Q' Anay
by Lydia Bower
bower2@juno.com
Classification: MSR, V, H
Rating: Strong R--contains references of a sexual nature <gasp> and loads
of UST. No "f" words--but I did use the "c" word once.
Summary: A phone call and a test lead to some interesting discoveries.

Authors Notes: The following story has absolutely no redeeming value. I
just needed to flex my muscles after the angst-fest of Dance Without
Sleeping. <g> This is pure fluff. I know it's been done a thousand times
before, but I needed to add my voice to this particular scene. If dialog
ain't your cup of tea, you might want to back out now--this is a chatty
one. For that matter, if Mulder/Scully romance ain't your cup of tea, you
probably shouldn't read this. Sorry, but I write 'em as I see 'em.
Feedback, as always, is welcomed and encouraged.

The first ten people who figure out the title and write me for
confirmation will receive their very own Gen-u-ine DD or GA clone. Enjoy!
:)
Charli, this one's for you! Now you owe me another one. ;)

Disclaimer: They belong to the man what thunk 'em up, 1013 Productions
and Fox Broadcasting. I'm only borrowing them so they'll have some fun
once and awhile.
xxxxxxxxxx

"Hello."
"Hey, Scully. It's me." Mulder shifted around on the couch until
he was comfortable and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder.
"What's up, Mulder?"
"Nothin'. Just bored." He picked up the remote and did another
quick surf. Still nothing decent on. No wonder people went out on
Saturday nights--TV sucked. He hated Saturday nights.
"So... What? You want me to entertain you?" There was a hint of a
smile in her voice.
"Why? You got something in mind?"
"No."
"Oh. Well, can't blame a guy for trying. So what're you doing,
Scully?"
Maybe she'd just gotten out of the shower and was wearing nothing
but a towel, his mind supplied. Maybe she's standing there naked and wet,
the phone pressed to her ear. And maybe you're thinking about your
partner in a very unpartnerly way, Mulder.
He couldn't help it. He was lonely--and when he got lonely his
thoughts drifted to Scully. From there it was just a few short steps to
imagining what he'd *really* like to be doing on this Saturday night--and
it wasn't talking to Scully on the phone. He'd much rather be doing it
face to face and using nothing but his body to communicate.
He heard the distinct sound of paper rustling. "Just reading,"
she answered.
"Breakfast At Tiffany's again?" He had a resigned smile on his
face. He'd catch her just out of the shower another time.
"I'm not *that* predictable, Mulder. I do read other things. Like
right now, for instance--I'm looking through a magazine."
Mulder was picturing Scientific America or New England Journal of
Medicine or House Beautiful, maybe.
"Lemme guess," he joked. "'The Top 50 Slicing and Dicing Jokes
>From Forensic Pathologists Around The World.'"
"That was last month," she quipped. There was a short silence.
"No, actually, what I'm reading now is much more interesting."
"Do tell."
Another silence--this one longer. And somehow charged. He could
hear Scully breathing.
"'Put Him To The Test--What Kind of Lover Will He Be?'"
Mulder sat up a little. "Excuse me?"
"I said, I'm reading 'Put Him To The Test--What Kind of Lover
Will He Be?'"
"Yeah, I caught that part."
"Mulder, that was the only part."
Right. "Exactly what kind of magazine are you reading, Scully?"
"Um." More paper shuffling. "Cosmo."
That set him back against the couch. "Funny, Scully. You never
struck me as the type to read something like that."
"Something like what, Mulder?" She sounded slightly defensive and
he wished he hadn't said anything.
"Well, you know...." he hedged.
"No, I don't know. Would you care to enlighten me?"
Shit.
"I just meant that I've scanned the covers a couple times--you
know, at the grocery store. I've read the titles of some of their
articles, Scully. Seems like they're all about getting beautiful, getting
skinny and getting laid."
"Your point?"
