Hello! While this isn't the first piece of fanfic I've ever written, it's the first piece of XF fic I've gotten the courage to post... :) I really really want to know what y'all think!! Oh, btw, this entire thing should be blamed on watching WOTC tonight..... I just.... HAD to.... ;-) Basically a little SMUT biscuit folks.... Title: 1-900-REDHEAD Author: Trixie (scullymulder1121@hotmail.com) Classification: MSR/dash of Humor Rating: NC-17 Archive: Anywhere as long as my name & email stay attached. Summary: Scully's lonely until she gets a *very* 'uplifting' (ba dum bum) call from Mulder. . . Praise will be carefully treasured & flames will be maniacally returned :) Oh oh - before I forget - I don't own them. *Them* being Mulder & Scully, not the *other* *Them* who I doubt anyone would want to claim ownership to. You can prove I'm not the true owner of Mulder & Scully real easy too - just look at the fun I let them have here - you think God aka CC would let them do that? Well... maybe.... Sorry, I went away to my little happy place for a minute there... I'm back now :) Enjoy! And please don't try to sue me for this.... Fox... CC... Lawyer type persons.. I have $5 & a snickers bar to my name.... 'sides.... I'd get off on the insanity defense easy... I've got at least a dozen character witnesses..... heh heh heh "1-900-REDHEAD" By Trixie Scully tossed her suitcase to the floor and threw herself on the small motel room bed, exhausted. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was curl into a little ball. Of course it would be nice if Mulder was there to curl up with her... Shutting off that train of thought, deciding it was counter productive, she forced her tired body up and walked quickly to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged feeling revitalized. Walking to the bed wearing only a towel she sat, using a second to dry her hair. She closed her eyes, her hands stilling in her hair remembering another time not so very long ago. Mulder's hands in her hair, gently drying section by section. `God,' she thought, `I'd kill to have his hands on me right now...' No sooner did she think it, her cell phone rang. She feels around her jacket lying on the bed for a moment, finally producing the phone from her upper left hand breast pocket. "Scully," she answers crisply. "Hey, sorry, wrong number, I was trying to reach `1-900-REDHEAD,'" a familiar voice intoned from the other line. A small smile tugged at Scully's lips. "You've reached 1-900-REDHEAD - but if we answered the phone like that we could have those annoying FBI types checking us out," Scully replied, her voice totally serious. There was dead silence from the other end of the line for a moment. Then, "I guess I shouldn't tell you what I do for a living then," he begins with caution. A full force grin spreads across Scully's face. `Oh goody,' she thought, `Mulder wants to play.' "Why shouldn't you tell me?" A deep intake of breath. "Because it might scare you off," he answers finally. Scully contains a laugh. "Believe me Handsome," a snicker is held in against all costs, "I've heard of a thousand different professions, and I've yet to be scared off." Her brows crinkle for a moment. "Except that mime - that was a terrifying experience." She hears his bark of laughter across the line and it makes her smile, knowing she can bring him joy. "I can imagine. If you don't mind, I'll take a pass at the profession." "Okay, no profession. What are you wearing, Handsome?" Her voice emerges husky, truly wanting to know what he was wearing so she could complete the mental picture in her mind. "A pair of jeans, first two buttons undone, Red." His voice sounds fairly amused and she suspected it had to do largely with the fact that he'd just gotten away with calling her `Red.' Scully bites her lip, the mental picture of him on his black couch in nothing but jeans slung low on his lean hips sending pleasant shivers up and down her spine. "I bet you look really sexy in those jeans," she murmurs. She can feel his smile from the other end. "Red, what are you wearing?" he asks, his voice like velvet. Scully closes her eyes. "Just a towel," she replies in what she knew he thought of as her `little girl' voice. She hears an audible swallow from the other end of the line and she imagines his Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat. "Just a towel?" he asks in a curious and slightly gravely voice. "Just a towel," she answers in an almost monotone voice. "I just got out of the shower. My hair's all wet. So's the rest of me, for that matter," she finishes matter of factly. "You're gonna give me ideas, Red," he whispers into the phone. "You're gonna make me think things no gentleman has a right to think about a lady," he informs her raggedly. Scully smiles and lays back on the bed, her head on a soft pillow, the phone resting in the crook in her neck. "This lady gives you her permission to entertain any and all thoughts of a carnivorous nature providing those thoughts are reserved solely for herself." A rusty chuckle resounds from the phone. "If that means I can think whatever I want as long as it's about you, you got it Red. Only you." Scully smiles. "You make me feel so special, Handsome. I'd love for you to share some of those thoughts with me." "Would you now? Well I'm afraid the thoughts wouldn't be nearly as. . . . informative as they could be if I could actually show you what I mean," he concludes softly. Scully lets out a throaty chuckle. "What if I acted as your hands?" She felt Mulder cock an eyebrow. "You'd do whatever I told you to?" he asked, interest in his voice evident. Scully rolls her head against the pillow slowly, her eyes closing. "Anything you want," she whispered, her other hand already beginning to trace idle circles around the top of the towel just above her breasts. "All right Red," he murmurs. "First let's start by removing the towel." Smiling, Scully brings her hand to where the towel was being held together and undoes it. She moves the fabric aside, goosebumps instantly rising on her damp body. "Done," she murmurs. "Now close your eyes," he whispers. "Why?" Scully asks. "Because," he begins slowly, "you're going to pretend I'm there. That it's my hands on your