Two to Tango
by JHJ Armstrong
13 January 2000
Rating: Most definitely NC-17. Heck, probably more like NC-482. Kiddies, stay
away!
Content: MSR. Explicit sex between two consenting adults. Slightly schmoopy, a
little bent. But so am I, so we're ok, then.
Summary: Mulder and Scully become partners in every sense of the word. Sequel to
"Dancing Fool" and "He Wore A Fedora." Find both at index.html.
Distribution: Anywhere. Just keep the headers attached.
Feedback: Solemnly read and graciously replied to at [email protected]
Disclaimer: Ha. As if. At least with me they get some nooky. (I was a tad
disappointed in "Orison," can you tell? Not that I thought they would
kiss again, but some contact, ANY contact, would have been nice.) No, they're
not mine.
To Becky again, for really and truly begging. The underground: You're welcome
for the nooner. And Alicia K. and TBishop, Exley and Kelly, I appreciate you
guys more than words can say. The rest of the notes got a bit long, so find 'em
at the end.
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Hyatt Regency
Washington, D.C.
Room 1751
"Mulder ... you can leave your hat on ..."
He chuckles and kisses me again, thoroughly and deeply, carrying me past
mirrored closet doors to a king-size bed that sits on a wooden dais about a foot
off the ground. A soft, white comforter covers it.
I drop his glasses on the table as we pass it, then knock his hat off and wind
both my hands through his hair. He's been letting it grow, so it's just long
enough to really get a grip. It's still a little stiff from the gel.
"Hey, partner, your hair's all sticky-outy," I tell him as he sets me
down on the bed.
He gives me the alpha-male look as only Mulder can, and asks, "Is that a
technical term, Scully?" I stick my tongue out at him, feeling playful, and
his eyes narrow.
He moves to the edge of the bed, planting himself like a panther about to
pounce. "Agent Scully," he says, his voice a rumble-growl with a touch
of sugar, "I think you're guilty of insubordination."
Lightning-quick, he grabs a leg in each hand and pulls me toward him. The down
bedspread offers no resistance, and my momentum puts me squarely against his
erection, which I can feel even through his wool suit.
It also hikes up my dress, and his face goes from dominating to feral when he
sees I'm not wearing any underwear.
"Oh my God, Scully," he whispers, and as fast as he pulled me against
him he pushes me away, falls to his knees and buries his face between my legs.
I brace for a tongue attack, but he simply breathes deeply, shuddering as he
inhales, which arouses me even more than if he'd started licking. "You
smell just incredible, Scully. Sweet. Intoxicating." Sparks of pleasure
shoot through me at his words.
He turns his head and backs up, placing feather-light kisses on my right thigh
near my knee as his hands curve around the outside of my calves, kneading the
muscles. His tongue flicks out, giving my skin the tiniest lick, then he nips at
the spot. I gasp, and my hips buck involuntarily. He licks and nips a few more
times, then turns his attention to the left thigh.
He slowly continues his way up, switching from left to right, sucking and
licking and biting and nuzzling, until he is millimeters away from where I so
badly want him to be. My skin is tingling, my thighs burning slightly from
stubble friction.
He takes one finger and gently traces up from ass to clit, barely making contact
with me, and I want to writhe right off the bed in ecstasy. He does it again and
again, a little more pressure each time, progressing to firm sweeps with the pad
of his index finger with little circles around my clit at the top. I want to tell him what his touch is doing to me, how crazy he's making me, but all I
manage is a guttural, drawn-out "Uuuunnnggghhh."
"I take it you approve?" Gee, Mulder, I hope you can read body
language, because my higher brain function seems to have shut off.
Knowing my silence is his answer, he lowers his head and starts making long,
slow strokes with the flat of his tongue. He alternates with flutter licks and
sucking, then gets his fingers involved, first rubbing and then pumping them in
and out, setting up an exotic, erotic rhythm that makes me arch my back and
thrust my hips to meet his hand and mouth.
I am panting, I am moaning, I am crying out his name, I am one gigantic nerve
ending waiting for just the right touch and he gives it and I am a rock in a
raging rapids, stationary while the water crashes around me, yet touched and
changed by each wave. The sensations leave me senseless, hazy.
While I come back to myself a little, Mulder stands, takes off his jacket, and
climbs up on the bed next to me. I smile weakly as his face appears next to
mine. He licks his lips as if he's trying to get every last drop of me. It's
sexy as hell.
Then he kisses me. After a bit, I finally have enough strength to put my arms
around his neck and touch my tongue to his lips, gently probing, asking
permission though I know I'll get it.
His mouth opens, our tongues touch, but the kiss stays gentle. We lay on our
sides, content to explore each other's mouths for now, moving on to ears and
necks and other assorted parts when the mood takes us.
We kiss for what seems like hours, going from simmer to boil degree by degree.
