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Straight Out Of The 3-Pack

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“I want you to look at something,” Scully said, visibly trembling. Mulder stepped forward to search beyond her, squinting into the darkness downstairs.

“No,” she scolded him, her voice completely different now. She sounded annoyed, no longer scared. He frowned and tilted his head at her questioningly.

“Can I come in?” She was back to looking anxious.

Mulder had no idea what was happening. “Scully, of course you can come in, it’s our bedroom.”

Her face returned to a mildly put out expression. Her head fell slightly to one side. “No, Mulder,” she annunciated slowly. “It’s your motel room. In Bellefleur.” Her eyes widened meaningfully.

Oh.

Oh

The fear in her eyes and her voice returned as she asked once more if she could come in.

Mulder pulled open the door and Scully rushed past him into the room. He turned to face her and she looked at him, motionless, both hands on the tie of the robe belt. She was waiting for something.

Oh, right, he had lines, he guessed.

“So, uh, what did you want to show me, Agent Scully?” He nodded at her, pleased with himself.

She wasn’t so pleased. 

“Agent Mulder.” She was using the voice she reserved for suffering fools not so gladly. “The door?”

“Right, right, yes, the door to the motel room. Better shut that. It’s pouring out there.” He raised a self aware eyebrow at her. He’d remembered.

“A veritable monsoon…” She hinted at a smile. Remembered herself, set her face to panicked green newbie field-agent once again.

“So what did you want me to look at, Agent Scully?” Using her title like that felt so formal. It felt like old old times. 

It felt fucking hot. 

Scully’s eyes were wide, her face deadly serious. There was no camping this up; she was one hundred percent in the scene. She was a surprisingly good actress. He’d have to ask her later if she’d had some sort of teenaged community theatre career he didn’t know about. 

But now she spun away from him, one hand pressed to her lips with apparent trepidation. There was a beat, and he saw her hands busy in front of her, untying the belt to her dark vermilion robe.

She opened the gown and let it fall dramatically down over her back, past her posterior and below her knees, the sleeves delicately captured on each wrist. 

Mulder felt himself start to give her a one-man standing ovation.

Underneath, she had on her plainest white bra, the one she wore under tight t-shirts to avoid any texture showing through: delicate lace trim icing each cup like pretty little cakes, but the rest of the fabric smooth and untroubled. Mulder’s eyes fell to the washed out cotton covering her rear end and he couldn't help but smile. 

The Hanes panties.

French cut high on her thigh. Plain white elastic waistband almost an inch thick sinking down into a V above her pubic bone. Baggy and stretched and achingly naive. Not a single sexy thing about them.

Mulder had never been so hard.

Scully reached back and pushed the waistband down a touch with both hands, craning her neck around to look at the small of her back. His eyes followed.

Oh my god she’s even drawn on the insect bites.

If it were possible for Mulder to fall deeper in love with Scully, his long-time all-consuming constant, it happened in that moment. 

He’d waited a second too long and she looked up at him, breaking character to flash him a look, prompting him from the wings.

He collected himself and kneeled down behind her, close to her body. His nose detected the slightly musty scent of the panties, confined as they had been for seventeen years to their shoebox prison. They were looser now than he recalled from Oregon, and he didn’t think it was because they’d been stretched out from wear. 

He held up the candle, the warmth of the flame licking his face, its wavering light dancing on the pale, soft skin and fine silken hairs of Scully’s lower back, illuminating the large red dots that he could now see had been inked into place with one of his office Bics. He ignored the top half of the self-consuming snake that circled out from beneath the waistband elastic. He would never admit it out loud but that tattoo still stung like hell.

“What are they?!” Scully’s voice quivered, and Mulder’s three centre fingers delicately touched the space below the dots, as he remembered them doing on the night in question. 

Scully felt Mulder’s fingertips warm on her skin. His hot breath tickled her back and it was not only the intention to appear fearful that caused her next sentence to spill out breathlessly.

