From: Melynda Jensen <melyndajensen@juno.com>
Date: Wed, 05 May 1999 08:14:05 -0700
Subject: New: "Full Disclosure" Sk/Sc Nc-17

NB: This is a continuation of the stories "The Coat" and "The Meeting,"
and
you might have more fun if you read them both first. E-mail me if you'd
like
a copy, or check out either the Sisters-in-Smut Skinnerotica website or
the
Walter Skinner Fanfic Archive.

FEEDBACK APPRECIATED! Please write to melyndajensen@juno.com
RATING: NC17
CATEGORY: S
KEYWORDS: Skinner/Scully
SPOILERS: None
SUMMARY: Skinner goes to the basement office to return Scully's
briefcase to
her and gets...quite a welcome.
DISCLAIMER: I bow three times to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, and
couldn't make any profit off of this story if I tried.


                              Full Disclosure
                             by Melynda Jensen

"I'd like to discuss something with you, Agent Scully," Skinner said as
he
leaned into the doorway of the basement office.

Reality and fantasy crashed headlong into each other for Scully at the
sight
of the A.D., coming to see her just as he had in her fevered imaginings
only
minutes before. With new appreciation she took in the sharp planes of
his
scowling face, the fierce eyes behind the polished glasses, the way his
broad shoulders filled out the heavy black overcoat. She knew she
wasn't,
couldn't be, thinking straight. She didn't care.

She only knew that Skinner wasn't leaving until he'd given her exactly
what
she wanted.

"Of course, sir," she answered, and gestured for him to enter.

Skinner just managed not to stare at her. A small smile that was warm,
inviting, even speculative, curved her pale pink lips.

Wishful thinking. A leftover nudge from his overactive libido, and that
was
enough of that, thank you very much. There were better odds on hell
treating
a snowball right than Special Agent Dana Scully coming on to him.

Outwardly, he nodded and closed the door behind him; it wasn't his
practice
to reprimand subordinates in full view of other agents. He held out her
briefcase. "I believe this is yours."

She arose from the table she was using as a desk. "Yes. I didn't get a
chance to--"

"I know." He fixed her with what he hoped was one of his "I'm thisclose
to
demanding your badge!" stares--hoped, because he couldn't help being
distracted by the delicate blush coloring her usually ivory skin, the
intensity of her blue eyes as she looked at him, as if...

*As if what?* he demanded of himself as she took the briefcase from him.

She turned her back to him and, instead of setting the briefcase down on
the
table, she bent herself over her chair to place it on the floor on the
far
side. Her skirt rode up to reveal more than just a hint of thigh and
pulled
taut, precisely outlining the curves of her ass.

Skinner's reaction was swift and undeniable, and he silently thanked the

gods for the full cut of his trousers. She probably had no idea what the

view looked like from here, much less what it was doing to him.

As if to prove his point, when she straightened and turned back to him
she
didn't smooth her skirt down, obviously unaware of how much leg she was
showing. How much slender, shapely leg. How much strong, creamy,
slender,
shapely--he was going to have to order her to wear pantsuits from now
on, he
thought desperately, even as he fought the sudden, vivid picture of
those
legs wrapping around him...

She gestured at the office chairs holding teetering piles of paperwork
and
open books. "Mulder doesn't get many guests down here," she explained
apologetically. "Would you--?" She maneuvered over to Mulder's desk,
started
pulling his chair out for Skinner to sit on.

"Not necessary. This won't take long." Curt. Cranky. At least his voice
was
under his control.

She gave him a wry look. "If you're going to chew me out, sir, you might
as
well sit down like you usually do." And she set the chair in front of
the
desk for him.

The exertion had somehow loosened the top button of her jacket. The neck
of
it was low enough that he could see she was wearing no blouse
underneath,
was wearing the jacket itself as a top. Only the slightest, smallest,
tiniest of efforts would unseat that button...

The phone on Mulder's desk rang. They both stared at it blankly for a
second, and then Scully murmured, "Excuse me, sir," and squeezed between
him
and the table to get to the phone. Bodies touched in passing, for a
split
second the full length of her was pressed against him, her hair tickling
his
chin, her breath a warm caress against his throat, and then legs and
thighs
and breasts and arms slid by and were on the other side of Mulder's
desk,
attached to the woman who picked up the phone and answered, "Scully."

