Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 10/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Thankfully, most of the diehard workaholics had gone home.  Mulder 
was able to sneak from the garage to the building without notice, 
although there was a near miss with a secretary working late in the 
labs. 
 
Tiptoeing down the hallway toward Mulder's office, he became aware 
that her head had come up and she was regarding him with large, 
doe-like eyes.  "Agent Mulder," she called, standing up and leaning 
over the desk to better display her assets, "Agent Mulder, I need 
some help." 
 
"With what?" he asked cautiously, edging to the far side of the wall. 
 
She pouted prettily at him; two days ago, he would have jumped at 
the chance to, um, help her--or helped at the chance to jump her, 
but not tonight.  No way, no how, no time.  "I need someone to 
proofread my report." 
 
"Can't help you," he told her briskly, "Big case, gotta see Pendrell, he 
still working?" 
 
More pouting, wet and luscious lips beckoning to him.  "But Agent 
Mulder, I need help more than he does." 
 
Don't go there, he told himself, when Sparky actually, incredibly, 
showed signs of responding to this.  Or to her pheromones.   
 
Or the assets so generously displayed.  Or whatever.  "Sorry--"  
What the hell was her name again?  Oh, yeah, Sheryl, her name was 
Sheryl...."Sorry, Sheryl, maybe next time." 
 
Still pouting, she sank back in her chair, looking crushed.  No time to 
feel guilty, he told himself sternly and abandoned subterfuge, fleeing 
down the hall to the lab as if Cancerman were still looking for a good 
blow job.... 
 
Bent over a microscope, Pendrell looked up at him, startled, when he 
burst through the door and locked it.  "Agent Mulder!  Are you all 
right?" 
 
He panted.  God, sex was going to kill him, he hadn't been this 
winded since, since....well, whenever he'd last been this winded.  
"Fine, Pendrell.  What have you got on that virus from the sample.  
Any way of combatting it?  Vaccinating against it?"  He arched his 
eyebrows hopefully.  "A cure?" 
 
Pendrell gave him a puzzled look.  "Well, I was trying to reach Agent 
Scully--it doesn't seem exceptionally dangerous, Agent Mulder, do we 
need to alert the CDC?" 
 
Hysteria threatened.  Hello, CDC, this is the FBI, I want to report a 
new plague of fucking....."No, that's not necessary." 
 
Pendrell's eyes were wide.  "Should we contact the Army?" 
 
Mulder's mind reeled at the thought of all those sexually frustrated 
soldiers--"No," he barked, panicked at the images that flooded his 
mind.  "Not necessary, not necessary at all.  What have you found 
out, Pendrell?" 
 
"Well, Agent Scully would be able to follow this better, but come and 
look at this."  Pendrell gestured to him.   
 
Narrowing his eyes, Mulder studied him, but it appeared to be safe, 
Pendrell's ingenuous gaze was the same as always.  Standing beside 
the younger man, he peered into the microscope.  "What am I 
supposed to be seeing?" 
 
"Sections of the virus.  The DNA sequences are really weird, Agent 
Mulder.  If I didn't know better, I'd say they were not found in nature." 
 
Mulder peered at the blurry image.  Shit, he'd left his glasses at 
home.  "But you know better?" 
 
"Well, everything has to be found in nature."  Pendrell went peculiarly 
silent. 
 
Raising his head, Mulder was appalled to find Pendrell leaning close, 
his nostrils flared.    
 
Pendrell smiled dreamily.  "You smell really good, Agent Mulder." 
 
Oh, shit, oh, shit....."Pendrell."  He swallowed hard.  "What about the 
virus?" 
 
One of Pendrell's hands came up and traced his lower lip--oh, hell, he 
had to get out of here.  "Agent Mulder."  Pendrell's voice was soft, 
almost dazed.  "Lie down across the table, please." 
 
No way, no how, no time....he took one step backward, and another.  
Pendrell moved toward him, those eyes fixed on his mouth.  
Panicking again, he bolted and was brought down in a flying tackle.  
By Pendrell.   
 
That was how low he'd fallen, that Pendrell could bring him down. 
 
Rolling, he tucked and managed to break away, but Pendrell was 
between him and the door, a glazed look in his eyes.  "Agent Mulder, 
I just want to hold you!" 
 
Mulder dodged in the nick of time, just as those outstretched hands 
reached for his sweater, backed around the other lab table.  
"Pendrell, Pendrell, I understand, but I don't have time for this, I need 
to find out about that virus!" 
 
Pendrell gave him a soulful look, licked his lips.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, I 
never realized just how handsome you were."  He approached again 
and Mulder kept moving, keeping the table between himself and 
Pendrell.  "The virus will still be there, Agent Mulder." 
 
Mulder kept backing, suddenly feeling foolish.  Oh, honestly, this was 
ridiculous, Pendrell was a techno-dweeb, he could deal with him--
taking a stand, he put on a stern expression.  "Pendrell, I don't want 
to have to hurt you." 
 
Pendrell gave him a bashful smile, a sidelong glance.  "Um, Agent 
Mulder, I really don't think you could.  You're a psychologist, they 
always do yoga or t'ai chi, and I took--"  He moved forward into a 
ridiculous stance.  "Jiujitsu.  Brown belt, actually."  He blushed, licked 
his lips again.  "Now, Agent Mulder, I just want to give you a little kiss, 
there's no need to be afraid of me." 
 
Afraid of Pendrell, Mulder thought incredulously and swung as 
Pendrell advanced toward him.   
 
Whoops, Pendrell hadn't been kidding, he flew over Pendrell's 
shoulder, was caught and held there, and set gently on the floor.  
Pendrell's face hung upside down before him.  "Agent Mulder, did 
anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you struggle?" 
 
Oh, shit.  Looking back--nope, he couldn't go backward, Pendrell's 
legs were behind him--he had to go the other way--sliding forward 
frantically, Mulder rolled up on the balls of his feet, leaning forward, 
and promptly fell back again as Pendrell snatched the collar of his 
sweater.   
 
"Pendrell," he choked, "That hurts." 
 
"I'm sorry," Pendrell mourned and bent over him, warm puppy tongue 
sliding underneath the collar...oh, god, Pendrell was licking him. 
 
He pushed off hard on his feet, sliding backwards across the tile, but 
Pendrell caught him by the ankles, straddling him.  "Agent Mulder, I 
really don't want to hurt you, I want to love you."  He bent and sucked 
on Mulder's lower lip, running his tongue along Mulder's clenched 
teeth.   
 
Sparky, that turncoat, that fiend, that completely debauched roue, 
twitched hopefully.   
 
God, he was becoming conditioned, everytime anyone sucked on his 
lower lip, he was going to get hard--no, that always happened 
anyway, no news there, never mind.... 
 
"Pendrell," he pleaded, a little breathless by this time, "Puh-lease 
don't do this, you really don't wanna do this." 
 
"Yes, I do."   Pendrell put his face against Mulder's, rubbing his beard 
against Mulder's stubble.  "I was thinking about Agent Scully," he 
purred ecstatically, "But you're the next best thing.  Ooh,  Agent 
Mulder, those big hazel eyes drive me crazy--did you know that 
sometimes your eyes are green, sometimes they're brown?" 
 
Mulder swallowed hard.  "Pendrell, I'm gonna throw up if you don't 
stop, did you use these lines on Scully?" 
 
"I didn't have to."  Pendrell beamed.  "Agent Scully, she's a real take 
charge kind of person.  But you're shy, I can understand that, I'm 
kinda shy myself, Agent Mulder.  But you don't have to be shy with 
me."  He took Mulder's hand in a come-along grip, beloved by law 
professionals everywhere.  "Honestly, I only want to love you--you 
have the cutest little bottom, Agent Mulder, I never realized how cute 
a man's bottom could be until I saw yours." 
 
Mulder came up with him perforce, wincing as Pendrell's expert 
handling pinched a nerve or two.  He should have paid more attention 
during his Quantico training, he should have taken something more 
strenuous than yoga, he should have drawn his gun before ever 
coming in here...."Uh, Pendrell."  he took in a deep breath, forcing 
himself to sound calm.  "Now Pendrell, I know you're having strange 
feelings right now, feelings you might not--"   
 
He considered Pendrell thoughtfully for a moment and amended his 
statement.  "Or that you might have had before, but you don't have to 
act on them."   
 
Pendrell didn't seem to be paying attention, Pendrell's hands stroked 
up under his sweater, pinched his chest about a half inch below his 
nipples.  "Ow!  Pendrell, if you're trying to pinch my nipples, your aim 
is a little off." 
 
"Ooh, sorry."  Adjusting, Pendrell hit the target, making Mulder 
clench his teeth.   
 
Shit, that almost felt good, god, he was depraved, this was Pendrell! 
 
Pendrell sniffed him again.  "You smell sooo good, Agent Mulder.  
Oooh, I never realized just how good."  He gave Mulder a swooning 
look and did something moderately painful that Mulder couldn't quite 
follow, and which put Mulder face down across the lab table--there 
was a snick and cold metal closed around Mulder's wrists.  "I really 
don't want to have to hurt you, Agent Mulder, I just want to love you 
like you need to be loved.  I can see it in your eyes, all that 
loneliness.  I'm lonely, too, sometimes, Agent Mulder, I know how it 
is." 
 
Hell, hell, hell, hell.....He twisted his head around in sudden panic.  
"Pendrell, what are you doing?"  Pendrell's arms went around his 
waist; Pendrell's head rested on his back. 
 
"Just holding you," Pendrell sighed gustily.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, it 
feels so good--you feel so good, and you smell good enough to eat." 
 
Relief made his knees weak.  Thank god, the puppy didn't know what 
to do.  "That's nice, Pendrell."  He tried to keep his voice gentle.  "I'm 
glad you like me."  He just wished Pendrell didn't like him quite so 
well. 
 
Pendrell's face pressed against his sweater.  "Oh, I do, Agent 
Mulder," he murmured, "I more than like you.  Those big lonely eyes, 
that beautiful mouth--has anyone ever told you that you have a 
beautiful mouth?  A beautiful, sexy mouth?" 
 
"Not recently," Mulder admitted.  "Pendrell, this isn't very 
comfortable--look, if you want to love me, shouldn't you take the cuffs 
off?  Pendrell?  Pendrell?  Pendrell, what are you doing?"  His voice 
was panicky again as he felt Pendrell's fingers snake down his belly.   
 
"I want to see if you have those cute little dimples on your butt," 
Pendrell sighed happily, reaching for the buttons on Mulder's jeans.  
"I'll just bet you do, Agent Mulder." 
 
In fact, he did.  He wasn't at all sure that everyone didn't have them.  
"Pendrell," he began, but gasped when Pendrell yanked his jeans 
down to his ankles.  "Don't *do* that, Pendrell, please."  He was 
perilously close to whimpering again.  And Sparky preened himself, 
glad of the relative freedom of his shorts. 
 
Pendrell was nuzzling the small of his back, wet nose or tongue 
rubbing against his skin.  Eeew.  "Oooh, you wear boxers, Agent 
Mulder.  Very nice, I always think boxers are a lot sexier than briefs."  
The boxers came down, all the way and Sparky stretched out a little. 
"I knew it--oh, Agent Mulder, those dimples are just soooo--"  A warm 
tongue touched both of them, in turn. 
 
Mulder shivered, aroused in spite of himself.  Down, Sparky, he told 
his cock desperately, you don't want to fuck Pendrell--or worse yet, 
have Pendrell fuck me!   
 
Sparky, as usual, didn't listen.   
 
Oh, great, now Pendrell was fondling his buttocks.  "Oh, your butt is 
just so cute, Agent Mulder," he crooned, making Mulder's teeth 
clench again. 
 
"So is yours, Pendrell," he grated, feeling that some return was called 
for.  God, he'd lost his mind, he'd just complimented Pendrell's butt. 
 
