From: Pufferdeux 
Date: Sat, 11 Mar 2000 00:01:18 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Riding the Whirlpool (1/1) by Pufferdeux
Source: direct

Title - Riding the Whirlpool (1/1)
Author - Pufferdeux
Feedback - I'd love it, please!   pufferdeux@post.com
Distribution - Anywhere else fine, but please drop me a line to let me
know.
Rating - NC-17
Spoilers - none
Category - SRH
Summary - Scully does laundry.  Mulder helps.  Everybody wins.
Disclaimer - These characters don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing
them from 1013 and Fox.  Suing won't get you much, except difficulty
sleeping at night.

Thanks to my gorgeous, witty and supportive beta, Allison (did I get
that right?).

Warning: pure, mindless fluff (by Puff!).  :)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Riding the Whirlpool
By Pufferdeux


Scully waited for Mulder to gather up his dirty laundry.  When he
finally met her in the living room, he had just a small pile in his
basket.

"Is that all you've got?"  She eyed her own basket loaded to the brim
and tried not to feel embarrassed as she remembered the pile she
didn't bring, which was currently scattered all over her bedroom
floor.  She'd come to Mulder's apartment to borrow his laundry room. 
Her washing machine had up and died in the middle of a load of colors.
Maytag repairmen might be the loneliest people on earth, but she
discovered they sure aren't willing to come calling on a Saturday for
less than sixty bucks an hour.  On top of that, it was a three-day
weekend, and there was no way she could wait until Tuesday to do
laundry.  She was already down to the panties with the stretched-out
elastic.  There wasn't much left to scavenge.

"I'll do the rest later," Mulder replied to her query.  "I'm just
going down to keep you company.  You've got to stay down there or
someone will steal your clothes.  It happens all the time in this
building."

Now she remembered why she'd bought a used washer and dryer when she
first moved to D.C.  There was nothing worse than doing laundry
publicly.

Mulder dug through the hall closet looking for detergent.  "Not that I
don't like having you here, Scully," he mumbled into the closet.  "But
wouldn't it have been easier to go to a laundromat?"

"I hate landromats.  They're so public," she said, repeating what
she'd just been thinking to herself.

Mulder emerged from the depths of his closet, bottle of liquid Tide in
hand.  He laughed at her laundromat aversion and stretched his neck to
sneak a peek in her basket.  "Got something you're trying to hide,
Agent Scully?"

"Of course not!"  She tilted her basket away from his gaze to toy with
him.  "I'm just not particularly fond of flaunting my dirty laundry in
public, so to speak."

"Well, if it's privacy you want, you've got nothing to worry about
here.  The laundry room is always empty on Saturday nights."  He
scooped his keys off the coffee table and picked up his laundry
basket, then added, "From what I hear, I mean.  I don't actually know
from experience, of course."

"Oh right," she teased, "you're out painting the town red every
Saturday night.  No time for laundry."

"Exactly."  He opened the door and held it for her as she balanced her
basket on her hip and walked into the hall.

*****

The basement laundry was nothing spectacular.  The Whirlpool machines
were old, but she was used to that, and the room was small and
airless.  Mulder propped open the door so that there was at least some
circulation.

Scully sorted her clothes into several piles: whites, colors,
delicates, and sheets and towels together so she could add fabric
softener to those.  Mulder studied her neat piles carefully.  She
wasn't stupid.  She had left most of her underwear at home, bringing
only enough to get her through the next couple of days until her own
washer was back in working order.  No point in giving Mulder carte
blanche to know everything about her.  She noticed that the washers
didn't have a delicate cycle, however, so she tossed those items back
into the basket.

"Aren't you going to wash those?" Mulder asked, his expression
curious.

"There's no delicate cycle," Scully explained.  "I'll just do them by
hand."

"Delicate cycle?"  Mulder snorted with laughter.  "There's a delicate
cycle?"

"Yes.  For delicate fabrics.  Washable silks, anything with lace, some
rayon."

