From: Dani Lane <hotshoe@toast.net>
Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 19:03:45 GMT
Subject: Romancing the Phone (1/1) (NC-17)

 TITLE: Romancing the Phone
 AUTHOR: Frederica Hollywood   
 E-MAIL ADDRESS: c/o publishers at 
 rsdforty2@aol.com
 FEEDBACK:  Is lovely and will be acknowledged.
 DISTRIBUTION: Please ask.
 SPOILER WARNING: None
 RATING: NC-17
 CLASSIFICATION: MSR, albeit long-distance
 KEYWORDS: Mulder, Scully
 DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. But I can dream ...
 SUMMARY: Mulder seduces Scully into doing something she's never done
before 
 AUTHOR'S NOTES: Originally published in "Red Speedo Diaries #1" by
Two Plums and a Gherkin Press

Romancing the Phone (1/1)
by Frederica Hollywood   

Dana Scully emerged from the bathroom of her hotel room slightly damp
and wearing no more than a too-big T-shirt and panties. Her feet were
bare, she had pulled her  titian hair into an untidy ponytail on top
of her head, and her face was scrubbed clean of cosmetics. Hauling
back the heavy pink and beige floral spread and the topmost sheet on
one of the two queen-sized beds in the room, she flopped down on her
stomach to contemplate the television listings from that morning's
edition of USAToday. A moment later, the listings were tossed to the
floor. Scully  rolled over on her back and thought about her absent
partner.

"God, I miss you!" she said aloud.

Mulder was, literally, about a thousand miles away, in Des Moines,
Iowa. NCAVC had called him in over a week ago as a consultant to the
local FBI office, to help them solve a series of brutal child murders.
Since then, they'd spoken on the phone only twice. Normally, Scully
would have gone along, but as luck would have it, she was slated to be
a keynote speaker at a three-day conference for police pathologists in
Atlanta, Georgia. Skinner had refused to get her out of the engagement
so she could go to Iowa. 

She missed Mulder, and not only as her partner.

In an elevator eight months ago, following Mulder's 'death' and
subsequent 'resurrection' in New Mexico, they had finally let down the
barriers each had erected and confessed their love for one another.
Circumstances precluded further discussion or action until after
Melissa Scully's funeral. Mulder had been Scully's rock throughout the
ordeal, and when he brought her home afterward, they began to talk
about their relationship, and whether to take it to another level.
They had been more than friends, but less than lovers, throughout
their partnership, and to proceed to the next step seemed logical. But
being partners and knowing the Bureau discouraged such relationships
required them to set limits for themselves before acting on their
decision, in order to keep from being found out and separated. It took
a few days, but that done, it was merely a matter of deciding when and
where.

'When' had been a few weekends later; 'where' had been Scully's
apartment. Although she loved Mulder, Scully experienced mild
apprehension about what sex with him might be like. She was well aware
of his interest in skin magazines and adult videos, and half-dreaded
that his lovemaking would reflect some of that interest. To her
surprise, Mulder proved himself a considerate and attentive lover who
enjoyed foreplay and took his time satisfying her needs before taking
care of his own. That first time he had taken her with a kind of
fierce tenderness that told Scully more about the man in her arms than
mere words could have. In her bed, he dropped the sometimes sarcastic
facade he wore in public, and allowed himself to be vulnerable. And he
could be surprisingly playful, as on one memorable night when he had
insisted on connecting the freckles on her shoulders with an eyeliner
pencil to produce a map, he said, to his heart, now located in the
state of euphoria. 

"Why aren't you in your room?" she muttered, glaring at the telephone
on the bedside table. She debated whether to try calling him again. It
was getting late ...

The phone rang, startling her.

Scully pounced on the receiver before it could ring again, as though
all hope of future happiness depended upon it. In a way, she supposed
it did, for that night at least.

"Scully," she said, breathlessly.

"Hi. It's me."

"Mulder!"  She sat up, gripping the plastic handset with both hands.
"I tried calling you earlier."

"I was swimming laps."

"Not in the red Speedo? That thing is barely legal." 

"In the red Speedo," said Mulder. "It was that or go naked, and I
didn't think anyone but you would appreciate me in the raw. Besides,"
he added, "I'm sentimentally attached to that suit."

"Mulder, you are the least sentimental person I know."

"But I am!" he insisted.  "I've felt that way about it since that
night by the pond at your mom's, when you peeled it off me. I keep
hoping you'll magically appear and do it again."

Scully remembered that night clearly. A satisfied smile curved her
full lips. "You look great wearing moonlight," she told him.

"They used to call it being sky-clad. And you look pretty good wearing
moonlight, too."

