Six-Letter Word for Sex
by Dianora
dianora2@aol.com
Finished 8/1/98

Category: S
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Is it an MSR if there's no actual "romance" involved?
Plenty o' UST, some RST in an autoerotic fashion.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. No one ever said life was fair.
Archive: Pretty please.
Content: The F word, and assorted sexual words, too, as
well as masturbatory scenarios. Can't handle it, please don't read
it, I won't be offended.
Summary: Your standard phone sex piece.

This is fluffy smut, but I'd still love feedback.
Comments to Dianora2@aol.com.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dana loved Sundays.

Sunday was her day to get up whenever she damn well felt like it,
fix herself some coffee and an omelet, and sprawl out on her bed
with the Sunday Washington Post. She started with world news
before meandering over to local, then indulged herself with the
entertainment section and the editorials. And finally, finally she
got to the real reason she loved Sundays -- the crossword puzzle.
She did it in ink -- always in ink, what was the point of doing a
crossword if you couldn't feel superior about it -- and she relished
the sight of the blank boxes being filled in one by one with letters that
from a distance looked random but which in actuality all lined up
just right. There was a methodical logic to crossword puzzles that
she savored like a junkie in need of a fix. She knew it was vaguely
pathetic that she got so excited over something so mundane, but
she also figured she needed to take her pleasures where she could
get them these days.

Her felt-tip pen hovering over the blank puzzle, she was about to
fill in her first solution, One Across, a four-letter word for "medieval
guitar," when the phone rang. She grumbled under her breath as she
picked up her cordless from the night table and pressed the speak button.

"Hey, Scully, it's me."

She suppressed a sigh. "What is it, Mulder?"

A brief pause. "I was just wondering if you'd had a chance to look
over that file I gave you on Friday."

She raised her eyes heavenward. "Yes, I looked at it yesterday. I
assumed it could wait until Monday."

"Oh, it can, it can." Another pause. "So, what did you think?"

"Monday, Mulder," she said firmly.

"Okay, fine. Uh...are you busy?"

She looked longingly at her crossword. "No," she lied.

"Good. Listen, I need your advice on something."

Ah, so now we get to it. "Shoot."

"I need to know what kind of christening gift to get for a single mother."

She settled back into the pillows, intrigued by the question. "That depends
on how well you know the single mother," she replied, fishing shamelessly.

He rose to the bait. "She's a friend from the academy. We uh...knew
each other pretty well, then. Haven't kept in touch, though, really."

"So why are you invited to her baby's christening?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, clearly puzzled.

The pieces fell into place. God, the man was an idiot sometimes.
Single mother invites ex-flame to her new child's christening? Uh huh.
"I don't think it really matters what kind of gift you buy for her,
Mulder," she said dryly.

"Well that's no help," he whined. Still not getting it.

She sighed wearily. "Look, just get her something with Winnie-the-Pooh
on it. You can't go wrong with something Pooh. Everyone loves Pooh.
Bear of little brain and all that."

"'It is awfully hard to be brave, when you are only a Very Small
Animal,'" Mulder quoted.

She couldn't help but let out a delighted laugh. "You have Winnie-the-
Pooh memorized?"

"Just the one quote. It was on a greeting card I gave someone once, and
it stuck with me."

"Who was the card for?" she asked, striving to keep the jealousy out of
her voice.

"Frohike."

She grinned and placed her hand on her bare stomach where her shirt
had ridden up. "I didn't realize you two were so close."

"Oh, I'm still full of surprises, Scully." His voice was low and husky
against her ear, and she almost shivered.

"Don't I know it," she sighed. She started to absently trace circles on
her skin.

"Okay, something Pooh-esque. I can handle that." She could practically hear
him making a mental note of it. "So what are you doing?" he asked. She
could hear him moving on his couch, wondered if he too was now lying down.

"Reading the paper. Doing the crossword." Which suddenly didn't seem
quite as appealing as it did a few minutes ago.

"Need any help?"

"Are you implying that I can't complete a Sunday crossword by myself?"
she asked frostily. Her hand stopped moving.

"No, not at all. I'm just bored."

"Oh." She started up again, coming dangerously close to the waistband
of her leggings. "How about a six-letter word for annoying partner?"

There was a pause. When he spoke, his voice was laced with humor, and,
maybe, something more. "You know, =Scully,= your name has six letters
too."

