TITLE: ON-LINE (1/2) AUTHOR: DONNILEE E-MAIL: DONNILEE@SNET.NET RATING: NC-17 WARNING: Descriptive sex. Smut. Please, no one under 17. CATEGORY: MSR /ANGST POSTING: ANYWHERE - But Please make sure my name and e-mail address are on it and inform me by e- mail of the location. Thank you. SUMMARY: Scully runs into Mulder on the net, but he doesn't know it's her. Fun ensues. DISCLAIMER: Nope. Not mine. Used shamelessly and without remorse. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox, and god knows who else, but not me. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT SATURDAY NIGHT Dana Scully sat at her computer staring at her screen. She had gone to a web site on Paranormal Phenomenon and read up on the latest escapades of the Warrens and watched a short recreation of a film they made. She thought, 'How sad is it that this is what I'm doing on a Saturday night. My partner is rubbing off on me. I wish he'd rub off on me. Oops, where did that come from?' The Warrens were the infamous couple in the field who had spent their life documenting paranormal activity. The site had a link to a chat room called "Paranormal Junkies". She'd chuckled at the name. She had decided to go in and see how sick these people really were. She had said hello and then sat back while four others discussed some other film of ghostly activity recently circulated by a new group on the scene who called themselves the "Hunters." Bored. She was so bored. Her new handle on-line for personal stuff was RedBadger. She thought it fit her personality pretty well, since her partner thought she was a pest most of the time. Oh, sure, they were friends, but she'd had so many un-partnerly thoughts over the years. They seemed to crop up at the most inopportune times, when she needed to be paying attention and concentrating, like during an autopsy. Must be the stress. God he was so sexy though. Why couldn't she have been paired with an ugly man who would have been no distraction. No, she had to be paired with the sexiest man she'd ever seen. Screwed up, but sexy. As if her thoughts had conjured him up, another name suddenly appeared on the screen. She thought, 'Oh, this should be good.' She had no idea that Mulder surfed the net on his off time other than to download nude pictures off porno sites. She was surprised when Mulder disputed the excitement surrounding the film, stating that the shadows were wrong, indicating some sort of hoaxy lighting trick. God, he sounded like a skeptic. He sounded like...well...her. Maybe there was hope for him yet. That thought gave her a laugh. Suddenly, her musings were interrupted when he addressed her. FM: So, RedB, you're quiet. What do you think? RB: I agree with you. Probably a hoax. FM: Seems you're the only one who does tonight! RB: Is that a bad thing? FM: Not at all, it's rare anyone agrees with me. 'Especially me,' she thought. FM: Want to have a private chat? RB: Why? FM: I'm bored and lonely here, just want to talk to someone intelligent, ... please. RB: Sure. 'What the hell could it hurt,' she thought. He doesn't know it's me. Maybe I can find out something interesting. FM: Go to PrivateChat - title - FoxnBadger. RB: Cute. FM: :0) She booted into the private chat window and typed the name. FM: Hi. RB: Hi. FM: So, what do you do for a living? This could be fun - well, better stick near the truth, she thought. RB: Law enforcement. FM: Really? Me too. RB: Yeah, what kind? FM: Umm, FBI, you? Hmm, don't give too much information, Dana. RB: I'm an investigator. FM: Detective? RB: Something like that. FM: O.K., I get it, you're a female. RB: What makes you say that? FM: Because females don't like to give too much personal information on the net. Not a bad practice. Safer. Lots of nuts out there, although I assure you I'm harmless. RB: Oh well, good deduction. Sure you're not surfin' for babes? Lol FM: No way. Not interested. RB: A guy not interested in babes? FM: I'm only interested in one babe. RB: Married? Would he lie? FM: No. RB: Who's the babe? Who was he interested in? FM: Rather not say. RB: Now who's being evasive. You don't have to mention her by name. FM: Would be really bad if it got out. RB: Who am I gonna tell? FM: LOL, Yeah, but... RB: Why are you so hesitant? FM: I'm not supposed to be interested. RB: Why not? FM: Rules. RB: Rules against being interested in a woman? Maybe he was talking about Samantha. FM: Job rules, -- sexual harassment - ever hear of it? RB: Oh, I get it, someone you work with? FM: Yes. RB: Burning curiosity. Who is she? Who was he interested in at work? Maybe one of the secretaries. FM: I'm so used to keeping my feelings for her hidden, it feels weird to even talk about it, even if it is with some anonymous cyber woman. RB: Cyber woman? FM: Sorry, is that insulting? RB: No, you're dodging though. FM: Yup, lol. RB: Come on...let me guess...tall, with legs up to her neck, olive skin, dark hair, dark eyes, big boobs. Am I close? FM: Nope, cold as ice. RB: Hmm, blond? Skinny, young? FM: Nope. RB: O.K., describe her. FM: Brilliant, funny. RB: Can you be more specific? Give me anything? This conversation topic is going to crash soon if you don't. Who could it be? Why do I feel this coil of jealousy in my gut? FM: I'm in love with her. Seems almost sacrilegious to talk about my feelings for her when I haven't even told her. RB: Why haven't you told her? FM; Sheer, stark terror of rejection. RB: Why would she reject you. 