Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Fox Mulder / Dana Scully
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Scully finds release in an unexpected way.
Notes: This fic includes mildly kinky sex, fetishism, and some bending of gender roles. I am not sure how character compliant it is. The idea came to me and I just ran with it. I appreciate all types of criticism and praise, and I hope that you may find this as erotic to read as I did to write.
I used to have days when I would dance in my skin, itching with need, hunger, and frustration. Colors were bright; scents were heady in the air, and I ached to make sense of them, to be in control. I would shed my roles as little sister, honor student, good little girl, as I put on my denim jacket, black eyeliner, and rings in every hole I had (seven at the time). I called them my “bitch” days.
It was about being in control, having power, putting forward a face for the world to express my inner need. From that display, it was a short trip to dressing like a man. I slicked back my already short, red hair. My breasts were bound tightly against my chest, covered with a shirt and tie. My hips were squeezed into pants not made for them.
Was I convincing? I don’t know. Probably not, but I didn’t care. I felt good. I think people wondered. I could feel it in the way they would refuse to look me in the eye. They didn’t know whom I was or what to think. Even their confusion was my power. My little mind-fuck power trip.
Lovely androgyny aside, it wasn’t really me. I didn’t want to be a man, just feel like one. I wanted to be like one of those cock-swinging little boys that played dress up in daddy’s clothes and thought they were fucking six-feet tall and bulletproof.
After a while, I found out that playing dress up in borrowed armor wasn’t what I wanted; it wasn’t the way to feel truly invincible. I needed to indulge, just a little bit, in just how vulnerable I really was. Vinyl, and leather, and rubber, hugging every curve, baring every secret. No more playing at something I wasn’t. I still bound my breasts and slicked back my lengthening hair. I wore confining, skin-tight outfits and danced and played with a freedom I had never known. It made my head spin, but eventually I grew up and left the childish games behind.
After joining the X-Files a few years ago, I started to feel that itch again – too confined in my proper suits that felt as ill-fitting as the costume ones I used to wear, once again the good little girl, with, “Yes, Sir. No, Sir. Three bags full…” A few months ago after my ill-fated rebellion and new tattoo, I stopped fighting my need, because I was falling apart and losing myself without the release.
I met Stephanie at the store where I bought my first rubber outfit. I came after work and stayed when she closed the shop and she helped me in and out of a dozen figure hugging creations, until we found the perfect look. She adopted me under her wing and invited me out for my inaugural party, to meet her friends and celebrate my foray into a new universe of freedom.
It was about four months later at another party, where my life changed yet again. We were laughing and joking around and my body was humming, in a good way. Then I saw him. My breath caught in my throat and my laughter died on my lips. I stared, trying not to be caught in the maelstrom of emotions that I was feeling.
Would he see me? Would he recognize me? How could he not? Mulder wasn’t one to let preconceived ideas blind him, unless it was his own willful rebellion. The thoughts raced through my mind, and must have shown on my face. My companions noticed my odd behavior and asked me if I knew him. “We’ve worked together for a few years. I didn’t expect to see him here.” They didn’t know exactly who I was in my other life, or what I did, beyond being some kind of doctor, but they laughed just the same.
“Thirty-two flavors, Dana. I takes *all* kinds.” Stephanie smiled, knowingly.
I smiled thoughtfully. “Well, the first time I saw him, he was dressed like Cher.” They gave me a strange look, which was amusing, considering where we were. “It was a Halloween party for the office, a year or two before I started working with him. He had on a long black wig and a beaded top and I had just started a week before. It stayed with me.” I hadn’t really known him them, but his reputation had preceded him. Back then, the “Spooky” moniker was still partially inspired by his work in the BSU, and his ability to get into the minds of some very freaky people, but it was slowly being overtaken by the derision for his outspoken personality and paranormal theories. Mulder was anything but forgettable, even before I had become acquainted with him, and when he was being particularly annoying, I loved revisiting that first glimpse of him.
