It took me a long time to dig up these stories so I had to share them. The four stories in the series are humourous little smut pieces based on the above photo of David Duchovny wearing those leather pants.
The Lace-Up Fly series by Jacquie LaVa
- Lace-up Fly [R]
- Night Train [R]
- Leather and Lake Water [NC-17]
- Hook and Eye [R]
Read all four stories below. Total words: 15,737
title: Lace-up Fly
AUTHOR: Jacquie LaVa
CATEGORY: MSR, Short Vignette, Scully POV
RATING: PG to R
DISCLAIMER: Mulder: “He never lets us have any fun, Scully. I say we let the fic authors have a shot at our lives.” Scully: “As always, Mulder, you are so wise…” See, CC? You gotta let them go; they’ll come back, honest…
SPOILER: A small one, for FPS
WITH THANKS TO: TexxasRose, and her shameless encouragement for me to write this bit of fluff, and to Mairead, for providing the visual delights that inspired me to write it!
SUMMARY: What do you get when you mix Fox Mulder, black leather and no underwear? Ask Scully…
As soon as she saw them hanging on that mannequin in the window of Taynor’s, she knew she had to buy them.
She hadn’t even been thinking of clothes, either – her attention had been focused in tightly on her nephew’s birthday gift. And she’d come to the mall for the express purpose of spoiling him rotten with at least five or six toys. Every once in awhile she just had to do it – because she knew Mathew was a good boy and deserved to be spoiled… but mostly because she knew it would piss her brother off , and lately, pissing Bill off was just too much fun to miss. And she honestly did not know from where such a rebellious attitude had sprung – unless it was the residuals left over from kicking that cyber-bitch’s ass just a few weeks ago. Immensely satisfying, that – almost as satisfying as hearing her partner tell her she had really rocked his world. She wondered if women suffered testosterone imbalance, as well – she supposed they did. They were just more polite about it, and called it ‘endorphines’.
Privately, she had decided it had to be testosterone; one excuse she had used to justify the immediate purchase of an entire set of Pokemon trading cards and buttons, the latest Snap-To! Building Kit for the Millennium, a talking Worf doll and two special-edition GalaxyRaider model kits. Mathew would have a blast, she’d thought; as she headed for Toys R Us.
Two doors up from the toy store, she saw them, and stopped dead in her tracks. Almost forgot to breathe as she stood there looking in the window, mouth half open and eyes wide. It didn’t help matters either, that the store mannequin actually resembled Mulder.
God… black leather.
Against a stark white backdrop of silky fabric, the mannequin sat, leaning back on its hands, head cocked a tad to the right and eyes half-closed as if contemplating something too good to be true. Dark brown hair, spiked up and slightly messy, tanned and wearing the tiniest of smiles. The eyes looked so real it was downright spooky, she thought – then huffed a silent laugh at the congruity of it. Muscled arms and chest, shown to advantage in the silky black tee shirt; tucked into… black leather. To be more specific, the absolute sexiest pair of black leather pants she had ever seen in her life. The long legs of the mannequin were perfectly displayed in the pants, which were tight enough to outline every hard plane of thighs and calves – and loose enough for maneuverability. Not that this particular mannequin was planning on getting up any time soon, but… nice to know it would be able to walk in comfort should such an event occur. She shook her head at the sudden inanity of it all, and then her eyes got even wider, as she noticed one very important tailoring detail of these pants made of soft leather… and she gawked, worse than a schoolgirl.
Holy shit… a lace-up fly front. On the pants. Right in front, right over the bulge… which this mannequin also seemed to possess; to have in common with her partner. She actually felt herself begin to perspire at the visual which popped into her brain, as she stared at those laces: Mulder, wearing them. Walking toward her in buttery-soft black leather, the fit perfection; the dark length of them clinging to every hard curve. That tee shirt would look incredibly fine, as well…
Then again, Mulder had too beautiful a chest to cover up all of the time. She quickly re-shuffled her imagery, and tried again, this time losing the shirt. Ah, better… Mulder, shirtless and tanned and smooth poreless skin – walking toward her wearing lace-up fly pants. Wait, one more minor change: no shoes or socks. Barefoot; elegantly shaped feet padding toward her, peeking out from the hem of those sinful pants… perfect. She found herself taking shallow little breaths, as she stood there staring at a department store mannequin who resembled Fox Mulder, enough to be a long-lost brother, or something… and time ceased to exist for her; toys were forgotten and the seconds became minutes while she leaned against the store window and spent her imagination there. Then she pivoted on a decisive foot, and walked into the store. As she approached the display rack and shuffled through the sizes there, fingers caressing the soft leather and admiring the clean, tailored lines… it never occurred to her to look at the price tag, or to wonder why she would contemplate buying something this personal for her partner. They had never bought much of anything for each other, not in seven years together. And their relationship was still so very new… but they were becoming more and more comfortable together; getting more and more familiar with the path. Longer, lingering embraces and more hand-holding; special smiles and happier laughter and nights filled with movies or pizza and beer. Kissing… sweet kissing; each one more passionate than the one before it. Tender kisses and caresses and it was all so new and special and comfortable…
And suddenly, Dana Scully knew that comfort was the last thing she wanted, from Mulder; comfort was, in a word… somewhat boring. Comfort was grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup; sugar cookies and white milk. Comfort was the one thing that Scully had tried all her life to achieve, and now that she was within reach of it, she suddenly found it was the last thing she wanted. A comfortable relationship with Mulder. A regular life, filled with all the regular things that most couples try to get for themselves. But regularity didn’t include hot black leather pants with a lace-up fly. And Mulder was anything but regular; the knowledge of it made her smile in gratitude. She wanted an edge to their relationship; wanted the feeling to sweep her away and render her temporarily insane – rather like a certain item of wearing apparel. Any day now, they would spend the night together; any day now they would both feel ready to become intimate with each other. Soon – for they hadn’t been in a hurry, both savoring the almost-‘date’ feel of their time together. But comfort WAS on the boring side, sometimes… her hand tightened on a pair of 32/34’s, and without further thought she yanked them from the rack.
Ten minutes later she emerged with a box in her hands. She tossed it into the back of her car and drove off, thinking of nachos with red-hot chili sauce, and dark warm ale. Definitely not comfortable… and she smiled as she maneuvered into heavy traffic, and headed for home.
