From: Plausible Deniability <pdeniability@hotmail.com>
Date: Sun, 18 Apr 1999 20:00:19 EDT
Subject: NEW: *NC-17* Bedside Manners

BEDSIDE MANNERS

Title:  Bedside Manners (1/1)

Author:  Plausible Deniability

Address: pdeniability@hotmail.com

Archive:  freely

Category: S, some H

Rated:  NC-17 for gratuitous sex

Spoilers:  Oblique reference to "Triangle"

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television program 
"The X Files" are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox 
Broadcasting, and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without 
permission.  No copyright infringement is intended. 

Summary:  Mulder experiences a little sexual healing.

THANKS to Becky, who nags in the most welcome way, and Dasha, who is 
always worth waiting for.

----

"Mulder, this place is a mess," said Scully, moving the beam of her 
flashlight slowly around the darkened attic.

"I don't think banshees are really noted for their housekeeping."  He 
stepped carefully past her.  "Maybe if it sucked the soul out of 
Martha Stewart..."

"I think that's already been done, Mulder."

He smiled, and moved further into the cluttered attic.

"Watch out," Scully said.  "This floor has seen better days."

"This whole house has seen better days," Mulder said, stepping over a 
steamer trunk.  "It reminds me of my grandmother's attic."

"Did people hear howls coming from your grandmother's attic too?"

"Only the time my grandmother caught me playing doctor with the girl 
next door."  He swung his flashlight to an old painted screen leaning 
against the wall.  "Did you ever play doctor, Scully?"

"I'm still playing doctor, Mulder.  You just didn't have enough stick-
to-it-iveness.  If you'd hung in there and gone to medical school you 
could have gotten a paycheck for it."  She watched as he advanced 
toward a mound of boxes and debris.  "The floor looks really bad over 
there, Mulder."

"It's not the floor I'm worried about," he said.  "Just remember, 
Scully:  if a bat flies into someone's face, any screaming that 
results is purely -- "

And that was the last thing Mulder said before the boards beneath him 
gave way with a crash, and he dropped suddenly into blackness.

****

He opened his eyes to sunshine, clean sheets, and the smell of 
antiseptic.

A hospital room, he thought, looking around at the mostly bare walls, 
the window with its institutional blinds, and the pitcher of water on 
the table by the bed.  Not the NICU or SICU, just a plain semi-private 
room.  It was a good sign.

And he was alone.  That was good, too, in a way.  Surely Scully would 
have been sitting with him and keeping watch if his injuries had been 
at all serious.  She would never leave for coffee or to take care of 
his paperwork unless he was essentially unharmed.

But his head certainly did hurt.  He reached up and gingerly touched 
the spot that seemed to mark the center of the throbbing.  Beneath his 
hair he could feel the swell of a sizable bump.  He must have landed 
right on his head.  He was probably lucky he hadn't broken his neck.

A soft click drew his eyes to the door.  The doorknob was turning.  He 
lifted his head a little and readied a smile for Scully.

But instead of Scully, a tall brunette nurse came through the door.  
She was dressed in a starched white uniform.  

She saw him looking at her and smiled.  "Well, well, well," she said 
brightly.  "We're awake already, are we?" 

"Yes.  Where's Agent Scully?"

"Agent Scully?"

"My partner.  She wasn't hurt too, was she?"

The nurse shook her head.  "No, not as far as I know.  She's probably 
gone to get herself some dinner."

"Do you think you could find out -- "

"Now, Mr. Mulder, we'll worry about all that later.  Right now I need 
to check your condition."  She moved briskly over to the bed.

"My head hurts."

"That's to be expected," the nurse said.  "Let's see how we're 
recovering..."

He watched her warily.  She began unbuttoning the front of her 
uniform.

He struggled up onto his elbows.  "What are you doing?

She ignored him, her fingers progressing efficiently down the line of 
buttons.

"I said, what are you doing?" 

"Please, Mr. Mulder.  You can ask all the questions you like later.  
I'm trying to conduct an examination."

"But why are you unbuttoning -- "

"Shhhhh," said the nurse with an annoyed look.

He broke off and regarded her in some confusion.  She reached for his 
hand, and lifted it to where her breast swelled above the confines of 
her bra.

"Hey!" he said.

"Quiet, please."  She pressed his fingers firmly against her soft warm 
flesh.

"Stop that!" he said, trying to tug his hand away.

"Mr. Mulder!" she scolded.  "Try not to be such a difficult patient."

