Title: Fury and Fantasy
Author: Lovesfox
E-mail: lovesfox@rogers.com
Website: www.geocities.com/fanficcorner
Rating: NC-17
Category: MSR, PWP, Smut
Keywords: MSR
Spoilers: None
Summary: Scully comes over to Mulder's place spoiling
for a fight, smut ensues.
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and The Lone Gunmen do not
belong to me, they belong to Chris Carter
and 1013 Productions. I mean them no harm.
Thanks: As always, to my beta extraordinaire, Nancy
*****
Fury and Fantasy
by Lovesfox
Mulder's Apartment
10:05 PM
The three sharp raps on his door startled Mulder, though
he had been more than halfway expecting them for some
time now, and he was unable to contain the instinctive
flinch. Grimacing, he lurched from his seat on the couch
and headed for the door, preparing to face her wrath.
For it was undeniably Scully at his door.
Before he had even lifted his hand to unlatch the lock,
he heard the scrape of metal as she most likely jabbed
the key into the hole with lethal intent. No doubt
wishing it were his midsection she was jabbing her fist
into as she did so. The lock clicked and the door was
flung open, missing him by inches only because he had
wisely taken a step back.
He had time to register only a few impressions -- the
scowl on her face that by no means detracted from her
classic beauty, the air of aggression in her demeanor,
and the rush of wind as she brushed past him. Swallowing
his unspoken greeting, he shut the door, slightly
surprised she hadn't slammed it, and turned to face her.
She stood in the middle of his living room floor with her
hands on her hips, a living, breathing model of righteous
indignation and fury.
Mulder tried a smile, and as he had expected, it was not
returned. If anything, her scowl grew more intense.
Delaying the inevitable, he offered her a drink.
At that, she looked ready to spit nails. Or perhaps
ready to lay out an ass-chewing was a more appropriate
descriptor. Namely *his* ass. On certain other occasions,
that had been a rather pleasant experience, what with
Scully's self-admitted fascination with said ass. He
managed to hide his smile of memory under the guise of
rubbing his hand across his mouth.
Her growled response would have done the crustiest sailor
proud. Though he wasn't sure if her suggestion was
anatomically possible.
"Scully," he aimed for a tone that was a cross between
placating and assertive.
She wasn't having any of it. "Where the hell were you?"
she asked, storming forward to poke him in the chest
with one stiffened finger. "We had agreed to go for
one hour, remember?"
He remembered quite clearly, now, after the fact. Had
fully intended to meet her and the rest of the task
force at Casey's for the celebratory dinner and drinks,
as he and Scully had promised Skinner they would.
But the Gunmen's discussion on their latest government
conspiracy theory had gotten intense, with Langly hotly
defending his position and Frohike and Byers equally
adamant on their own stance. He had been pulled into
the argument, semi-reluctantly, he'd readily admit, and
time had gotten away on him.
Once he'd realized he was beyond late, he'd immediately
tried to reach Scully on her cell. She had not answered
any of his calls, and he'd gotten the hint that she was
not impressed. He'd headed home to his apartment, knowing
Scully would find him when she was good and ready.
It was apparent that time was now.
"Well--" he started.
"One hour, Mulder," she cut him off, her voice dangerously
low. It was actually more frightening than when she
yelled. She poked him again. "One hour. That's all
Skinner asked for. *And* what you agreed on."
A tiny flash of shame flickered, but he stifled it, for
he was getting annoyed by the dent she was attempting to
carve into his chest. Taking one step back, he gave her
a warning look, lifting his hand to cover her target. "I
forgot, Scully."
"You stood me up," she stated flatly, arms now tightly
folded across her chest. She paused, dramatically it
seemed, and then added, "You ditched me, Mulder."
Despite the fact he fully recognized that she had every
right to be angry with him, his back went up at hearing
the word 'ditch'. "I did not ditch you," he gritted out.
He took a deep breath and released it, forcing himself to
relax, and added in a hopefully calmer tone, "I got caught
up at the Gunmen's, and I forgot."
The repeated excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears.
Even if it was the truth.
Skepticism poured off her in waves. "I come back to the
office after dropping off our final report on the Martinson
case," she told him, "and find a note from you on my laptop,
which says, and I quote, "Had to go to the Gunmen's. Will
meet you at Casey's." Her eyebrow arched. "I was gone
twenty minutes, Mulder. *Twenty* minutes. You couldn't
have waited for me to get back?"
Mulder winced inwardly. He *could* have waited, it just
hadn't occurred to him to do so. Not that he would tell
her that; he wasn't entirely clueless. "Scully," he
sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. Turning from
her, he walked a few steps away, rotated his head from
side to side and turned to face her once more. "It wasn't
intentional. I thought I'd only be a half-hour tops."
