From: "mezzosoprano" Date: Sat, 3 Jan 2004 12:41:31 -0000 Subject: There Were Two in the Bed by Mezzosoprano Source: direct TITLE:There Were Two in the Bed AUTHOR: Mezzosoprano EMAIL: mezzosoprano@blueyonder.co.uk ARCHIVING: Sure, just keep these headers attached, please. CATEGORY: MSR RATING: *DEFINITELY* NC-17. Kiddies, go play elsewhere! SPOILERS: Don't think so. DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully - not mine. But you knew that, right?! The motel manager's mine, though. Also, the 'Armstrong-Moon Landing Commentary' is not mine, nor are the allusions (is that the right word?) to Elvis, MTV, or the Discovery Channel. I have both MTV *and* the Discovery Channel, and they're both great. Elvis' music is pretty great too (enough crawling?!) No infringement intended, No money being made. FEEDBACK: The above email address is at your disposal. SUMMARY: 'I look deeply into his eyes and issue the command. "F**k me, Mulder."' AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two Special Agents, one King-Size bed. You do the Math. There Were Two in the Bed by Mezzosoprano Another case. Another week in the field. Another night in another crummy motel. Even by Mulder's standards, this is a bit of a dump. Hang on a second, this is *my* head I'm thinking in. No point in being polite about it. It's a shit-heap. When we passed the sign for the 'Heartbreak Motel', I should have guessed. I should've taken control of the wheel right then and stopped him making the turning. Why didn't I? Something was nagging at my brain, that's why. Probably the fact that we hadn't passed any other accommodation in thirty or forty miles. And probably wouldn't still, even thirty or forty miles farther on. But, when I saw the grin... I should've taken action. The grin that said: 'Oh look, Scully... a motel that's neary named after a classic by the King. Oh, we can't *not* stay there, Sculleeeeee...' But I didn't take action, and now we're here. And I thought he'd be *ever* so happy. So, the fact that he's almost hauling the manager over the desk by the lapels as I return from the ladies' room, is a puzzle. It's also making a small warm glow emenate from my navel to somewhere south of there, a fact which I try to ignore. "Mulder? What's going on?" "I was just trying to explain to Agent Mulder that we only have room 8 left," explains the manager, turning to me. His tone is apologetic and I feel sorry for him, all the time wondering what the trouble is. "Room 8?" I ask. "Yes, our last double room." Finally, it clicks. "Did you hear that, Scully? Double room. Not even a twin room. Not even two beds. A double room - with one bed!" "Mulder - I know what it means." He stares at me, exasperated. I turn back to the manager. "I understand that it's not your fault. Please forgive my Partner - he's been driving a long time. Tell me... how close is the next motel?" "Truthfully?" he asks. I nod. "You'd be driving 'til breakfast, Ma'am." The idea of driving through the night does not appeal. Suddenly, I become aware of the fact that Mulder is tugging on my sleeve, like a small child trying to gain my attention. "You're not really considering this, are you Scully? We could drive on, we could sleep in the car..." He is running out of options, and he knows it. My brain is slowly registering that he is trying to get out of sleeping in the same bed as me, and I mentally note to analyse that later. "Mulder, I am *not* driving through the night." "Okay then - I'll drive." I think it's because 'the eyebrow' has put in an appearance that he backs down. He steps aside, letting me move back to the desk. However, I'm sure I hear him murmur something along the lines of: 'be it on your own head....' xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I cannot believe Scully is taking this room. I mean, staying in these god-awful establishments is nothing new (although, using that name is sacrilage, considering the state this place is in - 'war-zone' springs to mind) but we could always walk out to the sanctuary of our own rooms before. To our own bed.... mm. Okay, bottom line. How the hell, in the name of everything that is considered holy, am I going to be able to lie beside her all night, and not make a move or a sound? I wonder if she's got any general anaesthetic in her bag, 'cos it's the only way. God, it seems like the ultimate torture. To lie so close, to probably inhale her scent, but not to touch. Not to touch that porcelain skin, that hair of flames... Oh. My. God. I'm following her down the path now towards room 8. Is it my imagination, or is she *shimmying?!* It must be my imagination, because suddenly, here's a vision of two naked orbs, the most glorious peach... just waiting for me to sink my teeth into it... all the blood in my body appears to be rushing somewhere south of my stomach... Oh, god help me. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx On opening the door, I see a bed and nothing else. No, that's not true. On further inspection, there appears to be a chair, a dresser, a tv and a wardrobe in the room. However, my brain only registers the bed. A king-size bed. I hear Mulder bring the bags in behind me and close the door. Remembering his demeanour from before, I'm wondering what his reaction will be when he actually *sees* the bed. Well, wonder no more, Dana. He's staring at it, and his mouth doesn't appear to be working. "Scully..." Oops, my mistake. "We don't have to do this, you know. I could sleep in the bath or something..." His voice trails off. I've had enough of this. "Mulder... we are adults, are we not?" "Yes, Scully." "Mm-mm. And close friends?" "*Best* friends, Scully." "Right. So we shouldn't have any great difficulty sharing a bed overnight, should we?" "You *really* don't have a problem with this?" "No. Do you?" He shrugs his shoulders. "Guess not." "Okay then. I call first go in the bathroom." "Sure." He then dives onto the bed. The *right* side of the bed. Finally, he realises that I am staring at him. "What?" "Is that your side of the bed?" "Usually." "Then we have a problem." "Let me guess - it's also yours?" "Your psychic ability is working well today, I see." "Ha fucking ha. No problem. I can sleep on the left." "Really?" "Hey, you're talking to someone who slept on a couch every night for six years. This is all relatively new to me. I can switch." "Thank you, Mulder." Did I just bat my eyelashes? Did I? I must have. His grin has lascivious overtones. Breathing a bit too quickly, I move through to the bathroom, overnight bag in tow. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Okay, *that* wasn't my imagination. Not this time. Oh, wow! She batted her eyelashes at me! Thank God for an eidetic memory. I replay the scene. Oh yeah, it's just as good as the first time! I'm already sporting a bit of a boner. How can I get through this? Jerking off in the shower seems like my only option - I can't lie beside her like this. The water begins to run in the shower, and I can envision her beautifully proportioned body standing underneath the spray, droplets of water dancing as they tumble down her shoulders, her back, her breasts.... Oh, Jesus. Fully erect now. Oh, Scully.... hurry up with that shower, please..... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Rummaging through my overnight bag, I find that my attire for this evening is..... my navy silk nightshirt. Not even pyjamas. Mm. I didn't plan this, did I? I mean, subconsciously? Truth is, I've been *noticing* my Partner more and more recently. Night after night cooped up in a car was always destined to do two things... either I run screaming from the car, desperate for some wide open spaces... or, I throw myself at him, screaming, wanting him inside me. Why do I think I *want* my Partner? Well, the need for him to fuck me senseless has been strong just... everytime I've glanced at him lately. And I've gotten tired of just sitting back and waiting for something to happen. However, bold as this is for me, I can't do more. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. Surely us sleeping under the same covers (and not just the same sky) will ensure *something* happens - won't it? I study myself in the mirror, taking in my sparkling blue eyes; my hair, curling now from the water, scented again with the shampoo; my lips, that delicate shade of rosebud pink. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Frohike, in his best suit. Skinner, in his 'is this meant to be an expense claim?' mode. The Hoover Building Occupational Nurse. Nope. Not this time. Little Mulder is now pointing at the ceiling. Well, he would be, if I was naked. No way am I getting naked or anything like it until Little Mulder is giving it 'golden slumbers'. The shower stopped seven minutes ago. Oh, come on! Bill Scully Jr. during his latest tirade... nothing's working! Shit, that's the door! Erm... panicking, I grab my overnight bag, holding it protectively in front of me. The second she opens the door, I rush through, seeking sanctuary. "Are you alright Mulder?" "Yeah, yeah... I just *really* need to pee..." I slide the bolt on the door, and heave a short sigh of relief. Wait a second. What is she *wearing*? I saw legs... acres of soft, sweet Scullyskin... down, boy. This is not helping your case. Get that shower on. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Well, I guess I didn't need to be anxious about his reaction. I doubt my appearance even registered in his brain at the speed he rushed by me. Maybe my first instinct was right after all. Maybe he's *not* interested. What was it Cher sang? 'Does he love me? I wanna know - how can I tell if he loves me so? It's in his kiss.' Yeah, but can I ever get him to kiss me so I can find out? I sink almost dejectedly onto the bed with a sigh, and hunt for the remote control to the television. Just as I love my bubble baths, Mulder loves his showers. He's going to be a while. