THE FOOT-TO-JOHNSON RATIO
By Jacquie LaVa
MSR, NC-17, a little humor, a little angst - 
Spoiler-free

Summary:  A bathroom, gossiping women and a 'need-to-know'...


"The Foot-to-Johnson Ratio" 


It's said that eavesdroppers never hear anything good about
themselves.  This has invariably been true in my life, for 
every time I have eavesdropped - either by intention or 
innocently - I have usuallyheard some sort of ill spoken 
against me.

But this time I wasn't eavesdropping on anything about myself... I
was listening in on a conversation that had everything to do with my
partner.

And blushing like mad, in the process.

I should have known better; after all this was the bathroom closest
to the administrative pool. It's always crowded any given time of the
day and early afternoon right-after-lunch is no exception. I had
walked in when it was surprisingly empty, and before I could lay
toilet paper down on the seat and get myself settled, the small
lavatory filled up with a gaggle of women, just walking in from
lunch. They were loud and echoing in the tiled rest room - and their
topic of conversation, no doubt carried over from lunch - was firmly
locked on one Fox Mulder. My partner.

My soon-to-be-lover... and did I ever get an earful.

"Of course he's large! Haven't you ever noticed those feet? Size
thirteens, at the very least. I'd lay money our Agent Foxy is very
well-hung."

My jaw had come unhinged when I heard 'Agent Foxy'... and I'd
immediately started blushing. And listening in.

"Oh, for... Donna, that's a myth, an old wives' tale. The size of a
man's feet have nothing at all to do with the size of his equipment.
I've had several boyfriends with large feet and their wangs were
normal." The voice was irritated and familiar, but I couldn't quite
place it.

Donna, however - and I could picture her vaguely in my mind - wasn't
to be put off. "It's true - well, usually true! I'm telling you it's
an
excellent way of estimating size. My ex-fiance was hung quite
nicely, and he wore a size twelve shoe."

A snort from the irritated, familiar voice. "Oh yeah? Well, if he
was so very well hung, then why is he your 'ex'? I'd think you would
have wanted to hold on to his, um, size..."

"Well, I would have. But the man is a total moron, and besides, he
cheated on me with my sister."

A new voice chimed in, supporting Donna's theory, and as I
unashamedly continued to eavesdrop, I found myself more or
less forgetting why I'd come in the rest room in the first place.
"My money's on Donna's theory. Besides, I've seen Agent Mulder with
a, um, well, you know..." her voice dropped several decibels, "hard-
on..."

Several gasps and one or two hoots thankfully drowned out my own
involuntary gasp, and the room exploded into demands for instant
information.

"What? WHEN?"

"Carol, you never told ME that!"

"Details, woman! Details!"

Yes, Carol... how about some details? Agent Mulder's future 'woman'
would like to know, too...

Carol - and I was having a hard time placing her - chuckled a bit.
"Oh, relax. I didn't really SEE anything. I spotted him walking 
down the hall about two weeks ago, sporting what I'd call an 
impressive erection. He'd just gotten off the elevator, probably 
coming up from the basement. I gawked - a LOT - but he never 
looked at me and I'm sure he never saw me staring at him."

I had half risen from the seat while Carol had been talking; now I
sank back down, actually wiping beads of perspiration from my
forehead. Jesus, it was getting hot in here... for more than one
reason. Mulder, up from the basement, and erect? 

God... I'd just bet that was the morning he grabbed me when I came
in late - he'd kissed me that morning; in fact I remember quite well
just how long and hard he'd kissed me...

Carol spoke up again, and I found myself leaning forward on the damp
seat. "I'd say he's got to be pretty big if I can see it through a
pair of loose-fitting dress slacks. Besides, I'm with Donna. He DOES
have damned large feet. Which I personally have always found sexy on
a man."

The irritated, doubting voice emitted a brisk snort. "I'll believe
it when I see it. Maybe he pads his tighty-whiteys. My stupid older
brother used to do that when he went to school dances. He'd stuff
them with a pair of rolled up socks."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snickering, suddenly
picturing my brother Bill doing something just as dumb. And imagining
getting outted by not only his then-date, but one of the dance
chaperones, as well.

Donna spoke up again, her voice sounding dreamy. "I bet he wears silk
boxers. Not those tacky BVDs. A gorgeous man like Fox Mulder... boxers
would look so good on him.  That man has definitely been aptly
named, don't you think?"

Carol, again. "Well he's a fox, definitely.  And I know a way to
find out, not only about his underwear preference but the size of his
goods, as well. Let's send Barry into the men's room, have him check
out Agent Mulder's 'plumbing'. Barry's had a crush on Fox since day
one - he'd be more than happy to report back to us. He owes me a
favor, anyway."

"Barry Cooper? What, he's gay?" Donna sounded shocked.

"He's bi. Engaged to Lisa in Procurement, but that wouldn't stop him
from star-gazing at Mulder. Barry would do it in a heartbeat."

By now nothing in this world could have induced me to reveal myself
to these idiot women. I was practically holding my breath, not moving
a muscle. I had to hear it all, process it all... because I had a
date, tomorrow night. With Fox Mulder, my partner - and the owner of
possible size thirteen feet.

