From: Melynda Jensen <melyndajensen@juno.com>
Date: Wed, 16 Sep 1998 13:35:14 -0700
Subject: NEW: "The Coat" -- Skinner/Scully NC-17

Please send any feedback to melyndajensen@juno.com

Rating: NC17

Category: S

Keywords: Skinner/Scully

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimers:  (with apologies to the BSA) On my honor I will do my best
to do my duty to God and my country, obey the Scout Law, and just borrow
Skinner and Scully from Chris Carter and 1013 Productions for a little
while and return them intact at the end of the story.    

Summary: Skinner to the rescue, a certain article of clothing, and
Scully's active imagination.


The Coat
by Melynda Jensen

Skinner got out of the car and walked towards Scully, anger clear in his
measured stride.  

She ignored him and addressed the police officer.  "During the arrest,
did you notice any--"

"Agent Scully."  She refused to respond to the tone in his voice, but
the officer looked past her shoulder at the man behind her,
relinquishing the discussion to him.  At that moment she hated the AD,
how his physical presence could intimidate like that with just two words
and a glare.  

She didn't turn.  "Sir."

"Walk with me."  

She pushed past him and walked back to his car, then stared up at him
defiantly.  "Yes?"

"I thought I made myself clear," he said in a low, intense voice.  "You
were *not* to continue further with this investigation."

"You gave me the order but not the reason behind it," she answered as
evenly as she could.  "Given the nature of this case and the absence of
any compelling reason to terminate the investigation--"

"I don't have to justify anything to you.  And you're bound by oath to
follow my orders."

She returned his glare, fire to his ice.  "I'm an agent because the
Bureau trusts me, with my training *and* my instincts, to think for
myself when I'm in the field.  There's something going on here and I
don't need a supervisor on a power trip thinking he can pull my
strings--"

He bent closer, saying harshly, "Listen to me!  This is not about petty
politics."   His voice dropped even lower.  "This is about your career,
and your life."

Scully stared up at Skinner, his words and expression sluicing her
rebellious anger away, and she could feel fear starting to rise.  "I
don't understand."

"The moment they see you here--"

"Who?  Why do you think anyone's watching--"

Suddenly she felt his hand on her back, shoving her against him as he
turned aside and opened his black overcoat to conceal her.  Scully
clutched at him, off balance, but his hand steadied her, pressing her
more firmly against his starched shirt.  

"What's happening?" she whispered, barely able to hear her voice above
the beating of his heart.

"I don't think they've seen you.  Hang on."  His arm went around her
waist, lifting her as he turned to open the rear car door.  She started
to put her arms around him, then, realizing that her hands made a bulge
under his coat, she hooked her thumbs through the beltloops on either
side of his waist. 

He opened the door awkwardly and they maneuvered, her legs between his,
so he could kneel on the back seat and lean far over, pretending to
rearrange something there.  They let go of each other and she rolled
onto the floor.  He removed his coat and threw it over her, shut the
door, got in the front seat and drove away.  Only when he stopped the
car and turned off the engine did she venture to make a sound.  "All
clear?"

"All clear."

She threw off the coat and sat up in the back seat.  They were in the
FBI parking lot.  "I think you owe me an explanation."

"I got--an anonymous tip this morning," he began, looking at her in the
rear view mirror.  "And I was able to reassign Mulder, but not you.  I
was hoping you'd just accept my word and leave the case alone."

She met his eyes in the mirror.  "I'm perfectly capable of making the
right decision, given all the facts.  If I suspect someone's
deliberately keeping something from me, though--you really should know
me better by now, sir."

"I should," he agreed ruefully.  "Okay.  I need to go upstairs and see
where things stand, if I can."  He raised his eyebrows in question.  

She handed over his coat and answered with a small smile, getting out of
the car, "Don't worry.  I can stay out of trouble, sir." 

***

Scully shook her head, realizing that she was staring at dust motes
floating in the narrow beams of sunlight that rarely made it down to the
basement office. The cursor hadn't moved on her computer for close to an
hour now, despite the fact that she'd been trying to concentrate on her
report.  She had a backlog as long as her arm and knew she was falling
farther and farther behind with every minute gone.  But the screen held
no fascination for her.

Because the man who in her more neutral moments she'd thought of as an
obstacle in her way and in her more heated ones as the ex-Marine who
would as soon jump down her throat for a minor infraction as look at
her, she...wasn't thinking about in either of those ways. 

When she'd first caught herself thinking about the AD in an
inappropriate manner, she had forcefully put the thoughts from her mind,
shocked and embarrassed for herself.  But each time she caught herself,
it was easier to dwell on the thoughts, and more pleasurable.