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx As I take myself in hand, my left hand to be precise, I hope this water is sufficiently loud. Long, leisurely strokes until I see a few drops of precum at the tip. I spread it around with my thumb before it's washed away. Leaning my right hand against the wall, I replay my favourite Scully fantasy behind my eyelids, and the strokes speed up. She's sitting on my desk now, taking off her blouse, her bra... awwwwww yeah. Touching herself now, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Moaning in pleasure as she throws her head back... Aw fuck, yeah! Sculleeeeee... I bite down on her name as I empty myself onto the tiles and the water washes it all away. Sighing, I wish for the millionth time this year that it could be her hand, her mouth.... her. Resigning myself to reality, I shake my head - and set about cleaning myself up. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx If I see one more infomercial, I am going to scream. Channel-surfing incessantly, I try to find something to pique my interest. So... it's either MTV or The Discovery Channel. What's playing on MTV? Heavy Metal - The Rock Top 10. Discovery then. Great. The Private Life of Birds. Nature's own porn movie. I lie on my stomach, head propped on my hands, at the bottom of the bed; feet on a pillow at the top. I'm watching two finches getting down and dirty onscreen when I become aware that the shower's stopped. Suddenly, the enormity of the situation hits me. He's gonna walk out of there, and get into this bed, beside me. He's going to lie there all night, beside me. How did I ever think that this could be normal? There goes the bolt. My breathing quickens. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Okay, I can do this. My joy department is now asleep, and I'll follow it soon, hopefully. Just pass out, and try not to think about the fact that that perfect, flawless, consummate example of womanhood is lying not six inches away... Stop it!! How're you gonna explain taking a shower at two in the morning? I open the door, and see her sprawled across the bed - or rather, up and down the bed; her feet where her head would be. Oh, Jesus. Is she aware that the navy gossamer she's swathed in is inching ever-so-slowly up her thighs with her every movement? If she lies there long enough.... it's almost enough to make me run screaming for the safety of the bathroom. My mouth's gone dry. Oh Lord, no. This *can't* be happening. Not again. I'm only in a pair of sweats for God's sake. Think about *anything* else. Talk to her. But just as I open my mouth, she talks to me. "Good shower?" It was the best, Scully. Best jerk-off to a fantasy about you yet. "It was okay." I glance at the television screen, trying like crazy to sound nonchalant. "What are you watching?" "Oh.... n-nothing much," and she fumbles for the remote to turn it off. Curiouser and curiouser. From here it looked like a Discovery Channel special on Ornithology. I watch as she scoots up the bed and slides underneath the covers. On the *right* hand side, of course. "We'd better get some sleep, Mulder. Long day tomorrow." "I usually read a little first, when I'm not that sleepy." Well, one part of me is wide awake, anyway. The wrong part. Did I just use the word *wrong*? For a second, I think she's going to protest, but she concus eventually. "Alright. Just... not for too long, okay? You'll keep me awake." I nod, and take the longest walk of my life. The walk that will ultimately end with me lying in bed beside Scully. Neil Armstrong's commentary runs through my head... 'One small step for man...' I slide under the covers, the bed already toasty from her body heat. Instantly, my body reacts. 'Oh, Man...' "Did you say something, Mulder?" Shit. "No. Erm... I think I've changed my mind about reading, Scully. Think I'll try sleeping after all." "Okay. Did you set your alarm?" I check my watch. "Yeah." She turns to face me briefly. "Okay. Well... goodnight, Mulder." I llok into those bottomless pools of blue, and suddenly I am grateful for the fact that I am lying away from her, our backs to each other. "Yeah. Sweet dreams, Scully." "You too." We reach out and turn off our respective bedside lamps - suddenly, we are swathed in darkness. It occurs to me that maybe, us lying back to back (not touching) is a bit cold and unfeeling; then I remember my little problem, and think again. I wonder how long it takes a healthy erection to disappear without any interference. A useless piece of information that doesn't help, but I remember the proper name for this action is detumescence. Only handy in a game of Scrabble. Fuck proper terms... how *long*?! All night, if the present situation is anything to go by.... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The light's out.... and he hasn't even tried to touch me once! I'm not *that* obvious a person, but short of straddling him and hauling my nightshirt up, there's not much I can do. And I *know* he's interested. It's been quite funny, actually. The way he's been trying to hide that boner he's been sporting ever since he exited the bathroom - so what's the problem? Alright, I know we're on a case... but I assumed we'd eventually chuck that rule just as we've painstakingly chucked all the others over the years. I can feel the heat from his body from here! Oh dear God... I seem to have this moistness between my legs now. And I want to squeeze these rock hard nipples of mine... squeeze them hard... correction. I want Mulder to squeeze them hard. I wonder how much I could get away with on this side of the bed? When you share a bedroom with your sister for years (and sometimes your brothers too as the need arises - thanks a *lot* Mom) you learn a few things about achieving your objective with limited movement and silence. However, as I said before, I am not *that* bold. I cannot masturbate in front of Mulder (or behind him for that matter). Trying like mad to ignore my body which has become one giant throb, I slide further under the comforter, close my eyes tight shut, and try to sleep. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx When we get back to D.C., I am going to inform Scully she has a new title. Not Special Agent Scully, not Dr. Scully MD.... but Dana Scully, the Human Octopus. I may even feel the need to open an X-File on the phenomena. She moves in her sleep - arms and legs everywhere. And I mean *moves*. I don't think she's having nightmares or anything - I should know - but, no. She just... moves. If I end up booted or elbowed, she's got some serious making-up to do. Ah well.. at least she doesn't snore. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I wish he'd quit it with the snoring. It's not continuous. Actually, it's quite intermittent. Ages can pass... but there it is again. My pillow wrapped round my head doesn't quite drown it out, so I try to wrap the covers around my head a little. I should try to make him stop, but that would mean touching him, and Ive no intention of doing *that*. I wonder how many covers you can wrap round your head before asphyxiation sets in? xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Jeez, I'm cold. What the-? No wonder I'm cold. Beside me lies a cocoon, possibly with a chrysalistic Scully inside. No longer an octopus, Scully is now the Human Butterfly. Actually, that's a nice thought. But I'm *still* cold. And she's *still* got all the covers. Oh, bugger it. I prod the cocoon. "Scully!" No response. I prod harder. "Scully!" Eventually, a hand appears from somwhere inside the mound of covers, and slaps mine away. No chance. I'm wide awake now, so she's gonna hear me. I progress to a gentle shove. "Scully!" This has the desired effect, and a head appears. "Mulder, this better be good." "I'm freezing, Scully!" "What?" I'm beginning to lose patience now. I over-emphasise every word. "*YOU HAVE ALL THE COVERS, SCULLY!!*" She smiles at me, a wicked smile which says 'I got all the covers, and you don't'. Right, I've had enough. Grabbing the edge of the comforter, I give a sharp pull. It comes towards me, but the action also sends Scully spinning to the edge of the bed, and she narrowly misses falling off. She sits up, eyes flaming. "What the hell's wrong with you?" she demands. "All the prodding and the shoving..." I try again. "I was cold. You had all the covers." "You were snoring. I needed something to cover my ears with." "I do *not* snore!" I exclaim. "Oh yes, you do!" We're now standing on the floor facing each other, at opposite sides of the bed. I've switched my lamp on. "You're lucky you didn't wake Skinner back in D.C.! Probably start an earthquake..." She trails off as she sees I am staring at her in a bemused kind of way. "What?" "Oh, I was just thinking. You're beautiful when you're angry, Scully." xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I can't come up with a suitable retort for what he's just said. I don't need a mirror to tell me my eyes are flaming and my cheeks are flushed. "Why are you so angry, Scully?" He really seems unaware of... everything. Oh, what the hell. I give in. "Mulder... we've been in this motel room for five hours. I've been in this nightshirt for four and a half of those hours. We've been in this bed together for four of those hours." I pause, letting all of this information sink in before I drop the final bombshell. "..And you haven't laid so much as a finger on me!" I exclaim. My voice, which must have risen two octaves in the last minute, now becomes soft. "Why?" I ask, imploringly. We do not break eye contact, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head. Suddenly (so suddenly, I think there must be sparks between his legs and the comforter) he launches himself towards me, across the bed. His face is millimetres away from my own, and I can feel his hot breath on my cheek as he tells me why. "Because I was a fool, Scully. An undeniable, certifiable, documents up on the wall and everything... fool." Yeah, but you're *my* fool, Agent Mulder. My grin is lost as his mouth descends on mine, my lips opening almost immediately to grant his tongue access. This is some kiss, because my legs don't seem to support me anymore. Mulder realises this and hauls me onto the bed, his hand lingering on my hip. Only one thought remains as his hand begins to journey lower. 