at her 
and put a pillow over his head. 
 
"Ooh, Mulder, what's the matter."  Her voice was a ridiculous croon.  
"Don't be upset, you're just too delicious to resist."  She petted him 
like he was a cat, warm hand down his spine, making him shiver as 
that warmth made his body respond.... 
 
No, no, dammit, think of--think of liver flukes, think of sewage, think 
of giant human flukes....no, wait, she was shifting the bedclothes, she 
was pulling them over him and tucking him in.  Sighing, he lifted the 
pillow off his head and eyed her. 
 
"Poor Sparky," she crooned again, "His blood sugar's all low and he's 
tired." 
 
He might have fallen for it, but for the wicked gleam in her eye.  "Oh, 
shut up," he told her crossly.  "Gimme the food."  
 
Grinning, she handed him a pair of chopsticks, fluffed the pillows for 
him, and let him lean back while she handed him a couple of small 
containers.  "That's for starters," she told him and snickered.  "I 
mean it, Mulder, your blood sugar has to be rock bottom.  I haven't 
ever seen you quite this cranky, except for when you were tripping 
on your own tap water." 
 
He stuck his tongue out, thought better of it and yanked it back in 
before she got other ideas.   
 
His stomach felt like it was plastered to his backbone and the smells 
from the containers were making it rumble.  "I never even got lunch," 
he complained and opened one container--ah, shrimp lo mein, 
maybe she did love him.... 
 
Scully cocked an eyebrow at him, sitting crosslegged on the bed, a 
morsel of chicken almond halfway to her mouth.  "You were busy 
getting your ass stuffed at lunch time."   His mouth was too full to 
comment on that, so he contented himself with a glare.  "Next time, 
go down on him, you need the protein." 
 
"Very funny, Miss I Did Pendrell.  Next thing I know, you'll be doing 
that prick, Colton." 
 
"Nah, my roommate dated him, not much of an endowment and no 
staying power."  Her eyes glinted merrily.  "Now, if *you* did Colton--
oooh, Mulder, the best revenge is living well." 
 
"I don't even like, Colton," he retorted and took another bite.  Maybe 
she was partly right, anyway, about his blood sugar.  He was starting 
to feel better already, less morose, less--resigned.   
 
"So what?  He's got a cute butt.  You don't have to go steady, just 
rattle his cage."  She was developing more enthusiasm for this 
bizarre notion; she was beginning to frighten him a little.  "No, think 
about it, Mulder.  If he reacts to you, take him almost all the way 
there.....then drop him."   
 
God, women were evil, truly evil.  "Have you been like this all along, or 
is this the result of Veblein's weird virus?" 
 
Another merry smile.  "I've been like this all along.  Count yourself 
lucky.  Think of the things I could have done to you early in our 
partnership." 
 
He did.  "Well, you did rush into my motel room and drop your robe.  
Fortunately, I still thought you were spying on me, so I thought 
twice." 
 
She grinned.  "Eat, eat, you need your strength." 
 
"I need my sleep."  He lifted his chin stubbornly.  "Sleep, Scully.  I'm 
going to finish eating and I'm going to sleep." 
 
"Me, too," she sighed gustily.  "I'm worn out."  But that little smile 
played around her lips. 
 
"Not here, you aren't," he told her warningly. 
 
She only smiled again. 
 
 
When Mulder woke up, he found himself buried in Scully's wetness, 
her silky little bottom bumping against his belly.  Oh, shit, oh, shit, it 
was happening now in his sleep?  No, that minx must have done it, 
the woman was insatiable--but then, she made a blurry, sleepy 
sound, as if she'd been asleep.   
 
Glancing at the clock, he found it was only two ack emma.  And he 
was having sex again.  That made seven times in twelve hours.  
Some kind of record for a thirty-something guy.... 
 
Her hair brushed his chest.  "Ooooh," a brief intake of breath, 
"Mulder, you could have at least woken me up." 
 
"It wasn't me."  His brain screamed that they were in worse trouble 
than ever if their bodies had started acting on their own, but pleasure 
kept him paralyzed, except for his hips.  "Scully, we're like those rats 
with the electrodes in their pleasure centers." 
 
She was breathing hard.  "Don't be ridiculous, Mulder, your tail isn't 
long and scaly." 
 
Not only had their bodies started without them, they'd started well 
ahead of the time they'd woken up.  He was soooo close, he was 
whimpering again.  Burying his face in her hair, he concentrated on 
her slick heat.   
 
Oh, shit, if his body was starting without him, that meant that the 
condoms were still in the bedside drawer.  If he still had any.  Shit, 
shit, well, thanks to the modern wonder of transfusions, he got tested 
regularly and he was clean.  Still, he ought to mention it.   
 
"Scully, I hate to be the one to interrupt the proceedings, but we're 
riding bareback."  She tightened down on him, excruciating pleasure 
to his poor, oversensitive cock. 
 
"Fuck it, Mulder, I'm on the pill and your tests have all been clean."  
She bumped back against him; somehow, his hand was between her 
legs, stroking her, feeling the place where their bodies joined.  "And 
fuck me." 
 
He obliged, driving into her again and again until he could feel himself 
teetering on the edge, barely able to hold back for her;  suddenly, 
she stiffened against him, crying out softly and it was all over.  
Burying his face in her neck, he came and came and came.....he 
thought he was going to pass out, slick and hot and wet and, god, 
completely bare inside her, filling her with his cum.   
 
"Godgodgodgodgodgod...."  Colors sparkled behind his eyelids--well, 
if he was going to turn into the love machine, at least it was good for 
him, too. 
 
"Mulder," she finally purred, "That was very nice." 
 
"I'm innocent."  Exhaustion dragged at his voice.  "Scully, put 
something on, I can't do this all night, I'll die.  People can die of 
exhaustion, ya know." 
 
"Pooh."  But she got out of bed in the dark; he heard her rummaging 
in his dresser and when she came back, she was wearing a t-shirt 
and boxers.  One frail layer of cloth, but it might prevent whatever 
had just happened from happening again. 
 
Closing his eyes, he put a companionable arm around her and sank 
back into sleep, dreaming of people chasing him, people who 
inevitably took their clothes off..... 
 
 
Mulder was uncharacteristically subdued all morning in the office; she 
was tired, herself, tired enough that it took her nearly two hours to 
realize that Mulder was just plain exhausted, and that only when she 
looked up to find him falling face down on his desk. 
 
"Ow!"  Jerking back so quickly he almost knocked his chair over, he 
put his hand over his nose; by the time she reached him, she was 
appalled to realized that he was crying like a little kid.  "Id's bad eduff 
that by dick hurts, and I cad't sit dowd, now my dose is broken!" 
 
It took a moment for her to translate this into "It's bad enough that 
my dick hurts and I can't sit down, now my nose is broken".  When 
she did, she had to bite back a brief urge to giggle, mercifully quelled 
by his distress.  Well, whatever else she was becoming, at least she 
wasn't turning into Phoebe. 
 
"No, no, it's not broken--"  Snatching a handful of tissues, she tried to 
pry his hand free to get a look at the injury.  "Mulder, let me look at 
it--there, see, it's not broken." 
 
He held out his hand, tears streaming.  "It's bleeding," he wept. 
 
"There, there."  Pressing a balled up tissue under his nose, Scully 
winced.  Had she actually said "there, there"?  Yes, she was afraid 
she had.   
 
"It's all right, Mulder, come on over here and lie down."  On the 
reprehensible couch the maintenance folks had unearthed about a 
month ago.  The couch she refused to sit on, despite the bright batik 
cloth Mulder had thrown over it.  Perhaps *because* of the bright 
batik cloth.  His sense of color was deplorable.  Just look at his ties. 
 
"I'm all right," he agreed, sniffling.  "I'm just tired."  He gave her a 
truly pitiful look and followed her over to the couch. 
 
Coaxing him into lying down was relatively easy; covering him with 
his overcoat, she sat down beside him, tilting his chin up to examine 
the damage.  "Just a little nosebleed," she soothed. 
 
He nodded, clearly embarrassed.   "I'm all right, Scully."   
 
"Of course you are," she patted his cheek.  "I'm going to run up to 
the cafeteria and get some ice, Mulder.  You really whacked it, it's 
bleeding pretty bad."  Wadding up another tissue, she replaced the 
blood soaked piece. 
 
He gave her a suffering look and nodded.  "Okay.  Don't be too long." 
 
 "Just close your eyes and try to rest a minute, okay?" 
 
"Okay."  His eyes were already closing as she stood up, the distress 
smoothing away from his features as he drifted back into sleep. 
 
Poor Mulder.   
 
She supposed he would have been all right with just the 2:00 am 
tango, but 4:00 and 6:00 had clearly done him in.  It must be related 
to physiological differences between the genders; she was a little 
tired, but felt great, otherwise; she was going to have to take better 
care of him, protect him from her own baser instincts..... 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 6/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Kimberly's call had woken Mulder abruptly and he'd jerked up off the 
couch so fast his nose had started bleeding again.  "Mulder." 
 
"Agent Mulder?"  Kimberly's tone was puzzled.   "Is that you?" 
 
"Yes."  
 
"Oh, it didn't sound like you."  She sighed.  "I'm afraid the Assistant 
Director would like to see you in his office now." 
 
He almost moaned--not today, he begged silently, oh, please, I'm so 
goddamned tired....  "Now?" he asked, his tone pathetic. 
 
"Now," she agreed.  "Agent Mulder, do you have a cold?" 
 
"No, I have a nosebleed."    He wondered if Kimberly could plead 
sickness on his behalf, but her next words dashed those hopes. 
 
"I'll tell him you'll be right up."  Click. 
 
Looking around, he realized that Scully had been gone almost an 
hour.  She'd abandoned him in search of a good time, no doubt.  
Hell, hell, bloody, raging, fucking hell.   
 
Sulking, he took his time, stopping in the men's room to wash his 
face and make sure he'd stopped bleeding again.  He had, but now it 
felt like he had a plum-sized clot in his nose, and where the hell was 
Scully with the ice? 
 
Waylaid, no doubt, with the emphasis on laid--even sulkier, he dried 
his face and hands and cheered himself up by making the 
wastebasket with the balled up paper towel on the first shot. 
 
It didn't cheer him much--he was so tired, he felt queasy.  Pushing 
the door open, he went back out in the hall, passing the copiers--and 
the copier repair man--oh, god, he'd noticed the copier repairman's 
ass, he'd noticed the copier repairman's ass--on his way to the 
stairs--he was afraid of elevators these days, after his experience in 
his building.... 
 
The guy grinned at him.  "Hi, I didn't know there were offices down 
here."   
 
Mulder paused, not wanting to be rude--the kid really had a nice ass, 
nice and firm and high--oh, shit, stop that.  "Just the one," he told 
him nervously. 
 
"Ah, that's why all these babies are out in the halls.  I bet you didn't 
know these things are almost as complex as a computer these days." 
 
No, in fact, he hadn't.  In fact, he hadn't given it much thought at all. 
 
Backing away, he headed for the stairs, opening the door as the kid 
followed him.   
 
"They're very complex," he was saying--god, god, he was following 
Mulder up the stairs.  "You know, I could always use another pair of 
hands to help me with my tools," he was saying, and Mulder groaned 
inwardly.    
 
What?--Was it like being in heat?  Everyone he passed got a whiff 
and went crazy, started to hump his leg? 
 
"Or maybe you could show me how good you are with tools," the kid 
added, eyeing him hopefully. 
 
"Sorry, gotta go see my boss."  Reaching the landing, Mulder bolted 
across, pushing open the exit from the stairwell.  "Maybe next time, 
take care."  Slamming the door shut, he wiped his forehead and 
sighed before moving across the hall to the main elevator bank.   
 
They were always busy, surely he'd be safe enough in a crowd.  
Wouldn't he?  Sure, he would. 
 
Not many people in the lobby, thank whatever gods might be, and the 
elevator binged almost immediately.   
 
Darting inside, he politely held the Door Open button down as three 
people headed his way.  Two women and one man.  They assumed 
the carefully blank stares of the urban elevator commuter and he 
relaxed, taking in slow deep breaths.   
 
They stopped at 2 and three more people got on, necessitating some 
shifting.  One of the men who got on, stepped in to stand behind him.  
He moved sideways, against the rail, nodding politely at the two 
women who stood in front of him.   
 
As the door was closing, another man and woman got on; he didn't 
recognize any of his fellow riders, and was just as happy to have it 
that way. 
 
Except that the woman directly in front of him had to move back to 
let the last two on and he could swear she was rubbing her bottom 
against him.   
 
Nah, he was getting paranoid.  Although the guy behind him was 
awfully close, he kept bumping against Mulder's ass.   
 
Paranoia, he sang silently, to the tune of Fascination, paranoia, 
you're suffering paranoia, paranoia--no, the woman in front of him 
was definitely rubbing her ass against him and Sparky, being the 
completely unhibited fool that he was, was perking up.  Shit, shit, oh, 
hell....... 
 
"You know," someone from the back said, his voice strained, "Just 
last week this elevator got stuck between three and four." 
 
The elevator stopped at three and another man got on.  "Did it?" 
asked a woman from the other side, sounding a little breathless. 
 
The man who had just gotten on, turned to eye Mulder speculatively.  
God, it *was* like being in heat, and everyone was sniffing around 
him....he should have gotten off at three, he just knew it--dread 
knotted his belly and he shifted from foot to foot. 
 
"They had maintenance last week after that," he told the elevator at 
large, trying to get away from the woman in front without bumping his 
ass against the man in back.  No luck.  He was trapped.  And 
someone was petting his arm.  Sliding his eyes sideways, he gulped; 
it was the guy next to him. 
 
"Nice fabric," the man murmured.  "Where do you get your suits?" 
 
Someone giggled--god, it was the woman in front of him.  She leaned 
forward slightly, grinding herself into him and making him bite back a 
whimper, and the elevator came to a screeching halt. 
 
Someone was petting his hair and a hand was stroking his ass.  The 
woman in front turned to face him.  "You know," she told him huskily, 
"I've always liked to think of a man's suit as the gift wrap, and the tie 
is just the big bow on top, waiting for me to untie it."   
 
He gulped again, made the mistake of backing up and felt the 
unmistakable shape of somebody's erection pressed into the cleft of 
his buttocks.  Oh, shit.  Ohshitohshitohshit.   
 
The woman's hands came up, rubbing his lapels; they moved to his 
tie and slowly, sensually, untied it.  She really *was* attractive, nice 
mouth, luscious breasts.... 
 
He whimpered. 
 
The guy petting his arm smiled slowly at him.  "I never had the 
patience for unwrapping things slowly," he purred, "I always just tore 
the bow and paper off." 
 
Ohshitohshitohshit...... 
 
The woman holding his tie, smiled back at the petter.  "I'd sure like to 
see that." 
 
There was a collective hush.   
 
"You two are hogging him," someone said indignantly--he was too 
dazed to be able to recognize the gender.   
 
The petter reached up to take hold of his jacket, hand closing around 
the fabric.... 
 
Oooh, his suit was going to be ruined if he wasn't careful and this one 
was one of his favorites.  "Wait," he cried desperately.  "Okay, okay, 
*I'll* unwrap me."  He could swear every pair of eyes in the elevator 
gleamed more brightly, all of them turned in his direction.   
 
God, he had to get to Veblein, there had to be something to stop this 
damned virus.  Or whatever it was. 
 
"Everybody get naked," a woman's voice cooed.  "I've got a package 
of condoms and some lube--my boyfriend and I were going out of 
town after work tonight, but I think he'll forgive the sacrifice." 
 
Oh, god, he had to get to Veblein.  Or a hermitage.  Or something.  
Clothes were flying every which way--wincing, he carefully tucked his 
over the rail, jumping when a hand parted his buttocks.   
 
Oh, great, the guy in back.....the woman in front, breasts bobbing 
enchantingly, nipples perky and delighted to see him, knelt in front of 
him and took Sparky in her mouth. 
 
Oh, god, warm and wet and silky and ooooh..... 
 
Sparky, traitor that he was, responded instantly and Mulder moaned, 
leaning back on the fingers that were lubing him up--oh, god, he 
wished he dared shoot somebody, preferably either Veblein or 
himself.  After whatever was happening right now was over, that is--
oooh, why the hell did it have to feel soooo good? 
 
He was worse than a slut, but he couldn't think of a term to properly 
describe himself.  Somebody's fingers went inside his mouth and he 
sucked on them; somebody's cock went inside his ass in one, swift 
movement that made him yelp.  Strong hands played with his 
nipples.... 
 
"Sorry," a voice murmured in his ear, "Ooh, you're so good, baby, 
tighten down on me like that again." 
 
He whimpered.  The man who'd been petting him was licking the 
insides of his thighs, moving up to the juncture of them--ogodogod 
ogodogod--while somebody else--ohmigod, look at the size of that 
thing, was everyone in the world except him hung like a torpedo 
sub?--fucked him.   
 
Two women in the back were fondling each other madly while one got 
fucked from behind.   
 
Another woman had her legs wrapped around another guy's hips 
while he thrust, holding his head to her breast while she moaned...... 
 
Ogodogodogod, this was like one of his wild fantasies, why wasn't he 
happier about it--ogodogodogod, somebody was licking his balls, it 
was an incredible sensation, like liquid heat, and the guy in back 
pronging him knew what he was doing, too......god, someone was 
licking his feet, and the guy who'd been petting him was now 
humping his leg..... 
 
Ogodogodogod, he was weak, he was shameless, it felt so fucking 
incredible, he pushed back against the guy fucking him, thrust 
forward into the warm, wet mouth of the woman who'd wanted to 
unwrap him---he was worse than whatever was worse than a slut, he 
didn't even know anybody's name!! 
 
 
The elevator was stopped for an hour.   When the maintenance crew 
finally showed up, Mulder had, by conservative count, been fucked by 
every man in the place and done some deep, investigative probing of 
every woman.  He wished he was dead.  Although, the way he felt, he 
might well be. 
 
"We'll have you out in just a couple of minutes,  folks."    
 
The voice from above echoed down; for a moment, Mulder blearily 
confused it with the voice of God.   
 
Yeah, right....although it did make for an interesting few moments 
while people searched frantically for their clothing.  His only 
consolation was that he was able to lay hands on his own easily and 
quickly, fingercombing his hair hastily as the elevator began to creak 
upward.    
 
That sense of consolation increased when he saw people struggling 
over underwear,  pantyhose, and shoes, saw the woman who had 
donated the condoms and lube frantically stuffing discarded condoms 
into her shopping bag--ha, he thought and shifted uncomfortably.  
His ass hurt.  Reaching up, he tied his tie, squinting into the blurred 
reflection on polished steel of the elevator wall to get it straight.  
There, he looked fine now. 
 
But at least everyone else looked like he felt.  Rumpled--god, people 
were wearing mismatched shoes, one woman had forgotten her 
pantyhouse.   
 
When the door opened, he stepped out, nodding politely at the 
maintenance crew, who stared dumbfounded at the elevator 
occupants.  Well they might; taking in a lungful of fresh air, he 
realized that the confined space smelled of sex and musk--no wonder 
his ass was so sore. 
 
At least Skinner would only fuck him once or twice--please let it be 
once, he prayed silently, please, nodding as he passed Kimberly, 
who gave him a funny look, then looked again.   He wondered about 
that, but was too tired to pursue it.  Too tired and too frightened. 
 
God, he was so tired, death was starting to look good.  And he still 
needed to get back out to Verlaine to get that goddamned Veblein! 
 
Stepping inside Skinner's office, he tried to look alert.  "You wanted 
to see me, sir?"    
 
Oh, shit--that cigarette smoking bastard was standing in the corner 
again and Skinner looked unhappy.  Very unhappy.  Very, very 
unhappy. 
 
"Agent Mulder."  He took off his glasses and slanted a look back at 
the corner.  "What progress have you made on your investigation of 
the Verlaine chemists' deaths?" 
 
Sinking back into a chair--oh, god, please don't let me find out 
Cancerman turns me on, he prayed--he struggled to gather his 
scattered wits.  "Well, the deaths appear to be related to a compound 
originally developed by Dr. Veblein." 
 
"A perfume compound."  The smoking man emerged from the 
shadows, moved to stand in front of Mulder.  
 
To Mulder's tremendous relief, he felt only nausea.   
 
Good boy, Sparky, he approved and tried to release his white 
knuckled grip on the arms of the chair.  "A perfume compound 
containing some kind of viral material," he countered.  "Viral material 
that may have been specifically developed to cause genetic changes 
in those to whom it's administered."  He swallowed hard.  "What we 
don't know is why, or whether or not the effects are what they're 
supposed to be." 
 
The smoking man smiled at him; to Mulder's horror, he saw the man's 
cheeks were slightly flushed.   
 
Opleaseopleaseoplease, don't let him come on to me....that's all I 
ask, proof of a benevolent deity, don't let him come on to me.... 
 
As if cued by that thought, Cancerman leaned forward, reached out 
to brush Mulder's hair back from his forehead.  He froze, a deer in 
the headlights, a rabbit confronted by a predator, and flung one 
panicked look toward Skinner, whose mouth was slowly dropping 
open in unconcealed astonishment. 
 
"You remind me so much of your mother," Cancerman murmured 
and touched his face again, making him shudder.  "It's a pity you 
don't have more of her gentle personality."  Another touch from 
clammy fingers. 
 
Ooooh, he was way past simple nausea now, well into actual 
sickness.  And Skinner appeared too stunned to do him any good.  
"My mother isn't as gentle as you might think."  Oh, great comeback, 
Mulder, let's open up *that* subject for discussion, shall we....you 
don't want to know.... 
 
Another caress, this time down the side of his throat.   
 
There was an avid gleam in the man's eyes that made his stomach 
twist further into a knot.  Opleaseopleaseoplease.....he gave Skinner 
another look of mute appeal, oh, god, the bastard was leaning toward 
him...."Sir?" he squeaked, still appealing to Skinner, jerking the chair 
back about three inches, shivering like a beaten pup.  He wasn't 
going to have to do this, was he?  God, at least he didn't want to, that 
was the first positive thing since Veblein smeared that shit on him.... 
 