'Christ, Mulder,' she thought, 'you're the one of the sexiest men alive, what woman would reject you? Half the bureau women would give their left fingers to get into your bed, strange man or not. FM: No woman would want an intimate life with me. RB: Why not? FM: I'm nuts. RB: You don't sound nuts. FM: You don't' know me very well. 'Oh yes I do,' she thought without mirth. RB: Well, let's see if I can help. FM: How? RB: Well, if you won't describe her physically, describe yourself. FM: A little over 6', short brown hair, hazel eyes, big nose, no chin to speak of. RB: Lips? FM: I've got 'em. RB: Very funny, describe them. FM: Lower lip too big, upper lip too thin. 'God, does he really see himself this way?' RB: Are you muscular? FM: Not really. I'm in shape, have to be for my job. I run and swim, but I'm not steroid lad if that's what you mean. RB: Ha-Ha, not what I meant. FM: Where is this going? RB: Are you good looking? FM: No. RB: You sound good looking. FM: You think? RB: Yeah, Is she good looking? FM: Beautiful, stunning, sexy. RB: What's sexy? Her looks? FM: Everything. Her brain, her attitude, her dedication. RB: You sound like a woman's dream, love her for her brain not her body. This shouldn't hurt to hear this, she thought. I want him to be happy and if some other woman can do that for him, I should help him find the confidence to get together with her. What are friends for? God, that would suck though. When did I start thinking of him as mine? FM: Her body is exquisite too. RB: Ah, now we're getting at it. FM: no, not like that. She's a package deal. Bodies are nice but a dime a dozen, if there's nothing in the box, why bother? Women who are all pretty packaging, no brain, don't interest me. RB: No? What about porn? FM: What about it? RB: Do you watch it? FM: Yes. RB: Ah, ha, shallow after all. Women as objects FM: Not at all. RB: How do you see it? I've always wondered why men watch it so much and then claim not be exploiting women or be shallow. How do you see this ... past time. FM: Means to an end. RB: Just to get off? FM: Relieve sexual frustration, tension. Better than having casual sex these days. That's too dangerous. I can't have the woman I want and I don't want to have sex with women I would only be wishing were her anyway, soooo... movies it is. I just wind up fantasizing about her anyway. RB: Have you tried dating others? FM: Yes. RB: What happened? FM: They weren't as smart, as compassionate, as forgiving, as confident, as interesting, as intriguing as her. And they certainly weren't as beautiful. They weren't her, period. RB: Sounds like you got it bad. What would it be like to have that passion directed at me? Stop it, he's already in love with someone else. FM: I do have it bad. It kills me sometimes. Sometimes I just sit here and cry out of sheer frustration. Pathetic, huh? RB: You should tell her you love her. FM: I can't. RB: Why not? I doubt she would scream sexual harassment if you are sincere, and at least you would know one way or the other if she's interested, instead of pining away. FM: I'd ruin what we have. Can't risk it. I'd shrivel up and die without the friendship, the contact, being at least able to see her and talk to her. RB: She's your friend? FM: My best friend. I thought I was his best friend, at least that's what he said. RB: Friends make the best lovers, they say. FM: Too risky. RB: What's the worst that could happen? FM: I'd lose her, she wouldn't want anything to do with me. RB: You don't have her to lose. FM: I have her friendship. RB: Is the friendship worth the torment? FM: Yes. There have been times when I resolved to tell her or at least ask her out on a real date, just to see what she would say, but I always chicken out. RB: She's a lucky woman. FM: If she knew she'd think she was cursed. RB: Why? FM: I'm a nightmare, lots of baggage, crazy job, obsessed. RB: Well, how about this. Maybe I can at least help you relieve some of your tension, get it off your chest. If you could tell her what you really think and how you really feel with no negative consequences, what would you say? FM: Umm, I'd tell her I love her, that I'm *in love* with her. I'd tell her how much I respect her and appreciate her friendship, and how devastatingly beautiful I think she is. RB: Tell me more. Who'd of thought Mulder could have these romantic thoughts. Mr. Porn King himself, talking about love and respect. FM: No consequences? RB: None. FM: I'd tell her how I've dreamed of making love to her, how I've fantasized about kissing her - feeling her lips on my body. She has the most amazing mouth - full, pouty, red lips that just beg to be kissed and sucked on. RB: Christ, did it just get warm in here? FM: LOL - Too much information? RB: No, tell me more. Tell me your fantasies. FM: This is crazy, but I have this one where I'm sleeping in my bed and dreaming about her and then I wake up and she's there, naked, laying on top of me, running her hands over my chest and body and kissing my neck. RB: Whoa, your neck, huh? FM: I have a very sensitive neck. RB: Interesting, what else? FM: She doesn't say a word, just kisses her way down my body and takes me into her mouth. RB: Groaning here. God, how arousing is it to here that he thinks these things. A glimpse inside the sexual mind of Fox Mulder. This could be trouble. FM: She licks and sucks me with that beautiful mouth till I'm right on the edge and then... RB: And then? I can't believe I'm encouraging this. Christ, I'm so wet, she thought. FM: She pulls herself up and slides her tiny body onto me. The rest, you