TITLE: The Devil in Disguise
AUTHOR: Polly - firstname.lastname@example.org
CLASSIFICATION: MSR, Smut, Mulder POV, "Terms of Endearment" post episode
SPOILERS: "Terms of Endearment"; small ones for "The Pilot," "Tooms," "Triangle," "Monday," "Arcadia"
DISCLAIMER: "The X-Files" and its characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and FOX. No copyright infringement is intended
NOTES: Written for the Fandomonium Season 6 Smut Challenge
ARCHIVE: Just let me know
FEEDBACK: Always welcome and greatly appreciated
SUMMARY: Better the devil you know
* * *  * * * * *
One of the first things I learned about Dana Scully was that she's a nervous flier. She's not afraid of flying -- just nervous.
I made this discovery on our first case together. Our seats weren't side-by-side on that flight to Oregon; I made sure of that. The Bureau could force me to take on a new partner, but they couldn't force me to make small talk with her all the way across the country.
But I still needed to keep an eye on her, so I booked a seat across the aisle and just forward. I pretended to doze or listen to music while I really watched her reflection in the shiny chrome panel located between the window and the overhead storage compartment in the row just ahead of mine.
I could tell she was a nervous flier right off the bat; she fastened her seat belt like she was lashing herself to the deck of the Titanic. During takeoff she kept her eyes closed, took deep breaths, and balled her hands into tiny fists in her lap.
Once we were in the air she tried to distract herself by studying the case file, but that did little to calm her nerves. She twirled her hair around her finger, played with her glasses, and flinched every time the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. Her fingers dug into the armrest at the slightest hint of turbulence.
But her nerves were evident only in the air. On terra firma she proved fearless, a couple of mosquito bites notwithstanding. She impressed me with her cool head and her analytical mind, and by the time we were ready to return from Oregon, I wasn't quite as eager to get rid of her as when we first met.
So I sat next to her on the plane ride home; and when we ran into a bad storm over Denver, she clutched my sleeve instead of the armrest. I took her hand and held it between us, where no one could see, and I stroked the back of her wrist with my thumb while I mesmerized her with a boring story about my first week at the Academy.
Eventually she relaxed, her pulse rate slowed, and soon she nodded off with her head on my shoulder. She woke once, apologized for using me as a pillow, and went right back to sleep. And she never let go of my hand.
We've been on hundreds of planes together since then, and the ritual is always the same. By the time we land, Scully is calm, refreshed, and putty in my hands. Even if she's perturbed at me about something, it's forgotten by the time the wheels touch down on the runway.
My kingdom for a 747.
If only Wayne Weinseider had set up shop in California or Kalamazoo, for that matter, Scully and I would be flying home right now, not stuck in a rented Ford Taurus driving back to D.C. from Hollins, Virginia. If Wayne had the decency to spread his demon seed somewhere near the left coast, I'd be working my magic on her frazzled nerves about now, and saving my ass in the process.
Instead, I've endured 200 plus miles of near silence. She's furious because I ran off without telling her; and Scully ranks "ditching" right up there with cheating on your taxes and lying to your mother. I'd feel better if she would just go ahead and yell at me; but I don't think making me feel better is on her agenda.
Which is a pity, because lately we've excelled at making each other feel fantastic. It's only been a couple of months since our relationship turned physical, but we're making up for lost time. When we aren't working, and sometimes even when we are, we can't keep our hands off each other.
I guess we denied ourselves for so long that once we discovered the pleasures of each other's flesh, we couldn't get enough. It's been three days since we did the horizontal mambo -- the longest we've gone cold turkey since embarking on this new phase of our complicated relationship -- and I think Scully will be as eager for our bodies to get reacquainted as I am. That's my only hope for a stay of execution.
The fact that we're having a "relationship" at all still amazes me, especially after she brushed off my drug induced declaration of love in Bermuda with a decidedly disinterested, "Oh, brother." But when she picked me up from the hospital the next day, she drove to a motel instead of the airport and we proceeded to get to know each other in intimate detail.
