, "Leather and Lake-water", by C. Chaffin, (1/1), MSR, H, NC-17TITLE: Leather and Lake-water - A Sequel
Author: Char Chaffin
Category: MSR, Humorous Smut
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This Mulder and Scully does fun things that CC couldn't
imagine even on a good day... that's why they're mine, not his!
Spoilers: Only in fanfic... See note below!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a sequel for two of my stories: "Lace-
up Fly", and "Night Train". If you have already read those two
stories, then this one will make a lot more sense to you!
Thanks to: Orange Tabby, for giving me the idea in the first place;
she wanted a Leathery Mulder! And to Brigitte for coming unglued
because I only gave her part of the story... her reaction was
appreciated! Thanks, Ladies!
SUMMARY: What more can you give the couple who has black leather
and a Night Train? Maybe some creative ways to utilize their toys...
"Leather and Lake-water"
Let me give you a piece of good advice... never try to pull on a
pair of leather pants when your legs are wet. Not unless you've got
an hour or two to kill -
And make sure your lover isn't anywhere close by, laughing her ass
off at your struggles. It's really tough to maintain that muy macho
act when you're flopping around in the grass tugging at your britches
and cursing the day you ever took them out of the closet and wore
them just to make her happy...
I know whereof I speak - I'm still sore and chaffed from yanking my
own leather pants on too hard.
Oh, and before I forget the most important little detail... never,
never wear leather pants without underwear, for more than five
minutes. Trust me on this one.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I love Dana Scully, madly. I would do anything for her, and I do
mean that most sincerely. I trust her explicitly as well. On the
threshold of becoming intimately involved, she bought me these
leather pants. Black and soft and buttery - with a lace-up fly. I
never asked her where she got them; I was almost afraid to. I
figured if I showed too much curiosity, she'd go back and get the
matching lace-up shirt...
Well, the pants were fun, I'll grant - especially when, after I
obligingly put them on - without undies, as per her request - Scully
proceeded to show me exactly how wondrous a pair of lace-up pants
could be. God... if I'd had any inkling that lace-ups could inspire
her to attempt even a tenth of what she'd done to me that magical
evening... well, suffice to say I would have rushed out and purchased
a dozen pair of them years ago - and made damn sure to wear them
every day around the office regardless of the chafing factor.
Sometimes when I'm at work and stuck in one of those boring marathon-
meetings in Skinner's office, I'll let my mind drift a bit - and I'll
picture it again; that moment I walked barefoot across Scully's
candlelit bedroom wearing those black leather pants, and nothing
else. The way her eyes glowed a hot blue as she took in my strut;
something about the way a pair of soft leather pants cling to the
bare ass cheeks brings out the male ego every time. I know my ego,
not to mention the more physical pieces of my anatomy, were rubbed to
attention nicely by the time I'd reached her. And she'd stared at me
- and her little pink tongue came out off that rosebud-sweet mouth of
hers, and licked her lips - and in one graceful sweep she'd dropped
to her knees. She'd leaned into my hips and had caught the end of a
leather lace in her teeth, and tugged it loose...
And about three minutes later my knees actually buckled underneath
me and I'd landed on the floor next to my partner and soon-to-be-
lover... Dana Scully, Temptress Extraordinare. Lord...
One of these days Skinner is gonna ask me why I squirm so much in my
seat during those damn boring meetings of his.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I could write a book about the ways Scully personifies the epitome
of Exciting Woman, for me. In the past nine months I have learned a
hell of a lot about her, and not just the many ways she can make me
shout to the heavens when I come. That's really just the gravy on
the fries, as far as I am concerned. Her sensuality goes so much
deeper than that. I may take a serious flaying for this, but any
woman can make a guy shout in ecstasy. I mean, let's face it... men
are very testosterone-driven animals. Stroke them the right way and
they'll explode in whatever direction they're pointed. And the world
is full of sexy women; another fact. But sex and lust are also in
the eye of the beholder, and when I behold Scully...
Mmmm.
She's got a beautiful face, but that's not what does it for me.
