From: february74@iname.com
Date: Mon, 25 Jan 1999 16:52:31 -0500 (EST)
Subject: new story

TITLE: Gorgeous Naked FBI Agent
AUTHOR: Christina Pishiris
e-mail: february74@iname.com
RATED: PG
CATEGORY: T (adventure), H (humour)
SPOILERS: Tiny reference to an event from Anasazi
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST
SUMMARY: Scully is having impure thoughts about her partner. When
she acts on them how does Mulder react?

DISCLAIMERS: Agents Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter,
1013 and Fox.



                        Gorgeous Naked FBI Agent
 
                         

I could still feel his fingers on my skin. His strong hands
sweeping across my body, jolting nerves, triggering waves of
bliss, and only the occasional moan of pleasure punctuating the
silence.

I hadn't felt that good in a long time. And the feeling lingered
even now, almost an hour later, as I got to the office. 

I checked my watch: only slightly later than usual, Mulder's
morning jogging schedule meant he wouldn't be here for another 15
minutes.

"Good morning."  Mulder's voice carried easily through the open
door. "You're late."

"You're early."  My voice betrayed my disappointment. 

"Scully, there's something different about you."  He fixed one of
his half-smiles on me, his gaze wandering the length of me,
before settling a couple of inches above my eyebrows. "It's your
hair, isn't it? You've cut it, no curled it. No, hang on, you've
dyed it - it's a different shade of red."

"It's wet. I just had a shower." Mulder rose from behind his desk
and came towards me, stopping inches from my face. "Mulder, what
are you doing?"  I couldn't help reddening, and cursed silently.
His eyes lingered on my cheeks, while I was transfixed by the
stubble darkening his jaw. We stood like that for probably  a
matter of seconds, but if AD Skinner had seen us he'd have
thought we were about to kiss.

I broke the silence. "OK. I went for a massage this morning."
Mulder grunted in satisfaction and stepped back into
not-so-personal body space. I swore inwardly again. He thinks I
go to jelly every time he comes within spitting distance. "So how
is our very own Nurse Jackson these days?" Mulder continued
nonchalantly. "And how is her grand-son at Princeton?" 

I was overcome by the violent urge to wipe the smile of my
partner's face. "Our own people have never been able to do
anything for my back. But my health club has six fully qualified
masseurs." Mulder's smile lingered. "Jonathan's full-body
massages work wonders." Smile gone and perfect jaw dropped. 
Agent Scully, md, back in the driver's seat. "We're supposed to
be interviewing Darlene Hickey this morning. Are you coming?" I
turned on my heel and headed out of the door. I could hear Mulder
fumbling for his jacket. He didn't say another word on the
matter.

"You know, maybe I should be driving." 

"What?" I asked, slightly too pointedly, keeping my eyes fixed on
the road. He was right. I was squirming in my  seat, trying to
find a comfortable position. The nagging ache had returned and it
was only 10 am. An uncomfortable day stretched before me. I
figured I'd get through it a whole lot easier if I made peace
with Mulder. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped. My back's been bugging
me for two days now, since that squash game with Holly. I'll be
fine once I take something for it." Mulder had the decency to nod
sympathetically, and we arrived at Hickey's office two
painkillers later and with some of the pain dulled.

Darlene Hickey worked with Tim Garrison, the murder victim, whose
death we were investigating. Garrison was a partner in Hickey's
law firm. Darlene Hickey wasn't the name of anyone I'd want
representing me in a court of law, but I suspected my partner
wasn't of the same persuasion. Hickey's platinum blonde hair,
teased to the texture of candy-floss, hovered around her
shoulders. Split ends to die for, I thought uncharitably.But then
she didn't seem too taken with me. She kept her long-lashed baby
blues fixed on Mulder the whole time, only looking at me when I
asked her a direct question. After only my second question in 25
minutes, her eyes returned on cue to Mulder who had wandered 
over to a marble sink in the corner.