Very deliberately, not wanting to look as if their brief contact had
just
sent a jolt of heat all the way through him, not wanting her to guess
just
how grateful he was for the overcoat between her and his
all-too-physical
response to the feel of her, he sat down in Mulder's chair.

"No, Mulder's not here," she said. "He's..."

Skinner heard the pause and realized that even Scully didn't know where
he'd
sent Mulder that morning. He turned his head and looked at her.

Her jacket had come unbuttoned at the top.

"Baltimore," he said, focusing on her face. "The Summerson case." A
shaft of
sunlight found its way through one of the windows above her, making her
red
hair burn like a smoldering ember.

She repeated the information to the caller, who apparently asked her to
take
a message because she started hunting around for paper and pen. Then she

propped the phone between her shoulder and ear and hunched over the desk
to
write.

*No, Agent Scully, don't--!*

Black lace. He could see straight down the opened neck of her jacket to
the
black lace bra inside, the scraps of fabric barely containing her
breasts as
gravity and the angle of her posture did their work and filled the bra
to
overflowing with pale, smooth, deliciously rounded flesh that his
hands...

Skinner folded his arms firmly over his chest, suddenly afraid his hands

would move where his imagination put them.

Scully hung up the phone and straightened, pursing her lips thoughtfully
as
she read over the message. On anyone else it would have been a perfectly

innocent expression. On her mouth the little moue was a crime waiting to

happen.

And he knew only one way to fight back.

Scully taped the piece of paper to Mulder's computer monitor and looked
back
at Skinner, who arose to face her. His glare was obdurate, absolutely
implacable, the worst storm warning she'd ever seen. The A.D. was just
barely keeping some emotion in check, and it didn't look one bit like
unbridled lust.

"Were you under the impression, Agent Scully, that I came down here just
to
'chew you out'?" he demanded, his words clipped and precise but edged
with
cold fury. "That there was nothing serious about the situation this
morning?
That you weren't in imminent danger of losing your *life*?"

She stared at him, stunned. The accusation was blatantly unfair. And as
he
towered over her, his powerful body tense with control, she realized
that if
she'd thought he was hot when he walked through the door, she hadn't
known
what hot was. Trying to buy time to think, she ventured, "Was there any
trouble upstairs afterwards?"

"No thanks to you, no," he said dryly, his tone undercut with icy
menace.

She clenched her hands into hard fists to keep from trembling. She was
more
furious at his unjustified words than she could ever remember being. But
oh,
god, she wanted him! The arms refolding across his chest--she wanted
them
folding around her, crushing her that close to him, she wanted to feel
that
harsh, unyielding mouth on hers, kissing her, caressing her throat,
opening
against her breasts...

As Skinner watched her face blanch at his first words, and then suffuse
with
color as she heard his overstatement for what it was, he realized with a

small shock that he'd made a tactical error. He'd been so concerned with

saving his dignity he hadn't remembered the simple fact that although
Scully
would calmly accept criticism, even censure, when she felt she deserved
it,
when she knew she didn't she fought back. It was a confrontation he
didn't
want, with a woman he absolutely had to get away from.

Because the other part of his error was that white-hot ire had turned
her
eyes dark, had caused a flush to spread from her face down the column of
her
neck and all the way between her breasts, had made her breathe hard with

agitation so that those breasts heaved in a truly unsettling way.
Sunlight
set her hair aflame, and with her slim shoulders squared to take him on
and
her hands balled into fists as if she were ready to slug it out if it
came
to that, she looked vitally alive, and unbearably sexy. What he wouldn't

give to reach for her across that desk and try to make her surrender,
not
with words but with hands and mouth and other parts of his anatomy he
didn't
dare give too much thought to...

So he put on the hard-ass persona again. "But there just as easily could

have been trouble. And we both know that."

Scully's chin lifted in defiance. The need to have him warred with the
need
to make him set the record straight and she found herself retorting,
"Yes,
but that's all we *both* know. Is there anything else you'd like to
share
with me about what exactly happened this morning?"

"What are you implying, Agent Scully?" And the act of being angry began
to
turn real.

"Nothing. I *know* you withheld information from me, sir; you admitted
it
yourself."