Images of sock-filled tighty-whiteys filled my reluctant brain,
along with a reassurance that at least I knew he wore boxers. Hard to
stuff loose boxer shorts...

I had enough inner decency to feel some shame at the way I was
listening in. Still, forewarned is forearmed, and truly I had a need
to know. Tomorrow night would probably be THE night, for Mulder and
me. Our relationship had been moving along at a rapid clip ever since
our first 'date' just a few weeks ago. I'd been pressed up against
his aroused frame several times, close enough to know that my partner
was not a small man. I'd seen him naked once or twice but never in
full-bloom... and I'd already thought about the possibility of him
being too large for me to handle. A little discomfort is sometimes
good, but a lot of pain at a time like that...

No way.

So, I listened until there was nothing left to hear - after Carol's
disclosure about Barry Cooper's willingness to help out, there
wasn't much else for the women to say, except plan out the details of
Barry's covert 'mission'... and when the room finally emptied, I rose
from the seat stiffly. I cautiously cracked open the stall door and
crept out. Looking in the mirror over the sinks, I saw one hell of a
blush on my cheeks and splashed some water on them, trying to cool
off.

And as I dried my face, I tried to imagine a sane way to approach my
partner and warn him about Barry and his little future 'look-see'. A
way to warn but also keep my own escalating curiosity and concern
under wraps - until I could see for myself the dimensions of the
Mulder 'equipment' I'd soon be dealing with.

******************

"Hey, Scully.  You all right?  You were gone a long time."

It took every ounce of self-control not to stare at my partner's
groin, as he stood in front of his desk regarding me with curious
concern.  Not to mention controlling my breathing, the blush factor
on my face - and still manage to look him in the eye with what I
prayed was a halfway normal gaze.  And I had to force that gaze not
to wander all over him, for Mulder did indeed look particularly...
good... today.

He was wearing a new suit; a charcoal gray wool that fit him
superbly.  I remembered his favorite gray suit had been ruined during
an unfortunate trek through a funky sewer in downtown Albany a few
months back, and how he'd mourned having to trash it when we left the
motel that morning.  Unfortunately, ruined clothes were a real
problem with this job.  I'd lost a few cherished outfits over the
years and I knew how he felt.  

But this suit really put the ruined one to shame; it fit him so
well.  Under it he wore a deep teal shirt, a different color for him,
but the darker tone brought out all kinds of interesting glints in
his eyes.  He'd shed the jacket and his sleeves were rolled up - and
he was wearing his glasses.  Leaning against his desk, long legs
crossed in front of him and his hands shoved into his pants pockets,
hair mussed a little, no doubt from running impatient fingers through
it...

Jesus.  And I was supposed to act as if I'd never heard a bathroom
discussion based on the size of his penis, versus the size of his
feet, which were encased in black Doc Martens and looking damned...
large.

"Scully, you're flushed.  Are you running a fever?  Here, sit down."
While I'd been standing there wide-eyed and dithering, Mulder had
taken matters into his own hand and had pulled out one of our visitor
chairs and was pressing me down into it.  I sank into the chair
feeling like a moron, acting more immature than those women in the
ladies room - while he laid a palm on my forehead.  God...

The feel of his warm skin against mine jolted me to life, and I
slapped his hand away, adopting instant attitude.  "Mulder, I'm fine!
I'm not running a fever.  I just ran down the stairs too fast."  What
a pitiful excuse...

Mulder's brows drew together in a frown.  "What, the elevator's out
of commission?  It was fine a few minutes ago when I went to the
men's room."  He moved away from me and resumed leaning against his
desk, still watching me.  As if I would combust any moment from any
manner of odd malady, I suppose - and suddenly his words registered
in my fogged-up brain, just as he added, "By the way, what's with
Cooper?  He kept staring at me in the john.  If I didn't know better
I'd swear he was trying to peek over the urinal and check out my
equipment..."

Oh, shit. Those damn women had sure moved fast...  

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, wondering what in hell I
could say, figured it best to say nothing, and then horrified myself
by blurting out, "Well, Mulder, you know Cooper is bi-sexual.  Maybe
he wants to gaze on you one last time, before the wedding..."

Mulder's jaw dropped.  My jaw dropped, compounded by the hand I
clapped over my mouth.  I jumped out of my chair, garbled out a
choking, "Excuse me," and I ran for the door.  

I was quick but Mulder was quicker... he somehow made it to the door
before I did and one hand shot out, grasping my arm.  He spun me
around until my back was to the door and I found my mortified gaze
hitting him at chest-level, as he retained hold of me.  When he
cleared his throat I reluctantly moved my gaze upward - and caught
the raised eyebrows and slightly flushed cheeks of a man who probably
had no clue in the world that other men lusted after him.

"WHAT did you say?"  His voice was mild but the tone was anything
but pleased.  Oh, hell...

