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i.  automobile

The first time it happened it was the Gunmen's fault. Okay, no, it was mostly her fault, but the Gunmen held at least twenty percent of the blame. At least.

The three men were following up on yet again another ill-advised conspiracy theory that required an 'official' presence to accompany them to Missouri. While Scully initially refused to be complicit in whatever it was they were up to since it was most likely a hoax, she still tagged along when Mulder agreed to go, such was the duty of a responsible partner looking out for her much more reckless counterpart. Turns out, she was right: the so-called alien encounter was simply the result of an astounding amount of mind-altering substances and a chance encounter with drunk college students celebrating halloween several months too early.

The ride back home was well over ten hours — why they didn't just take a flight like normal people, she'd never understand — and as penance, the Gunmen agreed to split the driving between them. Mulder and Scully took the rear-facing seats at the back of the van that wasn’t overflowing with junk sci-fi artifacts.

"We're really sorry about dragging you into this, Agent Scully," Byers said apologetically for the umpteenth time.

His remorse made her feel slightly guilty about the hour-long lecture she gave earlier. "It's fine," she said, not unkindly.

Mulder looked over at the Gunmen. "You guys are getting off easy," he told them. She fixed him with a steely-eyed glare. "It’s true," he said, defensive.

It was true but she wouldn't admit it. Scully looked out the window and silently mourned the loss of her weekend. The next few hours went by without incident, but then they hit a particularly bumpy stretch of road and she began to feel nauseous since they were seated backwards. She rolled down the window but the scant breeze that passed through did little to help things. Life really wasn’t fair, Scully decided woefully.

Mulder laid a hand on her shoulder. "Car sick?"

She nodded. "Just a little."

He looked concerned. "Should we stop?"

"No, it's fine. Give it a while and it’ll pass."

Mulder scrutinised her. "You can lie down if you want," he offered.

"Where?"

He patted his lap. "Reserved just for you," he boasted.

"Mulder," she chastised quietly, and flicked a deliberate glance behind her. Their relationship as more than platonic co-workers was still in its early stages and they had yet to tell other people about them. At least, she hadn’t but—

Mulder mouthed out a plaintive sorry at her and she understood at once that he hadn't kept his mouth shut like they promised each other that they would. Scully sighed. It was only a matter of time someone found out, she supposed.

"We know," Langly called out from the front seat, as if she needed further confirmation.

"Congratulations," Frohike added. "Took you two long enough."

"It's great news," Byers said.

"Thanks," she replied dryly. Still, she was touched somewhat that they actually cared.

Mulder looked at her sheepishly and then patted his lap again. "Now that everything's out there, whaddya say, g-woman?"

Hell, why not. "Fine." Scully unhooked her seatbelt and with her knees slightly bent, she was able to contort herself into a mostly comfortable position on top of his legs.

Mulder stroked her hair and oh, that was nice. "Good, right?"

She hummed in agreement. The feeling of his fingers gently massaging her scalp soothed her and she closed her eyes, drifting off into dreamland in no time at all. Scully wasn’t sure how long she fell asleep for, but she woke up when the van jolted hard enough to pull her away from her slumber. Scully blinked blearily as she adjusted to her surroundings. From the amount of light outside, she guessed it was early afternoon. She could hear the Gunmen conversing amongst themselves with inane chatter. Mulder had an arm slung over her hip, keeping her in place.

"What—?"

"Pothole," he explained.

"Ah."

He brushed away a few stray hairs from her face. "Feel better?"

"Much," she said with a soft smile. Scully stretched out her limbs, her sore muscles stiff and aching, but no less worse than before. She jostled back against him, ready to sit up again, when her elbow prodded against something—firm. Hard. She looked down at his crotch at his burgeoning erection, then up at him again. She knew it was a natural reaction, but still.

Scully raised an eyebrow.

Mulder looked embarrassed at least. "Sorry, I can—" he angled his hips away from her but she settled her weight more firmly against him.

"No," she murmured, "this works."

He paused at that. "It...does?"

A desire to rectify her grumpy mood over her weekend plans being foiled was the only explanation for what she did next. Well, that and maybe a few...other reasons. The road that they were on was mostly empty as far as she could tell, and considering their seat placement, the Gunmen would be none the wiser if she played her cards right.

With this in mind, Scully turned to her side so she was facing him and ran her fingers over his bulge before cupping him gently. There was something pleasurable about feeling the weight of him in her hand, Scully realised. Her mouth watered at the thought of what was underneath. Since getting together they'd had sex — a lot of it, in fact; a ridiculous amount that would make even the most sex-depraved person blush — but somehow they were still insatiable when it came to one another. After all these years not being able to touch each other without consequence, it was laughable to think that their desires would be quenched so soon. She could never have enough of him; couldn't even fathom the thought of it.