Pendrell's hands shaped and smoothed his ass.  "And your skin is 
soooo soft, Agent Mulder," he murmured, breathing a little harder.  
"Oh, my, look at this." 
 
Mulder craned his neck around.  "Look at what?  Ow, ow, 
goddammit, Pendrell, what are you trying to do?"   
 
Pendrell looked up at him, suddenly crestfallen.  "Playing with your, 
um, thing." 
 
My thing?  My thing?  He rolled his eyes.  "Pendrell, are you a 
virgin?" 
 
Another bashful smile.  "Well, I was, sir, but Agent Scully took care of 
that for me." 
 
Mulder rested his forehead on the table for a moment before looking 
back.  "It's not a thing, Pendrell, it's a cock or dick.  And those 
things--ow, dammit--that you're tugging on are called balls.  Don't 
you ever jack off, you don't handle them like marbles, for god's sake." 
 
Pendrell was blushing.  "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, I've never touched 
anyone's, um, balls before." 
 
Including his own, no doubt.  "Did you ever jack off?"  Mulder's voice 
was dangerously calm.  "You know, play with yourself?" 
 
Pendrell blushed again.  Anymore, and he'd look like he had sunburn.  
"Um, I'm Catholic, sir, we're not supposed to." 
 
A brilliant idea came to him.  "Pendrell, if you're Catholic, you aren't 
supposed to be doing this, either." 
 
That caused a moment of concern.  Pendrell frowned faintly.  "Agent 
Scully is Catholic," he finally returned, "And if it's good enough for 
Agent Scully, it's good enough for me."  He beamed at Mulder and 
returned to what he was doing, albeit more gently. 
 
Mulder put his forehead on the table again.  Oh, god, it was starting 
to feel good.  He felt like he was corrupting a choir boy.  A child.  A 
puppy.  "Pendrell," he muttered and raised his head again, abruptly 
inspired.  "You really don't want to do this.  I, uh, I have herpes." 
 
Another pause, Pendrell's hand still cupping his balls.  "Um.  You 
have condoms, don't you, sir?  Down in your office?  Or do you keep 
them in your wallet?" 
 
Mulder swallowed.  How the hell did the little twerp know that?  Was 
he going through Mulder's desk?  "Pendrell, I have the kind of herpes 
that goes through latex."  
 
Pendrell's face fell again.  "There's no such thing."  And he managed 
to look so woebegone that Mulder felt guilty all over again.  "You just 
don't like me." 
 
"No, that's not true, Pendrell."  Mulder swallowed hard, looking at 
Pendrell's sorrowful expression.  "I like you, Pendrell, I just don't want 
to have sex with you."   
 
Oh, god, Pendrell was getting ready to cry, it was like kicking a 
puppy, what kind of man was he, what kind of asshole was he that 
he'd have sex with total strangers in an elevator, but wouldn't show a 
kid a good time?  "Pendrell, don't, please, it's just that--"   
 
Pendrell's lower lip trembled.  His eyes were shiny, brimming with 
tears.   
 
Oh, shit, shit, shit.  "Pendrell, please--"  Pendrell turned away, his 
shoulders slumped.  "Aw, Pendrell, don't do that, please, I do like you, 
honestly, I do." 
 
The shoulders trembled.   "No, it's all right, I understand." 
 
He craned his head around as far as he could, biting his lip at the 
sound of a muffled sob.  "Aw, Pendrell, don't do that.  Come on, turn 
around, don't cry." 
 
"I just wanted to love you."  Pendrell took in a hitching breath, 
hiccoughed miserably. 
 
Mulder squirmed.  Oh, right, Mr. I Fucked Everyone In the Elevator, 
break the kid's heart, it's not like he has a lot of friends in the 
Bureau....."And I appreciate that, Pendrell, honestly I do.  But I don't 
have time right now." 
 
"I just wanted to hold you close," Pendrell sobbed, raising a hand to 
his face--presumably to wipe his eyes.  "You're so beautiful, Agent 
Mulder."  He cast a brief, miserable look over his shoulder.  "And you 
have such a beautiful, magnificent tushie." 
 
Tushie?  Mulder closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the table 
again, demoralized.   
 
Oh, he was going to hate himself in the morning if he did this, but he 
was going to hate himself anyway....."Okay, Pendrell, if that's what it 
takes to prove I like you, go and get the lube and condoms from my 
desk."  He couldn't believe he said it, couldn't believe he was going to 
do it. 
 
"Really?  You mean it?"  Pendrell's tone was dazzled, joyful.  A little 
suspicious, Mulder looked over his shoulder again.  Well, his eyes 
were red......"Oh, Agent Mulder, you won't be sorry, sir."  Darting 
forward, Pendrell kissed Mulder's left buttock and ran for the door.  
"I'll be right back, Agent Mulder, don't go anywhere."   
 
Go anywhere?  How was he supposed to go anywhere with his pants 
down?   
 
Oh, before Veblein's virus, he wouldn't have let it stand in his way, but 
now he'd just be jumping from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.  
Any potential rescuer would only want to fuck him.  "And don't forget 
the lube," he called after Pendrell, and winced, remembering the 
secretary.  Shit, shit, shit....but nobody, nobody was fucking him 
without lube.  Especially after the day he'd had. 
 
He wondered if he could scrunch up enough to get his linked hands 
over his ass.  He wondered if it would do him any good?  Oh, he had 
to take yoga, he had to scoff at anyone taking karate in any shape or 
form, and people said he was a genius.... 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 11/? 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
By the time Pendrell returned to the lab, he was missing a certain 
amount of skin on his ass, his shoulders hurt, but his hands were in 
front of him.  Swollen, sore, but in front of him.  And his shorts were 
back up--the jeans were harder to manage.... 
 
Pendrell's face fell.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, I told you to stay where you 
were.  Oh, well, I'll take care of that." 
 
Mulder backed up against the table, but Pendrell only leaned up on 
his toes to suck on his lower lip again.  Sparky, who had flagged 
slightly, perked up again.  He was going to have to seriously consider 
castration if he didn't get some rest soon.....he wondered how much 
energy he was using with each orgasm and realized he was hungry 
again.  Maybe he should just suck Pendrell off, he could use the 
protein..... 
 
Turning him to face the table again, Pendrell looped his linked wrists 
over a table fixture.  He hoped to god it wasn't going to spout flames 
or something toxic. 
 
"Oh, Agent Mulder," Pendrell's breath was warm on the back of his 
neck, he reached around and managed to grab Sparky 
enthusiastically. 
 
Mulder winced.  "Carefully, Pendrell, carefully." 
 
"Ooh, I will be," Pendrell pressed himself against the back of Mulder's 
leg.   
 
God, he'd forgotten, Scully had said that Pendrell was hung nearly as 
well as Skinner.  Oh, shit, he'd forgotten, he'd forgotten, how the hell 
was he going to go through with this after what Chester had done, 
after what--let's see, how many were there?--eight men in the 
elevator had done, after what Skinner had done yesterday.... 
 
Oh, god, Pendrell had managed to find his nipples without help this 
time, he was gently pinching them and, oh, shit, it felt good, too 
good, he was never going to live this one down..... 
 
Pendrell's fingers tugged his balls roughly again, making him yelp.  
"Goddammit, don't you know how to do this? " 
 
"Sorry, sorry," Pendrell's breathing was a little ragged and his fingers 
moved more gently, rolling Mulder's balls inside the sac of warm skin.  
"Ooh, that's so nice, Agent Mulder, you're getting all hard." 
 
Well, that much was true.  Sparky was a bigger tramp than he was.  
His worst fear would have been to find out that Sparky would respond 
to anyone--at least his confrontation with Cancerman had relieved 
him of that.  But Pendrell?   
 
He was never going to tell Scully about this, never.... 
 
Leaning over the table, his hands cuffed together, hooked to a lab 
fixture he didn't recognize, Mulder continued to search for options.   
"Wouldn't you like to experience the thrill of having a hard cock up 
your ass?  I mean, fucking one hole isn't all that different from 
fucking another--this could really be a novel experience for you."  He 
didn't hold out much hope for this approach, either, but it was worth 
a try.   
 
Pendrell humped his leg, breathing harder.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, we 
can do that next time."   
 
Next time?  Mulder shuddered. 
 
Pendrell pushed his sweater up, licked down his spine to the dimples 
that entranced him, spending a good deal of sloppy time on them.  
God, he was drooling, he had to be--and he had a tongue like a dog 
Mulder had once known.... 
 
And that fucking traitor Sparky just kept twitching anxiously, waiting 
for some attention. 
 
Pendrell's breath was hot on his ass; he snatched the bottle of lube 
off the table and Mulder craned his neck again, trying to determine 
his immediate danger.  "Pendrell, you have to do this gradually, I'm, 
um, I'm a little sore, AD Skinner, ah, initiated me yesterday."   
 
Not to mention the guys in the elevator today, Chester tonight.....but 
he didn't want to say that, he didn't want Pendrell to think he was 
cheap or easy.... 
 
The sweet bashfulness had vanished from Pendrell's eyes.  In fact, 
there was a slightly manic glaze there now that made Mulder entirely 
nervous.   "If it's good enough for AD Skinner, it's good enough for 
me," he told Mulder huskily and stabbed roughly between Mulder's 
buttocks with a slippery finger.  "Agent Mulder, how do you feel about 
spanking?" 
 
No.  Please, no.  Not spanking.  Please, he'd even believe in god if 
this didn't happen.  "I hate spanking, Pendrell." 
 
A cool hand massaged one of his buttocks.  "I d-don't," Pendrell 
breathed and--whack!--cracked one hand across the flesh he'd 
massaged.  "Oooh, I branded you, everyone will know you're mine, 
Agent Mulder." 
 
His?   
 
Outraged, Mulder craned his neck to see a red palm print on his ass.  
"Pendrell, dammit, if you like spanking so much, unlock these 
handcuffs and I'll spank *you*!" 
 
Pendrell gave him a look again, one that suggested a slightly 
inexperienced satyr.   
 
On the other hand, everything he'd ever read about satyrs suggested 
they liked it a little rough.  Oh, god, please don't let this happen, bad 
enough he was corrupting a puppy, please don't let the puppy 
change into Godzilla.   
 
God, if there was a god, hated him.  Scully had actually had a good 
time with Pendrell--although he was starting to think that Scully could 
have a good time leaning against the washing machine in her 
building--there had to be something this guy could do.   
 
It was time for him to take charge.  "Okay, Pendrell, I've done this 
before and you haven't.  I want you to follow my instructions, okay?" 
 
Pendrell gaped at him, beamed and leaned forward to nibble on the 
nape of his neck.  "Ooh, Agent M-mulder, I didn't think I'd ever f-f-ind 
a mentor.  Let alone be lucky enough to have you." 
 
Asshole, Mulder thought and gritted his teeth.  He was going to 
mentor Pendrell's heels into the air on Skinner's conference table if 
he could possibly arrange it.  Skinner liked the little twerp, maybe 
he'd been watching Pendrell's ass, too.  "First things first--suck my 
balls." 
 
Pendrell blinked.  "Are you sure that's first?  Shouldn't you be 
sucking mine?" 
 
"Well, sure, that would work, where are the keys to these things?"  
Mulder narrowed his eyes, then sighed as it became apparent that 
Pendrell wasn't going to unlock him. 
 
"Okay," Pendrell agreed, but frowned.  "We should have a spreader 
bar, shouldn't we?  To keep your legs open?  I could use a broom 
handle." 
 
Mulder cringed.  "No, Pendrell, that wouldn't work.  They have to have 
straps to go around arms or legs."   
 
Now why, he wondered, did he even know that?  His life was weirder 
than he'd thought, even with the recent turn of events. 
 
"A butt plug would be nice," Pendrell mourned.  "How about an 
Ehrlenmeyer flask?" 
 
His sphincter slammed shut.  "No goddamn way--are you fucking 
crazy, Pendrell, that's glass!" 
 
