Title: Play Ball! Authors: Foxie Meg and Lovesfox Rating: Oh...um...damn. Strong R? Naaaaaahhhhhhh...NC-17. Summary: Just a little smutfic (BTW, do you see a disclaimer on this fic? I didn't think so. Cos Mulder and Scully told us they don't want to belong to Chris anymore) Play Ball! by Foxie Meg and Lovesfox Mulder stopped just outside his apartment door after unlocking it, studying the brass "42" as if it held the meaning of the universe. Actually, he wasn't really noticing it; it was just a convenient place to fix his gaze while he concentrated on the noises coming from inside. "YES! Oh YES!! Sink it in, baby! Right there!" He hadn't remembered leaving one of his videos on...in fact, he was pretty sure he hadn't had the television on at all! He paused, keys in hand, and then reached behind him to his holster. Damn it! He'd left it in the apartment when he went to take his rent check to the office, since he had fifteen minutes left before it was officially "late". Cautiously, he bent down to pull his backup out of his ankle holster, holding it firmly in both hands as he kicked open the door and stepped inside, crouched slightly, gun held unwaveringly at eye level. "NO! You idiot!! How could you be so stupid?? Come on, come on... you've got better ball control than that! What were you thinking? I'm more open than he was!" Two things occurred to him simultaneously: One, that the television was on and that the raucous sounds of a basketball game were emanat- ing from the speakers. Two, that the person yelling out the uninten- tionally obscene instructions was his partner, sitting on his couch, wearing...well, pretty much nothing. Two tiny scraps of royal blue silk that he felt he could safely identify as Victoria's Secret. He stood up straight, gun drooping by his side. "Scully?" Scully held up a hand, silencing him. "Hold on a second," she com- manded breathlessly. "The Knicks are just about to score." He wondered if she had any idea what a turn-on her enthusiasm for his favorite basketball team was to him. "YES!! SCORE!" He grinned, unstrapping his ankle holster and laying it and the gun aside. He waited until a commercial came on, then called again to the woman on his couch. "Hey Scully, could we focus on me for a second here?" "Hm? Oh hi!" she smiled, not moving to get up from her curled-up position on the couch. "How did you get in here?" "Key?" she said, sounding somewhat puzzled, and leaned forward to scoop her set of keys off the coffee table. She dangled them from her fingers before tossing them back onto the table. "Oh." Right. They had each other's keys, had for a long time now. Where were his brains? He grinned. "I forgot you have that. But why are you here at- " he checked his watch - "Eleven fifty-eight PM?" "I missed the Knicks game today, and knew you'd taped it," she smiled at him. He momentarily felt a little jealous of the basketball game, until she added flippantly, "Besides, I was hoping we might play a lit- tle...ball game...of our own." He looked at her in a bit of surprise, as her tone of voice had car- ried none of the suggestiveness of her words. She seemed intently focused on the television, but gave him a mischievous glance out of the corner of her eye. She relented, giving him a dazzling smile and holding out a hand, and he grinned, coming closer to the couch. "Got any tequila?" she asked. When he raised an eyebrow questioningly, she clarified with, "Shiver shots." "What about the game?" he wanted to know, gesturing towards the tele- vision. She considered, tilting her head to the side. "I propose a new game. Every time the Knicks score, you take another shot." "And if the other team scores?" "Well...in that unlikely event, I suggest..." she paused, thinking hard. "I get to take a body shot." His grin spread all the way across his face. "Sounds like a win-win situation to me." "Mmmmm," she purred. "For both of us." She then gave him the once- over, but far more slowly, starting as his Reebok-clad feet, linger- ing teasingly at his groin, and ending with her eyes on his. "I think you're a little over-dressed though," she said finally. Mulder watched avidly as she lifted one hand and idly traced one strap of her bra with a crimson colored fingernail, trailing it down along the swell of one breast. Seconds later he had toed of his run- ning shoes, peeled off his socks and whipped his gray Henley over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Scully laughed softly at his haste. "Not that I don't appreciate your...expediency, but the show might have been a little more enter- taining if you had taken your time." "Oh, I'll make *up* for it, don't worry," Mulder smirked back, and waggled his eyebrows at her. He brought his fingers to the top button of his Levi's, seeing the anticipation in her eyes. He popped it open and then went to the next button, where he paused. "Oh wait," he said, and pulling his fingers away from his fly, mimicked her ges- ture, scratching at the smattering of hairs revealed by the open but- ton. "I forgot the tequila." With that, he turned and headed into his small kitchen, just catching her muttered, "Spoilsport." Once there, he found the bottle