At some point when we came up for air and nourishment, Scully called Kersh and explained that our return to D.C. would be delayed due to complications in my recovery, and he shouldn't expect us back in the bullpen until Monday. I thought that was a big mistake.
"You shouldn't have done that, Scully," I told her. "I don't care about myself, but you shouldn't have given Kersh an excuse to move you up on the hit list."
"We're in this together, Mulder," she replied. "And as I told you once before, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you."
I started to tell her there was a lot *more* on the line this time around, but her lips were around my cock and that hampered my ability to think clearly and form complete sentences.
Apparently our new boss wasn't completely immune to Scully's charms, because I was the only one summoned to Kersh's office bright and early Monday morning. "You look like hell," he barked unsympathetically as I stood in front of his mahogany desk.
*You try having sex for 72 straight hours and see how you look.* Okay, I didn't say it, but I really wanted to, just to wipe that sarcastic smirk off his face.
I snickered at the memory and was rewarded with a glare from the redhead behind the steering wheel. I shrugged and turned my attention back to the highway just in time to see a familiar sign go whizzing by.
"Hey, Scully, that was my ..."
The icy stare was even chillier, if that was possible.
"... exit." I sighed and closed my eyes. She was taking me to her place. Nothing to do now but sit back and prepare to take my punishment like a man.
* * * * * * * *
Ten minutes later Scully pushed open her apartment door and motioned me inside. I stood in the dark and formulated my strategy as she turned the deadbolt and fastened the chain. I figured the best defense would be a good offense, so I struggled for the right words. "Look, Scully ..."
I hit the door with a loud thud and before I could react, my jacket was pulled off my shoulders halfway down my back, effectively pinning my arms at each side. I tried to wriggle away, but a rough shove and a forearm across my chest held me in place. Something tugged on my tie, forcing me to bend forward.
"I don't know why you have to be so damn tall."
Scully's lips were suddenly devouring mine, her tongue darting in and out of my mouth, inviting me to return the favor. Her hands flew to my waist and within seconds my pants were sliding over my hips and down my legs. She put her left arm around me and snaked her right into my boxers, her fingers expertly kneading my shaft from root to tip and back again.
I whimpered when our lips lost contact, but moaned when her teeth grazed each nipple through my cotton shirt. The first time we made love Scully realized how sensitive those otherwise useless nubs were, and each time we were together she delighted in finding new ways to torment me -- biting, licking, scratching, tickling, pinching, and sucking were equally maddening. She teased that she'd like to pierce them, but was afraid it would leave me in a permanent state of arousal.
My current state of arousal was nearly at full attention, my boxers tenting under the strain, so Scully pulled them away and let them fall to the floor. She slid her palm along the underside of my cock, urging it upward, and brushed her finger against the tip, gathering the moisture that had collected there. She brought her finger to her lips and popped it in her mouth, drawing it out slowly as if she were savoring the sweetest honey ever collected from the hive.
"Oh, God!" I closed my eyes and my head lolled backward, hitting the wooden door hard.
"Careful, baby," Scully purred as she ran her fingers through my hair. "Explaining how you got a concussion to the emergency room doctors could be embarrassing for both of us."
In truth, the pain at the back of my head paled in comparison to the excruciatingly wonderful tightness building in my groin. Scully kissed my chin and flicked a nipple with her thumbnail and my cock pulsated in response, poking against her stomach as if trying to remind her of unfinished business.
Scully giggled, cupped my balls in her hand, and squeezed lightly, sending a jolt of electricity all the way to my toes. She tugged on my tie again, bringing my ear down close to her lips.
"Is this turning you on as much as I think it is, Mulder?" she whispered, her breath tickling my earlobe.
I nodded emphatically like a giddy schoolboy.
"Are you ready for me, baby?"
"God, yes!" I croaked. Any more ready, and I would spontaneously combust.
"Good," she replied, her voice deep and sexy. "Because I want you to remember this the next time you decide to ditch me."