"We obviously need to review chain of command." His eyes narrowed
ominously
as he leaned over the desk. "When I give an order, I expect it to be
obeyed
without question."

She didn't back down. "This is not about following or not following
orders.
This is about your not giving me the facts I needed to do my job. What
happened this morning is a direct result of your not trusting me with
full
disclosure."

"Have I missed something?" His tone was both sarcastic and menacing.
"Did
the FBI change policy and procedure when I was on vacation? Or where
does it
say that an Assistant Director--"

"Do you even know what this is about, what this all started over?" She
came
out from behind Mulder's desk.

With the same voice that stopped agents dead in their tracks, Skinner
demanded, blocking her way, "Where do you think you're going, Agent
Scully?"

But she was beyond being intimidated, didn't bother answering him as she

tried to push past. Height and bulk were on his side and he stopped her
easily. Jaw stubbornly set, she stared up at him.

And defiance melted into something else altogether. "Th-there's a file
you
need to see, in my briefcase--"

He heard the stutter, and would have been surprised at that if the
change in
her expression hadn't struck him even more. The full weight of her in
mid-stride had propelled her firmly against him, and she had to be able
to
feel the evidence of her effect on him.

But she turned away, didn't even know why she tried to dodge around him
to
get to her briefcase, suddenly unsure now that he knew--and she knew...

He was having none of it, not after what he saw in her eyes. He took her

waist in his hands and pulled her hard up against him inside his coat,
her
back to his front. "That's enough, Agent Scully," he said in her ear in
a
harsh whisper. "So you'd like full disclosure? Is that it? You think I'm

holding out on you?"

She closed her eyes, unable to escape and realizing that she didn't want
to.
"Yes, sir," she answered unsteadily.

"Then I'll hold nothing back," he promised, unbuttoning her jacket. "And
I
expect you to do the same."

Strong hands caressed her arms, easing the jacket off her. He kissed her

neck as he cupped her breasts in his hands, causing her bra straps to
slip
off her shoulders, and his mouth moved to explore the exposed flesh. She

reached behind and undid her bra and it joined the discarded jacket on
the
table.

She moaned, arching her breasts more deeply into his hands, his palms
and
thumbs and fingertips teasing her nipples to hardness as her body
writhed
helplessly and rubbed against his erect penis. Her arm went around his
neck
and drew his mouth to hers, wide open, wet.

When she tried to turn he pushed her forward instead so that she was
leaning
against the table. She grabbed its edges as he undid her skirt and let
it
slide it past her hips and down to the floor, then eased her nylons and
black lace panties down her legs. She stepped out of her high-heeled
pumps
so he could remove her hose, but immediately stepped back into her
shoes;
she could feel that without them she wouldn't be the right height for
him to
enter her--and she did want him to enter her.

His overcoat was thrown onto the table, spilling over the sides and
cushioning the edge of the table as he leaned his weight into her,
reminding
her he was still there as he undressed.

He placed her hand on his cock. She gasped at the feel of it filling her

hand, hot and pulsing, slick with pre-come. She'd never had anyone that
large inside her. But she had to have him and, bending over, guided him
to
her wet, willing entrance.

He rubbed his penis against the lips of her vagina, coating it a little
more
before he pressed forward. She reached behind, spreading her lips apart
for
him, begging him. He thrust forward, burying himself in her with one
sure
stroke. And then he began to move deep and slow.

She buried her face in his coat, her already-sensitive nipples rubbing
against the satin lining as he gradually speeded up until he was
thrusting
hard and fast, and she desperately tried to muffle her cries. She was
trembling, only the table and his weight keeping her upright at all. He
reached between her legs for her throbbing clit and she came, trapped
between his cock and his hand. She convulsed around him, and the
pressure
triggered his orgasm.

He held her tight, nuzzling her, silencing his own gasps against her
sweaty
skin. Somehow they made it to her chair and sat down with her in his lap
as
they tried to recover.

He tilted her face up and they kissed slowly, carefully, thoroughly. And

Scully felt a stirring underneath her hip. She looked at Skinner,
amused, as
he encouraged her hands to investigate and explained,

"Full disclosure. I wouldn't want you to think I'm deliberately
withholding
anything from you..."

                                  The End