She slumped in her chair and sighed.  Fight, or give in?  She closed her
eyes.

And was again overwhelmed by the scent trapped in the black wool
overcoat of a man who'd held her hard against him, making her feel every
muscle in his body move as he rescued her stubborn self from danger. 
She opened her eyes and saw, not the computer screen, but the same man
hovering over her prone body, even briefly, as if he were a lover, gaze
locking with hers before she'd fallen to the floor of the car and tucked
the coat around herself. 

She didn't even have to concentrate to feel his hand on her back, his
arm around her waist, because the fleeting moment had imprinted itself
on her body.   She could imagine his other arm around her, his hands
moving-- 

Scully stared blankly at the ceiling.  *Dana Katherine, get a grip.*

That was the voice of reason.  And her fertile imagination, in active
war with that voice, was finding that she'd stored away quite a bit of
information about the AD without even realizing it.

Skinner's expression had an unnerving intensity even at the best of
times, and imagining that his incendiary glare was prompted by one kind
of passion instead of another wasn't that big a leap at all, really. 
His all-too-familiar groan of exasperation at the latest X-Files fiasco
easily turned into another kind of groan in her mind.  The muscles in
his powerful arms and torso (obvious even to her previously uncaring eye
under his perfectly knotted ties and starched shirts), muscles tensed to
keep him from lunging across the desk and throttling her or, more often,
her partner, she could free-associate any number of ways, most of them
getting rid of the desk and rotating his axis of orientation 90 degrees
or so--

But the real question was, how could she get inside that coat again? 
What if she was outside without her own coat and it suddenly started to
snow?

...and then Skinner, seeing her shivering, walked up to her and opened
his heavy black overcoat to shelter her.  She pressed herself against
him as they walked slowly along, his arm encircling her shoulders as she
clung tight, surrounded by the feel and smell of him, his heart beating
beneath her cheek.  And then she tugged on his tie and pulled him into a
darkened alcove, pressing herself back against a wall so that his body
blocked her and her movements from sight.  She undid the tie and started
unbuttoning his shirt, the better to feel his body heat, slipping her
hands inside to warm them on his well-muscled chest.  His hand went
behind her, cushioning her from the wall, his thumb caressing the small
of her back as he forced her body closer against him.  She tugged his
shirt loose from his pants and her hands stroked him from chest to
waist...  

Scully felt again his waist in her hands as she'd clung to him before
he'd gotten her into the car, and looked down at her hands, amazed at
how sharp the memory was.

...and then she was slow-dancing with Skinner to a song heavy with
saxophone on a crowded dance floor, a hand resting on his shoulder, the
other holding one of his hands, his other hand resting lightly on her
upper back.  Gradually, as the press of the bodies around them confined
them to a smaller and smaller space, he brought their joined hands
closer to their bodies and she swayed her hips against him in time to
the music.  She brushed a finger against the side of his neck, the
lightest of caresses, and then her hands dropped to his waist, holding
him there as they continued to dance.  His hand on her back moved around
her until he was embracing her.  He tilted her chin up, and bent and
kissed her.  Her hand went to his face, and she felt his tense jaw relax
under her caress, his stern mouth soften against hers.  As they moved
away and looked at each other she reached up to remove his glasses and
looked deep into his dark eyes...

But he'd been wearing his glasses that morning, and for once she hadn't
seen her expression reflected back at her on those lenses, had felt
something other than challenge or contrition as she'd held Skinner's
gaze.  Looking right at him, their eyes had met in a moment of pure
understanding, of two wills become one, as he'd poised above her.

...and then she was lying beneath him, watching as he teased her,
resting his weight on his arms and refusing to let her feel his body on
hers.  She locked gazes with him, begging him while his dark eyes
laughed at her.  He dipped his head and kissed her, but pulled away
before she could deepen it.  She couldn't help a moan, she wanted to
feel all of him against her right now.  Her hands went to his broad
shoulders, caressing along his powerful arms, and then back up again,
taking his face in her hands as he shook his head once at her.   She let
her hands drop on either side of her head, frustrated as she looked up
at him.  And then deliberately she moved her hands to her breasts,
cupping them as if offering them to him.  He seemed to like the sight. 
She brushed her fingertips over her nipples lightly, slowly, her eyes
closing and her lips parting as she brought them gradually erect.  She
felt a sudden breath, cool on her overheated skin, before a wet mouth
descended and nudged one of her hands aside, laved her nipple, teeth
scraping gently as his mouth took full possession of her breast...  