Her hand hit the light switch on the wall and the room was illuminated in more ways than one. I blinked against the unexpected glare from the nearby lamp, and winced at the same menacing glare I'd faced in the car.
"Now you know how it feels to be left high and dry." She turned on her heel and made a beeline for the bedroom.
"Scully, wait." I took a step forward and nearly plunged headlong into the sofa, having forgotten about the slacks and underwear pooled around my ankles. I kicked away the offending material and slipped off my jacket, leaving everything in a pile on the living room floor.
When I got to the bedroom, Scully was standing by the dresser unbuttoning her silk blouse.
"That's not fair, Scully."
"Not fair?" She put her hands on her hips and I knew I'd made a critical error. I could feel my erection withering as she spoke. "I'll tell you what's not fair, Mulder. What's not fair is you leaving me to do background checks at the Department of Agriculture while you sneak off to chase an X-File."
"Scully, I ..."
"I thought we had a deal, Mulder." She continued to undress as she delivered her lecture, adding insult to injury. "I thought we agreed that we were in this together, that we'd tow the line and do whatever we were told, no matter how demeaning or insulting or insignificant, so that we could get the X-Files back. Would you like to explain to me why you chose to break our agreement and go running off to Virginia?"
"The devil made me do it?"
To say she was not amused would be an understatement. She rolled her eyes and stormed past me into the bathroom. I followed her to the door and watched as she scrubbed off her makeup.
"I'm serious, Mulder," she continued. "Do you want to get the X-Files back or don't you?"
"Then why jeopardize everything we've been working for by getting involved in this case?"
"I had to, Scully," I said. "Laura Weinsider's brother came to the FBI for help and he was ignored. If I hadn't gotten involved, his sister would probably be in jail right now or worse. I can't tell you how I knew it was important to check out this case, I just did."
"Then why didn't you tell me about it?" She hung the washcloth over the towel bar and pumped some lotion into her hand, smoothing it over her elbows. "I've learned to have faith in your hunches, Mulder. Why didn't you just tell me about the case instead of ditching me? Why did you leave me behind *again* to face the wrath of Kersh?"
"Sounds like a Star Trek movie when you say it."
Apparently not the appropriate time for humor. She snapped off the bathroom light and brushed past me, pausing by the foot of the bed to remove her bra and panties. As I admired her beautiful body, I couldn't help but wonder what I ever did to deserve her and why she continues to put up with me no matter how much shit I pull.
At least, I hoped she would continue to put up with me. I wasn't quite out of this one yet.
She moved in front of her dressing table to brush her hair, and I stood behind her as close as I could without touching her. She watched me in the mirror with a skeptical eye, waiting for an explanation.
"Scully, this case concerned the abduction and possible murder of a baby." I stepped just a bit closer, my chest almost touching her back. "You try to hide it, but I know how cases that involve children affect you. I didn't want to put you through that, so I didn't tell you where I was going or why."
She laid the brush on the dressing table and turned to face me, her breasts pressed against my shirt, her eyes soft and understanding. "Thank you, Mulder. That's very sweet." She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek, and I smiled my best aw-shucks kind of smile.
Then she poked a finger sharply into my chest. "Except that you called me in to consult on the case right after you got there, and you never once seemed too concerned about my feelings!"
"Ow," was the only response I could muster.
Scully shook her head and sidled past me. She plopped down on the bed and scooted to the center of the mattress, looking up at me in all her naked glory. "Well, come on," she said. "Time's a-wastin'."
"You mean you still want to ..." I pointed at the bed and raised an eyebrow.
"You bet your boots I do." She smiled and propped herself up on her elbows. "It's been three days, Mulder," she said. "I may be mad, but I'm not crazy. You didn't have to go all the way to Roanoke County if you were looking for a horny little devil. All you had to do was look in your own backyard."
"Ha, ha. Very funny."