Disappointed, Pendrell sulked for a moment.  "What about the broom 
handle." 
 
"I don't like splinters in my asshole." 
 
Another moment of thought and Pendrell brightened.  "I've got a 
banana in my lunch bag." 
 
"I'm allergic to bananas," Mulder told him, starting to panic again.  
"Pendrell, the only thing you need to put in my ass is your cock."  
God, and X had said that he and Scully talked a lot.  Obviously, he 
hadn't met Pendrell.  "Will you just for god's sake get to work if this is 
what you want to do?"  He couldn't believe the words had come from 
his mouth.  "Or just unlock these things and let me go." 
 
Pendrell's hand cupped one cheek familiarly.  "Ooh, I do want to," he 
muttered and jabbed that damned finger deeper-- 
 
"Shit, Pendrell!"  Mulder looked over his shoulder.  "Don't you ever 
trim your fucking nails?  That hurt!" 
 
Pendrell's puppy dog eyes were contrite.  "I'm s-s-sorry, Agent M-
Mulder, let me kiss it and make it better."   Pendrell vanished and a 
warm, wet tongue slid in between his buttocks. 
 
Oh, god, he was being rimmed by Super-Dweeb.   
 
This was too much--and the worst part was that Sparky was 
responding like nobody's business.  Nope, he was no way going to tell 
Scully this one, it was too embarrassing--oh, shit, oh, shit, Pendrell 
was actually doing well, that warm mouth moving farther forward to 
slurp on his balls.   
 
Okay, so what if the kid drooled a little, it actually felt good....he 
groaned a little, pushing himself as far as he could from the table, 
letting Pendrell come up between him and the table, taking Sparky 
into his mouth.  Oh, god, oh, god, that felt good--- 
 
"Pendrell," he gasped, "Watch the teeth, please, oh, god, Pendrell, 
oh, god...."  He was really going to hate himself in the morning, hell, 
he hated himself now, whimpering as Pendrell valiantly tried to take 
Sparky all the way in, then withdrew, making him shiver.  Oh, shit, 
the teeth, no, that was better, the kid was learning, the kid was doing 
all right....oh, back down to the balls, taking them in his mouth-- 
 
"Teeth, Pendrell!"  Oh, god, that hurt, no, that was much better, oh, 
god, the kid was a natural, maybe he just needed training, Scully 
said he was good, maybe there was hope from this yet....."Oh, god, 
Pendrell, that's good, oh, that's good, keep that--oh, god, Pendrell--"   
 
Back to the asshole, god--"Ouch, Pendrell, watch the hair, okay."  
His voice was strained.  Oh, okay, that was better, oooh, he was 
licking up the crease to the base of Mulder's spine--that finger 
probed again, he'd evidently bitten the nail off, it was okay, oh, shit, it 
was more than okay, there went another one, oh, shit, the kid was 
drooling on his back again, panting.  He was panting.  Oh, god, 
panting.  Like a damned dog.... 
 
Scrunching his eyes shut, Mulder resolutely avoided thinking of his 
dog, the long lamented Rags, and tried to focus only on the positive 
sensations.  "Watch it, Pendrell," he whimpered.  "More lube, please, 
lots more lube."  That latex covered *thing* pressing against his leg 
felt enormous.   
 
Hell, Pendrell's fingers felt enormous.  He was going to have to get 
one of those rubber donuts to sit on for the rest of his life..... 
 
That large something pushed hard against his asshole and he yelped.  
"Slowly, Pendrell, slowly, god, I'd rather not have to wear diapers the 
rest of my life, okay!" 
 
Pendrell was breathing too heavily to reply.  No, he was panting too 
hard to reply.  "Oh, Agent Mulder, I'm going to make love to you." 
 
"You're going to fuck me," Mulder corrected irritably, then gasped as 
a lot of that large something sank into him.  "Slowly, Pendrell, adagio-
-"  Wait, did that mean fast or slow,?--he always got confused.  
"Slowly." 
 
Reaching around, Pendrell grasped him firmly, finally at a proper 
angle.   Okay, this wasn't too bad, in fact, this was starting to work.   
Groaning, he pushed into Pendrell's fist, only to have Pendrell slam 
forward, making him yelp again.  "No, no, dammit, Pendrell, don't 
you have any sense of rhythm at all?" 
 
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder," Pendrell told him penitently, in between 
pants, "What do you want me to do?" 
 
He considered, resting his forehead on the table again.  "Okay, when 
I push back, you push forward--and when I push my hips forward, 
you pull back.  Got that?" 
 
"I think so."  Pendrell licked him again.  "Oh, I love you, Agent 
Mulder." 
 
"No you don't, you just love my ass."  Mulder pushed back, Pendrell 
arched forward--so far, so good, oooh, so good.  He moved his hips 
forward, pushing into Pendrell's fist and Pendrell came with him.  
"No, no, dammit, pull back." 
 
"I don't wanna," Pendrell whimpered, "It feels too good." 
 
Groaning, Mulder laid his forehead on the table again.  "Pendrell, you 
have to, you can't just stand there with your cock up my ass, you 
have to move it."   
 
He couldn't believe this was happening, he had to teach the kid to 
sodomize him.  Reality was seriously skewed these days.... 
 
"Okay," he sighed, "Let's try it again.  On one, you push your cock 
in, I push my ass back--on two, you pull your cock out, I push my 
hips forward, okay?  And don't let go of my cock, for god's sake, or 
I'll kill you when you take these cuffs off." 
 
"Okay," Pendrell whimpered and drooled more on his back.   
 
God, he hoped he still had that sweatshirt in his bottom desk drawer.  
The bottom edge of his sweater was getting soggy and he hated wet 
wool.   Taking a deep breath, he pushed his ass back.  "One."   
 
Pendrell arched forward satisfactorily, pushing hard against his 
prostate.  Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.  "Two," he managed to say and 
pushed his cock back into Pendrell's fist--good, the poor dumb kid 
kept it nice and snug, oh, god, nice and nice and nice and snug.... 
 
"One," he repeated breathlessly and pushed back as Pendrell surged 
forward.  "Two," he breathed and arched forward, oh, god, oh, god, 
maybe the kid was getting the hang of it, oh,yeah, he was getting the 
hang of it--no, goddammit, he was pushing forward again, and again, 
and again and again..... 
 
"Pendrell!" 
 
"Oops."  Pendrell's voice was very, very small and chagrined. 
 
Mulder felt his blood pressure rise.  "Oops?" he repeated, his left 
eyelid twitching--great, now he was developing a nervous tic....  
"Oops?  What the fuck does OOPS mean!?" 
 
Pendrell stood very still.  "Oops, I, um, came." 
 
After a hushed moment, Mulder banged his forehead on the table.  
"Goddammit, it's bad enough you handcuff me and practically force 
me to teach you how to rape me, now you leave me hanging on the 
edge?  Goddammit, Pendrell, you better get these cuffs off me, or 
I'm gonna....I'm gonna--"  What could he threaten him with?  "I'm 
gonna tell Scully what you did to me." 
 
With a squeak of fright, Pendrell pulled out of him.  "I'm sorry, Agent 
Mulder, I just--you're just so beautiful and tight, I just lost control." 
 
Mulder considered banging his forehead on the table again.  "Okay, 
you little--get these cuffs off me and get down on your knees, 
goddammit, I can't go out there like this." 
 
Sparky seemed to positively thrive on conflict.  He throbbed in time 
to the dangerous tempo of Mulder's pulse, bobbing merrily.   
 
Stammering apologies, Pendrell obeyed, unlocking the cuffs and 
running back around the table to fall worshipfully at Mulder's feet.  
Mulder sank down into the office chair, regretting it the moment he 
did; the seat was vinyl and his ass was wet from Pendrell's drool. 
 
"No teeth, Pendrell," he warned, putting his hand on his gun.  "Or I'll 
shoot you myself." 
 
"No teeth," Pendrell agreed, eyes shining.  "Agent Mulder, do you 
want to spank me?" 
 
It was tempting, god knew, but he shook his head.   
 
"Just suck me," he snapped and closed his eyes as Pendrell went to 
work with a will.  "Oh, yeah, that's it, that's the way--"  Maybe he'd 
been too hard on the kid, god, his mouth was so wet and hot and he 
was getting better, ooh, he was playing with Mulder's balls just the 
way Mulder had told him, slurping Mulder's cock as it went in and out 
of his mouth, oh, god, he was going to come after all, oh, yes, he 
was definitely going to come, right in Pendrell's talented little mouth--
-groaning loudly, he pumped hard, feeling the cum rise, pumping 
harder and harder as his groan rose in volume--oh, god, 
ogodogodogodogod, filling Pendrell's mouth..... 
 
Actually, more than filling Pendrell's mouth, cum actually squirted out 
his nose and he made a choking sound--dismayed, Mulder yanked 
himself back, thankful that Sparky was doing nothing more than 
dribbling at this point, heard a faint "Oh, my God," from the doorway 
and turned in time to see the shocked face of the cleaning woman 
before she fled down the hall. 
 
Pendrell choked and sputtered; alarmed, Mulder pounded him on the 
back until Pendrell held up his hands in surrender.  "'M okay," he 
gasped and gave Mulder another worshipful look.  "Honest." 
 
Shame, chagrin, frustration and sheer embarrassment made Mulder 
grit his teeth.  "Pendrell, I have to be honest with you.  I really do like 
you, but that was the worst sex I've ever had.  Even alone." 
 
Pendrell blushed.  "I just need practice, sir." 
 
An evil thought passed through Mulder's mind, seeking a place to 
roost.  "Practice with Agent Scully," he suggested.  "When you get 
really good at that, we'll talk again." 
 
Pendrell leapt up and kissed him, all wet puppy tongue.  Well, it could 
be worse, the cleaning woman could have been turned on by the 
sight and come in to join them.   
 
After tolerating Pendrell's attentions for a moment, Mulder pushed 
him away and patted him on the shoulder.  "I've got to get out to 
Verlaine's labs, Pendrell," he told him and painfully peeled himself off 
the vinyl chair--eeeew, that hurt and it felt icky.  Reaching down, he 
pulled his shorts and jeans up again.  "And Pendrell, stay away from 
handcuffs.  They aren't any fun." 
 
One corner of Pendrell's mouth curved slyly.  "I don't know, Agent 
Mulder, I had a lot of fun." 
 
Unable to think of a really killing reply to this--who are you going to 
please with that, Agent Pendrell?  Oh, myself, Agent Mulder--Mulder 
closed his mouth and fled before Pendrell tried to take his gun from 
him and do him again.... 
 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 12/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
The Georgetown Microbiology lab was devastated.  People lay about 
in various states of unconsciousness, naked as the day they were 
born and some of them still joined, hips moving sluggishly as they 
sought to reach fulfillment once more.   
 
Scully ducked back around a corner.  Sheesh, this stuff was more 
dangerous than she'd ever have guessed.  Maybe growing up 
Catholic somehow retarded the influence.  Peering around, Scully 
dismissed the idea of trying to help--no, none of the researchers was 
at all attractive by her standards, but then she was spoilt by Mulder, 
Skinner, and Chesterton--and carefully retraced her steps back out 
to the parking lot, starting at every shadow and sound. 
 
When she reached her car, she locked the door, just as a shadow 
arose from the back seat. 
 
"Agent Scully, now do you understand how dangerous this formula 
is?"  X's eyes were a little wild, his voice strained. 
 
"I'm starting to," she told him sincerely. 
 
"You and Agent Mulder have to get out to Verlaine and get Veblein's 
documentation," X insisted, climbing into the front seat. 
 
He really was a stunningly attractive man, Scully thought, her 
expression pensive.  "All right," she agreed, "I have to admit, you're 
right."  Then, without taking time for a breath--let alone what she 
really wanted to do, she drew her gun.  "Why did you try to kill my 
partner?" 
 