She's blessed with a slim yet curvaceous body and skin like the
finest silk - but that's not all there is. Her mind is formidable;
she could excite the most anal Brainerama with what goes on in that
red-headed thinkpad of hers... but it's not that either. Courage,
determination, humor and aggressiveness; committed to her cause and
fiercely loyal - all these elements help to make the perfect Scully
blend. But that's not all there is to her - and that's not what does
it for me.
It helps, believe me - but it's not the be-all and end-all of what
makes my heart pound like a trip-hammer and my mouth go desert-dry
when she walks into my vicinity; what keeps me up late at night
thinking about every small thing she did for me and to me that
particular day. Even when she's curled against me asleep and my body
is sated with the loving of her, still I lie there in the dark and
think about Scully. And I can narrow down the reason for my unending
passion to a few simple examples - of course there are so many, but
these do stand out...
The day she quite literally ate those leather pants right off me -
and the day she came wheeling up to me in the bright fall sunshine,
snuggled against her new Night Train.
I will never forget either day; they are burned into my memory. The
pants signaled the beginning of our involvement, and the Train...
well, that's an ongoing lust-fest. I'd gone with her to pick it out,
and during that long day of test-driving and dickering with a very
stupid sales dude named Deke, of all things... it was all I could do
to keep my hands off her and avoid getting arrested for public
lewdness. To be fair, Scully felt it too; after she'd signed the
papers and finalized the sale, she wasted no time roaring us home in
her car, breaking every speed limit from Annapolis to Georgetown.
When she finally got me into her apartment and on her bed, we set a
speed record for fastest ripping off of clothes and furious planking.
I think she crippled me that day. Soft and sweetly-sexy Scully is
mouthwatering, that's the truth - but sinfully-aroused-mean-machine-
aggressive-Scully is really to die for. I may have passed out from
coming so hard; I'll never be quite sure. After I regained
consciousness the first thought in my head centered around the need
for very powerful vitamins and a good, strong truss.
I never bothered with the truss but you can bet I went out and
bought vitamins...
Well, I seem to have digressed a bit from the subject at hand -
wriggling into tight leather with wet legs. Kiddies, don't do this
at home... mostly because your mothers will never understand why, and
mainly because of the chafing thing. No sense in damaging your goods
before you're old enough to try them out.
The day started out quite ordinary, too - well, as ordinary as can
be when the woman of your every waking dream is somebody like Dana
Scully. It was a long-distance phone call from her; a breathy voice
filled with longing whispering in my ear that she missed the hell out
of me and damn these idiotic forensic workshops anyway - and why in
hell couldn't I have dropped what I'd been doing and gone with her?
Even as I reveled in her sexual frustration, the male in me preening
at the thought of being the cause of it - I was trying to placate and
calm.
"Baby, you've only been gone three days. And you only have one more
to go. I can't come up there - Skinner would shoot first and then
dance on my dead carcass with football cleats on his size-thirteens."
Her hard sigh was loud over the receiver and I fought to keep the
grin out of my voice as I added, "Besides... abstinence makes the
heart grow fonder - and my Johnson stand up and cheer a field goal or
two..." Scully's sigh turned into a chuckle which vibrated through
her voice.
"Mulder, this is the most singularly, deadly-boring workshop I have
ever had the misfortune to attend. And I'm not even trying for the
standard 'dead' jokes - believe me when I say I have heard more than
my share of them in only three days. If I have to sit through
another goddamn "Forensics and the Modern Pathologist" lecture, I
swear I am going to take my Sig out and help the lecture leaders find
viable subject matter. The only thing keeping me from complete
insanity is the knowledge that I will be home in twenty four hours."
Her voice trailed off into a pitifully put-on attempt to make me feel
sorry for her.
I fought to contain a laugh; I knew what she was going through. I'd
already been there countless times, in the years before our
relationship solidified into more than partners and friends. Hell,
every time I had to leave the office and go home by myself; leave her
apartment after a friendly dinner or a late work-fest... I went
through withdrawal. And that was before we became lovers. I
whispered to her through the receiver.
"Hang in there, okay? I'll be coming to get you in less than twenty-
four hours, Scully... and we'll celebrate your survival. I'll be
there at the gate." Her soft response made me shiver with longing
and simultaneously break out in a sweat.
"You bet, Mulder... and your Johnson and I have a lot of unfinished
business to attend to. A LOT, Partner..."
