Another story I must have dredged up from the depths of archive.org. I’ve tried searching for it again to no avail. If you can get past Scully’s jealous histrionics (and her wearing crotchless underwear to work), there’s some first time office smut to be had.
Title: Cabinets and Desks and Chairs, Oh My!
Summary: creative use of office furniture, written especially for Tali who said she’d share with Banlu! Happy Birthday to you both!
Thanks to: xdks who did a kick-ass beta job and fixed all those pesky tenses and commas I seem to abuse. And thanks to Deirdre – who helped me figure out how to format!
Feedback: thankfully accepted @ [email protected]
Disclaimer: Still don’t own them, I’m only borrowing them. I don’t have any money, so don’t sue.
Dana Scully threw the file folder in the direction of her desk with more force than necessary. She watched it skid across, making a satisfying plunk before it slithered to the edge, the force propelling it over and onto the floor.
Whatever. Mumbling, she turned, slamming the door behind her; pleased with the way the walls shook. She made her way to what passed for the employee washroom in the dingy basement.
A tiny room with a toilet, sink and cracked mirror, only she, Mulder and, occasionally, the janitor used it. She didn’t get a satisfying slam from this door as it never shut completely.
Mulder had kicked it in once, in a bit of a fit, putting enough of a dint in it that the buckle caused a gap in the bottom corner. They had gotten used to checking that it was unoccupied before entering and, as it was mostly just the two of them down there, she could pretty well guarantee it was empty if Mulder was in the office. Well, either in the office or up, she took a deep breath, up ogling the latest appointee to the secretarial pool.
Bracing her arms on the sink, she leaned forward in an attempt to gain some control over her emotions, to slow her breathing down, to rein in her anger before she did something else that was completely stupid.
Anger? Seething, blind rage was a little closer to the truth.
She looked up, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were red, an angry flush that started underneath cool, icy blue eyes and stretched down her neck, disappearing beneath the starched collar of her impeccably tailored white shirt. She pursed her lips, and in a stinging imitation, mimicked the woman at the centre of her fury. “Let me get that for you, Fox” _”here, let me get that while I rub my tits in your face”_ was more like it –. What made it even worse, was the reaction of her partner. As Christine had leaned over Mulder to grab the paper she had handed to him, the one she had _accidentally_ dropped on the ledge behind him, he had grabbed her ass — and groaned _ yes, he fucking groaned, with her sitting right there beside him. If Skinner had called them in at that point it may have prevented what happened next. Who knows, maybe it was just as well that it did happen then.
She roughly brushed an errant tear as it betrayed her and snaked its way down her cheek. She would not cry. Not over some bimbo with big tits and an even bigger ass, who snorted when she laughed, making her think of a sick hyena.
Outside Skinner’s Office, 9:00 am Mulder stood, confused, watching his partner’s retreating back. He alternated between opening his mouth, emitting a small squeak, which was really an attempt to call Scully’s name to gain her attention, and closing it when he couldn’t get enough air to make the sounds come out right. He ended up looking like a fish. Beside him, Kimberly, back at her desk, made little _tsk-tsk_ noises under her breath as she moved and patted piles of official looking memos and papers. Christine had retreated to the ladies room; most likely to try and get the coffee stains out of her white suit before they became permanent.
He shook his head, a weak attempt to get all the elements of the scene lined up so that it made some sort of sense to him.
One minute he and Scully were discussing the report they were delivering to Skinner. The next, Christine was climbing all over him, digging her fat knee into his groin, and Scully was dumping hot coffee on him, calling him a rude pig.
He scratched his head and turned, “Uh, Kim?” Her eyes rose to meet his and _ fuck, does every woman know how to do that eyebrow thing? He’d thought that was strictly a Scully trait.
“Yes, Agent Mulder?” There was definitely a note of disdain in her voice.
“Uh, I think _”
“Here, Agent Mulder.” She handed him a wipe she pulled from her drawer.