of tequila Scully must have brought with her, despite her question as to whether he had any, and a couple limes, already sliced on a plate. He smiled to himself, thinking about how she was always prepared. Of course, she was well aware of how bare his kitchen usually was. Whistling, he quickly retrieved two shot glasses and his saltshaker, surprisingly not empty. He managed to carry everything back into the other room without mis- hap, putting them down on his coffee table, which Scully had thought- fully pushed further out from the couch. During his brief absence, she had also spread a blanket on the floor, and was leaning back against a pillow she had propped against the couch. Her bare legs were stretched out in front of her and she was once again engrossed in the game. "Hey!" he said indignantly. "You didn't pause it?" "Don't worry," she answered, "there was a time-out. You didn't miss anything." "Still," he said with a mixture of affront and slyness. "I think that constitutes a penalty of some sort." She glanced at him through the fan of her lashes, sucking her lower lip in her mouth and tilting her head to the side as she seemed to ponder the validity of his complaint. "Well..." she drawled. "I guess you have a point there." She smiled. "Okay, how about penalties also result in either a body or a shiver shot?" "Works for me," Mulder grinned, and sat down on the blanket beside her. He handed her a shot glass, and while she sat up and arranged it between her breasts, he opened the bottle of Tequila. "Tilt your head back and rest it on the couch," he told her. The position he had indicated offered her neck up to him, the tendons standing out in temptation. He poured the Tequila carefully into the shot glass, filling it to almost the top. Scully held very still, watching him with flirtatious interest. Returning the bottle to the table, he picked up the salt shaker and leaned in close to her. He pursed his lips and blew gently on the skin he was about to lick, and although Scully made a giggling noise, she did not move. Slowly, he stuck out his tongue and, using just the tip, teased her lightly for a moment before lathing the area with the whole flat of his tongue. Another giggle, but she held steadfast. He then shook salt on the damp spot and lathed it again, making sure to breathe heavily through his nose. The combination of cool wetness and hot air worked. Scully shivered, her shoulder coming up as she tucked her head down, to try and escape the teasing torment, jostling the shot glass slightly. A tiny bit of the Tequila spilled, and soaked the material of her bra. With a quick grin, Mulder shifted slightly and leaned in. He added a variation, by first nibbling along the upper swell of her breast and licking the spilt Tequila before using precise movements to fit his mouth over the shot glass, drawing it out slowly. Scully shivered again and her nipples were now poking at the silk of her bra as he tossed his head back to allow the Tequila to slide down his throat, his hands never touching the shot glass until the liquid was gone. He slammed it down on the table and grabbed a section of lime, sucking at the fruit, the two tastes exploding in his mouth. "Nicely done," Scully commented. "But it seems the other team has scored." She waggled her eyebrows at him. "Lucky me." Huskily, Mulder rejoined, "I think that's lucky me." "Perhaps," she murmured, and indicated she wanted him to lie flat on his back. "Your bra's all wet," he reminded her. "Maybe you should take it off." Scully looked down and thrust her chest forward, her nipples hard and pointing. "Oh, so it is," she remarked, feigning surprise. "You're right, I should take it off." A quick flick of her fingers at the front clasp and seconds later it had joined his Henley somewhere in the corner of the living room. "Lie down, please." Mulder complied, slightly tense with anticipation. He was still wear- ing his jeans, which were just the slightest bit snugger than they'd been a moment before, she seemed to have forgotten her earlier com- ment about too many clothes, but his entire upper body was bare. He also recalled that Scully could be quite creative with the locations of her shots. She studied him for a moment, before shaking her head slightly. "On your stomach, please." Oooooh. Now this could be good. Mulder rolled over quickly, settling onto his stomach, his groin pressing firmly into the blanket-covered floor. Seconds later, Scully was straddling him, her rear end sitting on his, and her bare legs touching on either side of his waist. Her skin was warm and silky soft. He wiggled slightly, feeling a stirring in his groin, and the motion caused his jeans to rub pleasantly against his slowly hardening flesh. She leaned forward, more than was necessary he knew, to reach for the Tequila and saltshaker. The points of her nipples dragged along his back, and she hissed with the sensation. His groin tightened further, and he moaned softly. Scully straightened and then scooted back a little, so that she was now sitting on his upper thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath her. She was breathing a little heavily, from their nearness, and