Mulder eyed his small pile of laundry.  "I thought there were only
four kinds of fabric," he said with authority.  "T-shirts, sweats,
jeans, socks."  He gave her a wide grin, so she was pretty sure he was
kidding.  Then he took his whole pile and dumped them into one washer.
Scully wondered if maybe being a woman just made laundry more
complicated than it needed to be.

Scully filled three washers, then added detergent to her loads and
Mulder's.  After she plugged in the quarters, Mulder closed the lids
and started the machines.  Scully felt like doing laundry together
this way seemed a little too chummy; they fell easily into their roles
without any discussion at all.  She wasn't used to being a member of a
team in the laundry room.  Even in medical school, she'd always made
trips to the laundromat alone.  In a weird way, she liked the time to
herself.

The water surged into the machines and Scully leaned back against one
of them.  Nothing to do but wait.  Mulder patted down the front of his
sweatpants as if looking for pockets which weren't there.  "I left the
quarters upstairs.  You have enough for the dryers?"

"Nope, I think I've only got two left."

"I guess I'll run up and get them.  Back in a minute."

Mulder slipped out the door and part of her was glad to be left alone.
Now she could check the washers and make sure they were working
properly.  She realized that maybe she was being obsessive, but there
was something uncomfortable about doing her laundry in an unfamiliar
place.  With her machine, she knew exactly how high the clothes could
be piled and still circulate freely.  She turned around and opened the
lid to one of the washers, just to make sure the water came up high
enough to cover all the clothes.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and the agitator kicked on
just as Scully closed the lid.  The machine vibrated against her
belly.  Since it was an old washer, it had a powerful agitation, one
that shook the machine back and forth in a shimmy.  She preferred that
to those new-fangled washers that were so quiet and still.  She liked
to hear and feel her clothes being cleaned.

Scully leaned forward against the washer, enjoying the sensation of
the machine rocking back and forth.  It felt reassuring somehow. 
Actually, it felt very nice, in an odd sort of way.  The washer sort
of vibrated and rocked at the same time, and the motion against her
hips was rather interesting to say the least.  She found herself
pressing just a little harder against the front of the machine,
surprised at how good it felt against her body.  The constant humming
felt right, just perfect, and she could actually feel her body begin
to respond to the movement as the machine bounced against her pelvis. 
Perhaps she should have been embarrassed about the little thrill she
felt, but there didn't seem to be a real reason to be.  She was alone.
Mulder was gone upstairs and, given the slow elevator, it would be a
good five minutes until he got back, probably longer.

She shifted her body over a bit so that the side edge of the machine
fell vertically across her body, resting along her pelvic bone.  If
she spread her legs a little bit, she could feel it right between her
legs.

After a quick look toward the door to make sure no one was around, she
did it, not able to convince herself there was any good reason not to.
The machine seemed to have a certain magic, a certain rhythm.  She was
surprised at how fast the heat rose inside her.  Her quickening pulse
was evidence of what it was doing to her.

She tried an experiment.  She bent her knees a little so that her
pelvis tilted toward the washer, the corner angle fitting perfectly
with her body.  The effect was immediate and intense, and she gasped
at the sensation of the vibrations between her legs.

Scully knew she only had a few more minutes until Mulder returned, and
she knew she should quit now before she lost all common sense, but it
felt so damn incredible.  She pressed forward more, grabbing onto the
side of the machine to stop the urge to climb on top of it.

"Jesus, Scully, what are you doing?"

Scully whirled around to see Mulder standing in the doorway.  Leaning
against the door frame, actually, as if he'd been standing there a
while.  A long while.  It was pretty clear, in any case, he'd been
watching her.  She felt her face burn despite her attempt to convince
her mind that she really wasn't doing anything.

"Nothing."  He didn't look convinced.  "I, um, was just checking the
machines, to see if the water was high enough."  He looked less
convinced.  "That one was wobbling a lot."  She made a half-hearted
attempt to motion to the washer behind her.  "I thought I'd better
just sort of, well, hold it in place?"