“That coffee will stain your suit if you don’t spot treat it.”
He took the wipe from her, not quite sure what she meant him to do with it. “Uh, Kim, can you tell Skinner something came up.” He wasn’t exactly asking, and turned, wipe still in hand, to take the elevator back down, in pursuit of his very pissed off partner.
He turned back to find Kim with a small smirk on her face. “Yeah?”
“You should wipe the lipstick off before you go see her.”
“Your collar, Agent Mulder.”
He craned his neck, trying to see what she was pointing at. When that didn’t bring it into focus he undid his tie and the first two buttons, nearly pulling his shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants.
“Ah sh– crap.” Tossing the wipe onto the seat he made a quick dash to the elevator and headed down to face Scully.
Scully splashed water on her face, erasing the tracks made by her tears, taking most of her make-up along with them. She hated that stupid mole, and she had brought nothing with her to cover it.
It stared back at her, taunting her.
Christine had nice skin; no moles, and no freckles. She probably didn’t get all red and splotchy when she cried either. She probably didn’t have to cry, seeing as she was the one always throwing herself at other peoples husbands _ or in this case, partner. “Bimbo.” It made her feel a little better to voice it. She pulled her suit jacket down and smoothed her hair. The ends had gotten wet and were beginning to curl So much for the time she spent straightening it.
That was another thing; Christine’s long brown hair. It looked naturally straight, not like she spent hours getting it straightened or ridiculous amounts of money having it done. It didn’t look dyed either, but these days you couldn’t tell. Face it Dana, you’re short, pale and red. No big breasts or cleavage to speak of, no long legs, not even long fingernails she could paint a tempting red _ they got in the way of her work _ to entice the opposite sex. She turned the cold water back on as a fresh crop of tears began. There wasn’t anyone of the opposite sex _to_ entice. As soon as she had herself together, she could make her way back to the office and repair some of the damage to her make-up. _Screw Mulder_. She half expected her reflection to answer her back. The knocking on the door interrupted her thoughts.
“Scully? You in there?”
She hadn’t expected him to be back here so soon. She was sure he would be stuck in the meeting Skinner had scheduled, giving her plenty of time to decide whether she should just clear out for the day or keep a stiff upper lip and bulldoze her way through it. She kept silent, thinking. If she turned the water off now, he would know someone was in there. If she just left it running, maybe he would think the toilet was stuck, like it sometimes did, and go look somewhere else.
“Scully? I’m coming in. So, if it isn’t you, you’d better say something now.”
When no answer was forthcoming, he slowly pushed the door open to find his partner standing in front of the mirror, frantically wiping what he knew were tears from her face. He took in the mole, no longer hidden under the cover-up she used. Despite knowing the moles appearance was testament to prolonged crying, he couldn’t help thinking how sexy it was.
He was glad, in a way, that she did cover it up. It was hard enough concentrating at work when he got glimpses of those shapely legs or when she took her jacket off and he could see the outline of her lacy bra underneath. Sometimes he even got a glimpse of her nipples, outlined beneath a silk shell. He knew her breasts would be a perfect fit, one for each hand. He’d spent countless hours imagining how they would feel, the skin soft and silky, how her nipples would harden as he caressed them, how sweet she would taste. The way her hair was softly curled around her face right now, it was all he could do not to run his fingers through it and pull that sexy mouth of hers towards his. If he had to see that mole everyday he knew he would be undone. He walked around half hard, and doing his best to hide it from her, most of the time as it was. If he had to see that mole everyday, well she would shoot him _ again. The way he was feeling right now, the pain might even be worth it.
“Go away Mulder.”
“Scully.” He stood behind her, watching her in the mirror.
“This is the ladies washroom.”
He ignored her attempt at propriety. The washroom was a unisex affair, but he didn’t need to be arguing semantics with her right now. “Come back into the office with me.”
“Why? So I can listen while you make arrangements for your evening activities?”
“Evening activities? What the hell are you talking about?”