from the sound he had made, and her panties were damp. She wished she had gotten him to take his jeans off before he had lain down, for then only the thin barrier of silk would be between her and him. Oh well, she'd rectify that after this body shot. Mulder felt her fingers, feather-light, on his waist and then his back, curled around his jeans. She tugged at the waistband so that they drooped a little, revealing the small of his back. He grinned widely, although she could not see him, as he was facing the TV. It was because he knew where she was going to take her body shot and that spot was particularly sensitive, and because the Knicks had just scored. Seconds later he felt the moist heat of her tongue, licking at that spot. He sucked in a breath and managed not to squirm, although it was a close one. Scully giggled against his skin, the reverberations sending little darts of pleasure up his spine, and then he felt the sprinkles of salt followed by her tongue again, and immediately after that, the slightly cooler Tequila pooling in the shallow indentation of his lower back. Scully lifted her weight off of him, and put her hands on his inner thighs, very close to the junction where they met, and pushed slightly. He obeyed the physical command, and spread his legs apart. Once he had, Scully moved until she was lying between them, her breasts resting on his ass, and her hands lightly touching his sides. He tensed in anticipation, but she drew out the moment by gliding her fingers up and down his ribs. He was ticklish, and she knew it. "Witch!" he said, and scrunched his eyes shut as he held every muscle tight in an effort not to move and spill the Tequila. Not that it would be a bad thing, he thought. Scully could lick it up, and she wouldn't mind having to re-do her shot. She dived then, and her mouth was open and hot on his skin, sucking and licking the Tequila up. He moaned again. Scully was thorough, she made sure every last drop of Tequila was gone before rising off of him to grab a piece of lime. Mulder could hear the sounds of her sucking at the fruit, erotically loud, and imagined her lips on his cock, doing the same. His cock surged at the thought, and it was time for the jeans to go. He rolled over and got to his feet, looking down admiringly at Scully sprawled nearly naked at his feet, traces of lime and tequila on her lips. He yanked at the rest of the buttons of his fly and tugged his jeans down and off, kicking them aside. He left his boxer-briefs on. For now. His erection tented the material impressively. "The Knicks just scored, so I guess it's my turn now," he husked. "But I've decided I like body shots better than shiver shots, as de- lightful as they are." Scully crooked an eyebrow at him, and then smiled. She flicked a glance at his groin and licked her lips before replying. "Where would you like me?" she purred seductively. A variety of suggestions were on his tongue, but Mulder held back, only grinning at her. "Where you are is fine, only lie back," he told her. She complied, and he got down on his knees, reaching for the Tequila bottle and saltshaker. He put them on the floor, near her head, and then lowered himself until he was reclining along the length of her body, on her right, resting on his left side. He let his arm brush across her breasts, teasing her nipples, as he reached for the salt, and Scully shivered in reaction. He smiled and bent to lick at her collarbone. She shivered again, and once more when he gathered up all the salt he had shook over the spot. He poured the Tequila carefully, in the hollow just beneath the bone, placed the bottle aside, and pursing his lips, sucked the alcohol from her skin. As he lifted his head from her skin, he caught a glimpse of the TV. It seemed he'd have to take another body shot. Darn those Knicks, he thought, and grinned wolfishly at Scully. "Knicks scored," he said. She echoed his sentiment. "Drats," she said with mock dismay. She then quirked her eyebrow in an unspoken query as to where he wanted her. "I'm comfortable here," he told her, and dived for her stomach. He circled his tongue around her belly button, feeling the muscles there jump, and then trailed down just millimeters above the edge of her silk panties, lathing the spot enthusiastically. The salt was next, quickly licked, and then he poured the Tequila. It soaked into her panties, as he had intended, and after several long moments licking up every droplet he could fine, he lifted his head to see her watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Oops," he mur- mured. "Now your panties are all wet." "They were wet before you poured Tequila on them," she returned a little breathily, and shifted her legs restlessly. Desire flared hotter, and he thought he would rip through the materi- al of his boxer-briefs. His hips thrust forward in reaction, nudging his erection into her thigh. Scully answered his move by pressing her leg more firmly against his hardness, drawing a moan from him. "I should take them off," she said huskily. Mulder nodded enthusiastically. "You definitely should, and I think I should take mine off too." He generously rolled himself off of her so