"Come, now, Mr. Mulder, surely we can come to some 
accommodation," Cancerman purred, reached down and pinched 
one of Mulder's nipples through his shirt.  Shirts.   It made him jerk 
the chair back again, but the bastard kept moving forward, crowding 
in on him.... 
 
And he'd purred.  Eeeew, he'd purred.  It was sexy when Scully did it.  
It was sexy when Skinner did it.  But this only cranked up his nausea 
another notch.  "Did you have something to do with this?" he asked 
desperately.  "With Veblein's research?" 
 
Cancerman closed the distance between them again, stood directly 
in front of him, cupping the back of his head with one hand in a 
gesture too evocative of what he wanted.  One hand dropped to his 
waist and Mulder's eyes followed it, widening with horror. 
 
"Wait just a minute," Skinner had roused from stasis, his expression 
indignant.  "Back off!" 
 
That's right, Mulder thought, briefly relieved, my ass is his....omigod, 
no, the bastard *was* fumbling with his belt.   
 
Skinner came up out of his chair, moving around to the front of the 
desk.  "I said back off!" 
 
Cancerman smirked at him.  Eeew, that was worse than the purr. 
 
"Excuse me, sir," Mulder managed to croak; there was only one thing 
left to do and he did it gladly.   
 
Leaning forward, he threw up on the smoking man's shoes, narrowly 
avoiding his own, and then bolted from the room, heading for the 
men's room as if the hounds of hell were at his heels..... 
 
In the bathroom, he lost what was left of his breakfast and then 
sagged against the side of the stall.  The door opened and he braced 
himself, trying to pump enough strength to simply punch the bastard 
in the nose.   
 
But it was Skinner, his expression amused, a glass of water in his 
hand.  "Mulder, that was absolutely priceless.  I've been wanting to do 
that since I took this job."  He hunkered down and gave Mulder the 
glass. 
 
After rinsing and spitting, Mulder gave him a wary look.   "Did you 
know he was going to do that?" 
 
"Hell, no!"  Skinner reached out, patted his cheek.  "Your color's a 
little better--how do you feel?" 
 
"Better."  He took a drink of the water, ice cold and tasting wonderful.  
"Thanks."  Grudgingly. 
 
Skinner grinned.  "De nada.   The only thing you could have done 
better was to piss on his shoes." 
 
"I take it I'm not on suspension or fired or anything."  Mulder drank 
again, eyeing his boss. 
 
Damn, Skinner's sleeves were rolled up again, baring those muscular 
forearms.  Muscular, hairy forearms.   Muscular, hairy, strong, sexy 
forearms--god, stop that, you can't even stand up, let alone get it 
up.... 
 
"Nope."  Skinner's grin broke through again.  "I might even 
recommend a raise."  He rose and held out a hand to help Mulder to 
his feet.  "You look pretty tired--Scully wearing you out?" 
 
Mulder choked on the water.  "Um," he managed and narrowed his 
eyes.  "She told you?" 
 
Skinner's eyes danced.  "She told me.  She told you?" 
 
Mulder nodded grudgingly.  "Yeah.  Now do you believe me about this 
stuff?" 
 
"Let's say I'm withholding disbelief."  Skinner smiled faintly.  "Let's 
get out of here, Mulder.  I'm going to lunch, the maintenance people 
are cleaning up my office." 
 
Mulder blushed.  "I'm sorry." 
 
"Don't be.  You should have seen the look on his face."  Skinner 
gestured for him to precede; as Mulder walked ahead of him, he 
jumped as strong fingers gently goosed him on a tender spot.  "Nice 
butt, Mulder." 
 
Think of Tooms, think of green blood, oozing like a toxic vapor--okay, 
he was okay.... 
 
But he was scarlet when he emerged from the bathroom.   Standing 
out in the hall, Kimberly gave him a worried look.  "Are you all right, 
Agent Mulder?" 
 
"Yeah, something I ate must have disagreed with me."   Now, he was 
really embarrassed.  Crying in front of Scully, throwing up in front of 
Skinner and Scully.....fucking them both....having an orgy in the 
elevator....what was he going to do next? 
 
"You'd better take the rest of the day off," Skinner murmured, 
slanting Mulder a wicked look. 
 
He opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded.  It would serve Scully 
right if he just vanished the rest of the day, just reward for 
abandoning him like that.  "Okay," he told Skinner meekly.  "You're 
right.  Thank you, sir." 
 
Skinner's mouth twitched.  "Get some rest, Mulder." 
 
He fled before anyone could change his mind. 
 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 7/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
On her way to the cafeteria,  Scully was hailed by an acquaintance 
from Quantico, Angela Chin, from Kidnapping.   "Hey, Dana, can I 
bother you for a minute?" 
 
Pausing at the office door, Scully arched an eyebrow.  "Sure, what's 
up?" 
 
Angela raked a hand through long dark hair.  "This damned autopsy 
report."  She gave Scully a thoughtful look.  "You and Mulder see a 
lot of weird stuff, right?" 
 
Scully's mouth crimped.  "Yeah, what's the story?" 
 
"Somebody drowned in a room without water, another locked door 
mystery."  Angela sighed.  "The pathologist who covered this one 
swears the guy drowned--sea water in his lungs, no less--but there 
was no detectable method of entry and the door and windows were 
locked."  She looked Scully in the eye.  "So take a look, see if I'm 
crazy, or if the pathologist missed something."   
 
The folder in her hand trembled briefly; Scully felt that weird tingling 
that she had begun to recognize as her reponse to someone else's 
sexual readiness, and it fed her own, just lately a constant companion 
beneath her conscious thoughts.    
 
Angela?  God, things were really getting strange--she took the folder 
hastily and opened it, reading rapidly; only when she flipped the page 
over did she realize that Angela had closed the office door and was 
standing very, very close. 
 
Oh, my God, she thought, delight and astonishment mingling; ooh, 
her panties were getting wet, just from the heat in Angela's eyes.  No 
way was she going to be able to concentrate on the report--tossing 
the folder to the desk, she turned to face Angela, reaching out to 
close her hand gently over Angela's wrist.   
 
It was interesting kissing a woman, soft skin like her own, warm lips 
that parted under the pressure of her tongue....Angela made a soft 
sound in her throat and put her arms around Scully's neck, pressing 
herself against Scully.   
 
Fortunately, they stood eye to eye; the pressure of Angela's breasts 
made Scully's nipples go taut, achy with desire; sliding her hand up, 
she began to unbutton Angela's blouse, touching the other woman's 
stomach with butterfly light caresses, all the while still kissing, 
sucking on each other's tongues and lips until both of them were 
breathing raggedly. 
 
Leaning back, Angela looked at her again, her mouth swollen from 
kissing.  "Wow, Dana," she murmured and reached out to unbutton 
Scully's blouse.  Jackets, blouses, bras, skirts, all flew onto the desk 
top, covering the forgotten folder; to Scully's delight, Angela also 
wore a garter belt and stockings--the puffiness of her lower lips made 
Scully's knees go weak--her own would look like that, she knew and 
bent to take one of Angela's nipples into her mouth, sucking on the 
hardening flesh as Angela stroked her hair, murmuring under her 
breath. 
 
Turning her attentions to the other nipple, she was surprised when 
Angela pushed her back and smiled, but comprehension was swift as 
Angela knelt before her, delicately parting her labia and blowing softly 
on the already slick flesh there.  She had to lean back against the 
desk, offering herself to the pointed tongue that followed the fingers, 
shuddering as Angela found her clitoris and gently sucked at it.   
 
Oh, God, this was incredible--Mulder's nose wasn't bleeding *that* 
badly, he could wait.... 
 
Whimpering, she opened her legs farther, tangling her fingers in 
Angela's hair as Angela lapped at her, tasting her juices, so 
sensitized by the activities of the last few days that she was on the 
brink of climax already.  When Angela's fingers slid into her, oh, God, 
a kind of pseudo-cock, she tightened down on them, gasping as the 
first ripples turned her bones to water.  "Ah, God, I'm coming, God, 
God, God--"  She kept her voice low by an act of will that nearly 
made her faint; Angela rose and kissed her, bent and suckled at her 
breasts, making them ache again, fingers still busy on her clitoris and 
inside her....holding on tightly, she came again, making a high, 
breathy sound that had to take the place of a scream, and then again 
and again..... 
 
God, she really had to send Veblein a nice gift, flowers, maybe, or 
candy.  Maybe a VCR and Mulder's video collection, since he 
wouldn't be needing it anymore.  It *was* his fault this had happened, 
after all, if he wasn't always chasing after X's leads, she wouldn't be 
doing this now.   
 
On the other hand, maybe she needed to do something really special 
for Mulder, too..... 
 
Withdrawing her fingers, Angela gave her an inscrutable smile and 
put them in her mouth, the Good Muffdiving Seal of 
Approval.....Going to her knees, she put her arms around Angela's 
hips, cupping the soft buttocks as she lowered her mouth to the delta 
of Angela's thighs.  Oooh, Angela was dripping as much as she was--
her tongue searched for the little hooded nubbin and found it, rolling 
her tongue over it again and again; trapped by her arms, Angela 
squirmed, gasping, squirmed and squirmed until she made a sound 
like a sob, her legs going stiff for a moment before she sagged 
against Scully, her inner thighs slick with her juices. 
 
Without taking time for more than a breath, Scully rose, steadying 
the other woman, turned her toward the desk and eased her down on 
top of it; settling herself down above Angela, head to groin, she 
dipped her hips toward Angela's mouth and was gratified to feel 
Angela's tongue probe her.   
 
Returning the favor, she used her tongue to penetrate the other 
woman, pushing it in and out and running it along the slick folds of 
flesh, feeling Angela respond in kind until they both arched up--or 
down, in her case--seeking fulfillment....one thing about it, she didn't 
have to wait like she did for some guy's dick to come back up, they 
could just keep going and going and going.... 
 
She couldn't wait to tell Mulder and see if it had the same effect on 
him that thoughts of him and Skinner had on her..... 
 
 
By the time she escaped from Angela's office--sheesh, the woman 
was insatiable--and fetched ice from the cafeteria--although Mulder 
was liable to put it down her back--she'd been gone almost two hours. 
 
No Mulder.  His coat lay abandoned on the couch.    Checking her 
voice mail, she found a message from Kimberly telling her that 
Mulder had been sent home by Skinner.  When she called, Kimberly 
informed her in a hushed voice that Mulder had thrown up in 
Skinner's office--oh, dear, now what had happened?  Had Skinner 
gotten a little too enthusiastic with his thrusts, or had he suggested 
something really depraved.....though right now it was hard to think of 
much that would meet the criteria for too depraved for either herself 
or Mulder.... 
 
She got his answering machine when she called his apartment, which 
didn't please her; setting the plastic bowl aside, she reached for her 
coat, just as the door opened and Sharon Skinner walked in. 
 
"Mrs. Skinner."  Scully arched one eyebrow, feeling a little 
uncomfortable.  After all, just yesterday afternoon, she'd been riding 
this woman's husband like a wild Comanche.   "What can I do for 
you?" 
 
"I want to talk with you about Walter."  Sharon's voice boded no 
good.  "Where's your partner, I wanted a word with him, too." 
 
Swallowing hard, Scully took a step nearer.  "He went home ill, I'm 
afraid.  Is Walt--I mean, is the Assistant Director in some sort of 
trouble again?"  Jesus, she hoped she hadn't gotten any of that 
cologne on Skinner--she could see headlines now, FBI Brass 
Arrested for Molesting Cafe Diners. 
 
"Only with me," Sharon told her menacingly.  "I saw your teeth marks 
on his shoulder, Agent Scully.  And Mulder's, too.  Now I know why 
you worked so hard to clear him." 
 
Scully's jaw dropped; Sharon looked closely at her and nodded with 
satisfaction.  "You thought I was just another FBI housewife, didn't 
you, Agent Scully.  Well, I have news for you, I'm a forensic dentist." 
 
Fortunately, there was a chair nearby; rocked, Scully sank back into 
it.  "Teeth marks," she mused.  Busted, and all because she'd bitten 
Skinner's shoulder to keep from screaming and REALLY being 
busted.  "Um, I don't know what to say, Mrs. Skinner." 
 
Sharon whipped open the trenchcoat that she was wearing and 
revealed that she was wearing nothing at but crotchless pantyhose 
and high heels.   
 
Aghast, Scully sniffed tentatively, smelling--oh, God, Veblein's 
cologne--something light and citrusy, something that made her 
nipples stand up and pay attention.   
 
"I didn't know you were that kind of girl, Agent Scully," Sharon 
purred, "I made Walter tell me all about it--he won't be sitting down 
comfortably anytime soon, I'm afraid."  She smirked. 
 
Did she want to know that about her boss and his wife?  Did she?  
Hell, yes.  Leaping up, she met Sharon Skinner in a passionate kiss.   
 
Oh, well, here went another two hours.  She hoped to God Mulder 
was just tired and not really ill.....it was going to be a while before she 
could follow up on him. 
 
 
Still chuckling to himself over the smoking man's consternation, 
Skinner paused before pressing the elevator button and decided that 
he deserved some kind of reward for letting Mulder escape for the 
rest of the day.   
 
Not to mention the fact that a certain red-headed hellion was likely to 
be steamed if no one told her where her partner was.  Punching the 
B, he leaned back against the door, thinking about Scully's soft, silky 
thighs, the way her flesh sheathed his shaft.....by the time the doors 
opened, he was already half-erect. 
 
Whistling under his breath, he proceeded to the office in the very 
back of the storage area, opened the door and nearly fell down in 
shock..... 
 
Two women lay on Mulder's disreputable and out of regs couch, a 
familiar red head nestled between the longer legs of--oh, my, God, 
Sharon--a familiar profile was visible as the woman on top arched up, 
crying out in pleasure again and again.  Why wasn't she at work?  
What in hell was she wearing?  And why, oh why, was she burying 
her head in between Scully's legs again..... 
 
The answers to these questions hardly seemed important.  Finding 
those bite marks on his shoulders had aroused the tigress he'd long 
thought gone, and if he thought he'd imagined it, he had only to drop 
trou and check the welts on his ass.   
 
Stripping off his clothes, he tossed them on a chair, pausing only to 
lock the office door before going to kneel behind his wife.   
 
Scully gave him a brief startled look that swiftly melted to approval; 
oooooh, Sharon was like molten metal, all hot and slick and tight--she 
cried out when he slid home and bit her on the nape of the neck. 
 
"Oh, Walter!" Sharon cried. 
 
Oh, God, Scully's tongue was hot and wet on his balls.  He thought he 
was going to come right then, but managed to hold back.  He had to 
hold back, there were no unmarked places left on his ass.   
 
Tightening his inner muscles, he breathed in the smell of Sharon's 
cologne and thrust hard, filling her.  If he'd known all it would take was 
doing Mulder and Scully to turn Sharon back on, he'd have had 
Mulder's ass on his desk the first week he took over from Blevins as 
AD.  And if it kept her turned on--well, Mulder and Scully were going 
to be very, very busy from now on, lots of long disciplinary sessions 
in his office.   
 
Preferably with both of them. 
 
Sharon's nipples were pebble hard under his fingertips; he rolled 
them between thumbs and forefingers, pushing in slowly and 
backthrusting more quickly.  She tossed her head and moaned, then 
bent to Scully again--he heard a series of soft cries from beneath 
him and his balls tightened.  Both of them were coming and coming 
and coming.....his analogy about the Energizer bunny had been 
particularly apt. 
 
Ooh, those two agents of his were something else.  He only wished 
Mulder was here to fuck Scully while Sharon licked them both.  And 
maybe he could invite them home to dinner, singly and together.  He 
groaned at the images thus provoked, Sharon's long legs wrapped 
around Mulder's skinny butt while he, naturally, did some further 
investigation of Mulder's sweet, tight asshole. 
 
Oooh, Scully's tongue was even more talented than he'd dreamed; 
Sharon arched her back again crying out--he thrust harder and 
harder, keeping her going, until she was so tight he couldn't hold 
back any longer and came and came, filling her--God, what an 
incredible way to start the afternoon! 
 
When, at last, he pulled out of his wife, Scully's busy little tongue 
cleaned him up, cleaned Sharon up, and Sharon whimpered and 
cried out again.   Wow, this was better than iron pills OR anti-
depressants.  This was cosmic.   
 
Whatever Mulder had discovered at Verlaine was a godsend, no 
matter what Mulder thought.... 
 
Bending, he kissed Scully's mouth deeply and leaned back, smiling 
ruefully.  "Agent Scully, I know her, she's just getting warmed up 
again--better go check on poor Mulder, I can take over here." 
 
She gave him a wicked smile.  "Are you sure, sir?"  A pointed look.  
"You seem to be out of ammo." 
 
"I have other weapons, Scully," he assured her and hauled her out, 
sliding down to take her place.  Sharon hardly seemed to notice, her 
mouth moving from Scully to him without much more than a few 
seconds pause.    Burying his face in slippery flesh, he put his 
secondary weapons to good use, whimpering when Sharon's mouth 
closed over his softening cock and brought it back to life.  He rather 
thought Scully watched that with interest for a few moments, but 
loyalty to Mulder came through. 
 
He only distantly heard the slam of the door. 
 
 
Once home, safely home, after creeping up the stairs with his gun 
drawn, Mulder put on his oldest, most tattered, age-softened sweats, 
and took a much-needed nap. 
 
The door woke him.  Rather, someone pounding on the door woke 
him.   
 
God, he hoped it wasn't Scully.  Or Skinner.  Or X.   
 
Or his graduate student neighbor, whose name he still didn't know, 
even though he'd fucked her in the elevator yesterday. 
 
As he reached the door, a voice called, "Spooks, I know you're in 
there, you can run but you can't hide." 
 
Startled, he grinned, temporarily forgetting about Verlaine, Veblein 
and his new curse.   
 
Only one person had the balls to call him Spooks and make him like 
it:  his former roommate from Quantico, Thomas K. Chesterton the 
Third, called Chester since the day he'd tripped going through the 
obstacle course, tripped and broken his ankle..... 
 
"Chester, go away."  Throwing the door open, he gasped when a tall 
man in a suit threw both arms around him and lifted him off his feet.  
"Chester, you asshole, put me down!" 
 
"Damn, Spooks, you're nothing but goddamn skin and bones, they 
working you to death out here?  Or you just been sitting in the dark 
watching videos and choking the chicken too damn much?"   
Chesterton put him down, grinning.   
 
A hair taller than Mulder, he was, Mulder had often thought, the 
stereotypical good looking blond WASP.  They had been perfect foils 
for each other--Chester was fair, he was dark, Chester was raucous, 
he was quiet, Chester went to Harvard, he'd gone to Oxford, and 
Chester was sunny, where he was chronically depressed. 
 
"Something like that," Mulder agreed, grinning back.  "Why are you 
here, waking me up from a perfectly good nap?" 
 
"I knew it, you're malingering."  Chester grabbed him again hard, 
kissed the tip of his nose and released him, turning back for his 
luggage.  "Need a favor, they've transferred me to this hell hole and I 
don't have an apartment.  Mind having a house guest for a couple of 
days?" 
 
Sparky twitched when Chesterton bent to get his bag.  Oh, dear.  
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.    
 
Backing up, Mulder swallowed hard, considering his options.  If 
Chester stayed here, he was going to have to face a real risk--but he 
*was* in control of his dick, wasn't he?  His heart sank, remembering 
that his dick appeared to be in control when he was sleeping, and 
damned near anytime else.  Like in elevators.   
 
But if Chester was here, he was safe from Scully.  And Chester could 
have his bed, he'd sleep on the couch.  God, if he had to, he could 
make use of his videos and his hand while Chester was sleeping.   
 
Reminder:  Buy new bi-sexual videos, watching women get 
mindlessly ploughed was not going to get Chester's ass out of his 
mind....."Um, well, yeah, I, ah, that would be great, Chester.  You got 
transferred back here?" 
 
Chester dropped the bags inside the door and gave him a maniacal 
grin.  He wondered briefly if Chester was going to grab him again and 
backed away, suddenly nervous.   
 
"Anti-terrorist division."  A brief grin.  "I'm the new division head.  
You still chasing the X files, Spooks?  Good, best thing for you, 
getting away from Behavioral." 
 
He swallowed hard, thought about Tooms, thought about blood-
sucking, man-eating fireflies.  Wood mites.  Whatever.  "Yeah, I'm 
still there."  And vanity reared its head.  "Technically, I'm the division 
head, even if there are only two people in it." 
 
"You shoulda been ASAC by now," Chester pronounced and 
advanced on him.  "Damn, it's good to see you."   Another crushing 
hug and Chester flung himself on the couch, yanking at his tie.   
 
"Don't you have any other friends to torment," Mulder asked, faintly 
hopeful. 
 
"Sure, but none of them has your cute little skinny butt."  Chester 
grinned at him.  "You know you want me, Spooks." 
 
Mulder swallowed.  It was only Chester's weird sense of humor, he 
told Sparky desperately, and for once, Sparky listened.  It gave him 
hope that Pendrell was wrong, that this wasn't a permanent effect, 
that he'd finally fucked himself past it.   "You?  Why the hell would I 
want you?  You speak four languages, Chester, and the only one 
you're not fluent in is English.  I still can't figure out how you got 
through Harvard." 
 
"My ass and your face," Chester retorted.  "I've been a cowboy for 
five years, Spooks, had to take on protective coloration.  Mind if I use 
your shower?  I hate fucking air travel, I always end up feeling like 
I've been dipped and battered.  Speaking of which, Spooks, you look 
a lot like you been rode hard and put up wet.  You okay?" 
 
If he only knew, Mulder thought and swallowed hard.  "Yeah, just 
tired.  Long week.  Nasty case.  You know.  Yeah, there's towels in 
the hall closet, go for it.  I'm just gonna run out to the store, pick 
some things up.   If I'm going to be feeding Bigfoot for a couple of 
days, I need to stock up." 
 
"No shit, kemo sabe," Chester agreed and got up, fumbling for his 
wallet.  "Here ya go, Spooks."  He pulled out a couple of twenties.  
"Never let it be said that I made you feed Bigfoot on your inadequate 
salary as a division head.  I coulda gone into organized crime and 
done better." 
 
Mulder grinned then.  "Go shower, I'll be back in a while." 
 
