TITLE: Stripped (Snooping IV)
AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer
EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net
ARCHIVE: Anywhere okay with these headers attached.
CLASSIFICATION: SR
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance, Smut
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: none
SUMMARY: Part IV of the Snooping series. Mulder and Scully
take snooping to a new level. ;)
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox. No
infringement intended.
NOTE: This is the last story in a series composed of "Snooping,"
"Sleuthing," and "Scrimmage" all of which are available at
Ephemeral or my web page:
http://www.oocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442
This is intended to be part of the series, but if you're in it just for
the smut (not that there's anything wrong with that), you can
probably understand enough of this to get the gist.
THANKS to the readers on whom I foisted this story in its rough
stages so that they could reassure me it was okay--Sue, Kristen,
Alanna, and Sharon. More thanks to Sue for pretty much making
the whole thing work, to Kristen for suggesting many of the ideas,
to Alanna for her ability to spot smut logistics problems, and to
Sharon for general smut inspiration.
________
Stripped
by Susanne Barringer
I have no idea what possessed me on this particular night to decide
to toy with Mulder's desire for me. Six years together and a
thousand innuendoes tossed my way and I chose tonight to follow
through. I don't know what it is, just something about the idea of
him nosing through my things while I wasn't there, touching my
belongings, stroking my lingerie--it all turns me on.
Okay, not at first. At first I was absolutely livid. Yes, that's
hypocritical because I had few qualms at all about making myself at
home in his closet, drawers, and bathroom. All I know is, I came
home and saw the closet door open and hit the roof. The watering
can he left behind didn't help matters any. It was just sitting there in
a place where he wouldn't have left it under any naturally occurring
circumstance, tucked away in the corner next to my bookshelf.
There isn't a plant within eight feet of that spot, no reason at all for
him to be over there unless he was looking at things he shouldn't.
I rejected my first impulse, however, to call him up and ream him a
new asshole. No, he needed to suffer. He needed that guilt to
fester for a little while, agonize over the knowledge that he had left
behind clues, stress out over the idea that I might or might not have
figured it out. By then I was so angry that I totally forgot that I
had done the exact same thing to him. That seemed so different
anyway, so far away from *him* going through *my* stuff, that I
don't think I even made the connection.
Then, at some point during our confrontation in my bedroom, it all
became erotic. We were standing there, facing off, and I
unintentionally let my own guilt slip. Something about that
moment, about the two of us both willing to cross the line in order
to find out more about each other, told me everything I needed to
know, everything I had wondered about, regarding what Mulder
and I really mean to each other.
So, I said that thing about having a green teddy just like the black
one he'd found, and Mulder freaked and took off. I guess it was
stupid of me, but I honestly am shocked that he reacted quite that
way, although part of me suspects that he's still standing outside the
door trying to decide what to do. I confused the poor man, but
he'll be back. I think.
I don't even want to contemplate what it says about our relationship
that we have to snoop through each other's belongings in order to
feel like we really know each other. That is pathetic. But, when I
went through Mulder's things and found that he kept all my notes,
that he had photos of me stashed away like treasure, that he had
bought massage oil with me in mind, well, I did know something
then that I hadn't before. Which is exactly what brought us to this
moment.
As if on cue, there's a pounding at the door. I take a deep breath
and realize this is it. He wouldn't come back unless he'd worked it
all out in his mind, and my impulsive decision to take a chance is
about to pay off.
"Hi," I say, trying to be clear that it's okay that he came back.
More than okay judging by my heart pounding and the dizziness I'm
battling.
He clears his throat and looks at me intensely. "I'd like to see the
green one." His voice is controlled, strong, and he sounds a
hundred times more confident than he did before, which only serves
to send desire soaring through my body. Dear God, it really is
going to happen.
As it turns out, I'm already wearing the green one, the green teddy.
I don't know why, exactly. There's no way I could have predicted
that my intention to totally fry Mulder for his lack of respect for my
privacy was going to end up this way, but I wore the green one
anyway. Sometimes having something like that on is good for the
attitude. Cosmo would approve, I think, of the lingerie I wear
under my power suits.