body, my breath against your skin. You need to rely on your sense of touch, not your sense of sight." Scully's eyes flutter shut. "Done," she repeats. "Now I want you to run your index finger from the indent in your throat, down between your breasts, to your stomach then back again. Slowly," he instructs softly. Scully does as she's told, the light pressure of her hand causing delightful shivers to run up and down her spine. "Now," Mulder continues, "run a hand down your side, circling your palm against your hips. Rub down the front of your thigh, gently, down to the knee and back again. Repeat the move a couple times." Scully does so, the sound of his voice combined with the light touches against her skin causing a slow arousal to permeate the air. "Run your hand along the inside of your thigh, up and down, from crotch to knee and back again. Slowly, lightly, make sure the touch is whisper soft. Like my voice," he whispers to her. A small growling sounds emerges from the back of her throat. "Harder," she murmurs, so lost in the fantasy that it wasn't registering that she had the power to touch herself however she saw fit. But she didn't. Not really. It was Mulder's game, Mulder's play. "Touch yourself Scully. Cup yourself, let your fingers dip inside for a moment, then dance through your curls." Mulder's voice had taken on a husky gritty tone that did incredible things for Scully's state of mind. She could smell herself and, if she tried hard enough, could smell Mulder too. Her hands did what his voice told her to. "Take your thumb and flick your clit Scully. Gently, once then move down further." "Mmm," a small little moan emerged from her lips as her actions mimicked his words. "Lessen the pressure of your fingers, slow it down so you can barely feel the touch on you," Mulder instructs in a soft sure voice. "Now, move your thumb back to your clit, dancing over it softer still." She does as he asks, breathy little puffs of air being expelled into the phone. "Stroke your middle finger inside yourself Scully, bury it as far as it'll go, still moving your thumb lightly over your clit." She does so. Beads of sweat break out on her forehead, her still wet hair plastering itself to her face. "Stroke yourself, in and out. Move a little harder, a little faster. It's me Scully," he whispers, using her name for the first time. "It's my hand, moving inside you. My thumb increases the pressure on your clit. Harder. Faster. Around and around, circling and touching. I index finger joins my middle finger, stroking you, pushing inside you. Can you feel my breath on your thighs Scully?" he asks in a throaty voice. "Mulder," she murmurs, eyes closed, fingers working furiously at her lower body. "Mulder, yes, Mulder," her voice is barely a breath into the phone. Each word is punctuated by a small moan. "Harder Scully," he murmurs. "My fingers move faster, my palm cupping you as my thumb rubs harder around your clit, my fingers thrusting into you, fast and furious. God Scully I wanna be inside you so badly. I want you to wrap your legs around my hips, holding me to you. I want to pound into you. I want to make you scream, Scully. I love it when you scream." "Mulder," Scully moans as she feels her inner muscles contracting around her fingers. Scully feels stars explode behind her eyes, her only conscious thought that of Mulder's voice murmuring soothing things in her ear. Scully's eyes slowly flutter open and she's a little disappointed to remember Mulder isn't actually in the room with her. She reaches over and brings the phone more closely to her ear. "Mulder?" she asks, her voice sounding huskier then before. "I'm here Scully," his voice was rough and his breathing sounded harsh. "God I wish that were true," Scully sighed into the phone. "Scully did you unlock the adjoining door to your room?" Mulder asked in a conversational tone. Scully's eyes narrow slightly. "No," she answers slowly. "The only time I ever have it open is when you're sleeping in the next room. . ." her voice trails off. "Mulder?" "Why don't you open it and find out?" Scully rolls off the bed and stands on wobbly legs. She hurries to the door and flings it open, coming face to face with Mulder, both their cell phones still pressed to their ears. "Mulder?" she whispers, almost afraid to trust her eyes she wants him there so badly. "I knew you'd have to stay the night here after having to teach so late at Quantico," he begins, still speaking into the phone, his eyes connected with hers. "And since we were together that first night. Well," he smiles sheepishly, reminding her strikingly of a little boy at that moment. Odd considering this particular `little boy' was indeed wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, hung low on his hips, his beautiful torso so tantalizingly close and a very noticeable bulge in the front of said jeans. `Dana, he's speaking, you should probably try to focus on the words.' "Haven't spent a single night apart since, and I figured, why not just hop on a plane and spend the night with the woman of my dreams," he finishes softly. "So. . . Happy to see me?" he asks hopefully. Scully smiles slightly, a predatory smile and begins slowly walking toward him, a lock of wet hair falling across her left eye. She slowly lowers her own cell phone, hitting `end' and tossing it to the floor. She grabs his and repeats the action. She places her hands against his chest and pushes him, walking them to the bed in his room. She shoves him down there and crawls up his body, his jeans scraping against her, causing a hiss of pleasure to escape from her lips. "Happy?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. "My Dear Mr. Mulder," she says a laugh in her voice, " `happy doesn't begin to cover it." A slow smile spreads across Mulder's face. He brings his hands up to hers, placing them palm to palm, threading their fingers together. "So tell me Red," he begins, a twinkle in his eyes, "what's the plan for the evening?" "Well Handsome," Scully answers him, matching his good humor, "I seem to recall your saying something about making me scream," she murmurs a moment before her lips touched his softly. "I think that's doable," he breathed against her lips. And it was. The End