"Hmm. Who says I wasn't referring to myself?"

"Oooh, self-deprecation from Ms. Perfection? I am shocked and appalled."

"I didn't realize I was ordinarily the picture of self-confidence," she
said glibly.

"You are," he said, and the sudden sincerity in his voice took her aback
for a moment. "It's one of the things I admire about, you, Scully. No matter
what you're doing, even if you don't =know= what the hell you're doing, you
always seem so certain of yourself in spite of it."

She blinked, searching for an appropriate response, glad that he wasn't
actually in the room with her to embarrass her further. "Maybe I'm just a
good actor," she said finally.

He let out a soft laugh. "If that's the case, then may I suggest that your
acting talent is infinitely better than your singing ability."

"Go to hell, Mulder." He laughed again. Her hand slipped up her shirt,
traveled lazily across her abdomen, just below her breasts.

"Sorry. You have a...an interesting singing voice. Unique."

"Oh, that's much better. Just remember, you're the one who wanted me
to sing. I did warn you of the consequences."

"That's true. Besides," and now his voice held that glint of something
unnamable once more, "I didn't mind it. I just wanted to know you were awake."

"Remind me again how that was supposed to work when you were sleeping in
my lap." Something pulsed deep in her abdomen at the memory.

"What can I say, Scully, it worked for me," he said huskily.

Her hand meandered further upward, brushing against the undercurve
of her breast, tantalizingly close to the nipple. She was pretty certain he
was lying down by this point, and she could see him in her mind, lounging on his
couch, bare feet peeking out from faded blue jeans, chest muscles slightly visible
beneath a white undershirt. Or maybe he wasn't wearing any shirt at all. She idly
wondered how she would be able to obtain that bit of information.

"Scully, you there?"

"Hmm? Yeah, sorry. Guess my mind wandered for a bit."

"Where to?"

She smiled into the receiver. "Don't ask questions if you're not prepared
to hear the answers, Mulder."

Silence.

"Mulder?"

"Uh, yeah. That was my turn to wander. Wanna know where I went?"

"No, I don't." Liar.

"Damn."

"What...what were we talking about?" she asked. She honestly couldn't
remember at this point.

A low chuckle. "I have no idea."

"Hmph." She could hear him adjusting himself on the couch. The sound of
denim against denim, skin against upholstery. "What are you doing?" she asked
before she could stop herself.

"Huh?"

"I can hear you moving."

"Just getting more comfortable, Scully."

His long, lean body stretched out on the full length of the couch, his hand
slipping down the waistband of his jeans... "So you plan on this
conversation being a long one?"

"Why, you got something better to do?"

"The crossword, Mulder. The crossword."

"Right. Give me another one."

She smiled, sensing the game was afoot, and slowly circled her nipple with
her forefinger. "Okay..." She glanced down at the neglected puzzle for form's
sake as her mind raced with possibilities. "I need a six-letter word for white
meat," she said finally, her mouth dry all of a sudden.

He took a short while to answer her. "Breast," he said a bit hoarsely.
Clearing his throat.

She hummed in approval and cupped her breast with her hand, rubbing her
thumb over the nipple. "That fits," she said, fighting to keep her voice
even.

"Glad to hear it," he rumbled into her ear.

Oh, he knew something was going on, didn't he? She visualized him again,
wondering if he was even now undoing the fly of his jeans... "Are you up
for the next one?" she asked, wincing at the pun.

"I hope so."

She ran her tongue over her lips. "A four-letter word for eating a
lollipop."

He laughed softly again, and she tweaked her nipple at the sound. "That's
easy, Scully. 'Lick.'"

"Mmm." A vision of Mulder's head buried between her legs flitted across
her brain but she exorcised it with a massive effort of will; she was
having enough trouble breathing normally as it was.

"Just what kind of crossword puzzle is this, Agent Scully?" he asked
teasingly.

"It's only available to special subscribers," she murmured. Her hand
abandoned her breast and snaked its way toward her waistband once more.

"So how do I get on that mailing list?"

She shifted on the bed, scooting down and spreading her legs a bit, bending
her knees. "You have to pass a test," she told him.

"What kind of test?"

"A...creativity test," she supplied. She slipped her hand down her leggings
until her fingers encountered the thatch of damp pubic hair. God, she was
wet. "You have to be extremely...creative to pass the test."