“Mulder, what are they?”

He stood up slowly and with a straight face to announce them mosquito bites.

Scully let her shoulders fall, still looking at Mulder over her right one.

“You’re sure?”

He smiled now. “Yeah, I’m covered in them myself.”

Scully flipped her robe back up to her shoulders, holding it closed with her hands, and twisted around into his arms, pressing herself hard against his body in her reenactment of relief. Mulder held the candle away from her hair, so as not to ignite anything more than Scully had intended.

She leaned into his embrace, burying her face in his armpit. In this hidden position, Scully smiled to herself upon feeling the successful results of her little scene pulsing against her stomach. She inhaled a mouthful of Mulder’s underarm and was mildly disappointed that his recent shower had robbed her of a stronger hit of his musky, spiced scent.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

She was quiet. 

“Agent Scully?” he pressed.

She lifted her face, calmer now but still nervous-seeming, and answered him in a higher, softer register than he’d grown used to.

“I’m still a little shaken up. Can you hold me a while longer?”

Mulder agreed with an enthusiastic yes, then thought better of it: did a second take. “Of course Dana, take your time.” 

He was enjoying this immensely.

He rubbed her back, smoothing the fabric of the bathrobe over her shoulder blades, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the undulating contact of her torso against his own, as always. As he had even in 1992.

“I was so scared,” Scully continued. “I thought…” She trailed off. Began again. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I just-” she was winding her arms around his waist, pressing her pelvis closer to his thigh, caressing his chest with her cheek. Her robe fell open now that she wasn’t clutching it with her hands. He swallowed hard.

“I just need to feel safe right now.”

“Of course,” Mulder nodded.

Scully shivered.

“I’m a little cold. My hair is still wet from the rain. Would you mind if we got under the covers to warm up? You could still hold me.”

“To make you feel safe.”

“Yes.” She looked at him, her ice-blue irises capturing his attention and holding it long after she looked away. It hadn’t occurred to him before how much she now looked like his long-ago first impression of her, with her newly returned side part and her long bob. A few more lines around the eyes, mouth and chin perhaps, but barely. Her lack of visible aging was an X-File in itself. 

She let go of his waist and turned to the bed, pulling back the comforter and climbing in. She held the covers up as Mulder rested the candle on the bedside table, as far away from the bedding as he could manage without risking it falling off, then let him slide in alongside her. He nestled back amongst the pillows. Their legs entwined, out of sight beneath the sheets, and she leant her head on his shoulder, encased in the crook of his left arm.

Her robe was still unsecured and Mulder felt the touch of her bare skin on his pants leg from her balmy inner thigh all the way down to her bony ankle and arctic feet.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little better, thank you Agent Mulder,” she responded in a near whisper, tilting her head up to regard him.  

Scully looked at Mulder’s graying hairline. She hadn’t been lying earlier; he was still, she felt, objectively handsome. His beauty was more rugged now; weathered where it had once been pure matinee idol, but he was still breathtaking to behold - at least for her, anyway. She gazed at the deepening furrows that marked his forehead, the slight droop around his mandible and the vague puffiness around his eyes. But what she saw was a floppy dark fringe falling broodingly across smooth soft skin. Youthful ebullience, shining black eyes and taut, elastic epidermis. 

His lips had never changed. Soft, pouty, full and pink. Wet and wanting. Not unlike herself in this moment, she smiled while thinking. She would never tire of those lips.

She ran her eyes over them now.

“So, Agent Mulder,” she said, starting to glide her free hand over his collarbone in an absentminded fashion, “How are you finding working with a partner?”

“It’s proving to have its perks.” Mulder shifted his body against the mattress, his erection pounding palpably. The tip of his penis moved against the coarse weave of his pants, and he felt himself already oozing his desire.

