Happy Halloween Mulder!
“Thank you for coming in on your day off Agent”, Skinner began without looking up from his desk, “the subcommittee will need that information first thing in the morning and there are only a few things that you need to sign off on….” His voice trailed off as he raised his head. Scully was standing before him, but not a Scully he had ever even conceived of. This was a teenage wet dream, Scully the wildcat. Head to toe, she was dressed in black, tight, clinging black. The shirt scooped in the front, affording a view of creamy white breasts, framed with fur. The pants were painted on, so tight that he thought he could see the outline of her vulva lips. Her hair was full and wild about her face, her makeup dark and inviting, and she had black cat ears on her head and a long black tail trailed behind. She had only been in his department a few weeks, and frankly he’d never really noticed that she was female. He would never forget now, no matter how she hid it, he’d know what was beneath. For a split second, he wanted nothing more than to nail her against the wall, driving into her small body. He glanced down, struggling to regain his tight control, but knowing he would be revisiting this image in his mind again and again.
“I’m sorry about the costume Sir”, she hesitated, uncertain of what she thought she saw in Skinner’s face, “I was on my way to a Halloween party when I got the call. I didn’t have the time to change, and you did say this wouldn’t take long”, she continued, more confidently now, sure she had mistaken what she thought she saw.
“It’s alright Agent, just go downstairs and finish the paperwork, and thank you again for making this effort.” “And Agent Scully? You look very nice.”
‘Poor Mulder’ he thought as the door closed, ‘he won’t know what hit him…’
He couldn’t breath, he felt lightheaded, even faint. Nothing above his waist seemed to be working. All the blood was gone, leaving him dazed and more aroused than he’s been in years. Hell, decades. Why the hell hadn’t Skinner warned him? Scully was, well, fuckable. The most fuckable woman he’d seen in a long, long time, maybe, ever. She knew too. She smiled a Mona Lisa smile after she walked in, to be fair; he had fallen back into his chair and dropped all the files he’d been holding. But damn it! She was wearing a catsuit! A Fucking Catsuit! It wasn’t fair, he had just gotten his life in order, everything and everyone in neat little compartments, Scully was in the partner, maybe friend compartment, she had no business jumping into another compartment. How could he live with someone in his life that insisted on being different than his perception of her? He wondered if her hair felt soft. Her scent seemed different too, like a cross between a harem and a bakery. She wasn’t usually this quiet, was she waiting for something? She was looking at him as if she was waiting for him to answer; frantically he rewound his mental tape, damn, nothing there. He had no idea what she had said or what she wanted. Whatever he did, he hoped he could do again, Scully was giggling like a teenager. He really liked the sound, unrestrained and unguarded.
“Mulder, if you’re finished staring, I’ll sign the papers that you are clutching.”
“Where are you going?”
OK, that wasn’t the right response, Scully eyes got even bigger and rounder, and her mouth dropped open in a tight little ‘O’. Blow job lips he decided, and wondered what they tasted like. Damn, he lost track of the conversation again, she had said something and he missed it. She was trying to take the files he had rescued from the floor. He needed those files; he had to keep her from discovering that he was very happy to see her. He grabbed them back, pulling hard. So hard, that he pulled Scully straight into his lap. ‘Please God’, he thought, ‘just take me now.’
“Mulder, I doubt God will let you die from embarrassment, but considering how constricted your blood flow is, it’s always a possibility.”
“I said that out loud?”
“Are you mad?”
“Can I get up now?
Damn, dumping her on the floor when he leapt to his feet wasn’t the correct response. Now Scully looked pissed. Edible, but very pissed. And kind of wild, her hair mussed and her eyes flashing and suddenly imagined her stalking him across the bed, hair wild, eyes flashing, completely naked. He fell back into the chair again when his body realized that there was no blood left to send to his legs.
Scully no longer seemed angry; she seemed to have regained her earlier amusement. She sat on the floor, in the middle of the office, threw back her head, and laughed until she cried.
Mulder stared at her, his IQ having dropped so low; it was now only measurable in Kelvin. She continued to snicker as she slid the papers from his hands, signed them while leaned low over his desk, and giggled to the door. As she stepped out, her voice carried back to Mulder.
“Have a good night Mulder, and Mulder - - pleasant dreams.