I tried a small smile, barely lifting one corner of my mouth. 
"Mulder, it's no big deal.  So Barry Cooper thinks you're hot. 
Plenty of men find other men attractive, and from time to time become
curious about the size of... about their proportions.  He probably
noticed your shoes, and -"

That was as far as I got before I realized what in God's name I was
saying - and the way Mulder was reacting to what I'd said.  The look
on his face was priceless.  I felt not only my face flushing, but my
entire body had to be glowing, in complete and total embarrassment. 
And when those raised eyebrows ascended even higher and his
strangled, "My SHOES?!" reached my ears, I moaned - and I leaned my
forehead against his shoulder and sagged against him in defeat.  

I mumbled an incoherent, "Kill me, now..."

I could feel his shoulders shaking under my temple; Mulder was
fighting hard not to laugh.  I was too humiliated to see any humor in
the situation, however; I lifted my head and tried to pull away.  I
think I got maybe two inches in distance, before Mulder grasped my
arms and hung on.  I looked up and saw him shake his head
decisively.  

"Oh no, you don't.  You've been acting strangely since you got back
from wherever the hell you'd gotten yourself off to - exactly where
WERE you, anyway?"  He bent down a little, right into my face, and I
found myself unable to look away from him; unable to see anything but
those eyes, tucked behind glasses that made him look sexier than any
one man should ever look.  He was so hard to resist, and yet here I
was, trying to resist him.

I decided to be partially honest with him.  "I was in the bathroom,
Mulder.  I told you that.  While I was in there, I overheard...
something."  I glanced up at him again, saw that I had his undivided
attention... and gulped in a quick breath before continuing, "A few
women from the admin pool were discussing, um, you."

Mulder gaped at me, then stuttered out, "Me?  Why on earth would a
bunch of women stand around in a bathroom and gossip about me?"  When
I didn't answer right away, he prodded, "Scully?  What aren't you
telling me?"

It was very difficult to break his stare, but somehow I managed.  I
didn't want to tell him anything more.  I didn't want him to know I'd
purposely kept my presence secret in the bathroom stall,
eavesdropping - in effect showing myself as no better than those
gossips.

I didn't want Mulder to know how curious I was about his male
anatomy.  Somehow it just seemed so, well... petty.  I mean, I'd long
ago decided I was in love with this man, and had resigned myself to a
lifetime of being his best friend and confidante since it had
appeared we'd never progress to anything more.  Now that we'd finally
taken that step, and intimacy was only a date or so away... it was
just plain shallow of me to base any sort of acceptance on the size
of his 'packaging'.  I knew Mulder loved me for myself - and of
course I bounced that love right back to him.  Besides, I wasn't a
crotch-watcher.

Was I?

"Scully, you're stalling.  And you're avoiding my eyes, which is
always indicative of something more or less unpleasant.  Come on, out
with it.  What, did a few ladies from the third floor make fun of my
haircut?  Insult my ties?  Call me 'Spooky' again?  I'm used to it,
you know."  The little shake Mulder gave my shoulders told me there
wasn't a possibility of letting the matter drop.  The self-derisive
tone of his voice assured me he truly didn't have a clue when it came
to how other women viewed him.  And my inability to keep cool in the
face of his overwhelming attractiveness was surely indicative of yet
another woman who'd found her downfall in a pair of smoldering hazel
eyes and firm, full lips. 

Well, he'd rattled me.  I could count on one hand the number of
times I've been truly rattled in the course of my professional career
- and they all centered around FBI-Life-with-Mulder.  He had a way of
getting to me, and it had only intensified with the changes in our
relationship.

And I am, after all, just a woman.  How in hell could I resist Fox
Mulder when he looked like this, the lethal combination of mussed
hair, shirtsleeves, wire-rimmed eyeglasses, a hint of late-morning
jaw-stubble and warm, insistent hands grasping my shoulders?  I'd
have to be made of unyielding stone.  

Of course, I'm not... and of course, once I stared up into those
damned sexy eyes of his, I sang like a little birdie.  

"Before I tell you, you've got to promise not to go off the deep
end.  And not to twist this into something it isn't."  Good, good...
establish some ground rules first.  Nice touch, Dana.  Calm,
levelheaded.  

Worth less than spit, unfortunately - because Mulder actually paled,
and his eyes narrowed into two points of worry.  "Don't twist it
into... you know, I'm really hating the overall sound of this,
Scully.  I think you'd better talk fast, before I hike on up to the
third floor and ask them myself."

Oh, fuck!

I panicked, not even thinking there was no way Mulder could know
which women to accost; the third floor pool was full of them.  Women,
that is.  I saw the look he gave me; I know that look.  It's his look
of relentlessness, and it got me singing faster than a drunk canary
with diarrhea of the mouth.

"No!  God, Mulder... all right.  I overheard these women discussing
the size of your, uh, feet... in comparison to the relative size of
your, ah, penis.  One of them had seen you walking up from the
basement a few weeks ago... with an erection.  She indicated to the
others how impressive you, er, were - even under loose slacks."  I
chanced a peep up at him as I stammered it out, and I can't even
begin to describe the look on his face.  Hurriedly I finished, before
my shoulders went completely numb from the clutch of his fingers.