She whipped around, nearly colliding with him. “You have lipstick on your collar, Mulder.”
“I know. Kim told me.” It was obviously the wrong answer. If it could, the eyebrow had gotten even higher, accompanied by a glare he hadn’t seen her use on even Colton when the bastard tried to grab her ass at the last Christmas party.
“Scully _ ”
“Look, Mulder, what you do on your own time is none of my business. Just try to keep your _partners_ from flaunting it during business hours. Is that too much to ask?”
“_Partners_? What the hell are you talking about?”
Scully waved her hand in the air.
“Partners. Sex. The bimbos from the secretarial pool you spend your off hours with. What letter are you doing this week? Oh, must be the C’s.” She tried to push past him, but his hands had come up to trap her between him and the sink.
“What the fuck are you on about? And where the hell did you hear that load of shit? And when _would_ I have time to _ what was it you implied — _fuck _ my way through the secretarial pool? I would expect you, of all people, to disregard crap like that.” He pulled back, hurt evident on his face.
“PMS was _last_ week. What is it this week?” He turned to leave.” Or are you just bitchy all the time these days?” The bent door didn’t give him the satisfaction of a nice slam either.
For a moment she was frozen, hands clenched at her sides, and the next, well, the next she was crumpled on the floor, tears flowing freely now, ashamed of her words. One bimbo secretary did not a whole secretarial pool make. She knew he was a hot conversation topic, had walked in on enough of them, or been stuck in a stall, forced to listen enough times, to know what the female population at the Bureau thought of Fox Mulder’s assets. She also knew he had no time for many recreational pursuits of the sexual variety. Their caseload kept them hopping from one small town to the next, and when they weren’t traveling he was busy pursuing other leads, things the Three Stooges dug up, or shadowy informants passed his way. Her cancer and the chip that cured it were just two more things added to his list.
She felt sick at what she had accused him of. She was still pissed off about Christine, but she really had no place to demand the same celibacy from him that she lived with. She was his friend; his best friend, not his wife, and best friends don’t do what she just did. No, Dana, she scolded herself, best friends don’t, but a woman in love with her best friend does. And that was the crux of it, and it was making her miserable. She had slowly, but not deliberately, no, she had tried to fight it, fallen in love with her partner. And he didn’t have a clue. Today, when Christine had shoved those big boobs of hers in Mulder’s face, well, she just lost it. It seemed right at the time to hurl those accusations at him, giving more credence to her indignation. Now she would have to apologize without letting on what the real problem was. Maybe extended PMS, or some other related malady would suffice. Heaven knows she couldn’t just tell him the truth: I’m horny as hell, Mulder, and tired of my own hand. Want to help me out? Oh, by the way, I think I’m in love with you. She pulled herself up off the floor to go and face her partner.
Scully hesitated outside the door to their office. From inside she could hear papers rustling and an occasional expletive. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like he was on the phone with someone. Maybe Skinner had called down, wondering where they were. Having their boss pissed at them, for something she’d caused, would only add more fuel to the fire. She couldn’t blame him for being angry with her. She only hoped he would be as forgiving with this incident as he was with the other, less serious blunders she made. She was about to push the door open when she recognized another voice coming from the room.
“She’s a little psycho, Fox.” Christine’s nasally voice carried clearly through the door.
“PMS, I think. Here, leave that with me and I’ll drop it off. It’s the least I can do to make it up to you.”
“Hmm. I can think of a thing or two that would _make it up to me_, Fox.”
“Christine, if you don’t mind, Mulder will do. I really am sorry about all this. I don’t know what got into Scully.”
Another throaty laugh drifted through the door and Scully held her breath, not wanting to alert them to her presence. She heard something that sounded suspiciously like a wet smack, like a wet _lip_ smack.
“What was that for?”
“Oh, Fox Mulder, you really are a little dense sometimes.”