I wouldn't have bothered to follow Hickey's gaze but the look on
her face as she watched my partner's retreating form was pure
lust. Suppressing a tut, I turned around to follow the trajectory
of her eyes. What held Hickey so transfixed was Mulder's ass.
It was warm in the office, he wasn't wearing his jacket, and yes,
the cut of his pants did seem to accentuate deliciously the
curves of his THUD. I spun quickly in my chair and stared at the
water pooling on the desk. The glass I had knocked over rocked
gently to a standstill. Mulder turned around with a frown. 
Severed from her connection to Mulder's behind, Hickey came out
of her reverie, dabbing tissues at the mess on her desk. She
ignored my apologies and left the room only to return with a hand
towel which did a better job of mopping the water. 

Mulder was back at my side. I stood up, not quite to his shoulder
in my court shoes. "I think we've taken up enough of your time Ms
Hickey. If you think of anything else, you know where to reach
us."  He made those last six words sound like an invitation for
Hickey to  spend the night licking Maple syrup off his torso.
Hickey seemed to catch his meaning. She nodded, murmured a
breathless "yes",  before Mulder's hand was at the small of my
back guiding me out of the office. 

"Get your hands off me," I hissed once we were out of earshot.
Mulder shot me one of his patented wounded looks before nodding
in comprehension. "Oh. Your back. I forgot." 

But it wasn't my back. I hadn't felt a twinge the entire
interview. I just felt like biting someone's head off and
Mulder's was the most convenient.  His hand in the small of my
back - the nub of my earlier discomfort - felt good. Too good.
Warm and soft. I stopped myself suddenly. Where did that come
from? And come to think of it, since when did I pride myself on
what a great-assed partner I had? Maybe he's wearing those
special underpants, those wonderbra-type things for buttocks.
Wouldn't surprise me what you could pick up via mail order in
those magazines Mulder liked so much.

"Nice move," said Mulder, as he nosed the car out of the parking
spot. Before I took a second bite at his head I realised he
wasn't being sarcastic. "That inspired bit of glass smashing
meant I could swipe this from Hickey's office."  He offered me a
small vial of clear liquid. "What do you say, Dr Scully?"

"I say what on earth possessed you to steal something from
someone helping us with a murder investigation?" I tried to keep
my voice down, I really did. I felt a muscle spasm in my back as
my anger flared. Mulder stared at me incredulously. I was
beginning to think that maybe his wonderbra underwear was
starting to affect the blood-flow to his head.

"But didn't you see her eyes, Scully?" Yeah, probably Revlon 2000
I thought to myself as Mulder continued. "It was like she was
intoxicated." Or in heat, came the thought unbidden.  What with
certain FBI agents were cavorting around shaking their tight
buns. Oh shit, that's blown it. But I was safe. I hadn't said it
out loud, but I'd wanted to. Now I knew something was up.  I
looked over at Mulder who was starting to look concerned, his
puppy-dog eyes full of -

"Watch it, you asshole!"  Mulder turned to face the direction of
the voice and caught sight of a cyclist at the edge of the road
shaking his fist at us. Mulder made some apologetic noises, more
for my benefit, than for the luckless soul he'd almost eternally
pasted to the asphalt.


"Mulder. I don't feel so well." A whole five minutes had passed
without incident since the cyclist incident.

"It's your back isn't it?"

Well it is and it isn't, I wanted to say. I felt weird and it
bothered me. I felt like I did the first time I got drunk. And
what bothered me more were the bizarre thoughts of Mulder that
kept flooding into my head. Maybe I was coming down with
something. Flu, the scientific side of my brain decided, could
account for both the back ache and the mild delirium. I made a
delicate sniff. Yep, probably the start of a runny nose too.

"Why don't get another massage at your club?" Mulder had been
talking for at least a whole minute but only this line caught my 
attention. He carried on, blissfully unaware. "No one's going to
know if we play hooky for an hour or so. And besides you're hell
when you're grumpy."

"Gee, thanks," I replied stiffly. "But I'll be fine."

"No, I Scully I insist."

That was weird. It wasn't like Mulder to drag himself away from
his precious investigations. Then it clicked.

"Mulder, this place I go, it's a bona fide health club. Not a not
the sort of massage parlour you'd visit late on a Friday night."
I was on a roll, and couldn't keep from blurting this next bit
out. "The masseurs don't have as much as a Swedish grand-parent
between them, you don't pay by the minute, and they never, ever,
take their kit off and hop on to the bed with you."