Mulder let out a faint whistle of air between gritted teeth and the hand that was on her hip slid up into her hair, tightening just enough that she knew to look up at him. Are you sure? his eyes asked her.

In response, she reached for the zip of his slacks. The audible snick as the zipper passed each tooth brought up the possibility of being caught. What she was doing was incredibly stupid and common sense told her to stop, but Scully continued anyway. So much for being the responsible agent, she thought to herself. Luckily, Langly was arguing with Frohike about one thing or another and the ruckus they were making blocked them out.

Slacks now fully unzipped, she looked up at him from underneath her lashes. She wasn't sure how her expression appeared to him, but judging by the way he closed his eyes and wordlessly uttered Jesus, Scully, it must have been a good one.

Pleased, Scully rewarded him by mouthing lightly at the front of his boxers. A soft whine escaped him and he bent his neck back against the headrest.

At the sound, she pinched his side, hard. He needed to act normal or else she would stop. While the risk of getting caught was thrilling, it was only fun if it was a possibility, not when it actually happened for real.

Mulder got the message and straightened up again, but not before pulling himself out of the confines of his boxers. He was fully erect at this point; thick and large and throbbing for release. With one elbow on the seat she lifted herself up a few inches to kiss his tip, lapping at the drop of pre-cum that had emerged, and wrapped a hand around his base. Then she laid back down on the tops of his thighs and got down to business, working him into her mouth and taking in as much of his length as she could while being as quiet as possible.

"Scully asleep again, man?" Langly asked.

The sound of her name made her freeze. Mulder froze too, but then he fisted her hair and directed her head down. Telling her to continue. "Yeah, it's been a long day for her," he said, his voice remarkably steady. The fact that he was sounded so nonchalant and composed while his cock was in her mouth was a turn-on. She wanted to touch herself, desperately, but that wasn't an option, so she sucked him in deeper instead.

"Fuck," Mulder swore. She pinched him again.

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing, Frohike. Just a muscle spasm. I think I did too much running around today," he said hastily. 

"I actually know a good remedy that would help with that," Byers offered and shit, his voice sounded much closer than she would like it to be.

"Alright then, tell me and I might try it out."

Mulder continued to hold a conversation with the Gunmen while Scully bobbed her head up and down his shaft as inconspicuously as one could, under the circumstances. Once or twice, he hit the back of her throat and she gagged a bit, which Mulder covered up by coughing loudly. She was impressed by how hard he was. Obviously, he was enjoying this but she was surprised by how much she liked it as well. It was the combination of the element of danger along with Mulder's ability maintain a calm facade as she got him off that made her thighs slick under her trousers.

Scully made quicker work on him as he spoke until finally he tugged at her hair in warning. He was close. She hummed her acknowledgement very, very softly, and the vibration from it was enough; he came in long spurts down her throat and she swallowed it all, licking him nice and clean, before tucking him back into his boxers and zipping his pants up. Save for a brief pause mid-sentence — "So you're telling me essential oils do what?" — Mulder gave nothing else away about what just happened. In fact, it was Scully who found her stamina depleted what with trying to stay quiet and all. Who knew blowjobs could be such a sport.

Mulder looked down at her and gosh, those eyes, they were filled with more adoration than she could handle. His head dipped. "Good job," he whispered cheekily. 

She gave him a quick peck on the mouth for that before sitting up, and feigning a loud yawn.

"Did you have a nice nap, Agent Scully?" Byers asked innocently. 

Scully ran a tongue over the roof of her mouth still tasting of Mulder and beamed at the other man. "Best I've had in a while." Beside her, Mulder barked out a laugh.

She remained in good spirits for the rest of the ride home.

 

 

 

ii.  restaurant

The second time was Mulder’s fault. Really. She should’ve known things were going to go awry as soon as he asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner after work. "Out?" Scully asked with a frown. They usually ate at each other’s apartments and ordered takeaway so this was a drastic departure from their usual routines. She wasn't sure what to make of it. "You mean at a restaurant? With other people?"

"Ah, so that’s the word for those places. I'd always wondered," Mulder joked. "You up for it, Scully?"

She tilted her head at him. Considering. "I didn't think you liked eating at restaurants."

"I do today," he responded cheerfully. He encircled an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head, a clear violation of their PDA rules during office hours, but she'd let it slide, just this once. "So, Ma'am how are you going to RSVP? Yes? No? Maybe?"

Scully laughed, leaning into his chest briefly before pushing him back. "Don't call me Ma'am. And yes, Mulder. The answer is yes." As if she would choose any other option. 

He grinned that wonderful open grin she was seeing more often on him as of late. "I’ll pick you up at 6:30?"

