I don’t know why I keep doing this to her, but I also needed to get out my frustrations with a man who just has been trying to creep in my mind. Hopefully it’s over now. Here you go @silhouetted-beauty love you sis <3
A/N: I got asked for context for a little bit of one of the dead fic excerpt I posted. This is the last spare parts fic I’m posting, I promise.
Scully arched her toes and her heel popped off. She let the shoe drop to the floor. “First off, I just want to congratulate everyone in this room on the exceptional service you have provided to our country. You truly exemplify the three pillars of our sacred motto: fidelity, bravery, integrity. You are the driving force…”
Between every movement she counted out the seconds, watching for any disruption in the rows of spiritless agents who scrawled out their notes and nodded their heads in remarkable synchrony. Many of them were second, third, or fourth year winners, and being good at their jobs meant suffering in every other respect. She could relate.
That was why she sometimes chose to be bad.
Her first move was to roll her ankle, then dig the ball of her foot into the carpet. Helena Mycroft announced the keynote speaker to limited applause. Scully wrote it down and shifted her hips, pulling herself closer to the table. Then, toes pointed, she started sliding her foot across the carpet – very lightly to avoid making any noise.
When she lifted her leg and made contact, he positively jumped. She had to stifle a laugh when his chin shot up from his chest and his sleepy eyes woke up and darted from left to right. He hadn’t been paying a lick of attention. Her teasing dragged him out of something deep, and it took him much too long to pinpoint the culprit, and when he did, he gave a rough jerk of his head.
“STOP. IT.” He mouthed through a snarl, dislodging her with a jiggle of his knee. She arched an eyebrow and slowly retreated, a smug tightness to the set of her lips. Looking at the projector, then back at Mulder, then back at the projector, she did not bother to put her shoe back on, and she awaited the inevitable.
It came in the form of him kicking her in the ankle.
What the hell was that for? demanded her searing glance, but Mulder had gone back to doodling in his legal pad. The only tick that gave him away was a flat, dopey grin, hidden part way into his fist.
That gave her all the permission she needed.
The presenter’s words registered in her ear without registering in her mind. She wrote them down as a hundred different conversations. Announced by location… that… every year we… catering is done by… as she pressed her toes to the front of his calf, trailing them upward. She lifted his pant leg away from his ankle, glanced up at him to gauge his reaction, and caught him staring her down. Unashamed of his own distractedness, he watched her intently with the knowledge it made her uncomfortable. If someone were to watch him, it would be so obvious. They would only have to look under the table…
She dislodged herself from the fabric. Unrestricted, she let her foot move further up his calf until she was right under his knee. Any further up, she would have to shift in her seat to give herself leverage to lift her leg. Her neck against the top of her chair, the gap between her lower body and the back of it. Mulder’s eyes betrayed his glee: she would have to give up.
“Alright, agents, we’ll reconvene in five minutes!” The room filled with the orchestra of the criminally bored – every chair emptied and the mild, hushed conversation arose in huddled pockets.
Scully gathered her things and traded seats with the sleepy older agent who had been situated to Mulder’s left. His new seat put his back to the speaker, and he was dozing off in no time. Scully settled in.
“Hello, Mulder,” she said, with such joy it caught the attention of their neighbors. No one in the Bureau quite knew what to make of their happiness whenever it was expressed; they supposed it impossible. Mulder flipped through a stack of papers that had been handed out at the beginning of the session and did not meet her eyes.
“People might think you’re clingy,” he warned, grabbing a pencil to erase at several different nothings.
She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her body angled away to avoid suspicion. “But Mulder,” she breathed, taking pleasure in how he pulled away from her. “I am clingy.”
He abruptly wrenched his body around to pull her to him, arm slung around her shoulder in a poor imitation of buddy-buddy behavior. “You dirty, dirty girl,” he laughed through gritted teeth, squeezing her tighter with each syllable. “Just wait until we get in that office, Scully. I’m gonna–”
Cut off by Deputy Director Kersh standing up to call the room back to attention, Mulder lifted his arm away and Scully straightened in her seat. Helena Mycroft resumed with her PowerPoint when her audience finished uncapping their pens and pulling in their chairs.
“After our keynote has finished and we’ve all stood for a hearty round of applause. We’re jumping straight into…”
Mulder knocked his knee against the table and swore. Their entire table turned to stare at them.
“You okay, Mulder?” she whispered, squeezing his cock firmly. She tilted her head in mock concern as she palmed him heavy through his slacks.
“Papercut,” he nearly yelled, slamming his fist down. “Getting shot hurts less. What’s the deal with that?”
Scully kicked him and he shut up, slumping over in his chair. After a few deep breaths, he calmed down, picked up his pen, and started writing. Excusing the way he held himself — like he’d been strung up from bone through skin — it was all very passable, her nails skimming his flesh with the lightness of a feather, her thumb finding and caressing the delicate tip.
Mulder was a fine actor whenever he felt it necessary. The more composed he looked often served as a reliable indicator for just how hard he was going to lose it, on a case or in her bed. With that new-found perfect posture and his unrivaled focus, he took real notes on what was being said, and even managed to answer a few questions. God, that made her wet. Toying with his mind – and with was paramount, for she was never cruel without the hope of reciprocation – gently coaxing it to come out and play with hers, laying trap after trap of all that might tempt him into her subcelestial games: that was as much fun as the rest of it. From cunt to consciousness she had him captivated.
Even so, it was Scully who found it difficult to maintain composure. She couldn’t stop licking her lips. Squeezing her thighs together was a miserable tease, and her mind raced with fantasies so ribald as to be rendered totally impractical, yet she could not think back on a time she had ever been more turned on. Ducking down under the table to deepthroat him until he howled his release like the crazed animal they all labeled him as. Stripping off her clothes – restrictive and intolerable as they’d become – and climbing up on the table to get fucked by him.
His large hand squeezed around her wrist, hard. She stopped. The only thing she heard was her own panting, echoing noisily in her head. She closed her eyes.
“That about covers it all, Agents.” The sounds of closing folders and crumpled up paper, of people getting out of their chairs and leaving the room. The projector clicked off; rookies stayed back to ask questions, A.D.’s stayed back to make lunch plans.