The first thing Mulder noticed when Scully answered the door was the pretty ivory lace dress she wore. His eyes widened appreciatively, and he smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly, murmuring, “Wow, Scully – haven’t seen that dress in years. One of your ‘date’ dresses, isn’t it? I’ve always liked it.” He brushed a stray hair out of her eyes, and spent several bemused moments staring down at her flushed cheeks and whispering in her pink ear, “Does this mean we’re on a date, Scully? I brought flowers…” From behind his back he produced a small bouquet of blush roses, grinning when she buried her nose in them and breathed deeply, then raised up on her toes to kiss his bottom lip; her teeth bit very gently into that plump warm flesh, tongue flicking against his teeth; enjoying the tiny gasp he sent into their mingled breaths as the fragrance of the roses pressed between them and the desire began to build. She pulled away slowly, loving the look of heat banked deep in his eyes, and tugged him fully inside the apartment and into the kitchen, where he sat at her table and teased her about the “odd smells” emanating from the oven, while she put the flowers in water and arranged them in the exact center of the table, then surprised the hell out of him by swinging one slender lace-covered leg over his lap there in the chair, and settling herself demurely, right over his suddenly very-tight zippered fly… And as he gasped again, this time louder; as he found himself squirming in his chair underneath the sweet weight of her, winding his arms around her tightly and burying his mouth into her neck, Scully slid a cool hand through his silky hair and pulled him near enough to whisper to him.
“What’s the matter, Mulder… that nasty old zipper on your britches giving you what-for? You know, there’s a better way…” And with that she slid from his lap, deliberately wriggling on him as she stood, forcing another gasp from him as she pulled him up after her and led him into the bedroom. He walked behind her, holding her hand; bemused and aroused and wondering what on earth she was up to – when she turned to him, holding out a dress box, wrapped in silver paper. He took it, and looked at her with puzzled eyes, noting the sparkle in hers and the smile curving her lips into a perfect rosebud that he ached to kiss, so he did – leaning in and touching just her lips with his; one sweet kiss before he glanced down again at the box and his curiosity got the better of him.
“So, Scully… what’s in the box? It’s not my birthday; it’s not Christmas or Hanukkah or Agent’s Day or Groundhog Day… what’s up, hmmm?” She smiled into his hazel eyes, thinking for about the millionth time how utterly beautiful he was; knowing how amazing he was going to look in soft black leather; how she was going to just love watching him walk toward her in the dim light of her bedroom wearing those sexy pants and nothing else…
“Open it, Mulder. It’s not your birthday or Christmas or Hanukkah or Agent’s Day or Groundhog Day – but it IS exactly three months to the day that I looked at you, really looked at you – and knew beyond any doubts that I wanted so much more from our partnership than just a partnership. So, it’s an anniversary, of sorts – and I was just out shopping and I found the perfect gift for us…” His raised eyebrows spoke volumes, as he caught the possessive “us”.
“We gonna share this gift, Scully? Is that it? ‘Cause this isn’t a very big box; and I can’t help but wonder what could be in here that would fit both of us…” Her chuckle was low and rich in his ears, as she edged closer to him and her fingers tapped the box, making the silver paper crinkle.
“Only one way to find out, Mulder… open it and see. I’ll just sit over here and watch; after all, I already know what I’m getting…” She sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed with ladylike precision underneath the lacy dress, and waited for him as he prodded at the box with one long finger, before he couldn’t take the suspense any longer, and he tore at the paper and opened the box and tossed aside white tissue and unearthed…
“Scully, you little devil… I don’t know what to say.” He held the pants up and considered them from all angles, and her voice floated over him like a promise of a very long, hot, very non-comfortable night to come, as she stepped into the circle of his arms and pressed a suggestion into his open mouth.
“Why don’t you try them on for size, Mulder… and then I can share in your oh-so-thoughtful gift.”
Ten minutes later, Scully stood in the center of her bedroom, watching her partner walk toward her wearing nothing but tight, butter-soft black leather with the most intriguing lace-up fly… and he finally stopped a scant six inches from her, gazing down into her lovely face with a hot glaze of desire and want in his eyes… and his voice rumbled over her, sending shivers down her spine, as he murmured, “Well, I got mine, Scully – what about you?” She merely smiled sweetly at him, before dropping gracefully to her knees, her lace dress swirling around her on the carpeted floor, and leaned forward, taking the end of a leather lace in her teeth, and tugging on it, her hands curving around his narrow, sleek hips. His eyes got big and he swallowed audibly as he groaned out a strangled, “I think I begin to see how this gift can work for both of us…” Her soft reply was almost lost in the actual unwrapping process, as she found him with first her lips, then her tongue; and before settling in for a more thorough investigation of her own, she sent one searing glance up at him, locking his gaze with hers.
“I thought you might, Mulder…”
TITLE: Night Train
AUTHOR: Jacquie LaVa
CATEGORY: MSR, Humor
DISCLAIMER: Oh, like CC would ever let them have any fun…
SPOILERS: Does previous fic count? If not, then… Nope!
THANKS TO: My sissy Tbishop, whose late-night confessions of harboring a love for this particular fic topic was enough to convince her to beta for me… This one’s for you, Darlin!
SUMMARY: A whole lotta money for unadulterated power… and our Scully succumbs without a fight…
What an incredible feeling… completely addictive. I can’t believe I waited so many years to experience something so amazing… so powerful. I feel powerful, I really do. Oh, sure – I know the source of my power comes from the well-oiled and lambent roar of the machinery I ride, my legs embracing each side almost like a lover But I feel powerful, just the same.
If my mother could see me now – well, she’d scream a fit and then probably swoon. Right into the arms of one of my disapproving brothers, I am sure. Well, then again – maybe not. Mom’s pretty tough, actually; she’d be more likely to cheer me on – after she screamed, that is. My brothers, on the other hand…
Not even Charlie; the more even-tempered, less protective and more playful of the two – not even him. I don’t think I want to tell them. Even though the newly-reckless side of me would enjoy the hell out of wheeling up to Bill’s house, and catching the look of complete horror on his face… it would be sweet.
Nope – on second thought, I’ll behave. For now.
When I told my partner what I wanted to do, I was very surprised at the reply I got. Of course, I’d first broached the subject over the phone, and so I missed whatever expressions my words may have created –
“Wha – are you kidding? What on earth for?”