"But you're putting my hand on your breast -- !"  He looked wildly 
about the room for some support, some show of shared outrage, but he 
was completely alone with the nurse. 

She frowned at him.  "Who's the medical professional here, you or me?" 

He gazed up into her disapproving face and for an instant he felt a 
stir of doubt.

"That's better," she said, with a brusque, businesslike smile.  "Now 
tell me if this hurts."

She took his hand and slipped it inside her bra, so that his fingers 
slid over her hardened nipple.

"Hey!" he said, jerking his hand back.

"Ah, so it does hurt," she said with a grave look.  "I was afraid of 
that."

"It didn't hurt!" he said.  "It's just that you -- you -- "

"No sense pretending you're healthy when you aren't," the nurse 
sighed.  "You're going to need intensive therapy, I can see that 
already."

"Therapy?  What kind of therapy?"

"I'll have to complete my examination before I can be sure."  She 
reached for the sheet that was covering him, and peeled it down.  He 
was wearing a typical hospital gown, short and thin and open in the 
back.  He found himself wishing suddenly that it were an armored Haz 
Mat suit.

"What are you going to do?" he said in a squeak.

"Just relax, Mr. Mulder.  You need to let me check you out."

She started down near his foot, bending and flexing his ankle.  Good, 
he thought desperately, his foot was good.  Nothing dangerous there.  
She was probably just making sure nothing was sprained or broken.

But she progressed directly from his foot to his shin, and then to his 
knee.  Her fingers were cool and impersonal, running lightly over him, 
tracing from the outside to the inside of his leg.  Soon her efficient 
hands were working their way up his thigh.  He watched with fearful 
eyes, steeling himself not to move a muscle.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked, breathing hard.  "Where is the 
doctor?"

The nurse frowned.  "Please, Mr. Mulder, save your questions for when 
I'm done."

Done?  What was that supposed to mean?  Just what was she planning to 
do?

But he had his answer in the next instant, when her hand crept under 
his hospital gown.

"Oh my God!" he said, sitting bolt upright as her fingers closed 
around him.  "Jesus!  What are you doing?"

She set her left hand on the middle of his chest and pushed him 
strongly back down on the bed.  "Lie still, Mr. Mulder," she ordered.  
"Let's have a little cooperation, if you don't mind."

"But I -- I -- "

The words strangled in his throat as her hand tightened around him and 
she began to employ what appeared to be a very practiced hand job 
technique.  "Stop that," he gasped, meaning to sound firm and in 
charge.  Unfortunately the only firm thing about his protest was his 
cock, which was growing hard in her hand despite all his determination 
to the contrary.

"Stop it," he said weakly, his throbbing head spinning.  
"Stop...it..."

He closed his eyes and his voice trailed off as he fought off a wave 
of light-headedness.  She was a big strapping woman, an Amazon, and 
his head ached so badly he couldn't put two words together.  Besides, 
as much as he wanted to deny it, familiar waves of pleasure were 
rocketing through him with every stroke.  It all felt rather like a 
dream.

Like a dream...?  Of course -- a dream!  He had fallen through the 
attic floor and hit his head, and now this was all a dream.  None of 
this was really happening!  The nurse with her heaving bosom was 
nothing but a figment of his imagination; her hand wrapped around him 
was nothing but a trick of his brain.  He had made that crack to 
Scully about playing doctor, and now thanks to the blow to his head he 
was adrift in a rather satisfying fantasy.

Well, he was no fool.  If this was nothing but a dream, he might as 
well make the most of it.  Instead of fighting it, he was going to 
join in with gusto.

"Wow," he said, finding his voice again.  "Oh, wow.  That's good."

The nurse looked at him in surprise, almost as if she had forgotten 
that he was there.  "Is it, Mr. Mulder?  And what about this?"

"Oh, Jesus, yes," he breathed, as she added a variation to her 
technique.

And then it struck him that, since it was only a dream anyway, he 
might as well be a more active participant in what was happening.  He 
reached up and pulled the nurse into his bed.  She landed solidly on 
top of him.

Her eyes grew round.  "Mr. Mulder!"

Wow, he thought, this was a pretty good dream.  It felt so real.  Her 
weight on him was deceptively substantial, her breasts insistent 
against his chest.  She was tall and her legs stretched out along his 
own, matching them inch for inch until finally hers ended in a pair of 
stiletto heels.  Oh, god bless head injuries...

"Mr. Mulder -- please!" she said, frowning down at him.  "I'm trying 
to conduct my examination."