"Well then you've got nothing to be ashamed of have you? It's on
M street, right?" Mulder was in unpiss-offable mode. I sighed.
What the heck I thought. Taking it easy today might mean I could
stave off the worst symptoms till the weekend. 

"Well, we're not due to see Skinner until 4pm," I said slowly,
not wanted to think I had capitulated completely. But by now,
Mulder was agog at the idea of getting to M street.

"I've always wanted to see what sort of swanky gym you joined. I
could swim a few lengths while I'm waiting for you."

I tried, really I tried, but before I knew it, the image of a
wet, almost naked Mulder filled my head. Not only swimming, but
emerging, in slow motion, from the pool, the muscles on his
swimmer's shoulders glinting in the light. Now, he was rubbing
himself down, very, very slowly with a smile, I mean towel. With
a towel. I held my breath in an effort to banish the thought.

"It's happening again," I groaned in a whisper. 

Mulder glanced at me and  floored the accelerator. 

"You need help, Scully."

It was a struggle, but I finally replaced the semi-naked Mulder
in my head with Chewbacca clipping his toe-nails. With his teeth.
I thought it would be safe to steal a glance at my partner. 

"Just got to pop to my place - seeing as it's on the way -  to
pick up my Speedos."

I crossed my legs, squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that Chewie
was up to the task.


A twenty-minute-drive later I had come to the conclusion that
Mulder looked better than Chewbacca, Luke, Han, and the entire
Imperial army in a pair of scandalously-cut red spandex swimming
trunks. But at least we'd come to the club. Help was at hand.

"Mulder, they don't like non-members using the facilities," I
said. It would have been helpful if I'd remembered this earlier. 

"They must make exceptions," said Mulder, with a blank look on
his face that I'd come to realise meant he was entertaining
dangerous thoughts.

"Don't go flashing your badge about the place," I wailed. "They
don't know I'm FBI." Mulder obviously thought this was amusing.
"So what did you put on your membership form? No - let me guess,"
he was grinning from ear to ear. "I bet you put.... librarian."
Pause. "Or maybe accountant. It would explain the suits."  I
didn't take the bait. Not from a man who dressed as if his daily
business required him to attend conventions for funeral
directors.

Mulder's fun was cut short by the receptionist, who greeted us
with a bright smile. "Hello again, Dr Scully." Mulder honestly
looked surprised. For a smart guy he could be pretty  dumb
sometimes. 

"Hello Janet," I said. I saw her eyes wander to Mulder who
offered his hand. "Hi, I'm Dana's partner, Fox." Janet shook his
hand. Mulder continued. "I know you guys probably only let
married partners in, but me and sweetie-pie here - " he snaked
one arm around my waist for effect - "have been living together
for five years, we share everything." He paused to give me a
saccharine-sweet grin. I held my breath for fear of what he might
say next. "Just can't get her to waltz up that aisle with me." He
said that last bit in an almost conspiratorial whisper, leaning
closer to Janet to give her ample opportunity to appreciate his
honey-coloured eyes.

Lesser women would have melted and luckily Janet was just such a
woman. 

"Well Fox," she giggled, (most people do when they first hear his
name), "just leave it to me." She turned to the computer in front
of her and with a few deft movements produced a swipe card for
Mulder. He took it from her with an appreciative nod, that made
Janet know in no uncertain terms that he would be expecting her
round one night to lick maple syrup off his thighs. I headed off
in the direction of the massage room.

Jonathan, I was told, would be free in ten minutes, so I sat down
and leafed through a magazine in the waiting area. True to his
word, Mulder set off for the pool and I figured he would keep
himself busy for at least the time it took me to get a massage.
Or if I finished before him I could go to the pool and 

"Dana?"

I looked up to see Jonathan's smiling face. "Is the back much
worse?"

"Yeah," I couldn't help but smile apologetically. I didn't want
him to think he massaging skills were having no effect. "But I'm
having a slow day and a friend of mine was coming here anyway, so
I though what the heck!" 

Jonathan ushered me into his room handed me a towel. While he
prepared his table I undressed behind a screen. 

"I'll use a combination of rosemary and ylang ylang oils. They
should help ease some of those knotted muscles." 