"I hear and obey, o mighty Spookster."  Chester ducked a cuff and 
grinned.  "You want another kiss, is that it?" 
 
Grabbing his trainers and jacket in terror, Mulder paused only for his 
checkbook before darting out his own front door. 
 
 
There was no answer at Mulder's door.   
 
Using her key, Scully crept quietly in, carrying her little box of 
surprises; Mulder was evidently in the shower, which was a good 
sign.  At least he had the strength to stand up.   
 
Putting the box on the bed, she undressed quickly and padded 
barefoot down the hall to the bathroom, opening the door stealthily 
and slipping in behind.....a total stranger. 
 
They both screamed in surprise and stared at each other.  "Who are 
you and what have you done with Mulder?" 
 
The man....Jesus, oh, Jesus, what a man!....held the washcloth over 
his genitals and backed up against the shower head.  "I'm Tom 
Chesterton, I didn't do anything with him, he went to the store, and 
who the hell are you?" 
 
She eyed him.  Oooh, yes, there was a God, oh, what a man.  "I'm 
his partner, Dana Scully."  She held out her hand.  God, this was 
disgraceful, she was breathing hard already....she loved it.  So there, 
Sister Mary Clarette, take that! 
 
His expression bemused, Chesterton took her hand briefly.  "Ah, 
you're his partner?"  His eyes widened.  "And you get in the shower 
with him?" 
 
"We're very close," she told him, smiling sweetly.  "Just partners, 
though.  I thought I'd better check on him, he came home sick." 
 
His eyes rested on her breasts.  "Just partners," he breathed and 
swallowed visibly.  "I never ended up with a partner like you." 
 
Am I really going to do this, she wondered.  Oooh, yes, she was 
definitely going to do this.  Reaching out, she ran a fingertip 
delicately down his chest and belly, starting between his nipples.  
"And how do you know Mulder?" 
 
Chesterton licked his lips.  "Um.  We were roommates at Quantico."  
Another visible swallow.  The washcloth began to look inadequate.  
"Look, are you sure this is a good idea?  I mean, Spooks is my 
friend." 
 
"I told you, we're just partners."  Stepping closer, Scully leaned her 
head forward and licked one of his nipples.  "He won't mind.  I'm sure 
he won't mind."  Well, reasonably sure, anyway. 
 
Chesterton whimpered.  "Are you sure you aren't his girlfriend?" 
 
"Positive."  Snatching the washcloth away, Scully almost purred.  
Oooh, yes, what a man.  Cupping his balls, she rolled them gently 
between her fingers.  "Are you sure you didn't need some help with 
your shower?  Any friend of Mulder's is a friend of mine." 
 
Groaning, he bent to kiss her, his tongue sliding into her mouth 
deeply enough that she was certain he found her tonsils.  Well, he 
could have, if she still had them.... 
 
The steamy water around them only added to the heat.  Before 
things went too far, she turned off the tap and took hold of his 
rampant cock, leading him to the bedroom where, rummaging, she 
found the last of Mulder's condoms and put it to good use. 
 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 8/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Creeping back into his apartment, Mulder quickly hid his new videos 
before bringing the groceries in.  It took two trips, but Chester was a 
big eater.   
 
Only after he'd gotten the perishables safely stashed in the 
refrigerator did he realize that he was hearing an awfully familiar 
sound from his bedroom.  An horribly familiar sound.  An awfully,  
horribly, familiar sound.   
 
As he approached the open door, that sound resolved itself into 
Scully's scream of delight as she came--frozen, he watched her 
bouncing on Chesterton's cock one last time before sinking down on 
it, her head thrown back..... 
 
"Scu-u-u-u-u-llll-y, he's *my* friend!"  No, no, he hadn't meant to say 
it that way, he'd meant to say "he's my *friend*", he hoped to god 
neither of them noticed the emphasis. 
 
Two startled faces turned in his direction.  "Oh, shit, you told me he 
wouldn't mind," Chester hissed, scrambling for clothes that weren't 
there. 
 
"Mulder, didn't your mother teach you about sharing," Scully asked 
wickedly.  Shit, *she*, at least, had noticed.  Which didn't bode well 
for him. 
 
Turning on his heel, he stalked out to the livingroom to throw himself 
on the couch and sulk.  A great deal of murmuring and heated 
whispering seemed to be going on in the bedroom after his 
departure.   
 
Scully emerged at last, wearing one of *his* shirts, her hair pulled 
back in a ponytail, her face scrubbed clean, and her expression 
remorseful, like a kid about to get chewed out by her father.  "Mulder, 
I really didn't think you'd mind." 
 
"Don't mind me," he sulked, "Go right on ahead with whatever you 
were doing." 
 
She knelt beside him on the couch and ruffled his hair.  "Hey, 
partner, you know I always think of you first.  I thought it was you in 
the shower--come on, 'fess up, you're only mad because we started 
without you." 
 
It only made him madder that she was right.  "No, please, don't let 
me interfere with your pursuits, Scully."  He arched one eyebrow in 
her direction, trying not to notice the shape of her breasts under the 
shirt.  He wondered if she'd put her panties back on--stop that, 
dammit, you're mad at her!   "And by the way, where the hell was the 
fucking ice?" 
 
She had the grace to blush, eyes darting away and back.  "Um, 
sorry, Mulder,  Angela Chin asked me to look at an autopsy report." 
 
He regarded her narrowly, but his eyes widened when she squirmed.  
"Angela Chin?  The Dragon Lady?  Oh, God, Scully, have you no 
shame?"   
 
Sparky perked up at the images his mind insisted on providing.  
Scully and Chin, Chin and Scully.  Throwing his head against the 
back of the couch, he groaned in despair. 
 
"I was going to tell you all about it when I got back," she insisted, 
blushing again, but red-gold brows drew together.  "And please, Mr. I 
Fucked My Informant, let's not talk about shame." 
 
"That wasn't my fault," he protested weakly, "It was X's.  He grabbed 
me first." 
 
Her eyes glinted at him.  "And another thing, Mulder, why do you 
insist on seeing this as a bad thing?  It's gotta be livelier than 
watching videos all the time.  Can't you try to have a little fun with 
this?" 
 
He reared up, indignant again.  "A little?  A little?  Miss I Fucked 
Pendrell and Skinner and Mulder and Chin.  Oh, and lest I forget, 
Chesterton!  That's like being a little bit pregnant, Scully, you've 
scored one helluva lot more than I have in the last few days."   
 
The elevator didn't count, he told himself; it hadn't been his idea.  
Well, neither had Skinner, for that matter, and Scully had all but 
knocked him down.  Hey, none of it counted!  "Hell, you've scored 
one helluva lot more than I have in the last two years!" 
 
"I can see there's no point in trying to apologize," she told him coolly.  
"I'm going to go in and wait for you to cool off.  When you're ready, 
come in and we can talk." 
 
"In between bouts?" he snarled and got up, pacing toward the 
windows.  "God, I can't believe this, I really can't believe this.  You're 
fucking one of my best friends, in my bed, while I'm gone, and you 
expect me to cool down?" 
 
Something exploded through the window, glanced off his head--shit, 
shit, shit, now someone was shooting at him!--and buried itself 
harmlessly in the wall behind him.  Somehow, he was flat on his back, 
swearing.  "Fuck, fuck, fuck!  My life sucks!!" 
 
Scully had scrambled for his gun, still sitting on the coffee table; 
Chesterton, wearing sweats that were absurdly tight (his sweats, god, 
Chester had nice thighs, nice big, muscular thighs), stop that, 
dammit, came down the hall in a crouch, sweeping the room.  "What 
the fuck happened?" he demanded, his expression appalled. 
 
"Someone just tried to shoot Mulder." Scully's voice was taut.  She 
inched over to the windows and pulled the blinds; Mulder noted she 
still wasn't wearing panties and Sparky stirred again. 
 
"What the hell for?"  Chesterton came to kneel by him, examining his 
head intently.  "Jesus, that was close.  Double vision, Spooks?" 
 
"Not to speak of."  Mulder put a hand to his head, brought it away 
bloody.  "Shit, shit, shit.  It's not bad enough that my nipples are 
sore, that my dick is raw, that my ass...."  His voice faded away as 
Chesterton's eyes widened.  "Oh, never mind."  But he was feeling 
sorely put upon.  And sore. 
 
Scully returned, leaning over him, eyes concerned.  "Jesus, Mulder, 
that was too damned close.  Good thing your head is so hard."  She 
kissed the tip of his nose.  "And I'm sorry about the ice.  Really.  
You're right, I shouldn't have let myself be distracted." 
 
Grudgingly, he allowed himself to be mollified by the remore in her 
voice.  "Well, maybe I don't need to be so negative," he muttered. 
 
Chesterton gave them both a peculiar look.  "Spooks, about what 
happened, I'm sorry, really." 
 
He waved it off.  "Don't worry about it, we fight like this all the time.  
Only usually it's about my theories." 
 
Scully chuckled.  "And my scientific rebuttal of same.  Where else 
does it hurt, Mulder?  Let's see, your head."  She kissed near the 
spot.  "Your nose."  She kissed his nose again and her eyes glinted 
wickedly.  Oshitoshit, she was looking at him that way again.  "Your 
nipples?" 
 
Uncomfortably aware of Chesterton's bare skin, he squirmed away 
when she started to push up his sweatshirt, but--omigod--Chesterton 
lifted it anyway.  Scully gave Chester a smile of approval and bent to 
kiss his nipples.   
 
Oh, this was not good, not good at all.  No, wait, what was he 
thinking, this was very good, very good indeed--her lips tugged at 
him, making him whimper in chagrined pleasure.  "Sc-u-u-l-l-y!" 
 
She kissed his navel, tracing it with her tongue and sat up, smirking 
at him again.  "Let's get him up, Tom.  I want to take a better look at 
his head." 
 
Relieved in spite of the smirk, Mulder sagged back against 
Chesterton's  arm, let himself be eased to his feet.  The room 
blurred; he closed his eyes as a lightning bolt of pain shot through his 
skull. "Oooh, guys, I think I was wrong about the double vision."  He 
blinked and things resolved themselves into single units again.  "That 
goddamn X, I know that's who it was." 
 
"Who's X?" Chesterton wanted to know.  "And shouldn't we be calling 
the police?" 
 
"No point," Scully told him, "It was probably Mulder's informant."  Her 
shoulder went under his arm, oh, shit, she felt so nice and cuddly and 
he could smell her skin, smell her sex....  "Let's get him into the 
bedroom, Tom, I want him on his back."  
 
Squinting at her suspiciously, Mulder was certain that he saw her 
smirk again, but Chesterton only muttered assent, steadying him 
from the other side. 
 
Once he was on the bed, the room stopped spinning around him.  
They peered at him in concern and Scully vanished for the medical 
supplies she kept under his bathroom sink. 
 
"You were pretty goddamn lucky, Spooks," Chesterton leaned over 
him, that bare, hairy chest tantalizing him.   Down, Sparky, down--
oh, God, Chester had drawn back and was regarding him 
worriedly...."Why the hell would your informant try and shoot you?" 
 
"Because I fucked him."  Mulder closed his mouth in horror.  Had he 
really said that?  Really?  To Chester?  Oh, god, he was going to 
have to kill one of his best friends, he didn't want *anyone* knowing 
about *that*!  His mouth rambled on, ignoring him.  "You know guys 
like that, they always gotta be on top."  God, he'd suffered brain 
damage, on top of everything, his traitor mouth just kept rolling along, 
completely out of control.  "No way was he going to get on top of me, 
he has this incredible monster dick...." 
 
Oh, shit.  Oh, shit.  Chester's eyes had gone really, really, really 
wide.  "Spooks?" he asked, his voice strained.  "Did you just say 
what I think you said?" 
 
"No," he said promptly and looked around Chesterton's bulk for 
Scully, for distraction.  Shit, he had to have fish, a dog could have 
romped in here and provided some.  There was no hope of getting 
out of this one. 
 
Chesterton's eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched.  "Spooks, I'm 
shocked.  I never thought you were that kind of guy." 
 
His heart sank.   Great.  It wasn't like he had that many friends to 
spare.  And now he'd lost one.  Despite the pain, he rolled over on his 
belly and covered his head with his arms.  "It's worse than you know, 
Chester," he told his friend, his voice muffled.  "Skinner fucked me 
just yesterday on his conference table." 
 
"Skinner?  Walter S. Skinner?  Walter the Hard Nosed Marine 
Skinner?"  Chesterton's voice was incredulous.  "He fucked you?  On 
his conference table?" 
 
"Yeah."  Mulder found himself sniffling.  "And it isn't even really my 
fault, it's that fucker Veblein and his aphrodisiac virus."  Some 
thought tickled the back of his mind, but he was too miserable to pay 
attention to it.  "I didn't even know I was attracted to Skinner, ya 
know, I couldn't believe it.  Or my informant--he just grabbed me, 
dammit, and what was I supposed to do?  He's a great big handsome 
African American guy, and he knew how to give head like--god, like 
he was deep throating me, it was incredible." 
 
A big hand patted his back awkwardly, trying to give comfort.  "'S 
okay, Spooks, these things happen.  You're just the guy who can't 
say no."   
 
Now, he *really* felt miserable.   It was true, he *couldn't* say no, 
just look what had happened in the elevator today.  Pressing his face 
into the bedspread, he sniffled again until Scully returned. 
 
"What did you do to him?" she demanded of Chesterton. 
 
"Nothing!"  Chesterton sounded worried again.  "He started telling me 
about why his informant wanted to kill him, he rolled over and started 
to cry.  Hey, dammit, Spooks, don't fall apart on me now, it's your old 
buddy, Chester." 
 
"There's only one thing to do," Scully declared.  The wicked note 
underlying her serious tone made him stop sniffling; his ears 
practically came to a point--he knew that tone of voice, knew it and 
feared it and felt the most disconcerting sense of anticipation at 
hearing it.  "You've got to show him, Tom, he never listens to anyone 
when he's like this."   
 
When he's like this?  Mulder blinked at the bedspread.  When he's 
like this?  He almost rolled over in indignation, but fascination held 
him still.  What was she up to?  Something really evil, right on a par 
with him pretending to seduce Colton, that was why he recognized 
that tone of voice.... 
 
Scully's voice went solemn now.  "You have to show him, Tom, 
actions speak louder than words, he just gets so upset he doesn't 
hear them.  But he's a very tactile person." 
 
He suddenly realized what she was doing, what nefarious plan she'd 
hatched.  Chester.  Him.  Her.   
 
Oh.  My.  God.   
 
"Show him?"  Chesterton's voice was a little strained again. 
 
"Give him a hug," Scully urged.  "Show him you're still his friend." 
 
Mulder shivered and closed his eyes.  Oh. My. God.  This wasn't his 
partner, this was his partner's evil twin.   
 
Very evil twin.    
 
He had to bite down on the bedspread to keep from whimpering as 
Chesterton's arms went around him.  Sparky was definitely standing 
at attention, the slug, the complete and utter moron, rubbing against 
the bed through his shorts and sweats. 
 
"I'm still your friend, Spooks," Chester muttered in his ear, warm 
breath making him shiver again.  "Dammit, you know that!"  He 
stroked Mulder's hair awkwardly.  "C'mon, Spooks, don't be upset, 
you know I ain't gonna judge you." 
 
He nodded, bedspread still in his teeth.  Scully, perched on the other 
side, grinned briefly, he could see it through the gap between his 
arms.    
 
"He's just experiencing a lot of confusion over this whole thing," she 
told Chester consolingly, sighing with just the right touch of pathos.  
"He doesn't think a real man should like getting fucked by his boss on 
the conference table.  He doesn't think he's a real man anymore.  
Because he liked it." 
 
Oh.  Bloody.  Fucking.  Hell.  She had to say that, didn't she.  And 
had she always had this talent for prevarication?  Had he somehow 
missed it until now?  No, wait, there was the time she'd told Skinner 
she was with him when he was allegedly beating Tooms up.   
 
That should have warned him.  He peered at her again, saw her 
regarding Chesterton solemnly.   
 
"He needs reassurance."  Soft voice.  Concerned voice.  Another 
sigh. 
 
He was afraid her plan was going to work.  He was afraid it wasn't.  
Oh, god, his dick ached, his balls ached, and it wasn't just the day's 
activities, either.  It was Chesterton's weight against his back and 
ass.  He buried another whimper in the bedspread, not too 
successfully, but Chester thought he was crying again. 
 
Chester petted his hair again, that warm breath driving him crazy as 
it touched his skin.  "Spooks, man, don't do this, hey, it just means 
you like broader sexual horizons, that's all.  Hell, when I was in 
college, my frat buddies and I used to get down regularly.  Didn't you 
ever do that at Oxford?" 
 
His eyes widened; he stared at the pattern of the bedspread in 
shock.  College?  Frat buddies?  Chester? 
 
And what was it with everyone and Oxford?  Was Oxford some nest 
of subversive sexual activity and he'd missed it?  Although Phoebe 
was subversive enough, he supposed.  He shook his head, face still 
buried, afraid to look into Chester's eyes. 
 
"Well, there, see, you're just a late bloomer."  Chester nuzzled the 
nape of his neck and he whimpered again.   
 
Ogodogodogod, he wanted to do Chester, he wanted Scully to do 
Chester, Scully was right, he'd only sulked because they'd started 
without him--he was depraved, completely and utterly depraved.   
 
Chester nuzzled him again.  "Come on, Spooks, don't be like this." 
 
Like what?  So turned on his hair was standing on end?  God, if 
Chester didn't stop breathing on his neck, he was going to come right 
now..... 
 
"Maybe--"  Scully sighed, sounding sorrowful.  "No, it's too much to 
ask." 
 
"What?"  Chester was still petting his hair, still nuzzling the back of 
his neck.   
 
And, godogod, it felt amazingly good.  But however bizarre this was, 
at least he could understand being attracted to Chester, for god's 
sake, they'd been friends for years.....he whimpered again. 
 
"Well," Scully sounded reluctant now, almost embarrassed, almost 
diffident.  "Maybe if you--no, I'm sorry, it's not a good idea." 
 
He rubbed his hips against the bed again.  Yes it was, Scully, he 
begged silently.  Come on, Scully, you're doing so well, don't back off 
now! 
 
"If I what?"  Chester sounded distracted again and more of his weight 
rested on Mulder.  Oh, god, he was going to have to play it very 
carefully, or blow--he nearly giggled--whatever scam Scully was 
running.   
 
He thought he knew, he was almost sure he knew, but he didn't want 
to meddle in it, even if he was wrong. 
 
"Well, maybe if we both, you know."  Scully's tone was mildly 
suggestive, still embarrassed.  "Maybe he'd feel better." 
 
Chester's breath caught; Mulder lay very still, waiting for the crux 
point of the decision.   
 
"Hell, why not, I've loved this skinny little shit since he lost the big 
basketball playoffs for the BSU weenies."  His lips brushed Mulder's 
nape, making him shiver.  "You hear that, Spooks?  And don't let me 
hear you tell *me* I ain't a manly man." 
 
In one swift movement, Chester flipped him over, sunnyside up.   
 
God, when the man made up his mind, he made up his mind, Mulder 
thought dizzily, blinking until he could see straight again.  Straight?  
Had he lost his mind? 
 
Chesterton's mouth came down on his and he *did* whimper then, 
arching his hips upward--oh, my, god, Chester was hard again--
everybody in the world *but* him was clearly hung like a torpedo sub.  
He must have been standing behind the door when god passed out 
dick size..... 
 
Sparing a glance for his partner, he saw her smirk at him again.  But 
that was okay--she was also removing his sweat pants. 
 
Chesterton eased him up to help him take the shirt off, then back 
down again gently to straddle him, somehow having managed to shed 
his jeans in the process.  Their bodies pressed together, hard, chest  
chest, belly to belly--oh, god, cock to cock, making him gasp at the 
sensation. 
 
Chesterton's mouth moved from his, down his throat, down to nibble 
on his collar bone; Scully's mouth replaced it, her tongue exploring 
his mouth thoroughly.   
 
God, she was so beautiful, what a partner--he was going to have do 
something really, really nice for her, send flowers, take her to the 
next Knicks game, something....Chester's lips seemed to be setting 
fire to his skin, moving down an inch at a time.   
 
Reaching up under the t-shirt Scully wore, he cupped one of her 
breasts, thumbing the nipple erect--god, she was right, he was 
selfish, and here she was again, showing *him* a good time.   He 
sucked gently on her lower lip, leaned his head back to study her 
face.   
 
Her eyes were bright with more than sexual arousal; that maddening 
little smile teased her lips.  "You okay, Mulder?" 
 
He groaned and kissed her again, putting his other hand in 
Chesterton's thick hair.  Oh, god, Chesterton had reached Sparky, 
snaked his tongue around the swollen tip, licking him clean.  He 
arched into that, whimpering into Scully's mouth.   
 
She pulled back and vanished, then her legs slid past him.  Damn, 
she was too short for him to reach with his mouth; he slipped two 
fingers into her, found she was soaking, her clitoris swollen with 
need, and grazed it gently with his thumb, making her quiver.   
 
Two mouths were on him now, playfully fighting for supremacy until 
Chesterton moved lower, licking and sucking at the insides of his 
thighs, warm tongue moving up to tease his balls.....God, this was 
incredible, they had him writhing on the bed helplessly, whimpering 
almost constantly now. 
 
Turning his head, he found Chesterton's erection bobbing invitingly--
goddammit, everybody else *was* hung like this, it was going to give 
him an inferiority complex for certain; opening his mouth, he drew it 
in, feeding on it, bringing his other hand back up to stroke 
Chesteron's thighs and belly....he was going to die this way, why 
wasn't he more worried about it?   
 
On the other hand, Scully might have the right idea--at least he'd go 
happy....but no more elevators, he promised himself, fucking 
strangers was certainly explosive, but friends--ooooh, this was so 
incredibly hot, he couldn't stand it, he wanted to draw it out to last 
forever and ever and ever..... 
 
A small hand parted his buttocks; a larger hand intruded, fingers 
slippery with lube invading him, stretching him, pressing upward to 
cause a sharp pang of pleasure.  Looking down, he saw Chesterton 
look up.  "Sweet Spooks," Chester crooned, "I'm just gonna get you 
ready." 
 