_Christine _ ”
It was a low, breathy sound, complete with sexual undertones, and it pierced Scully to the core. She gave herself a shake, wondering what she was doing, standing there listening to her partner and that _ that _hussy_ get it on in their office. Well, it wasn’t really her office. The space was shared, in a way. There was still only one name on the door, _his_, no desk to speak of, and no nameplate on the table she used either, come to think of it. She wondered how he saw their shared space. If he saw her as having rights to some of it, or did he just see her as a visitor, someone available when he needed to throw his wild theories around, someone easily relocated when he had other business to conduct.
Later on she would have the luxury of time to examine the events of the morning, but in the thick of it, her rationality, her wonderfully logical brain, had done a little detour, allowing her emotions to rise and fill the void. Maybe it _was_ a case of extended PMS, or maybe she was just plain bitchy these days, but, as she listened in front of a door which only bore the name of one of the agents who worked the X-Files, Dana Scully went from being sorry she had hurt her partner with empty, baseless accusations, to feeling like a scorned and used wife, partner, _whatever_.
“Listen, Christine, _ ” He stopped in mid sentence as he pulled the door open, intent on ushering Christine out, only to almost propel the woman into his partner, who waited on the other side. He took one look at her flushed face, tears once again pooling, and knew he had screwed up again. Never mind that he hadn’t done a single, fucking thing. Never mind that she was acting like a possessive and jealous wife. He wasn’t ready for the stinging slap she sent across his face, or what it implied. Christine just smirked at the two of them, moved around Scully, and told _Fox_ to just _give her a call before he came by_, in that irritating nasally voice of hers.
The air fairly crackled between the two agents as they stood staring at one another. Scully’s hand stung and Mulder, his face marked by the perfect imprint of her palm and fingers, was gingerly feeling the inside of his mouth with his tongue, convinced the force of her slap had knocked a tooth loose.
He hadn’t expected to ever be on the receiving end of her hand-tohand combat training and didn’t want to start now if that slap was any indication of her strength. Closing his mouth against any asinine comment he might make, he took a step back into the office, grabbing her arm and dragging her with him.
Enough was enough. They were going to talk about this in spite of whatever menstrual monster she was fighting this week. The door’s quiet snick as it closed defied the tension in the room.
Scully was still surprised by her actions. The shame she felt at losing control was enough to puncture her anger, bleeding it off enough to allow her brain to begin examining her actions. In many ways they echoed those of her oldest brother, causing her to feel more shame, more embarrassment. Bill Jr. had long had difficulty keeping his temper in check. She on the other hand, always the calm, rational one, never reacted like this. Even at her worst she only became short-tempered, not explosive or mean. Today she was both, and judging by the look on her partner’s face, she had a lot of explaining to do. She wouldn’t be able to just pass this one off to hormones run amok. When Mulder roughly grabbed her arm, she docilely complied, allowing him to pull her back into the office.
“What the fuck was that all about?” He fairly hissed the words at her.
Her mouth opened, and then closed, emitting a low, choking sound. She had no answer for him and she couldn’t seem to make her mouth form words. Her bottom lip quivered and tears pooled once again.
“That won’t work Scully. You are not going to cry your way out of this.”
“I am _not_ crying.” The words had an odd, strangled sound to them and she used sheer will force to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks. She clamped her teeth down on her lower lip to stop its movement and, with every ounce of strength; Dana Scully straightened her back and wrenched her arm from Mulder’s hand. Scullys did _not_ cry. “You’re hurting me.”
He let go as she pulled away, the quickness of both their movements knocking her back. She settled herself more steadily on her feet and used the opportunity to wipe the offending tears away. “I am not trying to get out of anything.”
“Good, because you are going to give me an explanation for what you did outside Skinner’s office. You’re damn lucky Christine isn’t going to file a complaint.”
“Lucky, am I?” She gave a small, humourless snort. “Looks like you’re the one getting lucky.”
“Just what is _that_ supposed to mean? You’re not making any sense today, Scully. What the hell did you do? Get up and decide to screw with my head? Or were you going to go with the more general piss off Mulder routine today?”