Mulder squirmed on the couch. How the hell was he going to get
out of this one? He thought up and promptly discarded about half a dozen
responses--no matter what he said he was going to come off sounding like
a jerk.
"So tell me about this test, Scully."
"No way. I want an answer. Don't I strike you as a Cosmo type of
woman, Mulder?"
"I would never presume to type you as anything, Scully. You're
one of a kind."
"And you're full of shit, Mulder." He heard her chuckle and
relaxed a little. "Besides which, just who are you to be questioning my
choice of reading material, Mr. 'King of the Porn Magazine Collection?'"
He should have kept his mouth shut because what came out was not
a good thing. "But that's different."
He heard her astonished gasp and had no trouble picturing the
face that came with it. "That's different?!" she repeated.
Yep. That's what I said and I'm so sorry I said it, he thought.
You have no idea how sorry.
"Look, let's just drop it, Scully. So tell me about this test."
There was resigned amusement in her voice. "You're a pig,
Mulder."
A snort of laughter slipped out. "Oink, oink."
"You're actually proud of yourself, aren't you? Aren't you? You
present this oh-so-hip man of the 90's facade to the outside world, but
deep down you're a chauvinist who wants his woman barefoot and pregnant."
"Don't forget about the requirement that she be a lady in the
parlor and a whore in my bed."
Her response was dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, please forgive me,
Mulder. How could I forget something so important?"
"So, does this mean you're thinking about applying for the job,
Scully?"
Her lilting laughter rang through the phone. It was spontaneous
and belly-deep. He added his own low chuckle. He loved to catch Scully
off-guard and make her laugh.
He gave her a few seconds. "Go ahead, Scully. Say it."
"Mulder, you're crazy."
"Thank you." He was grinning like a fool. He twisted around and
lay down on the couch, one leg bent and leaning against the back, the
other stretched out. Time to settle back and relax.
"So tell me about this test, Scully."
Third time was the charm. "Oh, it's not much, really. A series of
questions that when answered and scored are supposed to describe what
type of lover a man might be."
"All extremely scientific and not subject to error of any kind, I
presume. Right, Dr. Scully?"
"Oh, very scientific, Mulder. No margin for error here."
He grinned. "So are you just reading it or are you actually
taking the test?"
"Just reading."
"Oh." The small tug of disappointment didn't surprise him. Mulder
shifted gears. This was too good an opportunity to let get away. "Ask me
the questions, Scully. Let's see what kind of lover I'd be."
"How do you know I wouldn't skew the results?"
His voice dropped low. "I trust you, Scully."
She got very quiet. He could hear the sound of her hair being
tucked behind her ear and the barely there whisper of her breath. His
body temperature took a small but noticeable climb. Mulder lay his hand
on his stomach and tucked an arm under his head, his elbow holding the
phone to his ear.
"Scully, you still there?"
"Yeah."
"So ask me the questions."
"I don't see any reason to, Mulder."
"Why not?"
"Because I already know." Her words came out in a rush--and were
almost a challenge.
Mulder was game.
"You already know what kind of lover I'd be?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea. Yes."
"Why is that, Scully? Have you given it lots of thought?" He
could almost see the look on her face--the mixture of defiance and humble
admission. God, he wished he was there or she was here or they were
somewhere together.
"Mulder, we've been working together for a long time. I know you
a lot better than you think I do."
"You didn't answer my question. Have you thought about it?"
He was pushing his luck. But he really wanted to know.
"Haven't you?" she shot back.
"Uh uh. I asked first."
"We'll do it together then. On the count of three?"
"Can I count, Scully?"
She snorted. "I don't care. Yes, Mulder, you can count."
"Okay. One. Two. Three."
"Yes," in a female voice.
"All the time," in a deeper one.
Seconds passed. Mulder remembered to breathe and said, "See, that
wasn't so bad."
"All the time?" Scully asked. She sounded as out of breath as he
felt.
"Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but... Yeah, pretty
much all the time. I'm a man, y'know. We tend to think about stuff like
that at fairly regular intervals."