Mulder looked at her but she couldn't read the expression on his face.
"I just came back to ask if you wanted me to get you a drink while I
was upstairs.  But, by all means, don't stop on my account.  Keep
going."

Scully stepped away from the machine, the loss of movement leaving her
body buzzing with need.  She reviewed what had just happened.  Nothing
important, she told herself.  Mulder caught her getting off against a
washing machine.  No big deal.  She was a human being.  She had sexual
needs.  This shouldn't be a surprise.

So why was he looking at her like she'd just told him his colors bled
all over his whites?  She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, his
erection poking the thin fabric of his sweatpants, but she tried not
to look.  Unfortunately, it was pretty solid evidence that he wasn't
buying her story.  And he had pretty solid evidence now, as well, of
something she wasn't sure she wanted him to know.

In the end, Scully wasn't really sure what to do to remedy the
situation.  While she was still trying to figure it out, Mulder
shocked her by turning and kicking away the doorstop.  The door fell
shut with a thunk.  He twisted the deadbolt lock, then turned around
to face her again.

"Keep going," he said again, this time his voice was deep and shaky. 
And demanding.  She felt it over every inch of her body, and that
buzzing feeling from before collided with a deep rush of heat between
her legs.

This wasn't one of the many options she had been running through her
head.  She wasn't prepared for the neediness behind his words, for the
heated way he was looking at her.  She suddenly felt her buttocks
pressed against the wobbling washing machine and realized she must
have stepped back.

The rumbling passed through her body, not quite as effectively as
before, but just the way Mulder was watching her pretty much made up
for the fact that she was facing the wrong way.  He was smoldering. 
She never thought she'd use that word in any context even remotely
like this, but he was definitely smoldering.

He took a few steps forward but stopped several feet in front of her. 
His eyes didn't leave hers, bright and wide under the florescent
lights of the laundry room.  She was aware of the room, the lingering
heat from a recent load in the dryer, the perfume-smell of detergent
and dryer sheets.  The thundering of the machines seemed to grow
louder inside her head, their rhythm matching the beat of her heart,
which felt like it was agitating inside her chest.  And it wasn't even
close to being the delicate cycle.

"Turn around," he said, his voice still heavy and deep.  "Like you
were before."

She turned around and faced the machine, pressing against it, relieved
that she didn't have to watch him watching her.  The agitation worked
its magic once again and it was not long before she had maneuvered
herself back to the position she was in earlier.  She was already
primed, her body zinging with each shake of the machine, so it was
almost as if she had no choice in the matter.

Scully was aware of Mulder's eyes boring into her back, then his
movement to the side so he could watch her better, see her face.  She
closed her eyes to keep away the images of herself doing this crazy
thing and concentrated on the sensation that she had found earlier. 
The knowledge she was being watched, however, definitely cranked it up
a notch.

She heard her own breathing quicken, though she wasn't really aware of
feeling it; the airiness echoed in her head against the pounding beat
of the washers.  Her senses were focused on that magic spot between
her legs, now being caressed by a gigantic vibrator, as it were.

Suddenly Scully felt Mulder step up behind her, not being able to hear
him over the noise of the machines.  The heat of his breath puffed
against her ear.  He waited a moment before he finally pressed himself
up against her, and she felt his arousal across her ass.

Mulder's hand came around her and cupped her breast, sending the
thrills chasing faster through her body.  She felt him begin to move
against her, each thrust of his hips pressing her harder against the
pulsating machine.  He removed his hand just long enough to snake his
arm up the front of her shirt, working her bra up over her breasts so
he could squeeze her nipple in time to his thrusts.  His movement
tugged her shirt up, revealing her lower belly.  On the next push from
his hips, her bared skin met up with the cold steel of the washer,
sending a pleasurable shock through her body.

