Title: NEW: Process of Elimination: Desk Jockey
Rating: NC-17 Here we go again, kids.
Category: S, V, Mulder POV
Spoilers: This is part of the Process of Elimination universe by myself and Xochiluvr. If you haven't read the stories from the beginning, you should. They can all be found at the cute house XL built for our curiously strong little series - www.surfacing.com/xl/poe/
Summary: Mulder shows Scully a thing or two about being adventurous.
Keywords: MSR, smut, vignette, smut, series, you get the idea
Archive: Naturally it will reside at our house, but anyone else who wants it may filch at will. Just try to keep our babies together and in the correct order so they don't get confused and lonely. I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral myself, thanks.
Disclaimer: Sheee yeah, right! Not even in my dreams.
Author's Notes: This is for all the readers who howled at the other stories. You never should have encouraged me.
Thanks: To the L&F Board gang of dozens. Y'all have ruined me for anybody else.
And to Cindy and XL, my gang of two. Beta never hurt so good before. Thanks.
Dedication: I think I really need to dedicate this fic to Donnilee, who poked and prodded and pounded the table in her efforts to make me finish. She's been a real pain in the ass about it, in the nicest possible way. This is for you, dear heart. Just remember, turn-about is fair play.
Feedback: Is printed out, fawned over, and stroked to tatters at email@example.com.
Visit all my fics at www.surfacing.com/mimic117/ Your depravity levels may vary.
Process of Elimination: Desk Jockey
J. Edgar Hoover Building
"Scully, what the hell is going on?"
I guess just tossing that out into the quiet of the office wasn't the most subtle way to get her attention. But get it I do. Scully's head jerks up from her laptop so fast I wince. I'm not even sure where the question came from, except that I've been thinking about nothing but our recent sexual exploits for several days. Thinking and wondering and trying to connect the dots that have led us here. From point A to point B to out of my mouth before I could stop it.
She's giving me a look that's supposed to mean she doesn't know what I'm talking about, but I'm not buying it. All of this started with the list in her nightstand drawer that she hopefully still doesn't know I found. By this point, we've tried almost everything on it and I've noticed something -- there's a definite pattern of escalation on the kink-o-meter. From new positions to breath mints to unusual locations to titty-fuck tattoos, the sex is getting wilder every time. I just don't know why. Not that I'm complaining, of course. She keeps me guessing, which isn't a bad thing. It's just that I don't know if I can keep up. I've actually found myself using some of the items I remember from the list because I know she's interested in those things. I haven't checked it in a while, though. I'm afraid she may have added farm animals and threesomes with college guys to try in the future.
Am I not enough for her? Is normal, in-the-bed, riding-on-top sex too tame? I can do doggie-style, too, Scully. You just have to ask. I never would have pegged her as anything other than a vanilla-sex kind of person. And there's nothing wrong with that. Kinky can be fun sometimes. It's the constant never-knowing-what's-next that's making me crazy. I really need to find out what page we're on these days. Judging from the Little Miss Innocent stare I'm getting, I'll have to come right out and ask.
"You know what I mean, Scully." I sigh as one of her eyebrows raises. She's going to make me spell it out, just like one of my out-there theories. Want a slide show, too, partner? "What's with all the weird sex?"
The other eyebrow joins the first and her eyes get as big as silver dollars.
"Weird, Mulder? Haven't you been enjoying yourself?"
The indignation in her voice isn't faked like the earlier innocent look. She really doesn't seem to understand what I'm complaining about. I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I do need to know what's going on.
"Okay, maybe not weird, but you have to admit that we've been doing some pretty unusual stuff lately. I'm just trying to understand why. That's all."
Great. Now the indignation is showing on her face, too. Was there any better way to approach this discussion or did I never have a chance?
"I apologize if you haven't been having a good time," she huffs at me. "Most guys seem to enjoy a bit of sexual variety. They like to be adventurous. Considering the kinds of videos you watch, I didn't think you'd mind a little spice in your life. I guess I was wrong, huh?"
What the fuck? "Most guys"? How does she know what "most guys" like? Now I'm mad as well as confused.