Ohhhh.... yeah.
An hour before I left for the airport, I had what could be
considered an epiphany. I was in the bedroom, dressing - slipping
into a nice pair of chinos and a short-sleeved shirt - when I
happened to look outside the window at a truly glorious, warm spring
day. Mid-April in DC is just about perfect, and already I had run
the air conditioner a few times that month.
Well, as I said... a perfect day. Much too perfect to waste on
driving in a car to the airport; how great would it be to feel the
wind on my face, and the sun baking down on me? I dropped the shirt
I was holding and walked over to the dresser, picked up the set of
keys lying there and hefted them in my hand. The keys to Scully's
Train; she'd left them with me on the off-chance I might want to take
it out for a spin. The cycle was parked at her apartment building
since the lot there was more secure than mine; but I did have the
keys... and it WAS a great spring day... and what a nice way to
surprise her, I thought.
Five minutes later I was out the door and on my way to Scully's
apartment to pick up the Train. And I had the presence of mind to
change into something more appropriate to the riding of a Harley - I
had yanked off my nice chinos and boxers, and replaced them with my
black leather lace-up flys. Well, it's not like I had a wardrobe of
leather - those pants and my jacket comprised the extent of it. I
topped the pants with a black silk tee shirt, shoved my feet into
black boots and as an afterthought grabbed my bomber jacket. I
grinned as I flew out the door, slapping my sunglasses on my nose...
may as well give her the whole 'bad-boy' package.
Besides, all that leather, silk and lack of underwear combined with
an overload of the afore-mentioned testosterone, was having quite the
effect on me, if you get my drift. By the time I reached her
apartment and jumped on the Train, brought it to purring life
underneath me and eased it out of the secure lot and into the street,
I was about ready to explode. Every mile that monster ate up on the
road was another mile closer to my goal: Scully, wrapped up in my
arms and pressed so deeply against my body that the only way to get
closer would be to solder us together.
Almost there...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Oh, God. Mulder... Jesus. Are you trying to kill me here, or do
you really not know what the sight of you in black leather does to
me?"
Well, so far, so good. Scully, in my arms. Pressed up against me
and the leather, her central heat melting into my laces and almost
fusing them together. She smelled incredible; like spice and flowers
and sex. Her inner heat has always been the most powerful
aphrodisiac for me; nothing in the world could ever improve upon it.
I soaked it in as I held her, peppering every inch of her face with
kisses. And Scully gave as good as she got; I had to stop before my
knees gave way in public. I released her mouth and tongue, and
pressed my forehead against hers. I forced out one rasping word.
"Luggage?" She shook her head, swallowing hard when I rubbed my
fingers under the collar of her suit.
"I sent it on with Sanders; don't ask me why but as soon as I
checked in the gate I had this weird feeling you'd come get me on the
Train..." I laughed and hugged her to me, hard.
"You know me so well, Baby. Come on; it's a gorgeous day and I want
to take the long way home. Maybe stop by the lake, and sit under a
tree, and neck a little." Her giggle tickled my neck as she gave me
one last biting kiss right on the jugular.
"Let's do it..."
In the parking lot the Train sat waiting for us; shiny and sleek in
the sunlight. Scully walked up to it and ran her hand along the
warmed seat, commenting, "This isn't going to be very ladylike,
climbing on this thing in a short skirt." We both looked at the
article of clothing in question; personally I had no heartburn over
Scully straddling a beast like her Train clad in a nice short skirt.
As far as I was concerned it was a dream come true. She wore summer
hose, which meant they were very finely woven; she'd be able to feel
every single vibrating engine purr. I knew for a fact that her
panties were brief to the max and she never wore a slip.
Oh, Baby... If I survived even ten miles of this ride it would be a
miracle.
Actually, I impressed myself... I lasted eleven miles.
At first the ride was a great way to reunite with Scully after four
days of deprivation; not to mention an excuse to feel her pressed up
against my back as I maneuvered the Train along Sleepy Hollow Road.
The scenery was incredible and I raised my face to the sun more than
once and let it heat me. Wasn't as hot as the heat behind me...
shit, nothing could ever be that hot. Guess I was surrounded by it -
talk about one lucky son-of-a-bitch. Cool breeze on my face and a
fire igniting against my leather-covered ass...