"One of the women was disbelieving of the other's claim, and still
another wanted to know if you wear boxers or briefs.  It culminated
in a decision to persuade Barry Cooper to catch you in the men's
room, check you out, and report back to them.  It was assumed he'd
jump at the chance, sort of a 'last hurrah' before his wedding."  I
ended the sentence in a weird little rush, then promptly did two
things I'll probably regret forever:  I flushed brick-red, right up
to my hairline, thinking of how I hung in that stall and soaked in
every word... and I giggled.  A nervous giggle, to be sure - but a
giggle all the same.

Mulder took grave exception, not to the flush, but to the giggle. 
Once again he pinned me in place with a frown and those damned all-
seeing eyes; hands still gripping me.  "Let me get this straight. 
You were in the ladies room, minding your own business, so to speak -
and you got stuck in a cubicle listening in, albeit unwillingly, to a
discussion perpetrated by several admin-type women concerning not
only the size of my Johnson but also the age-old question of whether
or not I wear boxers.  What, were they also jawing about the
possibility of me stuffing my shorts with something like a pair of
rolled-up socks?"  

The audible breath I sucked in at his accurate guess must have
really given me away, because Mulder emitted a disbelieving snort
into the air over my head, then locked eyes with me again.  "I don't
believe... Jesus, don't you women have anything better to do with
your time at work, than stand around in clusters, talking about
penises?"  

As soon as the words left his mouth I could tell Mulder was
regretting his sexist remark.  His eyes widened as mine narrowed -
and suddenly I was on the offensive and he was flushing like mad.

I let my voice lower and resonate with deadly silk.  "That's right,
Mulder.  It's all we think about in the workplace, day after boring
day.  We sit in our dull little offices and we conjure up in our
minds all of the men in the goddamned Hoover, eligible or not... and
at a pre-disclosed time and place we gather and we discuss."  

I leaned forward until both my hands were pressed against Mulder's
teal shirt; my voice dropped even more.  Suddenly I was feeling
damned aggressive, as I growled softly,  "Some days - like today, for
instance - we pick a man, just one certain man... and we dissect him,
body part by body part.  You just happened to be the homme de jour,
'Baby'... and let me say, you passed with flying colors.  According
to several women whose identities may never be revealed to you, Agent
Fox Mulder more than lives up to his name - and his shoe size."

As Mulder's flush reached his hairline I pushed away from him,
hunched off his restraining hands and crossed my arms over my chest,
glaring at him.  "Credit me with a few brain cells, would you please?
I was trapped in the damned stall.  I wasn't about to let those women
know of my presence, especially after I started getting an earful of
the hot topic at hand.  And do you have ANY idea how difficult it is
not to listen when you're in a bathroom and everyone's voice echoes
and bounces off the walls?"  I was righteously outraged and I could
tell I'd successfully drawn Mulder's attention away from the main
issue - that I'd not only listened in but had mentally joined in
those women's nonsense.

Then I made the monstrous error of blushing.  Again.  And Mulder's
vaguely contrite expression immediately waxed triumphant.

Damn it, I'd almost made it home free...

"Oh really, Scully?  'Difficult not to listen'. Gee, when I pay a
visit to the public thrones I mostly want to dump and go.  But not
you, huh?  Admit it.  You stayed there not because you didn't want to
get caught but because you wanted to hear what they were saying about
me.  You wanted to know."  Now Mulder was leaning in, way in - and I
was crammed in against the door, staring up at him, mute and vaguely
panicky - and growing reluctantly excited...

Reluctant because we were in our office and the door was most likely
unlocked and my partner had suddenly snatched the offensive clean
away from me.  And I was enough of a feminine woman to get a thrill
from the way he towered over me - and the feel of those sexy hands of
his, now framing my jaw.  I was also realistic enough to understand
Mulder couldn't possibly start something here that neither of us
could finish...

Boy, was I wrong.

Closer and closer, until I could smell the starchy cotton of his
shirt mixed with the light perspiration at arm-level.  Mulder usually
didn't bother with after-shave and truly he didn't need it, his
personal scent was always so appealing to me.  Especially now that I
swear I could detect the tinge of his own excitement, a less than
civilized base under a thin veneer of modern, educated male.

Male... almost too much so.  Mulder was, at times, just too damn
much - and now was one of those times.  

Closer still, now his chest was pushing into me and I could feel his
heart thudding behind that wall of muscle.  His face swam into my
blurred vision, eyes dilated behind his wire frames.  When he let the
rest of his body sink into mine, when I felt the heat of him through
his wool slacks and my thin skirt; when I registered the hard length
of him edged along the jut of my hipbone and knew that everything
Carol-of-the-restroom had said was true, so true...  my eyes closed
and a low moan escaped my tingling lips.

Tingling because Mulder's thumbs were caressing them, and the look
in his eyes was dissolving my bones from the inside out.  Without a
word between us he was branding me, and I couldn't help but think
that it was about damned time... Through half-closed eyes I watched
the emotion flit across his face, saw the intense way his gaze
traveled over me, fingers trailing across every place his look
scorched.  Along my collarbones, up the sides of my neck to wind
themselves in my hair... 