I get up from my desk, kicking the rolling chair to one side as I stand. It takes two steps to cross the space between us before I'm looming over her. I put my hands on the back of her desk chair and push. She glides toward my desk until the chair bumps into it and stops. I think she's just realized I'm a tad upset. There's a scared, tentative look in her eyes that I haven't seen very often. Good.
"'Most guys', Scully? Since when am I 'most guys'? Do 'most guys' chase aliens and monsters and government conspirators? Do 'most guys' replace shoes and pants that have been eaten through by toxic green blood? Do 'most guys' check their house, car and office for listening devices on a regular basis? I've never heard you complain before because I'm not like 'most guys' -- especially when I've got my dick between your legs."
I'm being crude, but I don't care. I've got such a good mad going, I don't even let her answer me. When she opens her mouth, I walk over and cover it with my hand. Her eyes get even bigger and she takes a deep breath through her nose. I think she's more scared than she was before. That makes two of us. But I'm not stopping now. I don't think I can. If she wants adventurous, that's what she's going to get.
I take my hand off her mouth and haul her up out of the chair by her arms. She's stopped trying to say anything, which is fine with me. I can't talk and kiss at the same time. Our lips crush together and she leans into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I can't help moaning. She always tastes so good. Everywhere. Which gives me an idea.
I reach around and cup her ass while our tongues wrestle for dominance. I don't think she realizes what I'm doing as I gather her skirt in my hands, the material creeping higher and higher as I bunch it together. It probably just feels like I'm caressing her ass. Until I reach the hem and burrow underneath to grab a couple handfuls. Instead of silky panties, my fingers latch onto smooth, naked skin.
We break the kiss due to mutual shock. Scully gulps in air as she pants against my mouth while I let my hands explore this saucy territory I've found. One hand wanders downward until it encounters a wide elastic band around her thigh and the other meanders further and further up until I finally feel a tiny triangle of fabric that disappears into the crack of her ass.
Jesus! Scully's wearing thigh-high stockings and a thong!
Her dark, conservative, just-below-the-knee power skirt has been hiding this wanton display all day. How often has she dressed for work like this? Did she have plans for today or is this a regular outfit for her? I'm amazed that I don't know the answers to those questions. I thought I knew everything about Scully... until recently. Now I'm finding out that I know almost nothing. At least when it comes to her sex life. She wants to spice things up? Fine. Let's see what I can do.
I shove her down into the chair with the skirt bunched around her hips and then drop to my knees in front of her. Grabbing her legs, I pull until she's slouched down in the seat with her ass hanging half off the edge and her thighs spread wide.
"I wonder if 'most guys' would do this, Scully," I growl at her astonished expression.
Reaching between her legs, I pull the narrow string of her underwear to one side and bury my face in her curls. If I wasn't holding down her thighs, I think she'd be levitating right now.
God, I love doing this. I've never taken a poll of "most guys" to find out how many enjoy performing oral sex, but how could you not like it? The smell of her is intoxicating. The sounds she's making are enough to drive me mad. I run my tongue through her glistening folds and savor the taste of having Scully in my power. She writhes in the chair, making it difficult to catch her clit with my lips, but I love the thrill of the chase. When I gently push one finger deep into her swollen cleft, she groans and wiggles her ass, trying to take me farther inside.
This is unbelievable. I'm finger fucking Scully in our office. In the basement of the God-damned Hoover building. And I've got a boner the size of the Washington Monument straining against the zipper of my pants. This is turning me on, big time. We've had oral sex before, but never outside of our apartments. If this is being sexually adventurous, just call me Indiana Fucking Jones.
Scully twists and turns, attempting to produce friction where she needs it, but I'm not in a generous mood right now. I could stay here all afternoon, driving her to the ragged edge of sanity and back again. As I'm inserting a second finger inside her, I hear the chime of the elevator in the hall. I look up and meet Scully's eyes. Someone's just arrived in the basement, and since there's no one down here but the FBI's most unwanted, they must be coming to see us. That's my cue to get off the floor and let her roll back to her desk. But instead, I grab her chair with the hand that's not still encased inside her and pull it toward the desk. I scoot backward into the knee hole and pull the chair in after me. It's a tight fit, but I manage to cram myself in there with room for most of the chair. The small space is instantly filled with the smell of her sex.