She either ignored his comment about it not being
intentional, or was too caught up to hear it, for she did
not acknowledge the words had been spoken. "The only
reason I agreed to go in the first place was because we
were going together, Mulder." Her voice rose slightly as
she continued, "The least you could have done was call me.
Did you forget my cell number too?" The sarcasm rolled
off her tongue with ease.
He gritted his teeth to hold back a curse. And the urge
to remind her that she had ignored all his calls. Instead
he made another mistake, which was to call her behavior
into question. "Scully, you're being irrational."
"What did you say?" she hissed, clearly incensed.
The look she shot him would have felled a lesser man, but
he'd had previous experience, although he was loathe to
admit it. She took an aggressive step towards him, and
suddenly he was seeing her with different eyes.
"Jesus, Scully, you're..." He stopped, at a complete and
utter loss for words.
"I'm what?" she snapped, brows drawing down mutinously.
Color flared along her cheekbones, flushed her neck and
the deep vee of her cleavage.
He blinked, stupefied. His voice was unintentionally
hushed as he continued, having found those lost words,
"You're incredibly, amazingly beautiful." He made the
statement honestly, with no hidden intent.
It was her turn to blink, her mouth gaping open for a
moment before the angry expression on her face bled away
to one that was somewhere between incredulity and wonder.
"Damn it, Mulder," she said, though it was without heat.
"What?" he asked, surprised and a little wounded.
Her lashes were suddenly sooty with tears, and she sounded
both perplexed and humbled. "How can I be angry with you
when you say something like that to me?"
She took the few steps necessary to bring their bodies
mere millimeters apart. Her hands lifted, hovered in the
air briefly and then she was wrapping her arms around him
tightly, her forehead dropping to his chest. She sniffled,
followed it up with a half-laugh/half-sob, and exclaimed,
"And I was on a roll, damn it!"
Relieved and amused, he laughed as well, bringing his own
arms up to cradle her against him. The feel of her body
served to compound the brief thrill he always experienced
whenever she swore.
Call him perverse -- he found such times sexy. As much
so as when her full, luscious lips formed a pout when
she didn't get her way. Hell, he even found it endearing
when she whined.
He had it bad. He was a goner for her, plain and simple.
A goner who was rapidly becoming aroused.
Scully turned her head to the side and nuzzled his chest,
her fingers kneading his back. She also pressed her belly
into his burgeoning erection, making a humming noise deep
in her throat.
That showed promise. "Scully," he murmured, wondering if
he was about to blow that promise, but forging ahead
anyway. Carpe diem. "Does this mean we can skip the
fighting part and get right to the makeup sex?"
He felt her laughter as it bubbled up from inside her,
her body shaking in his arms. He couldn't help but grin,
his arms loosening as he shared her mirth.
Thus he was not prepared when her right foot hooked
around his left ankle and she shoved with her hip. He
landed flat on his back with a grunt, Scully riding him
down. Pinning him with knees and hands, her flushed face
hovering inches above his. Though they both knew that if
he applied his greater strength he could eventually
reverse the situation.
Her eyes were twinkling, and her voice husky when she
announced, "I want to be on top."
Oh, baby. The pain from his fall was gone, the thrill
that coursed through him heady. Still, he couldn't resist
a comeback, one eyebrow arching in a credible impersonation
of the woman now eyeing him with what appeared to be
ravenous intent. "You *are* on top, Scully."
"Mulder." That was all she said, in a semi-frustrated,
semi-amused tone. Then she tore his shirt open.
The fine cotton ripped effortlessly, buttons flying
everywhere, pinging and skittering across the floor.
"Scully!" he gasped in utter shock, the sound somewhat
high-pitched.
And gasped again -- although some might argue it was more
of a squeak than a gasp -- when her mouth closed around
his left nipple. He'd swear on his genuine piece of moon
rock that she chuckled, but then forgot all about it when
her teeth scraped his sensitive flesh.
When his belt buckle clunked against the floor, Mulder
realized two things. One was that he'd apparently lost
time yet again, for Scully had managed to unbelt,
unbutton and unzip his pants without him being aware of
it, and the other was that he didn't care about the lost
time, as long as she kept on doing what she was doing.
Which she did, although she added an evil twist. Her
fingernails were now glancing along his ribs. Pure,
unadulterated torture. As she well knew.
He wiggled, he squirmed. He cursed and he pleaded, in
between fits of laughter and gasps for air. But Scully
was relentless. And she seemed to have more appendages
than an octopus.