Ready?  Wait a minute, he was going to get into Chester, that was 
the way things were supposed to go, not like this--the only thing that 
was going to get him ready for Chester, was the scene he'd already 
played in the elevator.....he whimpered in protest, trying to push 
himself up, but two mouths found his flesh again, teasing him with 
maddening little flicks of their tongues.....oh, hell, why not, it was 
going to be good however it went down--he nearly giggled again, but 
the sensations were too acute, too powerful. 
 
Chesterton's hands gripped his hips, lifting him up slightly so that his 
ass rested on Chesterton's thighs.  In one swift movement, Scully 
straddled him--hey, this might work, the angle made it possible for 
him to reach her with his mouth and hands.  Reaching up, he held 
onto her hips and flicked his own tongue, through the glistening folds, 
teasing Scully's clitoris; in retaliation, she took him into her mouth, 
taking all of him down--not that *that* signified much, dammit, but it 
was too painful to think of penile enlargement while she was doing 
what she was doing.... 
 
Something large and slippery probed his asshole; big hands stroked 
him from hips to thighs as it stretched him wide, pushing slowly 
inside.   
 
Oh, god, he was going to die, the pleasure was so fucking intense, it 
just kept cranking up and up each time, he really was going to fuck 
himself to death, it was just going to take longer because his partner 
was a fucking MD.....and she loved fucking, oh, god, he wasn't going 
to die, he was just going to spend the rest of his life between 
episodes of hot sex..... 
 
Chester's balls bumped his ass, Chester's groin brushed his balls, the 
coarse, curly hair causing an indescribable sensation, like X's facial 
hair.   
 
Ooooh--but *he* wasn't supposed to be getting fucked, he was 
supposed to be fucking.  He wanted to say so, but Scully pushed her 
cunt farther down on his tongue, which made it hard to say anything.  
Anything at all.  Nothing but episodes of hot sex, with small intervals 
of work and sleep worked into the relatively small space between.   
 
On the other hand, that didn't seem like such a terrible fate, except 
he'd never get anything done, never get anywhere in his search for 
the truth.....oh, god, who the fuck cared, THIS was the truth, at least 
he was beginning to think so....not that he was really capable of 
thinking anymore, not with that big rod thrusting slowly in and out of 
him, not with Chester's big hand playing with his balls, ogodogod 
ogodogod, he was such a tramp, this was so good, 
godogodogodoopleaseoplease.... 
 
Chester lifted him up a little further, groaning.  "God, Spooks, you're 
so good, so damn tight--" 
 
His legs were, no shit, in the air, his feet over Chester's shoulders.   
 
Oh, bloody, bleeding hell, *he'd* wanted to be on top.   
 
And he wasn't going to stay tight for long if people kept putting things 
in it..  He was going to be able to carry a bowling ball up his ass if 
things didn't change soon.  Why the hell did he always end up on the 
bottom..... 
 
Scully's tongue was working the swollen head of his cock, her teeth 
gently grazing it at random times, making him jerk away, back into 
the monster cock up his ass.  She kept taking him all in, kept 
withdrawing, godgodgod, who knew Scully could give head like that?  
Who would have guessed?  
 
Certainly not him.  
 
He'd have let her call him Fox during the Tooms case if he'd known 
this....Chester backthrust, leaving him empty and whimpering into 
Scully's wet folds.   
 
God, it hurt so good, how could it hurt and still feel so incredible?  
Was he crazy?  Had the virus mutated and taken over his brain?  
God, it was the only explanation, the only rational explanation, it was 
another fucking X File. 
  
Chester's cock filled him again, all the way--god, he could feel it in 
his throat, he could swear it... 
 
Oooh, but he was going to come again, for something like the tenth 
time today, and he couldn't imagine how....oh, god, he was going to, 
he was going to, hell, he was, he was coming and coming and 
coming--god, god, pumping into Scully's wet, hot mouth.   
 
Convulsive pleasure wracked him--god, Chester was *good* at this, 
better even than Skinner, and that had amazed him--convulsed him 
and released him to whimper into the inside of one of Scully's thighs, 
too drained even to scream.   
 
Oh, god, this wasn't happening, he was going to come again, he 
couldn't possibly, it was against the physical laws of nature, it was a 
fucking X file!  Arching into the two who pleasured him, he came 
again, an almost painfully ecstatic sensation that bled fire along each 
nerve, that tore sounds from him that were muffled by Scully's cunt 
and thighs.... 
 
Colors flared behind his eyelids, his body trembled, god, he was 
dying, dying from pleasure, like the damned rats in the labs.  He 
could feel Scully's mouth pull away from him, felt her orgasm in the 
way her muscles went taut.....And world just sort of went away, 
melted into the bursts of color and ecstasy..... 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 9/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Leaning up, Scully kissed Chesterton deeply.  His tongue plunged 
into her mouth and tasted Mulder, his free hand cupped her ass, 
reaching back to feel the wetness between her legs.  Pulling back, he 
gave her a sultry look and tipped her off to the side.  "I wanna kiss 
Spooks," he growled and leaned forward, shoving Mulder's legs 
forward against his chest. 
 
She yelped as she fell back.  "Oooh, I feel good."  They both looked 
at her, a little dazed.  "Just like I know that I should, now."   
 
Oh, God, she could see Chesterton's cock moving in and out of 
Mulder, oh, oh, maybe she didn't feel nearly as good as she 
should..... 
 
"Uuh," Mulder whimpered as Chester compressed him.  "Ooh, my 
balls." 
 
"Oh, yeah, your balls," Chester agreed and bent his head to suck on 
one of Mulder's nipples. 
 
Mulder's body convulsed again in orgasm.   
 
Scully's eyes widened.  She was morally certain he'd come twice 
already, but three times?  This was amazing.  She nearly came 
herself, just watching it.  "Ride him, cowboy," she exhorted Chester, 
"Fuck him hard, he needs it, you know he does!" 
 
Chester obliged, shifting Mulder's legs to close around his ass.  "Ooh, 
baby, you're soooo sweet," he crooned, looking down at her partner, 
his hips rising and falling in the most amazing rhythm.   
 
She sighed, shivered.  Wow.  Two hot men having sex....the Pope 
was crazy, that was all there was to it, it wasn't intrinsically evil, it was 
intrinsically hot.... 
 
Mulder caught his breath on something perilously close to a sob.  "I 
wanted to be on top, Chester," he whimpered piteously. 
 
"Next time," Chester growled again and sucked at Mulder's lower lip.  
A few more strokes, a few more nibbles on Mulder's lovely, lovely 
nipples, and Mulder's body arched again, his eyes rolling back slightly 
as he cried out. 
 
Scully's eyes got wider.  That was four.  At least.  Jesus Christ, 
Mulder had always managed to surprise her, but this--this was 
beyond amazing. 
 
It was just plain hot.  God, it was so hot, she found she'd lowered her 
hand to her lap and was stroking orgasm sensitive flesh again.  And 
liking it.  Leaning back against the headboard, she let her legs fall 
apart, tilted her head back.  "You look so good on the bottom," she 
purred, "Ooooh, Mulder, you do, it's so natural for you." 
 
He couldn't answer back, at least; Chester had his mouth fully 
occupied with kissing, Chester's nicely muscled ass moved up and 
down as he plumbed Mulder's inner depths with incredible passion.  
"Oh, baby, that's so good," Chester murmured, finally coming up.   
 
Mulder gasped for air, clenched his jaw and screamed through his 
teeth, his body jerking under Chester's.  Oh, God, that had to be 
five.... 
 
Shifting on the bed, she reached between them, she had to hold 
Mulder's cock, she had to see if he really was coming again and 
again and again--his cock jumped against her palm, and fluid pulsed 
from the tip.   
 
Oooh, wow, he was coming again and again, he really was.  This was 
incredible, this was history making, she had to write a paper on it, 
Incredible Alien Virus Leads to Male Multiple Orgasm.... 
 
She had a feeling that Verlaine Perfumes stock was about to soar. 
 
"Oooh, baby," Chester groaned, throwing his head back, leaning up 
on his hands as he slammed himself into Mulder again and again.  
"Ooooh, baby, I'm gonna come in you, Spooks, you're makin' me 
come!" 
 
As if this was a cue, Mulder tilted his head back far enough she could 
see the underside of his chin, and screamed, hands clenched so 
tightly in the bedspread that he was white knuckled, screamed long 
and loudly enough that somebody in the upstairs apartment thumped 
on the floor irritably. 
 
"Get a life," Scully told the ceiling and felt Mulder pulse again in her 
hand.   
 
Chester thrust hard, groaned--"Godgodgodgodgod" and came, 
collapsing on Mulder, who lay completely limp underneath him.  "God, 
Spooks, that was incredible."  Then, sounding alarmed.  "Jesus, 
Spooks--Dana, I killed him!" 
 
"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, letting go of Mulder's slippery, 
softening cock and scrambling to kneel near Mulder's head.  Although 
he was probably going to *wish* he was dead when he tried to sit 
down tomorrow.... 
 
He was lying awfully still, though.  "Mulder?"  Bending over her 
partner, Scully felt worry gnaw at her.   
 
He lifted his eyelids slightly, peered at her and whimpered, letting 
them fall shut again.  "I was 'sposed to be on top." 
 
Lying next to Mulder, Chester grinned.  "I think we wore him out, 
Dana." 
 
"Mm."  She checked Mulder's pulse; still rapid, but that was pretty 
normal.  Wow, she could hardly believe what had just happened.  
Mulder had just proved her human sexuality professor was dead 
wrong--men were capable of multiple orgasms.   
 
Too bad it made them pass out. 
 
Chesterton was patting Mulder's cheek.  "Hey, Spooks, I don't think 
you're supposed to go to sleep with a head injury." 
 
"No, it's okay, we'll just keep an eye on him." 
 
Chesterton gave her another grin.  "Oh, yeah." 
 
Tilting her head back, she laughed softly.  "He needs to eat 
something, though.  And so do we.  Come on, let's see if he brought 
anything edible home." 
 
Chesterton chuckled.  "All this and she can cook, too?  Hey, so can I, 
Spooks actually taught me." 
 
Getting off the bed, she slanted her comatose partner an amused 
look.  "No kidding?  I didn't think he knew how." 
 
"Oh, yeah."  With a last pat of Mulder's cheek, Chesterton got up and 
carefully pulled the bedspread over him.  "He looks pretty done in." 
 
"Oh, for the moment," she told Chesterton, biting back a grin.  "He 
seems to recover pretty quickly.  Especially if he's fed.  Come on." 
 
And still wearing only Mulder's t-shirt, she led the way back to the 
kitchen. 
 
 
Mulder woke to the savory smell of food.  Real food.  Not takeout.  
Not delivery.  Something cooked.   
 
Too bad he was too weak to get up and find it. 
 
Curled on his side, he blearily considered the light that stretched 
down the hall and wondered what smelled so good.  As if summoned, 
Chester ambled into the light and leaned against the door.  "Hey, you 
awake, Spooks?" 
 
"Uh-hmm."  He blinked as Chesterton disappeared.  Scully somehow 
magically took his place--nah, he must have drifted off again--and 
she was--oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Scully--carrying a 
plate. 
 
"You doin' okay, Mulder?" she asked softly, sitting down beside him.  
"How's your head?" 
 
"Hurts a little."  The plate was very near his face.  He sniffed, 
interested in spite of exhaustion.  "What's that?" 
 
"Nothing too fancy, just chicken and rice pilaf and salad."  She 
touched his cheek gently.  "Can you sit up a little, partner?  Tom's 
getting you something to drink." 
 
Oh, if he had to--his mouth was watering, he wondered briefly if she'd 
get mad at him if he ate it with his fingers.  Moving slowly, he sat 
back up against the pillows and moaned as he put weight on his poor 
abused posterior.  When she turned the lamp on, he had to close his 
eyes for a moment against the glare. 
 
Her expression was concerned.  "Mulder?" 
 
"Scully, my ass hurts." 
 
She giggled.  Scowling, he accepted the plate, complete with fork, 
and dug in.   
 
Oh, the chicken was soooo good, at this point better than sex.  At 
this point.  He had no hope this point would last for very long....he 
might be able to get another hour of rest if he played his cards right. 
 
"I like your buddy," Scully told him, her tone faintly apologetic.  "He 
was really worried about you, Mulder." 
 
He took another bite.  "Scully, I think this thing is escalating."  Now 
how the hell was he supposed to say this?  "Um, I think I, uh, came 
more than once just then."   
 
Whenever then was.  Peering at the clock, he found he'd slept about 
two hours. 
 
"No kidding, Mulder, I think you made history."  Leaning forward, she 
kissed the tip of his nose.  "You scared us for a minute." 
 
He couldn't help it, he relaxed into that affection.  "I can't believe you 
did that, Scully--you're starting to scare me with this talent you have 
for a good scam."  Leaning forward, he kissed her mouth.  "But that 
was--"  Words failed him.  "Incredible."  Nah, too tame.  "Cosmic."  
Better, but still not quite right.  "Unbelievable."  Yeah, that worked.  
Fucking unbelievable.  Unbelievable fucking. 
 
She giggled again.  "Thought you might enjoy it.  Now we just have to 
get him to let *you* on top." 
 
The idea made him want to groan and Sparky tingled, too done in to 
even twitch.  But the thought that had tickled his mind earlier came 
back now, making him stiffen.  "Scully, this virus--if it is a virus, can it 
be transmitted?" 
 
"The kind of virus used for gene therapy isn't...."  But her voice 
trailed off; her expression was suddenly appalled.  "God, I should 
have thought of that."  She gave him a swift, horrified look.  "God, 
Mulder, this *is* dangerous, I haven't been thinking at all!  Except 
about sex!" 
 
Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, bloody, fucking hell, just when she'd converted 
him to hedonism, she was going to go Catholic on him again.  "Lots 
of sex," he sighed and took another bite, savoring the rice.  
 
"Lots and lots of sex," she agreed, her expression easing.  "I need to 
call Pendrell." 
 
"Just don't ask him over."  Mulder sighed and took another bite.  "At 
least, not until I've had more sleep." 
 
Her mouth curved faintly.   
 
Chesterton came in, carrying a glass of iced tea.  Mulder's mouth 
almost fell open; he slanted Scully a wicked grin and accepted the 
glass.  "Gee, Chester, must be fate or something." 
 
Scully pinched his thigh, not gently.  Yelping, he slid over to make 
room for Chesterton, who sat down beside him, eyeing him.  "You 
okay, Spooks?" 
 
He nodded.  "Tired and starving."  And sore, but what the hell--he 
smirked.  "You two been keeping busy while I slept?" 
 
Chester flushed slightly, giving Scully a sidelong look.  "Cooked 
dinner, didn't we?" 
 
"Mm."  Mulder grinned around another mouthful of chicken.  "Uh-
hmm." 
 
"We did it on your kitchen table, Mulder," Scully told him, rolling her 
eyes.  "And on your couch--Mulder, not even I have enough self-
possession to cook and fuck at the same time." 
 
Chesterton began to laugh.  "And face it, Spooks, I'm a few years 
older than you, it takes a little while to recharge the ole battery." 
 
Which he supposed was good, it meant Chesterton was normal.  
"Scully, you need to call Pendrell." 
 
"Yup."  Rising, she gave him a pat on the knee.  "There's plenty 
more, Mulder.  You missed lunch again today and you've been 
burning a lot of calories." 
 
He nodded agreement wholeheartedly.  "I think I'm gonna want a 
whole lot more, Scully.  I burned even more than you think today."  
Let's see, conservative count, since 2:00 am this morning, one, two--
god, could he possibly have come fifteen or sixteen times?  His mind 
reeled briefly.... 
 
Scully padded back out to the livingroom, to make her call in private; 
Chesterton was watching him, his expression sober.  "You really doin' 
okay, Spooks?" 
 
He nodded.  "Yeah, I told you, just tired." 
 
Leaning forward, Chesterton kissed his mouth--while he was between 
bites--"Good."  A satisfied tone.  "No freakin' out, Spooks.  We've 
been friends too long for that." 
 
If Chester knew the whole story, he suspected *Chester* might be 
freaking out.  On the other hand, until they knew more--he counted 
Chester among his friends, but Scully was the only person he dared 
to trust.    
 
Fucking was one thing; international government conspiracies and 
crazed biochemists were entirely another.  
 
 
Scully returned to the bedroom, her expression thoughtful.  "I couldn't 
reach Pendrell, but I left a message on his voice mail.  And I did get 
hold of someone at the Georgetown Microbiology lab--I'm going to go 
over there and talk to them about what the sample Pendrell sent 
them."  Gazing regretfully at the two of them--ooh, two hot men, 
together, she reached for her own clothes and began to dress. 
 
She rather thought Mulder's eyes glazed over in panic at the thought 
of her leaving him alone with Chesterton.  Shoveling the last of his 
chicken in, he all but leapt off the bed and reached for his jeans.  "I'd 
better make sure nothing's happened to Pendrell," he told the room at 
large.  "He's too important to this case." 
 
Scully arched a red-gold brow, letting him know she saw right through 
him, but nodded.  Hey, that's what partners were for, to cover your 
back--or backside, in this case....."Good idea, Mulder."  Another 
regretful look for Chesterton.  "Just make yourself at home, Tom, 
we'll be back later." 
 
He grinned.  "I hope so.  Otherwise I'm gonna wonder if you're gonna 
respect me in the morning." 
 
"I don't respect you now," Mulder told him and rummaged for socks 
in his top drawer.   
 
Rolling her eyes, Scully pulled on one stocking, mildly amused that 
they both stopped what they were doing and watched her fasten it to 
the garter.  Say what you might about garter belts, they did the trick 
everytime..... 
 
Mulder made a whimpering sound and turned back to his socks, 
fumbling them on with almost discourteous haste.  Trainers followed 
socks, he yanked a sweater off the foot of the bed and walked rapidly 
down the hall, pulling it on as he went. 
 
She could swear, Chesterton's neck grew one shirt size while he 
watched her.  Oooh, it was fun, being a woman. 


***********************
Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 10/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Thankfully, most of the diehard workaholics had gone home.  Mulder 
was able to sneak from the garage to the building without notice, 
although there was a near miss with a secretary working late in the 
labs. 
 
Tiptoeing down the hallway toward Mulder's office, he became aware 
that her head had come up and she was regarding him with large, 
doe-like eyes.  "Agent Mulder," she called, standing up and leaning 
over the desk to better display her assets, "Agent Mulder, I need 
some help." 
 
"With what?" he asked cautiously, edging to the far side of the wall. 
 
She pouted prettily at him; two days ago, he would have jumped at 
the chance to, um, help her--or helped at the chance to jump her, 
but not tonight.  No way, no how, no time.  "I need someone to 
proofread my report." 
 
"Can't help you," he told her briskly, "Big case, gotta see Pendrell, he 
still working?" 
 
More pouting, wet and luscious lips beckoning to him.  "But Agent 
Mulder, I need help more than he does." 
 
Don't go there, he told himself, when Sparky actually, incredibly, 
showed signs of responding to this.  Or to her pheromones.   
 
Or the assets so generously displayed.  Or whatever.  "Sorry--"  
What the hell was her name again?  Oh, yeah, Sheryl, her name was 
Sheryl...."Sorry, Sheryl, maybe next time." 
 
Still pouting, she sank back in her chair, looking crushed.  No time to 
feel guilty, he told himself sternly and abandoned subterfuge, fleeing 
down the hall to the lab as if Cancerman were still looking for a good 
blow job.... 
 
Bent over a microscope, Pendrell looked up at him, startled, when he 
burst through the door and locked it.  "Agent Mulder!  Are you all 
right?" 
 
He panted.  God, sex was going to kill him, he hadn't been this 
winded since, since....well, whenever he'd last been this winded.  
"Fine, Pendrell.  What have you got on that virus from the sample.  
Any way of combatting it?  Vaccinating against it?"  He arched his 
eyebrows hopefully.  "A cure?" 
 
Pendrell gave him a puzzled look.  "Well, I was trying to reach Agent 
Scully--it doesn't seem exceptionally dangerous, Agent Mulder, do we 
need to alert the CDC?" 
 
Hysteria threatened.  Hello, CDC, this is the FBI, I want to report a 
new plague of fucking....."No, that's not necessary." 
 
Pendrell's eyes were wide.  "Should we contact the Army?" 
 
Mulder's mind reeled at the thought of all those sexually frustrated 
soldiers--"No," he barked, panicked at the images that flooded his 
mind.  "Not necessary, not necessary at all.  What have you found 
out, Pendrell?" 
 
"Well, Agent Scully would be able to follow this better, but come and 
look at this."  Pendrell gestured to him.   
 
Narrowing his eyes, Mulder studied him, but it appeared to be safe, 
Pendrell's ingenuous gaze was the same as always.  Standing beside 
the younger man, he peered into the microscope.  "What am I 
supposed to be seeing?" 
 
"Sections of the virus.  The DNA sequences are really weird, Agent 
Mulder.  If I didn't know better, I'd say they were not found in nature." 
 
Mulder peered at the blurry image.  Shit, he'd left his glasses at 
home.  "But you know better?" 
 
"Well, everything has to be found in nature."  Pendrell went peculiarly 
silent. 
 
Raising his head, Mulder was appalled to find Pendrell leaning close, 
his nostrils flared.    
 
Pendrell smiled dreamily.  "You smell really good, Agent Mulder." 
 
Oh, shit, oh, shit....."Pendrell."  He swallowed hard.  "What about the 
virus?" 
 
One of Pendrell's hands came up and traced his lower lip--oh, hell, he 
had to get out of here.  "Agent Mulder."  Pendrell's voice was soft, 
almost dazed.  "Lie down across the table, please." 
 
No way, no how, no time....he took one step backward, and another.  
Pendrell moved toward him, those eyes fixed on his mouth.  
Panicking again, he bolted and was brought down in a flying tackle.  
By Pendrell.   
 
That was how low he'd fallen, that Pendrell could bring him down. 
 
Rolling, he tucked and managed to break away, but Pendrell was 
between him and the door, a glazed look in his eyes.  "Agent Mulder, 
I just want to hold you!" 
 