Thanks for the support, Partner… “Because I’ve always wanted one, that’s why. That’s enough of a reason, I’d say…”
Snort. Disbelieving snort, at that. “That’s the only reason? Because you’ve always wanted one, Scully? Okay – who are you and what have you done with my level-headed partner…”
Har De Har Har, Mulder… thanks a lot. My face fell, at the thought that he wasn’t taking me seriously. “Just what do you see as so impossible about this, Mulder? Have I become so boring and predictable that I couldn’t be impulsive and exciting once in awhile?”
He hastened to assure me, sensing perhaps the note of beginning irritability in my voice. “No, of course not, Scully! Jesus, you’re one of the most exciting women I know… well, next to Wonder Woman, naturally – and since I don’t know her personally then I’d say you’re THE most exciting woman I know. Impulsive… well, I think you’re certainly capable of it… But that’s not the point. Safety issues notwithstanding, these things are damned expensive, especially the better models… where are you gonna come up with that kind of money?”
I sighed; practical Mulder was a whole lot scarier than Spooky Mulder, I guarantee. “I’ve got some saved up. This isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know; I’ve been thinking about it for some time. About six months, actually.”
It was true – I HAD been thinking about it for that long. More and more lately, though… and I refused to consider the possibility that I was going through the male version of “Middle-Age Crazy”…
I had even gone out on the Web, looking around. Instead of dwelling on why, at my age, I wanted something so expensive and so impractical – I was toying with the idea of spoiling myself, for once in my life. Figured I really did deserve it…
I sighed into the receiver. “I want to go looking tomorrow; maybe get in a test-drive… why don’t you come with me, Mulder? I could use a male opinion – and you should understand, up front – I am going to do this. But I’d like it if you came along.”
He hummed a bit, thinking, I was sure – then I could almost hear the smile in his voice, as he replied. “Why not? I live to be the epitome of male opinion, just for you, Scully…”
I smiled and shook my head as I replaced the receiver, after tossing one last retort his way. “Gee, thanks, guy – Ten o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”
Lanham was a pleasant drive, and it was a beautiful autumn day. I leaned back in my seat and let the soft jazz coming from my CD player wash over me. Mulder drove with one hand on the wheel and the other cupped warmly over my left knee; occasionally he gave it a squeeze.
He’d met me in front of his building right at ten, with a smile and a kiss – and bagels. So sweet of the man, to feed me – knowing I wouldn’t bother feeding myself.
I’d hopped in the passenger side with a big grin on my face, tossing him the keys. He’d caught them with one hand, and inquired, “So I’m your limo driver, Scully? I drive, and you scarf all the bagels? Don’t touch the blueberry one; that’s mine.” He climbed in, adjusting the seat in a hurry before his knees could knock into his chin and we were off.
I’d pulled out a handful of print-outs from the web site I’d visited earlier in the week, and read the dealership address to him.
“Lanham – on Annapolis Street. It’s a huge dealership; I should be able to find exactly what I’m looking for.” I scanned the pages I’d printed, looking at all the different models and reading the specs out loud. “Listen to this one – FXD Dyna Super Glide, twin cam 88 vibration engine, isolation-mounted. 82.0 @ 3500 rpm torque…”
Mulder squeezed my denim-clad knee again, and flashed me a quick look.
“Do you understand what any of that means, Scully? I can’t pretend to know much about it, but I’d say that’s one serious machine. Very powerful… which usually means very big. If you want to know the truth, when you told me about this last night I guess I assumed you’d be interested in something smaller.” He maneuvered around a slowpoke Honda in front of us, while I flipped through pages and came up with another model. Holding it up, I showed him the picture and then read some of the specs.
“You were thinking something more along these lines? XLH Sportster 883 Hugger… OHV v2 Evolution engine and 52.0 @ 4500 rpm torque. Is that more your idea of the sort of thing I’d want, Mulder?”
He shrugged and chanced another look at me; probably noticing that I was trying hard to keep the impatience out of my voice. “Not necessarily, Scully… but let’s look at this from a purely physical standpoint: you’re a slender, petite woman. You have a great deal of upper body strength, for someone your size… but still you’re not exactly an Amazon. You may not be able to handle a huge machine.
Just keep that in mind, and don’t get your hopes up, okay? Bigger is not always better…”
Twenty minutes later we stood in the center of the Harley-Davidson dealership in Lanham, staring at a wickedly-built 2001 FXSTB Night Train… and I knew I’d fallen in love.
I circled the cycle, running a hand along its black shiny sides, admiring the line of it; the sheer power of it. It was big, but I didn’t think I’d have trouble handling it. It was sheer power; as inexperienced as I was with cycle models, even I could see that.
As I took a third turn around the gleaming bike, a sales associate sauntered over, and made the grave error of addressing Mulder first.
“Beautiful piece of machinery, isn’t she? You’ve got a great eye.
The Night Train is one of our hottest and most powerful street bikes.
Gets fabulous gas mileage and the feel of it, even on rough roads absolutely the best, man.” He smiled at Mulder, a toothy insincere let-me-sell-you smile, and Mulder grinned right back, playing up to him.
“I don’t know… I was really looking for something bigger, you know? Something more impressive.”
The other man looked at Mulder with comically-shocked eyes, and immediately slapped a spec sheet in his hand.
“This is top of the line, my man. The best Harley has to offer, in 2001. You wheel up to a stop light in this baby, and you’ll be the envy of everyone in a five-hundred mile radius… I guarantee it.
Tell you what… how about a test drive? It’s the only way to get the ‘real deal’ feel of a Harley. I can loan you a helmet. You and your lady can take a spin, let it show you what it’s got, and then you tell me if you think it’s impressive enough.”
Mulder pretended to think hard on it for a moment, then turned to me and slipped an arm around my waist, supporting me as if I was a doddering elderly woman, instead of the potential buyer of a bonafide Harley. He gazed into my eyes meltingly.
“Whatcha say, honey? Should we try this bike on for size? Are you up to it, Sweetheart?” He was biting on his bottom lip hard – any minute he would just lose it, and I didn’t want that – I wanted to put this idiot sales guy in his place.
I fluttered my lashes at Mulder, and replied in a soft, weak voice.