Mulder stands and waits, a look of panic suddenly crossing his face,
and I realize while I'm standing here assessing my wardrobe choice,
he's thinking I'm about to slam the door in his face.
"I'm wearing it," I say quickly and the change I see in his expression
drives the breath right out of me. He grabs me by the upper arms,
pushing me backwards into the apartment. Then, without taking his
eyes or hands off me, he kicks the door shut behind us.
I do believe I have created a monster.
His lips are on mine so fast that by the time I register that part, his
hands are already grabbing my ass and pulling me toward him. He
keeps pushing me backwards until my calves slam up against the
coffee table and I hear magazines fall to the floor. Part of me wants
to stop and pick them up, no matter how crazy that sounds, but
then Mulder has pulled away and he's looking at me in a way I have
never seen before and I think I'm about to detonate.
As Mulder kisses me again, his hands wander over places I never
thought they'd be. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck
and press myself against him so that I can feel him and I do my own
wandering over the landscape of his lips, tongue, teeth. The
magazines are forgotten until he steps on one, which slides across
the carpet, sending him sprawling onto the sofa, then to the floor.
He drags me with him and I end up on top of him. One of his legs
is still resting at an awkward angle across the sofa and the other is
pinned under the coffee table which is now lying on its side.
He bursts out laughing, the shaking of it full in his chest which I feel
against my breasts, against the lacy fabric of the green one. "Geez,
Scully, your apartment is a mess," he says with a smile, attempting
to untangle himself from the clutter.
"Are you okay?" I ask, as he rubs the back of his head, his face a
grimace of pain. I have a momentary flash of Mulder getting
knocked out or breaking his leg before we get to the good part.
Somehow that would seem entirely appropriate to our relationship.
"Yeah, I just knocked my head on the table," he says. I bend down
to plant a light kiss on his lips, and he reaches up to pull my head
down, pressing up hard against my mouth. His tongue strokes
against mine and I run my fingers through his hair and my mind
drifts off to places unknown and uncharted. I am settled across his
hips and as he struggles to get his leg free from under the coffee
table I feel the hardness of his erection move against my thigh and I
wonder how we've ended up like this so quickly after six years of
pretending we never would.
We're crammed between the sofa and the tipped-over coffee table
and any major movement on either of our parts is likely to get one
of us skewered through the head with a coffee table leg. I
reluctantly pull myself up and off of Mulder to take us somewhere
more comfortable and less dangerous before things get to the point
where stopping becomes impossible. I take Mulder's hand and pull
him to his feet, then turn toward the bedroom, picking my way
around all the stuff from the coffee table now scattered across the
floor. This is our second trip to the bedroom tonight, but this one
couldn't feel any more different. Mulder's arm is around my waist
and he pulls me tight against his side as we walk and this time our
journey is all about passion instead of anger.
The bedroom is lit only by the light from the living room and it
takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I feel Mulder's eyes on
me as I turn to face him. I shiver with the knowledge of what is
about to occur and how much, all of a sudden, I need it. Mulder
steps toward me, his eyes darker than the darkness, but I move
back away from his touch, grab the bottom of my sweater and peel
it off to reveal the infamous green one.
"You said you wanted to see it," I say, and my voice is deeper than
I've ever heard before and I wonder if maybe it isn't coming up right
out of the place that is burning in my center. The green teddy is, as
I promised, cut low. Very low. So low that Mulder's eyes grow
wide in amazement at the rounded cups holding my breasts up and
apart, the neckline plunging down between them practically to the
floor.
"Fuck," he says with awe, which one wouldn't expect to be possible
with that word, but something about it sends my mind reeling and I
lose all sense of myself.
"Yes," I answer, "That's the plan." I'm not quite sure where I'm
getting these lines from because not only have I never talked like
this but I've never particularly wanted to talk like this, but the effect
is worth it as I watch Mulder sway on his feet and I worry once
again that he's going to pass out on me.
"Let me see it all," he says in a rough voice that reaches out and
touches me between the legs, sparking a fire that sucks in my breath
and makes it impossible for me to even think about playing games
any longer and I realize that the conquest has begun and I have no
desire to fight, so I reach down for the button on my jeans.