Scully jumped out of her chair as she realized that she'd had her hands
on her breasts, had actually been touching herself at work.  *My God,
Dana, what the hell are you doing?  What if someone walked in here??* 

...and then Skinner came down to the basement office wearing his
overcoat, on his way back from some errand outside the building, and
started to talk to her about something that couldn't wait.  She asked
him, "Are you cold, sir?  Why don't you take off your coat?"  He
shrugged, tossed it over a chair, continued his discussion and went back
to his office, leaving the coat behind.  

Scully picked it up and weighed it in her arms, and then buried her face
in it, inhaling deeply.  She slipped it on and smiled at how ludicrously
large it was on her, reaching down to her ankles, the sleeves flopping
uselessly past her hands.  But it was still warm from him, and it felt
almost like being inside his body, and not just his clothing.  She
stroked the wool, then pressed more firmly as her hand traveled over her
breast.      

Too much material between her hand and her body, between her and the
coat.  She took it off and quickly undressed, then put the coat back
on.  The satin lining glided over her hardened nipples as she pulled the
coat tightly closed, folding herself into it.  She walked back and
forth, feeling the heavy movement of it around her legs.  Then she
struck a Skinner pose, letting the coat fall open and leaning her weight
on her back foot as she placed her hands on hips and glared at nothing. 
And then she couldn't help a giggle as she thought about how she must
look.

Hm.

Before she could lose her nerve she stepped back into her pumps,
buttoned the coat up to her neck and went to Skinner's office.  He was
standing by the conference table and looked at her, frowning, as she
closed the door behind her.  "Agent Scully, why are you wearing my
coat?"

"This is your coat, sir?"

"It's obviously not yours," he said dryly.  "Take it off, Agent Scully."

She pushed up the sleeves, freeing her hands.  And she undid the buttons
one by one.  

He took a step towards her as if to stop her.  "What...are you doing?"
he asked, and she smiled at the look of frozen disbelief on his face. 

"You told me to take it off, sir."  She added with her most innocent
expression, "And I *am* bound by oath to follow your orders."

She bent to undo the last buttons, then straightened and shrugged the
coat to the floor.  He crossed the distance between them in one stride,
bending for the fallen coat, hurriedly pulling it back over her
shoulders.  And she looked up at him, her blue eyes not the least
angelic as she took one of his hands and guided it, first to the hollow
at the base of her throat, and then between her breasts.  

His eyes were almost black as he returned her gaze, burning her with its
intensity.  And then with a growl he twisted his other hand into the
hair at the back of her head, forcing her face up to his as he kissed
her hard and insisted on her response.  She opened her mouth wide
underneath his, helpless against kisses so consuming they blocked
everything else from her senses except him.  

He raised his head and looked at her.  "I don't have to order you, do
I?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild as he began to undress.

She couldn't get her voice to work.  Finally, she managed through lips
that felt bruised ,"N-no, sir."

"You don't know what you've started, do you?"

He stood before her, gloriously naked.  "Show me," she whispered, so wet
for him she ached.

His arm went around her waist and he lifted her onto the conference
table, laying her back on his overcoat.    Then he moved on top of her,
parted her legs and with one sure stroke buried his fully erect penis
deep inside her.  She cried out and he stilled, letting her get used to
the feel of him.  Nothing existed for long moments except mouths and
fingers and trembling hands and arms, hot, sweaty skin and incoherent
sounds as they explored each other impatiently, urgently and his hips
continued to grind against hers, reminding her he was still inside her. 

When she began to writhe beneath him, urging him to find his rhythm, he
grasped her hips firmly and withdrew, then began to thrust into her, so
hard and deep she shuddered with each stroke.  Her stomach contracted as
she exhaled suddenly, crying his name, her whole body quivering with
orgasm. But she felt herself spiraling even higher, tension building
unbearably as he continued to thrust into her and make her come. Her
hands moved restlessly over her twisting body, trying to contain the
sensations even as every part of her moved towards another release, and
then another--wave after wave of pure pleasure washed over her,
overpowered her... 

There was a knock on the door.  

Scully sat down hard, startled.  

A quick glance around the basement office oriented her.  She
self-consciously smoothed her hair behind her ears before she rested
unsteady hands on the computer keyboard and said in a reasonably even
voice, "Come in."

Skinner opened the door, his black overcoat swinging open loosely as he
leaned into the doorway, one hand on the doorknob.  "I'd like to discuss
something with you, Agent Scully."

She moistened her lips.

And smiled.

The End