The Tea (1/1) NC-17
Pigletta's Mama
Judy
Moonrock66
Author: Georgia
Email: Moonr...@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Tooms, Arcadia
Summary: Those who don't learn from the past are doomed to
repeat it.
Author's Notes: This works equally well as a stand alone or as a
sequel to my story The Robe. So you don't have to read that one
first. But thanks to the wonderfully generous Kimberly, it's here if
you're interested
http://members.xoom.com/hiddengem/therobe.txt
Thanks to Marie for letting me bounce my life as well as this story
off of her. And to Adriana, for encouraging me when that was
supposed to be my job. This one's Requiem safe, dear.
---------------------------------
Scully climbed slowly into the car, clutching some photos and a
paper sack, fighting against the wind to keep her overcoat inside
before slamming the door. Mulder glanced over at her from the
driver's seat, his eyes murky with that late hour stake out glaze.
Scully smiled to herself, pulling the photos from the envelope. She
knew how to wake him up.
"I found something," she said confidently, proud of herself.
"What?" he turned, taking the photos from her, holding them up
into a bright pocket from the moonlight.
"The skeleton matches a 1933 missing persons photo."
His reaction was not what she expected. He was totally
unimpressed. Cool.
"It's not enough. It doesn't tie it to Tooms," he said flatly, handing
the photos back to her, turning away.
"Well it's a start," she assured him. A start.
She moved to stretch out her legs, to get comfortable. But two
day's worth of coffee cups and fast food bags crunched at her feet.
"Mulder it's getting a bit ripe in here, don't you think?"
He reached over to the glove compartment, brushing her knee as he
went. The contact was brief, but the effect was not lost on her. A
shiver raced down her spine as his knuckles slid against the texture
of her pantyhose.
"Pine scented," he advertised, holding up the tree shaped freshener
for her approval.
A completely thrilled "oooh" and a raised eyebrow was all she
managed as he swung the freshener under her nose. But her eyes
followed the tree to the rear view mirror and watched as Mulder
dangled it there, her gaze flickering ever so briefly to his face,
lighting momentarily, then hurrying back to the tree before Mulder
turned away.
He began to rattle on about Tooms, the Phillies, Ba Ba Booey,
remembering at some point to ask for his sandwich.
"It's liverwurst," she warned, pulling the sandwich from her bag.
His hand crept over hers as he took the sandwich, fake smile on his
face like he thought she was kidding. But he bit into it anyway,
Scully pulling her hand away from his a little too fast. She covered
with a well meaning nag.
"Mulder you know that proper surveillance requires two pairs of
agents. One pair relieving the other after twelve hours."
"Article 30 paragraph 8.7," came his flippant tone, mid-chew.
But she was serious. She would not look away.
"Mulder, this isn't about doing it by the book. This is about you not
having slept for three days. Mulder, you're gonna get sloppy and
you're going to get hurt. It's inevitable at this point."
Still chewing, unconcerned, "A request for other agents to stake
out Tooms would be denied. To them we have no grounds."
Her hand crept over the center armrest onto his knee.
"Well then I'll stay here. You go home."
The tremor through his leg was obvious. Still his voice came clear
and unwavering as he stared blankly out the window, his mind
seeming miles away.
"They're out to put an end to the X-Files, Scully. I don't know why,
but any excuse will do. Now I don't really care about my record,
but you'd be in trouble just sitting in this car."
He paused for a moment, then turned intently to her, eyes scouring
her face. Her hand still rested lightly on his knee.
"And I'd hate to see you carry an official reprimand in your career
file because of me."
Her hand fell away from his knee, his meaning obvious. Mulder
looked down, assuming they were done. Her voice went through
him like a static charge.
"Fox..."
His laugh was too uncomfortable to be as casual as he intended.
"I even made my parents call me Mulder," he said shaking his head.
"So...Mulder," he murmured turning back to the window.
The little shock he felt before became a rippling jolt.
"Fox," she repeated almost defiantly, in a low near whisper.
His head snapped around to meet her gaze, angry, wondering if he
was being mocked.
"I don't like that," he stuttered. "I told you..."
"Fox," her voice came sweeter, louder this time as her hand circled
back onto his knee. "I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone
but you."