“Oh, I think I could try it, for a little spin, Dear – but, promise to take care and go slowly? My heart, you know…” I clutched at my chest in dramatic emphasis, and Mulder gnawed on his poor lip, hard, but nodded – and the sales jerk nodded right along with him, as if by looking at me somehow he could just tell that I was a sickly old thing.
I smiled up at Mulder, then my eyes narrowed ominously… for just a second, as I began plotting a way to get this moron Harley guy back for his assumption that I was merely the ‘woman’, and therefore in no way would be considered the buyer.
Outside in the lot, the sales moron – who told us to call him ‘Deke’ – wheeled out a midnight black Night Train, and gave us both helmets.
He handed Mulder the key and stepped back, all smiles… as Mulder mounted the gleaming bike, and helped me climb on behind him.
I adjusted the helmet, which seemed about three sizes too big; it kept slipping down and covering my eyes. I finally looked pleadingly over at Deke, begging in a soft little voice. “Deke, could you find another helmet for me? I have a very small head…”
Deke smiled at me patronizingly and nodded, disappearing into the showroom and returning with a smaller helmet, which fit better – then as I strapped it on, he made the gross mistake of telling me it was a child’s helmet. I smiled sweetly at him and fumed behind my bared teeth… bastard.
Mulder inserted the key, turned it and kicked the monster to life it roared and purred all at the same time. Between my legs the vibration of that engine felt as good as sex… and I knew when I actually got to drive it myself, that feeling would be intensified.
I slipped my arms around Mulder’s back and buried my face into his jacket, the very image of a scaredy-cat girl-baby… and I could feel Mulder’s shoulders shaking, although the jerk Deke would never have noticed – so eager was he to point out all the gee-wow things about the cycle that he should have been pointing out to me. As I said, a bastard…
Mulder gunned it and we were off. The cycle was most certainly one sleek animal; the ride surprisingly smooth. Mulder took it out on the busy street and headed up past Annapolis, around the corner from the lot, out of sight… took it about five more miles up the street and in a deserted parking lot he stopped, and turned around to face me.
“Are you ready to take it out, Scully… you old crippled thing, you?” His grin was infectious, and I laughed out loud, then tightened my lips over my teeth and spoke in a quavering toothlesssounding voice.
“Sure thing, Sonny…” I slid off and we swapped places; I settled in and took a few minutes to get the feel of it under my body, squirming on the seat and laughing again when Mulder, watching me wriggling, broke out in an actual sweat and muttered something about torturing him.
He got on behind me and his hands snaked around me and gripped both breasts; I slapped his hands down to my waist and retorted, “Behave, Mulder… or else I won’t let you ride.”
I adjusted the mirrors, and caught the sudden, unsure look on his face as he leaned over my shoulder and murmured in my ear.
“Scully… you DO know how to operate one of these things… don’t you? I mean… I just assumed…”
I took pity on him and interrupted him gently. “Mulder, relax… one of my best friends in college had a Harley. She taught me. I even have a license.”
Mulder chuckled and nodded, seemingly unsurprised. “I knew it…Wonder Woman…”
I snickered and kicked the Train alive, beneath me. The feel of it made me shudder.
“Shut up, Mulder, and hang on tight.”
At first I took it easy, staying well within the city speed limit and just letting myself become accustomed to the feel of that much power under my body. It WAS a very large bike, and intimidating as hell. But it did purr… God, did it purr! Much smoother than I remembered a bike to be… smooth ride and smooth leather saddle and smooth-as-silk engine. Behind me Mulder held loosely to my waist and leaned his chin on my shoulder, helmeted head close to mine and seeming to enjoy the wind in his face as I edged up the speed. The street turned off onto the main highway and I gunned it some more; by then we were doing about fifty.
I was having the time of my life, knowing that a good five miles ago I had already decided to make this machine my very own. At that point I wouldn’t have cared how expensive it was… I wanted it. More than I had ever wanted anything in my life… well, except for Mulder, of course. But since I already had him…
“Scully! We should turn back; we’ve been gone more than thirty minutes!” Mulder shouted in my ear and I barely caught the words; but I nodded, and slowed down, finally stopping and finding with my thick-soled boots that I had just enough leg length to plant a firm foot on the ground. I left the bike idling and unstrapped my helmet, pulling it off and turning to face Mulder with a huge smile on my face.
He squinted in the sun and one hand came up to my face, an index finger stroking across my bared front teeth. I emitted a choking laugh and swatted his hand away, indignantly. “I do NOT have bugs on my teeth, Mulder!”
He grinned at me and leaned in for a quick kiss, then whipped off his helmet and ran a hand through his flattened hair. “That was one sweet ride, Partner… and I got news for you. If you were grinning that inanely all this time, you have got to have a bug or two lodged in there somewhere,” as he inspected my pearly whites again.
I snorted and turned completely around so that I was facing him; slipped my arms around his neck and yanked him close enough to growl in his ear.
“If I’ve got bugs in my choppers it’s my business, not yours. Just be glad I don’t make you clean them off with your tongue.” I let go of his neck but kept my face close, and I returned his kiss with enthusiasm, whooping in glee when his tongue duly swiped along my teeth in an attempt to rid them of said ‘bugs.’ Nose to nose, we stared each other down, my eyes almost crossing with the effort of keeping him in focus – and Mulder rubbed at my nose with his, and murmured regretfully.
“Come on, BikerBabe… before Deke sends the cops after us for Grand Theft Harley. Besides, he’s holding your prime piece of automobile hostage, y’know…”
That smart little remark earned him a bite on his ear, as I retorted in defense of my poor car. “Don’t poke fun at my car, Mulder; it can’t help it if it can’t compete with a 2001 FXSTB Night Train. You do know I’m buying this, don’t you? If I have to bankrupt myself, I’m buying it. And before you say a thing… yes, I know what I’m getting myself into! And no, I’m not going to start wearing leather chaps and hanging out in biker bars… although I could be persuaded to join the local Harley Club.”
Mulder nodded with resignation and gave me one more squeeze, before he put the helmet back on. He helped me strap on the child’s helmet (and I was STILL smarting over that deliberate slam by Deke the sales geek), and as I kicked the Train into a dull roar, shouted at me.