But, like any good delusion, she made no move to get out of the bed.  
Instead her hand went back to its maddening rhythm.  This kind of 
health care, he thought, was worlds away from taking two aspirin and 
calling Scully in the morning.

If only..., Mulder thought with growing abandon.  If only Scully were 
here instead.  Or maybe not instead -- maybe also.  Yes, Nurse Handjob 
and Doctor Scully, that would make for a really great delusion, a 
Mulderpatient sandwich, the kind of thing that put Nazis and ghost 
ships to shame.

"Oh, God," he groaned as the nurse continued pumping him, her hand 
tight and moving fast.

He closed his eyes and tried very hard to conjure up Scully.  It was 
his delusion; he ought to be able to people it with the women of his 
choice.  But he was dizzy and with the nurse pressed against him on 
the bed, sensation knifing through him, he could not concentrate.

"That's so good," he breathed to the nurse, his hips jerking.  A 
moment later he tensed and blurted out, "Oh, God -- here it comes."

And that was the exact moment, of course, that Scully came charging 
through the door.

****

It was also, as Mulder would forever recall with gratitude, the exact 
moment that the nurse let go of him, grabbed the privacy curtain that 
hung beside the hospital bed, and efficiently yanked it closed to 
screen them both from view.

"Mulder?" he heard Scully call.  "Are you in here?  Are you awake?"

"Oh, God -- " he choked, throwing his head back against the pillow in 
a combination of physical ecstasy and mental horror.  On the one hand, 
orgasmic shudders wracked his body.   On the other hand, something in 
Scully's tentative call told him this was not dream.  

The nurse vaulted off the bed and ducked behind it.  Mulder looked 
over at her in surprise.  She lifted a finger to her lips in a plea 
for silence.

"Mulder?" Scully called again from the other side of the curtain.  
"Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said, raising his head in bewilderment and gingerly touching 
his fingers to the sticky streaks on his abdomen.  "I'm fine..."

"Are you alone?"

Mulder looked over at the nurse.  "Umm...what?"

He heard footsteps as Scully came closer.  He quickly pulled the 
covers up over himself, grimacing a little at the way the sheet clung 
wetly to his stomach. 

"Is someone in there with you, Mulder?" Scully asked.

The nurse shook her head frantically.  Mulder wasn't sure whether to 
answer.

Without warning Scully's small hand gripped the edge of the privacy 
curtain, and whipped it open with a rattle of curtain rings.  The 
nurse gave a small scream and covered her face with her hands. 

Scully's eyes went absolutely round.  She scrambled for her gun.  
Mulder, completely confused, said a silent prayer of thanks that he'd 
at least had the presence of mind to pull up the sheet.

Scully jabbed her gun in the direction of the nurse.  "Come out with 
your hands up!" she shouted.  She looked furious, her face red.

Mulder suspected his own face was rather red, too.  "What the hell is 
going on?" he asked weakly.  At least, he thought, he had beaten 
Scully to the question.

"Come out of there," Scully shouted at the nurse.  "NOW!"

Slowly, the nurse got to her feet.  She wore a sulky expression.  "I 
was only giving him some proper medical attention."

"Keep your hands up and come slowly around the bed toward me," Scully 
barked.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Mulder for the second time.

Scully stalked to the nurse and expertly patted her down.  "Did she 
hurt you, Mulder?"

"Uh...not really..."

"She's a patient here, a prisoner from the county jail.  This is a 
ward for head injury patients," Scully explained.

"Of course."  Mulder closed his eyes in weary acceptance.  Of course 
she was a head injury patient.  How else would he possibly get lucky?

"We've been searching for this woman for two hours.  The whole staff 
has been out looking."  Scully snapped her handcuffs on the tall 
brunette's wrists, and pushed her with atypical roughness toward the 
door.  "I didn't even know you were conscious."

"Neither did I," Mulder mumbled.

"I'll be right back," Scully said, marching the woman out in front of 
her.  

"Take your time."

Scully gave him an exasperated look on her way out.  The door swung 
closed behind her.

Mulder sighed, and reached for the box of Kleenex by the bed.  He took 
a tissue out and reached under the sheet to wipe at the cold spot on 
his abdomen.

Suddenly the door swung open again, causing him to start guiltily.  

Scully stuck her head back in the room.  "Mulder?" she said.

"Yeah?"

She smiled at him fondly.  "I'm sorry you missed all the excitement."

****

END