We roll around on top of the bed, hands reaching as far as possible without
breaking lip contact. Some time later, Mulder lifts his head and says ...
----------------------------------------------
"Clothes. Off." My voice is steady, but I seem to only be able to
speak caveman. Scully spares me from further thought by going to stand at the
foot of the bed, crooking a come-hither finger at me while she unzips her dress
in the back. I oblige, flopping over and landing on my stomach with my arms
hanging over the edge of the bed.
Just as I raise my head, she drops the dress. My jaw drops with it.
Dana Scully is not wearing a single thing under her dress. Her breasts are just
about at eye level, and I gaze at them hungrily, seeing a blush tint her whole
body as she sees my reaction. I lift my eyes to her face, taking in the
mussed-up hair, kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
She smiles, a sudden, brilliant, loopy smile, and puts her hands on her hips.
"Your turn. Get naked so I can ogle you."
I actually spring off the bed to stand in front of her. She looks up, all the
love in her world directed at me. I kiss her, softly and sweetly, as she
proceeds to desuit me.
When I am wearing nothing but the crimson g-string, she stops, puts her hands on
my abs and slowly pushes me away. Looking me up and down, she nods in approval. "Very nice, Mulder. Very, very nice. Did
I tell you how good you looked downstairs?"
"No. You didn't."
She smiles. "You looked *really* good. But you forgot to do
something."
Uh-oh. That tone of voice equals trouble. "What do you mean?"
"You didn't come get my donation." She turns around to pick up her
dress, giving me a terrific view of her toned little derriere, extracts a $20
bill from a little pocket sewn into a side seam and starts walking toward me.
Woof. The closer she gets, the harder I get. The three-inch heels accentuate the
strong lines of her legs, and she does this little shoulder-swagger thing that
makes all the right parts jiggle in the all the right places.
By the time she is standing in front of me, I am at full mast and bursting out
of the g-string. She runs one perfectly manicured, pale pink fingernail across
my left collarbone and down the middle of my chest, her mouth immediately
tracing her finger's path.
She crouches instead of going to her knees, and I can smell her when she spreads
her legs. It's almost enough to make me forget the direction her tongue is
headed. Almost.
She puts her hands on my thighs for balance as she gets lower. Curling the tip
of her tongue around the skinny elastic strap, she pulls it away from my hip and
holds the money against my skin. She lets the strap snap back, then sits back on
her haunches, just ... looking.
"Like what you see?" A corner of her mouth quirks up, and she nods
vigorously. Her eyes never leave my cock. She runs her left hand up the outside
of my right thigh; at the same time, her right hand comes up to cup my balls.
She grazes them with her fingernails, and my whole body shivers involuntarily.
Satisfied with my reaction to her touch, she smiles. Addressing her comments to
my cock, she says, "Mulder, I assume you've had a blow job before."
"Well, yes. Several." Where is she going with this?
Her laughter is joyful, infectious, with a tinge of wickedness. Two small fists
grab hold of the g-string's side straps. A yank rips it off me, and I stand
totally exposed. A flick of the wrist sends it flying over her left shoulder.
"I bet you've never had one like this."
With that, she wraps hand and mouth around me. My knees buckle, my head swims.
"Oh, God. GOD. Oh. OhGodohGodohGod ... "
---------------------------------------------------------
Below my head, I sense the quivering of Mulder's legs. Above my head, his is
thrown back and he is mumbling something about God. I'm tempted to laugh, but I
concentrate on the task at hand, thinking about how much we're both going to
enjoy this.
As I go to work with lips, hand and tongue, I think to myself that Mulder's cock
is the perfect size for a blow job. Not too thick, not too thin. Long enough to
justify a helping hand, short enough that I can get most of it in my mouth with
a deep, open-mouthed stroke. Not too much hair, either, just kind of a fuzz.
Like I said, perfect.
I've been told that a good blow job is all in the intent. Sure, a limber tongue
and a hard-to-trigger gag reflex help, but when a woman likes giving head and
lets it show, which I do, it really gets a guy going.
And knowing the physiological and psychological components of arousal doesn't
hurt. I know, too, that Mulder's turned on by my knowledge of such things. In
fact, I'm willing to bet that if I stepped back and catalogued what's happening
in his body right now, using my cool, detached scientist's voice, he'd come on
my command. I won't, of course, but it's something to consider for the future.
I've wondered for a long time what Mulder's cock would look like, feel like,
taste like. To finally have him, to know the reality, is wonderful. So my intent
is to make him wild, crazy out of his mind with desire. Then we'll hop back on
the bed and have mad, passionate, animalistic sex until neither one of us
can move.
I kneel so I can get better leverage. Getting as much of his cock into my mouth
as I can, I hollow out my cheeks and suck for all I'm worth, pumping up and down
slowly. I pay close attention to his reaction, so I know when to keep going and
when to change pace.