“So, Baby… do you ride this mother back to the dealership, or do I? After all, I didn’t really get much of a chance with it… I was sorta looking forward to having all this torque vibrating against my balls…” He settled into the seat behind me, and this time when his hands found my breasts and hung on, I let him.
I snuggled back into him for a second or two and let my rasp of an answer keep him from too much disappointment. “Mulder, relax… you’ll get your turn. And if you’re a very good, good boy… and you hang on really, really tight… I’ll find a way to vibrate your balls, later on tonight…”
His entire body shuddered against my back as he digested my teasing promise. And he moaned his acquiescence right back at me.
“Ooh, Baby, Baby…”
On the drive back to the dealership I let the Train have free rein, and the big cycle responded like a dream come true. I took it up to seventy and it leapt to life beneath me; the heat of the engine warming my very center as I hugged its gleaming sides. Mulder hadn’t let go of my breasts for a minute; luckily my jacket was loose and unbuttoned most of the way. With very little traffic out on the highway I wasn’t worried about anyone figuring out where his hands were at… nor did I particularly care at that moment, if somebody pulled up beside us and noticed. Riding a Harley had a way of knocking down most, if not all, inhibitions… this I had discovered.
I also discovered that I liked it… no, stronger than that.
I loved it.
As we approached the heavier traffic, Mulder slid his hands more discreetly down to my waist, although his body still pressed close.
I missed the feel of those hands cupping me so warmly, while a powerful engine throbbed between my legs… but knowing what awaited me in bed, later on that night… I wasn’t overly despondent. I’d have another crack at those warm, cupping hands and that powerful engine and its throb…
The dealership lot finally came into view, and as we rolled in, there stood Deke the sales guru – trying very hard to keep a nonpanicked smile on his face. I almost laughed out loud; I could just imagine the sort of sweat our hour-or-so absence had raised on the little nerd. I watched his face carefully, noting with sublime pleasure the exact moment when he realized who was behind the controls. Deke’s face turned a sickly shade of paste, and his chinless jaw dropped… as I steered the big Harley right up to him, only perhaps three inches from his big toe.
I gunned the engine one last time, with a practiced twist of my wrist; the Train purred back at me as if to say, “Mmmm… buy me, Mistress! Don’t leave me here with Deke the Geek…”
Well, okay, I admit… that’s what I figured it would say, if it could actually talk. I cut the engine and yanked out the key, flipping it to Deke, who barely caught it with one stunned hand.
I pulled off the helmet and tossed it to him as well, remarking, “Nice Train, Deke… solid maneuvering over some of the nastier pot-holes out on East Annapolis, and I was impressed with the ease and stability of that double-row chain on the primary drive.
Although I’m not too sure about the necessity of having a carburetor fuel sys – I’d like it better if this baby was set for ESPFI. I don’t suppose you’ve got another one back there on your lot… just as loaded as this one, with ESPFI… would you, Deke?”
His mouth opened and shut several times – as I swung a leg gracefully over the side and managed to set the dual kickstands in place without Mulder’s help. Not that he would have been any help, none at all… because he was leaning up against my car and laughing his fool head off.
I smiled sweetly at Deke, who still couldn’t form a coherent answer to my question, and murmured, “Why don’t I just have a look for myself? I know what to look for… you can just go ahead and write it all up.
By the way, I work for the Federal government… FBI. My partner here, Agent Mulder, will be happy to give you any credit information you may need… as soon as he stops laughing.”
I turned and headed for the outside lot, adding over my shoulder as an afterthought… “Oh, and Deke? Don’t even think of jacking up the price, just because I’m grabbing that electronic sequential port fuel injection… I know it’s standard.” And as I walked toward the glittering line of bikes on the outside lot, I could have sworn I heard Deke whimper…
A week later, I had my Night Train. Unfortunately the lot did not have exactly what I wanted, and I would not give one inch and accept any other model, any other color or the Train I had tested out. Deke had tried his best to talk me into all of the above; I suppose he saw his commission swirling down the proverbial drain, if I walked off that lot without bike in hand, so to speak. He didn’t have anything to worry about; it’s not as if I would go running off to some other dealership and begin the stupid credit process and paperwork all over again. I finally got out of there, after exacting a promise from Deke-Boy that my Train would be there in seven days. And Mulder and I laughed all the way home; by then Mulder was so giddy from guffawing that I had to drive.
I found myself driving aggressively, as well… go figure. I could still feel the vibration of it, there between my legs… or maybe what I felt was merely Mulder’s large warm hand curving over my thigh and hovering front and center, before he pressed five fingers of delight into my fly area, and murmured teasingly, “Scully, you’re so tough… you really held your own with that goofy idjit Deke. When I grow up I wanna be just like you…”
I snorted and shook my head, never taking my eyes from the road as I let some images float through my brain – and then at the laugh I let loose, Mulder shook at my leg, and demanded, “What? What’s so funny?”
I spared him one final look as we rolled into Georgetown. “You say you want to be just like me, Mulder? Then I’m trying to imagine you in the feminine hygiene section of the local A&P… searching for dependable overnight protection…”
Well, that was a week ago, as I said. I remember screeching into the first available parking spot and rushing both of us into my building; took Mulder to my apartment and dragged him into my bedroom and removed his and my clothes in record time, and made damn sure his hands went back to holding my breasts as he eased his throbbing ‘engine’ between my eager thighs… still feeling a bit aggressive, Dana?
Oh, yeah. You could say that. Actually I was so unbelievably aroused that I barely kissed him. I think I managed to lock one or two hard, tongue-infested kisses upon Mulder’s luscious lips, before I yanked him underneath me and pressed myself down with one fierce glide which took him so very deep; we both moaned, and I dropped my head onto his shoulder and my mouth latched onto his neck and I moved on him with a single-minded need that blew me away, and took him with me.
His hands held tightly to my hips, thrusting up with each downward slam of my body. It didn’t last very long; I think we had to set some kind of personal record for fast, furious sex. I felt myself splinter all around him and felt a scream bubble up in my throat, probably piercing his eardrum as I let fly with it… right about the time he sent ten bruising fingers into my hip-bones, and the jerking motion of his climax ripped through my still-convulsing body, as he grated out one harsh, “Jesus, SCULLY!” – against my shoulder.
I held it as long as I could, but I was dying fast… and when I finally collapsed on Mulder, he started to laugh, weakly. I couldn’t even raise my head far enough to glare at him, so I just stayed put and croaked out one or two raspy words. “WHAT, Mulder?”