Mulder dodged in the nick of time, just as those outstretched hands 
reached for his sweater, backed around the other lab table.  
"Pendrell, Pendrell, I understand, but I don't have time for this, I need 
to find out about that virus!" 
 
Pendrell gave him a soulful look, licked his lips.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, I 
never realized just how handsome you were."  He approached again 
and Mulder kept moving, keeping the table between himself and 
Pendrell.  "The virus will still be there, Agent Mulder." 
 
Mulder kept backing, suddenly feeling foolish.  Oh, honestly, this was 
ridiculous, Pendrell was a techno-dweeb, he could deal with him--
taking a stand, he put on a stern expression.  "Pendrell, I don't want 
to have to hurt you." 
 
Pendrell gave him a bashful smile, a sidelong glance.  "Um, Agent 
Mulder, I really don't think you could.  You're a psychologist, they 
always do yoga or t'ai chi, and I took--"  He moved forward into a 
ridiculous stance.  "Jiujitsu.  Brown belt, actually."  He blushed, licked 
his lips again.  "Now, Agent Mulder, I just want to give you a little kiss, 
there's no need to be afraid of me." 
 
Afraid of Pendrell, Mulder thought incredulously and swung as 
Pendrell advanced toward him.   
 
Whoops, Pendrell hadn't been kidding, he flew over Pendrell's 
shoulder, was caught and held there, and set gently on the floor.  
Pendrell's face hung upside down before him.  "Agent Mulder, did 
anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you struggle?" 
 
Oh, shit.  Looking back--nope, he couldn't go backward, Pendrell's 
legs were behind him--he had to go the other way--sliding forward 
frantically, Mulder rolled up on the balls of his feet, leaning forward, 
and promptly fell back again as Pendrell snatched the collar of his 
sweater.   
 
"Pendrell," he choked, "That hurts." 
 
"I'm sorry," Pendrell mourned and bent over him, warm puppy tongue 
sliding underneath the collar...oh, god, Pendrell was licking him. 
 
He pushed off hard on his feet, sliding backwards across the tile, but 
Pendrell caught him by the ankles, straddling him.  "Agent Mulder, I 
really don't want to hurt you, I want to love you."  He bent and sucked 
on Mulder's lower lip, running his tongue along Mulder's clenched 
teeth.   
 
Sparky, that turncoat, that fiend, that completely debauched roue, 
twitched hopefully.   
 
God, he was becoming conditioned, everytime anyone sucked on his 
lower lip, he was going to get hard--no, that always happened 
anyway, no news there, never mind.... 
 
"Pendrell," he pleaded, a little breathless by this time, "Puh-lease 
don't do this, you really don't wanna do this." 
 
"Yes, I do."   Pendrell put his face against Mulder's, rubbing his beard 
against Mulder's stubble.  "I was thinking about Agent Scully," he 
purred ecstatically, "But you're the next best thing.  Ooh,  Agent 
Mulder, those big hazel eyes drive me crazy--did you know that 
sometimes your eyes are green, sometimes they're brown?" 
 
Mulder swallowed hard.  "Pendrell, I'm gonna throw up if you don't 
stop, did you use these lines on Scully?" 
 
"I didn't have to."  Pendrell beamed.  "Agent Scully, she's a real take 
charge kind of person.  But you're shy, I can understand that, I'm 
kinda shy myself, Agent Mulder.  But you don't have to be shy with 
me."  He took Mulder's hand in a come-along grip, beloved by law 
professionals everywhere.  "Honestly, I only want to love you--you 
have the cutest little bottom, Agent Mulder, I never realized how cute 
a man's bottom could be until I saw yours." 
 
Mulder came up with him perforce, wincing as Pendrell's expert 
handling pinched a nerve or two.  He should have paid more attention 
during his Quantico training, he should have taken something more 
strenuous than yoga, he should have drawn his gun before ever 
coming in here...."Uh, Pendrell."  he took in a deep breath, forcing 
himself to sound calm.  "Now Pendrell, I know you're having strange 
feelings right now, feelings you might not--"   
 
He considered Pendrell thoughtfully for a moment and amended his 
statement.  "Or that you might have had before, but you don't have to 
act on them."   
 
Pendrell didn't seem to be paying attention, Pendrell's hands stroked 
up under his sweater, pinched his chest about a half inch below his 
nipples.  "Ow!  Pendrell, if you're trying to pinch my nipples, your aim 
is a little off." 
 
"Ooh, sorry."  Adjusting, Pendrell hit the target, making Mulder 
clench his teeth.   
 
Shit, that almost felt good, god, he was depraved, this was Pendrell! 
 
Pendrell sniffed him again.  "You smell sooo good, Agent Mulder.  
Oooh, I never realized just how good."  He gave Mulder a swooning 
look and did something moderately painful that Mulder couldn't quite 
follow, and which put Mulder face down across the lab table--there 
was a snick and cold metal closed around Mulder's wrists.  "I really 
don't want to have to hurt you, Agent Mulder, I just want to love you 
like you need to be loved.  I can see it in your eyes, all that 
loneliness.  I'm lonely, too, sometimes, Agent Mulder, I know how it 
is." 
 
Hell, hell, hell, hell.....He twisted his head around in sudden panic.  
"Pendrell, what are you doing?"  Pendrell's arms went around his 
waist; Pendrell's head rested on his back. 
 
"Just holding you," Pendrell sighed gustily.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, it 
feels so good--you feel so good, and you smell good enough to eat." 
 
Relief made his knees weak.  Thank god, the puppy didn't know what 
to do.  "That's nice, Pendrell."  He tried to keep his voice gentle.  "I'm 
glad you like me."  He just wished Pendrell didn't like him quite so 
well. 
 
Pendrell's face pressed against his sweater.  "Oh, I do, Agent 
Mulder," he murmured, "I more than like you.  Those big lonely eyes, 
that beautiful mouth--has anyone ever told you that you have a 
beautiful mouth?  A beautiful, sexy mouth?" 
 
"Not recently," Mulder admitted.  "Pendrell, this isn't very 
comfortable--look, if you want to love me, shouldn't you take the cuffs 
off?  Pendrell?  Pendrell?  Pendrell, what are you doing?"  His voice 
was panicky again as he felt Pendrell's fingers snake down his belly.   
 
"I want to see if you have those cute little dimples on your butt," 
Pendrell sighed happily, reaching for the buttons on Mulder's jeans.  
"I'll just bet you do, Agent Mulder." 
 
In fact, he did.  He wasn't at all sure that everyone didn't have them.  
"Pendrell," he began, but gasped when Pendrell yanked his jeans 
down to his ankles.  "Don't *do* that, Pendrell, please."  He was 
perilously close to whimpering again.  And Sparky preened himself, 
glad of the relative freedom of his shorts. 
 
Pendrell was nuzzling the small of his back, wet nose or tongue 
rubbing against his skin.  Eeew.  "Oooh, you wear boxers, Agent 
Mulder.  Very nice, I always think boxers are a lot sexier than briefs."  
The boxers came down, all the way and Sparky stretched out a little. 
"I knew it--oh, Agent Mulder, those dimples are just soooo--"  A warm 
tongue touched both of them, in turn. 
 
Mulder shivered, aroused in spite of himself.  Down, Sparky, he told 
his cock desperately, you don't want to fuck Pendrell--or worse yet, 
have Pendrell fuck me!   
 
Sparky, as usual, didn't listen.   
 
Oh, great, now Pendrell was fondling his buttocks.  "Oh, your butt is 
just so cute, Agent Mulder," he crooned, making Mulder's teeth 
clench again. 
 
"So is yours, Pendrell," he grated, feeling that some return was called 
for.  God, he'd lost his mind, he'd just complimented Pendrell's butt. 
 
Pendrell's hands shaped and smoothed his ass.  "And your skin is 
soooo soft, Agent Mulder," he murmured, breathing a little harder.  
"Oh, my, look at this." 
 
Mulder craned his neck around.  "Look at what?  Ow, ow, 
goddammit, Pendrell, what are you trying to do?"   
 
Pendrell looked up at him, suddenly crestfallen.  "Playing with your, 
um, thing." 
 
My thing?  My thing?  He rolled his eyes.  "Pendrell, are you a 
virgin?" 
 
Another bashful smile.  "Well, I was, sir, but Agent Scully took care of 
that for me." 
 
Mulder rested his forehead on the table for a moment before looking 
back.  "It's not a thing, Pendrell, it's a cock or dick.  And those 
things--ow, dammit--that you're tugging on are called balls.  Don't 
you ever jack off, you don't handle them like marbles, for god's sake." 
 
Pendrell was blushing.  "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, I've never touched 
anyone's, um, balls before." 
 
Including his own, no doubt.  "Did you ever jack off?"  Mulder's voice 
was dangerously calm.  "You know, play with yourself?" 
 
Pendrell blushed again.  Anymore, and he'd look like he had sunburn.  
"Um, I'm Catholic, sir, we're not supposed to." 
 
A brilliant idea came to him.  "Pendrell, if you're Catholic, you aren't 
supposed to be doing this, either." 
 
That caused a moment of concern.  Pendrell frowned faintly.  "Agent 
Scully is Catholic," he finally returned, "And if it's good enough for 
Agent Scully, it's good enough for me."  He beamed at Mulder and 
returned to what he was doing, albeit more gently. 
 
Mulder put his forehead on the table again.  Oh, god, it was starting 
to feel good.  He felt like he was corrupting a choir boy.  A child.  A 
puppy.  "Pendrell," he muttered and raised his head again, abruptly 
inspired.  "You really don't want to do this.  I, uh, I have herpes." 
 
Another pause, Pendrell's hand still cupping his balls.  "Um.  You 
have condoms, don't you, sir?  Down in your office?  Or do you keep 
them in your wallet?" 
 
Mulder swallowed.  How the hell did the little twerp know that?  Was 
he going through Mulder's desk?  "Pendrell, I have the kind of herpes 
that goes through latex."  
 
Pendrell's face fell again.  "There's no such thing."  And he managed 
to look so woebegone that Mulder felt guilty all over again.  "You just 
don't like me." 
 
"No, that's not true, Pendrell."  Mulder swallowed hard, looking at 
Pendrell's sorrowful expression.  "I like you, Pendrell, I just don't want 
to have sex with you."   
 
Oh, god, Pendrell was getting ready to cry, it was like kicking a 
puppy, what kind of man was he, what kind of asshole was he that 
he'd have sex with total strangers in an elevator, but wouldn't show a 
kid a good time?  "Pendrell, don't, please, it's just that--"   
 
Pendrell's lower lip trembled.  His eyes were shiny, brimming with 
tears.   
 
Oh, shit, shit, shit.  "Pendrell, please--"  Pendrell turned away, his 
shoulders slumped.  "Aw, Pendrell, don't do that, please, I do like you, 
honestly, I do." 
 
The shoulders trembled.   "No, it's all right, I understand." 
 
He craned his head around as far as he could, biting his lip at the 
sound of a muffled sob.  "Aw, Pendrell, don't do that.  Come on, turn 
around, don't cry." 
 
"I just wanted to love you."  Pendrell took in a hitching breath, 
hiccoughed miserably. 
 
Mulder squirmed.  Oh, right, Mr. I Fucked Everyone In the Elevator, 
break the kid's heart, it's not like he has a lot of friends in the 
Bureau....."And I appreciate that, Pendrell, honestly I do.  But I don't 
have time right now." 
 
"I just wanted to hold you close," Pendrell sobbed, raising a hand to 
his face--presumably to wipe his eyes.  "You're so beautiful, Agent 
Mulder."  He cast a brief, miserable look over his shoulder.  "And you 
have such a beautiful, magnificent tushie." 
 
Tushie?  Mulder closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the table 
again, demoralized.   
 
Oh, he was going to hate himself in the morning if he did this, but he 
was going to hate himself anyway....."Okay, Pendrell, if that's what it 
takes to prove I like you, go and get the lube and condoms from my 
desk."  He couldn't believe he said it, couldn't believe he was going to 
do it. 
 
"Really?  You mean it?"  Pendrell's tone was dazzled, joyful.  A little 
suspicious, Mulder looked over his shoulder again.  Well, his eyes 
were red......"Oh, Agent Mulder, you won't be sorry, sir."  Darting 
forward, Pendrell kissed Mulder's left buttock and ran for the door.  
"I'll be right back, Agent Mulder, don't go anywhere."   
 
Go anywhere?  How was he supposed to go anywhere with his pants 
down?   
 
Oh, before Veblein's virus, he wouldn't have let it stand in his way, but 
now he'd just be jumping from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.  
Any potential rescuer would only want to fuck him.  "And don't forget 
the lube," he called after Pendrell, and winced, remembering the 
secretary.  Shit, shit, shit....but nobody, nobody was fucking him 
without lube.  Especially after the day he'd had. 
 
He wondered if he could scrunch up enough to get his linked hands 
over his ass.  He wondered if it would do him any good?  Oh, he had 
to take yoga, he had to scoff at anyone taking karate in any shape or 
form, and people said he was a genius.... 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 11/? 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
By the time Pendrell returned to the lab, he was missing a certain 
amount of skin on his ass, his shoulders hurt, but his hands were in 
front of him.  Swollen, sore, but in front of him.  And his shorts were 
back up--the jeans were harder to manage.... 
 
Pendrell's face fell.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, I told you to stay where you 
were.  Oh, well, I'll take care of that." 
 
Mulder backed up against the table, but Pendrell only leaned up on 
his toes to suck on his lower lip again.  Sparky, who had flagged 
slightly, perked up again.  He was going to have to seriously consider 
castration if he didn't get some rest soon.....he wondered how much 
energy he was using with each orgasm and realized he was hungry 
again.  Maybe he should just suck Pendrell off, he could use the 
protein..... 
 
Turning him to face the table again, Pendrell looped his linked wrists 
over a table fixture.  He hoped to god it wasn't going to spout flames 
or something toxic. 
 
"Oh, Agent Mulder," Pendrell's breath was warm on the back of his 
neck, he reached around and managed to grab Sparky 
enthusiastically. 
 
Mulder winced.  "Carefully, Pendrell, carefully." 
 
"Ooh, I will be," Pendrell pressed himself against the back of Mulder's 
leg.   
 
God, he'd forgotten, Scully had said that Pendrell was hung nearly as 
well as Skinner.  Oh, shit, he'd forgotten, he'd forgotten, how the hell 
was he going to go through with this after what Chester had done, 
after what--let's see, how many were there?--eight men in the 
elevator had done, after what Skinner had done yesterday.... 
 
Oh, god, Pendrell had managed to find his nipples without help this 
time, he was gently pinching them and, oh, shit, it felt good, too 
good, he was never going to live this one down..... 
 
Pendrell's fingers tugged his balls roughly again, making him yelp.  
"Goddammit, don't you know how to do this? " 
 
"Sorry, sorry," Pendrell's breathing was a little ragged and his fingers 
moved more gently, rolling Mulder's balls inside the sac of warm skin.  
"Ooh, that's so nice, Agent Mulder, you're getting all hard." 
 
Well, that much was true.  Sparky was a bigger tramp than he was.  
His worst fear would have been to find out that Sparky would respond 
to anyone--at least his confrontation with Cancerman had relieved 
him of that.  But Pendrell?   
 
He was never going to tell Scully about this, never.... 
 
Leaning over the table, his hands cuffed together, hooked to a lab 
fixture he didn't recognize, Mulder continued to search for options.   
"Wouldn't you like to experience the thrill of having a hard cock up 
your ass?  I mean, fucking one hole isn't all that different from 
fucking another--this could really be a novel experience for you."  He 
didn't hold out much hope for this approach, either, but it was worth 
a try.   
 
Pendrell humped his leg, breathing harder.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, we 
can do that next time."   
 
Next time?  Mulder shuddered. 
 
Pendrell pushed his sweater up, licked down his spine to the dimples 
that entranced him, spending a good deal of sloppy time on them.  
God, he was drooling, he had to be--and he had a tongue like a dog 
Mulder had once known.... 
 
And that fucking traitor Sparky just kept twitching anxiously, waiting 
for some attention. 
 
Pendrell's breath was hot on his ass; he snatched the bottle of lube 
off the table and Mulder craned his neck again, trying to determine 
his immediate danger.  "Pendrell, you have to do this gradually, I'm, 
um, I'm a little sore, AD Skinner, ah, initiated me yesterday."   
 
Not to mention the guys in the elevator today, Chester tonight.....but 
he didn't want to say that, he didn't want Pendrell to think he was 
cheap or easy.... 
 
The sweet bashfulness had vanished from Pendrell's eyes.  In fact, 
there was a slightly manic glaze there now that made Mulder entirely 
nervous.   "If it's good enough for AD Skinner, it's good enough for 
me," he told Mulder huskily and stabbed roughly between Mulder's 
buttocks with a slippery finger.  "Agent Mulder, how do you feel about 
spanking?" 
 
No.  Please, no.  Not spanking.  Please, he'd even believe in god if 
this didn't happen.  "I hate spanking, Pendrell." 
 
A cool hand massaged one of his buttocks.  "I d-don't," Pendrell 
breathed and--whack!--cracked one hand across the flesh he'd 
massaged.  "Oooh, I branded you, everyone will know you're mine, 
Agent Mulder." 
 
His?   
 
Outraged, Mulder craned his neck to see a red palm print on his ass.  
"Pendrell, dammit, if you like spanking so much, unlock these 
handcuffs and I'll spank *you*!" 
 
Pendrell gave him a look again, one that suggested a slightly 
inexperienced satyr.   
 
On the other hand, everything he'd ever read about satyrs suggested 
they liked it a little rough.  Oh, god, please don't let this happen, bad 
enough he was corrupting a puppy, please don't let the puppy 
change into Godzilla.   
 
God, if there was a god, hated him.  Scully had actually had a good 
time with Pendrell--although he was starting to think that Scully could 
have a good time leaning against the washing machine in her 
building--there had to be something this guy could do.   
 
It was time for him to take charge.  "Okay, Pendrell, I've done this 
before and you haven't.  I want you to follow my instructions, okay?" 
 
Pendrell gaped at him, beamed and leaned forward to nibble on the 
nape of his neck.  "Ooh, Agent M-mulder, I didn't think I'd ever f-f-ind 
a mentor.  Let alone be lucky enough to have you." 
 
Asshole, Mulder thought and gritted his teeth.  He was going to 
mentor Pendrell's heels into the air on Skinner's conference table if 
he could possibly arrange it.  Skinner liked the little twerp, maybe 
he'd been watching Pendrell's ass, too.  "First things first--suck my 
balls." 
 
Pendrell blinked.  "Are you sure that's first?  Shouldn't you be 
sucking mine?" 
 
"Well, sure, that would work, where are the keys to these things?"  
Mulder narrowed his eyes, then sighed as it became apparent that 
Pendrell wasn't going to unlock him. 
 
"Okay," Pendrell agreed, but frowned.  "We should have a spreader 
bar, shouldn't we?  To keep your legs open?  I could use a broom 
handle." 
 
Mulder cringed.  "No, Pendrell, that wouldn't work.  They have to have 
straps to go around arms or legs."   
 
Now why, he wondered, did he even know that?  His life was weirder 
than he'd thought, even with the recent turn of events. 
 
"A butt plug would be nice," Pendrell mourned.  "How about an 
Ehrlenmeyer flask?" 
 
His sphincter slammed shut.  "No goddamn way--are you fucking 
crazy, Pendrell, that's glass!" 
 
Disappointed, Pendrell sulked for a moment.  "What about the broom 
handle." 
 
"I don't like splinters in my asshole." 
 
Another moment of thought and Pendrell brightened.  "I've got a 
banana in my lunch bag." 
 
"I'm allergic to bananas," Mulder told him, starting to panic again.  
"Pendrell, the only thing you need to put in my ass is your cock."  
God, and X had said that he and Scully talked a lot.  Obviously, he 
hadn't met Pendrell.  "Will you just for god's sake get to work if this is 
what you want to do?"  He couldn't believe the words had come from 
his mouth.  "Or just unlock these things and let me go." 
 
Pendrell's hand cupped one cheek familiarly.  "Ooh, I do want to," he 
muttered and jabbed that damned finger deeper-- 
 
"Shit, Pendrell!"  Mulder looked over his shoulder.  "Don't you ever 
trim your fucking nails?  That hurt!" 
 
Pendrell's puppy dog eyes were contrite.  "I'm s-s-sorry, Agent M-
Mulder, let me kiss it and make it better."   Pendrell vanished and a 
warm, wet tongue slid in between his buttocks. 
 
Oh, god, he was being rimmed by Super-Dweeb.   
 
This was too much--and the worst part was that Sparky was 
responding like nobody's business.  Nope, he was no way going to tell 
Scully this one, it was too embarrassing--oh, shit, oh, shit, Pendrell 
was actually doing well, that warm mouth moving farther forward to 
slurp on his balls.   
 
Okay, so what if the kid drooled a little, it actually felt good....he 
groaned a little, pushing himself as far as he could from the table, 
letting Pendrell come up between him and the table, taking Sparky 
into his mouth.  Oh, god, oh, god, that felt good--- 
 
"Pendrell," he gasped, "Watch the teeth, please, oh, god, Pendrell, 
oh, god...."  He was really going to hate himself in the morning, hell, 
he hated himself now, whimpering as Pendrell valiantly tried to take 
Sparky all the way in, then withdrew, making him shiver.  Oh, shit, 
the teeth, no, that was better, the kid was learning, the kid was doing 
all right....oh, back down to the balls, taking them in his mouth-- 
 
"Teeth, Pendrell!"  Oh, god, that hurt, no, that was much better, oh, 
god, the kid was a natural, maybe he just needed training, Scully 
said he was good, maybe there was hope from this yet....."Oh, god, 
Pendrell, that's good, oh, that's good, keep that--oh, god, Pendrell--"   
 
Back to the asshole, god--"Ouch, Pendrell, watch the hair, okay."  
His voice was strained.  Oh, okay, that was better, oooh, he was 
licking up the crease to the base of Mulder's spine--that finger 
probed again, he'd evidently bitten the nail off, it was okay, oh, shit, it 
was more than okay, there went another one, oh, shit, the kid was 
drooling on his back again, panting.  He was panting.  Oh, god, 
panting.  Like a damned dog.... 
 