X looked at her, a little dismayed.  "Agent Scully, if I'd tried to kill 
him, he'd be dead."  He looked away, his expression sheepish.  "I, ah, 
lost my temper.  Agent Scully, Mulder is a slut." 
 
"Yeah, but he's my slut, you can't just go shooting at him like that."  
Scully narrowed her eyes briefly.  "You're just mad cuz he jumped 
your ass." 
 
X's lower lip came out.  "Well, yeah, I was.  You know how long I've 
been keeping an eye on that fine little butt of his?  I wanted to top 
him, and he took me by surprise." 
 
Oooh, the image of that was as hot as watching Chesterton fuck 
Mulder.  "You stick with me, pal," she told him, a hard boiled moll, 
"And you'll get your wish." 
 
He stared at her for a long time, his breathing slowly becoming 
uneven.  "Agent Scully, has anyone ever told you that your hair 
shines like amber in sunset?" 
 
A little startled, she eyed him.  Well, it was a nice sentiment.  
Leaning forward, she took hold of his tie and pulled him forward.  "Not 
recently," she breathed. 
 
He was breathing more heavily.  "And your eyes are the most 
amazing shade of aquamarine, Agent Scully, like looking into the 
depths of the mysterious Bermuda Triangle." 
 
There was only one triangle she was interested in having him admire, 
right now and it wasn't in Bermuda.  Thankful she had stocked the 
glove compartment with supplies, Scully ran her fingers down the 
front of his shirt to his trousers.  "Go on."   
 
Yep, Mulder was right, whatever was hiding back there was certainly 
of generous heft and length.  Oooh, very nice indeed.  Although 
Mulder's ridiculous worry about his penis size was starting to annoy 
her.... 
 
His fingers were fumbling her blouse open; nope, no fumbling, she 
was wrong about that, he managed the front clasp on her bra without 
any trouble at all.  And she'd left her panties at Mulder's, this was 
going to be very, very smooth.   
 
"Your skin is like alabaster, threaded through with veins of lapis 
lazuli," he muttered, leaning down to lick the skin between her 
breasts. 
 
Hmmm, she thought, this had certain attractions that Mulder's mute 
admiration lacked.  "Go on," she whispered and managed to undo his 
belt. 
 
"Nipples like ripe--cherries," he gulped and took one into his mouth, 
sucking and nipping with a great deal more skill than she'd imagined; 
he must not spend *all* his time lurking outside Mulder's apartment.  
Raising his head, he leaned up to take her mouth.  "Lips as tender as 
rose petals," he breathed and covered her rose petals with his mouth.   
 
Oh, my, God, the man could kiss like a god--squirming, she kicked 
off her shoes and shifted her legs, fumbling a little with his zipper.  
Oh, God, he wasn't wearing any underwear.  Maybe he'd left his at 
Mulder's, too.   
 
Her hand closed over silky, spongy flesh, her thumb brushed the 
swollen head, feeling the trace of fluid there.  Oh, yes, oh, 
yes....Squirming again, she got him between her legs while reaching 
for the glove compartment.  It popped open helpfully; she snatched a 
small square packet out and tried to rip it open without luck.   
 
He raised his head again.  "Sweet, pale, shell-like ears," he 
murmured and nibbled on one lobe, making her whimper.   
 
Craning her neck over his shoulder, she put a corner of the packet 
between her teeth and pulled--thank God, thank God.... 
 
X moved down to kiss her breasts again, moved down farther to kiss 
her belly.  "Silken skin," he breathed, "yet full of fire." 
 
Tilting her head back, she moaned as his tongue circled under her 
breasts, found her navel and likewise anointed it; one big hand moved 
between her legs, delicately opening her and slipping inside.  Oh, 
God, she was sooo wet, and it felt sooo good. 
 
"The body of a goddess, come down to earth," he murmured and 
pushed her skirt up past her hips, bending to lift her to his mouth.  
Oh, God, that beard felt so strange, so sexy, so hot against her 
tender tissues..... 
 
She nearly screamed as his lips closed around her clitoris, the gentle 
suction driving her wild.  "Oh, God, oh, God."  She wrapped her legs 
around his neck and he rubbed his mouth on her swollen flesh, 
lapping at her, sucking at her until she came, convulsing as he thrust 
his tongue in and out of her.... 
 
"The nectar of the gods," he breathed, lifting his face, all wet with her 
juices.  He kissed the insides of her thighs,  "The taste of paradise." 
 
Okay, okay, all this was nice, but one thing you could say about 
Mulder--he might be mute, but he knew when to shut up and get 
down to business.  Sitting up, she yanked X forward by his tie.  "Shut 
up and fuck me, you big handsome spy."  With an expertise born of 
recent practice, she rolled the condom over that big, beautiful 
torpedo and lay back, pulling him into her with one swift lift of her 
hips.  Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, he filled her right up and bumped 
all the right places.  
  
Making a little sound in her throat, she wrapped her arms around his 
neck and sucked on his tongue.  Poet or not, X fell to with a will, 
sliding his hands between her ass and the seat....oooh, he was 
angling just right, bumping against her clitoris gently with each thrust, 
his head dipping to taste her nipples without prejudice....oh, God, he 
was so big, no wonder Mulder had been afraid to get fucked by him, 
but the mental pictures of *that* extreme possibility brought her 
closer to the edge, just as his deep,steady strokes did....clawing at 
his shoulders, she brought herself up to his nipples, taking one in her 
mouth and nipping gently with her teeth.  He groaned and tipped his 
head back, rotating his hips as he sank in to the root again. 
 
Oh, God, Mulder was going to kill her, here she was, having promised 
to find something out from the lab, and instead she was fucking his 
informant.  And it was goooooood! 
 
Squirming, she slid her arms down so she could cup his ass--ooh, 
firm and high and well muscled.  Lord, she hated a man with a flat 
ass, but she was horribly spoiled by Mulder and Skinner and 
Chesterton and now, of course, X.   
 
Squirming harder, she managed to reach beneath to stroke his balls 
lightly with her fingertips, making him groan again.  Feeling wicked, 
she slid a hand down between them, wetting her fingers with her own 
juices, then slid those wet fingers into his ass, making him growl in 
his throat and thrust that much harder, and harder and harder--oh, 
God, she was coming again, tightening around that gorgeous piece 
of meat in her cunt, tightening until she thought she'd die, screaming 
out her pleasure in the way that made poor Mulder cringe, at least in 
the office..... 
 
X only hammered her harder, pistoning in and out of her like, God, 
like a god.....driving her from one orgasm to another to 
another.....until he stiffened and buried his face in her hair, gasping 
and gasping for air..... 
 
After a long, long time, he stirred.  "You and Mulder have to get out 
to Verlaine." 
 
"Only if you come with us," she told him huskily and nibbled on his 
upper lip.   
 
He groaned again and pulled out of her slowly, peeling the condom 
off with some distaste.   "Agent Scully, has it occurred to you just 
how much energy Agent Mulder is burning each time he climaxes?" 
 
She blinked at him.  This was an awfully clinical turn for a man who 
had said her nipples were like ripe cherries.  "Um, no, actually, it 
hasn't." 
 
He sighed, sounding weary.  "At least 15 % of a man's energy goes 
toward maintaining his, shall we say, reproductive system.  All the 
time.  Every day.  Consider that the average man has sex to orgasm 
approximately three times a week.  Now how often has Agent Mulder 
had sex to orgasm in the last two days?" 
 
Her eyes widened as the facts penetrated her preoccupation with X's 
genitals.  "Oh my God, that's why his clothes are looking looser.  
That's why he's so tired!" 
 
He rolled his eyes, his expression visible in the street light.  "You're 
killing him, Agent Scully.  Women have a good deal more 
endurance." 
 
Pushing herself up, she fumbled in her purse for her cell phone, 
punching in Mulder's number.  It rang and rang and rang and rang 
and rang.  Sincerely alarmed, she disconnected and dialed the lab.  
Pendrell answered.  "Pendrell, have you seen Agent Mulder?" 
 
"Oh, yes," Pendrell told her breathlessly, "I have.  I did. It was 
wonderful." 
 
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "Pendrell, did you fuck Agent 
Mulder." 
 
He was silent a moment.  "I, um, made love to him."  His voice was a 
little timid, all euphoria gone. 
 
She closed her eyes, groaning.  Oh, God, the very worst thing for her 
partner. 
 
"Agent Scully, are you mad at me?"  Pendrell sounded remorseful.  "I 
didn't really mean to, it's just that Agent Mulder is sooo cute.  And he 
smelled so good.  And I was thinking about you." 
 
"Shut up, Pendrell," she told him and regretted it immediately.  "No, 
don't shut up.  Did, ah, Agent Mulder, ah, have an orgasm?" 
 
Pendrell sniffled.  "Um, yeah, he did, but I don't think he was very 
happy with me, I didn't mean to come so fast, Agent Scully, it just 
happened, he was so tight and hot and it felt soooo good." 
 
"Pendrell."  Scully's tone was dangerous.  "Where is he now?" 
 
"He said he had to go out to Verlaine's labs, Agent Scully.  Are you 
mad at me?  Would you like to spank me, Agent Scully?  I can wait 
right here for you."  His voice was hopeful. 
 
She hung up.  "Mulder's on his way out there alone."  Turning around, 
she slipped her feet back into her shoes and turned the key in the 
ignition.  "Belt in, X, we're going for a ride." 
 
He groaned as he sat back.  "I think I pulled a muscle in my groin." 
 
"Shut up, X," she told him and pulled out of the parking lot with a 
squeal of rubber..... 
 
 
There was a light in Veblein's office.  Smiling maniacally, Mulder 
crept down the hall, making sure that no one else was in....when he 
reached Veblein's office, he leapt throught the door, sweeping the 
room--Veblein stared at him in shock, cigarette dropping from one 
shaking hand. 
 
Wouldn't you know it, Veblein was a smoking man.  Still with the 
maniac grin, Mulder edged forward.  "You bastard, I know there's got 
to be a cure, and I want it." 
 
Veblein pointed a shaking hand at him.  "Y-you're supposed to be 
dead!" 
 
"Didn't quite work out that way, did it, Mr. Biochemistry?" Mulder 
sneered.  "My partner is a doctor!" 
 
Vebelin sank into his chair, a frown replacing the stunned expression.  
"Damn, I'd forgotten that."  The frown deepened.  "Have you been 
eating good solid meals?" 
 
"Aside from missing lunch, yeah."  Mulder smirked.  "And she made 
me eat a huge breakfast.  Eggs, muffins, jelly, juice, the whole 
shebang." 
 
"That must be why you're still alive."  Veblein rubbed his chin.  "Did 
you use the cologne samples I gave you?" 
 
"Are you frigging crazy?"  Mulder edged closer.  "I figured it out when 
we got back to the office that same day." 
 
"That's it, of course.  Good nutrition, a partner who is a doctor, and 
no repeated exposure."  Veblein appeared to be sulking for a 
moment.  "Damn, I should have given you the stronger concentrate, 
but I was afraid it would be much too obvious, then." 
 
Mulder arched both eyebrows in disbelief.  "And having us fuck 
ourselves to death on the same case isn't?  Now quit stalling Veblein, 
I'm armed and I'm not in a good mood.  I just had the worst sex of 
my life, I'm cranky and tired, and if you don't give me the cure, I'm 
going to start by shooting off your toes and work myself up to your 
nose." 
 
Veblein gave him another wolfish smile.  "I hope that's a small caliber 
gun, then, Agent Mulder, or I'll bleed to death long before you get 
there." 
 
Mulder forgot caution and advanced on him, aiming between his 
eyes.  "On the other hand, I could get used to this, Scully's keeping 
me alive quite well, and I don't like you." 
 
"Wait, wait," Veblein looked alarmed.  "Let's not be hasty, Agent 
Mulder.  Perhaps we can negotiate a deal." 
 
