From: Don Britton Date: Thu, 02 Jul 1998 23:43:52 -0400 first off... PLEASE DO NOT REPLY TO THE MAILING ADDRESS!!!!!! Send all comments to Fox1121@hotmail.com or nephalim@mailexcite.com Feedback on this one is not exactly necessary, but would not be unappreciated either. For all of you master flamers out there, I KNOW that the ending satisfies nothing. That's the point! Title: Desks and Dust Author: FOX Rating: NC-17 Classification: S / R / A Keywords: MSR, RST Spoilers: teensy, weensy bit on "Never Again" Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the property of Chris Carter (grovel at his feet), Fox, and Ten Thirteen Productions used without permission. This story is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by anyone associated with The X-files. These are the creations of C.C. run amuck in a strangely operating mind. No infringement intended and please don't sue the author, because you won't get much for your efforts and the reward will be less than what you owe your lawyer. Before you continue, consider the fact that this piece is very out of character for both Mulder and Scully. (if they were IN character, NONE OF US would have ANYTHING to write about, would we???) Summary: A late night at the office and Mulder's usual apathetic behavior force he and Scully to confront their demons of anger in a *physical* way, where a violent release escalates into something more... Hello everyone. If you read my other two stories, "The Beginning With no End" and "Revelations", you'll note that this is COMPLETELY out of character for me. And if you haven't, then let me let me reiterate: This is not the twisted way my mind works all the time, I'm really just a giant cheezeball for hearts, flowers, and romance, romance, ROMANCE, with maybe a bit of cumulative innuendo/sex at the end. So you may be asking yourself, why the hell did she write this then?! Well, folks, we all have our bad days. Some of those are very, very, very bad, and the day I wrote this was even worse than that. By this point, you should have gathered from my rambling that this is not a happy squishy-feeling-at-the-end story. No kiddies please, and read at your own risk. If you enjoyed my other stories, however, I am working on my masterpiece up to this point in life, a 130K+ story of angst and romance, with a great ending. My best yet, and a shipper's haven. I'm near the end, and promise to post it as soon as I finish. Thanks for your time, everyone. ~Valerie ________________________________________________________________________ Scully pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut in an unsuccessful attempt to focus on the paperwork which lay spread out on her desk. Well, it wasn't exactly a desk, more like a piece-of-wood-on-metal-legs-thing, but it held her computer and expense reports, and though it was not graced with a nameplate, at least it was hers. It was what Mulder had found for her when she brought the subject up a few months ago. She hadn't been overly concerned with having a desk, but a symbol of her existence in the X-files, in life, something she could sit behind and lock eyes with her partner when they were arguing and feel equally important. Strangely enough, after almost five years in the basement, she had barely anything she could personally lay claim to besides the ancient vacuum cleaner in the closet down the hall. With an inaudible sigh, she raised her eyes to Mulder, who was avidly reading a magazine of his own personal choice; one which Scully had to forcibly keep her opinion of to herself. Having lost track of the thought she had been preparing to express, her glance next fell on the clock behind him, which, she noted with some little astonishment, read after six o'clock. "Mulder, I'm leaving," she announced flatly. No reaction, let alone acknowledgement that she had even spoken. Her eyes sparking as emotion began to pierce the cold, still walls of boredom, she crossed the room and shoved her arms into the worn trenchcoat. Casting a burning glance at the briefcase that lay on her desk, packed with paperwork that should've all been Mulder's responsibility, her anger escalated. After he had left her a thousand times in some dead pool of a case, for whatever selfish or demented reasons he could claim if he explained at all, at least she bothered to let him know she was going. Not that he deserved it, but she was human, and as a result had emotions that occasionally ranged beyond angst and anger. What he was, or why he flat out disliked her, when she was the singular reason he was sitting there with that sexually induced smirk on his face, was, or had been, her quest with no answer. Now, he didn't care if she lived or died, and she didn't either. Trying to control her breathing, Scully sensed that she was on the very thin edge of her Irish temper- a temper Mulder had never fully experienced or understood. She focused on a small object and attempted to quell the white-hot adrenaline coursing through her veins. No such luck. Her feet had to move, she needed to get out the door. Just? one? step. Her pumps remained rooted to the thin, gray carpet. "Mulder," she said, refusing to let her tone reveal how she was feeling, "I said, I'm leaving." He could be civil? or he could be sorry. "I figured you knew not to let the door hit you in the ass," he delivered without so much as a glance. Her ears rang. At least, she thought they did, but all sound seemed to be muffled by a great, dark blanket of pure rage. Her surroundings narrowed until they contained nothing but her partner, if he could be called that, and the magazine he was reading, if, again, that was considered reading. Before, she had loved him through anger and sorrow, but now, she could feel it. She could really and truly feel it. She hated him- hated the lanky bastard from the very marrow of her quaking bones. He had no right, no one did, to willingly cause someone so much pain, let alone someone so? so what? Nothing. She was nothing to him. After