She wanted adventurous? I think this qualifies.
I can hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall, straight toward our door. Scully's pulling on my shoulders and hissing words I can't really hear, trying to get me out from under the desk. I'm not budging. The desk is turned so the knee hole isn't facing the door and it's enclosed on the outer side. Unless my shoes are sticking out from under the edge, no one can see me. The side of the desk will hide Scully's semidressed state from any casual visitor, too. They'd have to come into the room and prowl around before they'd be able to notice anything out of the ordinary. Even the smell of sex is confined under the desk with me. So I'm not going anywhere. I let her know that by crooking the fingers that are still inside her and fluttering them slightly. She goes rigid and scoots as high in the chair as she can with me embedded between her lips. She's pretty much sitting on my hand now. I like it.
The footsteps stop and a knock sounds on the door frame. I know it's not on the door -- it wasn't closed. Scully must have been pretending to read something because I can feel her turn toward the door.
"AD Skinner. Can I help you?"
She's good. There isn't even a tiny tremor in her voice, in spite of the fact that I've started to wiggle my fingers around. Her foot moves to kick me, but the space is so cramped, she just ends up grinding her shin into my hard-on. Wow. I like that, too. It's exactly what I needed. I thank her by dry humping her leg while a muffled conversation goes on above my hiding place.
"Have you seen Agent Mulder?" Skinner asks. I find that I'm relieved when I realize that he's still over by the door. This is exciting, but I really hadn't planned on flushing my career down the crapper today.
"Yes, Sir," Scully answers. "He just left a few minutes ago to copy some papers for that report you wanted. I can have him bring it to you as soon as he gets back."
"I'm headed out for a late lunch right now and thought I might be able to save him a trip," he replies. "Trust Mulder to disappear at just the wrong moment."
Scully chuffs a little laugh that sounds a bit desperate to me. Hope Skinner doesn't notice.
"Yes, you can certainly trust Mulder to do the unexpected, Sir."
That catty remark just earned you a little retaliation, my dear Scully. I hadn't been moving my hand since Skinner started talking, but now I press my thumb into her clit and rub it in circles. Her inner walls spasm, then my hand is drenched by her juices. The smell of it saturates my cramped compartment. I can't stop myself from dragging in a deep lungful of perfumed air. Mmmm, there's nothing to breathe but pure Scully scent.
"Are the two of you planning to attend Agent Anderson's retirement party this weekend?" Skinner asks.
Not if I have anything to say about it. Scully shifts a bit, trying to get away from my questing digits. Skinner probably thinks she's just fidgety. If he only knew... She's sounding a little breathy when she answers him.
"I'm sure we'll be there if we aren't out of town on a case, Sir. Thirty-five years of dedication should definitely be recognized and celebrated."
No we won't, Scully. As I grind my thumb down on her clit again, she goes perfectly still. I'm feeling pretty smug until I hear what she already knows -- Skinner's walking toward the desk.
Holy shit! This is not good. Can he see her bare thighs? Hell, can he see my hand, caught under her legs with my thumb wedged in her curls? Dammit, what does he want now? Go away, Skinner!
Her shin presses into my groin again as he approaches her. I know she'd like nothing better than to kick my balls into my throat right now, but instead she's adding to the wonderful friction against my aching cock.
"Is that a new case, Agent Scully?"
He's standing next to the desk. I can see the toes of his shoes. I hope he can't see mine. I'd pull my feet in closer but there already isn't any spare room under here.
"It's a possibility, Sir. We haven't decided yet." Scully's voice comes out higher than normal. I really can't blame her, even if I am getting more turned on by the minute. It's exciting and scary at the same time. I'm not sure which one is winning yet.
In the silence above me, I can hear pages turning. Skinner must be reading the file. I honestly couldn't say what case it is, either. My brain is so foggy with the scent of our arousal that I can't remember what I was looking at before this whole thing started. God, I hope he can't smell us, too.
"Levitation, Agent Scully?"
Oh. It's that file.
"As I said, Sir, we haven't decided yet."
"There'd better be some solid evidence to back that one up before you bring it to me. Sounds like a magician gone psychotic."
