BonnieGayle

e-mail: [email protected]

web site: http://members.tripod.com/xtrordinaryxfiles/index.html

Tight: 1/1

Rating: R/NC-17

Classification: Vignette, UST, Smut, (is it Mulder POV if it's in third person?)

Summary: Mulder gets a surprising phone call as he lays in bed one night.

Spoilers: Nada

Mulder stepped out of the shower, toweled off, pulled on a pair of boxers and nothing else, and then went directly to bed. As he flopped back onto the bed, he realized that his hair was still damp, but he didn’t really care. It had been a long, hot, dirty, day. The only good part was that the case was over. It was his least favorite kind: lots of dead bodies, *young* dead bodies, but no X-File. Just a psychopath to profile, and get into his head, and the constant worry about whether he would get to Scully while Mulder was away, just like so many, *too many* psychopaths had before. That was why he stuck by her so much during these cases. His hands constantly searching her out: the small of her back, her cheek, just to reassure himself that she was safe.

Scully. He wondered what Scully was doing right now. He let his eyes sink shut as he pictured her curled up in her favorite chair, with a book and a hot steaming cup of tea, wearing a robe. He pictured her licking her lips, as she often did when they were together, unaware of how it affected him. Her brow was creased in interest, as she quickly flipped to the next page of the book, her breathing perhaps accelerated from the drama taking place on the pages.

Mulder let his eyes drift open, and was embarrassed to find that his body had responded to such a simple fantasy. She was fully clothed, and reading a book for Christ sake! The final sign in a long path to show him exactly how desperate he was. Pathetic.

With a groan, he rolled over onto his stomach. Despite the fact that a release would be welcome after the day that he had had, he was sick of jerking off to fantasies of Scully. He wanted the real thing, damn it. Too many long damn years of his own hands on his body. He wanted Scully’s hands and lips and…okay. This was not helping. He groaned again as he realized that instead of getting less, he had worked himself up to a full-blown humdinger of a hard-on. Now what?

Mulder jerked in surprise as the phone rang. It was after midnight, and heading toward one a.m. Of course, he answered.

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice sounded different somehow. He had never heard her sound like that before, and with a twitch, his dick let him know that it liked it.

“Ye-,” he had to clear the gravel out of his throat, “yes?”

There was a long pause, and he started to wonder whether he was desperate enough to have imagined her voice entirely. “Yes?” He asked again.

“I was just calling,” Breathy. Her voice sounded breathy, “because I was wondering what you were…up to.”

Mulder had to stifle a laugh. He could tell her what he was up to: about as long and hard as he got, from how damn sexy her voice sounded.

“Nothing much. I just got out of the shower, and I’m lying in bed.”

He was shocked when he could swear he heard Scully sigh. What was going on here? “What are you up to?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m lying in bed too.”

Okay. This was too damn good. He rolled over in bed, and had to stifle a moan as the sheets rubbed just the right way against his hardness.

“What are you wearing?” Wait? Did he just ask that? Scully was going to kill him.

“A robe.” Her voice was little more than a sigh. “It’s silk.”

Holy shit. That was too much. He carefully slipped his engorged dick out of the fly of his boxers.

“…and?” his voice sounded foreign to his ears. He was too far gone to keep the pure, unadulterated lust out of his voice.

He could swear he heard her moan. When she spoke, her voice was higher pitched and rushed. “And…the robe. That’s all Mulder.”

Words escaped him. His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he rubbed fluid down from the tip, down his hardness, and then back up again. He could practically believe it was Scully’s hand doing it, with her sighs in his ear, and that almost made him come in one stroke. She couldn’t miss the rattling sigh that was ripped from his chest.

“What are you wearing, Mulder?” Mulder’s eyes flew open, and his hand unintentionally tightened around his dick, which made his hips buck from the bed, and stars appear before his eyes. She…just…fucking…asked…that?

“Boxers, Scully.” He ground out. “Nothing else.”

He could hear the air that puffed against the mouth piece on Scully’s end. All the air must have left her lungs at once. “Well,” her voice was seriously unsteady, “that answers the whole boxers, briefs conundrum.”

Mulder couldn’t help his smile, as his hand began stroking again. Was it *really* a conundrum? Well, in the name of full disclosure: “Actually, Scully, they’re also like briefs. They’re…tight.”