that they both could do so. His were shoved down in seconds and discarded over his shoulder, al- most before she had lifted her hands to her waistband. As he watched her lift her hips and shimmy the silky panties down her legs, he told her, "I think I'm tired of this game." By the way Scully's eyes dilated as she looked up at him, Mulder knew she had picked up on his meaning. "Do you have another game in mind?" Her voice was coy and seductive at the same time. "Mm-hmmm," he answered, winking at her. "I like to call it 'make the kitten purr'." Scully burst out laughing, which triggered the laughter he had been holding in. His euphemism for sex stemmed from a long ago evening where they had drank themselves silly while watching and dissecting one of his pornos, and sat there coming up with as many different ex- pressions to describe the act of sex as they could. He had remembered how that particular one had driven her to fits of almost hysterical laughter. And he also remembered how after she had calmed down, they had set about making that kitten purr in a mutually satisfying and thoroughly pleasurable way. Scully's laughter had died down, and she was staring at him through half-lowered lids. "I think if you stroked the kitty, she might purr," she said throatily. His penis throbbed at her words, and he was delighted with her teas- ing innuendo. "Might?" he mock-gasped. "How you impugn my prowess!" It was time to demonstrate that prowess. He first knelt between her spread legs and then maneuvered until he was lying flat on his stomach, his chin resting on her pubic bone, millimeters from her thatch of curls. He peered up at her, still propped on her elbows, her half-lowered lids giving her a sleepy, sensual look as she watched him carefully. "Does the kitty like tongue baths?" he murmured, and briefly nuzzled her mound with his nose. "Mmmm-hmmmm," Scully murmured, and twitched slightly beneath him. Mulder grinned at her and then started said 'tongue bath'. Only the term wasn't exactly an accurate moniker, for he used more than his tongue - lips, teeth, tongue, nose, even his stubbled cheeks - as he set about pleasuring the woman beneath him. Mulder had always enjoyed making love to a woman this way. Loved the sounds and gasps his actions elicited. Loved the taste and the scent of arousal that soon permeated the air. Loved the movements of thrusting hips and restless legs that were a testimony to his enthu- siasm, and to be honest, his rather considerable skills. Or so he had been told on many occasions. So he nibbled, he lathed, he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses direct- ly on her center. Scully's hands were soon in his hair; sometimes gripping it tightly and pushing his head harder against her body, other times just clenching and unclenching the soft strands as her hips danced beneath his extremely talented mouth. Her motions became more agitated, frantic, as did the sounds she made. She was thrusting steadily against his mouth, her hands tightly fisted in the hair above each of his ears. Mulder sped up his tongue, diving and stabbing with purpose. "Mul...der, I'm...close. Want...you with me," Scully gasped. She tug- ged on his hair, her thighs clamping on his head to stop him. "Please," she mewled. "I want you...inside me." How could he resist the sensual pleading in her voice? With one last kiss on her curls, he slid up along her body. After a pause to worship both breasts, paying particular attention to her hard nipples, and accompanied by her hitching breaths and sighs, he nibbled and licked his way to her waiting lips. Once there, he en- gaged her in a deep, wet kiss just as the head of his cock nudged firmly at her center, looking for entry. It was granted. Scully tilted her hips up, wrapping her legs around his thighs, and he slid home, deep inside. Mulder groaned as his cock was enveloped by her hot wetness, gritting his teeth to stop himself from thrusting like a madman. His arms were straining with the effort of holding his weight off of her, his hands planted on either side of her head. Scully, who had sucked in her breath and arched her back when he finally entered her, smiled up at him, her hands coming up to cup the cheeks of his ass, squeezing and stroking. "You won't hurt me," she said, and used her hands to pull him down onto her, moaning at both the full body contact, and how the position caused his cock to surge even deeper. She used her fingernails to lightly scratch his ass, and he twitched at the sensation, unintentionally thrusting into her again. They both moaned this time, and her legs tightened around him, her heels dig- ging into the backs of his legs. "Make me purr, Mulder," she whisper- ed into his ear, before taking his earlobe between her teeth and bit- ing down gently. At the same time, she flexed her inner muscles, gripping his cock like a tight, hot, velvet glove. "Ohhhh..." The sound was a combi- nation of a sigh and a moan, and it was all he could manage as waves of intense pleasure crashed through his body. He began to move with slow, steady strokes, adding a little circling motion of his hips at the end of each thrust, and Scully responded by