"Actually, I have to run some errands first so why don’t you give me the address of wherever you think we should eat and I’ll meet you there?"

Mulder looked a bit disappointed but he ripped out a piece of paper from a notebook that was on his desk and hastily scribbled down the address. "See you then."

It was not until much later when she pulled up at the restaurant and saw that the name of it was in French — actual French, not an atrociously unoriginal bad pun some guy found funny — that she realised what Mulder was trying to do.

"You should've told me this was a date," Scully reprimanded as she approached Mulder at the entrance.

He was confused. "I thought it was obvious?"

Of course he did. "It wasn't. I thought we were just going to a low-key place. If I'd known this was where you wanted to eat I would've worn something nicer."

Mulder gave her outfit — a long pale blue chiffon skirt and a black scooped-neck top — a puzzled once-over. "You look fine though?"

Men. "You're wearing a suit," she said and indeed, he was. "I'm far too underdressed."

"Just how I like you, Scully."

"Mulder, you're missing the point," she said, but allowed him to gently grasp her shoulders and steer her inside.

The maître d' took Mulder's reservation and led them to their table at the back where another waiter wrote down their orders.

Mulder squinted at the menu. "I'll just get this," he told the waiter, gesturing at something on the page.

"I'll take the chef's recommendation," she said. 

The waiter collected their menus and departed with the promise that their food would be out soon.

"Did you know what you ordered?" Scully asked curiously after a moment.

"Nope," he groused, defeated at being caught out. "Couldn't understand a word of it."

Scully shook her head, amused. While she enjoyed fine dining well enough, the all-too-formal atmosphere here didn't feel right somehow. Not for them. Mulder seemed to feel the same way. He was tapping his fingers away on the table in an incessant rhythm and she placed her hand over his, stopping him.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine."

A pause.

"Uh. So. How was your day?"

"Mulder," she said in a tone that meant You idiot, but also, I adore you. "We work together. You know how my day went."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't ask."

Her laughter when it came was soft, gentle, overly fond. "You didn't have to do this, you know."

"Do what?"

"Take me to an upscale overly-expensive restaurant where neither of us can read or pronounce anything on the menu."

"I know." Mulder looked uncharacteristically abashed. "But I wanted to make you happy."

Scully forgot how sweet he could be sometimes. "I am," she assured him. "But I would have been just as happy if we were at your place with a bottle of beer and pizza." She added, a playful afterthought, "That way we can go straight to the sex afterwards without having to wait through traffic."

"Scully!" he admonished, faux scandalised. "I knew you only wanted me for my body."

"Guilty as charged," she said mildly.

A wicked spark appeared in his eyes then and oh no, Scully thought, nothing good ever came from that. "Plus, if memory recalls there was a time very recently where you didn't even wait until we got home. Even with the Gunmen in the same vehicle, in fact."

Scully blushed. They had not spoken about the...incident, for lack of a better word, since it happened a few weeks ago. The fact that he was being so frank about it made her self-conscious. She still didn't know what came over her that day.

Mulder picked up on her mood straight away. "Hey," he said, squeezing her hand. "It's me. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I enjoyed it. A lot, in case you couldn't tell."

Despite herself, she grinned. "I could tell," she said with a sly, purposeful look at him.

He chuckled. "Yes. Well. I guess I owe you for that one, don't I?"

"Owe me? I thought you made it up to me quite well that very night."

"I still felt bad though," he leaned in closer and pitched his voice low. "If I had my way, I would've touched you in the van, and if the Gunmen heard it wouldn't even have mattered because at least my fingers were inside you and I could make you come for me right there and then."

Oh.

The temperature in the room seemed to rise considerably. She felt hot, stifled, like she'd been out in the sun for too long. "Mulder," she cautioned. But she did not say stop.

A slow, dangerous look of understanding crossed his face. "Were you wet, Scully? Back there in the van?"

Her own voice, barely audible: "Yes."

"I bet you were. I bet you were soaked. It must've been uncomfortable, sitting there, all wet and nobody to clean you up like you did so well with me."

"It was," she whispered.

"Are you wet now?"

Her stomach clenched. She didn't answer but all he needed to do was look at her and he would know. He would know.

"Take them off."

Her head shot up in shock. "What?" Surely, he didn't mean—

"Your underwear," he clarified, and yes, he did mean that. "Take them off."

"Don't be stupid," Scully said, her heart racing, but already she was thinking ahead. The restaurant was full but they were secluded in the corner of the room, away from the other tables. There was a large potted plant blocking them from the kitchen. The tablecloth covered the entire lower half of their bodies. She shouldn't have noted these things but she did because she wanted this, God, she hated how much she wanted this.