"So give me a sample exercise." Was that the sound of a zipper opening that
she just heard, or was she imagining things?

"Well, let's see..." She paused to slip one finger inside of her, and bit
down on her lip at the sensation. "You might have to, say, give as many 
examples as you can of things you can do with your mouth." Subtle, Dana. 
Real subtle. Well, it wasn't like she was an expert at these scenarios, was it.

"Hmm." She could hear his intrigue with the proposal. "Like...taste?"

"Uh huh." God. She slipped another finger in, doubling the pressure.

"Eat?" His tone was still playful, enjoying the challenge. Good.

"Mmm."

"Suck?" He dragged the word out, accenting the hard k sound.

"Yes." She pulled her fingers out of herself and began circling her clit,
caressing her inner folds. Her hips undulated slowly beneath her hand.

"Nibble?"

"That's a good one." Her fingers quickened.

"Suckle?"

Oh Jesus. "Mmhmhm." That's it, Mulder, keep it up, just like that...

"Can you feel it?"

His question was like a bucket of cold water and her fingers stopped.
"What?"

There was a pause, and the timbre of his response was thick and deep and
just a little nervous. "Can you feel my mouth on you. Can you feel me doing
these things to you."

"God, Mulder..." The game had gone too far.

"This was your idea, Scully," he said, the dare unmistakable in his voice.
"Or are you a quitter?"

Bastard. "No," she bit out.

"Good. Because I want you to feel me. Tasting you, eating you..."

Her fingers started up again as if of their own free will. "I feel you..."
she whispered, astonished at herself, at both of them, but beyond caring at
that point.

"You taste so good..."

"Oh god..."

"Sucking your breasts, licking your cunt..." His voice was harsh against
her ear, rough, excited. Unfamiliar.

"Mulder..."

"Sliding my tongue in and out of you..."

"God!" And then she was coming, convulsing wildly, gasping for air,
dropping the phone beside her on the bed, emitting breathy moans she could 
not control. When it was over, she lay there for a while, trying to recover, 
wondering how in hell she could ever look her partner in the face again.

"Scully? Are you okay?" The tinny voice crackled at her through the
receiver.

She somehow managed to pick the phone up and place it against her ear.
"Yeah. I'm...fine. How about you?"

"Well, I'll be better once I hang up and finish what you've started," he
said, his voice filled with affection and humor and that hard glint of something
else that shot a hot pulse of desire through her still twitching body.

"That doesn't seem fair," she groused.

"What do you mean?"

"You got to hear me, Mulder," she said throatily. "It...only seems fair
that I should get to hear you." What the hell was she doing?

"Scully, I can't..."

"Why not? It is your turn, isn't it? A game is a game, you have to take
turns." She swallowed hard, took a deep breath and plunged ahead. Trying to make
her voice sound sexy, wondering if she was succeeding. "Can you feel
my lips around you, Mulder? Can you feel me going down on you?"

"OhJesusScully..." Oh yeah, she was succeeding, all right.

"It feels so good, so hot and wet..."

"Unnh..." He panted into the receiver.

"I take you in, deeper and deeper into my mouth, swirling my tongue around
you..."

"Yeah..."

"And then I suck," stretching the word out, just as he had earlier, "so
=hard=..."

"Ungh!" His rapid breathing and strangled groan signaled his release, and
she nearly came again herself at the mental image of him thrusting into the
air, spurting over his belly, his face contorted with ecstasy.

She waited a few moments for him to compose himself. "How are you doing?"
she whispered.

"Uhh...great. I'm great." He sounded exhausted. But happy.

She smiled at the phone. "Good. So I'll see you on Monday."

"What?"

The words came out in a rush. "I have to go, Mulder. I still have this
crossword puzzle to finish. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Have a good
Sunday." And she pressed the off button on the phone over his strangled
protests.

She stared at the phone a moment longer, still dazed by what had just
happened. Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck.... How in hell was she
going to face him tomorrow morning? What had come over her? Over
=him?= Granted, it was nice to find out that he apparently felt the same
way about her that she did about him....

Although, was that the case? All she knew was that he wanted to fuck
her, or at the very least go down on her. Hardly a declaration of love.

Maybe she could call in sick tomorrow.

No. William Scully's youngest daughter was =not= going to run away
from this. One way or another, she would find out what the deal was
with her partner. Tomorrow. Once and for all.

She wondered if her black lace underpants were clean.


End.