Perfect. And about to get a whole lot more perfect, for as we
rounded a tight curve and we both leaned into it with our knees
hugging the Train's gleaming sides... my woman made her move. Call
it revenge, if you will - I asked for it back at the airport when, as
my gorgeous partner lifted up her cute little skirt and her leg to
slip onto the back of her own cycle, I ogled her shamelessly. I may
have even drooled a bit. In fact, I'm sure I drooled. And I
whistled, God help me - I wolf-whistled at Scully. In a parking lot
full of people, drawing even more attention to the sight of a
beautiful woman attempting to mount a Harley without showing off too
much of her 'Piece De` Resistance', so to speak.
But my Scully is nothing if not the epitome of a lady, at least
around other people; she never reacted to the gawking of several
travelers standing around in suits and gripping various briefcases
and such. She paused for one small second when my infantile whistle
reached her ears, but perched in a very composed manner on the Train
and simply stared at me with one slender eyebrow raised, and a very
polite smile on her face. I'm used to the daily ascension of one or
the other of her eyebrows, but the polite smile scared the shit out
of me. And I was right to worry, because as I carefully climbed on
in front of her, fighting a losing battle to not stare at her legs
gripping the smooth black cycle... she leaned into me and slipped her
arms about my waist, casually enough to not draw suspicion, and
tightly enough to about cut my navel in half. The whisper she
growled into my ear clinched it.
"You. Are. A. Dead. Man. You won't know when, and you won't know
how... but you're dead, Mulder." Her little fingers gripped into my
leathery thighs hard enough to draw blood, as she added with false
sweetness, "Now get this damn bike on the road and take me to Lake
Barcroft so I can sit in the sun, before I really do you some damage."
Stop me if I'm wrong... but it seemed to me that I was supposed to
be the one with the raging gonads, wheeling furiously down the
Interstate toward ScullyNirvana... all sorts of plans swimming
upstream in my body and ready to spawn. With one ill-timed drool (I
refused to point fingers for whistling), I had turned the tables on
myself. And the result would be a killer; this I knew. I roared
down Arlington Boulevard toward Sleepy Hollow Road, praying for ten
miles of control.
Eleven miles later we leaned into a curve, and Scully took that
opportunity to slide both hands over my crotch and unlace me, nimbly
and quickly. I never had a chance to stop her - as if I would. It
took everything in my grip to hang onto the bike as our combined
leaning almost had us sunny-side-up on the rough road.
To recap... I was on a public road in the bright spring sunshine
clad in unlaced leather pants, roaring over the speed limit with
nothing to protect me against the glare of the sun except two hands
made in Heaven, cupping me. Yeah, she did... she took my Johnson out
of his little nesting place and encouraged him to bask in the sun.
Didn't take much encouragement; at the touch of her fingers the
little snake betrayed me completely and just about leapt into her
hand, head up and looking around like one of the big boys...
You know, if I survived this ride, I would no doubt kill Dana
Scully. In the meantime I was helpless to do more than groan into my
helmet and fight to keep the bike level. Wisely I slowed down, and
in an equally-wise decision Scully kept her hands relatively still;
cupping me and mostly covering me from the eyesight of passing
motorists. I could just imagine the headlines if we got pulled over
by the police, or even worse got ourselves into an accident:
"FBI AGENT'S JOHNSON SUFFERS MULTIPLE INJURIES IN HIGHWAY PUBLIC
LEWDNESS SCANDAL! Partner Denies All..."
Yes, you could say by then I was quite giddy from a combination of
elements. Steering a Big-Ass Hog down a public road in broad
daylight with your pants undone and your 'equipment' hanging out
while your girlfriend rubs up against your back and sucks on your
neck... Oh, maybe I forgot to mention that small detail - as soon as
we came out of the turn, Scully's lips latched onto whatever small
bare spot of my neck she could find and began hickeying for all she
was worth. I'll never figure out how she managed to bypass the bulk
of our helmets to do this...
Obviously my partner is one determined woman.
And she was about to discover how determined I could be, in turn...