“You have lipstick on your collar _Agent_ Mulder.”
” I _know_ I have lipstick on my collar. Kimberly already informed me_ Scully?” Her impossibly blue eyes were once again filling with tears. This was absolutely crazy. He had never seen his partner like this before. Okay, he’d seen her a little grumpy just before her period, and sometimes during if the cramps were really bad, but never this _ this emotional. Scully just didn’t do the whole bitchy female thing much at all. At least not to his knowledge, and after six plus years there’d been ample opportunity for her to display this side to her. He watched as she gave up trying to hold onto her thin wedge of control and just let the tears come.
Watching his distraught partner, he wracked his brain trying to figure out what he had missed, or done, that would warrant this strong a reaction. It wasn’t her birthday, or her mothers birthday; hell, it wasn’t his either. It wasn’t anywhere near the time she lost her dad or Melissa, or Emily, and, as far as he knew, not their birthdays either.
He hadn’t ditched her in a long time. In fact, for the past month or so, he’d been the model partner. No crazy chases, no weird shadowy men knocking him over the head, hiding him in a closet with a bomb on a timer, and no ghost hunts. It had been decidedly boring for a change.
Not that he was complaining. Scully had lost the raccoon look that had become as common as her perfectly styled hair or those tailored black suits she wore, and let’s not forget those five-inch heels he still hadn’t figured out how she ran in. So if it wasn’t him, that left _ Christine? What had she done to piss Scully off so early in the morning?
Christine didn’t seem like the type of woman Scully would spend much time chatting with and, as far as he knew, they didn’t even really know each other. Beyond the professional courtesy extended when she came down with their mail, he hadn’t known them to say much to each other. He replayed the early morning conversation and could find nothing indicating the scene that came a scant two hours later. He had left them together while he ran up to get the field notes from Agent Thomas, and she was gone by the time he came back down. When he had returned, Scully was busy finishing up the report due at the 9 am meeting with Skinner. He pulled up a mental picture of Scully at her desk.
As he played the scene in his minds eye, he could see the tense set of her shoulders, remembered her intense focus on the screen in front of her. He recalled asking her about Thomas_ take on the events that led to the apprehension of their suspect, and her non-committal grunt in return. He had chalked it up to early morning and not enough caffeine in her system. If he remembered right, all his questions and comments were met with the same disinterested, wordless response.
Screw it, he must have done something, he just needed to get her to spell it out for him, so he could make sure to never do it again. He hated to cause her any distress.
Shaking himself from his reverie, he focused in on his partner, who still stood before him trying to speak to him through the tears that continued to fall. “I’m sorry. I think _ no, I know I’m a little out of sorts. Mulder, I_”
“Shhh.” He surprised himself when he crossed the invisible barrier _ hell, wall _ that stood like a sentinel between them, and pulled her close, surprised to find that she came into his arms willingly.
While she soaked his shirt, he stroked her back, trying to calm her. If he could get her to stop crying, he might have a chance to find out what was really going on.
Scully stiffened. Mulder’s gesture was intimate, and though not unwelcome, not exactly what she needed right now, especially if she was going to pull it together and get out of the office without having to explain too much. She tried to pull away, but it only resulted in him tightening his hold on her.
“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on.”
She gave a deep sigh and sunk into his embrace. She was tired of fighting him. It felt too good to be held, to have his arms around her, stroking her back. She wanted this, even if it was precipitated by her inappropriate reactions, even if it was out of character for her to allow him to see her need, even if it wasn’t a real part of their relationship. It had been so long since a man had held her this intimately.
Mulder felt her relax, felt her concede to letting him comfort her, and couldn’t help but smile. She felt so right in his arms. Tucked into his chest, she seemed to fit and he wanted to pull her into him and never let go. For the sake of their partnership he’d never acted on his feelings, choosing to relieve tension with his own two hands.