“I know you didn’t want me.” Scully was saying. She moved her hand lower, her palm grazing his right nipple, sending shockwaves straight to his tensing cock. “A scientist. A first time field-agent. A woman.” She lowered her voice on the last words and tilted her hips towards him so that even through the thick material of his slacks he could sense her heat, could feel her rapidly dampening vulva sliding against the bloodstained gusset of those infernal panties. He wanted to rip them off.

2018 Mulder would already have had those panties on the floor, assuming this was his Scully, now. But 1992 Mulder had no claim to her: no unspoken right to touch her at all. Also, this wasn’t his scenario to take charge of.

“It’s not that I didn’t want you,” he protested weakly. She had her hand on his abs now, her fingers dipping into the definition there as they roamed. “They sent someone to keep an eye on me. Nobody wants to be spied on.”

“Some people like it, I hear.” Scully said, smiling shyly even as she pushed her crotch perceptiply closer to his body, creating pressure against his outer thigh that she held for a few seconds before relenting.

“Well, not like that - not like this - anyway,” he managed to get out in a gruff voice.

Scully removed her hand from his stomach, lifted it to her lapel and ran her fingers down the centre of the gown on one side. As she went, she pushed the comforter back with her forearm and lifted the deep ruby fabric to reveal her scantily clad body beneath, folding the rose-colored flannel onto itself and letting it rest atop her curves, exaggerated as they were by her sideways position. The robe fell backwards away from her and she was exposed to her knees.

“What about now?” she asked, bare faced.

“What about now?” he questioned, not masking the fact that his gaze was absorbing every luminous square inch of her that he could see.

She sat up, letting the robe drop from her shoulders once more and settle on the mattress. She lifted one leg over his hips and kneeled astride his groin, her sex boldly pressing against the bulge in his pants.

“Do you want me now?” Her eyelids were heavy, her mouth falling wantonly open. She raised herself and unabashedly rubbed her swollen clitoris along the length of his dick. A hushed moan escaped her lips.

“Very much.” Mulder said, finally reaching his hands up to touch her. He grabbed her around the ribcage and pulled her slight, panting frame towards him. She flung her arms around his neck, burying them in the folds of the pillows behind him as their mouths met - feverish, feral.

Hot breath dampened their faces as they engaged in frottage with the wild abandon of two college kids. Scully sat up and away from him, her long pale neck exposed as she bit her lower lip, tilted her head back, and ground herself into his lap. Her ever-present gold cross glinted in the candlelight. She moaned again, and Mulder answered her in turn.

Dropping her gaze to meet his eyeline, her pupils dilated with desire, she reached down to his waist and unbuttoned his pants. He helped with the zipper and she leaned to one side, balancing on her right knee so that he could remove them. Scully saw he hadn’t paired them with any underwear and puffed out air from the back of her throat in appreciation. He’d done good.

“These too,” she instructed, pushing back the sleeves of his dress shirt that was still undone, and letting him wriggle his arms out before lifting the hem of his t-shirt over his head and shoulders. She dropped them both to the floor and returned to her earlier position, straddling him.

“We’re breaking a lot of rules here,” Mulder said, palming her waistline, sliding his hand behind her to cup her ass, pulling her closer to his reaching cock. “Fraternization of male and female agents in the same motel room while on assignment is a serious infraction.”

Scully panted again, closing her eyes.

“We’re way past fraternization, Agent Mulder.” Her voice was breathy and distracted as she dragged her body against his, slowly, creating delicious friction against his groin with her own. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure once I submit my report it will confirm their suspicions that you’re bat crap crazy, you’ll be fired, and I’ll be reassigned to something far more prestigious. I give us two weeks together, tops.”

“Well, I could do this for two weeks, I guess.” He grinned.

She smiled, all tiny teeth and pink gums; her eyes fluttering open, barely.

The only barrier between them now was the godforsaken panties. Mulder hooked his index fingers into the waistband and held them there.

“Now, do these mean-” He eyed her playfully. “Are you-” He sought for the most delicate words. “Do we need to be imaginative?”