When he used those tangled fingers to bring my mouth closer and his
lips covered mine, I was lost.  Any feeble protest I might have made
about this sort of unseemly behavior in a professional environment
went out the damned window.  I wound my arms around his waist and
fisted my hands in that deep teal shirt of his - and I hung on for
dear life.

There are kisses, and there are kisses that go beyond the mere touch
of lips and tongues.  Just a few weeks ago Mulder had kissed me hard
and long enough to break him out in one serious erection - impressive
enough to attract the attention of Carol, FBI's prize crotch watcher.
This kiss was nothing like it; this kiss went over the top of
anything we'd experienced so far.  Two weeks ago we had a delicious
taste of each other... today the kiss we shared flamed between us so
quickly and so hotly that it was a wonder our skins didn't combust.

Deep.  Wet.  Slow and gentle, then urgent, greedy.  His tongue was
everywhere, flicking here and plunging there, giving me no
opportunity to breathe - as if I actually cared whether or not I'd
ever again suck in oxygen.  My legs had buckled somewhere around that
first tongue-plunge and Mulder's hands had slipped from my hair to my
waist, holding me up.  At one point my eyes fluttered open, mere
slits - I had to know if his look matched the fire I felt, here in
his arms.  I raised dazzled eyes to him, and trembled to see his own
eyes open, dark and intense, staring down at me, through me, inside
me.

Jesus...

I think I might have broken the kiss first, or maybe we both decided
we needed air to remain standing upright.  Mulder dragged his mouth
away and buried it in my neck, his roughened jaw no doubt marking my
skin.  I didn't care.  At that moment I barely knew my own name, much
less the hindsight to worry about the condition of my neck and the
possibility of whisker-burn.  Both of us were panting for breath, the
rush of air through our lungs loud in the quiet office.

Mulder's lips brushed my ear and the words he rasped made me
shudder.  "You wanted to know.  What's in my jeans, behind my dress
slacks, underneath the boxers you know I wear.  You wondered how big
it is, and you hung out in that stall and listened in.  You were
curious, Scully... admit it.  Well, now you know.  What you do to
me... what I feel every time I'm anywhere near you.  When we're apart
and I'm thinking about you, dreaming of being with you.  Admit it,
baby - you eavesdropped because you had to know."

I couldn't speak, I could only nod, the motion of my head causing my
now-sensitive earlobe to slip against his mouth.  I cleared my
throat, managed to croak out a few words.  "Yes.  I did exactly that -
I stayed hidden and I listened.  I wanted to know."  I let go of his
shirt and slid both palms down his back, brushed them over his tight,
rounded ass; maneuvered them over his hips and around to the front,
cupping him.  It was the first time I'd touched him so intimately; he
groaned out my name, the names of several deities and at least one
curse, as he thrust into my hands.  Through layers of material his
flesh was unyieldingly hard and thick.  And as I let my hands learn
his shape, I swear I experienced a flash of those feet of his,
encased in shiny Doc Martens... 

I smiled against my partner's shoulder - and suddenly I felt years
younger, as if this might be my first time ever with a man.  And I
realized something:  when it's time, it's time.  It didn't matter
that we weren't in a comfortable bed somewhere in some romantic
locale.  It mattered even less that we were standing shoved into the
door of our basement office in the middle of the work day.  It didn't
even matter that the frigging door might be unlocked... it was time
and that's all that counted.  I knew it.  So did Mulder.

However, that sensible, practical side of me roused enough of itself
to mumble breathlessly, "Mulder, is the door locked?"  

His reply was muffled between my breasts, hot breath soaking into my
silk blouse.  "Yes, no, hell, who the fuck cares! -"  He raised his
head and his eyes blazed into mine for one scorching stare, before
his hand tugged at the buttons in his way, baring enough of me to
kiss.  The front clasp of my bra gave out under his determined
fingers and the cool air of our office hit my skin for perhaps a
second, before his lips covered my nipple.  The feel of his mouth on
my skin made me clench all over; my hands tightened on his fly and
before I could fully comprehend my own actions I had him unzipped and
my fingers were delving inside and finding bare, hard Mulder.

Bare, hard, large Mulder...  God.

I trailed my nails along the satiny length of him, ran a thumb over
the damp tip.  I could smell him, the musk that was always vaguely
discernable whenever we stood close to each other, that indefinable
scent of warm male that every woman finds irresistible.  Combined
with what my fingers were telling me, I could picture Mulder's
'Johnson', as he so politely referred to himself - could conjure it
in my head.  The vision I created almost sent me reeling...

Thick.  Silk-tender skin over steel-hard flesh.  Long, broad at the
tip and heavy at the base.  Hot with blood, pulsing with life,
throbbing with need - need for me, for my touch, the sheath of my
body.  A soft nest of hair protecting his tight, firm sac - oh yes,
there it was, all of it in my hands and stamped upon my senses,
behind my closed eyes.  There are women who will try telling you that
the sight of a man's penis makes them giggle.  Some will tell you
that of all the sights on a man's body the penis is the silliest-
looking, the most obscene, the one thing they try to avoid looking
at.  Yet they stare, they imagine and they probably drool, even as
they protest their fascination.

Utter bullshit.