Although it did the trick, allowing him to work a little more comfortably, he often desired the deeper intimacy a real relationship would bring. And when he thought about that real relationship, there really was only one person he could visualize being with.
The woman tucked under his chin starred in many of Fox Mulder’s late night fantasies, and in some rather mundane ones as well. In those, she took on the most ordinary role of all, that of Mrs. Fox Mulder, doing things that married couples did together. In those fantasies, there were no dark, shadowy figures who threatened their lives, no Cancerman, no abductions, aliens _ green or gray. There was just the two of them, sometimes with children, sometimes not, but always together.
Damn, the scene might be completely innocent and domestic, but his reaction to his partner’s proximity sure wasn’t. He tried to discretely turn the bottom half of his body away, hoping she wouldn’t feel what she was doing to him, only to hear a small gasp, then a low groan, and then her hands were moving down to cup his ass and pull him back to her. Holy shit, was she aware of what she was doing or was this still some part of the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on all morning? When her hands continued their careful exploration, making his problem that much more evident, he decided she was aware and most deliberately feeling up his ass.
He needed to see her eyes, needed to get a read on what was going on in that complicated head of hers. He carefully smoothed her hair back, tilting her face away from his chest. Raw, naked desire was mixed with uncertainty, both quickly covered by a mask of cool indifference.
He wasn’t going to let her get away with it this time, and without giving the action any thought, brought his lips to hers.
For a moment Scully was too stunned to respond. When she felt his tongue pushing against her lips she gave up resisting and opened her mouth to him. What the hell did she think was going to happen when she started fondling his ass anyway?
Equal parts of her wanted to fuck him senseless and pound him for his attention toward _Miss Boobs_.
For several moments they were pressed together, silent except for the occasional wet smack when one of them needed to come up for air.
She could feel the length of him pressed against her, so was taken aback when she felt him pull away. What the hell? Somewhat embarrassed, wondering if he had just come to his senses, realizing where they were and what they were doing, she met his eyes.
“Yeah, uh, sorry _ ”
He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Shhh, I just need to know why, why now? Before we go any further with this _ thing _,” he made a sweeping motion encompassing the two of them, “I need to know what went on this morning. What did I do wrong?”
She gave another deep sigh; she was doing a lot of that today, and pulled further back. She debated with herself, honesty or a believable version of the truth?
Knowing Mulder, he’d be able to spot any blatant lies, and she wouldn’t be a Scully if she tried to fudge her way through this one. She straightened her back and met his eyes with a determined look. “First, tell me what the deal is with you and Christine.”
She found his surprise encouraging.
“I don’t know what you mean, Christine is _ Christine? She works upstairs, you spilt coffee on her nice white suit and I’m going to have to pay for the dry cleaning. Is that what you want to know?”
“Mulder, she shoved her double D’s into your face. I heard you groan.”
“Scully, her knee narrowly missed me. If it wasn’t for my quick reflexes, I’d be singing soprano right now.”
“She kneed you?” The relief was evident in her voice, on her face.
“What did you think? Her _ what did you call them _ her double D’s _ were turning me on? Not a chance Scully.”
“Not a chance?”
“Sculleee.” It was said so softly, so lovingly, his feelings for her evident in his eyes, that she couldn’t help the small shiver, the answering ache deep inside.
He pulled her closer. “Christine,”
he kissed her forehead, “is a little obvious,” another kiss, this one to her chin, “and I haven’t been,” his mouth teased hers open,” interested in anyone else,” a nibble to her lower lip, “in a long time.” His tongue found its way in as he pulled her closer and he was rewarded when he felt her responding to him.
“Were you jealous Scully?” There was a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Mull-der.” Slightly muffled, against his lips, she drew his name out, giving his ass a squeeze at the same time.