I wasted no time unknotting my tie and shedding my shirt, just in case she changed her mind. Once I was down to bare skin, I dimmed the bedroom lights and knelt on the end of the bed. I took Scully's delicate left ankle in my hands and began to massage her foot.
Scully knew about my nipples and I knew about her feet; they were her most sensitive erogenous zone. I worked from heel to toe, following up each caress with a tender kiss; and when I was finished with her other foot, I kissed and licked my way toward my next destination.
"I would like to know, Mulder," she said as I trailed my lips up her calf and swirled my tongue behind her knee. "Why did you really go check out this case? Was it really a hunch?"
"I told you when I called you from Weinsider's," I explained between wet sloppy kisses to the inside of her thigh. "Spender round-filed this case without even taking a look. It's reprehensible."
"As I recall, there are two agents assigned to the X-Files," she said. "Why are you so sure it was Spender who rejected the case?"
I peeked up over the fragrant, neatly trimmed patch of wiry red curls where I had just settled in.
"Why are you so sure it was Diana?"
"I didn't say it was. I'm just asking the question. You say that Diana being assigned to the X-Files is a good thing, that she's protecting your interests, but I don't see her doing anything to help you."
I sighed as I left my comfortable little spot and stretched out beside her. "Do you really want to talk about Diana now?"
"Well, it seems to be the only time I have your undivided attention."
"I wouldn't say that," I replied. "I mean, right now my attention is divided between here ..." I plunged two fingers into her depths and she let out a high-pitched squeak. "... and here." She shivered as I suckled her left breast, twirling my tongue around the nipple, worrying it with my teeth.
"I just want to understand how you can put so much faith in her," Scully panted, determined to finish the conversation despite my best efforts to distract her.
I released her breast but left my fingers inside her, gently stroking and caressing. "I have faith in Diana because she was my partner once. I have faith in you because *you're* my partner now, my partner in every conceivable way."
"Was Diana your partner in every conceivable way too?"
I brushed my thumb against her clitoris and she chuckled as she bucked off the bed. "I'll take that as a 'no comment'."
"For the record," I said, "Laura Weinsider's brother told me he only talked to Spender, that Spender's partner was out of town when they met. And I believe that's true. I know you don't like Diana, Scully ..."
"Liking her has nothing to do with it."
"Okay," I said, "I know you don't trust her. Maybe I don't trust her completely myself. But I trust her enough, and I'm asking you to trust my judgment where she's concerned. Okay?"
She raised an eyebrow and pouted. I added another finger to my intimate exploration and kissed her eyes, her nose, the hollow of her throat, her breasts.
"Okay," Scully reluctantly agreed. "For now. Primarily because when you're doing what you're doing, I'm having a little trouble coming up with a logical argument."
I laughed. "If only I'd had that information six years ago."
"Think of all the fun you would have missed."
"Think of all the fun we could have had."
"Good point. Speaking of fun ..." She reached for my cock which had fully recovered from its earlier setback and guided it toward her entrance. "I believe I said time's a-wastin'."
"You *are* a horny little devil, aren't you?" I teased as I pushed into her. "Sneaky too. So if that's the way you want to play ..." I leaned forward feigning a kiss, and when she attempted to meet me halfway, I snatched the pillow from behind her head and pulled away from her.
"Hey, put that back!" she cried. "And I'm not just talking about the pillow."
I waved my finger in front of her nose. "Patience, my dear Scully. Good things come to those who wait." I motioned for her to lift her hips, and I positioned the pillow underneath, raising her just enough to provide easy access to the place I wanted to go. She looked skeptical when I raised her left foot to rest against my shoulder, but the skeptic became a believer as soon as I slid smoothly inside her. I knew from the look on her face that the sensation was as incredible for her as it was for me.
"Oh, God, Mulder. Oh, God!" Her eyes were round as saucers and her smile was as wide as I've ever seen. "Oh, Mulder, that is fantastic!"
"Told you," I replied with a wicked grin. I moved slowly and deliberately, pulling almost all the way out, then penetrating deeper with each new push.