I think a woman worth the respect of her gender and with an
appreciation of a man's body might instead wax poetic about the
beauty of the male animal, for as in other species that particular
animal is by far the better-looking.  It had been a very long time
since I'd had the pleasure of touching a man, learning him in this
fashion.  And in my life I've seen - and dated - some handsome men. 
But never in my life had I ever been fortunate enough to find a man
who stimulated me in all the right places, who shone out as that
perfect specimen not only on the outside but inside as well, where it
counted the most.  A man who loved me truly, who understood me and
was kind enough to laugh off the prissier side of my personality and
encourage me to relax, have fun... be naughty, right in our so-
professional atmosphere.

And so I did just that; I relaxed into the door and took Mulder with
me, let him hold me up, lick at my skin, explore my body - the same
way I investigated his. While the clock ticked out the rest of our
morning and the door may or may not have been locked behind my
suddenly-bared ass, while I'd been dreaming up in my mind what my
hands were holding, Mulder had managed to hike up my skirt and
dispose of most of my panties and hose.  

The feel of the cool metal door against my cheeks made my eyes pop
open,  but I still felt relaxed... until Mulder dropped to his knees
as his flesh slipped from my grasp.  I looked down in a daze, saw him
grinning up at me, flushed and happy... and I realized his intent,
and panicked.  I didn't - I usually wouldn't - it had been way too
long since -

My brain-sputtering translated into squeaky words as his palms
curved over my hips.  "Mulder, I can't - I don't - you don't have to -
"  God, my face had to be flaming by now!   I could feel the heat of
it.  

The hands cupping me slid under my cheeks, holding me in place; I
hadn't realized I'd been trying to squirm away. The expression on
Mulder's face was so tender, the adoration in his eyes so palpable
that it made my heart pound.  I stopped trying to pull away, instead
finding myself leaning into him.  I rested a hand on his hair and the
smile he sent up to me was like a balm to my insecure emotions.

Of course I knew once we became intimate, Mulder would know every
secret inch of my body.  I wanted him to.  I am no raving beauty but
what I do possess is well-tended and kept as attractive as possible. 
He's been as curious about my body as I've been for his.  And I may
act the priss from time to time, but I don't consider myself a prude.
However, when I pictured us together like this, I never figured he'd
want to do... that.  

At least, not our first time.

I must have spoken out loud, because Mulder chuckled and pressed his
mouth to the skin right below my navel, his words nuzzling at me. 
"Of course I want to.  Everything, Scully - I want it all.  Need it
all.  For years, I've wanted to see what was underneath your clothes.
Wanted to touch, inhale, taste."  He ran a gentle bottom lip along
the skin right above my hairline, scattering tiny kisses, before
adding, "I'd look at those dainty little feet of yours, and could
only fantasize about how delicate you'd be, all over.  I'd think
about licking the utter delicacy of you - and I'd be so hard I'd end
up in pain."  He grinned against the curve of my stomach and what he
said made me blush and giggle helplessly even as desire stabbed
through me.

Pure lust, as well - because Mulder had wondered, too.  He'd tried
to imagine me, based on the size of my feet.  Just as I'd done to
him...

I had to give him grief for that.  "Mulder, I have a feeling that in
this case your 'Foot-to-Johnson' ratio is much more impressive than
my 'Instep-to-Harriet' quotient."  I locked eyes with him as I named
my own private parts, and his delighted guffaw was music to my ears.

"'Instep-to-Harriet', huh?  Oh, Scully... you're so naughty,
actually giving your sweet little equipment a name.  I like it."  He
nipped at my navel then soothed the nip with his tongue, and let it
stay out and play.  I fought down yet another blush and just
concentrated on the feel of his mouth - his tongue.  Maybe it wasn't
the ideal place to come together this way but for us it was perfectly
right, somehow.  

I pushed away the world outside our basement door, the hectic pace
evident on multiple floors above us, and I allowed myself to feel. 
Soak it in, all of it, the magical pace of desire that I'd so missed
all these years - and I knew I'd been waiting a very long time for
the right instigator.  I'd been waiting for Mulder.  I gave my body
over to his keeping and focused on the way he cherished me, the feel
of his devotion. 

The feel of his love... that's what I focused on most of all.

When he kissed his way to the juncture of my thighs, I tensed a
little but let him part me, shuddering under the heat of his lips. 
When his clever fingers found me and his tongue opened me further, I
grasped handfuls of his dark hair and held him close to me.  It had
been so very long I thought, as my blurred eyes stared down at the
head moving against me.  So long since I had wanted a man there,
invading me in a  most intimate manner, drinking me in this way.  I'd
had relationships with men who thought orally stimulating a woman was
a task and not a pleasure, who rushed through it with little regard
for me, and in a hurry to get to what they considered their main
event.  With Mulder it was so very different, not only because it was
evident he enjoyed doing this to me - but that he did it with love.  