But finally he found a chink in her seemingly impenetrable
armor. Her vulnerable, extremely ticklish midriff was
open to attack, her blouse having come untucked during
their tussling. He had to wait for the right moment,
feigning further weakness.
She fell for it, of course.
Gotcha, he thought. His hands moved in and found their
target. Search and destroy. Or in this case, tickle and
seduce.
When she flinched, he seized the opportunity and flipped
her over onto her back, quickly straddling her upper
thighs and grabbing her flailing arms to bring them down
to her sides. After a moment's struggle, he pinned her
hands under his knees, which hugged her ribs. Panting,
he grinned at her.
"Looks like I'm on top now, Scully."
Muttering something that he couldn't quite make out and
assumed was most likely unflattering to his masculinity,
she tried to buck him off. But the move was ineffectual
with him situated as he was. Though not by much, for
Scully had a surprising strength, and he had to hide the
fact that it took effort to hold her still by widening
his grin.
Sweeping his gaze over her heaving breasts, his attention
was caught by her navel, winking sexily at him through a
gape in her blouse. He circled it once with just the tip
of his right index finger, ever-so-lightly, enjoying the
way her stomach quivered from his touch, and then grabbed
the tails of her blouse in each hand.
"I hope this isn't your favorite blouse, Scully," he
murmured mischievously as he held her gaze, "because you
know what they say about turnabout being fair play."
He watched as her eyes went wide and her mouth opened on
a protest. Which immediately turned into a gasp because
he was already tugging. Her blouse ripped as easily as
his shirt had, and the tiny, pearlized buttons made a
similar music dancing across his hardwood floor.
Scully craned her neck to stare at her now exposed flesh
and then glared up at him. On her face, shock and
disbelief warred with a smidgen of anger. And arousal,
he definitely saw arousal. "You bas--"
Mulder swooped down and covered her mouth with his.
He'd had to release her in order to do so, and at first
she was not an overly active participant in the kiss. In
fact, she had begun to swat half-heartedly at whatever
body part she could reach -- ribs, chest, it didn't seem
to matter.
Then with a muffled moan, she became wild, returning his
kiss with fervor, sucking on his tongue. Her hands turned
eager, greedy, and she started working on removing his
torn shirt. She yanked it roughly down his arms, where it
gathered at his wrists because his hands were planted on
either side of her head. She gave up, deciding instead
to tease his nipples with her fingernails.
The rest of the shirt was a tight constriction across his
back, hampering his movements. Breaking the kiss, he rose
up on his knees, breathing heavily and harshly, and fumbled
at the buttons of his shirt cuffs.
Scully's hands were not idle during his task. For she was
doing a fine job of trying to drive him insane by running
her palms up and down his thighs, dipping into his opened
fly with each pass.
He'd only managed to free one of his wrists when on her
next pass she traced the length of his cock through the
cotton of his briefs. His breath stuttered in his lungs
and his hips thrust forward, trying to follow the teasing
touch.
She waited until he had caught his breath -- barely -- and
he had resumed working on the other cuff to touch him again.
This time he lost his balance, and fell to one side, landing
on his ass, with his left leg still across her thighs.
With a cocky smirk, she made her move. Pulling her legs
free of his, she rolled smoothly to her knees and reached
out to grab his left foot. His shoe was jerked off and
tossed over her shoulder, hitting the floor with a thud
even as she was pulling his right shoe off. While he was
still working on the one button that was all that kept his
shirt on.
Before the second shoe hit the ground she was tugging on
his pant legs. Quite aggressively, in fact. So after she
had tossed his pants aside, he did the same with his finally
uncuffed shirt, and then he lay back and let her do her
thing.
His socks were discarded as quickly as his pants had been,
and then she was crawling along his supine form. The
graceful movements of her body, the intense and intent look
on her face, gave her the appearance of a feline stalking
her prey.
And he was that prey. Willing prey, however. Very, very
willing.
At some point she'd also removed her shoes, pantyhose and
skirt, though he hadn't been aware of this as it had
occurred. His senses had been otherwise engaged. All she
wore now was her panties and bra, and the torn-open blouse.
A fantastically sexy look for her.
Mulder couldn't help but stare at her shadowy cleavage,
emphasized by her position and enhanced by satin. Her low
chuckle distracted him, and then her amused voice said,
"Like what you see, Mulder?"
"More than I can express," he replied, finally meeting her
gaze.
Which flicked to his proud erection, generously tenting
his boxer/briefs. "Oh, you're expressing it quite well,"
she returned, her smoky voice an octave lower than usual.
"Just you wait," he told her with his own cocky smirk as
she brought her hands to the waistband of his only
remaining garment, now supporting herself on her knees.
His abs quivered when she traced the index finger of her
right hand along the elasticized band, and his voice was
shaky as a result, "I'll get...even more expressive."