Five minutes into the massage I could feel myself relaxing. The
pain was getting pleasingly duller. Funny, I thought to myself, I
don't get pervy images of Jonathan popping into my head, even
when I'm lying naked under him with just a thin sheen of oil
separating us. With his blonde hair, sun-kissed skin and deep
blue eyes, Jonathan made you want to pack up home and move to
California right now. He was LA born and bred - Malibu of all
places - and had only moved to DC this year. 

Maybe Jonathan was too wholesome to be truly sexy. His features
were a little too perfect. Maybe a bump on the nose, or a
protruding lower lip would improve him. Before I realised where
my thoughts were leading me, Mulder burst into the room. All
bumps and protrusions and wet hair.

"Hey, dude!" Jonathan exclaimed. Well actually he didn't. He said
something like "Sir, you gotta wait outside."

"It's OK, I'm Dana's boyfriend."  Jonathan peered down at me
expectantly. There was no reason for Mulder to keep up the
charade for Jonathan. We were in the club for chrissakes, and
he'd got to have his swim. A pretty short one admittedly.
Suspiciously short. 

"That was quick - even for your standards - honey."  I didn't try
to sound like the loving girlfriend. Hell, it had been his bright
idea to play couples  - and it had just occurred to me to play
'couple on the verge of a break-up'. I perked up at the idea. 

Jonathan's best new-age West coast tendencies were unleashed at
the mere hint that there could be any bad karma, man, between us,
and set about trying to involve Mulder in the conversation. 

"Dana's boyfriend," he paused momentarily. "I see."  What, you
don't think I could pull a Mulder? I almost snapped at him,
before he continued.  "You really ought to learn a couple of
tricks to get the tension out of her back. Come here. I'll show
you."

I could hear Mulder rubbing oil on his palms. Oh goodie, I
thought. My next thought was a blur. Mulder's touch was electric.
Who would have guessed those sharp-shooting, fluke-man busting,
alien-chasing hands would feel so good.

My breath caught as his thumbs followed the arc of my spine as he
inched lower and lower until his fingertips nudged the towel
draped over my lower body. Jonathan was talking to Mulder in low
tones, offering gentle encouragement, but I could hear no words.
The blood was pounding in my ears and it was all I could do stop
myself flipping over and pulling Mulder on to me. The thought
appealed to me. Oh yes. He'd smell of chlorine, fresh from his
dip in the pool. I loved a man who smelled of chlorine. But I
especially loved a Mulder who smelt of chlorine. Hell, right now,
Mulder could smell of Mr Spock's vomit and it wouldn't dampen my
libido. Jonathan moved towards and the door. "LEAVE" I
telepathised, and obviously five years being Mrs Spooky does the
trick: Jonathan left. 

I scooted upright. Before the words take me now big boy could
leave my lips  Mulder had raced to the back of the room to
rummage through the Jonathan's things.

"Mulderrrr," I purred, but G-man paid no attention, his back
still turned to me. I hopped off the table, and walked slowly
towards him. Words were obviously not going to work, and besides
which, they were starting to fail me; my mouth felt pretty  full,
what with all the drool and everything. Placing one hand on each
of his arms I crushed myself against him. He froze. He wore a
jacket, a shirt, and no doubt a wussy vest underneath, but I knew
he could feel my nipples against his back. I stood on tiptoe and
got close enough to his ear to utter the three words I'd been
waiting to tell him all day. "I want you."

Now you'd think most guys, when propositioned by a gorgeous,
naked FBI agent, would do what comes naturally. But Mulder did
nothing. Did I mention I was naked? Maybe this was a good time to
remind him. "Turn around Mulder." 

"Scully," his voice was a croak but at least it meant he
remembered I was in the same room. "Scully, this isn't what you
want."  His voice was low, controlled. 

"It is what I want, Mulder. And I know you want it too." I
strengthened my grip on his arms and turned him towards me. Now
we were face to face. His eyes held my gaze, but I could see in
them the urge to flick down. It was a staring match he was always
going to lose. I had two distinct advantages over him. And they
were lightly pressing into his shirt. His eyes soon gave up the
struggle and he let his attention wander first to my left breast
and then to my right. I held my breath and closed my eyes, as a
little triumphant mantra entered my head: Dana's gonna get laid
today, Dana's gonna get laid today.