Scrunching his eyes shut, Mulder resolutely avoided thinking of his 
dog, the long lamented Rags, and tried to focus only on the positive 
sensations.  "Watch it, Pendrell," he whimpered.  "More lube, please, 
lots more lube."  That latex covered *thing* pressing against his leg 
felt enormous.   
 
Hell, Pendrell's fingers felt enormous.  He was going to have to get 
one of those rubber donuts to sit on for the rest of his life..... 
 
That large something pushed hard against his asshole and he yelped.  
"Slowly, Pendrell, slowly, god, I'd rather not have to wear diapers the 
rest of my life, okay!" 
 
Pendrell was breathing too heavily to reply.  No, he was panting too 
hard to reply.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, I'm going to make love to you." 
 
"You're going to fuck me," Mulder corrected irritably, then gasped as 
a lot of that large something sank into him.  "Slowly, Pendrell, adagio-
-"  Wait, did that mean fast or slow,?--he always got confused.  
"Slowly." 
 
Reaching around, Pendrell grasped him firmly, finally at a proper 
angle.   Okay, this wasn't too bad, in fact, this was starting to work.   
Groaning, he pushed into Pendrell's fist, only to have Pendrell slam 
forward, making him yelp again.  "No, no, dammit, Pendrell, don't 
you have any sense of rhythm at all?" 
 
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder," Pendrell told him penitently, in between 
pants, "What do you want me to do?" 
 
He considered, resting his forehead on the table again.  "Okay, when 
I push back, you push forward--and when I push my hips forward, 
you pull back.  Got that?" 
 
"I think so."  Pendrell licked him again.  "Oh, I love you, Agent 
Mulder." 
 
"No you don't, you just love my ass."  Mulder pushed back, Pendrell 
arched forward--so far, so good, oooh, so good.  He moved his hips 
forward, pushing into Pendrell's fist and Pendrell came with him.  
"No, no, dammit, pull back." 
 
"I don't wanna," Pendrell whimpered, "It feels too good." 
 
Groaning, Mulder laid his forehead on the table again.  "Pendrell, you 
have to, you can't just stand there with your cock up my ass, you 
have to move it."   
 
He couldn't believe this was happening, he had to teach the kid to 
sodomize him.  Reality was seriously skewed these days.... 
 
"Okay," he sighed, "Let's try it again.  On one, you push your cock 
in, I push my ass back--on two, you pull your cock out, I push my 
hips forward, okay?  And don't let go of my cock, for god's sake, or 
I'll kill you when you take these cuffs off." 
 
"Okay," Pendrell whimpered and drooled more on his back.   
 
God, he hoped he still had that sweatshirt in his bottom desk drawer.  
The bottom edge of his sweater was getting soggy and he hated wet 
wool.   Taking a deep breath, he pushed his ass back.  "One."   
 
Pendrell arched forward satisfactorily, pushing hard against his 
prostate.  Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.  "Two," he managed to say and 
pushed his cock back into Pendrell's fist--good, the poor dumb kid 
kept it nice and snug, oh, god, nice and nice and nice and snug.... 
 
"One," he repeated breathlessly and pushed back as Pendrell surged 
forward.  "Two," he breathed and arched forward, oh, god, oh, god, 
maybe the kid was getting the hang of it, oh,yeah, he was getting the 
hang of it--no, goddammit, he was pushing forward again, and again, 
and again and again..... 
 
"Pendrell!" 
 
"Oops."  Pendrell's voice was very, very small and chagrined. 
 
Mulder felt his blood pressure rise.  "Oops?" he repeated, his left 
eyelid twitching--great, now he was developing a nervous tic....  
"Oops?  What the fuck does OOPS mean!?" 
 
Pendrell stood very still.  "Oops, I, um, came." 
 
After a hushed moment, Mulder banged his forehead on the table.  
"Goddammit, it's bad enough you handcuff me and practically force 
me to teach you how to rape me, now you leave me hanging on the 
edge?  Goddammit, Pendrell, you better get these cuffs off me, or 
I'm gonna....I'm gonna--"  What could he threaten him with?  "I'm 
gonna tell Scully what you did to me." 
 
With a squeak of fright, Pendrell pulled out of him.  "I'm sorry, Agent 
Mulder, I just--you're just so beautiful and tight, I just lost control." 
 
Mulder considered banging his forehead on the table again.  "Okay, 
you little--get these cuffs off me and get down on your knees, 
goddammit, I can't go out there like this." 
 
Sparky seemed to positively thrive on conflict.  He throbbed in time 
to the dangerous tempo of Mulder's pulse, bobbing merrily.   
 
Stammering apologies, Pendrell obeyed, unlocking the cuffs and 
running back around the table to fall worshipfully at Mulder's feet.  
Mulder sank down into the office chair, regretting it the moment he 
did; the seat was vinyl and his ass was wet from Pendrell's drool. 
 
"No teeth, Pendrell," he warned, putting his hand on his gun.  "Or I'll 
shoot you myself." 
 
"No teeth," Pendrell agreed, eyes shining.  "Agent Mulder, do you 
want to spank me?" 
 
It was tempting, god knew, but he shook his head.   
 
"Just suck me," he snapped and closed his eyes as Pendrell went to 
work with a will.  "Oh, yeah, that's it, that's the way--"  Maybe he'd 
been too hard on the kid, god, his mouth was so wet and hot and he 
was getting better, ooh, he was playing with Mulder's balls just the 
way Mulder had told him, slurping Mulder's cock as it went in and out 
of his mouth, oh, god, he was going to come after all, oh, yes, he 
was definitely going to come, right in Pendrell's talented little mouth--
-groaning loudly, he pumped hard, feeling the cum rise, pumping 
harder and harder as his groan rose in volume--oh, god, 
ogodogodogodogod, filling Pendrell's mouth..... 
 
Actually, more than filling Pendrell's mouth, cum actually squirted out 
his nose and he made a choking sound--dismayed, Mulder yanked 
himself back, thankful that Sparky was doing nothing more than 
dribbling at this point, heard a faint "Oh, my God," from the doorway 
and turned in time to see the shocked face of the cleaning woman 
before she fled down the hall. 
 
Pendrell choked and sputtered; alarmed, Mulder pounded him on the 
back until Pendrell held up his hands in surrender.  "'M okay," he 
gasped and gave Mulder another worshipful look.  "Honest." 
 
Shame, chagrin, frustration and sheer embarrassment made Mulder 
grit his teeth.  "Pendrell, I have to be honest with you.  I really do like 
you, but that was the worst sex I've ever had.  Even alone." 
 
Pendrell blushed.  "I just need practice, sir." 
 
An evil thought passed through Mulder's mind, seeking a place to 
roost.  "Practice with Agent Scully," he suggested.  "When you get 
really good at that, we'll talk again." 
 
Pendrell leapt up and kissed him, all wet puppy tongue.  Well, it could 
be worse, the cleaning woman could have been turned on by the 
sight and come in to join them.   
 
After tolerating Pendrell's attentions for a moment, Mulder pushed 
him away and patted him on the shoulder.  "I've got to get out to 
Verlaine's labs, Pendrell," he told him and painfully peeled himself off 
the vinyl chair--eeeew, that hurt and it felt icky.  Reaching down, he 
pulled his shorts and jeans up again.  "And Pendrell, stay away from 
handcuffs.  They aren't any fun." 
 
One corner of Pendrell's mouth curved slyly.  "I don't know, Agent 
Mulder, I had a lot of fun." 
 
Unable to think of a really killing reply to this--who are you going to 
please with that, Agent Pendrell?  Oh, myself, Agent Mulder--Mulder 
closed his mouth and fled before Pendrell tried to take his gun from 
him and do him again.... 
 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 12/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
The Georgetown Microbiology lab was devastated.  People lay about 
in various states of unconsciousness, naked as the day they were 
born and some of them still joined, hips moving sluggishly as they 
sought to reach fulfillment once more.   
 
Scully ducked back around a corner.  Sheesh, this stuff was more 
dangerous than she'd ever have guessed.  Maybe growing up 
Catholic somehow retarded the influence.  Peering around, Scully 
dismissed the idea of trying to help--no, none of the researchers was 
at all attractive by her standards, but then she was spoilt by Mulder, 
Skinner, and Chesterton--and carefully retraced her steps back out 
to the parking lot, starting at every shadow and sound. 
 
When she reached her car, she locked the door, just as a shadow 
arose from the back seat. 
 
"Agent Scully, now do you understand how dangerous this formula 
is?"  X's eyes were a little wild, his voice strained. 
 
"I'm starting to," she told him sincerely. 
 
"You and Agent Mulder have to get out to Verlaine and get Veblein's 
documentation," X insisted, climbing into the front seat. 
 
He really was a stunningly attractive man, Scully thought, her 
expression pensive.  "All right," she agreed, "I have to admit, you're 
right."  Then, without taking time for a breath--let alone what she 
really wanted to do, she drew her gun.  "Why did you try to kill my 
partner?" 
 
X looked at her, a little dismayed.  "Agent Scully, if I'd tried to kill 
him, he'd be dead."  He looked away, his expression sheepish.  "I, ah, 
lost my temper.  Agent Scully, Mulder is a slut." 
 
"Yeah, but he's my slut, you can't just go shooting at him like that."  
Scully narrowed her eyes briefly.  "You're just mad cuz he jumped 
your ass." 
 
X's lower lip came out.  "Well, yeah, I was.  You know how long I've 
been keeping an eye on that fine little butt of his?  I wanted to top 
him, and he took me by surprise." 
 
Oooh, the image of that was as hot as watching Chesterton fuck 
Mulder.  "You stick with me, pal," she told him, a hard boiled moll, 
"And you'll get your wish." 
 
He stared at her for a long time, his breathing slowly becoming 
uneven.  "Agent Scully, has anyone ever told you that your hair 
shines like amber in sunset?" 
 
A little startled, she eyed him.  Well, it was a nice sentiment.  
Leaning forward, she took hold of his tie and pulled him forward.  "Not 
recently," she breathed. 
 
He was breathing more heavily.  "And your eyes are the most 
amazing shade of aquamarine, Agent Scully, like looking into the 
depths of the mysterious Bermuda Triangle." 
 
There was only one triangle she was interested in having him admire, 
right now and it wasn't in Bermuda.  Thankful she had stocked the 
glove compartment with supplies, Scully ran her fingers down the 
front of his shirt to his trousers.  "Go on."   
 
Yep, Mulder was right, whatever was hiding back there was certainly 
of generous heft and length.  Oooh, very nice indeed.  Although 
Mulder's ridiculous worry about his penis size was starting to annoy 
her.... 
 
His fingers were fumbling her blouse open; nope, no fumbling, she 
was wrong about that, he managed the front clasp on her bra without 
any trouble at all.  And she'd left her panties at Mulder's, this was 
going to be very, very smooth.   
 
"Your skin is like alabaster, threaded through with veins of lapis 
lazuli," he muttered, leaning down to lick the skin between her 
breasts. 
 
Hmmm, she thought, this had certain attractions that Mulder's mute 
admiration lacked.  "Go on," she whispered and managed to undo his 
belt. 
 
"Nipples like ripe--cherries," he gulped and took one into his mouth, 
sucking and nipping with a great deal more skill than she'd imagined; 
he must not spend *all* his time lurking outside Mulder's apartment.  
Raising his head, he leaned up to take her mouth.  "Lips as tender as 
rose petals," he breathed and covered her rose petals with his mouth.   
 
Oh, my, God, the man could kiss like a god--squirming, she kicked 
off her shoes and shifted her legs, fumbling a little with his zipper.  
Oh, God, he wasn't wearing any underwear.  Maybe he'd left his at 
Mulder's, too.   
 
Her hand closed over silky, spongy flesh, her thumb brushed the 
swollen head, feeling the trace of fluid there.  Oh, yes, oh, 
yes....Squirming again, she got him between her legs while reaching 
for the glove compartment.  It popped open helpfully; she snatched a 
small square packet out and tried to rip it open without luck.   
 
He raised his head again.  "Sweet, pale, shell-like ears," he 
murmured and nibbled on one lobe, making her whimper.   
 
Craning her neck over his shoulder, she put a corner of the packet 
between her teeth and pulled--thank God, thank God.... 
 
X moved down to kiss her breasts again, moved down farther to kiss 
her belly.  "Silken skin," he breathed, "yet full of fire." 
 
Tilting her head back, she moaned as his tongue circled under her 
breasts, found her navel and likewise anointed it; one big hand moved 
between her legs, delicately opening her and slipping inside.  Oh, 
God, she was sooo wet, and it felt sooo good. 
 
"The body of a goddess, come down to earth," he murmured and 
pushed her skirt up past her hips, bending to lift her to his mouth.  
Oh, God, that beard felt so strange, so sexy, so hot against her 
tender tissues..... 
 
She nearly screamed as his lips closed around her clitoris, the gentle 
suction driving her wild.  "Oh, God, oh, God."  She wrapped her legs 
around his neck and he rubbed his mouth on her swollen flesh, 
lapping at her, sucking at her until she came, convulsing as he thrust 
his tongue in and out of her.... 
 
"The nectar of the gods," he breathed, lifting his face, all wet with her 
juices.  He kissed the insides of her thighs,  "The taste of paradise." 
 
Okay, okay, all this was nice, but one thing you could say about 
Mulder--he might be mute, but he knew when to shut up and get 
down to business.  Sitting up, she yanked X forward by his tie.  "Shut 
up and fuck me, you big handsome spy."  With an expertise born of 
recent practice, she rolled the condom over that big, beautiful 
torpedo and lay back, pulling him into her with one swift lift of her 
hips.  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, he filled her right up and bumped 
all the right places.  
  
Making a little sound in her throat, she wrapped her arms around his 
neck and sucked on his tongue.  Poet or not, X fell to with a will, 
sliding his hands between her ass and the seat....oooh, he was 
angling just right, bumping against her clitoris gently with each thrust, 
his head dipping to taste her nipples without prejudice....oh, God, he 
was so big, no wonder Mulder had been afraid to get fucked by him, 
but the mental pictures of *that* extreme possibility brought her 
closer to the edge, just as his deep,steady strokes did....clawing at 
his shoulders, she brought herself up to his nipples, taking one in her 
mouth and nipping gently with her teeth.  He groaned and tipped his 
head back, rotating his hips as he sank in to the root again. 
 
Oh, God, Mulder was going to kill her, here she was, having promised 
to find something out from the lab, and instead she was fucking his 
informant.  And it was goooooood! 
 
Squirming, she slid her arms down so she could cup his ass--ooh, 
firm and high and well muscled.  Lord, she hated a man with a flat 
ass, but she was horribly spoiled by Mulder and Skinner and 
Chesterton and now, of course, X.   
 
Squirming harder, she managed to reach beneath to stroke his balls 
lightly with her fingertips, making him groan again.  Feeling wicked, 
she slid a hand down between them, wetting her fingers with her own 
juices, then slid those wet fingers into his ass, making him growl in 
his throat and thrust that much harder, and harder and harder--oh, 
God, she was coming again, tightening around that gorgeous piece 
of meat in her cunt, tightening until she thought she'd die, screaming 
out her pleasure in the way that made poor Mulder cringe, at least in 
the office..... 
 
X only hammered her harder, pistoning in and out of her like, God, 
like a god.....driving her from one orgasm to another to 
another.....until he stiffened and buried his face in her hair, gasping 
and gasping for air..... 
 
After a long, long time, he stirred.  "You and Mulder have to get out 
to Verlaine." 
 
"Only if you come with us," she told him huskily and nibbled on his 
upper lip.   
 
He groaned again and pulled out of her slowly, peeling the condom 
off with some distaste.   "Agent Scully, has it occurred to you just 
how much energy Agent Mulder is burning each time he climaxes?" 
 
She blinked at him.  This was an awfully clinical turn for a man who 
had said her nipples were like ripe cherries.  "Um, no, actually, it 
hasn't." 
 
He sighed, sounding weary.  "At least 15 % of a man's energy goes 
toward maintaining his, shall we say, reproductive system.  All the 
time.  Every day.  Consider that the average man has sex to orgasm 
approximately three times a week.  Now how often has Agent Mulder 
had sex to orgasm in the last two days?" 
 
Her eyes widened as the facts penetrated her preoccupation with X's 
genitals.  "Oh my God, that's why his clothes are looking looser.  
That's why he's so tired!" 
 
He rolled his eyes, his expression visible in the street light.  "You're 
killing him, Agent Scully.  Women have a good deal more 
endurance." 
 
Pushing herself up, she fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, 
punching in Mulder's number.  It rang and rang and rang and rang 
and rang.  Sincerely alarmed, she disconnected and dialed the lab.  
Pendrell answered.  "Pendrell, have you seen Agent Mulder?" 
 
"Oh, yes," Pendrell told her breathlessly, "I have.  I did. It was 
wonderful." 
 
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "Pendrell, did you fuck Agent 
Mulder." 
 
He was silent a moment.  "I, um, made love to him."  His voice was a 
little timid, all euphoria gone. 
 
She closed her eyes, groaning.  Oh, God, the very worst thing for her 
partner. 
 
"Agent Scully, are you mad at me?"  Pendrell sounded remorseful.  "I 
didn't really mean to, it's just that Agent Mulder is sooo cute.  And he 
smelled so good.  And I was thinking about you." 
 
"Shut up, Pendrell," she told him and regretted it immediately.  "No, 
don't shut up.  Did, ah, Agent Mulder, ah, have an orgasm?" 
 
Pendrell sniffled.  "Um, yeah, he did, but I don't think he was very 
happy with me, I didn't mean to come so fast, Agent Scully, it just 
happened, he was so tight and hot and it felt soooo good." 
 
"Pendrell."  Scully's tone was dangerous.  "Where is he now?" 
 
"He said he had to go out to Verlaine's labs, Agent Scully.  Are you 
mad at me?  Would you like to spank me, Agent Scully?  I can wait 
right here for you."  His voice was hopeful. 
 
She hung up.  "Mulder's on his way out there alone."  Turning around, 
she slipped her feet back into her shoes and turned the key in the 
ignition.  "Belt in, X, we're going for a ride." 
 
He groaned as he sat back.  "I think I pulled a muscle in my groin." 
 
"Shut up, X," she told him and pulled out of the parking lot with a 
squeal of rubber..... 
 
 
There was a light in Veblein's office.  Smiling maniacally, Mulder 
crept down the hall, making sure that no one else was in....when he 
reached Veblein's office, he leapt throught the door, sweeping the 
room--Veblein stared at him in shock, cigarette dropping from one 
shaking hand. 
 
Wouldn't you know it, Veblein was a smoking man.  Still with the 
maniac grin, Mulder edged forward.  "You bastard, I know there's got 
to be a cure, and I want it." 
 
Veblein pointed a shaking hand at him.  "Y-you're supposed to be 
dead!" 
 
"Didn't quite work out that way, did it, Mr. Biochemistry?" Mulder 
sneered.  "My partner is a doctor!" 
 
Vebelin sank into his chair, a frown replacing the stunned expression.  
"Damn, I'd forgotten that."  The frown deepened.  "Have you been 
eating good solid meals?" 
 
"Aside from missing lunch, yeah."  Mulder smirked.  "And she made 
me eat a huge breakfast.  Eggs, muffins, jelly, juice, the whole 
shebang." 
 
"That must be why you're still alive."  Veblein rubbed his chin.  "Did 
you use the cologne samples I gave you?" 
 
"Are you frigging crazy?"  Mulder edged closer.  "I figured it out when 
we got back to the office that same day." 
 
"That's it, of course.  Good nutrition, a partner who is a doctor, and 
no repeated exposure."  Veblein appeared to be sulking for a 
moment.  "Damn, I should have given you the stronger concentrate, 
but I was afraid it would be much too obvious, then." 
 
Mulder arched both eyebrows in disbelief.  "And having us fuck 
ourselves to death on the same case isn't?  Now quit stalling Veblein, 
I'm armed and I'm not in a good mood.  I just had the worst sex of 
my life, I'm cranky and tired, and if you don't give me the cure, I'm 
going to start by shooting off your toes and work myself up to your 
nose." 
 
Veblein gave him another wolfish smile.  "I hope that's a small caliber 
gun, then, Agent Mulder, or I'll bleed to death long before you get 
there." 
 
Mulder forgot caution and advanced on him, aiming between his 
eyes.  "On the other hand, I could get used to this, Scully's keeping 
me alive quite well, and I don't like you." 
 
"Wait, wait," Veblein looked alarmed.  "Let's not be hasty, Agent 
Mulder.  Perhaps we can negotiate a deal." 
 
Narrowing his eyes, Mulder regarded him suspiciously.  "What kind 
of deal?  You're reponsible for at least four deaths." 
 
Veblein smiled silkily.  "Five, actually, Mrs. Thurmond's heart gave out 
trying to fuck all the male orderlies last night.  But, strictly speaking, 
I'm not responsible for that, it was the result of their own actions, 
trying to heighten their sexual attractiveness."  He made a little moue 
of distaste.  "Still, I'm a scientist, the results of that were--intriguing.  
My original intent was to bring a little happiness to the world and 
make a fortune doing so.  But the government has shown a certain 
interest in this little formula.  It could give a whole new meaning to the 
phrase, make love, not war." 
 
"Bastard," Mulder hissed.  "Give me the fucking cure." 
 
"Oh, I will, Agent Mulder.  But I'm a lonely man, and you, quite 
frankly, are a lovely one."  Veblein smirked. 
 
Mulder blanched.  "Are you suggesting what I think you're 
suggesting?" 
 
"Why, certainly.  You put out my fire, and I'll put out, heh, heh, 
yours." 
 
Eew.  Well, not as bad as Cancerman, but almost.   
 
Still, if there was a chance for a cure....still hesitant, Mulder eyed the 
scientist, swallowed hard.  "Tonight.  I want the cure tonight." 
 
"Of course, Agent Mulder."  Veblein's teeth showed again.   
 
Well, in certain lights he wasn't quite that bad....maybe he could go 
through with it.  God knew, his ass couldn't get any more sore than it 
already was, and he could really make hay with Scully on the 
strength of this sacrifice.   
 
It might make her forget that he'd dragged her out here in the first 
place and the whole damned thing was his fault.   
 