"C'mon," Mulder said, sweetly cajoling in the same way he spoke when trying to convince her on the merits of investigating a decades-old cold case. He smiled at her. "I owe you, remember?"

He did owe her, she thought deliriously. Mulder was just returning a favour she had generously given. As long as she didn't repeat this again, she would return to being the image of propriety afterwards, the balance in the world restored.

God, she was actually going to do this. She couldn't believe she was actually going to do this.

His smile widened. He had her and he knew it.

Scully let go of his hand and placed both of hers on her lap before slowly bunching up her skirt in fistfuls. Took a deep breath. Hooked her thumbs onto her lacy briefs. Lifted her hips enough to slide it over her backside and let it fall down her legs until it dangled off one ankle.

Mulder watched her face. "Are they off?"

She nodded.

"Give them to me."

It took her a second to figure out a covert method but she scooted closer to the table and placed her foot with the briefs hanging off it it on his thigh. Mulder fingers curved over the fine bone of her ankle before removing the piece of lingerie. For a split second, he brought her briefs above the table so she could see him run a thumb over the wet patch she'd made before pocketing them. He licked his thumb. "Tastes good," he husked. He lifted his eyes to hers. "Bet it'd taste even better at the source."

She regretted giving him her underwear. Now there was no barrier between her and the skirt and the chair she was seated on. She was going to soak through them all, there was no doubt about it. "Mulder, I—"

"Should I, Scully?" he interrupted.

It was hard to keep track of the conversation, she was so frazzled. "Should you...what?"

"Get on my hands and knees underneath this table right now and eat you out." He continued, "It's only fair, isn't it?"

Fuck it. She didn't want to draw this out any longer. Not when she felt like she might die if he didn't touch her.

"It's only fair," she agreed breathlessly. "Please, Mulder."

Mulder looked around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching and once he was satisfied that they were in the clear, he pushed his chair back. "Look casual," he told her. Then he disappeared under the table. 

Scully propped up an elbow and rested her chin on her palm, feigning an insouciant air, and breathing unsteadily as she did so. What were they doing? She had half a mind to just stand up and go to the ladies room where she could regain at least some semblance of her sanity when she felt the rustle of her skirt being pushed up and warm hands creeping up her calves.

Mulder. It was too late to leave now. Not that she wanted to. 

They were under a time constraint so Mulder skipped right past the foreplay. He gripped the flesh of her inner thighs with both hands and spread them as far as he could. She could feel his breath on her cunt and she shivered. Scully couldn't see his face but she knew he was staring at how wet she was, smug at the fact that it was all for him, and nobody else. Then, finally, she felt his wonderful tongue licking into her in strong, broad strokes.

Instinctively, her legs tried to clamp shut, but he forced them apart again and kept them there. His head rocked into her lap as he licked and slurped and lapped. She was so wet that she could hear the distinct squelch as his tongue parted her folds and sucked at her clit. The sound was lewd, obscene, and he wasn't even trying to hide it, the bastard. She needed to push him away soon, now, or else someone was going to hear, the whole restaurant was going to find out if she didn't stop him, they would never be allowed into a food establishment again, she needed to—

"Oh God," she choked out in a muffled cry. She hid her face in her hands and that was it, the tide overtook her and she could do nothing but ride out the sensation. His mouth remained on her the entire time, licking until she became too sensitive and kicked at his back with her heels.

He emerged from under the table a minute later with his mouth and jaw glistening of her and he wiped at it with his sleeves, triumphant and entirely too satisfied. 

"I gotta say, Scully; I'm still hungry, but nothing will beat that meal."

 

 

 

iii.  public restroom

She wasn't sure whose fault it was the third time. Technically, it might've been the FBI but she was pretty sure this wasn't what they meant by maintaining their cover at all costs.

The case they were on was a strange one, as always, but not altogether unfamiliar. Several patrons had been found dead at a nightclub in the course of a month with no signs as to the cause of their demise. All of them had engaged in some form of sex prior to dying but they had each left with a different person according to the security footage. It was reminiscent of the Kindred case, but there were also many people who had been left alive and were only depleted of their energy for a few weeks before returning to normal. Mulder suspected it was the works of a shape-shifting succubus; Violent Crimes disagreed. Vehemently.

Regardless, the X-Files and Violent Crimes were operating as a joint task force until the culprit, human or otherwise, was caught. For the past week, both departments — aka Mulder and her and the much larger staffed VCU — had taken turns going to the club and keeping an eye out for any suspicious persons.

Admittedly, despite the grim nature of the case, she enjoyed the undercover aspect of it. Now that they were together, things between them were much more relaxed since they no longer had to hide their attraction from each other. Scully was able to wear her skimpiest, shortest dresses suitable for a nightclub without having to overthink things, and Mulder was free to ogle at her openly without pretending that he wasn't.   

