Dribble It, Just a Little Bit
Date: June 5, 2000
From: CorrineLS@socal.rr.com
Author: Lakota
Title: Dribble It, Just a Little Bit
Categories: RH (Humor, MSR)
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: None
Archive: Spooky's yes, else just email me the URL and
Keep headers attached.
Summary: Basketball is the name, sweating is the game
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from the X-files
are the sole property of Chris Carter, Fox
broadcasting and 1013 Production. I am just
borrowing them for a bit.
Note: To all that have read my previous stories, Chocolate
Temptation and Ducking the Issue, you will know of my
assignments that are given to me by my beta reader. She
gives me one word and I'm to make a story from the word. Her
motto--less words, will say more. So with that in mind--my
word for this assignment is: Basketball. Enjoy the
read!
Thanks: Again to all my cyber friends and the constant
encouragement that is given to me by them. Triton, I think
some day I will be able to write and not miss one comma.
DRIBBLE IT, JUST A LITTLE BIT
He doesn't see me standing at the edge of the gym watching
him, as he plays this game called basketball. He loves this
game and uses it as his peace away from the hectic life
that we lead. He maneuvers the ball across the court with
such grace and skill.
I need to talk to him about the case we're working on, but I
am hesitant, enjoying the sight that is in front of me.
Droplets of sweat slide down his drench-filled hair onto his
face. He raises his arm to brush away the sweat, not missing
a beat, as he continues bouncing the ball.
He stops abruptly and I quickly hide behind the pillar, hoping
that he doesn't see me. Mulder puts the ball between his
muscular legs, holding it there in position while he
grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and slowly lifts it above his
head, discarding it across the floor.
He stretches his arms, clasping them above his head, trying to
extend every muscle. As beads of perspiration glide down,
soaking his chest hairs and onto his tight muscular
stomach, I am ashamed to find myself starring. Feeling like a
voyeur, I can't stop looking at him--he must not catch me.
His shorts are loose, they barely hug his hips, and I see the
waistband of his jockstrap. He bends slightly to retrieve the
ball and continues bouncing it across the court, taking a
leap, banking the ball against the backstop--making a basket.
He smiles at his accomplishment, fetching the ball as it falls
down from the netted ring.
He stops again and looks around the court--I wonder if he
senses me, if he knows I'm watching. He shrugs his shoulders
and continues his game. Bouncing the ball, he reaches
the free throw line and stands there watching the basket,
bouncing the ball some more. He leaps, the ball flies through
the air; connecting with the backboard and dropping into
the basket.
I feel my excitement for him as I quickly cover my mouth,
trying to stifle my enthusiasm. He runs across the half-
court, catching the ball. Placing it under his
arm, he starts walking toward me and I suddenly realize I'm
not breathing. I don't want him to see me--I could always lie
and say that I just walked in.
I can hear his breathing, heavy from the energetic workout.
I continue to hold my breath; I carefully peek and realize he
is just picking up his discarded sweatshirt and already
walking toward the locker room. I know I've been lucky so
far, but let's face it, curiosity and my hormones are working
double time right now. I start circling around the outer part
of the gym, aiming toward the locker room. It's very late, and
I'm positive no one will be coming in, only insomniac Mulder
would be here at a time like this.
I slowly open the door and sneak in, reaching the far end of
the lockers, but yet close enough to see him. I observe his
lean body, still wet with perspiration, every muscle; every
curve. With one clean sweep, he lowers his shorts and
jockstrap onto the floor and walks naked toward the showers.
My heart is pounding and I'm breathless--what am I doing? I
have seen him before, but not like this. I've seen him when
I'm in my doctor mode, tending to his injuries, but not
this way...not...
He stands at a short distance from the showerhead, turning the
faucet, adjusting the temperature. Walking into the stream of
water, he looks up as he rubs his face with his hands, the
water running down his neck, his chest, his abdomen and his
hardness...
"Scully, come in and join me--the water is great!"
***************************************************
Tell me what you think! Feedback is welcome at:
corrinels@socal.rr.com
I'm a Pisces, so please be kind or constructive!
Thanks for reading!
***************************************************