"And women don't?"
Oooo. She walked right into that one. "I dunno, Scully. You tell
me."
It took her awhile. That's all right, Mulder thought. I've got
all night.
"Well, I suppose I could give you statistics."
"Yeah, I'm sure you could do that."
"But I'm not going to."
"No? Why not, Scully?"
"Because I'm going to tell you what kind of lover you'd be
instead."
"Okay. I'm all ears." This was going to be interesting. Mulder
was also hoping it would shed a favorable light on him. He'd hate to be
trashed as a lover without having had the chance to prove himself--so to
speak.
"Well, first of all," Scully's voice had taken on a husky tone.
Mulder shifted on the couch. "You'd be demanding but gentle. Fierce but
tender. Confident but willing to learn. You'd want to take the lead but
would also enjoy being seduced. You know your way around a woman's body
but you're not afraid to ask for directions."
"Yeah," Mulder muttered. A pleasant tingling started up in his
groin.
"You'd be adventurous and very open to new experiences. You
probably like to laugh in bed." Scully was practically purring. She was
in complete control and she knew it. Mulder was too busy thanking
whatever deity might be out there to plan any strategy to get back
control. In some fuzzy part of his brain that wasn't focused on Scully
and her words, he realized he didn't want to be in control. Sometimes it
was good to be seduced.
"I'm guessing you might be a talker, too. Not crude, but blunt.
Honest. Or at least someone who makes noises of one kind or another.
Y'know, a little grunt or groan or a soft moan here and there."
An echo of her words escaped his mouth--he moaned deep in his
throat.
"Yeah. Like that, Mulder."
"Scully, I just got very turned on."
"Mulder, are you saying you're becoming aroused by my description
of you as a lover?"
"Sick, isn't it?" His hand strayed lower on his stomach.
Scully laughed--a deep, throaty laugh.
"So what else, Scully?"
"I don't know, Mulder. Are you sure you can take this?"
"Gimme your best shot." No way in hell was he backing out of this
now.
"Okay." There was a lull and Mulder knew she was thinking. "This
is a little tougher."
"What is, Scully?"
"Well, I'm just trying to decide if you're the type who likes to
take things slow. Y'know, take something that most men spend little time
on and turn it into an all-night sort of situation. Build up to things
slowly. Really concentrate on taking a woman to the brink, over and over,
before you finally give her release."
Mulder swore he could hear the whisper of Scully's tongue sliding
across her lips as she paused between each sentence--letting it soak in.
Taking her time.
His grin turned to a grimace of desire as his hand slipped the
rest of the way down and he cupped himself through his jeans. His little
buddy was waking up fast.
"So," he managed to ask. "Is that as opposed to a man who prefers
to take a lesson from the bunny rabbits of the world and just
wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am?"
"Are you describing yourself now, Mulder?"
He gently squeezed his balls and hissed, "Scully, you're the one
who started this--I hope you intend to finish."
She chuckled and then let out a long sigh. His cock twitched
under his hand.
"Well, if you're going to pin me down I'd have to say that you'd
probably enjoy both methods. Depending on the situation, of course."
"Of course," he echoed.
"And I know you like to keep your mouth busy."
"What?" It came out as a groan. Damn.
"C'mon, Mulder. The seeds. The gum. Drink straws. The way you
gnaw on the corner of your thumb. The way your mouth is moving even when
you're not saying a word. You're very oral, Mulder."
Wow. She really did know him. And was paying far more attention
to him than she'd ever let on. Mulder wished she was there. He'd show her
just how oral he was.
"So what are you saying that means, Dr. Scully?"
"You're the psychologist."
"Yeah, but I want *you* to tell *me*." His fingers were lazily
tracing the length of his erection. He wasn't in any hurry.
"Okay. Like I said, you like to keep your mouth busy. So that
means lots of kisses. Everything from short little pecks to long, deep,
slow, wet ones."
"Have you been watching 'Bull Durham' again, Scully?"