Tonight's outfit was a particular favourite. 

"You're killing me, Scully," he groaned when she emerged from the bedroom in a silver spaghetti-strapped dress that barely skimmed her thighs. 

"Only in the best ways," she quipped before dragging him out the door. 

The nightclub was called Heat which was appropriate, Scully supposed, since it felt like a sauna inside on account of the numerous sweaty bodies cramped in the same space. It was Wednesday and while they had sat in the sidelines drinking water until 2am the past few times they were here, this time Mulder headed straight to the bar and ordered two shots.

"Mulder, we're on shift," Scully reminded him as he slid a shot glass towards her.

"Nothing's going to happen tonight. I've been tracking the incidents and there's a pattern. The succubus—"

She corrected, "Unknown suspect—"

"—is operating on a schedule," he finished. "They'll make their move on Friday, I'm sure of it. So drink up, Scully. We're having fun tonight."

Scullt hesitated. Tempted. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. When have I ever been wrong before?"

There were a few retorts she had in mind for that but she tipped her head back and downed her shot instead. Then she flagged the bartender for another one.

Mulder's eyes shone bright. "Atta girl," he said, delighted.

"Shut up, Mulder, and have your shot before I finish it for you."

"Stop bossing me around, woman—ouch, okay, okay, I'm drinking!"

An hour — two? three? — passed and it became official: they were both inebriated. Not to the point that they were completely wasted, but definitely enough that their inhibitions were lowered by a significant amount.

"Let's dance," Mulder said suddenly. 

Scully canvassed the scene in front of them with a lazy, sceptical gaze. "Dance?" she slurred with nary a hiccup—oh wait, no, there it was. "That's not dancing, Mulder." 

"If it's not dancing then why is it called a dance floor?" He sounded far too proud making that statement.  

She snorted. "The dance floor at a nightclub is merely an excuse for alcohol-addled bodies to grind up against each other and simulate sex."

Mulder looked at her, half-lidded. "Okay, let's do that then."

She laughed. "Oh no, Mulder, we're here for work, we're here to catch a killer, we're—"

"—completely drunk off our asses and are of absolutely no use to the FBI at the moment." He jumped off his bar stool and grabbed her hand, pulling her up as well. "Let's dance," he repeated.

Scully let him guide her through the throngs of people until he found a spot near the middle that he liked, and spun her around so her back was pressed against his front. He tucked a chin between the crook of her neck and shoulder. "I like having fun with you, Scully," he said, so soft, and the music around them was blaring at full volume, rattling the walls and the floor and the roof, but she still heard him loud and clear. 

Her Mulder. She laid a hand on his cheek and kissed him. It was supposed to be brief but he prolonged it, and changed it to one that was long and dirty and deep. The angle was awkward so she made up for it by rocking her backside into the cradle of his hips. She felt his erection grow hard, then harder, and she rubbed herself against him until the friction felt just right, his rigid cock sliding between her ass cheeks over their clothing. Meanwhile, his greedy hands pawed at the underside of her breasts, her waist, and teased the hemline of her dress, lifting it inch by inch. When his finger touched the edge of her underwear, she broke her mouth away from his with a gasp. "Not here."

He thrust up against her and her breath caught. "I'm either going to fuck you here or in the taxi ride back to your place so choose."

God.

Scully needed it as much as he did. She was damp between her legs, and she was restless, lost beyond all sense of reason. "Restroom," she said, thinking fast.

He nodded. "Good choice." 

They both stumbled off the dance floor and down the hallway and a miracle of all miracles occurred: there was no line and the ladies room was unoccupied. She shoved him inside and closed the door behind them with a loud bang before locking it. The restroom was a single stall with almost no room at all but it was enough.

It was definitely enough.

Mulder leaned against the sink and unbuckled his belt with shaking, impatient hands. His cock slapped wetly against his stomach and she wanted to sink down to her knees and take him in her mouth, but she wanted him inside her more. She pushed her underwear down her legs, kicking it away to God knows where, and he tugged her towards him.

Without warning, he hoisted her up so her thighs clamped his waist and her legs were braced on the edge of the sink. He bent his knees slightly to accommodate for the height difference and positioned himself so his cock nudged her dripping entrance.

"Ride me," he demanded, and she sunk down into him, sweet relief at last. She bounced and twisted on top of his cock for all it was worth, rising above him using the sink as leverage until only the head of his cock was touching before taking in all of him once more. Again and again, she repeated the motion and Mulder bit into her shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks, licked her neck and groaned so loudly that the sound reverberated off the walls. "Fuck, Scully, so good, keep going, baby, keep going."