can guess... RB: Are you hot right now? Turned on? FM: Are you? RB: Incredibly wet. FM: I've been turned on since the video discussion. RB: How turned on? FM: Hard as a rock. Are you touching yourself? I am now. She pinched her nipples through her tee shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra, and slid her jeans down to below her knees. RB: Yes. FM: Top or bottom? RB: Both, back and forth. FM: Holy shit, should we continue this? Are you uncomfortable? RB: Don't stop now. Are you touching yourself? I can't believe I'm doing this. Her fingers trailed into her wetness as she waited for her answer. FM: Yes, shed my sweats a while ago. Just thinking about her is all it takes. RB; Pretend I'm her. What do I need to do to make it feel like I'm her. FM: Look like her. RB: You wouldn't tell me what she looks like. FM: Short, about 5' 2", creamy white skin. I have white skin and am 5' 2". No, it couldn't be, just keep him talking. RB: Tell me more. FM: O.K., here goes. What the hell. She's petite, but very strong, very well toned muscles, well-toned legs, great calf muscles. Not large breasts, but really full for her tiny frame, heart shaped rear-end, small waist, square, strong straight shoulders, long beautiful neck I ache to lick. High cheek bones. The most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen, long lashes. 'Holy shit, he could be describing me, except for the adjectives.' RB: You've got me so hot. I love the way to you lovingly describe her. FM: Oh, and the best part, her hair. So beautiful, soft and silky like corn silk, shoulder length. And, god, the most gorgeous shade of auburn red you've ever seen. 'Holyshitohmygoditcan'tbe' Her mind was spinning. Who else had red hair at work. I should end this right here. RB: Red? FM: Yup, natural too. RB: Who is she? Please tell me. That question was risky. He'll wonder why I'm being so pushy. FM: She's my partner. I've been in love with her for years. See how complicated it suddenly got? RB: HOLY SHIT! FM: Yeah, holy shit, you said a mouthful. God, describing her to you has made me so worked up. RB: Worked up? Tell me. FM: I'm so hard I ache. My balls feel heavy. It's a good thing I'm typing cause if I touch myself right now, I'm going to come... really hard. I might not even have to touch myself if you tell me what you are doing. Please tell me. Let me pretend you are her. RB: Oh god. My nipples are so hard. I took off my jeans and underwear and the wooden chair I'm sitting on is gettng slick. I'm so wet I've been leaking all over it. I was pinching my nipples to relieve the ache and...oh god. FM: And... RB: And finger fucking myself, rubbing my hand over my clit as I slid in and out. I want to finish. 'I want to make him come too. I can't believe I'm having cyber sex with Fox Mulder.' FM: Finish for me. Make yourself come. RB: Yes, Talk to me while I do it. FM: O.K. Do it for me, roll your nipple with your fingers, as hard as you can stand it. I can picture you sliding your fingers in and out of your red curls. Use two, no three fingers, pretend it's my fingers, use the heel of your hand to push on your clit, -- that's it. Keep going. My mouth is suckling your clit, just like I've always wanted to. Dana couldn't believe the words on the screen as she followed his instructions. She slipped into the fantasy and felt waves of pleasure washing through her. She strained not to throw her head back. She forced her eyes open to look at the screen again. FM: I can picture you. I'm oozing all over the place here. My cock is so hard and it's red it's so ready to burst. I'm sorry. I have to touch myself. Keep going. Tell me when you come... Dana read the screen and threw her head back over the backrest of the chair, her hips thrust forward furiously pushing her palm against her hard, throbbing bundle of nerves. Her fingers were thrusting inside as deep as they would go as she plunged them in and out. Her mind could chant only one thing. 'He love me, I've made him hard, he loves me, I've made him hard'. She looked up at the screen. FM: Yes, baby, come for me, Dana. Come for me. She squeezed her nipple hard and twisted. All her muscles locked suddenly and then let loose in a series of violent shudders as they contracted and spasmed through her release. His name tumbling from her lips, 'Mulder, oh god, Mulder, oh god.' She panted, trying to catch her breath. She hadn't come that hard in ages. Had she ever come that hard? She sat up and looked at the screen. Could she end this charade? She should just let him think she was a stranger and let it go. But her conscious wouldn't let her. She was in love with him and had known it for a long time even if she had never admitted it to him or even to herself. No one else could have made her have cyber sex. No one else could have created the arousing images in her head. He was it for her and she knew no one would ever take his place in her fantasies or her life for that matter. FM: Are you still there? RB: Yes. FM; Two strokes was all it took. I just came all over myself. Did you come? RB: Yes, hard. Why did you call me Dana? FM: Sorry, that's her name. I was pretending you were her. Hope that didn't offend you. RB: No, I told you to. FM: This sounds lame, but thank you. RB: For what? FM: For letting me get that off my chest. RB: No problem. You should tell her. FM: I can't. RB: Yes, you can, she might surprise you. FM: How do you figure? Could she do this? FM: How so? RB: I love you, too. Good night, Mulder. RB: . THE END. (1/2)