He shook his head against me, and curved his arms around me, cradling me close as I tried to get my trembling under control.
“Shit, Scully… if this is indicative of what our sex life will be like, each time we do it after you’ve ridden your new Night Train…
I think I’m gonna have to invest in mega-vitamins… and a truss…”
I huffed indignantly into his shoulder. “Bite me, Partner…”
He snorted tiredly and yawned through his snappy retort. “Megavitamins first, baby – then we’ll see who bites whom…”
Now I ride with the sun on my face and the wind rippling my clothes; on my way back from Lanham with my new Night Train grasped lovingly between my leather-clad thighs. Yeah, I succumbed… I really did.
I bought a set of chaps before I left the dealership.
I like them; they’re very comfortable, and they look good on me.
Black leather, soft and buttery… Too bad I didn’t also buy a jacket. But there’s plenty of time for that, and I didn’t see one I liked all that much anyway, though Deke tried hard to sell me one.
You’ve got to admire the little worm for trying… well, maybe ‘admire’ is too strong a word. ‘Tolerate’… that’s more like it.
So I enjoy the ride; love it, every mile of it… and I can’t wait to get to Mulder’s place. He’ll be waiting for me outside, dressed in casual clothes – and we’re going to go cruising in the country.
It’s a gorgeous fall day and the leaves are all gold and red and yellow… and he’s been a very, very good boy. He gets to handle my beautiful monster.
I even bought him a helmet.
I wheel up to Mulder’s apartment and there he is, waiting in the sunshine for me… he looks utterly edible. Black bomber jacket, his old beat-up favorite… white tee shirt and if I’m not mistaken…
Oh, God. He remembered. His black leather jeans, the ones I impulsively bought for him several months ago. The ultra-soft ones, with the lace-up fly… mmmm. This is going to be one fantastic day, yessiree…
I let the cycle idle, and smile at the other love of my life, as he walks over to me slowly, hips swaying tightly – he knows he looks great, and he knows I love him like this; hair mussed up and white tee shirt showcasing that tan of his, hazel eyes glowing. He has his hands behind his back, and as he draws near, he lets out one sharp wolf whistle as he calls out to me.
“Hey – Boss Hog, Darlin’… and I see you’ve taught it who its mistress is…”
I laugh and nod, smiling idiotically at him as he leans in and kisses the smile off my lips, then his hands come around me and he drapes something over my shoulders; the surprise he’d been keeping behind his back.
I smell rich new leather and feel it cool and soft against my chin, as I reach out and pluck the jacket from my shoulders, holding it up and admiring it with speechless delight. A beautiful black biker jacket… just what I would have bought for myself. It’s perfect and then as I turn it around to have a look at the back of it, I squeal in shocked glee and fling it and my arms around Mulder, squeezing him tightly… for he’s had a very talented artist embroider a design on the back of the jacket; a design that I immediately recognize.
A deep red-patterned snake, swallowing its tail…
“You like, BikerGal?” Mulder’s grin is huge in his handsome face, and I nod vigorously.
“I love it. I want to know who did it, so I can thank them… and then I want to know how you managed to describe my tattoo in such exacting detail that the artist was able to capture it so perfectly.”
Mulder goes a bit pink in the cheeks, and dummys up on me, refusing to answer right away.
I tug on a lock of his silky hair, demandingly. “Mulder?”
He avoids my eyes for a second or two more, before he finally tells me, reluctantly.
“Well, um… I sort of, um… took a picture of your back, the other night after you’d fallen asleep…” He ducks as his words hit home with me, and I gasp out loud…
TITLE: Leather and Lake-water – A Sequel
Author: Jacquie LaVa
Category: MSR, Humorous Smut
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.
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 of 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.
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…”
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.
“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 refused 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.
TITLE: Hook and Eye
by Jacquie LaVa
(Yet another sequel to my “Lace-Up Fly” universe!)
Rating/Category: R/MSR (naturally)
Disclaimers: Originals to CC, “Lace-up” clones are my own
Note: Just bit of fluff designed to bring nothing more than a flush and a smile, to my IWTB Babies!
This story may be better understood if you have read the “Lace-Up” series, so far: “Lace-up Fly”, “Night Train”, and “Leather and LakeWater”
Thanks to: My darlin Rae and Tam, for needing to be cheered up in the first place, and to Tess, for reading, smiling and supporting!
Hook and Eye
Taynor’s. Why did that name sound familiar?
He stood in front of the store, puzzling as he stared at the elegantly-simple lettering above the wide double doors. He knew he’d heard it before—he looked past the mannequins in the window and that’s when it hit him – he spotted a rack of expensive-looking men’s leather coats…
Leather. His lace-up flys. Scully had bought them here; he remembered the night he modeled them for her; the first night they ever made love… remembered asking her where on earth she’d found them, after they had spent themselves loving each other and the buttery leather was a pile of enticement on the floor next to the bed. She’d mentioned Taynor’s.
He looked in the window again, noting they seemed to sell women’s gear as well as men’s. It had been a while since he’d bought something for the woman he adored; not since her birthday. He loved spoiling her, mostly because she always blushed and stammered when presented with gifts. She wasn’t used to the attention, she always claimed. And her eyes always went the softest shade of blue, when she blushed and stammered –
Mulder grinned as he headed inside.
Five minutes later, he found it. On a rack all by itself, as if waiting just for him to see it. He picked up the hanger and held it aloft, staring at the article of clothing suspended from it. Imagining it on Scully’s creamy skin.
Jesus… champagne lace. Sleeveless. Scoop-necked. Clingy. Sexy as sin… an enticing little shell of a tank top, with a row of silvery hooks and eyes right down the front.
Against her skin that lace would glow. Stretched over her breasts that material would cuddle her like a lover’s palm. Against his mouth those hooks and eyes would come undone in a slow, sensuous rush…
Mulder closed his eyes, right in the middle of the store, and felt the flush of it come over him as he pictured Scully in that little lacy top with the cute hooks and eyes, wearing a matching pair of champagne panties – and nothing else… coming toward him in the soft glow of their bedroom. Closer and closer, her hair a wild tangle of silk around her beautiful face, her lips a rosy pout and her eyes so fiercely blue, her desire a living and breathing animal between them…
His entire body tightened…
“Sir? Um, Sir… did you want to buy that tank?”