Narrowing his eyes, Mulder regarded him suspiciously.  "What kind 
of deal?  You're reponsible for at least four deaths." 
 
Veblein smiled silkily.  "Five, actually, Mrs. Thurmond's heart gave out 
trying to fuck all the male orderlies last night.  But, strictly speaking, 
I'm not responsible for that, it was the result of their own actions, 
trying to heighten their sexual attractiveness."  He made a little moue 
of distaste.  "Still, I'm a scientist, the results of that were--intriguing.  
My original intent was to bring a little happiness to the world and 
make a fortune doing so.  But the government has shown a certain 
interest in this little formula.  It could give a whole new meaning to the 
phrase, make love, not war." 
 
"Bastard," Mulder hissed.  "Give me the fucking cure." 
 
"Oh, I will, Agent Mulder.  But I'm a lonely man, and you, quite 
frankly, are a lovely one."  Veblein smirked. 
 
Mulder blanched.  "Are you suggesting what I think you're 
suggesting?" 
 
"Why, certainly.  You put out my fire, and I'll put out, heh, heh, 
yours." 
 
Eew.  Well, not as bad as Cancerman, but almost.   
 
Still, if there was a chance for a cure....still hesitant, Mulder eyed the 
scientist, swallowed hard.  "Tonight.  I want the cure tonight." 
 
"Of course, Agent Mulder."  Veblein's teeth showed again.   
 
Well, in certain lights he wasn't quite that bad....maybe he could go 
through with it.  God knew, his ass couldn't get any more sore than it 
already was, and he could really make hay with Scully on the 
strength of this sacrifice.   
 
It might make her forget that he'd dragged her out here in the first 
place and the whole damned thing was his fault.   
 
"Well, all right," he growled.  "But I insist on plenty of lube, dammit." 
 
Veblein's grin grew toothier.  "Ah, a little on the tender side are we?  
Agent Mulder, I never suspected it, but I'm very glad.  That sweet 
little posterior shouldn't be wasted only on women." 
 
Yuk.  Eew.  "And no kissing," Mulder warned.  "Your tongue comes 
anywhere near my mouth and I'll shoot you." 
 
Veblein's smile dimmed.  "Ah, well, if that's the way it must be.  But 
I've had fantasies about the lovely lower lip of yours." 
 
Everyone did.  Sulkily, Mulder put his gun back in the holster and 
began to undress. 
 
 
Officer Bobby Tidwell saw the Taurus on the side of the highway and 
groaned.  One thing worse than peckerheads getting drunk in the 
woods was teenagers screwing in the car.   
 
Goddamn, what was the world coming to?  In his day, a fella was 
lucky to get to second base by the time he was engaged, and now he 
had to keep pullin' buck nekkid kids out the back seats of momma 
and daddy's car, condoms handed out in schools, the world was 
going to hell in a handbasket, that was all there was to it.... 
 
Pulling up behind the car, he was freshly annoyed that they seemed 
to pay absolutely no attention to the bubble lights; by this time, he 
was usually seein' clothes a flyin' this way and that.  Not this pair, 
they just kept a rockin' that car--the windows were probably too 
steamed up to see anything. 
 
Rapping on the window with the butt of his flashlight, he set his face 
in the most threatening expression he knew, rapped again, with 
increasing annoyance, as he was ignored. 
 
The front driver's side window finally rolled down and a red-headed 
woman poked her head out, looking as annoyed as he felt. 
 
"Outa the car, kids," he growled. 
 
"Huh."  She flapped a little bitty wallet at him.  Shining the light on it, 
he swallowed hard and looked back at her.   
 
Oh jumpin' Jesus Christ, the badge was FBI, her blouse was open 
and her titties were hanging out bare for anyone to see--he jerked his 
eyes back to the wallet, then back to her expression, one of serious 
PMS, just like Mary Lou on a bad day.  "As you were, officer." 
 
He swallowed hard again.  "Ma'am, parking is prohibited along the 
highway here." 
 
"I'm not parking, I'm conducting an interrogation."  She rolled the 
window back up. 
 
Feeling foolish, he stood there with a boner in his uniform pants for a 
long moment before trudging back to the patrol car.  After another 
long moment, he started the car and pulled out again.  Funniest 
damn interrogation he ever saw, but he was damned if he was gonna 
get mixed up in Federal business. 
 
But Goddamn, she had the sweetest little pair he'd seen in a long 
time..... 
 
 
"Agent Scully," X moaned, "We have *got* to get to Verlaine." 
 
Releasing the tight vaginal clench she had him in, Scully sighed.  
"You're right, you're right.  I hope Mulder appreciates this."  Turning 
back to the wheel again, she didn't bother with shoes this time, just 
put the car in gear and took off in a spray of gravel. 
 
 
Gasping, Mulder lay back on the desk, every muscle in his body 
aching.  For a troll, Veblein was surprisingly energetic when it came 
to sex.   
 
And voracious.  He'd come twice to Veblein's once and was 
beginning to wish he'd taken time to eat another plate of chicken 
before leaving home.  Oh, noooo, he had to rush off because he was 
afraid to be alone with Chester.   
 
At least Chester kissed him and brought him iced tea and worried 
about him.  This...this barracuda with him now was probably 
watching gleefully, waiting for him to expire.  Well, better men than 
Veblein had tried to kill him and failed....."I'm in the wet spot." 
 
Veblein, still a little short of breath, sank back in his chair and lit a 
cigarette with shaking hands.  "Of course you are, darling," he 
breathed and tipped his head back, chest heaving.  "Oh, my, you are 
the sweetest, hottest thing.  Agent Mulder, are you sure you want the 
cure?" 
 
"Positive."  Putting an arm over his eyes, Mulder gulped in air, filling 
his lungs.  He was never going to be able to sit down again.  Never.   
 
Never......he must have dozed then, the next thing he knew was that 
Veblein was sucking greedily on Sparky.  "Hey, wait a minute, I put 
out." 
 
Veblein raised his head, looking eerily like Igor in Young 
Frankenstein.  Mulder shuddered.  "I said you'd have to put out my 
fire," Veblein told him huskily.  "And it's not out, yet." 
 
Throwing his head back down, Mulder gritted his teeth.  "All right, 
dammit, but remember what I said about kissing." 
 
"How could I forget, darling?"  Veblein sucked him in again, and 
goddamn fucking Sparky responded.  He was going to use a rusty 
razor blade and castrate himself before this was over, he just knew 
it..... 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 13/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Bouncing on X's cock, Scully screamed out another long, long, long 
orgasm, lightly scratching X's chest in her enthusiasm.  The windows 
were completely steamed, no way to see if another patrol car was 
sneaking up on them.  Her blouse was completely untucked, her skirt 
was riding above her hips and she was still sooooo incredibly horny. 
 
"Agent Scully."  X's voice was faint.  "Can we please go save Agent 
Mulder now?" 
 
Mulder?  She leaned back, frowning faintly.  Mulder? 
 
Oooh, Mulder, her partner.  Oooh, yeah, her partner.  That incredibly 
cute, lanky, long legged partner of hers.  With the luscious mouth 
and the sweet cock and the tight butt.  And the nipples, oh, yeah, the 
nipples. 
 
"Yeah,"  She grinned.  "I forgot."  Wriggling off him, she shoved his 
legs over and slid behind the driver's side again, putting the car in 
gear.  Gee, she was starting to get low on gas, maybe they should 
stop on the way..... 
 
 
"I'm in another wet spot," Mulder whined, so tired he was seeing 
double, the cold surface of the desk making him break out in 
gooseflesh.   
 
Two of Veblein was no treat.  And his ass hurt, one giant throbbing 
nerve that seemed to have spread to his cock.  The last time he 
came, he was afraid he was going to shoot blood.  Sparky's head was 
raw--what Veblein needed was a lesson in giving head from X. Or 
Skinner.  Or Scully.  Or Chester.  Or, fuck, even 
Pendrell....."Where's the fucking cure, Veblein." 
 
The pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray was alarmingly high.  Mulder 
had to admit, it was pretty amazing, a man Veblein's age could still 
come that many times and still get it up again and again.  He hated 
him.   
 
He was beginning to hate sex.  He was going to resign from the FBI 
and join a Buddhist monastery.  Even if he had to become Buddhist 
to do it.  Believing in a god of any kind was preferable to having 
another orgasm..... 
 
Veblein got out of the chair, wheezing.  "Agent Mulder, I must 
commend you for your endurance," he mumbled and bent over 
Mulder's body again. 
 
"All I want is the fucking cure!"  Mulder cried hopelessly.  Oh, no, not 
again..... 
 
 
The gas station attendant was cute, Scully thought, especially being 
plowed from behind while he plunged in and out of her wetness.  The 
front seat was a little cramped, so they'd moved to the back.....and 
she'd gotten a discount on the gas, even gotten the tires checked 
while X slumped against the passenger side window. 
 
"Agent Scully, if I ever regain my strength, I'm going to have to kill 
your partner." 
 
"Now, now," she chided and slipped back behind the driver's seat, 
leaning out to give the cute kid a kiss on the cheek.  "You be good 
now," she told him and started the car. 
 
"No, I mean it."  X pushed himself upright.  "This is his fault, I'm 
going to have to shoot him." 
 
"The only weapon you better point at Mulder is the one you're 
packing in your pants," she warned.  "I don't want to have to hurt 
you, X, it's a shame to waste those talents--have you ever thought of 
taking up another line of work?" 
 
He groaned.  "Just drive, Agent Scully." 
 
Sighing, she did. 
 
 
"I'm still in the wet spot," Mulder moaned.   
 
Veblein lit another goddamned cigarette.  The room was hazy with 
smoke, thick enough to be a pea-soup London fog.   
 
"I know, darling," Veblein wheezed and took a drag on his cigarette.  
"Come here, baby, I want your mouth on my cock." 
 
Enough was enough.   
 
Rolling off the desk, Mulder advanced on him.  "Listen you little troll, 
you've fucked me five times, five times is enough for any man, let 
alone a troll, now give me the fucking cure or I'll twist your pointed 
little head off your neck!"  He reached for Veblein's neck, but the little 
man raised a hand, still smiling that wolfish smile. 
 
He waited, teeth grinding.  He didn't care anymore, nothing was 
going to feel as good as choking the life out of Veblein. 
 
"Too late," Veblein coughed.  "M-my heart, darling, you've made me 
a very happy man, I'm going to meet my maker with a smile on my 
face." 
 
"No!"  Mulder grabbed the scrawny shoulders and shook him.  
"Goddammit, don't you dare!!!  Where's the fucking cure!!" 
 
Veblein's lips were turning blue, but he smiled beatifically at Mulder.  
"No cure," he wheezed, "Only immunity...."  The last of his breath 
came out with a rattling sound and the cigarette fell from nerveless 
fingers. 
 
"Oh, shit!"  Mulder stomped both feet childishly.  "You motherfucker, 
you did, you went and died on me!  And what the fuck does that 
mean, immunity!?" 
 
The door burst open and X staggered in, doing the most wobbly 
impression of an armed sweep that Mulder had ever seen.   
 
"You're too late," he told X crossly.  "He's dead." 
 
Scully came behind him, fixing her lipstick.  Looking up, she snapped 
the compact closed and smiled.  "Hi, Mulder, we're here to save you." 
 
"Too late!"  He kicked the desk, swore savagely, and hopped on one 
foot, holding the injured one.   "He's dead, Scully.  He fucked himself 
to death." 
 
Scully looked at the desk, wrinkling her nose at the sight of it.  
"Mulder, you let him fuck you?" 
 
"I wanted the cure," he said piteously and rubbed the bruised toes.  
"He said he'd give it to me." 
 
There was a peculiar gleam in X's eyes.  "I'd say he gave it to you, all 
right," he commented, eyeing Mulder's ass.  "Mulder, you're--wet." 
 