"I'll tell Agent Mulder when he gets back." I'll bet there are a lot of things she'd like to tell me right now.
Okay, you've been dismissed, Skinner. Time to leave. Shoo!
"Um, are you feeling all right, Agent? You're looking a little flushed."
Oh for heaven's sake! Not now! He's gonna figure something out soon if he doesn't go the hell away.
"I'm fine, Sir," she replies in a firm, no-nonsense tone. I'll bet he believes that as much as I always have. "It's just been rather warm in here today. I need to ask maintenance to check the thermostat."
He seems to buy it because he doesn't say anything else. Sucker. It's quiet for another moment or so before I hear Skinner clear his throat.
"Well since he hasn't returned yet, just tell him to bring that report up to my office before the end of the day. I really need to get some lunch before it's supper time."
"Certainly, Sir. Have a good lunch."
Her clit is still pulsing under my thumb and my fingers are going to be wrinkled from the constant stream of moisture flowing over them. She's every bit as excited as I am. Spicy enough for you, Scully?
I can hear Skinner's footsteps retreating down the hall again, so I go in for the kill. Pushing the chair back just slightly so I can bend forward a little more, I lean down and clamp my mouth over her sex. The minute I hear the elevator doors close, I can feel her clit throb against my tongue. She leans back in the chair and gasps as her flesh quakes under my assault. She's coming so hard she can't even speak and the knowledge that I caused it makes me rub my steel-hard cock against her leg again. It feels so incredible to be humping her stocking-clad shin while her body trembles in pleasure. Suddenly, she pushes her leg firmly against my crotch and that's all she wrote. I'm coming in my pants and she's coming around my fingers and we're both moaning like we're mortally wounded and it just feels too damned good for words. If I ever get back the use of my brain cells, I'm gonna tell her, too.
We stay that way for a minute or so, me crouched under the desk, panting into her curls with my head on her thigh, and Scully draped bonelessly in her chair, twitching every so often.
Then all of a sudden, she's not boneless anymore. She jumps up from the chair so fast I nearly fall on my face. As I crawl out from under the desk, muscles screaming from their prolonged confinement, I'm all set to let her have it for not giving me some warning. One look at her expression and the words are gone from my brain.
She's pissed. I mean royally, thoroughly, drop-kick-me-intonext -week cheesed off. Now what?
"Mulder, what the HELL do you think you were doing?"
She really gets shrill when she's mad. Don't think I'll mention that, though. How can I put this so I don't make things worse?
"I thought you wanted adventurous, Scully. Isn't that the kind of thing 'most guys' would do?"
Okay, so maybe that wasn't it.
Ouch. Very shrill.
"Adventurous does not mean sitting at my desk talking to Skinner not six feet away while you eat me out! I'm surprised he couldn't smell the sex in the air or see your feet sticking out from under the desk! That was not adventurous, Mulder -- it was foolhardy. What the hell were you thinking?"
I open my mouth on an explanation but close it again after I catch the look in her eyes. This is a Scully who isn't interested in reasoned arguments. This Scully wants to castrate someone and I'm standing way too close for my own comfort.
She stomps to the coat rack and picks up her purse from the floor. Reaching under her skirt, she twitches the thong back into position, her expression daring me to make a remark. Any remark. I think she'd like nothing better right now than a good excuse to rip into me again. I keep my mouth shut as she grabs her briefcase then strides from the office. Long before the end of the workday, I might add. No way am I planning to point that out, though.
Where did I go wrong? I don't understand. She wanted adventurous. I gave her adventurous. She certainly seemed to be enjoying my tongue between her legs, although I have to admit that having Skinner walk in wasn't something I would have asked for. Yet that excited her. I could feel it. I thought she would enjoy being daring, pulling the wool over the boss' eyes. Is this some kind of "woman" thing that I'll never comprehend? They should issue a rulebook to every boy baby when he's born. "Things To Avoid If You Don't Want To Screw Up With Girls." Except they'd have to keep bringing out new editions every time the rules change and the damned thing would weigh a couple thousand pounds. I think this is one of those situations where I was fucked if I did and fucked if I didn't.
Either way, right now I think I'm just fucked.
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