The salesclerk’s hesitant query broke into his wanton thoughts and Mulder’s eyes snapped open, glazed over with need. He glanced down at the little salesclerk and she swallowed visibly as the heat in that dilated hazel stare scalded her.
God… to have someone look like that when he was thinking about her… whoever this gorgeous man was dreaming of, that was one damned lucky lady… The male dreamboat standing in front of her opened his mouth, and spoke in a low, hushed rumble.
“Yeah, I do… but only if you sell panties that would match…”
As the salesclerk wrapped the fragile tank and a pair of champagne colored lace panties in violet tissue paper and placed them in a shirt box, Mulder found himself thinking again – how the evening would begin with sweet kisses, extend itself in a delicious dinner and then end with the best ‘dessert’ of all – and the soft voice of the salesclerk broke in once more.
“A gift for someone special?”
Mulder smiled at the young woman and this time she audibly caught her breath, dazzled by the wide, white-toothed smile of a man in utter love. It was so apparent on his face that she felt it almost as an ache. When he nodded happily, she mumbled softly, “How lucky…”, meaning the as-yet proud owner of the sexiest tank in Taynor’s Spring collection, not to mention capturing the attentions of the tall and handsome man who held the box so carefully. And her customer’s equally-soft reply was not lost on her.
“Yes… I am.”
He could hear the shower running as he walked into the bedroom, and the sound of rushing water made him grin. Mulder placed the prettily-wrapped box on a corner of their bed and crossed the room, sitting in the armchair that occupied space between two windows. He wanted to rip off his clothes and join her in the shower. He wanted to anchor himself to her soft and perfumed body and drive himself deep. He wanted to watch the pink-cheeked delight of her face when she opened his gift… he wanted to kiss her other, sweetly-curved cheeks, one by one, as she lay in sprawled abandon beneath him on their bed.
He wanted to do a lot of things, as he forced himself to lounge back in the chair, still fully-dressed. Mostly he wanted to love her endlessly, there on the wide mattress. Or the floor…
Although the smells emanating from the kitchen made his mouth water, for he hadn’t eaten a decent meal all day… the fragrance of Scully’s shower wafted across his twitching nose and obliterated all need for food as viable sustenance. That perfume… Jesus. It was pure Scully; feminine and spicy and clean and so, so potent. It mixed with her body’s natural musk and one whiff of her all clean and damp from the shower never failed to shoot his temperature to the stars. Add to it the matchless mix of champagne lace and a naughty row of silver hooks and eyes…
Shit, who needed food?
Several minutes later the door opened and she walked out, head bent into a towel, drying her wet hair. She wore a pair of simple cotton shorts and one of her exercise tanks, and she walked to her dresser without looking up, not even seeing Mulder until she about tripped over his feet, stretched out in front of him as he sat in the chair and shamelessly ogled her. And when she stumbled into his crossed ankles Mulder was there with long eager arms, catching her and then pulling her into his lap.
Scully shook damp hair out of her eyes and regarded him with surprised pleasure. “Mulder! I didn’t even hear you come in. How long have you been home?”
He buried his nose in her neck and inhaled her until she giggled at the tickling sensation of a 5 o’clock shadow. His words were muffled by the mouthful of her skin that he was trying to swallow.
“Long enough, baby… long enough to know you smell better than any prepared meal. Long enough to hear that shower running and imagining all sorts of naughty imagery, of you standing under that hot spray.”
His low rasp sent a shudder straight through her; Mulder could feel her shiver in his arms. He pulled her tightly against him and dragged a hungry tongue up and down her neck, nibbled at the silky shoulder-skin and let the heat generating in his groin feed up and into her little cotton shorts. Scully sucked in a breath and pressed down upon him. Hard.
She grated out a breathless, “Jesus, Mulder… what have YOU been thinking about, all day? Did you get any work done?” She pushed at his face, dislodging his roaming lips, and stared with loving exasperation into his hot gaze.
Mulder shook his head, completely unrepentant, grinning like a fool. “Nope. Not a damned thing. I sat in the office with a blank spreadsheet in front of me and a pile of folders next to me, and I didn’t do squat. You?” He nuzzled at her throat and Scully stifled a moan. She’d been at Quantico all day, in the cavernous library trying to pull research on an old unsolved case – and Mulder knew what dead-boring work that sort of shit could be, on a warm spring afternoon.
Scully arched her neck, allowing him better access, as she admitted, “No, Mulder. I joined you in the ranks of squat, I’m afraid. I couldn’t concentrate at all. We’re pathetic, you know.” She tilted her head to one side and stared him down, hands slipping into his hair, rubbing at his scalp. Mulder resisted the urge to purr like a cat and instead resumed licking every inch of her collarbone and whatever soft skin he could reach above the loose neckline of the tank.
“You may be pathetic, Scully. Me, I’m just a horny man in love.”
She snickered softly, hugged him hard, arms tightly banding his shoulders, then struggled out of his lap and onto her feet, giggling when he put up a fight and refused to let her go. She managed to get herself upright and was laughingly fending off ten grasping Mulder-fingers, when her eyes fell on the bed and she saw the wrapped box. A quizzical look at her partner revealed an innocent demeanor. She queried, “So, Horny-Man-in-Love… what’s in the box?”
Mulder leaned back in the chair and smirked up at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know. I’ll never tell. You’ll have to torture it outta me,” – this last revelation said with such hopeful inflection that she laughed aloud, and pushed at him playfully. She walked to the bed and picked up the box, shaking it curiously.
“Or I could just sit here and open it, Mulder… bypassing the whole torture thing.” Ignoring his disgruntled, “Spoil-Sport”, Scully perched on the edge of the bed and ripped at the gaily-festooned paper, flipped open the lid of the box; pushed aside the violet tissue…
“Oh my God, Mulder. How did you – I saw this in Taynor’s last week, but it was so expensive… and where on earth did you find matching panties!” She held up the tank, bemused eyes taking in the sheer lace and soft feel of it, then she lifted the tiny panties by a tapered finger and regarded them in awe.