"Now I know how you got the inside track on Wayne and Betsy so quickly," Scully said between thrusts. "It takes one to know one."
"You, Mulder." She wiped a bead of sweat from the end of my chin. "Those beautiful hazel eyes, that distinctive nose, that goofy lopsided grin -- all a facade. You're a demon, just like Wayne and Betsy. You're the devil in disguise."
I smiled. "You think my nose is distinctive? Really?"
She was too busy moaning to reply. She hooked her right leg around my hip and dug her heel into my ass, encouraging me to go deeper, signaling me to go faster. On our first night together in Bermuda, I learned that Scully was a pint-sized dynamo between the sheets. What she lacked in size and stature, she made up for in strength and stamina. It was a challenge just to keep up with her, but a challenge I wanted to face every day for the rest of my life.
I could feel her climax building, releasing, and mine came right behind. I pumped into her until I was completely spent and collapsed beside her in an exhausted but deliriously contented heap. We lay there motionless for a few minutes, both of us catching our breath, until I recovered enough to put my arms around her and spoon up behind her.
"I love you, Scully."
She placed her hands over mine and squeezed my fingers tightly. "You have beautiful fingers, Mulder," she said. "Long and elegant. That was one of the first things I noticed about you. Did I ever tell you that?"
"My mother always wanted me to take up the piano," I replied. "She thought I could have been very talented."
"Your fingers *are* very talented." She lifted one of them to her lips and kissed it gently. "But don't share that with your mother."
I chuckled and rested my chin on her shoulder.
"I'm serious, Mulder," she said quietly. "No more ditching. I'll handcuff you to the bed if I have to."
"I always knew you had a kinky side."
"And I'm a proponent of corporal punishment." She pointed to the dressing table. "That's a nice sturdy wooden hairbrush over there and I'm not afraid to use it."
She rolled over to face me. "That's what I want, Mulder. A promise."
"Okay," I sighed. "I promise, no more ditching. If I get the urge to do a little X-File sleuthing, you're the first one I call, and you can either talk me out of it or be my partner in crime. Satisfied?"
She nodded. "Very."
I curled my lip into an Elvis-like sneer. "Of course, you know, Scully, the devil, especially one in disguise, can't be trusted."
"I'll take my chances," she countered. "And I still have the hairbrush, just in case." She kissed me gently and snuggled closer, her head settling on my chest. "Goodnight, Mulder."
Her head snapped up. "Poopydoo?"
"Yeah, you said Wayne and I have a lot in common and I heard him call his wife that. It's a term of endearment, you know, like honey or sweetie or babykins. I just thought I'd try it on for size."
"Well, it doesn't fit." She switched off the lamp and rested her head on my chest again. "As for terms of endearment, 'Scully' will do just fine."
"Okay." I stroked her hair and placed a kiss on her temple. "I'll save Poopydoo for special occasions."
"And I'll save Poopy*head* for special occasions. Goodnight, Mulder."
"Goodnight, Poopydoo." She pinched my nipple so hard it made me yelp. "Ow! I mean Scully. Goodnight, Scully."
My little Poopydoo soon drifted off to sleep, but I lay awake, thinking about my promise and our relationship and realizing that I'd have to keep one to keep the other. And I thought about the waterbed sitting in my apartment, and how much I wanted to make love to Scully in that big beautiful bed.
I hadn't worked up the courage to show Scully the waterbed yet. Our physical relationship was still so new that I was afraid she'd think I was a pervert for buying a bed that was obviously built for sex. And if I told her that I didn't buy the bed and it just appeared in my apartment, she would ship me off for an imaging scan faster than I could say "Poopydoo."
I made a promise to Scully tonight, so I made another to myself that I'll find a way to get her into that bed as soon as possible. Picturing her tattoo reflected in the mirrored canopy is all the motivation I'll need. I'm not sure how I'm going to make it happen and I'm not sure how I'm going to explain it to her when it does happen. But I know one thing -- I'm going to try like the devil.
* * *  * * * * *