Suddenly reminded, Mulder looked around and snatched up Veblein's 
shirt, tying it around his waist by the sleeves. 
 
Scully tapped her foot, her expression thoughtful.  "Well, he's lubed 
up, already," she told the room at large.  "And you did say you 
wanted to shoot him." 
 
Mulder's eyes widened as X advanced on him.   
 
"And she said I could," X told him, smiling as toothily as Veblein at 
his worst. 
 
"Oooh, no!"  Mulder tried to bolt, found himself caught and held 
tightly.  "Not in the wet spot!  Anywhere but there!" 
 
X paused.  "He's got a point, Agent Scully." 
 
Scully pursed her lips thoughtfully.  "There's a couch in the reception 
area.  Or we could take him out to the car." 
 
"Better stop and get him something to eat, first."  X was stroking his 
hair; it was the creepiest sensation of the night. 
 
Whimpering, Mulder resigned himself to his fate.  "I want a big Mac, 
french fries and a chocolate shake." 
 
X chuckled softly.  "I can guarantee the chocolate shake, Agent 
Mulder." 
 
Scully laughed merrily all the way to the car..... 
 
 
"Fuck him,"  Scully exhorted X, urging him on with the palm of her 
hand applied smartly to his buttocks. 
 
"I *am* fucking him," X growled, sounding irritable. 
 
Though what X had to be irritable about, Mulder couldn't begin to 
imagine.   
 
After all, *he* was the one lying on his stomach in the back seat of a 
Ford Taurus, getting reamed....again.  The only good thing about it 
was that he was starting to get numb.  Maybe lube had anesthetic 
qualities--or he was just so damned tired he couldn't feel anything 
anymore....ow, ow, no, he could still feel X slamming in deep, oh, 
god, X grabbed Sparky, no, no, he didn't *want* to feel anything, but 
X was fucking ruthless.  Ruthless at fucking.  Oh, shit, he was going 
to come again and he really didn't think it was a good idea. 
 
He pushed his face into the upholstered seat--at least it wasn't vinyl, 
the upholstery muffled his screams better.....oh, god, he was coming 
again, where the hell was *it* coming from, anyway, he ought to be 
limp as a Chinese noodle by now.... 
 
X shuddered above him, leaned down and bit the back of his neck 
gently.  The sun was shining through the trees that surrounded them 
on this backwoods dirt road that Scully had found.  Found while X 
was busy molesting him in the back seat.  Once parked, she'd hung 
over the seat, offering suggestions until that round was finished. 
 
He wanted to kill her.  He wanted to kill X.  And if they didn't let him 
get some sleep, he was going to strangle them both with his bare 
hands and Scully's garter belt.... 
 
X sighed, pulled out, and got out of the car, flinging the condom away 
with a certain flair.  "Take him home, Agent Scully." 
 
Bright-eyed, she studied X as he straightened his clothing.  "What 
about you?" 
 
X took in a deep lungful of morning air.  "I believe I'll walk."  Lifting his 
foot, he kicked the back door shut just as Mulder swung his legs back 
in. 
 
Scully sighed regretfully.  "Well, it is getting pretty late.  Wouldn't 
want to scare any hikers." 
 
Mulder shuddered at the possibilities that suggested themselves with 
*that* remark.  Her mind was--depraved was a term he'd never 
thought of in connection with Scully before tonight.  This morning.  
Whatever.  But it certainly fit.   
 
Messalina had nothing on Scully.  Caligula was an amateur compared 
to Scully.   The Marquis de Sade would sign up to take lessons from 
Scully.   
 
It made him wonder what went on in parochial schools.   
 
"Can we go home now?" he asked faintly.  "I'm really tired, Scully." 
 
She gave him an annoyed look.  "Mulder, you're getting stodgy in 
your old age." 
 
He considered that.  "Scully, stodgy doesn't even begin to describe 
my day."  Or night, for that matter.  Reaching for his jeans, he began 
the painful process of putting them back on.  It hurt to tuck Sparky 
inside, his cock was *that* tender.   
 
Flouncing, Scully turned around in the driver's seat and started the 
car.  "Aren't you going to get in the front seat, Mulder?" she asked, 
pulling off the shoulder.   
 
He managed to get his socks on.  "I'm safer back here," he 
whimpered--god, his jeans were hurting places he hadn't known he 
had.....and bloody hell, Chesterton was still there..... 
 
 
It was nine am before they reached his apartment.  There was a god 
after all; Chesterton was gone. 
 
Sitting huddled in the corner of his couch, Mulder regarded his 
partner resentfully.   
 
She'd given permission to X to fuck him, hell, she'd not only 
encouraged it, she'd fucking choreographed it.  "Don't even look at 
me, Scully," he warned. 
 
Scully leaned back against her own corner, smirking at him.  "Spoil 
sport.  We'll have to get the car professionally cleaned before we turn 
it back in." 
 
He shuddered.  "It's notoriously hard to get those particular body 
fluids out of car upholstery, Scully.  And what the cleaning crew is 
going to think....." 
 
"Better than vinyl," she told him absently, eyeing his crotch. 
 
He shuddered again and crossed his legs, then uncrossed them--
bad, bad idea, it fucking hurt...."I know.  Believe me, I know." 
 
That got him a bright-eyed curious look.  A bright-eyed, curious and 
very frightening look.  "How?" 
 
"Never mind."  He brooded again.  He was going to be able to pack 
his shaving kit up his ass, setting off airport security metal detectors 
everywhere he went. 
 
Scully twirled a lock of hair around one finger.  "Okay, what did 
Veblein say about the cure?" 
 
He brooded for a moment, shifting to take his weight off the tender 
places.   
 
Not that there were many spots on his body that weren't tender.  
Well, maybe a spot under his chin.  "Immunity." 
 
She was silent for a moment, finally bringing her eyes up to his face.  
"Immunity?  What the hell does that mean?" she demanded.   
 
"How the hell should I know,. you're the doctor." he snarled and 
shifted his weight again. 
 
Her eyebrows drew together.  "You're the psychologist, write a profile 
on him." 
 
"I never saw his profile, he was behind me the whole time," he 
retorted, then, as he saw her shift, "Don't come near me, Scully.  I'll 
shoot you.  I have a gun." 
 
She slid across the couch toward him anyway, smirking.  "Oooh, I 
love it when you talk dirty, Mulder." 
 
"Don't touch me, dammit--ow, dammit, not on the lips, Scully, not on 
the lips, dammit, don't touch my lips!"  He fended her off with less 
than his usual skill, ended up on the floor, rolling around while she 
tried to get his gun.   
 
His real gun.   
 
Evidently, she took his threat seriously--which was damned smart, 
considering he was taking the safety off when he rolled onto his back 
with her straddling his chest.  "I mean it, Scully, I'll shoot you!" 
 
"No, you won't, Mulder."  She unbuttoned the shirt he'd stolen from 
Veblein.  The sleeves were too short and it was too tight across the 
shoulders, but it was better than his drool and semen soaked 
sweater. 
 
"The safety's off, Scully," he warned, a little close to hysteria.  "I 
mean it, I'll shoot you deader than dirt." 
 
"Dirt isn't dead, Mulder," she purred, running her fingernails over his 
nipples.  "It's full of little microorganisms." 
 
He yelped--his nipples were still tender from Veblein's and X's teeth--
and put the gun to the side of her head.  "Right in the head, Scully.  
I've got nothing left to lose." 
 
"Mulder, if you shoot me, you'll go to jail," she told him, sliding down 
so she could get the rest of the buttons.  "And you know what's 
gonna happen to you in jail, don't you?" 
 
He moaned, thinking about that. "Okay, I'll shoot *myself* after I 
shoot you!" 
 
The door opened suddenly. 
 
Looking up, his stomach tightening in dread, Mulder saw Chesterton 
staring at him wide-eyed, saw Skinner and his wife standing behind 
him.  "Aren't you supposed to be at the office?" he asked faintly, 
hope draining out of him.  He could maybe kill Scully.  He didn't think 
he could kill all four of them. 
 
Although it might be worth a try. 
 
Inching toward him, hand resting on his holster, Chesterton 
swallowed.  "It's Saturday, Spooks, we don't go in on Saturday's 
normally." 
 
Skinner crowded through, passed Chesterton, and hunkered down.  
"Agent Mulder, put the gun down.  You don't really want to shoot your 
partner." 
 
Yes, actually, he did.   And then he wanted to shoot Chesterton and 
Skinner and Mrs. Skinner.  And then himself.... 
 
Suddenly, it was all too much.  He was doomed, he might as well just 
accept it, take it like a man....  "I'm hungry," he whimpered.  "And 
tired.  And sore.  I wanna go home." 
 
"Mulder, you are home," Scully pointed out, her expression gleeful. 
 
"And I brought some chicken soup," Sharon Skinner came through, 
carrying a pot.  "Walter said he wasn't sure you were feeling well, 
and Tom said you hadn't made it home all night--we thought we'd 
better make sure you and Agent Scully were all right." 
 
He *was* doomed.  Defeated, he put the gun down and covered his 
face with his hands.  "I want something to eat first," he moaned.  
"Lots and lots of food.  And a shower.  And sleep." 
 
Skinner knelt beside him, tracing the shape of his ear.  "I can't 
guarantee the sleep, Agent Mulder, but I can vouch for the food and 
the shower.  Phew, you smell like you've been ridden hard and put up 
wet." 
 
Scully giggled.  The bitch.  He really did want to shoot her.  Multiple 
times.   
 
"Oh, he's been ridden hard,sir," Scully told Skinner, chortling, "I'm 
not sure he's going to be able to sit down for days.  Lots and lots of 
days." 
 
Sharon Skinner knelt, too.  "Poor Agent Mulder," she cooed, stroking 
the hair back from his forehead.  "You go take your shower and I'll fix 
you up a nice hot bowl of chicken soup." 
 
Eyes moving to her, he saw only kindness there--no, wait, there was 
a hint of lust.  His lower lip trembled.  "Promise?" 
 
"Of course," she told him, her tone sincere.  "We'll keep Agent Scully 
occupied while you eat." 
 
Skinner chuckled.  "Come on, Mulder, up on your feet--Scully.  
Scully?  Scully, you have to get off him." 
 
Sighing, Scully obeyed.  "Well, all right, but only if you promise to 
keep me occupied." 
 
"Want some help in the shower, Spooks?" Chesterton asked 
solicitiously, moving forward. 
 
Whimpering, he let Skinner help him to his feet.  "No, no help, 
nobody helps me, and I'm locking the bathroom door." 
 
Skinner ruffled his hair.  "Go ahead, Mulder, I'll stand guard." 
 
He started for the bathroom, but stopped, suddenly frozen by a 
thought.  "But sir, who's going to guard me from you?" 
 
Skinner's chuckle made his hair stand on end.  All but running, he ran 
for the bathroom and locked himself in. 



Disclaimer:  Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and  
Agent Pendrell, Sharon Skinner, Skinner's secretary Kimberly, the 
Lone Gunmen and X all belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen 
Productions. No infringement upon their copyrights is intended, and 
they'd probably have apoplexy if they knew what I was doing to them.  
All others are copyrighted by me, for whatever that's worth.   
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN!!!!!!  Do not pass 
Go, do not collect $200 dollars, go directly to File Close and find 
something else to read..... 
 
STOP HERE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY NON-STANDARD 
SEXUAL SITUATIONS, INCLUDING M/M, F/F, M/F/M/F/M, AND SO 
ON!! 
 
RATED NC-17 for bad language, explicit and unusual sexual 
situations, and general subversiveness and depravity. 
 
No flames, although constructive criticism is not rejected, and all  
intelligent humane response will be answered....eventually.  
 
The Sweet Smell of X-Cess 14/14 
by Exxed@aol.com 
 
Scully leaned against the bathroom door, tapping on it patiently.  "Mulder, 
you have to come out.   Tom and Walter have gone to get some tools to 
take the door off."  All that could be heard was whimpering.  She shrugged 
and looked at Sharon hopefully. 
 
