This is my very silly, probably hugely OOC and fairly NSFW response to this weeks challenge set by @txf-prompt-box
Must be included - “What are you holding behind your back?”
Bonus - It’s not Mulder or Scully saying it.
Double bonus - The thing behind the back is…trouble! Tagging @today-in-fic
I have never really considered myself the kind of person who readily shows any kind of extreme emotion on my face, and just for a moment I am transported back to a distant Dallas rooftop where the sun threatened to bake us both alive and where my partner and I enjoyed a few moments of playful banter before our world imploded and everything went to hell.
My panic face.
The one I told Scully didn’t exist.
The one I am pretty fucking sure I am making right now as I stand and stare at my boss who is frowning at me from his position not two feet away from where a wet spot is darkening the hue of the carpet slightly; evidence of some office-based fun that, while a nice way to break up the monotony of a boring day, could, if he notices, send Scully and I straight out the door and into a state of FBI infamy even more pronounced than where we already are.
Because fucking your partner on your office floor during the working day is frowned upon believe it or not; and why we swore we would never indulge in such a ridiculously dangerous pursuit when our relationship went from friend to lover in the blink of an eye and which has continued to gather pace like an out of control steamroller. We agreed that lines should be drawn right from the start to retain at least some semblance of professional etiquette and for the most part we have managed to stay within those lines.
But we are only human and while it would be easy to blame Scully for wearing one of those low-cut stretchy tops that when she bends down practically expose her nipples for the world to see or the fact that the heat of the DC summer had encouraged the wearing of those lace-topped stockings that seem to somehow hold themselves up with no apparent help or even that she whispered that she might just wear them for me later if I was a good fibbie and finished the stack of expense reports that had kept us imprisoned in the basement on this glorious day, but truthfully, we didn’t really need any other reason than we simply wanted each other; and that we couldn’t wait.
And I have to admit that the sight of Scully, head thrown back as her glorious ass sent expense reports flying in all directions when she hoisted herself onto the desk, severe pencil straight skirt rucked up to expose demure white cotton panties with just a hint of lace that were already damp with the evidence of her desire, made any semblance of rational thought just bleed right from my brain as my dick took complete control of the situation at hand.
I had dropped to my knees, hooking my arms beneath her smooth white thighs and I’m pretty sure I was growling like a dog in possession of his favourite toy as I drew her toward me and discarded her delicate undergarment with a well practised flick of my wrist before diving straight in with all the enthusiasm of a starving man suddenly plonked down in front of an ‘all you can eat’ buffet and handed a spoon.
I love eating Scully out because not only does she taste like fucking ambrosia, but also because it’s one of the only times I ever see her fully lose control of that rational, scientific mind of hers as she emits the kinds of noises from that sweet mouth that for years I fantasised about without any real hope of ever discovering firsthand how vocal she may or may not be; but be assured that the reality exceeds the fantasy in every way imaginable and slipping my fingers inside the soft, wet warmth of her while strafing her clit with my tongue is a bit like a homecoming each time and if I live to be a hundred years old I will never tire of how it makes me feel.
Now, I didn’t intend for this whole thing to be a reciprocal arrangement because frankly, when I felt her inner walls contract around my fingers as she tensed and shuddered her way through - if I do say so myself- a skillfully induced work day orgasm, I was well pleased with myself and pretty tickled that she had been the one to instigate the whole thing despite her long list of ‘do’s and don’ts in the office with your erstwhile platonic-but-not-platonic-anymore partner’ But it seemed like the post-orgasmic Scully that literally dragged me to the floor while furiously scrabbling to free my cock from the confines of the expensive dress pants that were tenting to such an extent that I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a whole troupe of boy-scouts singing ‘ging gang goolie’ while toasting marshmallows around a campfire, was in the grip of an endorphin rush of x-filean levels and she had no intention of taking no for an answer.
I obliged of course, I mean it would hardly be gentlemanly of me to refuse now would it?
And so I experienced, for the first time the combined agony and ecstasy as my partner grinned at me wickedly over her shoulder as she pushed that delectable little ass in the air in implicit invitation, and the feel of that cheap nylon carpet that stripped the skin off my knees with every thrust. I wasn’t about to complain though - I mean, what’s a little pain between friends right?
I didn’t last long, certainly not my finest performance at any rate, but Scully didn’t seem to mind as she met me thrust for thrust as the sound of my balls slapping against her filled the space around us and she seemed to pull me deeper and deeper with every stroke until my mind literally went blank and white heat sent me spiralling in a vortex of pleasure that literally had me bellowing her name as I exploded into her.
Thank fuck our office is in the basement is all I can say because I think the level of my vocal release could have roused J Edgar himself from his eternal slumbers.
And really, that should have been that. The shit-eating grin on my face as I watched Scully rise gracefully to her feet, adjusting her skirt and running her fingers through her hair as she exited the office - I’m guessing to clean up some - should have been the only evidence of our daytime indiscretion.
Until that is, I looked up from where I had stooped to retrieve her panties from where they still lay on the floor from earlier and, in a truly bowel-loosening moment of horrified clarity, I realised Skinner had entered the office without knocking.
In front of me.
While I am holding my partners dampened panties in my hand.
I mean this is my fucking boss - and he isn’t known for his sense of humour.
So I do the only thing that makes sense, I thrust my hands behind my back like a naughty kid caught next to an empty cookie jar, feeling that panic face I mentioned earlier overtake me as I force myself to keep breathing.
“What are you holding behind your back?”
Think Mulder….say something for fucksake…anything….
Skinner takes a step toward me, his shoe now covering that spot on the carpet that I probably should have blotted out straight away.
My mouth is completely dry, I mean I have faced assassins and managed to retain more saliva than I have right now and I actually feel kind of like I need to puke right there on his shiny Assistant Director shoes.
“Are you feeling alright Mulder?”
And there it is - inspiration finally fights it’s way up through the hysterical fog that has invaded my brain - as I bring the hand holding that scrap of white cotton upto my nose and with a fake sneeze that is frankly worthy of a fucking emmy award, I vigorously rub them against my nose before balling them up and shoving them in my pocket.
“Hayfever” I supply helpfully, somewhat more in control than I was thirty seconds ago, “Pollen count is really high today.”
Skinner’s eyes drop to my pants pocket, brow furrowed as though he isn’t quite sure what he just saw.
“Lace edged Mulder?”
“It’s Scully’s she….um…she leant it to me.”
He still stands there and for the first time I notice the file he is holding in his hand.
“Did you need us for something sir?”
He inclines his head slightly and I swear to God he is sniffing the air and then he suddenly steps away from the desk, waving the file before tossing it toward me at chest level and somehow, I manage to not fumble it.
“I need you to take a look at this and let me know if it’s of interest. I expect an answer within the hour.”
He turns to go, pausing just as he reaches the open door but not looking around, his final words ringing in my ears even as he walks away.
“And Mulder? Make sure Agent Scully is once more in full possession of that handkerchief BEFORE you leave this office. Do I make myself clear?”