"I am, I will, yes, yes," she chanted and bounced on him some more, clutching his shoulders, his hair, anywhere she could touch. "Mulder, I'm so close."

He grabbed her hips so she could hit him even deeper and she yelped in surprise. "Yess," Mulder hissed, and he was about to say something else as well before he stopped.

Someone was knocking on the door. Fuck.

"Occupied," Scully gasped out, still riding him as she said it. Hell, if she was going to stop—not when she was so close. She rode him harder, thigh muscles straining at the effort. Her pubic bone bumped against his. "God, Mulder."

The knocking continued. Persistent. 

"She said occupied," Mulder snarled out to whoever was at the door, far too loud, and she giggled, slapping a hand over his mouth.    

"Mulder."

But it worked. The knocking stopped and she heard the sound of footsteps quickly retreating.

"That was so irresponsible," Scully protested, but she was not entirely dissatisfied since it gave them the outcome they both wanted.

Deft fingers moved towards her clit, tweaking and pinching expertly, and then she was gasping out into his neck again. "More irresponsible than fucking in a public restroom?"

"What? Oh. Maybe. I don't know—yes, there, Mulder, right there, God—ohmygod, oh—"

Her release peaked and a moment later, Mulder followed right along with her. She held his head to her breast as they regained their breathing. Clarity came back to her in increments. Shit, not again. "Why do we keep forgetting that we have a bed at home?" she mumbled under her breath.

Mulder teased her nipple, whirling it with his tongue, and chuckled darkly when she whimpered. "Trust me, I'm not complaining," he said.

 

 

 

iv. elevator

The fourth time—look, they'd had a bad day, alright?

It started a week ago when Mulder changed her alarm clock to go off an hour later than she usually set it at without telling her, which threw off her entire morning routine, and the arguments just seemed to steamroll from there on out:

"Mulder, have you been eating my toothpaste? This is the second tube of toothpaste in a fortnight I've had to replace!"

"Why is there food crumbs in the couch?"

"—no, I will not go ghost hunting with you, it's 3am, why the hell aren't you asleep yet—"

"This is called a bin. People use it to put trash inside. The bedside drawer does not count as one."

Needless to say, Mulder was driving her crazy, and today was no different. Neither of them agreed with how the other was handling their current case and after throwing barbs and exchanging thinly-veiled insults at one another all day, their conversations had now lapsed into a stormy silence. Scully refused to concede. Mulder was the one who was wrong. Not her. 

Five o'clock could not come fast enough. As soon as it hit the hour on the dot, she packed her belongings into her briefcase and was ready to head out. "Don't come over tonight," she said to him coldly before leaving. She did not wait for his reply.

Scully made her way down the hall and into the elevator but just as the doors began to close, a foot jammed in between the gap and forced it open again.

"What the fuck, Scully?" Mulder asked angrily.

She tapped her heel on the linoleum floor. "Is that all you have to say? Because I'd really like to go home right now."

He stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind them. He stalked forward and Scully walked back until she had nowhere else to go. His body loomed over hers as he trapped her with his hands on the wall on either side of her. "You've been in a mood with me all week. If you have something to say, tell it to my face."

"Oh, please. Like you're Mr Communication," she scoffed. "You haven't spoken a word to me at all this afternoon."

"Only because you didn't speak to me either!"

They glared at each other. 

"We're not breaking up," he said roughly. "Not like this."

That got a reaction from her; she looked at him, startled. "I never said we were?"

"Isn't this what our fighting has been leading to?"

"Of course not." As pissed as she was at him this week, their arguments were mostly petty and easily-fixable. It was absurd, why would he—oh. Right. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as realisation dawned on her. Phoebe. Diana. If ever was there a representation on the long-term effects of toxic relationships, Mulder was the poster boy for it. His insecurities were flashing like a neon light. Scully sighed, her temper subsiding. "The honeymoon phase we had going on these past few months was going to plateau sooner of later. We've hit a speed bump, I know, but I'm not going to leave you because you won't put the toilet seat down at my apartment."

"You're not?"

"No."

He seemed genuinely perplexed. She watched him fight an internal battle with himself before he hauled her by the waist into a kiss. Her briefcase dropped onto the floor. She kissed him back. "Missed you," he said between hard kisses. "Missed you so, so, much."

"Mulder," Another kiss. "I didn't go anywhere."

"Don't care. Still missed you."

Just then, the elevator rattled and began to ascend. Mulder pulled away from her and rushed to the control panel, slamming on the emergency break button. A loud ring sounded and the elevator shuddered to a stop. 

She looked at him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Come here."

"Why?" she asked, but she stepped towards him anyway. 