His hands reached to touch my shoulders but instead of drawing me
near, he gave me a shove. Gently, and half-heartedley, that was
obvious, but he was pushing my away nevertheless. You're ditching
me now? Before I could voice my anger he spoke.

"Scully, you're not yourself. You're under the influence of
something. You have to believe me." 

The words sounded convincing, but there was a fraction of doubt
in his voice that encouraged me. I pushed any thoughts of being
angry aside and switched back to Seductress Scully mode. 

"I want you Mulder," I said again, having decided that, on a man
like Mulder, the cheesier the line the faster the result. We were
two feet away from each other; the view for him was decidedly
better, his eyes took in my bare legs, lingered momentarily on my
knickers, but then retreated quickly to the floor. Suppressing a
sigh I took two steps forward. "I've seen the way you look at
me." He let out a shudder. I was too good. But no sooner had the
thought entered my head when his eyes squeezed shut. 

"I'm not looking Scully. And I won't open my eyes until you put
on some clothes and agree to listen to me." The muscle in his jaw
flexed and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. I knew I
was getting to him. I was close enough to smell the chlorine.
Almost home free. With his eyes shut, I reasoned, I had the
element of surprise on my side. I stared at his face. Why had I 
never noticed how good-looking he was? My eyes darted to his
mouth drawn by his pouting lower lip. I moved in to kiss him, but
decided instead that what I really, really, fancied about my
partner was that cleft between his lower lip and chin,
perpetually in shadow. I licked it. Very lightly at first, but
when Mulder didn't react I started to kiss it. The stubble felt
good under my tongue as I made slow lazy circles. I could feel
his breath on my face.  He started to move his hands and just
when I thought he'd take me in his arms and respond in kind. I
found my hands being pulled behind me and pushed into the jacket
he had just shrugged off. 

Clasping the lapels together across my chest with one hand and
brandishing his hand-cuffs in the other, he said in a stern,
albeit slightly breathless voice. "Jesus, Scully. Get a grip."
His eyes were darkest green, I could have sworn I could see
desire in them, but I don't really know what Mulder looks like
turned on. I figured that he was actually just mad at me. I
wanted to scream in frustration. He looked so cute when he was
mad. "I mean it Scully, or I'll frog-march you out of your own
gym.  In cuffs. And that won't look good on your membership
record, will it?"

His quip brought my lust level down to zero. The little prick had
a smirk on his face. "Put on your clothes," he repeated. I sudden
flash-forward to how embarrassed I would be tomorrow. I refused
to meet his eye, but as I turned to find my clothes I couldn't
help notice that the jacket-less Mulder now looked like he could
do with trousers that were a size or two bigger. Dana one, Fox
nil, I thought gleefully,  ducking behind the screen to get
dressed. And that's when I passed out.


When I came to I was in bed, Mulder was beside me, and a nurse
was beside him. I tried to remember where I was.

"You're in hospital, Scully," said Mulder. Damn that mind-reading
trick of his.

"What?" My mind was reeling. I tried to recall why. I remembered
having back pain. But my back felt fine. My head, on the other
hand, felt like it had gone the distance with Sylvester Stallone
- in Rocky one to five.

"You've been here for 12 hours - sleeping off the effects."

"The effects?"

"You were drugged," Mulder grinned sheepishly. Somewhere a memory
stirred. Don't go there, a voice in my head warned. But the image
of jumping Mulder came flooding back. What had I been thinking?

"Oh, god,"  I mumbled.

Mulder nodded sympathetically. "That stuff Jonathan used on you
produced certain effects." He emphasised the last word and
suddenly looked shy. Jesus, I thought, I was the one who'd thrown
myself at my partner, Mulder was just the innocent bystander
(with the great view). "I had Frohike take a look at the massage
oil," he explained.

"I found the same stuff in Darlene Hickey's office. It seems
Jonathan was much in demand."

"So, Hickey's a member of the same gym as me. So what?"  I
couldn't see the link between my behaviour and our murder case,
but I was glad he was shifting the emphasis on to someone else.

"She came to see Jonathan on the morning of her partner was
killed," continued Mulder. "I checked."  I was suddenly puzzled.