Taking the hint, he pulled her more tightly to him, pushing her legs apart, pressing himself into the opening created. Oh God, he could smell how aroused she was, and if she didn’t stop moving her hips against him, he was going to come fully clothed. He pulled back, wanting to make sure this was what she wanted, and was met with the most erotic sight of all. Her lips were slightly swollen and still glistening from being kissed, and he groaned, thinking how wonderful they would feel wrapped around his cock, but her eyes, fuck, her eyes just about put him over the edge.
They were half open, and dark with desire. Her pupils were huge, almost eliminating the blue, and if there was a _pre-orgasmic look_, he was seeing it.
“Mulder?” Fuck, even her voice, lower than normal, breathless, was more than he could take. With one quick movement, he had turned the lock on the door and was pressing her back against the desk, pulling her jacket off and fumbling with the buttons on her blouse.
“Scully.” His lips followed his fingers as he pulled it open, groaning again as he took in the hard points of her nipples, which could be clearly seen through the transparency of her bra. “God, Scully, if this isn’t what you want you’d better stop me now.”
In answer, she reached for him, tracing the outline of him through the soft wool. “These need to go, now.” He felt his belt being loosened, and then his pants were pooled around his ankles and she had reached into his boxers. Ah fuck. He grabbed her hand, stilling her movements. “It will be all over if you don’t slow it down a bit.” His face was screwed up from the effort to keep from exploding and have it end right then.
She giggled. It was a soft, sexy sound. “Mulder _” she moved one hand Away only to replace it with the other, “still too many clothes.” She pulled his boxers down to join his pants.
“Scully.” He took hold of her hands and pulled them away. “Just give me a minute.” He leaned in for another kiss and decided he shouldn’t be the only one half naked. Finding the zipper on her skirt, it joined his pants on the floor. Oh God, stockings not panty hose. He’d died and gone to heaven. He took in the contrast between the black stockings and her pale thighs, and realized the other dark patch he could see meant _ shit, her panties were crotchless.
“Fuck, Scully, is this what you wear all the time?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead, dropping to his knees and burying his head between her legs. He heard her whimper, struggling to open her legs wider, to allow him to go deeper, but the angle was wrong. He stood up abruptly, and it took her a moment to comprehend that the sounds she heard were the items on the desk hitting the floor. Then she found herself on her back, with her legs flung over his shoulders and his tongue buried in her. That was all it took, and she was coming hard, noisily. It was a damn good thing they were hidden way down in the basement. She was still peaking when he pulled away and was about to complain loudly when she felt his cock at her entrance.
“Oh God, _now_ Mulder.”
He pushed into her. She was so tight and wet and he was beyond ready.
He managed two deep strokes and then he was spilling into her, and oh, fuck, she was coming again. Or was it a continuation of the first one?
He didn’t know and it wasn’t important right now. Next time, he was sure there would be a next time, he would spend all night giving her pleasure before he took his, , All he knew was that he was _in_ Scully, where he’d wanted to be forever. He wanted to set up house and never leave.
The realization of what they had just done, and most importantly, where, came to both of them at the same time. Mulder’s head rose suddenly and he caught the frightened look in Scully’s eyes.
His penis, soft now, was still inside her, and they were sticky, sweaty and a bit breathless. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be met with tenderness when she opened her mouth, or if she was going to rip him a new one. He wondered if he’d just fucked up the most important relationship in his life.
“Mulder, we should _” she tried to raise herself up on her elbows, but was still a little wobbly from her orgasm. And it wasn’t just _any_ old orgasm if she was honest with herself. Despite the speed of what just happened, this one was six years in the making. She wondered if he was going to regret what just transpired. As her head cleared, she began to worry that perhaps this wasn’t something he wanted. She had, after all, practically thrown herself at him. Fuck, he could’ve just been responding like any male when faced with a pre-menstrual, horny female.
The feelings that she had been struggling with all morning had clouded her thinking. God, she was jealous. If she was really honest with herself, she was positively green. She groaned.
She had just screwed her partner on the office desk. Finally gaining purchase, she rose, pushing him out of her, tears threatening once again.