His hands steadied me when I felt myself melting right off my feet;
I slid down as my knees gave out.  Mulder pressed his erection into
my calf as I stood rubbery-legged, and the hot feel of him on my
sensitive skin was almost more than I could take.  I wanted him
inside me, all that lovely pulsing flesh... If ONLY there could have
been a way to have both at once, his talented tongue and that strong
penis, both inside me, together... I could picture it in my mind, and
it was that lasting image that sent me flying; that image I took with
me when I shuddered and climaxed. It had happened so quickly, I'd
never come so fast before -

"Mulder..."  Was that my voice, weak and thin and an octave higher? 
I slumped back against the door, every muscle in my body like mush. 
With one final open-mouthed kiss to my swollen clit, Mulder released
my hips and caught me when I toppled forward.  His hands had been the
only thing keeping me on my delicate little feet...

"That was... Jesus, baby... that just WAS."  Apparently my partner
was also at a loss for words.  I found myself off my feet, cradled in
his arms, my damp center flush against the most impressive 'Johnson'
I'd ever had the fortune of experiencing - and suddenly the energy
he'd drained from me came surging back.  

Looking up into Mulder's eyes I saw more love, twice as much as I'd
seen before he'd made love to me.  I wanted to give it all back,
right back to him, just as deeply.  I wanted to taste him, smell him,
wanted the soft hairs of his groin against my cheeks, wanted to cup
his balls, stroke him up one side and down the other, nibble that
throbbing vein on the underside, lave the head, make him as mine as
he'd made me his.   I wanted to drive him insane, make him bury his
hands in my hair and pull at it as he thrust into my mouth - and I
wanted to watch his eyes glaze over when he came.  I wanted it.

I like to get what I want... 

Carefully I gained my feet, wriggling a little so that Mulder would
put me down.  We shared deep kisses, the taste of myself on his
tongue foreign and tart.  I shot all of my desire to him in that
kiss, all of the overwhelming emotion he'd put me through.  My hands
mapped his skin and my lips followed, over his ribs, the ridged
stomach and the tight belly, the planes of his pelvic bone and the
small tight roundness of his cheeks.  As I ran my hands over his body
I maneuvered him until he now stood with his back to the door,
finding seductive power in the way he allowed himself to be
manipulated.

Sinking to my knees before him, I nudged his legs apart and smiled
at the feel of his penis bobbing lightly against my jaw; I sat back
on my heels for a few moments and just stared at him - seeing him at
last.  No more hiding in the cave of his boxers, no more guessing
based on nothing more than my palms and my imagination.

God... he was magnificent, I could think of no better word.  I
conceded that Donna and Carol - the ladies room informants - had 
been right on the money... my Mulder was most assuredly a fox.  
And I was one damned lucky woman.

My mouth hanging open a little, the weight of him in my hand, I
stared...

Dark and pulsing with life and with blood, just as I'd imagined. 
Thick and wide and satiny and steely, long of length and broad of
head, with a tight and heavy sac that felt wonderful in my cupped
palm.  Silky hair, silky skin.  Hot flesh just waiting for me to
take...

I took.  

He slipped into my throat with a strangled groan, fingers threading
in my hair, palms flat against my scalp.  I glanced up and saw the
look in his eyes, the dilated irises and the beginnings of glazed
awareness.  A flush high on his cheeks, Mulder bit at his lip as I
took him deeper, as deep as I could go.  I wrapped my fingers around
the base and let my other hand play with his balls; he groaned with
every small movement I made.  

He tasted delicious; here was that musk I adored, concentrated and
going straight to my head as I kept him right on the edge with my
mouth and tongue.  I could feel the pressure start to build inside me
as I moved my mouth over him, as I swirled my tongue and caressed
him.  It was as if I made love to myself through the things I did to
him and it took me unawares. I felt as if I could climax just on the
strength of what I made him feel. Never in the past had I been able
to climax twice, but if anyone could stimulate me like this with
nothing more than the thrust of his penis in my throat, Mulder could. 

And as if he could somehow sense what was happening to me, the hands
he'd buried in my hair tightened and his voice groaned out a thick
plea, the first words he'd spoken since we began our mutual
discovery.  "Scully... God, it's... I can feel... touch yourself,
touch it, do it..."  

The shock of his request startled me and my eyes snapped open wide.
I stared up into his face and in a haze saw the need there, for me to
find a way to come with him.  I'd never done anything like that
before during sex; couldn't imagine my own hands on me when the man I
made love with could be doing it, should be doing it.  

And yet... and yet... I couldn't stop taking him deep, wouldn't move
one inch to put my aching center within reach of his hands because it
might change the angle, make it less than amazing for him.  And
besides, I wanted to do it, I realized.  I wanted to put my fingers
against my own clit and pretend they were his, and I wanted to watch
his eyes when he knew I was doing it, when we came at the same time,
connected in one small place and bound so much deeper on another
level.

I slipped my hand from the cup of him, ran it down my body and
probed until I found my clit; I kept my eyes locked on his and my
mouth moving hungrily on his delicious flesh. And I'd only given
myself three tentative strokes when the eruption of his semen in my
mouth and his raspy shout of my name pushed me hard and fast over the
cliff once again.  I moaned around the pulse of him, barely believing
how erotic it felt.  Incredible...  