Scully opened her eyes fully now, leaned down to his ear and smiled. “Sometimes, Agent Mulder,” her words and the damp waves of her hair tickled the side of his face, “When someone tells you to meet them at the airport the following day at six o'clock in the morning, you just don’t have enough time to launder all your best delicates beforehand.”

Mulder pulled sharply outwards with his forefingers and the tired cotton tore loudly on both sides. He grabbed her around the waist with one arm, pulling her close and lifting her so that he could pull the now truly ruined panties from her body with the other hand, flinging them towards the closet. Scully shrieked with girlish laughter, surprised and aroused in equal measure, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

He sat her back down on his lap, having levitated her effortlessly, and reached up for her face. He held her jawline in both hands as he kissed her, deep and full. Her hair fell forwards, ensconcing them behind their own red velvet curtain. He could feel her labia, soaked and plump, sliding against his rock hard shaft. They reached down in tandem and guided him into her body.

Scully sunk down slowly, enjoying the sensation of every inch as she stretched to accommodate his girth. Her breath hitched as his tip hit her cervix. She pulled back and then ground her hips forward to feel him fill her again. 

She moaned: guttural, gasping.

“Oh my god, Scully, you’re beautiful.” Mulder gushed, letting her fuck him at her own pace as he concentrated on the hot, wet muscles gliding against and simultaneously gripping the straining veined sides of his throbbing, aching dick.

“Agent Scully,” she reminded him, breathlessly, grabbing his hands and bringing them to her breasts, still nestled within her most sensible bra. He kneaded the fleshy mounds, her taut nipples pushing against his palms through the fabric. She arched her back and whispered his name, complete with Bureau title, and he almost came right then.

Soon, Scully was riding him like her life depended on it, thrusting and panting, frowning and moaning. She’d had her eyes squeezed shut but now snapped them open, seeking his gaze. She took him by both shoulders, and he knew what that meant.

With a look of concentrated effort, she rose and fell, his body disappearing over and over inside her own. 

“Mulder,” she said, looking almost pained. “I need your help.”

He didn’t correct her for not saying Agent.

He lifted his thumb to his mouth, rubbing it against his tongue to collect moisture, and reached down for her clitoris. It was hot and engorged, dripping wet already, and he easily located it even as she thrusted onto him repeatedly with considerable force. He swirled his digit around the turgid bundle of nerves in a circular motion and Scully’s mouth fell fully open.

Mulder, Mulder, Mulder,” she incanted in a hushed voice, and he felt his testicles pull up tighter into his body.

She rocked her pelvis towards him with a strong push and took him fully inside her, then leaned back so that she could feel his cock sliding forcefully against her G-spot, pumping vigorously, looking to the ceiling, gripping his shoulders with all the strength in her small hands. Mulder worked his thumb furiously. He slipped his other hand inside her bra and pinched her nipple with care, wary of any pregnancy-related soreness. 

Jesus. Fuck. Oh my god. Fuck, fuck fuuuuuuuuu-” Scully’s mouth froze open and her inner muscles convulsed around him. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Mulder watched Scully in her ecstasy and released everything he had to give into her hot, tight body.

They came the way they’d always done everything best: together.

As their bodies calmed down following the finale, Mulder rolled Scully onto her back and propped himself up on one elbow, so as to avoid creating a wet spot, at least immediately. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and he remained inside her, her Kegels pulsating sporadically, tugging at him invitingly.

She pulled one leg back by the ankle, stretching out her quadricep and wincing slightly before relaxing back into position.

“So, Agent Mulder,” she said in a melodic tone, returning from her momentary offstage respite. Apparently there was an epilogue. “Do you think you can trust me, now?”

Mulder smiled; his teeth showing, his cheeks rounding. “Trust you?” He asked. “Hell no. You’re clearly a honeytrap sent by that mysterious tobacco fiend to trick me into spilling all my secrets. You’ll get nothing out of me, Agent Scully.” He nudged her nose with his own and tickled her collarbone. She pushed his hand away, trying not to laugh.