"Scully," he said shaking his head, trying to convince her. But her
hand continued to circle, now in deeper, gripping strokes. He
looked around like he was trying to avoid the moment, trying to
think of some way out. But the warmth of her hand soaked into his
knee, sending his pulse from erratic into a hard, pounding throb that
rushed through his ears. His eyes locked on hers, unflinching, until
his sandwich was tossed carelessly on the dashboard, his hand
reaching over to drag her face to his.
Their lips met roughly, the only sound her quick gasp for air before
his mouth closed over hers.
The intensity was more than they expected, unstoppable, as again
and again his lips crushed hers, tugging, sucking, marking a claim.
A fight against reason at first, soon their mouths moved of their
own free will, untethered, cut loose from their shocked bodies,
from their dissenting minds.
"Oh God," he managed in a quick breath, pushing the damp twists
of hair from her face
"Shh," she whispered against his bottom lip.
As her lips slipped back around the softness of his lower mouth, her
hand climbed quickly off his knee, assaulting Mulder's rational mind
from every direction. Overload came when her hand settled in his
lap, Mulder's groan beginning in surprise, finishing with a whimper.
"Sc-u-lly," came the word with choked effort.
"F-o-x," she breathed, teasing him, drawing out the syllables against
his ear.
His hands came up in defense. Part of him had no idea why he was
fighting her, some other part just sure that he should.
"Scully," this time almost resolute, a warning, he attempted to push
her away.
She would not be moved.
"Fox," she tried one more time, leaning back for his ear, taking the
lobe into her mouth.
As she must have predicted, the fifth time was the charm. Mulder
never did anything by the book.
Under her tongue, Mulder's head flew back against the headrest, his
ear slipping from Scully's grasp. When her mouth found his neck,
all resistance was gone.
His arms pulled her against him, caressing as gently as he was
capable down her back, smoothing over her hips, onto the hose
covered flesh of her thighs. Her lips continued to dance over his
neck, over the skin under his open collar. His hands found their way
inside her coat, under her hem, cupping her soft curves, her skirt
sliding up politely out of his way.
The thud of her shoes hitting the floor surprised him. He met her
eyes expecting there to be some doubt, some visible nerves. But
they had never been more still, more certain. He might even say
they changed colors to demanding when her hands shoved her coat
off her shoulders, then fell to her own waist, working against the
wadded up skirt to find the waistband of her pantyhose.
As she began to roll them down, his hands stilled hers, his fingers
melting down between her smaller ones. He caught the brief grin on
her face, then watched as her eyes closed, his hands brushing under
her pantyhose and down her legs, pulling the nylon with him.
Mulder tried to be slow, seductive, tried to tease her skin without
tickling. He used his whole hand, fingers spread wide, fingertips
trailing lightly, palms warm and firm. Scully sat perfectly still, eyes
closed, but every shaky breath she tried to suppress was noted.
When he reached her ankles, she leaned down to impatiently pull
the hose from her feet, tossing them to the floor beside her shoes
and coat. Mulder wanted to work his magic on her feet, had
intended on having her in the palm of his hand. He knew about that
little g-spot on the bottom of the foot. But Scully had other ideas.
His hands fell abruptly to his side as Scully pushed him back against
the seat, her full weight coming to rest in his lap as she straddled
him.
For some reason Mulder chose this moment to remember where
they were.
"Tooms..." he half grunted.
"Um hum," was her only reply. Her lips sealed his mouth, her hips
grinding into him, attempting to lure him into silence. It worked for
about twenty seconds. Long enough for him to catch his breath and
for his hand to find its way between them.
She gasped as his fingers circled less than gently over the heated
silk of her panties.
His grin was a little smug.
"I like your interpretation of Article 30. Paragraph 8.7."
"Mulder," came her voice, deeper than usual, Mulder you're pissing
me off tone unmistakable.
"What happened to Fox?" he kidded, fingers drifting beneath the
silk.
Scully's head dipped back, the steering wheel giving her little room
to maneuver. Under a heavy hazel gaze, his touches continued,
stroking, burning, soft sighs falling from her lips until she could
stand no more.
Her hands came down shaky, but determined on his, prying herself
off his lap. Before Mulder could doubt her intentions, Scully tugged
the silk from her waist, her underwear falling to her knees as she
knelt on the car seat. With a quick lift of each knee, she reached
behind and pushed the last barrier to the floor.
The amusement in Mulder's eyes didn't last long. He knew he was a
lucky man. But in less time than it took for his brain to register it,
Scully had unzipped his pants and had him in her hands.
The sudden swallow that racked his chest changed the temperature
in the car, the humidity of fogged windows turning into a dripping,
hard to breath sauna.