"Well, all right," he growled.  "But I insist on plenty of lube, dammit." 
 
Veblein's grin grew toothier.  "Ah, a little on the tender side are we?  
Agent Mulder, I never suspected it, but I'm very glad.  That sweet 
little posterior shouldn't be wasted only on women." 
 
Yuk.  Eew.  "And no kissing," Mulder warned.  "Your tongue comes 
anywhere near my mouth and I'll shoot you." 
 
Veblein's smile dimmed.  "Ah, well, if that's the way it must be.  But 
I've had fantasies about the lovely lower lip of yours." 
 
Everyone did.  Sulkily, Mulder put his gun back in the holster and 
began to undress. 
 
 
Officer Bobby Tidwell saw the Taurus on the side of the highway and 
groaned.  One thing worse than peckerheads getting drunk in the 
woods was teenagers screwing in the car.   
 
Goddamn, what was the world coming to?  In his day, a fella was 
lucky to get to second base by the time he was engaged, and now he 
had to keep pullin' buck nekkid kids out the back seats of momma 
and daddy's car, condoms handed out in schools, the world was 
going to hell in a handbasket, that was all there was to it.... 
 
Pulling up behind the car, he was freshly annoyed that they seemed 
to pay absolutely no attention to the bubble lights; by this time, he 
was usually seein' clothes a flyin' this way and that.  Not this pair, 
they just kept a rockin' that car--the windows were probably too 
steamed up to see anything. 
 
Rapping on the window with the butt of his flashlight, he set his face 
in the most threatening expression he knew, rapped again, with 
increasing annoyance, as he was ignored. 
 
The front driver's side window finally rolled down and a red-headed 
woman poked her head out, looking as annoyed as he felt. 
 
"Outa the car, kids," he growled. 
 
"Huh."  She flapped a little bitty wallet at him.  Shining the light on it, 
he swallowed hard and looked back at her.   
 
Oh jumpin' Jesus Christ, the badge was FBI, her blouse was open 
and her titties were hanging out bare for anyone to see--he jerked his 
eyes back to the wallet, then back to her expression, one of serious 
PMS, just like Mary Lou on a bad day.  "As you were, officer." 
 
He swallowed hard again.  "Ma'am, parking is prohibited along the 
highway here." 
 
"I'm not parking, I'm conducting an interrogation."  She rolled the 
window back up. 
 
Feeling foolish, he stood there with a boner in his uniform pants for a 
long moment before trudging back to the patrol car.  After another 
long moment, he started the car and pulled out again.  Funniest 
damn interrogation he ever saw, but he was damned if he was gonna 
get mixed up in Federal business. 
 
But Goddamn, she had the sweetest little pair he'd seen in a long 
time..... 
 
 
"Agent Scully," X moaned, "We have *got* to get to Verlaine." 
 
Releasing the tight vaginal clench she had him in, Scully sighed.  
"You're right, you're right.  I hope Mulder appreciates this."  Turning 
back to the wheel again, she didn't bother with shoes this time, just 
put the car in gear and took off in a spray of gravel. 
 
 
Gasping, Mulder lay back on the desk, every muscle in his body 
aching.  For a troll, Veblein was surprisingly energetic when it came 
to sex.   
 
And voracious.  He'd come twice to Veblein's once and was 
beginning to wish he'd taken time to eat another plate of chicken 
before leaving home.  Oh, noooo, he had to rush off because he was 
afraid to be alone with Chester.   
 
At least Chester kissed him and brought him iced tea and worried 
about him.  This...this barracuda with him now was probably 
watching gleefully, waiting for him to expire.  Well, better men than 
Veblein had tried to kill him and failed....."I'm in the wet spot." 
 
Veblein, still a little short of breath, sank back in his chair and lit a 
cigarette with shaking hands.  "Of course you are, darling," he 
breathed and tipped his head back, chest heaving.  "Oh, my, you are 
the sweetest, hottest thing.  Agent Mulder, are you sure you want the 
cure?" 
 
"Positive."  Putting an arm over his eyes, Mulder gulped in air, filling 
his lungs.  He was never going to be able to sit down again.  Never.   
 
Never......he must have dozed then, the next thing he knew was that 
Veblein was sucking greedily on Sparky.  "Hey, wait a minute, I put 
out." 
 
Veblein raised his head, looking eerily like Igor in Young 
Frankenstein.  Mulder shuddered.  "I said you'd have to put out my 
fire," Veblein told him huskily.  "And it's not out, yet." 
 
Throwing his head back down, Mulder gritted his teeth.  "All right, 
dammit, but remember what I said about kissing." 
 
"How could I forget, darling?"  Veblein sucked him in again, and 
goddamn fucking Sparky responded.  He was going to use a rusty 
razor blade and castrate himself before this was over, he just knew 
it..... 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 13/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Bouncing on X's cock, Scully screamed out another long, long, long 
orgasm, lightly scratching X's chest in her enthusiasm.  The windows 
were completely steamed, no way to see if another patrol car was 
sneaking up on them.  Her blouse was completely untucked, her skirt 
was riding above her hips and she was still sooooo incredibly horny. 
 
"Agent Scully."  X's voice was faint.  "Can we please go save Agent 
Mulder now?" 
 
Mulder?  She leaned back, frowning faintly.  Mulder? 
 
Oooh, Mulder, her partner.  Oooh, yeah, her partner.  That incredibly 
cute, lanky, long legged partner of hers.  With the luscious mouth 
and the sweet cock and the tight butt.  And the nipples, oh, yeah, the 
nipples. 
 
"Yeah,"  She grinned.  "I forgot."  Wriggling off him, she shoved his 
legs over and slid behind the driver's side again, putting the car in 
gear.  Gee, she was starting to get low on gas, maybe they should 
stop on the way..... 
 
 
"I'm in another wet spot," Mulder whined, so tired he was seeing 
double, the cold surface of the desk making him break out in 
gooseflesh.   
 
Two of Veblein was no treat.  And his ass hurt, one giant throbbing 
nerve that seemed to have spread to his cock.  The last time he 
came, he was afraid he was going to shoot blood.  Sparky's head was 
raw--what Veblein needed was a lesson in giving head from X. Or 
Skinner.  Or Scully.  Or Chester.  Or, fuck, even 
Pendrell....."Where's the fucking cure, Veblein." 
 
The pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray was alarmingly high.  Mulder 
had to admit, it was pretty amazing, a man Veblein's age could still 
come that many times and still get it up again and again.  He hated 
him.   
 
He was beginning to hate sex.  He was going to resign from the FBI 
and join a Buddhist monastery.  Even if he had to become Buddhist 
to do it.  Believing in a god of any kind was preferable to having 
another orgasm..... 
 
Veblein got out of the chair, wheezing.  "Agent Mulder, I must 
commend you for your endurance," he mumbled and bent over 
Mulder's body again. 
 
"All I want is the fucking cure!"  Mulder cried hopelessly.  Oh, no, not 
again..... 
 
 
The gas station attendant was cute, Scully thought, especially being 
plowed from behind while he plunged in and out of her wetness.  The 
front seat was a little cramped, so they'd moved to the back.....and 
she'd gotten a discount on the gas, even gotten the tires checked 
while X slumped against the passenger side window. 
 
"Agent Scully, if I ever regain my strength, I'm going to have to kill 
your partner." 
 
"Now, now," she chided and slipped back behind the driver's seat, 
leaning out to give the cute kid a kiss on the cheek.  "You be good 
now," she told him and started the car. 
 
"No, I mean it."  X pushed himself upright.  "This is his fault, I'm 
going to have to shoot him." 
 
"The only weapon you better point at Mulder is the one you're 
packing in your pants," she warned.  "I don't want to have to hurt 
you, X, it's a shame to waste those talents--have you ever thought of 
taking up another line of work?" 
 
He groaned.  "Just drive, Agent Scully." 
 
Sighing, she did. 
 
 
"I'm still in the wet spot," Mulder moaned.   
 
Veblein lit another goddamned cigarette.  The room was hazy with 
smoke, thick enough to be a pea-soup London fog.   
 
"I know, darling," Veblein wheezed and took a drag on his cigarette.  
"Come here, baby, I want your mouth on my cock." 
 
Enough was enough.   
 
Rolling off the desk, Mulder advanced on him.  "Listen you little troll, 
you've fucked me five times, five times is enough for any man, let 
alone a troll, now give me the fucking cure or I'll twist your pointed 
little head off your neck!"  He reached for Veblein's neck, but the little 
man raised a hand, still smiling that wolfish smile. 
 
He waited, teeth grinding.  He didn't care anymore, nothing was 
going to feel as good as choking the life out of Veblein. 
 
"Too late," Veblein coughed.  "M-my heart, darling, you've made me 
a very happy man, I'm going to meet my maker with a smile on my 
face." 
 
"No!"  Mulder grabbed the scrawny shoulders and shook him.  
"Goddammit, don't you dare!!!  Where's the fucking cure!!" 
 
Veblein's lips were turning blue, but he smiled beatifically at Mulder.  
"No cure," he wheezed, "Only immunity...."  The last of his breath 
came out with a rattling sound and the cigarette fell from nerveless 
fingers. 
 
"Oh, shit!"  Mulder stomped both feet childishly.  "You motherfucker, 
you did, you went and died on me!  And what the fuck does that 
mean, immunity!?" 
 
The door burst open and X staggered in, doing the most wobbly 
impression of an armed sweep that Mulder had ever seen.   
 
"You're too late," he told X crossly.  "He's dead." 
 
Scully came behind him, fixing her lipstick.  Looking up, she snapped 
the compact closed and smiled.  "Hi, Mulder, we're here to save you." 
 
"Too late!"  He kicked the desk, swore savagely, and hopped on one 
foot, holding the injured one.   "He's dead, Scully.  He fucked himself 
to death." 
 
Scully looked at the desk, wrinkling her nose at the sight of it.  
"Mulder, you let him fuck you?" 
 
"I wanted the cure," he said piteously and rubbed the bruised toes.  
"He said he'd give it to me." 
 
There was a peculiar gleam in X's eyes.  "I'd say he gave it to you, all 
right," he commented, eyeing Mulder's ass.  "Mulder, you're--wet." 
 
Suddenly reminded, Mulder looked around and snatched up Veblein's 
shirt, tying it around his waist by the sleeves. 
 
Scully tapped her foot, her expression thoughtful.  "Well, he's lubed 
up, already," she told the room at large.  "And you did say you 
wanted to shoot him." 
 
Mulder's eyes widened as X advanced on him.   
 
"And she said I could," X told him, smiling as toothily as Veblein at 
his worst. 
 
"Oooh, no!"  Mulder tried to bolt, found himself caught and held 
tightly.  "Not in the wet spot!  Anywhere but there!" 
 
X paused.  "He's got a point, Agent Scully." 
 
Scully pursed her lips thoughtfully.  "There's a couch in the reception 
area.  Or we could take him out to the car." 
 
"Better stop and get him something to eat, first."  X was stroking his 
hair; it was the creepiest sensation of the night. 
 
Whimpering, Mulder resigned himself to his fate.  "I want a big Mac, 
french fries and a chocolate shake." 
 
X chuckled softly.  "I can guarantee the chocolate shake, Agent 
Mulder." 
 
Scully laughed merrily all the way to the car..... 
 
 
"Fuck him,"  Scully exhorted X, urging him on with the palm of her 
hand applied smartly to his buttocks. 
 
"I *am* fucking him," X growled, sounding irritable. 
 
Though what X had to be irritable about, Mulder couldn't begin to 
imagine.   
 
After all, *he* was the one lying on his stomach in the back seat of a 
Ford Taurus, getting reamed....again.  The only good thing about it 
was that he was starting to get numb.  Maybe lube had anesthetic 
qualities--or he was just so damned tired he couldn't feel anything 
anymore....ow, ow, no, he could still feel X slamming in deep, oh, 
god, X grabbed Sparky, no, no, he didn't *want* to feel anything, but 
X was fucking ruthless.  Ruthless at fucking.  Oh, shit, he was going 
to come again and he really didn't think it was a good idea. 
 
He pushed his face into the upholstered seat--at least it wasn't vinyl, 
the upholstery muffled his screams better.....oh, god, he was coming 
again, where the hell was *it* coming from, anyway, he ought to be 
limp as a Chinese noodle by now.... 
 
X shuddered above him, leaned down and bit the back of his neck 
gently.  The sun was shining through the trees that surrounded them 
on this backwoods dirt road that Scully had found.  Found while X 
was busy molesting him in the back seat.  Once parked, she'd hung 
over the seat, offering suggestions until that round was finished. 
 
He wanted to kill her.  He wanted to kill X.  And if they didn't let him 
get some sleep, he was going to strangle them both with his bare 
hands and Scully's garter belt.... 
 
X sighed, pulled out, and got out of the car, flinging the condom away 
with a certain flair.  "Take him home, Agent Scully." 
 
Bright-eyed, she studied X as he straightened his clothing.  "What 
about you?" 
 
X took in a deep lungful of morning air.  "I believe I'll walk."  Lifting his 
foot, he kicked the back door shut just as Mulder swung his legs back 
in. 
 
Scully sighed regretfully.  "Well, it is getting pretty late.  Wouldn't 
want to scare any hikers." 
 
Mulder shuddered at the possibilities that suggested themselves with 
*that* remark.  Her mind was--depraved was a term he'd never 
thought of in connection with Scully before tonight.  This morning.  
Whatever.  But it certainly fit.   
 
Messalina had nothing on Scully.  Caligula was an amateur compared 
to Scully.   The Marquis de Sade would sign up to take lessons from 
Scully.   
 
It made him wonder what went on in parochial schools.   
 
"Can we go home now?" he asked faintly.  "I'm really tired, Scully." 
 
She gave him an annoyed look.  "Mulder, you're getting stodgy in 
your old age." 
 
He considered that.  "Scully, stodgy doesn't even begin to describe 
my day."  Or night, for that matter.  Reaching for his jeans, he began 
the painful process of putting them back on.  It hurt to tuck Sparky 
inside, his cock was *that* tender.   
 
Flouncing, Scully turned around in the driver's seat and started the 
car.  "Aren't you going to get in the front seat, Mulder?" she asked, 
pulling off the shoulder.   
 
He managed to get his socks on.  "I'm safer back here," he 
whimpered--god, his jeans were hurting places he hadn't known he 
had.....and bloody hell, Chesterton was still there..... 
 
 
It was nine am before they reached his apartment.  There was a god 
after all; Chesterton was gone. 
 
Sitting huddled in the corner of his couch, Mulder regarded his 
partner resentfully.   
 
She'd given permission to X to fuck him, hell, she'd not only 
encouraged it, she'd fucking choreographed it.  "Don't even look at 
me, Scully," he warned. 
 
Scully leaned back against her own corner, smirking at him.  "Spoil 
sport.  We'll have to get the car professionally cleaned before we turn 
it back in." 
 
He shuddered.  "It's notoriously hard to get those particular body 
fluids out of car upholstery, Scully.  And what the cleaning crew is 
going to think....." 
 
"Better than vinyl," she told him absently, eyeing his crotch. 
 
He shuddered again and crossed his legs, then uncrossed them--
bad, bad idea, it fucking hurt...."I know.  Believe me, I know." 
 
That got him a bright-eyed curious look.  A bright-eyed, curious and 
very frightening look.  "How?" 
 
"Never mind."  He brooded again.  He was going to be able to pack 
his shaving kit up his ass, setting off airport security metal detectors 
everywhere he went. 
 
Scully twirled a lock of hair around one finger.  "Okay, what did 
Veblein say about the cure?" 
 
He brooded for a moment, shifting to take his weight off the tender 
places.   
 
Not that there were many spots on his body that weren't tender.  
Well, maybe a spot under his chin.  "Immunity." 
 
She was silent for a moment, finally bringing her eyes up to his face.  
"Immunity?  What the hell does that mean?" she demanded.   
 
"How the hell should I know,. you're the doctor." he snarled and 
shifted his weight again. 
 
Her eyebrows drew together.  "You're the psychologist, write a profile 
on him." 
 
"I never saw his profile, he was behind me the whole time," he 
retorted, then, as he saw her shift, "Don't come near me, Scully.  I'll 
shoot you.  I have a gun." 
 
She slid across the couch toward him anyway, smirking.  "Oooh, I 
love it when you talk dirty, Mulder." 
 
"Don't touch me, dammit--ow, dammit, not on the lips, Scully, not on 
the lips, dammit, don't touch my lips!"  He fended her off with less 
than his usual skill, ended up on the floor, rolling around while she 
tried to get his gun.   
 
His real gun.   
 
Evidently, she took his threat seriously--which was damned smart, 
considering he was taking the safety off when he rolled onto his back 
with her straddling his chest.  "I mean it, Scully, I'll shoot you!" 
 
"No, you won't, Mulder."  She unbuttoned the shirt he'd stolen from 
Veblein.  The sleeves were too short and it was too tight across the 
shoulders, but it was better than his drool and semen soaked 
sweater. 
 
"The safety's off, Scully," he warned, a little close to hysteria.  "I 
mean it, I'll shoot you deader than dirt." 
 
"Dirt isn't dead, Mulder," she purred, running her fingernails over his 
nipples.  "It's full of little microorganisms." 
 
He yelped--his nipples were still tender from Veblein's and X's teeth--
and put the gun to the side of her head.  "Right in the head, Scully.  
I've got nothing left to lose." 
 
"Mulder, if you shoot me, you'll go to jail," she told him, sliding down 
so she could get the rest of the buttons.  "And you know what's 
gonna happen to you in jail, don't you?" 
 
He moaned, thinking about that. "Okay, I'll shoot *myself* after I 
shoot you!" 
 
The door opened suddenly. 
 
Looking up, his stomach tightening in dread, Mulder saw Chesterton 
staring at him wide-eyed, saw Skinner and his wife standing behind 
him.  "Aren't you supposed to be at the office?" he asked faintly, 
hope draining out of him.  He could maybe kill Scully.  He didn't think 
he could kill all four of them. 
 
Although it might be worth a try. 
 
Inching toward him, hand resting on his holster, Chesterton 
swallowed.  "It's Saturday, Spooks, we don't go in on Saturday's 
normally." 
 
Skinner crowded through, passed Chesterton, and hunkered down.  
"Agent Mulder, put the gun down.  You don't really want to shoot your 
partner." 
 
Yes, actually, he did.   And then he wanted to shoot Chesterton and 
Skinner and Mrs. Skinner.  And then himself.... 
 
Suddenly, it was all too much.  He was doomed, he might as well just 
accept it, take it like a man....  "I'm hungry," he whimpered.  "And 
tired.  And sore.  I wanna go home." 
 
"Mulder, you are home," Scully pointed out, her expression gleeful. 
 
"And I brought some chicken soup," Sharon Skinner came through, 
carrying a pot.  "Walter said he wasn't sure you were feeling well, 
and Tom said you hadn't made it home all night--we thought we'd 
better make sure you and Agent Scully were all right." 
 
He *was* doomed.  Defeated, he put the gun down and covered his 
face with his hands.  "I want something to eat first," he moaned.  
"Lots and lots of food.  And a shower.  And sleep." 
 
Skinner knelt beside him, tracing the shape of his ear.  "I can't 
guarantee the sleep, Agent Mulder, but I can vouch for the food and 
the shower.  Phew, you smell like you've been ridden hard and put up 
wet." 
 
Scully giggled.  The bitch.  He really did want to shoot her.  Multiple 
times.   
 
"Oh, he's been ridden hard,sir," Scully told Skinner, chortling, "I'm 
not sure he's going to be able to sit down for days.  Lots and lots of 
days." 
 
Sharon Skinner knelt, too.  "Poor Agent Mulder," she cooed, stroking 
the hair back from his forehead.  "You go take your shower and I'll fix 
you up a nice hot bowl of chicken soup." 
 
Eyes moving to her, he saw only kindness there--no, wait, there was 
a hint of lust.  His lower lip trembled.  "Promise?" 
 
"Of course," she told him, her tone sincere.  "We'll keep Agent Scully 
occupied while you eat." 
 
Skinner chuckled.  "Come on, Mulder, up on your feet--Scully.  
Scully?  Scully, you have to get off him." 
 
Sighing, Scully obeyed.  "Well, all right, but only if you promise to 
keep me occupied." 
 
"Want some help in the shower, Spooks?" Chesterton asked 
solicitiously, moving forward. 
 
Whimpering, he let Skinner help him to his feet.  "No, no help, 
nobody helps me, and I'm locking the bathroom door." 
 
Skinner ruffled his hair.  "Go ahead, Mulder, I'll stand guard." 
 
He started for the bathroom, but stopped, suddenly frozen by a 
thought.  "But sir, who's going to guard me from you?" 
 
Skinner's chuckle made his hair stand on end.  All but running, he ran 
for the bathroom and locked himself in. 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 14/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Scully leaned against the bathroom door, tapping on it patiently.  "Mulder, 
you have to come out.   Tom and Walter have gone to get some tools to 
take the door off."  All that could be heard was whimpering.  She shrugged 
and looked at Sharon hopefully. 
 
Sharon sighed and moved toward the door.  "Fox, I've got a nice hot 
bowl of soup for you.  Aren't you hungry?  You know, Walter's not 
going to be very happy if he has to take the hinges off your bathroom 
door." 
 
Scully waited.  After a long, long moment, the lock clicked.  A sadder, 
thinner, wearier, hungrier Mulder opened the door, wrapped only in a 
towel.  Her mouth watered, but she managed to control the desire to 
yank it off. 
 
Sharon held the bowl out, temptingly.  "And I've got some nice crusty 
rolls, Fox," she murmured. 
 
Mesmerized, he took a step forward.  "Nobody will bother me while I 
eat?" he asked hopefully. 
 
"No one will bother you while you eat," Sharon agreed, giving Scully a 
stern look. 
 
Scully bit her lip and nodded agreement.  "I promise, Mulder." 
 
He darted out of the bathroom then, and vanished into his bedroom, 
emerging after a few moments wearing ratty sweats, socks, and his 
bathrobe.  "Okay, then." 
 
Still holding the bowl of soup, Sharon lured him out to the kitchen.  
Sitting down, he took the bowl and spoon and dug in ravenously. 
 