Once he has recovered from the initial onslaught, I speed up just a bit,
lessening the suction. On each downstroke, I swirl my tongue around the bottom
of his cock, flicking the underside of the head with the tip of my tongue at the
end of each upstroke.
Changing pace again, I stroke the bottom half with my hand, keeping time with my
mouth on the upper half. I glance up at him to see how he's doing, pleased to
note the sweat on his forehead and the way he's biting his lip -- whether it's
to keep from crying out or coming, I'm not sure.
I don't want him to come, but I do want him on the edge of control, so I switch
to fast and furious with mouth only, wrapping my arms around his legs and
pressing my breasts into his thighs. He moans, a long, drawn-out nonsense
syllable, and grabs my shoulders, barely restraining himself from driving into
me.
I touch his balls again, feeling the way they have tightened, and when he shouts
"Scully!" I know it's time to move on.
Abruptly, I break free, waiting until he looks down at me, chest heaving and
hazel eyes blazing. Never breaking eye contact, I lick from the base of his cock
to the tip, swirling my tongue around the head. I stand, letting my nipples
graze his body all the way up.
"Meet you at the bed." I move toward it ...
-----------------------------------------------
... and I scoop her up, throw her on the bed, climb up, latch my mouth onto her
left breast and drive into her as deep and as hard as I can go.
She is wet and warm, smooth and tight. Her back arches, the walls of her vagina
squeeze and ripple around me. She cries out, calling my name, one thrust, then
another, both of us bucking like prize bulls at a rodeo.
I keep grinding into her, leaning up on one elbow and reaching between us to rub
her clit while she uses both hands to play with her nipples and breasts. Her
head tosses, mouth open; she seems ready to explode at any moment.
One particularly deep and hard stroke, and she comes noisily, completely,
shaking and sweating all at once.
I lean forward on my elbows, kiss her shoulder and idly stroke her hair until
she has quieted a little. A few quick thrusts, just to hear her gasp again, and
I rest for a moment myself.
Her fingers comb through my hair, and she giggles. "It's still all sticky-outy.
But I like it."
"I'll show you sticky-outy." I start to stroke in and out again,
gradually increasing the pace, changing the angle of my thrusts, watching her
face. Beautiful. She grabs my ass and smiles.
"What?"
Her smile broadens. "Oh, nothing ... I was just picturing you doing this
while you were dancing downstairs. The reality is much better."
"Same here." I slow again, kissing her mouth. She directs me to her
breasts, and I run my tongue around each nipple in turn, nibbling on one while
pinching the other, then kneading with my hands. She is soon writhing and
squirming beneath me.
I have slipped out of her in the meantime, so I choose this moment to slip right
back in. We both moan at the re-establishment of contact.
Her right hand flops up to lay next to her ear, and I grab it with my left,
intertwining our fingers and using them to provide leverage for a little extra
"oomph" at the end of each thrust.
We move at a steady, moderate tempo, and it seems to be just what I needed
because I am suddenly on the edge, virtually unable to hold back. "Scully
..." I manage to say.
She opens her eyes and looks at me, blue pools of passion. "Yes, Mulder. Come
inside me."
With her permission I let go, and squeezing her hand tightly, I switch to
autopilot, letting my orgasm overpower me, thrusting deeply until I am spent,
shuddering and sated.
I collapse, and her arms go around my shoulders. We stay like that for a minute
or two.
Then, my innate smart-ass comes to life, and I have to ask. "So, did you
come?"
She tells me with a look the answer to that, and I grin the grin of a
well-loved, happy man. Hey, I may ordinarily be a melancholy SOB, but even we
melancholy SOBs know when to live in the moment.
This moment is all about Scully, and I'm thankful she seems to feel the same way
about me.
------------------------------------------------
He pulls me back against the pillows with him, tucking my head against his
shoulder. I breathe in sex-scented Mulder, sigh and snuggle in contentedly.
"Scully, I was wondering ..."
"Yes?"
"You're not gonna start calling me Fox now, are you?"
"Of course not, Mulder." I wrap an arm around his middle. "Let's
get some sleep."
"Mm-kay." A few minutes pass, then, "Um, Scully?"
I wake just enough to say, "This better be good."
He swallows. "I love you, Scully. With all my heart. Forever."
I look up at his face, melting at the honest, naked emotion I see there.
Nodding, I tell him, "Forever. And a day."
-- 30 --
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feedback to [email protected]
thanks for playing in the sandlot with me
Random eructations: The long-awaited, much-anticipated sequel to "Dancing
Fool" and "He Wore a Fedora!" Okay, so five of you wrote to say
you'd never read another word of mine if I didn't come through with the smut.
Here 'tis. Sorry for the sappiness at the end. It just wouldn't finish any other
way. :P No all-star cast this time, just our two intrepid agents. And a bed.
Go home