all this time, he had never heard one, single, goddamn word she'd said. Well, good for him, she sneered. He wouldn't have to listen at all now, just feel. Since he was paying her no attention, he didn't hear her light step quickly move to where he was sitting, but he sure as hell felt it when he was seized by the collar of his shirt, raised into a half-standing position and slammed back against the file cabinet with force enough to rattle anything not nailed down in the office. His vision clouded for a moment, but he could sense her face hovering before him. "What the hell do you think you're-" "Don't think, Mulder. It's a very bad time to start that, considering." She growled, but heard the tinge of gratification from the purely physical action. "Tell me. Right now. What is it? Why do you hate me?" Beginning to get his bearings back, Mulder's sense of male pride easily squashed his few morals about women. Before she could react, he snatched her by the wrists, hurling her small body backwards a few feet to the wall, being sure not lose hold of her arms. He had now effectively reversed their positions. Her glare of fury nearly was enough to send him away, but he wouldn't give. She struggled as he held her wrists high above her head, pinning her for the moment. His eyes had melted into bright, mottled green, the ever-present gold flecks in the center of his normally hazel orbs were all but eclipsed by the mocking gaze he scorched her with, glowering down. Scully's wrath would not allow her to stand for such scrutiny. Without moving a muscle of expression in her face, she snapped her knee upwards. Obviously expecting this, he bent over somewhat to avoid the tactic, which was what Scully wanted anyway. Taking advantage of this momentary lapse in his attention, she wrenched, if painfully, her right arm from his grasp and slugged with all the force she could muster upwards directly into his solar plexus, making sure to use her legs for power. A solid, thick whumph greeted her ears as Mulder went limp and slumped to the floor, unable to breathe. Straightening, a mad leer creased her face as she watched him struggle, but in the back of her mind, she knew that a hundred of the punches she had just delivered had no chance of ever equaling the pain he had caused her. Grunting out his words, Mulder scowled upwards. "You think I hate you? You think you're important enough anymore to hate?" Her jaw dropped. How could he possibly have the audacity to? But it didn't matter. She was leaving, and she was never, ever, coming back. "Running away?" He said, louder, sitting up and getting to his feet on the second try. "I knew you were always just some soft recruit with no spine. I knew you could never take it from the first day when you walk in here with that sexually repressed, tight-ass smile on your face." Ignoring him, she flung the door open, but he wasn't finished. "But then, you obviously weren't sexually repressed at all, were you?" She could hear the evil in his tone, the ridicule. "Fucked Ed Jerse a good one, didn't you?" She wheeled about, her eyes wide, disbelief quickly kindling to an open death threat. He continued relentlessly, trying to twist a knife in an already salty wound. "Was the ergot poising part of the bargain?" He stepped in until his nose was inches from hers, delivering the final blow. "Or was it just the fifty dollars in your pocket?" Pausing when she didn't swing again, he went for more blood. "Maybe you're high class, Scully, maybe you're more expensive. One hundred? Even two?" Her breathing was erratic, but so was his by this time; he hadn't realized how enraged her actions had made him until this moment. "But then, you could be cheap. How cheap, Scully?" His acrid breath overcame her senses. "It doesn't matter, you're still just a slut." Her voice was level, cool. "You're an invertebrate scum-sucker whose moral dipstick is about two drops short of bone dry," she ground out, flawlessly recalling his words to Krychek on a previous occasion. "Whore," he reiterated, in the same barely restrained manner. "Here goes the last two drops." He didn't care if he lost his job, or if he went to jail; he cared that this woman was the most infuriatingly evil person he had ever met. Without warning, he drew back, and sailed a punch at her cheek that would have felled Goliath. It struck her only partially, because of her well-trained reflexes, but even that was enough to send her reeling back into the metal shelves on her left. What looked like hundreds of folders came spilling down from their precarious perches in a manila avalanche. Papers of every description showered the office corner as the flimsily built shelves caved in on themselves, appearing to implode as the racks clattered to the floor. No moment of shocked silence followed in which Mulder had time to recount his mistake. As she was going down, she was already working on the movements of getting up. She bounced back at him, seemingly unfazed, not bothering to completely stand, and drove her head into his midsection, and, consequently, both of them to the other side of the room. When he tried to get ahold of her around the waist, she twisted away with expertise. All thoughts of playing "fair" and having mercy on a woman beat a hasty retreat in Mulder's mind. Snagging his arm around her neck, he nearly had her in a headlock when she snapped her elbow into his nose. Scully felt the cartilage crush beneath the blow. She felt a mad kind of elation as he cried out. But instead of backing away like she expected, he snatched her arm behind her back to where it would take him a single jerk to dislocate her shoulder. It took all her will not to whimper at the pain. In a desperate attempt to free herself, she aimed a swift kick at where she thought his knee might be. She was off by a few inches, but he slammed her against the wall face first for the endeavor. Tasting blood, Scully felt a hot, sticky drop of the same substance drip onto her neck from behind. In