Mulder took her hand and pressed her index finger on the emergency button before releasing his own. "Leave it there." He moved behind her so she could no longer see him. "Bend," he ordered.

It was unfair that a single word could cause a shiver to run down her spine. "One of these days, we're going to get caught," Scully said, turning her neck to glance askance at him.

Mulder's voice fell an octave. "Are you saying that you don't want to do this?"

She bent. Slowly. Said nothing. 

He yanked her skirt up until her entire backside was exposed. "Gotta warm you up quick," he said. His hand reached over her front and between her legs and with a dig of his nails, he tore a hole into her hose at the crotch.

"Mulder!" she exclaimed in horror. "Those were expensive!"

"I'll buy you a better one. Silk, even." Now accessible, one, then two of his fingers moved aside her nude panties and pumped inside her rhythmically. The hose was definitely beyond repair now. 

"More," she said, and he added a third finger as well. In no time at all, she was sopping wet and the evidence was coated on his shining fingers, slick with her moisture. She heard him unzip his pants with one hand, stroking himself lightly, and bent her down even further with the other. "Hurry," she told him. Then she let out a small shout. 

He entered her. Sheathed her. Buried her to the hilt. She could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pulsated inside her, and then he was pounding away, in and out, the wet sound of their coupling filling the elevator. 

Her head fell forward, hair obscuring her vision as she tried to push back as best as she could. Her rhythm was off though—Mulder was moving too fast for her to match in her position and she gave up, letting him take over. Her hands scrabbled against the control panel and she almost lifted her finger off the emergency button. 

"Keep them still," he barked in her ear. She flattened out her palms. "If you let go, those doors will open straight away, Scully. It's the end of a work day—people are desperate to go home and wondering why the elevator won't work. There's probably a crowd out there waiting."

She moaned. "God, Mulder—" 

"What do you think they would do if they saw us? Spooky ramming his hard cock into his hot as hell partner? All the men would want to be in my place. Some of the women too, I bet. I wish everyone in the whole FBI building could see us right now having the best goddamn time of our lives—"

A high-pitched sound. "—the best—"

He picked up his pace, driving into her so hard she was going to be sore for days. "FBI's most unwanted but you want me don't you, Scully? You want me so much."

"So much," she agreed frantically.

"Your cunt is practically drenched. So wet. So tight. My cock has never felt better. One more thrust and that would be all it takes for you to break apart am I right? One more thrust and I can take you home and we can do this all over again. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Scully? It's never enough for you, Scully—you always have to be taken over and over again before you're finally satisfied, you dirty, greedy slut—"

That did it. She came and came, groaning when he spilled into her as well, filling her up. She had never felt so full. He slid out of her and rearranged her underwear back in place, cupping her mound briefly over the fabric so their combined fluids stayed inside her. She squirmed, liking it more than she would admit. 

"Can't leave a mess on government property," he said seriously.

Scully huffed a laugh. 

They tidied themselves up as best as they could and she straightened out her skirt with one hand. "I can't believe we just did that." 

Him. Smug. "I can."

Once she was sure they both looked passable, she let go of the emergency button and the elevator began moving again before automatically opening to the sight of the worst possible person they could encounter.

"Finally," Skinner said in an exasperated tone. "I've been waiting here for ages."

 

 

 

v.  office

The fifth time was both their faults. Honestly, it was only a matter of time before something happened at their office. Still, she was trying to behave herself. She'd made rules, and by Christ, she was going to stick to them. 

Kind of. A little. Maybe.

All morning, Mulder had teased her into a deliberate frenzy. Squeezed a hand on her upper thigh the entire car ride to work. Leaned over the table so he could murmur his latest theories into her ear. Pressed her against the filing cabinet, ostensibly under the guise of grabbing a casefile. "Enough," she burst out, the third time his body brushed against hers. 

He stilled. "What?"

"I know what you're doing," she told him petulantly. He wasn't even attempting to be subtle.

Mulder headed back to his desk and folded his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Care to elaborate, Scully?"

She was standing her ground, Scully told herself. She was. Standing. Her. Ground. "It's not happening."

His smirk told her everything she needed to know. "What's not happening?"

Scully checked the door even though they rarely had visitors before answering. "I'm not having sex with you at the office."

"Why not?" Mulder asked, and sounded like he meant it. "We've already had sex everywhere else; in the car, at a club—hell, even in the elevator just outside."

Scully sputtered. Hearing him list out the places...there wasn't much she could say to that. "Those were—momentary lapses of judgement. Which I will not be repeating."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"You're the one who started this, Scully," he pointed out.

She pursed her lips into a thin line, affecting what she hoped to be a stern expression. "And now I'm ending it."

Mulder observed her with a profiler's vision. His gaze was too knowing. Dammit. "No, you're not," he determined. "Tell me that this isn't a top fantasy of yours like it is for me."