"What, and just because she happened to be unwittingly exposed to
some sort of aphrodisiac that makes her a murder suspect."  It
was one of Mulder's more bizarre theories. "Honestly, Mulder. I
wanted to jump your bones, not skin you alive."  His eyes
gleamed. Damn, I hadn't  meant to revert the conversation back to
my own behaviour. I expected a wisecrack, some pseudo-flirtatious
quip. But Mulder didn't speak. When he did his voice wavered and
he eyes refused to meet mine. "From what little analysis Frohike
has done, the effects of this concoction also included homicidal
psychotic tendencies."

My whirling mind came to a stand-still. Did he just say
homicidal? I was still fuzzy about the events of yesterday, there
were still blanks in my memory.

"Oh god, Mulder. What have I done?"  He must have seen the abject
panic in my eye, and he closed his hand around mine.

"It's OK Scully, you didn't display any psychotic symptoms."

Relief flooded over me, but I was still puzzled. "I don't get it
Mulder. I remember thinking Hickey looked," I searched for the
best phrase, "taken by you. In that sense, our reactions to the
drug were the same. Now you're saying under the influence she
murdered Garrison?"

"She murdered Garrison because he refused her advances." 

"But that would mean that I...." I stopped, but I knew Mulder saw
realisation on my face. And horror. "When you refused my
advances... My god, Mulder. Did I try to kill you?"

Mulder grinned. This threw me. "Scully, I was armed, I'm almost a
foot taller than you. What did you plan to do? Strangle me with
your panties?" The grin grew wider. "Actually that's not such a
bad way to go."

"So how did you get me to see sense?"

"I didn't have to. You just kinda passed out. Probably an
allergic reaction to the drug, luckily."

"Unlucky for Garrsion, Hickey's immune system wasn't as sensitive
as mine," I murmured. "I want to analysed this stuff myself."

"No can do," replied Mulder. "I barely had enough for Frohike's
eager mitts."


"And Jonathan?"

"Is our main - and missing - suspect,"  explained Mulder. "The
cops have been to his place. They found remnants of a nice little
home chemistry set, but no Jonathan. The masseuse is vamoose, if
you'll pardon the pun."  His chuckle was cut short by his cell
phone.

I groaned. He may have been a homicidal maniac who'd made me
almost kill my partner, but now where was I going to go for my
back massages? I looked at Mulder who was in conversation on his
phone and kneading his temple with one hand. Had I just had an
impure thought about my partner? No. I was just tired. Probably
the last trace of the drug in my system.


Mulder snapped shut his phone. "That was the LA  field office. A
man they know as Raymond Ford, who matches Jonathan's
description, is wanted for the five similar crimes in southern
California. It seems he disappeared about 6 months ago."  

"So what, we wait until he appears again god knows where in
another six months?"

"It's a matter for the police, Scully. After you give them your
statement, our involvement is over."

Before I could argue Mulder leaned over and gave me a small kiss
on the cheek. "You and I are too close to the case to stay
objective. We were almost his next victims. You just rest. I'm
going home now to write my report." 

I lay in the bed thinking over what Mulder had said. Something
didn't quite figure. My memory of the previous day was sketchy.
But it was slowly coming back. And all the work of a psychotic
drug that hadn't made me feel psychotic. It had had a powerful
effect, but why didn't it cause me to react like Hickey? Jeez,
Mulder had ignored me, why hadn't I gone nuts? He might think
he's the big macho man, but I've shot Mulder before. And
drug-free. Hickey was pushed to murder because Garrison refused
her. Hell, if Tim Garrison had just said yes to a roll in the hay
he'd probably still be alive. 


A memory seeped through the haze. I wanted to banish it but it
instantly came to me crystal-clear. A kiss. We had shared one
mind-bending kiss before I passed out. And I'm not talking about
me slobbering over his chin. A proper, full-blown, passionate
kiss that sent shivers down my neck just remembering.  My
psychotic urges hadn't surfaced because Mulder didn't technically
refuse me.

I laughed. I pictured Mulder writing his report: Our suspect
escaped while I was necking with my partner. She was under the
influence of behaviour-changing drugs and I was under the
influence of a gorgeous, naked FBI agent.


THE END