Sharon sighed and moved toward the door.  "Fox, I've got a nice hot 
bowl of soup for you.  Aren't you hungry?  You know, Walter's not 
going to be very happy if he has to take the hinges off your bathroom 
door." 
 
Scully waited.  After a long, long moment, the lock clicked.  A sadder, 
thinner, wearier, hungrier Mulder opened the door, wrapped only in a 
towel.  Her mouth watered, but she managed to control the desire to 
yank it off. 
 
Sharon held the bowl out, temptingly.  "And I've got some nice crusty 
rolls, Fox," she murmured. 
 
Mesmerized, he took a step forward.  "Nobody will bother me while I 
eat?" he asked hopefully. 
 
"No one will bother you while you eat," Sharon agreed, giving Scully a 
stern look. 
 
Scully bit her lip and nodded agreement.  "I promise, Mulder." 
 
He darted out of the bathroom then, and vanished into his bedroom, 
emerging after a few moments wearing ratty sweats, socks, and his 
bathrobe.  "Okay, then." 
 
Still holding the bowl of soup, Sharon lured him out to the kitchen.  
Sitting down, he took the bowl and spoon and dug in ravenously. 
 
Watching, Scully almost felt badly.  He really was starving.  And no 
wonder.  After all, X had reminded her just how much energy he was 
burning, and the poor guy hadn't had any sleep to speak of--buttering 
a roll generously, she gave it to him.   
 
He almost took her fingertips with it, biting into it with such 
enthusiasm, she was relieved he'd used his hand to snatch it.  After 
all, they'd gotten him two big Macs, two orders of fries, a lot of 
caffeine.....there was no call for this! 
 
Sharon watched happily as he polished off four rolls, two bowls of 
soup, two microwave pizzas and four glasses of milk before Skinner 
and Chesterton returned with Skinner's toolkit. 
 
Skinner came into the kitchen and watched in awe as Mulder finished 
his meal.  "Good God, Scully, what have you been doing to him?" 
 
"Moi?"  Scully widened her eyes innocently.  "I wasn't the one who 
fucked him--how many times was it last night, Mulder?--in Veblein's 
office.  Or in the car." 
 
Skinner chuckled; Mulder gave him a dark look and finished off his 
milk.  "I'm going to take a nap," he announced, his tone more than a 
little truculent. 
 
Skinner arched an eyebrow at him.  Scully grinned.  "Sir, maybe you 
better tuck him in." 
 
"Hey, I wanna tuck him in," Chesterton protested. 
 
There was a wild look in Mulder's eyes; oooh, she loved it, she really 
did.  He was so darn cute when he was reluctant, it made her quiver 
deep inside. 
 
She grinned at him.  "Live a little, Mulder, maybe you can sleep 
between innings." 
 
Moaning, he bolted for the bedroom.....only he was not alone. 
 
 
Mulder was dreaming.  At least, he hoped he was dreaming.    
 
Unfortunately, he was dreaming that someone was sucking him off, 
which, at this point, was more on the order of a nightmare.  He'd 
rather dream about little grey men performing experiments on him.... 
 
Cracking open one eyelid, he looked down to find Chester's lips 
locked on his shaft--whimpering, he raised his eyes to find that 
Skinner was slamming into Chester from behind.   
 
Sharon Skinner and Scully were occupying each other beside him; 
turning his head, he got a much better look at Sharon Skinner than 
he'd ever wanted to have.... 
 
"I'm hungry," he whined.  "Chester, stop that, I'm hungry." 
 
Everybody stopped and stared at him. 
 
"Looks who's awake," Skinner said cheerfully.  "Scully, I think it's time 
for his two o'clock feeding." 
 
Raising her head, Scully sighed.  "Mulder, you could mess up a wet 
dream, you know that?  All right, all right, I'll get you something to 
eat." 
 
Sharon Skinner ruffled his hair.  "Poor Agent Mulder," she crooned.  
"We've just been abusing your hospitality shamefully." 
 
He peered toward the windows, shuddering.  It was dark out.  He 
turned his head toward the clock, he found it was, in fact, two am.  
 
Didn't any of these people have a life?  Was sex all they had to 
occupy their time?  What about art, music, basketball?  What about 
cable television?  What about pornography?  Why couldn't they just 
fantasize like normal people?  Why did they have to bring their 
fantasies into reality?  Especially their fantasies about him? 
 
They'd all piled on top of him when he fled to the bedroom, trying to 
figure out who squirmed the most in the middle.  Unhappily, it had 
been him, which had only spurred on the proceedings, especially 
when Sparky had raised his flagging self and shown some interest in 
them. 
 
He'd finally gotten to sleep around four.  He didn't remember anything 
else.  No, wait, he remembered somebody feeding him chicken soup 
around eight when he'd pleaded for something to eat, while Scully--
oh, god, he couldn't bear to remember, it was worse than the 
elevator. 
 
The most terrible thing was not remembering whether or not he'd had 
the chance to fuck either Chester or Skinner.  It was only fair, after 
all, turnabout, fair play, all that crap.... 
 
Bereft of Scully, Sharon Skinner pulled Chester around by the ears 
and put his mouth to use where it was wanted.  Still stroking in and 
out of Chester, Skinner looked down on Mulder, admiringly.  "You 
sure you don't need a little attention, Agent Mulder?" 
 
Mulder looked down at that rat bastard Sparky, standing up in 
defiance of his master.  "I'm quite sure, sir," he whimpered and 
yanked a corner of the sheet up over himself; he discovered that it 
was unpleasantly damp and tossed it back hastily. 
 
Skinner's eyes moved back to what he was doing--thank god, it gave 
him a chance to stealthily slide out of bed and grab his discarded 
sweats.  He knew they were his, Chester and Skinner had both been 
wearing jeans..... 
 
Tiptoeing down the hall, he found his trainers and socks in the 
bathroom, paused in the darkness as Scully went past carrying a 
bowl.....please god, don't let her see him, oh, 
pleasepleaseplease....she didn't. 
 
The minute she passed, he darted out and down the hallway, 
fumbling into his sweat pants before breaking for the front door.   
 
The sound of shattering crockery could be heard behind him--he 
bolted again, shirt, socks, shoes under one arm, moving as fast as 
his depleted condition would allow. 
 
He made it almost to the elevator before Chester tackled him, 
wearing only jeans. 
 
"Lemme go!" he cried hopelessly.  "Please, Chester, be a pal, lemme 
get out of here, I won't tell anyone, I won't do anyone, I just wanna 
get some sleep." 
 
One of his neighbor's doors opened. 
 
Eyeing the elderly man with a nervous smile, Chester picked up him 
and set him on his feet.  "Now, now, Spooks, you know you're sick, 
you don't need to be going anywhere until you're feeling better." 
 
"I'm not sick," Mulder said piteously.  Well, he wasn't, unless being 
sick of sex could count.  "Please let me go, Chester.  Didn't I get you 
through that forensics exam?  Huh?  You owe me." 
 
"Heh, heh," Chester patted his hair, gave the neighbor man a thin 
smile.  "He's got a high fever, he's delirious, thinks he's J. Edgar 
Hoover."  Mulder doubted Hoover had ever dreamt of having as much 
sex as he'd had in the last 24 hours.   
 
On the other hand, maybe he had, and that was why he'd been such 
a perennially hard-nosed, tightassed bastard.   
 
*He* was about ready to defect to the Consortium, if only they would 
save him from going back in that apartment.  And if Cancerman 
wasn't already slavering for him.  "Save me," he begged his neighbor.  
"All they want to do is have sex with me." 
 
The door slammed shut.  A moment later, he heard the clicking of 
multiple deadbolts. 
 
"Spooks, don't you think you're bein' just a little paranoid?"  Chester 
put an arm around him.  "Scully said you were acting a little weird 
after what Veblein did.  Got to get back on the horse that threw you, 
pal." 
 
He shuddered deeply, but surrendered, letting Chester lead him back 
to his apartment. 
 
Scully looked annoyed, tapping one bare foot while she paced the 
livingroom, wearing only one of his t-shirts.  Skinner's expression was 
tolerant and Sharon's was amused.   
 
"Mulder," Scully hissed, raising a dainty fist in front of his nose.  "I 
oughta--" 
 
"Agent Scully," Skinner interrupted.  "Agent Chesterton, go in and 
run Agent Mulder a hot bath." 
 
Ohmigod, now what were they planning.  A hot bath?  What new 
depravity was he expected to participate in? 
 
"A hot bath?"  Chesterton sounded baffled.   
 
"A hot bath," Skinner repeated and laid a heavy hand on Mulder's 
shoulder. 
 
Mulder cringed.  "A hot bath?" he asked faintly, fearfully.  What could 
they do to him in a hot bath?  Oh, god, Skinner wasn't thinking of 
enemas, was he?  Please, oh, please, let that not be it.... 
 
Skinner's mouth twitched at him.  "Just a hot bath," he assured him.  
"You're just a little tired and sore, Agent Mulder.  You'll feel better 
after a hot bath." 
 
He doubted even microwaving would make him feel better.  "I don't 
think so, sir," he told Skinner doubtfully.  "I'm a lot sore and a lot 
tired.  I don't even want to see *myself* naked, let alone anyone 
else." 
 
Skinner nodded understandingly.  "You've been a busy boy, the last 
few days, Agent Mulder.  You're not used to it." 
 
Just thinking about *getting* used to it made his skin crawl.   
 
Sharon vanished into the kitchen and came back with a steaming 
bowl.  "Sit down, Agent Mulder," she told him smoothly.  "You need 
sustenance."  She winked at Scully.  "Unfortunately, you fellas need a 
lot of refueling." 
 
Refueling.  God, they thought he was a machine....still, it smelled 
awfully good.  Whimpering a little, he let himself be guided to a chair 
and opened his mouth for the first spoonful. 
 
Scully glowered at him the entire time. 
 
 
Much later, scowling, Scully regarded her supine partner with 
annoyance.   
 
He'd polished off a gallon of milk, the rest of the soup, had scrambled 
eggs and toast and been bathed like a pasha.  He'd whined about the 
sheets until Chesterton had put on fresh, whimpered about how sore 
and tired he was until Skinner gave him a head to toe massage, and 
was now lying with his head in Sharon Skinner's lap whining about 
how his partner didn't understand him while Chester rubbed his feet. 
 
As if divining her discontent, Skinner stroked her spine.  "Down, girl, 
he's just worn out."  His mouth was warm on the nape of her neck.  
"You can't ride a good horse until he drops." 
 
She melted, almost purred as Skinner's fingers loosened the knots in 
her shoulders.  Well, okay, as long as she was getting her share, 
Mulder could whine all he wanted..... 
 
"Who said Mulder's a good horse?" she asked lazily.  "He's already 
out of the race." 
 
Skinner chuckled in her ear.  "He's been ridden pretty hard--how 
many times did Veblein fuck him?" 
 
"Mmm, he said five."  Skinner's hand moved deliciously lower, 
stroking the small of her back.  She arched into it happily. 
 
Skinner's breath kissed her skin.  "And how many times did X do 
him?" 
 
Scully frowned.  Okay, maybe she'd been a little unfair.  "Only twice." 
 
"And Pendrell?"  Skinner's mouth teased her ear lobe, sending 
shivers through her. 
 
"Mm, at least once." 
 
"And you and Chester?" 
 
"Well, only once, but he came about five or six times." 
 
Skinner drew back, incredulous.  "Get outa here!" 
 
"No, really, I counted."  Scully giggled softly, remembering. 
 
"Amazing."  Skinner kissed the side of her throat.  "But then, he's 
always amazed me.  There's a rumor he was the center of a party in 
the elevator earlier in the day."  Skinner *licked* the side of her 
throat, moved his hand over the curve of her buttocks and down, 
teasing her with light, feathery touches. 
 