"Of that, I have no doubt, Mulder," she purred, dipping
that same finger beneath the band. Raising one eyebrow,
she teased, "I believe."
His snort of acknowledgment and appreciation at her sense
of humor turned into a husky approximation of her name.
For her left hand had trailed slowly along his length to
join her right at his waistband.
Once there, she slipped her fingers beneath the material
and began edging the briefs off, staring into his eyes
for a moment before looking downward. She eased them over
his erection, murmuring a clearly pleased "Mmmmm" when it
was fully revealed.
A moment of awkwardness arose when she had to shift about
in order to remove the briefs completely, and they both
snickered at her somewhat ungraceful movements. But it
was done, and he was completely nude at last. It was as
she was sliding her leg across his to regain her position
on top that Mulder rose up on one elbow and snaked his
other hand up her thigh to snap the leg of her satin
panties.
She twitched in surprise, uttering a low, "Ouch."
"Off," was all he said, without apology, and together they
wrestled the garment away.
They somehow ended up on their sides facing each other, her
right leg slung high over his hip and her right arm around
his neck, fingers clutching at his hair. His right arm was
beneath her shoulders, and he stroked the knuckles of his
left hand along her stomach and breastbone, on his way to
her bra.
He flicked it open one-handed, easily, and nudged the satin
aside, fingers stroking the curve of her breast, lightly
cupping it. His thumb swept over her hard nipple and she
gasped, simultaneously thrusting her chest forward, pushing
her breast more firmly into his hand, and grinding her hips
into his.
He thrust forward, into the contact, and she gasped again,
her fingers tightening their hold on his hair and her lower
body surging against him anew.
"In me," she muttered, her mouth at his shoulder. "In me,
now."
His heart thumped wildly as his hand fumbled at his cock,
attempting to position himself, slipping partially inside.
"You're ready?" he asked, somewhat stupidly, for there was
no doubt of that.
"God, Mulder, I've been ready ever since I brought you
down to the floor and ripped your shirt off," she exclaimed,
and then nipped the tendon between his neck and shoulder.
She was moving against him, tiny motions that signaled her
impatience, her need. "Fuck me already."
Hearing that -- *knowing that* -- further enflamed Mulder.
Tacit and rather explicit permission -- she did not need
hearts and flowers, or a tender touch, right now. Sliding
his hand under to cup her thigh, he lifted her leg up higher
and thrust his hips, burying himself deep inside.
After a few seconds for them both to adjust, he began a
quick but steady pace. His momentum pushed Scully onto her
back, and he followed without breaking stride, planting his
elbows on the floor, caging her head. Scully lifted her
legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking her ankles
above his ass. Deepening the angle of penetration,
intensifying the sensation.
Her right hand had remained curled in his hair, and her
left now clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his
skin with an erotic sting of pain. She lifted her head
up and nipped his chin, following the little bite with
a rough swipe of her tongue. "Harder," was her command.
He groaned with heightened pleasure, and complied.
Eyes flickering closed, Scully made an inarticulate sound.
Her back arched, and she clenched on and around him, lost
in her climax.
Several frantic, choppy thrusts later, Mulder followed her
with his own release, head thrown back and mouth open.
Finally he collapsed atop her. After a few moments to
recuperate, he shifted most of his weight off of her and
pillowed his head on her breast.
Scully's hand returned to his hair and she began playing
with it, idly curling strands around her finger. Her
breathing had slowed, and she was comfortably still beneath
him. Every so often she let out a pleased sigh.
Once his own breathing was under control and he felt he
could speak, Mulder murmured, "You know, I've had fantasies
like this, Scully."
Her hum sounded like one of agreement, and he lifted his
head to look at her in surprise, a tiny thrill chasing
through him. "You've fantasized about this?"
"About having a fight with you and then tearing your clothes
off and doing you on the floor?" she returned, voice soft
and level. Conversational. At his nod, her next response
was a throaty, "Oh, yes."
Blinking rapidly, he intoned, "I just got very turned on."
She laughed softly and patted his back, seemingly in no
hurry to get up from the floor. Nor did she appear to take
his statement as one of fact, though he thought it quite
possible with the news she had just imparted that it
wouldn't take much to get him ready to go again. Smiling
to himself, he settled upon her breast once more.
A comfortable silence reigned for many moments, and then
another thought occurred to Mulder. He lifted his head
once again and studied the relaxed lines of her face, the
peaceful, blissful expression she wore. "Scully...you
didn't really come here to fight, did you?"
A mysterious smile was her only answer.
***
THE END
feedback appreciated at lovesfox@rogers.com
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/kim_djd
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