Friday the Thirteenth
by hummingfly67

E-mail: hummingfly@gmail.com
Classification: MSR, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: post-IWTB

Summary: "You know your sesquipedalian orations always turn me on, 
Scully."

Disclaimer: Not mine, I just borrowed them.

Author's Notes: Originally posted at the Live Journal XF_pornbattle.

Thanks: amalnahurriyeh, idella and starry-eyed466


***

"Triskaidekaphobia."

A phobia concerning the number thirteen.  "I knew that," Mulder 
calls back towards the kitchen.  He'd said it in his head. "And you 
didn't phrase your answer in the form of a question."  Jeopardy is 
one of his guilty pleasures.  Mostly because he likes when he beats
the contestants to the answers. And he always phrases his answers 
in the form of a question.

"What is triskaidekaphobia," Scully says flatly as she wanders over 
to stand near the couch.

He decides to ignore her mockery, and reaches out to rub his hand 
along her thigh, to tickle her hip.  "Smart is sexy," he intones, 
knowing she will remember, and will smile.

She does, lips curving to show teeth.  "Sexy, huh?" she queries, one 
eyebrow crooking just slightly.

"Very sexy," he tells her, and cops a feel of her ass. He smiles 
when she sways into his touch.

"The fear of Friday the thirteenth is called 
'paraskavedekatriaphobia'," she says coquettishly, sending him a 
sidelong glance.  "The word is derived from the concatenation of the 
Greek words--"

Lightning fast, he hauls her down on top of him, lying back on the 
couch in the process. "You know your sesquipedalian orations
always turn me on, Scully," he tells her amid her giggles and false 
protests.

"I'll say," she says admiringly, shimmying over his rapidly 
hardening cock.

"Keep talking," he says breathlessly, hands on her hips to rock her 
against him.

"Um... did you know that in Greece, Romania and Spanish-speaking 
countries it is Tuesday the thirteenth that is considered unlucky?" 
she asks, running her hands under his tee shirt to rub his 
pectorals.  Her fingers scrape his nipples.

"Off," he says, lifting slightly and scrabbling at his tee shirt. 
She helps, yanking it over his head and flinging it aside. Together 
they wrestle her sweater off, and it too is tossed away. Her black 
bra, one of his very favorites because it is skimpy and lacy and 
accentuates her pale skin, immediately follows.  He is faster, hands 
cupping her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples, before she can get 
her hands back on him.  She throws her head back, thrusting her 
chest out, and grinds herself on him with undulating hips.

This time it is she who says "Off," fingers plucking at the button 
of his jeans.

He reaches her button, and the tangle of their hands results in her 
slipping off him to stand up.  He watches avidly as she shimmies 
out of her jeans and panties, forgetting about his own until she 
exclaims, "Mulder!"  Still reclined on the couch, he unbuttons, 
unzips and discards in a matter of seconds, his briefs going along 
for the ride.  His cock bounces with every motion, and the sight of 
Scully licking her lips as she watches almost does him in.

After a deep, steadying breath, he quips, "Clearly you do not suffer 
from gymnophobia, the fear of nudity."

She smiles and straddles him once more, on her knees.  His hands 
settle on her hips as she wraps her fingers around his cock and 
guides it to her wating sex.  She teases them both by rubbing the 
head along her wet folds, and he groans. Finally, she lowers herself 
slowly, tortuously, until he is fully inside her, planting her hands 
on his chest for stability.  As she starts to rock, she says in a 
husky voice, "Be glad...I don't suffer from...ithyphallophobia."

"Thank God," he intones dramatically, and she laughs, which sends 
fantastic ripples along his cock, drawing a long moan from him.  
He strokes his thumbs back and forth on the soft skin over her 
pelvic bone, gritting his teeth when this causes her to tighten on 
him.

He calls her name hoarsely when she slides on hand down his 
belly, over her mons and up to fondle her own breasts. She knows 
this drives him wild, and after a teasing glance, looks down at 
herself to watch her index finger flick her nipple.

"Fuck!" he grits out, and tightening his grip on her hips, urges her 
to increase her pace.

She abandons her play and places both hands on his hips to brace 
herself as she begins to post in earnest.

His toes are starting to curl, and the tingling in his balls tells 
him it won't be long. "Scully, you...with me?" he warns.

"Um," she says, biting her lip. "Oh."  She grinds herself against 
him as he bucks his hips upward, her fingers digging into his 
flesh.

All of a sudden she stiffens, and then bucks frantically, whimpering 
his name.  The contractions of her orgasm push him over the edge.  
With one last, hard thrust that lifts them both off the couch, he 
climaxes.  Scully rocks slowly as he sinks back into the cushions.

She collapses atop him in a sweaty heap, and he kisses the tendrils 
of hair at her temple before murmuring, "Now do you see why I 
like Jeopardy?"

***
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