Her eyes widened fractionally.  An orgy in the elevator?  And she'd 
missed it?  "That little worm." 
 
Skinner chuckled again.  "Wasn't his fault, I hear.  He was more or 
less an innocent bystander in that one, or so Kim tells me.  I'll have to 
keep her busy or she'll be stalking him in the basement.  Oh, and 
Cancerman took a crack at him." 
 
She shuddered.  "No way." 
 
"Mulder threw up on Cancerman's shoes."  Skinner chuckled again, 
slipped his fingers inside her.  "Have a little pity this time, Scully.  
The poor guy's done in." 
 
She sighed, half-closed her eyes, then opened them abruptly.  
Mulder was nuzzling Sharon Skinner's breasts while Chester stroked 
his thighs.  "Oh, really." 
 
"That proves the quality in his bloodlines," Skinner murmured.  "Can't 
keep a good man down for long."  He sighed and moved behind her.  
"Let's see, where is that box--ah, here it is."  There was a tearing 
sound; she turned to see him properly dressed for the occasion.  
Leaning forward, she sighed as he slid into her and began to move 
her hips to and fro. 
 
Mulder looked at her, smiling drowsily.  Whatever he might think, his 
body was just as interested as it ever was--just watching Chester go 
down on him made her mouth water..... 
 
Oooh, this was the hottest time she'd ever had, three hot men and 
two hot women--whoever said orgies couldn't be fun?  Certainly not 
Dana Katherine Scully, graduate of parochial schools....no wonder 
nuns were cranky all the time, they never had any fun! 
 
Skinner's hands held her hips, slid down between her legs and busied 
themselves in the most amazing ways.  She was never going to be 
able to sit across from his desk and listen to him rant at Mulder 
without remembering this.....oooh, Sharon had gotten into the act 
with Chester, Mulder was doing that little whimpering thing  again that 
drove everyone crazy.... 
 
She wondered if Mulder knew that Chester really was gay, he'd 
confided it to her while cooking dinner the night before....nah, he 
thought it was Chester's sense of humor, no sense in letting *that* 
news out, it might spoil things later on.... 
 
Skinner's hips moved forward, his belly hitting her from behind; she 
arched her back, wanting him deeper, his fingertips tormented her, 
stroked the slippery hood gently, oh, so gently, just the right 
touch.....oooh, no wonder he'd risen so fast in the Bureau, a man of 
many talents..... 
 
"Agent Scully," Skinner murmured, "I think it might be time to 
consider giving you and Agent Mulder a more suitable office for your 
department." 
 
She couldn't seem to get her breath.  "Oh, no, sir, we like the 
basement." 
 
He kept moving those hips, pushing in and out of her with 
excruciatingly slow movements.  "Oh, really?  I can understand that.  
But at least I can get a better couch down there." 
 
She could feel him smile against the nape of her neck.  "A queen size 
sleeper couch would be nice, sir." 
 
"Why take half-measures?  We'll get a king."    He did something 
amazingly deft with his fingers. 
 
She moaned, feeling another orgasm sneaking up on her.  "Oh, 
yeah, and we'll need sheets, sir.  And lots of other supplies." 
 
"Submit the expense reports, Agent Scully."  He nibbled at the side of 
her throat, sounding a little breathless himself.  "I'll see that they're 
signed." 
 
"Ohgodogodogod," she cried, "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm 
coming....." 
 
Mulder started from sexual paralysis as if someone had goosed him.  
"God, Scully, the neighbors will hear you!" 
 
As if on cue, someone pounded the ceiling. 
 
Everyone but Mulder looked up.  "Get a life," they said in unison and 
Mulder pulled a pillow over his head. 
 
 
Blinking, Walter Skinner stared at the digital clock and realized what 
it was trying to tell him.  11:21 in the morning.  Wow, what a day.  
What a night.  What a morning.   
 
Lifting his head, he regarded the prone shapes around him and 
realized he'd been sleeping with his head on Mulder's sweet little ass.  
Patting it affectionately, he lifted a pillow and found his wife with her 
head pillowed on Chesterton's groin.   
 
He had to assume that the shape under the sheets at the bottom of 
the bed was Scully.  Mulder, aside from his ass, was covered with 
pillows and the bedspread.   
 
And so far as he remembered, they hadn't invited anyone else. 
 
Leaning down, he kissed Sharon's mouth.  "Rise and shine, 
sweetheart, we ought to be getting home.  Your mother's coming 
over for dinner tonight." 
 
Sharon yawned and stretched like a cat, working out the kinks.  
"Mmm, come here, lover.  I haven't had this much fun in years." 
 
There was a small, almost frightened sound from the pillows covering 
Mulder's head.  The pillows shifted and two wide hazel eyes could be 
seen.  "I'm going to close my eyes and when I open them again, you 
aren't going to be here," a shaky voice said.  "No one's going to be 
here but me." 
 
Skinner patted his ass again, leaning down to plant a kiss on it.  
"Mulder, I have to admit, I owe you an apology.  I don't usually fuck 
department heads."  Another pat.  "Usually, only the junior agents.  
But you were just irresistable." 
 
The eyes disappeared again in a hurry.  The pile of pillows trembled.  
"I'm having a really strange dream," a small voice said from beneath 
them.  "A really, really strange and scary dream." 
 
Skinner chuckled.  "We had a lovely time, Mulder, but we have to be 
going now.  Give my regards to Agent Scully when she wakes up."  
He slid off the bed. 
 
A faint moan came from under the rolled up sheets.  "Where am I?" 
asked Scully's voice. 
 
Sharon patted the lump helpfully.  "At the bottom of the bed, dear.  
Would you like me to make some coffee?" 
 
"Coffee"  Chesterton lifted his head.  "Mmm, I think that's my job."  
He rolled out of bed, leaned over and smacked Mulder's ass lightly.  
"Come on, Spooks, rise and shine." 
 
"I'm having a really, really, really strange and scary dream," Mulder 
said fearfully, still hiding under the pillows.  "I must have had 
anchovies on my pizza last night." 
 
A red tousled head emerged from the sheets, poking out worriedly.  
"What am I doing here?"  She looked at Sharon, blushed scarlet, 
looked at Skinner, blushed even darker.  "Oh, my God, it wasn't a 
dream, it all really happened." 
 
Skinner touched the tip of her nose lightly.  "Mmhmm," he agreed 
cheerfully.  "I think maybe coffee would be a good idea, Sharon.  We 
can get a shower while these folks wake up." 
 
Chesterton patted Scully's butt through the sheet and wandered 
sleepily out into the hall; still smiling, Sharon and Skinner followed. 
 
 
"I'm having a really, really, really, really strange and scary and 
*unlikely* dream."  Saying it didn't make it so, of course, but Mulder 
felt better.  Well, not a whole lot better.  There were places on his 
body he hadn't known could *get* sore that were sore.  "A really, 
really, really--" 
 
"Put a sock in it, Mulder," Scully told him waspishly and knocked the 
pillows away.  "This is all your fault, dammit, you had to go out to 
Verlaine perfumes.   Do you know what kind of penance the priest is 
gonna give me when I go to confession and tell him about this?" 
 
Eeeeew, she was naked.  Completely naked.   
 
And she wasn't a natural redhead.  "Scully, I think I should point out 
that you oughta color *all* your hair if you wanna be known as a 
redhead." 
 
Crack!  Her palm came down on his left buttock, galvanizing him into 
motion--he fell out of bed, tangled up in the bedspread and 
whimpering.  "Ow, ow, ow, Scully, that hurt!" 
 
She looked like an Irish fury, towering over him on the bed.  He 
gulped and scooted backwards, picking up a splinter on the way.  
"This," she told him dangerously, "Is a typical Mulder cluster fuck, I 
do mean CLUSTERFUCK in the most literal sense of the word!!" 
 
He backed further, awed in spite of himself.  Wow, when she cut 
loose, she really cut loose.   
 
He was glad her gun wasn't anywhere near.  At least he hoped it 
wasn't.  "It was X's fault," he whined, "He told me about it."  He let his 
lower lip tremble, hoping for some sign of softening....oh, good, it was 
working, she was simmering down, eyeing him with much less 
malevolence. 
 
"Well," she finally huffed, "At least you managed to fuck him." 
 
He let his lower lip tremble more.  "Not as much as he managed to 
fuck me," he whimpered, "And you told him he could, Scully.  After I 
let Veblein do what he wanted to try and get the cure."   
 
Her expression shifted, revealing discomfort at that.  Ah, he knew 
that was going to have *some* kind of payoff.....and people thought 
*he* was the guilt maven, they didn't know Catholic girls.... 
 
But it shifted again and she regarded him narrowly.  "Did I ask you to 
go there?" she demanded.  "And whose fault was it that Veblein 
croaked before he could give you a cure or an...."  Something moved 
behind her eyes, her expression shifted yet again.  "Mulder, you're 
naked." 
 
He thought about that nervously and wrapped more of the bedspread 
around him.  "So are you, Scully." 
 
A slow smile spread across her face, as bright as sunrise.  "Mulder, 
you're naked and I don't have the slightest desire to do you.  *That's* 
what Veblein meant!  The body reacts to the virus like it reacts to 
*any* infection.  And the symptoms must be uncontrollable sexual 
activity."  Her eyes lit up and she beamed at him. 
 
Oh.  Good.  "I'd rather have the flu," he told her pathetically.  "At 
least it only takes a couple of days to recover and I can sit down 
when it's over." 
 
"Shut up, Mulder, I'm thinking."  Standing up, she paced across the 
room, brows drawn together.  "But it's a very dumb virus, it doesn't 
really replicate, it just stimulates pheromones like mad, which 
stimulate the sexual behaviors, which burn out the virus.  Mulder, I'll 
bet we're loaded with antibodies.  We've got a cure after all!" 
 
He let that digest.  "Oh, good," he sighed and leaned against the wall, 
wobbly with relief.  "It's over then." 
 
Abruptly, she swung on him.  It was definitely PMS.  He'd thought so 
the other day, before all this had started.  "Not yet, it isn't over, you 
jerk, you took me out there!" 
 
"You let him put the stuff on you," he protested as she advanced, 
covering his head with his arms. 
 
She paused, about arm's reach from him, hand still raised.  One bare 
foot tapped on the wooden floor as she considered that.  He watched 
it apprehensively, not daring to look up.    
 
Finally, he had to, the suspense was killing him.  She frowned at him.  
"It's only because you're right about that, Mulder, that I'm not going 
to shoot you again.  Ugh, puh-lease get dressed, I never want to see 
you naked again." 
 
Some indignation roused in his chest at this statement.  "Scully, may 
I point out that this is MY bedroom?  *You* get dressed, I never want 
to see *you* naked again, either."   
 
Or Chester, or Skinner or Sharon Skinner, or--he shuddered--X.   He 
wasn't sure he'd recognize anyone from the elevator, but he damned 
sure didn't want to see them naked again, ever.  EverNeverEverNever 
Ever!  
 
Buddhism was still looking awfully good to him. 
 
They stared at each other for a long time in silence, starting when  
Skinner appeared, damp and fully dressed, carrying two cups of 
coffee.  "Gotta run, Tom's going to come over and help me get some 
work done in the garage."  He winked.  "Mulder, dinner at my house, 
Tuesday night.  Scully, you come on Thursday." 
 
They stared at each other in dismay as Skinner went back down the 
hallway, continued staring as the front door shut and voices faded. 
 
"Sc-u-u-u-l-l-y," Mulder whimpered.  "What am I gonna do?" 
 
She sat down on the edge of the bed suddenly, glaring at him.  "You 
better write out your will, Mulder.  I just decided, I'm gonna kill you 
anyway." 
 
Still wearing the bedspread, he bolted for the livingroom and hid the 
guns before she caught up with him.