'Yes, Cher... you were right. And he does!' xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx It's official then. I am a dumbass. Dana Scully *wanted* me to touch her tonight, and I didn't figure it out. Hell, maybe she's wanted this for longer than tonight! Truth is, for a long time, we were united in the opinion that a physical relationship was not a good idea. I guess I just stopped reading the signs after that. She's probably been coming on to me for a while now and I didn't pick up on it! Better not tell anyone - they might take back my psychology degree. Well, I'm picking up on it now, if Scully grinding her groin into mine is a sign. Yeah, well... before I lose all conscious thought here, I'll just regard it as a sign and follow on accordingly. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx For someone who didn't have a clue three hours ago, Mulder sure knows what he's doing now. My nightshirt long since discarded, he's paying plenty of attention to my right breast; alternating with the left at times, in case it gets jealous. Oh, that tongue! See, a lot of men think that it's all about sucking. That *is* good, very good, but there *are* variations on a theme. I feel his tongue lave at the tender skin on the inside of my breast, slowly tracing a path back out in the direction of the nipple; this, he caresses with the tip of his tongue, alternately scraping his top teeth across it. My body is one giant throb again. He begins to kiss the underside of my breast now, and my brain slowly registers the fact that he's moving south. I want that. Hell yeah, I want that! But, there's something I want more. I reach out and grab the something I want more. "Sculleeeeeee....." The last syllable of my name is strangulated, as if he can hardly form the word. "Mulder... there *are* other things I'm desperate for you to do," I manage. Something's sucking all the air out of the room. "But right now, I want you inside me." I trace the length of his shaft with my finger and he moans, his hips undulating at my touch. With my other hand, I gently trace circles on his ball sac, and the sound he makes is guttural. Reluctantly, I realise I have to stop or this party'll be over before it's had a chance to really begin. Sitting in front him, I lean in real close until our noses are almost touching. I want to leave him with no doubts as to what I really want here. The fine hair on both our faces almost meets. I look deeply into his eyes and issue the command. "Fuck me, Mulder." His pupils dilate to an alarming degree, he claims my mouth with his, and lands me square on my back, all in one fluid movement. I mewl in amazement at the feel of his fingers as he guages how ready I am for him. 'So ready, Mulder. So damn ready....' "Oh God, Scully... that's fucking amazing, how wet you are..." "All for you, Mulder. And because of you." His eyes close as he slides into me. Home. It hurts a little, but it's delicious. As he builds up a rhythm, my name becomes Mulder's mantra. "Scullee.. Sculleee.. Sculleeee......." I don't expect it, but for the first time ever, my orgasm is building too. A thought floats around my head: 'never been this way..' I arch my back and meet him halfway. Something is still sucking all the air out of the room. "Scully-!" "Muld-" And suddenly, the world is gone, broken into shards of white light. I feel as though I'm split in two, then into a million pieces. Moments later, I float... right back into Mulder's arms. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I come to against something soft and warm. Ah. Scully's left breast. Feeling her move, I lift my head. It's about all I *can* lift, right now. "Mulder..." she whispers, as my eyes meet hers. "I know," I answer. I know what she means. We both knew it would be fantastic, but I think we're both stunned as to just *how* fantastic. No, we weren't prepared for that. I feel joyful, almost playful. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "Something I want you to know." "Mm?" "I'm not cold anymore." xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx I look deeply into his eyes. So, he's not cold anymore, huh? Should I be angry at this? Peeved? For once, I let my natural reactions take over. I burst into laughter. So does he. The bed rocks again tonight, this time with laughter. Somehow, he moves enough to kiss me, deeply; then resumes his former position. "Mulder?" "Mm?" "What about back in D.C.? What happens then?" "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he mumbles against my left nipple. His voice sounds sleepy. "Yeah, maybe. I just wondered if... Mulder? Mulder?" No response. Craning my neck, I look down and see him, asleep, against my breast. He looks peaceful, sated... happy. I'm happy 'cos I'm partly responsible for that face. Stroking his hair I settle down to sleep myself. Elvis has left the building. The End.