Watching, Scully almost felt badly.  He really was starving.  And no 
wonder.  After all, X had reminded her just how much energy he was 
burning, and the poor guy hadn't had any sleep to speak of--buttering 
a roll generously, she gave it to him.   
 
He almost took her fingertips with it, biting into it with such 
enthusiasm, she was relieved he'd used his hand to snatch it.  After 
all, they'd gotten him two big Macs, two orders of fries, a lot of 
caffeine.....there was no call for this! 
 
Sharon watched happily as he polished off four rolls, two bowls of 
soup, two microwave pizzas and four glasses of milk before Skinner 
and Chesterton returned with Skinner's toolkit. 
 
Skinner came into the kitchen and watched in awe as Mulder finished 
his meal.  "Good God, Scully, what have you been doing to him?" 
 
"Moi?"  Scully widened her eyes innocently.  "I wasn't the one who 
fucked him--how many times was it last night, Mulder?--in Veblein's 
office.  Or in the car." 
 
Skinner chuckled; Mulder gave him a dark look and finished off his 
milk.  "I'm going to take a nap," he announced, his tone more than a 
little truculent. 
 
Skinner arched an eyebrow at him.  Scully grinned.  "Sir, maybe you 
better tuck him in." 
 
"Hey, I wanna tuck him in," Chesterton protested. 
 
There was a wild look in Mulder's eyes; oooh, she loved it, she really 
did.  He was so darn cute when he was reluctant, it made her quiver 
deep inside. 
 
She grinned at him.  "Live a little, Mulder, maybe you can sleep 
between innings." 
 
Moaning, he bolted for the bedroom.....only he was not alone. 
 
 
Mulder was dreaming.  At least, he hoped he was dreaming.    
 
Unfortunately, he was dreaming that someone was sucking him off, 
which, at this point, was more on the order of a nightmare.  He'd 
rather dream about little grey men performing experiments on him.... 
 
Cracking open one eyelid, he looked down to find Chester's lips 
locked on his shaft--whimpering, he raised his eyes to find that 
Skinner was slamming into Chester from behind.   
 
Sharon Skinner and Scully were occupying each other beside him; 
turning his head, he got a much better look at Sharon Skinner than 
he'd ever wanted to have.... 
 
"I'm hungry," he whined.  "Chester, stop that, I'm hungry." 
 
Everybody stopped and stared at him. 
 
"Looks who's awake," Skinner said cheerfully.  "Scully, I think it's time 
for his two o'clock feeding." 
 
Raising her head, Scully sighed.  "Mulder, you could mess up a wet 
dream, you know that?  All right, all right, I'll get you something to 
eat." 
 
Sharon Skinner ruffled his hair.  "Poor Agent Mulder," she crooned.  
"We've just been abusing your hospitality shamefully." 
 
He peered toward the windows, shuddering.  It was dark out.  He 
turned his head toward the clock, he found it was, in fact, two am.  
 
Didn't any of these people have a life?  Was sex all they had to 
occupy their time?  What about art, music, basketball?  What about 
cable television?  What about pornography?  Why couldn't they just 
fantasize like normal people?  Why did they have to bring their 
fantasies into reality?  Especially their fantasies about him? 
 
They'd all piled on top of him when he fled to the bedroom, trying to 
figure out who squirmed the most in the middle.  Unhappily, it had 
been him, which had only spurred on the proceedings, especially 
when Sparky had raised his flagging self and shown some interest in 
them. 
 
He'd finally gotten to sleep around four.  He didn't remember anything 
else.  No, wait, he remembered somebody feeding him chicken soup 
around eight when he'd pleaded for something to eat, while Scully--
oh, god, he couldn't bear to remember, it was worse than the 
elevator. 
 
The most terrible thing was not remembering whether or not he'd had 
the chance to fuck either Chester or Skinner.  It was only fair, after 
all, turnabout, fair play, all that crap.... 
 
Bereft of Scully, Sharon Skinner pulled Chester around by the ears 
and put his mouth to use where it was wanted.  Still stroking in and 
out of Chester, Skinner looked down on Mulder, admiringly.  "You 
sure you don't need a little attention, Agent Mulder?" 
 
Mulder looked down at that rat bastard Sparky, standing up in 
defiance of his master.  "I'm quite sure, sir," he whimpered and 
yanked a corner of the sheet up over himself; he discovered that it 
was unpleasantly damp and tossed it back hastily. 
 
Skinner's eyes moved back to what he was doing--thank god, it gave 
him a chance to stealthily slide out of bed and grab his discarded 
sweats.  He knew they were his, Chester and Skinner had both been 
wearing jeans..... 
 
Tiptoeing down the hall, he found his trainers and socks in the 
bathroom, paused in the darkness as Scully went past carrying a 
bowl.....please god, don't let her see him, oh, 
pleasepleaseplease....she didn't. 
 
The minute she passed, he darted out and down the hallway, 
fumbling into his sweat pants before breaking for the front door.   
 
The sound of shattering crockery could be heard behind him--he 
bolted again, shirt, socks, shoes under one arm, moving as fast as 
his depleted condition would allow. 
 
He made it almost to the elevator before Chester tackled him, 
wearing only jeans. 
 
"Lemme go!" he cried hopelessly.  "Please, Chester, be a pal, lemme 
get out of here, I won't tell anyone, I won't do anyone, I just wanna 
get some sleep." 
 
One of his neighbor's doors opened. 
 
Eyeing the elderly man with a nervous smile, Chester picked up him 
and set him on his feet.  "Now, now, Spooks, you know you're sick, 
you don't need to be going anywhere until you're feeling better." 
 
"I'm not sick," Mulder said piteously.  Well, he wasn't, unless being 
sick of sex could count.  "Please let me go, Chester.  Didn't I get you 
through that forensics exam?  Huh?  You owe me." 
 
"Heh, heh," Chester patted his hair, gave the neighbor man a thin 
smile.  "He's got a high fever, he's delirious, thinks he's J. Edgar 
Hoover."  Mulder doubted Hoover had ever dreamt of having as much 
sex as he'd had in the last 24 hours.   
 
On the other hand, maybe he had, and that was why he'd been such 
a perennially hard-nosed, tightassed bastard.   
 
*He* was about ready to defect to the Consortium, if only they would 
save him from going back in that apartment.  And if Cancerman 
wasn't already slavering for him.  "Save me," he begged his neighbor.  
"All they want to do is have sex with me." 
 
The door slammed shut.  A moment later, he heard the clicking of 
multiple deadbolts. 
 
"Spooks, don't you think you're bein' just a little paranoid?"  Chester 
put an arm around him.  "Scully said you were acting a little weird 
after what Veblein did.  Got to get back on the horse that threw you, 
pal." 
 
He shuddered deeply, but surrendered, letting Chester lead him back 
to his apartment. 
 
Scully looked annoyed, tapping one bare foot while she paced the 
livingroom, wearing only one of his t-shirts.  Skinner's expression was 
tolerant and Sharon's was amused.   
 
"Mulder," Scully hissed, raising a dainty fist in front of his nose.  "I 
oughta--" 
 
"Agent Scully," Skinner interrupted.  "Agent Chesterton, go in and 
run Agent Mulder a hot bath." 
 
Ohmigod, now what were they planning.  A hot bath?  What new 
depravity was he expected to participate in? 
 
"A hot bath?"  Chesterton sounded baffled.   
 
"A hot bath," Skinner repeated and laid a heavy hand on Mulder's 
shoulder. 
 
Mulder cringed.  "A hot bath?" he asked faintly, fearfully.  What could 
they do to him in a hot bath?  Oh, god, Skinner wasn't thinking of 
enemas, was he?  Please, oh, please, let that not be it.... 
 
Skinner's mouth twitched at him.  "Just a hot bath," he assured him.  
"You're just a little tired and sore, Agent Mulder.  You'll feel better 
after a hot bath." 
 
He doubted even microwaving would make him feel better.  "I don't 
think so, sir," he told Skinner doubtfully.  "I'm a lot sore and a lot 
tired.  I don't even want to see *myself* naked, let alone anyone 
else." 
 
Skinner nodded understandingly.  "You've been a busy boy, the last 
few days, Agent Mulder.  You're not used to it." 
 
Just thinking about *getting* used to it made his skin crawl.   
 
Sharon vanished into the kitchen and came back with a steaming 
bowl.  "Sit down, Agent Mulder," she told him smoothly.  "You need 
sustenance."  She winked at Scully.  "Unfortunately, you fellas need a 
lot of refueling." 
 
Refueling.  God, they thought he was a machine....still, it smelled 
awfully good.  Whimpering a little, he let himself be guided to a chair 
and opened his mouth for the first spoonful. 
 
Scully glowered at him the entire time. 
 
 
Much later, scowling, Scully regarded her supine partner with 
annoyance.   
 
He'd polished off a gallon of milk, the rest of the soup, had scrambled 
eggs and toast and been bathed like a pasha.  He'd whined about the 
sheets until Chesterton had put on fresh, whimpered about how sore 
and tired he was until Skinner gave him a head to toe massage, and 
was now lying with his head in Sharon Skinner's lap whining about 
how his partner didn't understand him while Chester rubbed his feet. 
 
As if divining her discontent, Skinner stroked her spine.  "Down, girl, 
he's just worn out."  His mouth was warm on the nape of her neck.  
"You can't ride a good horse until he drops." 
 
She melted, almost purred as Skinner's fingers loosened the knots in 
her shoulders.  Well, okay, as long as she was getting her share, 
Mulder could whine all he wanted..... 
 
"Who said Mulder's a good horse?" she asked lazily.  "He's already 
out of the race." 
 
Skinner chuckled in her ear.  "He's been ridden pretty hard--how 
many times did Veblein fuck him?" 
 
"Mmm, he said five."  Skinner's hand moved deliciously lower, 
stroking the small of her back.  She arched into it happily. 
 
Skinner's breath kissed her skin.  "And how many times did X do 
him?" 
 
Scully frowned.  Okay, maybe she'd been a little unfair.  "Only twice." 
 
"And Pendrell?"  Skinner's mouth teased her ear lobe, sending 
shivers through her. 
 
"Mm, at least once." 
 
"And you and Chester?" 
 
"Well, only once, but he came about five or six times." 
 
Skinner drew back, incredulous.  "Get outa here!" 
 
"No, really, I counted."  Scully giggled softly, remembering. 
 
"Amazing."  Skinner kissed the side of her throat.  "But then, he's 
always amazed me.  There's a rumor he was the center of a party in 
the elevator earlier in the day."  Skinner *licked* the side of her 
throat, moved his hand over the curve of her buttocks and down, 
teasing her with light, feathery touches. 
 
Her eyes widened fractionally.  An orgy in the elevator?  And she'd 
missed it?  "That little worm." 
 
Skinner chuckled again.  "Wasn't his fault, I hear.  He was more or 
less an innocent bystander in that one, or so Kim tells me.  I'll have to 
keep her busy or she'll be stalking him in the basement.  Oh, and 
Cancerman took a crack at him." 
 
She shuddered.  "No way." 
 
"Mulder threw up on Cancerman's shoes."  Skinner chuckled again, 
slipped his fingers inside her.  "Have a little pity this time, Scully.  
The poor guy's done in." 
 
She sighed, half-closed her eyes, then opened them abruptly.  
Mulder was nuzzling Sharon Skinner's breasts while Chester stroked 
his thighs.  "Oh, really." 
 
"That proves the quality in his bloodlines," Skinner murmured.  "Can't 
keep a good man down for long."  He sighed and moved behind her.  
"Let's see, where is that box--ah, here it is."  There was a tearing 
sound; she turned to see him properly dressed for the occasion.  
Leaning forward, she sighed as he slid into her and began to move 
her hips to and fro. 
 
Mulder looked at her, smiling drowsily.  Whatever he might think, his 
body was just as interested as it ever was--just watching Chester go 
down on him made her mouth water..... 
 
Oooh, this was the hottest time she'd ever had, three hot men and 
two hot women--whoever said orgies couldn't be fun?  Certainly not 
Dana Katherine Scully, graduate of parochial schools....no wonder 
nuns were cranky all the time, they never had any fun! 
 
Skinner's hands held her hips, slid down between her legs and busied 
themselves in the most amazing ways.  She was never going to be 
able to sit across from his desk and listen to him rant at Mulder 
without remembering this.....oooh, Sharon had gotten into the act 
with Chester, Mulder was doing that little whimpering thing  again that 
drove everyone crazy.... 
 
She wondered if Mulder knew that Chester really was gay, he'd 
confided it to her while cooking dinner the night before....nah, he 
thought it was Chester's sense of humor, no sense in letting *that* 
news out, it might spoil things later on.... 
 
Skinner's hips moved forward, his belly hitting her from behind; she 
arched her back, wanting him deeper, his fingertips tormented her, 
stroked the slippery hood gently, oh, so gently, just the right 
touch.....oooh, no wonder he'd risen so fast in the Bureau, a man of 
many talents..... 
 
"Agent Scully," Skinner murmured, "I think it might be time to 
consider giving you and Agent Mulder a more suitable office for your 
department." 
 
She couldn't seem to get her breath.  "Oh, no, sir, we like the 
basement." 
 
He kept moving those hips, pushing in and out of her with 
excruciatingly slow movements.  "Oh, really?  I can understand that.  
But at least I can get a better couch down there." 
 
She could feel him smile against the nape of her neck.  "A queen size 
sleeper couch would be nice, sir." 
 
"Why take half-measures?  We'll get a king."    He did something 
amazingly deft with his fingers. 
 
She moaned, feeling another orgasm sneaking up on her.  "Oh, 
yeah, and we'll need sheets, sir.  And lots of other supplies." 
 
"Submit the expense reports, Agent Scully."  He nibbled at the side of 
her throat, sounding a little breathless himself.  "I'll see that they're 
signed." 
 
"Ohgodogodogod," she cried, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm 
coming....." 
 
Mulder started from sexual paralysis as if someone had goosed him.  
"God, Scully, the neighbors will hear you!" 
 
As if on cue, someone pounded the ceiling. 
 
Everyone but Mulder looked up.  "Get a life," they said in unison and 
Mulder pulled a pillow over his head. 
 
 
Blinking, Walter Skinner stared at the digital clock and realized what 
it was trying to tell him.  11:21 in the morning.  Wow, what a day.  
What a night.  What a morning.   
 
Lifting his head, he regarded the prone shapes around him and 
realized he'd been sleeping with his head on Mulder's sweet little ass.  
Patting it affectionately, he lifted a pillow and found his wife with her 
head pillowed on Chesterton's groin.   
 
He had to assume that the shape under the sheets at the bottom of 
the bed was Scully.  Mulder, aside from his ass, was covered with 
pillows and the bedspread.   
 
And so far as he remembered, they hadn't invited anyone else. 
 
Leaning down, he kissed Sharon's mouth.  "Rise and shine, 
sweetheart, we ought to be getting home.  Your mother's coming 
over for dinner tonight." 
 
Sharon yawned and stretched like a cat, working out the kinks.  
"Mmm, come here, lover.  I haven't had this much fun in years." 
 
There was a small, almost frightened sound from the pillows covering 
Mulder's head.  The pillows shifted and two wide hazel eyes could be 
seen.  "I'm going to close my eyes and when I open them again, you 
aren't going to be here," a shaky voice said.  "No one's going to be 
here but me." 
 
Skinner patted his ass again, leaning down to plant a kiss on it.  
"Mulder, I have to admit, I owe you an apology.  I don't usually fuck 
department heads."  Another pat.  "Usually, only the junior agents.  
But you were just irresistable." 
 
The eyes disappeared again in a hurry.  The pile of pillows trembled.  
"I'm having a really strange dream," a small voice said from beneath 
them.  "A really, really strange and scary dream." 
 
Skinner chuckled.  "We had a lovely time, Mulder, but we have to be 
going now.  Give my regards to Agent Scully when she wakes up."  
He slid off the bed. 
 
A faint moan came from under the rolled up sheets.  "Where am I?" 
asked Scully's voice. 
 
Sharon patted the lump helpfully.  "At the bottom of the bed, dear.  
Would you like me to make some coffee?" 
 
"Coffee"  Chesterton lifted his head.  "Mmm, I think that's my job."  
He rolled out of bed, leaned over and smacked Mulder's ass lightly.  
"Come on, Spooks, rise and shine." 
 
"I'm having a really, really, really strange and scary dream," Mulder 
said fearfully, still hiding under the pillows.  "I must have had 
anchovies on my pizza last night." 
 
A red tousled head emerged from the sheets, poking out worriedly.  
"What am I doing here?"  She looked at Sharon, blushed scarlet, 
looked at Skinner, blushed even darker.  "Oh, my God, it wasn't a 
dream, it all really happened." 
 
Skinner touched the tip of her nose lightly.  "Mmhmm," he agreed 
cheerfully.  "I think maybe coffee would be a good idea, Sharon.  We 
can get a shower while these folks wake up." 
 
Chesterton patted Scully's butt through the sheet and wandered 
sleepily out into the hall; still smiling, Sharon and Skinner followed. 
 
 
"I'm having a really, really, really, really strange and scary and 
*unlikely* dream."  Saying it didn't make it so, of course, but Mulder 
felt better.  Well, not a whole lot better.  There were places on his 
body he hadn't known could *get* sore that were sore.  "A really, 
really, really--" 
 
"Put a sock in it, Mulder," Scully told him waspishly and knocked the 
pillows away.  "This is all your fault, dammit, you had to go out to 
Verlaine perfumes.   Do you know what kind of penance the priest is 
gonna give me when I go to confession and tell him about this?" 
 
Eeeeew, she was naked.  Completely naked.   
 
And she wasn't a natural redhead.  "Scully, I think I should point out 
that you oughta color *all* your hair if you wanna be known as a 
redhead." 
 
Crack!  Her palm came down on his left buttock, galvanizing him into 
motion--he fell out of bed, tangled up in the bedspread and 
whimpering.  "Ow, ow, ow, Scully, that hurt!" 
 
She looked like an Irish fury, towering over him on the bed.  He 
gulped and scooted backwards, picking up a splinter on the way.  
"This," she told him dangerously, "Is a typical Mulder cluster fuck, I 
do mean CLUSTERFUCK in the most literal sense of the word!!" 
 
He backed further, awed in spite of himself.  Wow, when she cut 
loose, she really cut loose.   
 
He was glad her gun wasn't anywhere near.  At least he hoped it 
wasn't.  "It was X's fault," he whined, "He told me about it."  He let his 
lower lip tremble, hoping for some sign of softening....oh, good, it was 
working, she was simmering down, eyeing him with much less 
malevolence. 
 
"Well," she finally huffed, "At least you managed to fuck him." 
 
He let his lower lip tremble more.  "Not as much as he managed to 
fuck me," he whimpered, "And you told him he could, Scully.  After I 
let Veblein do what he wanted to try and get the cure."   
 
Her expression shifted, revealing discomfort at that.  Ah, he knew 
that was going to have *some* kind of payoff.....and people thought 
*he* was the guilt maven, they didn't know Catholic girls.... 
 
But it shifted again and she regarded him narrowly.  "Did I ask you to 
go there?" she demanded.  "And whose fault was it that Veblein 
croaked before he could give you a cure or an...."  Something moved 
behind her eyes, her expression shifted yet again.  "Mulder, you're 
naked." 
 
He thought about that nervously and wrapped more of the bedspread 
around him.  "So are you, Scully." 
 
A slow smile spread across her face, as bright as sunrise.  "Mulder, 
you're naked and I don't have the slightest desire to do you.  *That's* 
what Veblein meant!  The body reacts to the virus like it reacts to 
*any* infection.  And the symptoms must be uncontrollable sexual 
activity."  Her eyes lit up and she beamed at him. 
 
Oh.  Good.  "I'd rather have the flu," he told her pathetically.  "At 
least it only takes a couple of days to recover and I can sit down 
when it's over." 
 
"Shut up, Mulder, I'm thinking."  Standing up, she paced across the 
room, brows drawn together.  "But it's a very dumb virus, it doesn't 
really replicate, it just stimulates pheromones like mad, which 
stimulate the sexual behaviors, which burn out the virus.  Mulder, I'll 
bet we're loaded with antibodies.  We've got a cure after all!" 
 
He let that digest.  "Oh, good," he sighed and leaned against the wall, 
wobbly with relief.  "It's over then." 
 
Abruptly, she swung on him.  It was definitely PMS.  He'd thought so 
the other day, before all this had started.  "Not yet, it isn't over, you 
jerk, you took me out there!" 
 
"You let him put the stuff on you," he protested as she advanced, 
covering his head with his arms. 
 
She paused, about arm's reach from him, hand still raised.  One bare 
foot tapped on the wooden floor as she considered that.  He watched 
it apprehensively, not daring to look up.    
 
Finally, he had to, the suspense was killing him.  She frowned at him.  
"It's only because you're right about that, Mulder, that I'm not going 
to shoot you again.  Ugh, puh-lease get dressed, I never want to see 
you naked again." 
 
Some indignation roused in his chest at this statement.  "Scully, may 
I point out that this is MY bedroom?  *You* get dressed, I never want 
to see *you* naked again, either."   
 
Or Chester, or Skinner or Sharon Skinner, or--he shuddered--X.   He 
wasn't sure he'd recognize anyone from the elevator, but he damned 
sure didn't want to see them naked again, ever.  EverNeverEverNever 
Ever!  
 
Buddhism was still looking awfully good to him. 
 
They stared at each other for a long time in silence, starting when  
Skinner appeared, damp and fully dressed, carrying two cups of 
coffee.  "Gotta run, Tom's going to come over and help me get some 
work done in the garage."  He winked.  "Mulder, dinner at my house, 
Tuesday night.  Scully, you come on Thursday." 
 
They stared at each other in dismay as Skinner went back down the 
hallway, continued staring as the front door shut and voices faded. 
 
"Sc-u-u-u-l-l-y," Mulder whimpered.  "What am I gonna do?" 
 
She sat down on the edge of the bed suddenly, glaring at him.  "You 
better write out your will, Mulder.  I just decided, I'm gonna kill you 
anyway." 
 
Still wearing the bedspread, he bolted for the livingroom and hid the 
guns before she caught up with him.