She dropped the pretense of being a sophisticated government agent.
"G-man, I miss you."

"I miss you, too. How's the conference going?"

"About the way you'd expect: Learned treatises liberally laced with
black humor."

"You forensic pathologists are a wild and crazy bunch."

"How's the case going?" Scully asked. She didn't want to talk about
pathologists. "Are you close to an arrest?"

"We're getting there." Mulder paused before continuing, "I don't
believe in capital punishment, Scully, but this guy ought to suffer at
least as much as those little girls did."

She folded her legs beneath her. "I wish I could be there for you,
love."

"Me, too. Being inside this bastard's head is getting to me. Most
nights I come back here and swim until I'm exhausted. Then I take the
hottest shower I can stand, but the filth still sticks ... Actually,
Scully, it's probably a good thing you're not here. It's bad. Worse
than bad."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I wish you could forget." Mulder's
eidetic memory was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. 

"I'll be okay once I'm out of here."

 A silence descended on them, lasting until Scully said, "Talk to me,
Mulder. About anything."

"I was just thinking ... "

"Yes?"

"About what we'd be doing if we were together tonight instead of half
a continent apart." 

Scully reached around with one hand and piled the pillows on her bed
against the headboard before lounging back against them. "And what
would we be doing?"

He chuckled. "Oh, since it's Friday night, we'd probably be sitting on
your couch watching the creature feature on TV. And I'd have my arms
around you."

"We can pretend. Go on."

"During the commercials, I'd kiss you."

"I'd kiss you back, although I'd probably be a little worried because
you were waiting for the commercials."

"We're watching the Frank Langella 'Dracula.' I'm picking up
pointers."

Scully liked Frank Langella's romantic portrayal of the bloodsucker,
and Mulder knew it.
"Okay, I can live with that."

"One of my hands might sort of casually drift down and cop a feel."

"Maybe my hand would be on your knee."

"And?"

Scully chuckled. "I'd run my fingers up and down the inside of your
thigh."

Mulder said, "That would feel so good I'd have to kiss you again.
Maybe do a little exploring, a little tongue tango."

"Sounds nice, Mulder." She thought of his warm, pliant mouth parting
her lips, and his tongue, tasting faintly of iced tea, slipping into
her mouth to flirt with hers.

"Then I wouldn't be able to help myself. I'd have to pull you onto my
lap and hold you close."

"My fingers would find that sensitive place along your collarbone. I'd
bury my face against your neck and feel the pulse in your throat on my
mouth."

"The next thing I would do," said Mulder, slowly, as  though giving
the matter great thought, " is unbutton your shirt and unhook--Scully,
what are you wearing right now?"

Feeling a little foolish, she said, "I'm wearing one of your T-shirts,
the dark blue one with the hole in neck, and panties."

"I hope you washed that shirt since I wore it."

"Nope." She buried her nose in a handful of the fabric and inhaled.
"And I'm in bed."

"Me, too. Well," he amended, "on it. I just got out of the shower."

"What do you have on?"

"Sweatpants, no shirt. Shower hair."

"Sticking up in little spikes all over your head?" Scully asked even
as she pictured a a newly showered Mulder in her mind. She smiled,
liking what she imagined. 

"Mm-hmm. And I'll bet you've got your hair up the way I hate it."

She laughed and reached for the elastic. "I'm taking it down ...
there!"

"That's much better."

"Um, what would you do after unbuttoning my shirt?"

Mulder's voice grew soft, almost dreamy. "I'd look at you, touch you,
kiss you some more ... Your turn."

"I've got your shirt open, too. I'm running my fingers through the
hair on your chest and watching your face."

"Ouch!"

"What? What is it?"

"You pulled some out!"

"Mulder!" But she couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry. I'll kiss it
better."

"My hand just slipped between your thighs."

"Oh god!"

"Dana, beautiful Dana, I'm reasonably good, but I'm not that good.
Besides, I haven't pulled your jeans off yet."

"Not that!"

"What then?" He sounded genuinely baffled.

"Phone sex!  We're doing phone sex!"

"Yes, we are. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes."

"Why? We'd be doing all this stuff to each other, and more, anyway if
we were together. Why can't we talk about doing it?"

"I just can't."

"You were doing great, Dana."

"Mulder!"

"You feel embarrassed about describing to me how we do the wild thing,
but not about the actual act? You're one weird chick, Scully. It's
probably why I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Fox, but you never did time in a Catholic girls'
school with nuns like Sister Mary Darth Vader."

"No, I didn't. On the other hand, I did grow up in New England,
repression center of the universe."

"Mulder, you can't equate Protestant repression with Catholic guilt."