We're only five minutes into this thing and already I'm shedding my
clothes, not only willingly but in a hurry, and a thought dances at
the back of my consciousness that in the past under these
circumstances I've held onto my clothes as long as humanly possible
as a barrier, as a way to give myself last minute opportunities to
change my mind and back away, but now I'm in such a hurry to get
my jeans off that I fall to sit on the bed so I can work faster,
grasping the cuffs one by one to pull as hard as I can and get them
the hell off.
All I know is I want Mulder to see me, I want him to look at me
dressed like this, I want his eyes all over me and I never until this
moment knew how much clothes were a pain in the ass and it has,
after all, been six years so I don't think I need to worry about any
last minute changes of mind on my part and he damn well better not
change his mind either but judging by the way he just stepped
beside me to stroke my back as I wrestle with my jeans and if the
bulge in his pants is hard evidence, so to speak, I don't think I have
anything to worry about.
When I finally stand up I realize that the small piece of fabric
between my legs isn't nearly enough to hold the wet desire that I
feel, and, in fact, there isn't enough fabric in the world to stop this,
and Mulder's eyes take me in from top to bottom, all of me,
wearing the goddamned green one that started all this, the green
one I picked out with just this scenario in mind but not even
remotely in mind as a real possibility, and then he looks up at me
and he smiles and I melt into the puddle of wetness running through
the center of my body, up up up up into my brain, my mouth, my
lips, all of which I want on him now and I wonder how I've gotten
to this point where I have totally lost my mind.
But Mulder is looking at me like I'm a chocolate cheesecake and by
God that's perfectly okay with me, and I think for a moment that
perhaps I should be wearing a sign around my neck that says "Eat
me," like in Alice in Wonderland and I think that Lewis Carroll
would probably be rolling over in his grave at this particular usage
of his story but then I remember that the evidence shows he was
pretty much a pervert, in thought if not deed, so he just might think
it was funny after all and that makes me laugh out loud and Mulder
looks at me curiously and wonders what I am laughing about like
some kind of Mad Hatter and oh shit the casserole is still in the
oven but let the damn thing burn to a crisp because I'm not leaving
this spot as long as I'm chocolate cheesecake and that makes me
laugh again.
I feel like I have laughed more tonight than I have in the last
thousand years, and I have to wonder where these thoughts are
coming from and what has happened to suddenly make me so
insane and so not in control of my thoughts or feelings or the
scorching heat between my legs or the trembling that Mulder's gaze
is causing or the feeling that I absolutely must be fucked and I wish
he would hurry up and eat me--I mean touch me--and touch me
over and over and over until the cows come home or at least until I
do and then Mulder looks up from studying my body and looks into
my eyes and I see the cows coming home in a big way, and I know
then that I could laugh for the next thousand years out of sheer joy
at this moment and all of my thoughts zoom around in my brain and
I can't really catch any of them and I end up saying only one word.
"Mulder."
And then he is pressed against me and his lips are all over me and
his hand is between my legs and now I feel like I'm the one who is
going to pass out because I have no breath, no thought, no nothing
and there's all that zooming in my head but then for some reason I
remember that this teddy has a snap crotch and for a moment I am
embarrassed about how trashy that seems, but then I see Mulder's
face when his hands fumble across it and I see in that moment that
he just might love me more than he ever has and I hope to God it's
not just because I have a snap crotch although I know him better
than that so I decide the snap crotch is probably just a bonus added
to my other fine qualities and he wastes no time unsnapping in any
case and my knees give way when his hand comes totally onto me,
warm and steady between my legs, and he has to actually catch me
in his arms to keep me from slipping to the floor in a heap of need.
And I feel myself in his strong arms and want to bawl my eyes out
at how strong he has always been and how much I wish he didn't
always have to be, but right now his tongue is battling desperately
with mine and his hand is stroking me where I used to be snapped
and I figure I'll worry about that another time, and he carries me to
the bed and sets me down gently, so gently like crystal or porcelain
or something equally fragile, and I so do not want to be fragile right
now because I want to be taken rough and hard like this is the first
and last time ever, though I say a quick prayer that it is really only
the former and not the latter.