This was too much.  She parted her legs a little further to balance
better and was met full on by the edge of the machine, now settled
flat against the seam of her pants which pressed against her clitoris.
She heard herself moan above the noise of the machines, and Mulder
followed, his breath against her ear in time with the swooshing of the
laundry.

"You do this all the time, Scully?" he whispered close to her so she
could hear him.  "Is this how you do laundry?"

The correct answer to that would have been "no," if she could have
managed to form the word.  Sure, she'd toyed a little with sitting on
the washing machine when it was on spin cycle like she saw in a movie
once, but she'd never gone this far.  Not even close to this far.  And
she'd certainly never done it with a hard cock stroking its way up and
down against her buttocks.  Otherwise, she'd be doing laundry every
goddamn day.

Scully had a moment of panic when the agitation stopped, thinking it
just might kill her.  But it was only the machine draining out the
water before the rinse cycle.  A minute.  She only had to keep this up
for a long minute and then the first spin would start and she couldn't
even begin to imagine where that would take them.

Mulder seemed to understand, for he rocked his hips against her during
the break and caressed her breasts more furiously.  His lips fell
across the back of her neck and over her clothed shoulders.  She was
conscious of his hand running down the side of her thigh, teasing in
circles.  She felt suspended, stuck in this moment with no release, no
way to end the inevitable.

And then, thank the heavens above, the first spin cycle started.  The
change in sensation shot up her spine and out toward her limbs and she
actually shrieked.  The machine wobbled back and forth, slowly at
first, gaining speed and power with each revolution.  The more speed
it picked up, the more powerfully it danced against her.

Then Mulder wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up,
pushing her up to the top edge of the machine so that his cock fit
firmly between her thighs.  While one arm helped balance her atop the
corner of the washer, his other hand grabbed her breast again.  He
thrust between her legs, rubbing just the right way so that the
friction of their clothing purred against her as the machine vibrated
below her.  She grabbed onto the back of the washer to steady herself
as she felt the whirlpool rising up from between her legs out to her
fingertips in shattering spirals.  The orgasm hit her with force and
she bucked against the machine in front of her and Mulder behind her,
feeling trapped in some kind of glorious laundry heaven.

When it was over, her throat was dry from the sounds she must have
made but couldn't hear, and she was slumped over the top of the
machine.  Mulder, still behind her, lifted her even higher, his cock
probing deeper between her thighs.  She felt it stroking, hard and
clothed, and she closed her legs to create more friction for him. 
Above the clamor of the washers, she heard a guttural sound from him
that made her shiver, then felt him lean over onto her as he reached
across her to grab the opposite side of the machine for leverage.

As he picked up the pace, his thrusts came at her wildly, all across
the back of her thighs, between her legs.  She could hear his orgasm
approaching in the way his moans broke over each thrust, even though
she had never heard him before, and she wondered how she could find
that single sound amidst the racket of four spinning washing machines.

He jabbed a few more times, then furiously bucked, his hips grinding
against her ass.  She felt him shudder behind her as he grabbed onto
her waist.  He fell forward on top of her just as the spinning slowed
and the washer began filling with water for the rinse cycle.

Scully's cheek was pressed against the steel lid of the washer, cool
against the heat she felt all over.  Mulder's weight on top of her
felt warm and solid.  She heard the falling water through the lid,
caressing her ear, and felt Mulder nuzzling the back of her neck.  It
all suddenly seemed so absurd.

"Oh my God," she heard Mulder mumble into her back.  Scully squirmed a
bit and he got off of her, placing his arm on her back to help steady
her as she rose to her feet.  She couldn't help but wonder if that was
a that-was-incredible "Oh my God," or a we-just-made-a-huge-mistake
"Oh my God."  Either way, "Oh my God" was a major understatement, she
thought.

She turned to face him and they looked at each other.  Both still
fully dressed, both totally flushed, both of them embarrassed.  The
sound of water filling the laundry tubs mingled with the swooshing in
her head.  She felt like she wasn't herself.