I'd been keeping my eyes peeled for a suitable exit to Lake Barcroft
and about five miles after the turn, I found the lake access road and
zipped in there. At this time of year finding a secluded spot could
pose a problem, but by then I was so overheated I didn't give a shit.
I found a trail off the access road meant for bikes and four-
wheelers. It seemed mostly deserted, and a quick glance at the
Train's display revealed it to be mid-morning. Amazing how much can
happen to a person before noon... and of course I was too busy
rejoicing over the fact that I'd just gotten felt up in public by
Dana Scully to think about much else.
Besides, it was time to pay my woman back for her tender handling...
Once on the trail it was easy to lose oneself in the surrounding
woods, and I hadn't seen another soul around either. As we moved
deeper into the trees, the day turned to dappled pockets of sunlight
here and there; I pulled up behind an oak with a huge trunk and
killed the engine. I tugged at my helmet and felt her hands leave my
lap long enough to probably remove hers as well, since I heard it
thunk to the ground before her hands went to my waist and clung there.
Keeping my back to Scully, I grabbed at those soft little hands of
hers - and pushed them down into my unlaced fly. They curled into my
skin eagerly, and her low voice behind me shattered what small
measure of control I'd been nursing.
"Been riding that big Train, exposed and inviting public nudity
charges? All this time? Naughty, naughty, Mulder... I should report
you." Her lips nibbled over the mark she'd left on my neck and I
could feel the twinge of it down in my balls. And I kept her hands
pressed into me for several more seconds, feeling my hips beginning
to rock against her fingers as they stroked and probed - before it
dawned on me to wonder why in hell I was still facing away from her
when I could do some serious damage if I turned around.
Somehow I managed to disengage Scully's clinging fingers, taking a
deep fortifying breath before I rocked the train back on its
kickstands and carefully swung around to face her. In the warm
daylight and scattered sun of an April day, her eyes were luminous
and the fine strands of her hair had caught fire. Some women are not
dealt fairly by the brightness of day, but Dana Scully doesn't have
that problem. The daylight and sunlight love her; it was almost more
beauty than my senses could handle.
I reached out and grabbed two fistfuls of Partner - and my mouth met
hers in a starved gulp. It had been four days too long - and I'd
missed her like crazy - and it was not quite ten o'clock in the
morning and I was deep in the woods along Lake Barcroft sitting on a
hot black Night Train devouring my gorgeous woman with kisses...
could life get any better than this?
Oh yeah - it could. Because at the exact moment I remembered that
Scully was straddling the bike in a short little skirt, and thought
to pull away just enough to look down and finish ogling her legs...
she must have recalled the way she'd unlaced my fly when we were
leaning right... and her little hands pounced.
Later that night I would think back on our ride home from the
airport and marvel at how far we both had come not only in our
personal lives but in our relationship. This was a "first" sort of
day - first public display of sexual intimacy, and first boink on a
bike.
Yes, I would remember this day. I would awaken in the middle of
some cold winter night and recall the way both our hands tugged at
Scully's thin summer stockings; the pale silk of her thighs so
enticing against the Train's leather saddle. How I couldn't wait to
touch her, test her readiness for me - though I knew she'd been
prepared for me about two minutes after mounting this monster bike of
hers...
How her ragged whisper into my ear, "God, I'm so hot, Mulder... I
can't believe we're doing this here oh right there, mmm... it feels
so good..." Into my ear those broken phrases melted, and if I hadn't
already been on the edge her words alone would have pushed me over
before we ever really began.
How easily my slick fingers slipped out of that incredible tight
cling of her, and how big her eyes got, with the shock of watching me
bring those glistening fingers to my mouth and lick at them... I had
never done anything that blatantly erotic with a woman - I had never
wanted to, until now. For some reason tasting Essence of Scully in
this manner was a lot different than the good old-fashioned way of
'going south'. Twice as delicious... not quite a forbidden treat but
enough to make both of us shiver in anticipation of more. Scully's
eyes never left mine as I cleaned off a finger... and when I extended
the other to her and touched it to her lips, she sucked in a startled
breath before her pink tongue ventured out of her mouth and
hesitantly tasted, and then lingered to taste a little more.
The sight of her tasting herself had me actually groaning low and
fierce in my throat...