And God his lips are hot against my neck, my shoulders, the part of
my breasts rising above the teddy and his hand is still there and it
hasn't moved away and if it does I think I might have to scream
bloody murder, but no, he is not stopping and he is grinding his
fingers into me in a way that can only be called phenomenal and I
think about zooming cows and Alice in Wonderland and it all gets
mixed up in my brain with the thought that all his clothes are still on
and it's not going to work very well that way at least from my own
experience.
So I squirm away from that miraculous hand of his and kneel in
front of him and grab his shirt and pull it up and Mulder laughs
through his shirt which gets hung up below his ears, just like I am
laughing, enough for a thousand years, and he undoes his button
and fly while I complete the shirt removal and I can't help but grab
him just as his jeans slide below his hips because he is so fucking
beautiful and I want to know what he feels and tastes like and I
touch him and revel in the softness and shape and gorgeous
magnificence and I think of Alice again and "Eat me" and I figure
that I don't really actually need that kind of invitation.
Mulder is kneeling on the bed still trying to work his pants and
boxers completely down below his hips but I stay on my knees and
lean down to take him in my mouth like I am praying at some sort
of shrine which I am in a way and I figure that to wait any longer is
to deny myself what I really want which is ridiculous since he is
kneeling right here in front of me, and it is standing there in all its
full glory, and I really think I've never seen a man quite so perfect
and if this isn't perfect then nothing can or will be so I might as well
take a taste of sweet perfection and keep on praying.
So I wrap my lips around his cock and take the length of him onto
my tongue and tease him by tracing circles around him and then I
draw him into my throat and then tease him some more and
Mulder's hands stop their attempt at disrobing and fall onto my hair
and he groans low and deep like he first did when I told him my
green one was cut to there and I feel the vibration run through his
cock and across my tongue which totally amazes me and is there
anything in the world that feels better than this? Well, yes, as it
turns out there is because Mulder leans forward over my back and
curls his arm over my ass and his hand comes between my legs and
his fingers find their place again and he begins stroking me in
goddamn just the right way and with his cock in my mouth I feel
like I am brimming, which reminds me of coffee for some reason
and I imagine Mulder's cock tasting like dark coffee, strong and
potent and with a definite kick and I taste the salty cream of the
single drop of semen released in anticipation, coffee with milk, and
god almighty the cows are coming home after all.
And then his fingers reach inside me, deep inside where it is stormy
and hot and I feel them touch my soul and there are lights and
sirens and chocolate cheesecake and I feel the ocean surging and
I'm not sure where I am but there is pressure and pain right where
there should always be and all through me and I sense I am
screaming but maybe that's the sirens and Mulder is huge and
blistering in my throat and his fingers are stroking me inside and
everything converges into a dark tunnel with bright lights in the
middle and fire, heat, inferno spreading through my body and fuck
fuck fuck.
Then he pulls his hand away and pulls his cock from me and there is
a rush of cold into the inferno and the taste of him lingers in my
mouth like strong coffee, then flesh and movement and I am
straddling him as he kneels and he tugs down on the teddy so my
breasts are exposed and his mouth is rough and burning, teeth
scraping my nipples and then his cock is right where I want it and I
feel it just there and I press down hard to take him inside because I
can't stand another minute of this and the sirens are way too loud or
maybe that's the cows.
And now he is hard inside of me like steel fire and I move down to
take him as far into me as heaven and there are something like five
or nine thrusts but I have no idea how to count anymore because I
am coming with him inside of me, the whole thing seeming like it
must be a dream because just a few seconds ago I was coming
some other different way but this one works just as well and I grab
his bare shoulders and ride him all the way and I hear voices, mine
and his, clamoring over the rush of something in my head that
sounds like a volcano, but, no, I feel like a volcano and the lava-
heat runs through all of me and my muscles ache and I am
slamming against him, his cock so damn hard and deep and he is
slamming up against me and holy shit I hear him shout something
but I know only my cries echoing through my body and between my
legs and between his legs and the coffee-cream heat of his
ejaculation deeper than the ocean inside of me and I feel my soul
laugh and a thousand years pass in an instant.