Mulder smiled at her shyly and shifted on his feet.  "Um . . ."  He
had nothing to say.

She didn't have any ideas to help him out.  They stood there longer. 
Then she remembered that she wanted to add softener to her linens. 
Common sense kicked in and, from a lack any alternative, she stepped
forward to reach for the Downy which was on the table behind Mulder. 
He raised his arms in an awkward movement, and just as she reached the
bottle, she realized that he thought she was coming to embrace him. 
He was preparing to take her in his arms.

Maybe he was going to kiss her.  After what they had just done, it
seemed like a kiss would be in order.  But instead of Mulder in her
arms, she had Downy, and he was now just standing there looking
confused.

She didn't know what else to do but complete what she had started. 
She turned back toward the machines and unscrewed the lid on the Downy
bottle.  She concentrated on filling the cap up to the line instead of
on what Mulder was thinking, or even what she was thinking, but she
could only pour fabric softener for so long.

By the time she turned back around, he seemed to have regained his
wits and was looking at her in a semi-normal way.  "Um, I guess I
should go upstairs and change," he mumbled, motioning to the wet spot
across the front of his sweatpants.  "Can I bring you anything?"

Okay, so they were just going to pretend like this never happened. 
She suddenly felt incredibly foolish.  She ran her hands through her
hair in an attempt to look less disheveled.  "Um, no, I'm fine.  I'll
just stay here and keep an eye on the laundry."

Mulder nodded.  "I'll get the quarters while I'm up there."

She nodded back at him.  "Yeah, okay."  She wanted to pound her head
against the washing machine.  Why was this so awkward?  It shouldn't
be that difficult to find something to say after a sexual encounter. 
Then again, the regular rules don't quite apply to laundry room
trysts.  How about a little post-coital tumble in the dryers?

What had they been thinking?  Long years of restraint and then they
went at it like a couple of teenagers dry-humping in the back of a
car.  So much for all those fantasies of a nice romantic evening,
followed by slow, exploratory love-making.  No, they just got each
other off while they did laundry.  Two birds with one stone.  They had
always been efficient that way.

Mulder moved toward the door, unlocked it, but then surprised her by
walking back toward the middle of the room.

"Scully?"  He stood away from her, but his eyes reached out, asking
some question she couldn't quite interpret.

"I'm fine, Mulder."  He looked at her darkly, then shook his head.

"No. . ."  He stepped forward and she must have also because suddenly
he was standing so close to her.  She couldn't stop herself from
looking up at him to see what was in his eyes.

She saw his plan just before he acted on it, his hand coming up to
cradle her face and his lips falling onto hers.  He kissed her gently
but for long moments, his tongue meeting hers briefly just before he
pulled away to look at her once more.  Her body buzzed again, filling
with heat so suddenly it shocked her.  Maybe this hadn't been a
mistake after all.  She leaned forward blindly and he wrapped his arms
around her and pulled her tightly against him.  She was acutely aware
of his body against hers--the way it leaned into her shoulders,
breasts, belly, hips.  It was a new feeling, different from what had
just happened, to have him against her this way.

He rocked her back and forth gently, almost as if they were slow
dancing.  When he finally released her, he took her hand in his and
kissed her again.  "I'll just run upstairs and change, okay?"  He
stretched his arm out as he stepped back, holding onto her hand as
long as he could.

After Mulder left the room, the thoughts whirled through her head,
nothing coherent to anchor her.  She watched the machines wobble
through their final spin, the recollection of what that meant bringing
heat to her face and a small spark racing through her veins.  The
scene replayed itself in her mind, every feeling, every touch, every
hard stroke against her.

She turned when she heard the laundry room door open, not sure what
she was going to say to him, but needing to say something to break
what was sure to be awkward silence.

Mulder had an armful of towels.  He smiled at her across the pile. 
"You up for another load?"

END 1/1


No washing machines were harmed in the making of this fic.  Send me
some of your dirty laundry:
pufferdeux@post.com

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