lifting her pelvis in the same rhythm, her hands still squeezing his ass. She unwound her legs from his and planted her feet firmly on the floor beside his hips, her knees drawn up and out. This put her in a stronger position to meet his thrusts, and intensified the contact between their two bodies. Mulder brought his left elbow down to the floor and leaned on it, which allowed him to slide his right hand under her ass, and use it to tilt her hips up. His actions had dislodged her hands from his body, and her arms now lay outstretched on the floor, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, clutching the folds of the blanket they lay upon. It also caused his pubic bone to bump into her clit with every thrust now, and she began to grind herself against him, her breaths panting in his ear, interspersed with little gasps that were an approximation of his name. Mulder could feel her hot, wet walls squeezing his shaft, and that familiar tingle building at the base of his spine. He began to thrust harder and faster, and slid his hand out from underneath her so that he could prop himself up once more, for better leverage. Scully took the opportunity to bring her hands up, her deft fingers teasing his flat, rock-hard nipples for a moment before gliding them down along his ribs and around to clutch at his ass again, loving the feel of the muscles flexing beneath her touch. She could not stop from making tiny "ah-ah" sounds with each of his thrusts, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow, lost in the exquisite feelings he was stirring within her body. She could feel the flutters now, deep inside, that signaled the approach of her orgasm, and pushed up- wards even harder to meet his thrusts, desperate for fulfillment. Their bodies slapped together noisily, and their skin was slick with sweat. Mulder's forehead dropped to rest on her shoulder, and she could feel his hot breath against her skin. She knew her own breath was equally hot, washing over his neck and back as he twisted and moved against her, with her. "Oh, God, Mulder! Harder!" she gasped, and her hands moved restless- ly from his ass to his back and down again, sliding over his slippery skin. The flutters were pulsing waves now, crashing and rolling through her, and she screwed her eyes shut, her mouth opening wide in a ric- tus of pleasure as she rode the waves. "Uhhhh...Scuh-leeee..." Mulder groaned back. He had felt her orgasm approaching, and now felt the exquisite sensation of her walls spasm- ing around his cock, milking it, accelerating his own release. He be- gan to pump furiously, throwing his head back with another deep groan, his neck arching. His balls were drawn so tight he thought they'd explode, and his hips were like pistons. Finally his cock erupted, and he shouted his pleasure to the world and the woman beneath him. His thrusts became jerky, and less con- trolled, and then stopped completely as he slumped into her body, breathing harshly. Scully's hands soothed his back in slow up and down strokes, as her insides still pulsed with faint aftershocks. She lifted her head and placed a kiss on his damp shoulder. "God, that was fantastic." She let her head flop back down, and then said, "When's the next game?" Mulder groaned theatrically, his body shaking with suppressed laugh- ter. "Woman, you'd kill me at this pace," he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze. "But I'd sure as hell die happy." "Mmmmm," was all she said. "Me too." With a little grin, he flipped them until he was on his back and she was cuddled against his side. He stretched his arm and snagged one end of the blanket, pulling it up to cover their lower bodies. Scully traced tiny circles on his belly for a moment, but her eyes were sliding shut, tiredness catching up on her, and she let her hand stop and rest on his warm skin. She relaxed even more as one of his large hands began stroking up and down her arm. "Mmmm, Scully," he mumbled, and she smiled against the skin of his throat as she felt more than heard his voice rumbling in his chest. "Yeah?" she asked drowsily, wrinkling her nose as his chest hairs tickled it gently. "We should really move to the bed. I'm too old to sleep on the floor." Scully laughed softly, touching his shoulder, loving the silky-smooth way his satin skin stretched across the rippling muscle. "You'll never be old, Mulder." She yawned, her jaw popping loudly in the relative silence of the apartment. He hummed, tangling a hand in her hair. "When's the next Knicks game?" he slurred, obviously fighting against post-coital uncon- sciousness. "'Morrow night," she answered, slurring just as badly. "Hm." He sighed, shifting briefly, and she wondered if he'd fallen asleep when he spoke again. "You think you'll be up for a little pre- game activity?" She snorted, kissing the closest patch of skin. "That all depends on whether or not you are, dear," she teased. He yawned, and she snuggled closer into him, feeling security and contentment wash over her. "I think I can manage," he murmured, and Scully hummed in lazy agree- ment as sleep overtook them both. *** THE END
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