*****
When my thoughts clear and I am able to see again, I see him, his
warm eyes staring at me and loving me and looking like he is in
shock. I am, as I thought, sitting on his lap, although how we got
this way I have no idea. But he is inside me, and that part is right,
and the logistics of it are unimportant. He shifts to pull out and I
think I want to object but I'm too exhausted to decide. His jeans
are still pulled down only to mid-thigh, and he lifts me off of him
and moves to a sitting position so he can remove them and his
boxers. I feel silly for not having allowed him to do that earlier, but
at some point I lost common sense, pretty early on I believe. I'm
not sure I've even had one coherent thought since we entered the
bedroom.
Mulder tosses his pants and boxers to the floor then pulls me down
next to him. He helps me remove the green teddy, which has
bunched around my waist, so that we are both, at last, naked. He
presses his long body against mine and I tuck my head below his
chin and stare at the small tuft of hair that grows just in the center
of his collarbone. Neither of us says a word for the longest time;
there really isn't much to say after all and I am perfectly content to
wait.
"Do you know what I found when I went looking through your
things, Scully?" he asks finally, his words falling like cotton balls
into my hair.
"What did you find?" It seems like ages ago that we had this
conversation, but it was just tonight, not even a few hours ago. It
seems like that was another person, another lifetime, another
relationship entirely.
"Your junk drawer," he says softly, and for some reason I am not
totally mortified as I should be. "That one little piece of you that
defies order and restraint. It was like proof that you could let go."
"You think I'm too restrained?" I ask.
"Scully, your shoes are in alphabetical order!" he says, tilting my
chin up to look me in the eyes.
"Yeah, well, no one's supposed to know that," I reply, knowing full
well that there is something ridiculous about alphabetizing shoes.
"So, is that what you were looking for? Proof that I could be
unrestrained?" I ask, thinking how odd it is that he didn't know I
was capable of that, even though I never particularly wanted him to
know.
"I think so, but I didn't know it at the time."
"I think you found it tonight," I say, laughing and tightening my
arms around him. There wasn't an ounce of restraint in what just
happened between us, that's for damn sure.
"Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, kissing me lightly.
"Excellent snooping, Agent Mulder." And I laugh again because it
feels so good to laugh, it has felt good all night, it feels like maybe
the thing that has been missing for so long. Restraint be damned.
Mulder pulls back and watches me laugh, then grins at me. He
kisses me again, his lips brushing mine with the slightest of touches.
It is a totally new experience after the desperate groping of the
evening.
"Do you know what I found when I snooped though your things?" I
ask him, turning serious again for what I'm about to say.
"What?" His eyes are dark as he looks at me, his hands stroke my
arms and shoulders.
"Proof that you loved me."
He looks at me intently, honestly. "Is that what you were looking
for, Scully?"
"I think so," I answer, repeating his words to me, "but I didn't know
it at the time."
"I guess you found what you were looking for tonight too, then,"
he says smiling at me in a way that makes the heat rise between my
legs again, and I start to think that maybe another round is in order.
"We're damn good investigators," I say, impressed.
"I don't know about you, Agent Scully, but I could use a little bit
more evidence." He rolls onto his back to pull me on top of him
and runs his fingers in feathery circular motions down my spine in a
way that sends my blood pounding and I start to feel my thoughts
squishing together again like waxy stars under a scorching sun and I
begin to wonder if I will ever be sane again, not that it matters,
because this kind of insanity is perfectly fine with me.
"Evidence is good," I say, grabbing his bottom lip between mine
and tasting it slowly and carefully like I have wanted to do for years
but forgot to do earlier because I was distracted by other things.
"Much better than crazy theories."
Mulder says nothing, just gives in to my kisses, and my thoughts
start to swirl in spiraling gusts of pleasure and heat as I feel the
insanity beginning all over again.
END
____________
Feedback? Please? sbarringer@usa.net
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