They both laughed. It was one of her favorite movies.
"No, Mulder. I don't need to watch a movie to spark my
imagination."
Was that a veiled reference to his video collection? He decided
to let it pass. This was too much fun.
"You were talking about my oral fixation," he reminded her.
"Oh, yeah. You probably like to give out little love-bites, too."
He jumped in. "Where?"
"Um."
He heard sounds in the background. He imagined Scully setting
aside the magazine and getting comfortable. Was she on the couch, the
chair? Or was she in bed?
"Let's see.... Definitely the neck. But not just the normal
nibble below the ear. You're a nape of the neck kind of guy. And since
you were there anyway, you'd probably work your way down her spine."
"Go on."
"I'm picturing nips on the curve of her shoulder, too."
She was *picturing*?!
God. This was better than he could have imagined. Mulder eased
the buttons open on his 501s.
"Scully, where are you?"
She made a disgusted sound. "At home, Mulder. You called me here,
remember?"
"No. I mean *where* are you?"
"I'm, uh, I'm in bed. Why?"
"No reason. You were saying something about shoulders?"
Yeah. And the inside of my arm, too. The wrist. All my soft
places."
*My*? Mulder wondered if she'd noticed her shift from passive to
personal. "Tell me about some of these places, Scully. Refresh my
memory."
He heard a ragged sigh and took himself firmly in hand. One long,
slow stroke and he added his sigh to hers.
"Um. The flare of the hip. The backs of my knees. The small of my
back."
Mulder felt compelled to comment. "Yeah. Definitely there."
"The curve of my breast. Y'know, right there on the side?"
No, he didn't know. But Mulder certainly wanted to. Very badly.
He was right on the skinny edge of losing control. His fist tightened in
response. Sweet Jesus.
"Oh," Scully continued. "And the inside of my thigh. Right
below--"
"Hey, Scully," he interrupted. "I gotta go. I'll call you right
back."
"Mul--"
He slammed the phone down on the coffee table and his hips jerked
up off the couch in response to his rough stroking. Some little part of
his brain that still had a supply of blood hoped that Scully wouldn't be
pissed at him for hanging up on her. As much fun as it had been, he just
couldn't let himself get off while he was talking to her. Better to come
in solitude than settle for sharing it over the phone. Nope. It would
have to be live and in person, up close and personal--or all by his
lonesome. He wouldn't allow it any other way.
It was quick and almost painful. Mulder felt like a teenager who
couldn't control himself. As he turned his head and groaned into his
pillow, he imagining Scully hearing him do that one day and it caused him
to spasm that much more forcefully.
He lay on the couch for several minutes afterward, catching his
breath and trying to achieve a semi-normal state again. He finally pulled
himself off the couch and went to clean up, changing into a pair of sweat
pants before heading to the kitchen. He drank down two glasses of tea and
plopped on the couch. He picked up the phone and hit the speed dial.
Scully picked up on the first ring.
"Mulder?"
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry, Scully. I didn't mean to leave you high and dry
like that." He meant it in more ways than one.
Her voice was rich with a blend of humor and anticipation. "I
don't know if I'd use the term "dry" or not, Mulder."
He barked a laugh. "Scully? Have I told you lately that you're a
truly amazing woman?"
"No, I don't think you have."
"Well, let me remedy that. Scully, you are a truly amazing woman.
And just for that, I'm going to do something for you."
"What are you going to do for me, Mulder?"
"I'm going to tell you what kind of lover I'd be. In detail."
"Great detail?" she asked a little breathlessly. "Lots of long,
descriptive detail?"
"Scully, I'm going to take it nice and slow and make it last just
as long as I can."
"Oh, good. 'Cause I don't want to miss a single thing."
"You won't. I promise."
They traded smiles that were unseen but most certainly felt.
"Hey, Mulder? What are you wearing?"
It didn't take long before it was Scully hanging up on him.
Mulder decided he'd have to rethink his position on Saturday
nights.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

The End