Mulder now knew he had proof about the old adage that men’s brains Stopped working before, during and after orgasm. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but one moment he was happily surrounded by a soft, wet and incredibly sexy woman, and the next he was flat on his ass on the cold basement floor, his pants twisted around his ankles with _ what the fuck _ he pulled something from under his ass, it was a pencil.
He watched helplessly as Scully, pulled on her wrinkled skirt, and with tears streaking her face, fled the office, buttoning her suit jacket as she left. It took him another few seconds to realize that he should get up and do his pants up before someone came in and found him in this state, and that he should go after his partner before things were completely ruined.
When the knock came, and she knew it would, Scully still hadn’t decided how she was going to handle herself.
How did one _handle things_ after a quickie on the office desk? What was she going to tell Mulder that would explain her actions? Was there anything that would make sense of this? When he knocked again, she almost gave in to the temptation to hide and pretend she wasn’t home.
That was not, however, how a Scully dealt with things, and so, being her fathers daughter, she got up to let her partner in. Whatever he was going to say or do, it couldn’t be worse that any of the scenes she’d envisioned over the last hour. She opened the door to find him just about to use his key.
“Hey.” The smile he gave her seemed forced.
“Hey yourself.” She opened the door wider and allowed him to step past her.
He took in the box of Kleenex on the sofa, and the fact that she was still in the same clothing. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant. Was she crying because she’d stooped to screwing her partner? Or was she crying because _ he didn’t want to voice the second option, even in his own mind. As she shut the door and turned to follow him back to the couch, she passed close enough to him that he could still smell the lingering scent of sex on her. And damn, if it didn’t arouse him all over again, despite the current mess they seemed to be in. Thankfully, she was too engrossed in her own feet to notice, and he managed to sit down without embarrassing himself.
“Mulder, I think _ I think I _ I _ don’t know what to say. I’ll understand if _” She was stopped mid-sentence by his finger on her lips. He was leaning across the chasm between them, and his eyes _ her breath caught in her throat _ his eyes seemed to be seeing into her soul.
“Shhh, you think too much. I’m just really sorry I lost control and acted like some _ some adolescent on a first date.”
“It wasn’t all your fault.”
“Scully, let me finish.” He let his hand drop to hold hers, twining their fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t wait. That I didn’t take the time to do it properly, like you deserve.
Hell, one of those hourly rate places would’ve been better than the office desk. Scully, I’ve wanted to make love to you for such a long time. I feel sick that, after holding it together for the last six years, I finally lost it.” It took him a moment to realize that what he was seeing on her face was disbelief mixed with dawning hope. “What, you thought I was just reacting in the moment?”
“I’m not too sure what I think right now. I let my mood, my anger, and yeah, even some jealousy, push you.
I mean, I practically threw myself at you.”
“Scully, you did _not_ throw yourself at me. If I recall, it was rather mutual. I think I was the one who threw the stuff off the desk.”
Her laugh was soft, hesitant, still not sure what everything meant. “I still feel like I acted inappropriately.”
“Do you love me Scully?” Although the question itself was bold, she could read the fear behind the words, and she realized he would have to hear it from her first. She was a little ashamed to think that she doubted Mulder at all. She knew him well enough to know that he would never hurt her or use her in this manner; that he did love her.
“Yes, I do love you.”
He moved closer, pulling her onto his lap. “Good, that’s good.”
“Hmmm.” Scully closed her eyes, content to rest after the emotional upheaval of the morning.
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, okay?”
“Well, I know it wasn’t what I wanted for our first time, but it was kind of sexy having you half naked on top of the desk.”
“How long have you been wearing stockings and crotchless underwear to work? Because, you know, I also have this fantasy that involves my office chair _ ” He pulled back in anticipation when he felt her move away suddenly. “Hey, I _” and then he was laughing as she pressed her lips to his.
“My fantasy involves the filing cabinet.” She whispered the words against his mouth and he groaned, wondering what other uses they might find for some of their other furniture.
He’d always figured the computer table was just about the right height.