Scully felt her cheeks growing warm. She couldn't. It would be a lie if she said that she never imagined fucking him on the desk or against the wall or even on the floor until one of them lost control. Of course she had. "We have to at least pretend to set some boundaries between our personal and work life, Mulder," she said instead.

"But that's the best thing about us. The reason we work together so well is because we know the other's personal quirks. The sex has intensified that. Made us better."

A long disbelieving stare. "Are you actually saying that we should have office sex for the sake of improving our partnership?"

"Well, it can't hurt can it?" he asked mischievously. "You know me, Scully. I'm always up for testing a scientific hypothesis."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Right. That's why you want to do this. For science."

"Scout's honour," he said solemnly, holding up his fingers in a salute.

"Mulder?"

"Hmm?" 

"You're an idiot."

He grinned. "I know," he said. "But you love me anyway."

It was impossible not to smile. Her heart leapt with affection. "I suppose so," she replied. "But still no office sex. It's too dangerous."

A waggle of his eyebrows. "Dangerous? Exactly what kind of office fantasies have you been having?"

"You know what I mean." She began to pace the length of the room. "Once we have sex in the office, what's to stop us from doing it again? We'd think about it all the time."

"I already do each time I walk into the elevator," Mulder said.

"But you can take the stairs instead. The office is our space. Our second home away from home. It's where we do all the work. I'd never be able to look at the desk without, without..." she trailed off.

"I can," Mulder said. 

She stopped in her tracks. "Can you now?" she challenged.

He nodded. Confident. Cocky. "Unlike you, I have a lot of self-control."

Scully didn't just laugh; she straight up guffawed. She had to hold her stomach, she was laughing so hard. "Can you repeat that, Mulder? I want to record it on tape. If I touched you in here, you wouldn't last a day before trying to get us horizontalHell, an hour."

"That's not true," he argued.  

"It is."

"It isn't."

"It is," she said heatedly. She was getting into it now, this need to show that she was right. She stamped her way around his desk until she was on the other side. Mulder spun his chair around to face her. "I'll prove it."

She sat on his lap, her front pressed against his front. His arms tightened around her.

"Please, Scully. Be my guest."

She began to rock into his lap in slow, steady movements. "You can't come," she warned him.

"Wait a minute," he said. His erection grew underneath her ministrations. "That's cheating."

"No," she countered. She ground herself down more. "It's called a home advantage."

"I beg to differ." He grunted as she swivelled her hips. "Cheater."

They were silent for a few minutes after that. Scully was wearing trousers and the delicious friction of the fabric rubbing against her as she moved on top of him did things to her. She could feel herself getting wet. A small noise escaped her — a mewl, or a whine, maybe — and Mulder answered with a muttered swear. Outside the window, a bird chirped. The fan above them spun. The chair creaked. 

Her eyes caught the time on the clock. "It's only midday," she said, a little surprised. She'd thought it was at least later than that.

"Yeah?" It was clear that Mulder wasn't listening. He was thrusting into her now, his hands on her hips trying to guide her motions to little effect. 

Scully slowed down instead. "Don't do that," she said, and he stopped. Good. She started moving again. His legs flexed. Helpless. She gripped one hand on his shoulder and the other traversed down his chest and bit into his inner thigh with her nails. 

"For the love of—God, Scully. Please."

"You can't come," she said again. Her voice was sharp. Her nails dug in deeper. "Promise me, Mulder. Say it."

"I won't come," he said. He sounded pained. 

Up and down she moved, rocking, sliding, grinding. Her underwear was damp and she was slick around her thighs. She imagined being inside him right now, her warm cunt encasing his thick cock. Her insides clenched. Her thighs shook. But no. He had to learn. What, exactly, he had to learn, she couldn't remember, but who cared when it felt this good?

Scully moved faster, harder, using his cock as a plaything to rub against cruelly for her own satisfaction and he begged her, pleaded with her: Please, Scully, I need, fuck—Scully. Please.

"No," she said, "No." She would need to go to the bathroom to clean up afterwards with the mess she was making. She was chasing her release without a care now. Her mouth tangled with his for a kiss and he reciprocated eagerly, mouth falling open and tongue licking inside the exact same way he would eat her pussy. 

"Mm—Scully. You taste. So good."

She came. Gasped into his mouth as it hit her. Mulder groaned in reply. A stray thought at the back of her head wondered if she stained his pants. If he would walk around the rest of the day with the evidence of her on him.

Underneath her, his cock twitched. "I was wrong," he said. "Congratulations. You won." His fingers began to unbutton her pants and his at the same time.

She let him, too sated to care. "Just this once," she said.

"Whatever you say, Scully."