Seeing the silhouette of delicate lingerie against her cheek, the color perfection next to her hair… Mulder figured dinner was going to be a complete wash this evening. He slipped from the chair and prowled over to her on his hands and knees, eyes locked with hers, until he got close enough to push himself up and into her seated body, gripping her shoulders, face to flushed face. He growled, “Put them on, Scully. Now. No bra. Barefoot. And don’t brush your hair. Leave it tangled and wild.” His heated murmur caused a pink flush to race up her neck and suffuse her cheeks with fire.
She gulped, “Okay…”
She tried to wriggle out from underneath him, managed to gain her feet again but Mulder wouldn’t let her get far; with another growl of, “Not yet, baby”, he caught her around the hips with one arm as she stood before him. He tugged aside the little cotton tank with his free hand and leaned in, pushing down the soft and loose elastic of her shorts; pressed his mouth to her taut abdomen right below her navel and an inch or so above her bikini line. She shuddered beneath his mouth. Her fingers released the champagne tank and panties; they fluttered to the floor. His lips curved into a smile as he let his lips trail a little lower, let himself breathe in the scent of her, deeper and richer than the taste of her tummy-skin. He filled his lungs with it while she grasped at his hair and twisted against his face, trying to push herself closer…
When he finally let her go her legs visibly wobbled and her face held a hectic flush. She snatched up the lacy clothing from the floor where she’d dropped them and made it to the bathroom without dripping all over the carpet… and Mulder watched each step she took, with feral eyes. The bathroom door clicked shut. He let out the breath he’d been holding. Damn… she had such a way about her, of getting to him by doing nothing more than being simply Scully. And he was insanely in love with her.
He unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped it off; unfastened his wool slacks. They’d become very stifling – not to mention causing havoc with his vital blood circulation right around the fly area. Leaving the slacks on but unbuttoned, Mulder toed off his shoes and removed his socks. He left his sleeveless tee shirt on, relaxed back onto the bed, propped against a mound of pillows – facing the bathroom door.
Facing his incredibly sexy partner and lover, when she finally emerged from the bathroom and stood framed in the open doorway with the light behind her, setting off the flame of her wild hair.
Jesus Christ… he had no oxygen left with which to breathe; she’d rendered him speechless. His eyes slowly raked her, up and down.
The color of the tank was perfection against her skin; it picked up an almost rosy glow from the lovely complexion it lay against and the result was stunning. The material had a touch of stretch to it, enough to cup and mold her breasts lovingly. Mulder could see the shadow of her nipples under the lace, and he could feel his entire body reach out to those two small spots of darker rose. So fucking gorgeous…
Below the waist-riding tank a strip of creamy flesh revealed itself, narrowing an already narrow waist and accentuating her rounded hips. The panties were by comparison a scrap of sin that barely covered what they needed to and showcased her sweet navel, flat stomach and again just a shadow of the curls nestled between her shapely thighs. Her legs were pressed demurely together, their little-girl stance one unholy temptation… her small bare feet and pink-tipped toes made him smile tenderly, even as the whole picture of her standing there forced desire through every vein in his body and his head spun with the need, to grab her – take her – endlessly, take her…
His voice was one longing rasp of want, rolling over to her as she stood still as a statue and stared at him with eyes gone navy blue. “Get over here, baby.”
Scully’s face flushed even brighter at the suggestive command, but she held her ground, one eyebrow raised. Her lips parted and her retort made Mulder groan aloud.
“Come and get me, Mulder…”
When he suddenly jackknifed off the bed and advanced on her, stalking her, Mulder had the supreme satisfaction of seeing her eyes go wide and her body jerk backwards, up and into the doorway jamb.
Mulder reached around her, pulling the door shut behind her, then he pushed himself into her lace-covered breasts and pinned her to the door. Forced a gasp from her compressed lungs. Rubbed his cotton-knit chest into her cute little silvery hooks and eyes, marching down the front of her champagne-lace torso. Set himself instantly aflame, down in his unbuttoned and now unzipped wool slacks. God – When Scully’s hand slipped into the opening she’d just assisted in creating, Mulder pressed a damp forehead against her temple and hissed out, “Go easy down there, Scully – I’m so close -”
Her stifled chuckle tickled his ear. “I have no sympathy whatsoever for you, Mulder. You started this. And what about my dinner? It can’t wait forever, you know.”
The snap of her words was belied by the curve of the smile Mulder felt against his lobe. He pushed suggestively against her soft palm, shimmying his hips a bit, torturing himself. He looked down into her flushed cheeks and queried, “Smells like Italian. Lasagna?”
She shook her head, then bit into his bottom lip with gentle teeth.
“No. Eggplant Parmesan.”
Mulder nodded in relief, feeling less guilty about the possibility of ruining all of Scully’s hard culinary work. “Good. Then it can be reheated easily enough. Still unsympathetic, baby?”
She curled a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers once more, kissing him softly as her other hand wrapped around the Erection from Hell, down in the humid climate of his wool slacks. She whispered, “Well, not so much sympathetic as horny, Mulder. I’m sure you can relate…”
Mulder was delighted. “Ooo, Scully… are you Horny-Woman-In-Love?”
She laughed breathlessly when the hug he gave her squeezed the rest of the air from her champagne lace tank.
“Oh, yeah… I definitely am…”
Someone turned off the oven – though he didn’t remember letting her go, long enough to do it. Somebody lit candles in the bedroom, placing them at strategic points where the glow would pick up every strand of fire in her hair – but Mulder couldn’t recall if the task had been completed by him. He only knew that candlelight flickered in a room that smelled faintly of oregano and spicy tomato, mingling with the spice of Scully’s skin – and the combination was oddly erotic.
He only cared that Scully stood before him in skimpy lace and silvery hooks and eyes, her hair a tangle of red around her face and her eyes watching him with tenderness as he leaned into her and carefully released each little hook from its little eye, with his teeth. A few of them opened easily enough, others were stubborn – and since his hands refused to let go of her lace-covered cheeks as he labored over her fastenings… Scully was being very helpful and assisting him where needed.
When all the hooks were opened and her breasts at last revealed to him, she started to wriggle out of the tank, only to pause when Mulder murmured hoarsely, “No. Leave it open – hanging open. I want to kiss it off your body. Then I’m going to eat those panties right off your pretty little curls, baby…” He pushed his face between her breasts and Scully shivered; her moan became words uttered into the air above his dark head.
“God, Mulder! – Who knew you liked lace so much?”