Scully’s moan was unequivocal. He would give all the money in the bank, plus everything on his credit card, just to see what the hell Scully was doing in her apartment right now. “They’re tight?” she echoed roughly.

Mulder’s eyebrows rose. She wanted it. Scully wanted it, bad. And wouldn’t you know it, he was feeling generous. To both of them.

“Yes, Scully.”

*stroke*

“They’re tight all over.”

*stroke*

“My hips.”

*stroke, and a moan from Scully*

“My thighs.”

*stroke, and now Scully was audibly panting*

“My ass.”

His hand movements were getting jerky as he neared the inevitable end, and he could hear the gasps and moans that Scully was no longer holding back.

“Yes,” Scully moaned. “Yes, Mulder, yes.”

He had little doubt in his mind by now that he could take her over the edge with him. But how? His fogged brain searched the options, and one stood out to him, but…well, there was full disclosure, and then there was *full* disclosure. Another night, another time, he wouldn’t have risked it, but right now, it seemed the proper thing to say.

“But not as tight as you would be, Scully.”

“Mul…” was all she got out, before she shrieked her release into the phone.

That was more than enough for him, so, with one more jerk of his hand, he was lost to the world. To find where Scully had gone to, and join her there.

***

Mulder came back to himself slowly, and when he did, he realized the phone was no longer in his hand. He quickly conducted a panicked search, and discovered the phone where his nerveless fingers must have dropped it over the edge of the bed.

“Scully?” He asked urgently into the phone.

“Mmm…Mulder.” Scully sounded happy, and relaxed, and sleepy. Mulder needed more from her than that, though.

“Scully?” he asked again, pleadingly. Needing to know what she would say.

Scully sighed, as if she was reluctant to rouse herself enough to form sentences. “Mulder, I’m tired. I should go. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Scully?” Shock made his voice squeaky this time. He felt like his brain could no longer grasp what was happening.

Scully gave a low, throaty laugh, “sweet dreams, Mulder,” she purred. And then, with a click, she was gone.

Mulder sat with his mouth hanging open, the phone still pressed against his ear, nothing to hear but the dial tone. Finally, he shook himself enough to hang up, and set the phone back into its cradle. His mind fervently roved over the phone call they had just had.

“See you at work?” He asked himself incredulously. “Sweet *dreams*?” No matter how many different angles he looked at it from, he always came back to one conclusion: Scully was a vixen. She had called *him*. She had *already* sounded aroused when he answered….wait a minute, why was he complaining? Scully. *The* Scully had called to have phone sex with him. A slow, dopey grin spread over his face as he considered the ramifications of that. They were all good. Man, were they good.

“See you tomorrow, indeed, Scully,” he murmured aloud, his mind already going over the ways he could up the ante. This was going to be *fun*.

*Random and rambling end note* Hmph. I just rewatched Hollywood AD and was curious if there really *was* a Micah Hoffman, since my cat's name is Micah...yeah. So I googled, and I found this website that's actually really cool and has all the in-jokes, and random stuff, like how many times Mulder's porn is referenced, and Scully says she's fine (the 2 examples most likely are not related to each other) and the show title in other languages (Files in the Dark in Israel, and The Secret Folders of Mysterious Cases in Thailand) and there I found this under Mulder's come-on lines: War of the Coprophages - "Scully... what are you wearing?" - on the phone , after Scully's diatribe on the probability of alien intelligent life. So....in other words, she probably wouldn't "fucking kill him" for asking a *second time*, but, oh well. If Scully can be pregnant for 12 months, and have gotten her cross both for her birthday and for christmas, (oh yeah. I discovered that on the same webpage) I figure my blunder is pretty minor. Anyway, if you're curious, Micah Hoffman was apparently named for Mark Hoffman who was a naughty forging mormon who was injured when his own bomb exploded, according to the same website, which would make sense, but I was thinking he was supposed to be Abbie Hoffman, an activist (who was knocked off the stage at Woodstock by Pete Townshend-from The Who-according to wikipedia). You know what, I think I'm right. Wikipedia says that Abbie Hoffman was a co-founder of the Yippies, and I distinctly remember Mulder saying that about Micah Hoffman. Now I'm curious. Frustrating. Anyway, the website is: http://www.lunacynet.com/xfiles/ *whoa Borat is going to play Abbie Hoffman in an upcoming Steven Spielberg movie. Weird*