"Why not?"

She thought about it. "I don't know. You just can't."

"You don't sound like my Dana Scully. She'd have all the arguments
right at hand and would coolly refute every theory I presented." He
lowered his voice, inviting confidentiality. "You can tell me: If I
pricked you with a pin, would you ooze green gooey stuff?"

"No, Mulder, I wouldn't."

There was an awkward pause.


"Scully?"

"I'm here."

"Humor me just this once. Please, Scully?"

Mulder never pressed her to do anything she didn't want to do in bed.
It simply wasn't in his character. A simple 'no,' and he would move on
to something else, without recrimination.. And since there was very
little she wouldn't let him do, or try, refusing to make love over the
telephone seemed foolish. And it would distract him for a little while
from the ugliness he was dealing with there in Iowa.

"I'll try, Mulder."

"Thanks, Dana."

"Uh, so, where were we?" 

"I'm caressing you through your jeans."

"Okay." Scully thought a moment. "I'd pull your head down and kiss
your ears. I'd nibble your ear lobe,  maybe put my tongue in and blow
a little." 

"Dana ... Do that and my hands would be all over your soft, white body
... "

"Maybe we should go into the bedroom."

"You never want to make love on the couch." He sounded like a child
deprived of a treat. 

 She smiled again, and wondered if he was doing the lip thing. "Well,
since this is phone sex, we can pretend it's a bigger couch."

"I'd never let you fall off, Dana."

"I know." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Let's see, I've moved
from your ears back to your mouth. I've got your lower lip between my
teeth now."

"Can you feel me beneath you?"

"Yes," she whispered, and the strange thing was, she could almost feel
him pressing against the back of her thigh.  "I've gotten one hand
between us, somehow. I touch you."

Mulder gave a credible rendition of a groan. "I've turned off the TV.
There's only one light on in the room, the one on the end table beside
us. It's just enough so I can see your face. I love to watch your face
when we make love."

"I like watching you, too. Your eyes change color. I can always tell
where we are by looking at your eyes."

"You can?" he sounded surprised.

"They start out that clear hazel color, but as you get more aroused,
they turn green. You really didn't know that?"

"No one's ever mentioned it before."

"Fox?" she asked. "Can you tell about me?"

"You smile," he said. "It's a little, secret kind of smile. But the
closer we get to the moment, the more your mouth curves up at the
corners."

Wondering, Scully ran her fingers over her lips. He was right. "I'm
smiling a little right now."

"Good. We've fallen over sideways. I'm half on top of you. Your legs
are draped over mine. I've still got one arm around you, holding you
so you won't fall off the couch. My free hand is at your breast,
rolling the nipple between my fingers until it's pink and hard, like a
tiny rosebud. My lips trail down your throat and find your other
breast and I take it into my mouth."

As she listened to him, Scully's left hand drifted to her breast,
kneading and fondling it in imitation of his words. She smothered a
gasp as she realized what she was doing, and firmly grasped the
receiver with both hands. "I--I press you closer and slide one hand
inside the back of your jeans."

"I move down some more, kissing you all the way. I open the snap of
your jeans and ease the zipper down a little bit so I can kiss your
bellybutton--"

"Hold on for just a minute," Scully said. She dropped the telephone
and ran into the bathroom for a glass of water. A look in the mirror
showed her a woman whose face was flushed and whose eyes were dilated
like a cat's. She was panting slightly,  too. She carried the glass of
water back to the bed, thinking if worse came to worse she could
always throw it over herself. "I'm back."

"What happened?"

"I got thirsty so I got a glass of water."

"Oh." Although Mulder tried to disguise it, he couldn't quite keep the
disappointment out of his voice.

"Fox, this conversation is doing things to me."

"Good things or bad things?" He sounded hopeful now.

"They'd be terrific things if only you were here. " She took another
sip of water.

"Do you want to stop?"

She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see the gesture.
"No. You've created a monster. And it's getting easier." 

"Good." From the tone of his voice, she knew he was grinning. "Your
turn. What do we do next?"

She shut her eyes and thought about it. "We're standing up. I pull off
all your clothes and drop them on the floor. For once, Fox, you're
naked before I am."

"Not for long! I pull the shirt from your shoulders, then I take your
jeans and panties off. My fingers search out all your sensitive spots,
and my lips follow them, slowly, tasting you."

"My hands are on you. I let them roam from your throat along your
shoulders, and down over your chest and belly before wrapping my arms
around your waist and pressing my whole body against you."

Mulder sighed. "That feels so good, Dana ..."

"I reach around you and do the same thing to your back, and when I get
to your ass, I knead the muscles with my fingers and pull you against
me, hard."