Even now, I smiled at the memory as I looked up to see him staring at me. It was disconcerting, but I still hoped that he wouldn’t recognize me. “What does it matter?” I argued with myself. “He is here, too, dressed like he is. He isn’t the same man I thought I knew, even if he still makes my insides tremble, and my eyes dilate, and my breathing come in short little gasps.” Except, all of that was happening now, as we stared at each other. I broke contact and excused myself from my friends, ignoring their knowing smirks.
I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the vanity mirror. I wanted to splash water on my face, but that might wash away my make-up, my disguise. I needed that extra layer of armor between me and the world, between us.
I banged my fists down on the countertop and I was angry. “Why am I letting this get to me? I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not giving up this part of my life for him, too. The rules have changed. It’s about control… remember? So, get your shit together and get back out there.”
It worked. I breathed in deeply and felt the steel in my backbone, the spark of attitude and edge of anger that gave me that dangerous walk and the narrowing of my eyes that warned all that wanted to play, that it would be on my terms. It might not happen often anymore, but even Mulder should recognize it.
Then, he was right there. He was leaning against the wall, as nonchalantly as he could, being six feet tall and wearing heels. This time, I didn’t try to hide. I smiled as his voice, like rough silk, greeted me. “Hello, Scully.”
“Hello, Fox,” I answered, as much to throw him off-balance as to indicate that this had nothing to do with the office. It was a bit awkward and confusing, but the devil may care. I reached up on my toes, pressed our rubber-clad bodies together, and kissed him. It was familiar and rich and dark and sexy as hell, as tongues teased and teeth nipped.
Then, I walked away without a second glance. He reached out and grasped my arm. I slowly, deliberately, looked down at his hand and followed the length of his arm up to his face, with my brow arched in question. He asked softly, “Stay… please?”
I smiled, then, and without words, took his hand, leading him back to the party. I waved to Stephanie and her date, and she smiled amusedly and made a motion for me to call her tomorrow. I nodded, and then returned my attention to Fox.
He was so tall, next to me, with a swimmer’s build. He was wearing a long black wig, like that long-past party and his face was excellently made up. The rubber of his outfit encased his upper body and down to mid-thigh like a wetsuit, shiny and slick in the bright lights.
I rubbed against him and discretely ran a finger from the top of his knee, along the edge of his high boots and up the inside of his thigh to where the rubber creased at the top of his leg. He bucked into me. “Good boy,” I thought and reached around to his ass, pulling him flush against me.
We danced the next few songs. His limbs were long and gangly, but we kept up a decent rhythm. He buried his face against my neck, breathing me in, and held me close. I bit gently on his earlobe. “Let’s go,” I whispered breathlessly and I took his hand and led him out of the ballroom. He followed easily.
We went to the elevators. Since it was a Friday night and I had planned on drinking, I was one of many who had booked a room, rather than attempt the long drive home to Georgetown. I thanked whatever gods were listening for my foresight. We kissed for the entire length of the ten-story ride, and then stumbled toward my room, loathe to let each other go.
I fished the keycard out of the zippered pocket on my thigh and used it to open the door. I didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. The blinds were open and moonlight flooded the room, making the area around the bed glow as I pushed him toward it.
He fell back across the duvet, without resistance, moving only to center himself on his back, with his head on the pillows. I could see his fingers flex, as if he longed to reach for me, but he didn’t move, and just looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, waiting for me. It brought a ghost of a smile to my lips, and I lifted my knee to the other side of his slim hips to straddle him.
I tugged the tight rubber of my skirt up around my hips, to press myself against him. The layers of his outfit, and my thin silk panties seemed like little barrier, as I imagined I could feel the heat of him through them, along with the thick ridge of his arousal. I shifted forward a bit until his bulge was right up against my clit, and began to slowly rock back and forth, rubbing myself off against him.
He put his hands on my hips to help me move, and I didn’t stop him, transfixed by the look of awe and pleasure on his face as a delicious ache began to throb up from my clit to my belly. I reached for the zip on the front of my dress and slowly drew it down, inch by agonizing inch, as my pleasure grew higher and higher. When I had opened it to my waist, I reached inside and grabbed my tit, squeezing my nipple hard, with a gasp of pleasure and pain, until desire was the only idea I could hold onto, and my breath was nothing but ragged exhalations. Mulder pushed his large hands into the opening, spreading it open and palmed my tits, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs. I grabbed his hands, holding them there, in a tight grip, as I threw my head back and cried out in orgasm, still rocking against him.