"Jesus Christ," he spit through gritted teeth, the soft but unraveling
strokes of her hands sending him too far too fast. "God, would it
have been this good then?"
She stopped abruptly, looking up to meet him with tender eyes. Her
head cocked in an unspoken question, his hand coming up once
again to brush the tendrils from her face.
"No," she said simply, brushing a kiss just aside his mouth and
easing back into his lap.
He seemed to nod in agreement, almost convinced. Their gaze
burned a moment longer until his arms pushed under her legs,
raising her into the air, off his lap, her hands supporting her body
against his shoulder.
"Why not?" he challenged, lowering her back into position, one
hand coming down to guide himself inside her.
"Auh," was her initial reply. "Because," she finally got out, sinking
into his lap, her body absorbing streams of pleasure. "We didn't
know each other then," she said hips lifting, barely pausing against
the need to fall again.
"We certainly didn't know each other like this," he smirked, until
she clenched around him in response.
His breath came out in a hot blast against her chest. "No fair,
Scully," he finally recovered, not missing the effect his warm breath
was having on her body.
The force of his torso surprised Scully, both of them barely noticing
the blaring horn as Mulder pressed her into the steering wheel. His
mouth fell to her neck, Scully's hands stroking softly into his hair,
moving her body ever so slightly to silence the honking noise.
"Say it?" he almost questioned, mouth sinking to cover her breast
through the thin layers of her shirt and bra.
"Fox," she sighed, feeling the tremor go through him.
She shifted her hips, unable to get much leverage, his deep chested
grunt, telling her he was losing it. Somehow he managed to work
his fingers between them, stroking lightly, knowing what it would
take, how she liked it, despite his own desperation.
She arched against him. "Mulder, let me. That's what you wanted,"
she reminded him, shivering as he took his hand away, relenting,
leaning back in the seat. Slowly, Scully moved against him, starting
a torturous rhythm, rocking into him, sending his face into her
shoulder, his mouth opening against the tendons in her neck.
The car went out of focus then, becoming a blur, as she rose,
sinking faster, rising as slowly as she could manage, to slam back
into him again.
The grip on her hips tightened, Scully recognizing the signs of his
coming release. Her own snuck up on her, the tense position of her
legs masking the fast racing sensation. One last thrust was all it
took.
Scully cried out some almost intelligible word that seemed to start
like Mulder and end like Fox.
"Mu...Fox," she panted, her muscles and voice more than enough to
send Mulder's body racing. Her own name crashed against her ear,
his body tensing, his breath almost catching in his throat.
For a few sweet minutes, they stayed wrapped together, letting
their bodies revel in the moment, dancing together in another world
as they quietly stilled in this one.
Soon aching back muscles couldn't be ignored any longer, and she
slid off him, pulling her skirt down, curling into his side.
"What else you got in that bag?" he teased, wrapping her in his
arms.
She reached for the bag at her feet without a word, pulling out a
single can which she studied for a long moment.
"Root beer," she finally announced, eyes flickering up to meet his.
Mulder looked at her puzzled, his mind running over the past
conversation, eyes swimming with a sad confusion, telling her he
didn't get it. Then finally a spark.
"Fate?"
One corner of her mouth turned up, as she answered with a nod,
"Then it was just root beer, Mulder. The iced tea came later."
He kissed her gently, words of love and gratefulness passing
between them.
"I'm glad we got both," he whispered as she settled back against his
chest.
"Me too...Fox," she couldn't resist.
"The next fantasy's yours," he prompted, pulling her coat off the
floor to cover them.
She stared out the windshield, the night around them dark, the
moonlit, country road silent. Her breathy laugh finally broke
through the stillness.
"Got something in mind?" he asked with a smile.
"Nothing worthy of your video collection."
"Try me," he assured her, his hands drifting softly through her hair.
"Rob and Laura Petrie," she kind of mumbled, attempting to turn
away. But he grabbed her shoulders, the smile on his face electric.
"I knew you wanted to play house," he shook his head, amused
with her.
The quick grin that stole across Scully's face was up to the
challenge.
"Mulder, what you didn't know," she paused turning the keys in the
ignition, "is that the mask I was wearing, it's edible."
end.
-------------------
DBKate
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Boys-school films are like girls-in-prison movies: they live for slash."
~*~*~*~*~*~
the slash of dbkate
http://www.geocities.com/dbkate/index.html