the most antagonizing voice she could muster, she showed she was not beaten. "You think you can intimidate me Mulder? I know you. I know you're just a pussy who can't cut it in your own mind, so you take it out on innocent women." Suddenly, she was released. Pivoting to deliver another smart retort, she was completely unprepared for the backhanded cuff which knocked her squarely across the face and sent her to the floor. As she was shaking her head to escape the blackness that was threatening to overtake her, he seized her by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall again, grasping her unresisting arms and holding her wrists at the small of her back with one hand, pushing her chest harder to the plaster as she struggled to regain her balance. "You're anything but innocent." Bracing his other arm next to her head, he drove his hips forward with force, pressing his rock-hard erection into her ass. Scully's eyes popped open. That couldn't be what she thought it was. Experimentally, she ground her hips against the feeling, hard. Mulder growled from somewhere inside himself he didn't know existed. Roughly spinning her around, he faced her for the first time since he had hit her. Blood trickled down her face from a open cut under her eye. She still managed to sneer at him. "You really are a sick bastard," was all she could get out before he descended on her with a primal force she had never felt the likes of. His mouth slanted over hers as they found themselves tasting each other's blood. Some center in Mulder's brain overheated from the whole situation. He felt dominant, powerful, but yet she could still resist. His mind would not let him walk away. He would have her, would have her like he had wanted her for so long, goddamn if he wouldn't. When she closed her teeth on his tongue, he rumbled in his throat again. Grabbing her by the lapels of her jacket, he pulled her forward, reaching behind him with one hand until he felt his desk. With one sweep of his hand, the surface was clean and the computer terminal was in the corner. Somewhat surprised, he noticed she wasn't resisting any longer, just refusing to drop the rough and tough front she had put up. Fine, he could play it that way. Vaguely, Scully remembered something about sex in an animal sense being wrong or a sin or some such Catholic drivel. Right now, her only religion was her anger and desire for the man before her. She almost hoped it would hurt. Mulder lifted her up and slammed her on the desk without finesse. He was past the urgent stage. He wanted her to surrender under his onslaught, but somehow he knew she wouldn't completely. He didn't particularly care as long as that suit he hated because it was too loose on her came off as quickly as possible. Wrenching the jacket off her shoulders, he whipped the blouse off over her head in what he was sure was under a second. But before he could unclasp her bra, she was on him. She had no intention of bothering with the multitude of buttons on his shirt that swam in her vision. She pulled, and they seemed to pop off of their own violation. His slacks were around his ankles in the next moment, the black boxer-briefs swiftly following. At the same time, she found her slacks and panties being forcefully yanked out from under her. "Are you going to try and tell me you don't want me?" he asked breathlessly, at last finding his goal with his fingers. Roughly forcing two inside her, he found her already wet and open to him. "No," she gasped. Not to be outdone, she reached out blindly. Connecting with his now-bulging penis, she quickly wrapped her hand around him in a tight-fisted stroke from base to tip. "Are you?" she asked flippantly, as he drove forward uncontrollably. Not feeling an answer was necessary, he pulled her hips to the edge of the desk and forced her hands to her sides. Closed to the idea of wasting another second, he reached between them and guided himself to her, entering her in one hard thrust. She cried out as his size stretched her to the limits, but them an incredible pleasure rendered her thoughts and her mouth mute as he began to pound into her. Mulder felt his pace increase unconsciously as he neared his release mind-blowingly fast. Reaching to where they were joined, he flicked her clit lightly with his thumb and was entirely unprepared for the intensity of her orgasm. She surged forward and sunk her teeth into his shoulder, dragging her nails down his back. The sudden contrast between the pain of her assault and the indescribable pleasure of her clamping down on him inside sent him over the edge before he could draw another breath. He pushed into her again and again, wildly, until he was spent. Collapsing on top of her, when he came back to himself, he was returned to his right mind for the first time in over an hour. He raised himself up and looked at the still defiant woman under him. He stared at her bruised face in disbelief, wishing that, somewhere, there was a rock big enough for him to hide under. Closing his eyes against his behavior for the last year, he opened them in surprise to a small chuckle from beneath him. "I can guarantee you, you look worse," she said, relaxed and forgiving. Speechless, Mulder couldn't believe he wasn't hearing the opening lines of a suet. "Oh, don't think you've redeemed yourself." As he flinched, she added, "but you're on the way there." It hit him in an epiphany comparable to that which spawned gravity and the Pythagorean Theorem. "You know what I had forgotten?" he said, innocently. Scully blinked in ignorance. "That I love you." There were no thoughts behind her words, just truth. "I love you, too. We can't keep destroying the office and each other every time we remember, though." They smiled at the oddity of the entire situation, and, for the first real time, they kissed, knowing that these new wounds, outside and in, would be their last. --- Please Reply To: Fox1121@hotmail.com or nephalim@mailexcite.com Thanx again for reading! ;)