"Did you say 'hard'? Did you mean--"

"--Get on with it, Mulder, before I have to pour this glass of water
over myself."

 "Okay, okay! I persuade you to lay back down on our big, squashy
couch, on your stomach. Starting at your toes, I kiss and lick my way
up your body. I tickle the backs of your knees, bury my face in the
crease where your thighs turn into your bottom, run my tongue up your
spine. When I get to your neck, I nuzzle my way through your soft,
sweet-smelling hair to the hollow at the base of your skull. Then I
turn you over and I stretch out on top of you."

Scully thought she heard an odd catch in his voice she hadn't heard
before. "Mulder,  what--?"  Comprehension dawned. "Mulder, are you--?"

"Yes, I am," he panted. "Because you're not here and I have to work
with what I have. Aren't you?"

She couldn't bring herself to admit that her hand had strayed again,
this time sliding between her legs, where she stroked the soft,
sensitive skin of her inner thighs as Mulder loved to do. The memory
of the never-to-be forgotten sensation of his mouth when he kissed her
there set her heart racing. Then, as though they had taken on a life
of their own, her restless fingers slid beneath beneath the elastic to
mimic his lips and tongue moving over and in her. 

"C'mon, Scully, talk dirty."

"I ... " She licked her lips, imagining his lean, naked body above
her, his face inches from hers, his eyes mysteriously shifting color.
"Your eyes are jungle-colored," she whispered as she stroked herself.

"And your mouth is shaped like a crescent moon,  swollen from my
kisses."

" ... I open my legs to you ..."

"... and I slide deep inside you ... You always look surprised when it
happens, even after so many nights together."

"And you always kiss me at that moment," Scully said. She clamped the
phone to her ear with her shoulder and pulled one knee up to her
chest, hugging it close in a one-armed embrace. It was a poor
substitute for Mulder, but as he  had said, you had to work with what
you had. "I put my arms around your shoulders and draw my knees up.
You feel so good."

"And when I know you're comfortable, we begin to move. I cradle you
carefully in my arms so I don't crush you, and we rock back and forth,
gently at first, and then faster and harder, until we're all that's
left in the universe."

"My arms ache, I'm holding you so tightly." She rubbed harder.
Everything she felt seemed to be centered low in her abdomen, a
sensation of fullness not dissimilar to orgasm, but not quite the
same, either, though equally pleasant. She caught her lip in her teeth
as her hips suddenly arched upward. She felt breathless. "Mulder,
I--Oh ... " She was only just aware of Mulder calling out her name
over and over again in a harsh whisper,  then there was silence at the
other end of the telephone line.


"Fox?"  asked Scully a score of heartbeats later.

"I'm here," he gasped. "Just barely. God! Are you okay, Dana? Did you
come, too?"

"Yes, I think so. It was so  ... different." She added, "And I don't
think I'm ever going to be able to look at a telephone the same way
again."

He laughed, the sound coming from deep in his throat. "Me either."

Suspicion rose in Scully's mind. "Mulder," she said, "you've never
done this before either, have you?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does, in a weird sort of way. It means I was your first."

"I want to be your last." He grunted in her ear as he shifted around
on his solitary bed. "I'm pulling you close, folding you against my
heart."

He always held her afterward, because he wanted to and she liked it.
It was one of the nicest things he did for her when they made love.
"I'm throwing a leg over you so you can't run away," she told him.

"The only place I'm interested in running to is wherever you are."

"Same here."

"Tell me how you feel," Mulder whispered.
 
 "My pulse is racing, and my breath is short," she whispered back.
"It's not as intense as when we really make love, but it still feels
great."

"And best of all, you'll be able to walk normally in the morning."

Now she laughed. The morning after their first night together, he had
teased her, gently, about walking like a duck.

 Something else occurred to her: "Mulder, we didn't use any
protection!"

"Relax, Scully. This was phone sex. Nothing will happen."

"It could," she insisted.

"What, for instance?"

"Isn't this how they make Baby Bells?"


For a moment, there was dead silence at the other end of the line.
Then she heard him start to laugh. It was infectious, and before she
knew it, Scully was laughing, too. 

"Scully?" said Mulder, when they finally calmed down, "I love you
because you make me laugh. Now go to sleep and dream about me, because
I'm going to dream about you."

"Okay," she murmured. "G'night, G-man. I love you." She cradled the
receiver and switched off the lamp. Sleep claimed her in a matter of
minutes, but not before a final image presented itself to her mind.
The image was of herself and Mulder, pushing a stroller through a
park. In the stroller, tenderly swaddled against the elements, was a
cellphone. Scully was still grinning as she dozed off.

The End