I released him and fell back on the floor; my legs were like rubber.
My knees ached from kneeling and the muscles of my thighs trembled. 
Mulder managed to keep his feet for about two seconds longer than I
did, before he slid down the door.  I reached out two weak hands and
grasped his neck, pulling him to me, over me.  He came down into the
cradle of my hips and if I'd had any leftover strength I would have
wrapped my legs around his waist.  But I was weaker than a day-old
kitten.  I just wanted his skin on mine and his unsteady breath in my
ear.   

He felt so good... I could have stayed there forever, on the hard
floor of our office with Mulder's weight pressing into me.  I turned
my head and he raised his; we smiled into each other's eyes tenderly.
I knew I was blushing and likewise Mulder's cheeks were a bit pink as
well.  I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how wonderful he
was, how I couldn't wait until we got the hell out of the office and
jumped into the first available bed we could find.  I wanted him
inside me, pounding all that lovely hardness deep within me, even
though I was shaking and sore and satiated from my 'double-header'.  

I never considered myself sexually greedy... the thought made me
grin and Mulder regarded me quizzically.

"What's so funny, Scully?  You never saw a flaccid Johnson before? 
I could introduce you, if you like."  He slipped a finger between us
and juggled his damp penis against me, intoning, "Harriet, meet
Johnson.  Johnson, Harriet."

God, the man was such a goofball... I started laughing, my body
jerking beneath him with the force of my mirth.  And I found enough
strength to wind my legs around him when he would have moved a
little; I pulled his head down and kissed his mouth, then whispered
against his lips, "Harriet loves Johnson.  A lot.  She told me."

"Oh, yeah?  It's love, huh?  You sure it's not pure lust, for the
sheer impressive size of Johnson's... head?  Maybe it's all that
dark, curly hair surrounding the 'boys'.  Maybe that's what Harriet
finds so fascinating."  He was grinning like a fool, but I saw the
glimmer of residual insecurity behind his grin and heard it buried in
his words.

Oh, Mulder...  I could easily find myself crying; I was on an
emotional teeter-totter.  Before that could happen I kissed him
again, whispered to him once more.

"It's love, Mulder.  Harriet knows a good thing when she finds it. 
And I'd say Johnson is a very, very good thing.  Along with his
owner."  I traced the damp curve of his bottom lip and felt the smile
return to it.  He licked my thumb and let his teeth nibble a bit as
he considered my decisive retort.

The happy was so evident in his silly comeback.  "And just think,
Johnson hasn't even had a chance to poke his nose into Harriet's
business yet.  Wait till THAT happens; I predict Harriet will be one
happy camper."

I slipped my palm over his jaw and cupped his cheek.  Sent a look up
into his eyes that I know had to be curling his toes, because the
flare of hazel he sent back to me would have laid me flat out on the
floor if I hadn't already been there.  "Harriet can't wait and
neither can HER owner.  I propose we blow this popsicle stand, take a
long lunch, maybe take the rest of the day, and let Harriet and
Johnson join forces in a more comfy place.  Yours or mine, doesn't
matter.  I'll even cook, later."

Mulder looked delighted at the prospect of playing hooky.  "Why,
Agent Scully... are you saying we should ditch work, screw over the
Federal government for five hours of FBI-ing that we don't actually
deliver - and go do the horizontal bop in whichever apartment we
reach first?  You're such a bad influence on me.  Let's go."  He
pressed a fast, hard kiss to my mouth and surged to his feet, pulling
me with him, drained energy returning in a flash. Mulder began
rooting around for the clothes we'd removed, and for the first time I
noticed we'd both managed to render each other naked.  I couldn't
even remember taking everything off.  

I sat down in the visitor's chair and took my time dressing, while
Mulder flung his clothes on in haphazard fashion, not slowing down
even when I commented, "Mulder, your shirt's inside out."

A purely male huff.  "Johnson doesn't care."  

I snickered and smoothed pantyhose up over my legs as he hopped
around cramming himself into his boxers.  I flipped him another look,
biting my lip to keep from laughing at his frenzied dressing.

"Mulder, you just put one of your legs into the waistband of your
shorts instead of the leg..."  He ignored me and kept on cramming.

"Johnson could give a rat's ass right now, baby... and get those
sweet cheeks of yours covered, already!  Let's get the hell out of
here before someone knocks on the door and drops off some real work."

God, he was adorable.  Hair sticking up all over and buttons askew,
shirt half in and half out of his slacks... well, I suppose our
respective trench coats could cover up a multitude of disarray. 
Besides, Harriet was getting damned impatient to feel for herself the
foot-to-Johnson ratio.  Can't say that I blamed her any...

I shrugged into my trench, grabbed my suit jacket and blouse, shoved
them into Mulder's inside coat pocket, buttoned him up to the chin,
and stood still barely long enough for him to return the favor.  He
unlocked the door and I pulled him through it.  We alternately
prodded and pushed each other to the elevator, tossed ourselves
inside and managed to keep our hands off each other long enough to
make it to the parking garage with some level of professional
decorum.  As I backed out of my space I rolled down my window and
called, "Thirty minutes.  Your place.  Bring Johnson."

As I eased the window up I heard Mulder laughing... and it was
damned sweet to my ears.

end