Moments later I shoved both hands underneath her bare bottom, pushed
her skirt up to her waist like a belt, and lowered her onto the
hardest Johnson I'd ever developed in my entire life.
I felt her wrap her legs around my waist as I adjusted myself on the
seat, managing to keep one foot on the ground and help to balance the
shifting bike. Harleys have damn strong kickstands, but I'm sure the
manufacturers of these cycles never figured too strongly upon the
possibility of two flat-out horny fiends fucking their brains out on
their expensive machinery. But at that moment in time if we'd been
offered the most seductive room, complete with satin heart-shaped bed
and mirrored ceilings with a roaring fire and complimentary champagne
- and edible underwear - we would have rrefused to budge off that
leather seat. Four days of separation had rendered both of us
temporarily insane; if an entire troupe of Boy and/or Girl Scouts had
tromped by in the woods, we wouldn't have even stopped long enough to
blush.
Maybe we would have waved at them, though.
As I said, I would remember this day, commit it to my memory as yet
another turning point in our relationship. With each hard thrust I
gave Scully and every push I got right back; every pull of her mouth
against me, almost eating my lips alive and each of us able to taste
her on our tongues... the surprisingly enticing feel of her fully-
clad upper body pressing into mine, well-covered in comparison to her
below-the-waist nudity - all of it drove me insane with the need to
explode. That stroking I had mentioned earlier, and how a man just
needs the right technique of it to let himself come a goddamn geyser -
well, just call me 'Old Faithful', because my partner had more
technique than I figured I could survive.
Thank God both of us had found a way to get in some decent foreplay
on the drive in; I wasn't going to last much longer. Scully has
these amazing inner muscles - must be all those years of tensing up
when we'd be in the field facing down this gun or that mutant.
Imagine my joy the first time she used those muscles for something
other than an adrenaline clench; I thought I'd died and gone to the
afore-mentioned ScullyNirvana, bypassing Heaven on the way. Well, on
her Train saddle, those muscles got a lot of use; she alternately
tensed, shifted, pulled at and shuddered around my every thrust -
until I was out of my mind with the need to come. And worried that
she wasn't quite there yet I slid both of my thumbs onto her clit and
pressed hard - and got a muffled scream bit into my shoulder for my
effort. Between the feel of her sharp little teeth embedded in my
skin, and the wild convulsions yanking and twisting at me - I did
what any testosterone-infested male would do...
I exploded in the direction in which I was pointed.
It took a good five minutes to catch our breaths, and spiced as they
were with delicious wet kisses, damp caresses and silly nonsensical
murmurings of re-affirmation... we managed to tack on another good
three or four minutes. As fabulous as making love to Scully can get,
I adore the afterward. Her body felt wonderful against mine; soft
and limp with assuaged lust; warm mouth covering me with tiny biting
Scullykisses and her tongue trailing those bites with soothing wet
heat. I ran my hands underneath her loosened blouse, along the damp
line of her back and down her sides to the front of her, holding lacy-
clad breasts in my palms and already looking forward to doing this
all over again in just a few hours, in her soft bed. We'd lose the
clothes, of course...
And it was then that Scully lifted her head from my neck, and urged,
"Mulder... let's go swimming..."
Thus began the chain of circumstances which has led to the sight of
a grown man rolling around on the ground, fighting to cram his wet
self into a pair of leather pants which suddenly feel way too tight -
and the beautiful woman who stands propped against a gleaming black
Night Train... laughing her ass off. And although it's a very pretty
ass indeed, I am going to grab hold of it and spank it a hot pink, I
surely am...
If I can ever get back into these goddamned pants, that is. Right
now they're still stuck around knee-level, and as everybody knows...
a woman can run a hell of a lot faster with her skirt up than a man
can run with his pants down. Of course I'm not really that willing
to put it to any sort of test... we could bump into a Boy/Girl Scout
Troupe at any time, you know.
But we'd do the polite thing, and wave as we ran by... we surely
would.
end
Feedback is better than an April day on a Night Train... Email me!
char@chaffin.com
Please visit my web site, at http://char.chaffin.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Believe the Words...'
http://char.chaffin.com
alaska_1013@hotmail.com
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