After the waves of pleasure started to recede, I slumped forward, held up by his hands braced against my chest. Then I pushed them down and leant forward to kiss him. It is slow and languid, even better and hotter than the kisses we shared in the elevator, and we nipped and licked and explored, as if we had all the time in the world, despite his need that I could feel digging into my belly.
I was less patient than he was, it seemed, and that made me smile, as I broke the kiss and began to shimmy down the length of his body. I bit and kissed a wandering path, across his jaw, around his neck, where it was exposed above his collar, to his chest. I felt for the nubs of his flat nipples through his body suit, and bit down on them through the rubber, one at a time, following each with long, firm strokes of my tongue. He threw his head back and his hands came up to tangle in my hair to hold me in place. I lifted my head and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, until he said, “Scully,” in a soft whisper, and dropped his hands back to the bed.
“Fox,” I answered back and reached down between his legs, firmly rubbing the base of my palm against his erection until he was arching into my touch. I fumbled a bit, looking for the hidden zipper that I knew was there, and eased it open, freeing his hard cock from its tight confines. He shuddered a bit, with a hissing breath, as it sprang free, and I wrapped my hand tightly around the base of his shaft to keep him grounded, at least for a bit longer.
“Dana, please…” I smiled at him, tenderly, enthralled by how vulnerable and open he was for me, and settled back to my knees, to take him into my mouth. I slowly slid my lips down his shaft, and let my red hair fall forward to brush against his exposed skin and black rubber. I could taste the tangy pre-come already gathering on the thick head of his cock, and I worked it with my tongue, swallowing it down, and coaxing more out of him.
This time, when he fisted my hair in his fingers, I didn’t stop him, instead I swallowed him down as far as I could and felt him start to swell even more against the back of my throat. I caught his balls in my hand and rolled them slightly, pulling them away from his body, so that he wouldn’t come too soon, even as I pressed up with my fingertips against his perineum, massaging his prostate.
Involuntarily, his hips rose, and I backed off a bit, so that he wouldn’t choke me, and let him fuck my mouth. Broken little sounds of begging flowed from his lips, and I could feel my own arousal building again, until I was so wet that I felt like I was dripping.
I released his cock and sat up slightly, pulling off my panties, and kicking them away. I needed to feel him inside of me. I took out a condom and quickly slid it down his length before I knelt over him again, and spread my legs. Then, I used my hand to guide him to where I needed him. We both moaned as his cock entered me, stretching and filling me up, like this was exactly where we belonged. I rose up and let myself fall, over and over.
His hands were on my breasts and his cock was in my cunt, sliding in and out of the wetness that we had created, as he met me thrust for thrust. I fell forward and buried my face in his neck, holding on to his hair, clutching him tightly, and I moaned against his skin. His hands slid down to grip my ass as he thrust harder and deeper up into me. I cried out as we found our rhythm and dug my nails into his strong shoulders, through the rubber. Moments later, I began to shudder, and call his name. “Fox. Fox. Fox.” It was like a litany, and I couldn’t think of anything else, as my body clenched around him, over and over, and I came undone in his arms.
He pushed up hard, one last time, and pulled me down, grinding our pelvises together and sending more shockwaves through my clit, as he cried out, “Dana!” and emptied himself inside of me, into the condom. I collapsed onto his chest and he wrapped his arms around me so tightly that I couldn’t have moved, even if it wasn’t for the lassitude I felt as we lay there in a sweaty, sticky mess. I reached up and lightly pushed his hair out of his face, and placed a kiss on his forehead. He just gave a soft, rumbling sound and a lazy smile.
I disentangled from him just enough to help dispose of the condom, and pull the sheets down and up over our bodies. He pulled me close, and I lay my head on his chest, drawing abstract patterns on the rubber with my fingertips and wondering where we went from here, or if this would all just seem like a dream come Monday, one more unexplained mystery to file away.