“But what will I put in my report?” Her coquettish voice and swiftly batting eyelashes indicated she was no longer so deeply invested in the reality of the roleplay.

“Hmm.” Mulder considered this for a moment. “Why don’t you tell them I’m an illustrious expert in the globally respected art of cunnilingus?”

“But Agent Mulder-” she responded in the same sing-song fashion, toying with the hair above his temple; twisting it around her pointer finger. “I have no proof of that.”

“Well then-” Mulder pinned her left arm to the mattress and a sharp intake of air caught in her throat. “We’d better give you some irrefutable evidence, hadn’t we?”

Scully raised her eyebrows, most definitely not in disagreement. 

He lifted his hips from her own, regretting the coldness that met his softening shaft, but very much looking forward to the task ahead of him. He crawled backwards, kicking the covers away from his feet as he lowered his mouth to its paradisiacal destination. Scully pulled the robe over her chest to keep off the chill. She let her head fall to one side and sighed as Mulder’s lips and tongue clamped onto her still sensitive clitoris. 

He really was exceptionally good at this, his tongue flat and firm as it twisted and rolled over her hardened pink bud, his chin pressing and writhing between her sopping wet lips as she tilted her hips up to receive more of the insistent pressure - and it was not long at all before she was tensing her thighs and pushing her legs down into the mattress as she orgasmed forcefully and for the second time, pressed hard against Mulder’s face.

After letting her ride the waves of pleasure to the last reluctant twitch, Mulder reversed his crawl, wiping his chin with one hand and tossing aside the robe before kissing Scully’s stomach, ribs, breasts, and the soft spot on her neck on his return journey. 

He kneeled above her, supporting himself on thick, tensed arms. “Put that in your little report, Agent Scully.” He grinned down at her. 

“I just might,” she sighed with a happy smile. 

“Although may I humbly suggest a more, shall we say, alluring choice of undergarments for your next target? I don’t think you’ll get very far in your espionage career if your best weapon is straight out of the 3-pack.”

Scully stared up at him, her face unreadable. “Oh I don’t know,” she said, touching the inside of his wrist. “They worked on you. Eventually.

Mulder’s eyes crinkled as he smiled back at her, shaking his head in reverie, taking in her delicate Titian beauty in the flickering candlelight. “Eventually,” he agreed, rolling to one side to lie beside her.

Taking him into her arms, she pulled the comforter over them both and tapped the dip where her torso met her arm, indicating that he should lay his head there. He did as instructed, winding his free arm around her waist and wedging his hand between her naked skin and the mattress.

“Happy anniversary, Mulder.” she murmured, sleepily. 

Anniversary? Oh, crap. The show was over.

“That’s today?” He asked. “I’m sorry - I didn’t get you anything.”

“Since when do we do anniversary gifts Mulder?” She traced the muscles of his biceps lightly with her fingernails. Her eyes were already closed. “I didn’t give you anything either.”

“Oh but you did, Agent Scully.” He lightly sunk his teeth into her shoulder. “You really did.” She emitted a high-pitched squawk and curled closer to him laughingly, nuzzling her cheek against the top of his head. She rested her hand on his elbow, her fingertips circling the rough skin there.

“I want to give you the perfect gift, Scully,” he vowed. “You deserve it.”

At this, she opened her eyes. Tilted his head up by the chin and stared at him meaningfully. 

“Well...” 

She gently lifted his hand and pulled it down to her bare stomach, laying it flat just above the petite tuft of soft brown curls.

“I’m hoping...” she said, her eyes glistening in the light from the tiny flame. “-and praying...” She kissed him gently, quietly, then tucked her head next to his, her eyes closing once more. “-that maybe you already did.”

Mulder blew out the candle and silently thanked the stars shining down on him through the skylight.