Title: Reckless Driving

Author: Jenna Caplan

Rating: NC-17

Feedback: Please! ZzariarazZ@aol.com

Distribution: Gossamer, ATXC, anywhere else. Just keep my name attached.

Author's note: Okay, guys, don't ask for a plot, 'cause you won't get one. This
is smut. Pure smut. 

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Reckless Driving


I hate driving. It's just such a boring method of transportation. You sit there
in a cushioned seat, holding on to a steering wheel and turning it every once
and a while. You have to keep your eyes on the dirty license plate of the car
in front of you, which, of course, is exactly the same as yours, because no one
in this politically correct concrete slab of a city ventures anywhere other
than their office and their home. In the rare instances where there is an
out-of-state plate to feast your eyes on, the rush of euphoria that hits is
depressingly short, and you get more and more bored until the car switches
lanes. Trees line the highway; they're usually dead. Camaro-sporting idiots
beep at you from all directions. In short, yeah. Driving sucks.

But driving with my partner...now that's another thing altogether.

He's patient, composed, he doesn't beep the horn or flip the bird, he doesn't
tailgate. At red lights, he drums on the steering wheel. He really is a
pleasure to watch.

Right now we're driving up to Philadelphia to help catch a mad bomber. This
whole domestic terrorism thing is really starting to get on my nerves; I mean,
the criminals we bust are just so *stupid*. The guy we're hunting now blew up a
latex factory and killed three people. What an idiot. If I were really pissed
off at the latex people (which I'm not; the ribbed condom was probably the best
invention of the past fifty years) I'd go ahead and blow up a few buildings,
but I'd make sure no one got killed. No sense in getting slapped with murder,
right? 

And I call myself a law enforcement officer.

It doesn't really matter what the case we're on is about, anyway, because the
very fact that there is one allows me to spend three hours in a small, confined
space with my partner, watching him drive oh-so-expertly. It's... well, an
experience. He smiles when the engine growls. He's so hot that sometimes I feel
like I'm going to hyperventilate. It's amazing- and believe me, I never thought
I'd be saying this- but it's amazing how a person doing something as simple as
driving could make me want them so much.

"Hey, Scully?" he said. I snapped my eyes away from his mouth and pretended to
be looking at...the seatbelt. Way to go, Dana. Real unsuspicious.

"Yes, Mulder?" I said, trying to pull off a bored nonchalant tone and failing
miserably when my voice cracked.

"Well, I was just thinking about the case, and about the guy who bombed the
factory. Why was he so mad?"

Oh, the things that evolve in that spooky little mind of his.

"I don't know, Mulder. Maybe they made bad latex."

He frowned and furrowed his brow. "No, I know, but I mean what made him do it?
What is it that makes a person just...lose control?"

Breathe, Dana.

I wanted to slap him. Already I was trying with every living cell in my body to
keep from doing something...unprofessional, and he had to go and say that.

"What do you mean, Mulder?" I replied. My voice was steady. Good.

He looked at me, with this innocent gaze that reflected his ignorance as to
what he was dealing with. "You know, what is it in a tense situation that makes
a person snap and act on instinct?"

Forgive me, Lord, for I can no longer be held accountable for my own actions.

"Well, Mulder, that would depend on what kind of tension it was." 

He looked at me in surprise; obviously he'd assumed I wouldn't that put much
thought into his question. "What do you mean, Scully?"

Well. "I'll give you an example, Mulder. Let's say that there were two
co-workers in a car, driving on a road trip. And-"

"Scully, what did I do? You're not going to bomb *me*, are you?" he said,
pouting like a little boy.

"No, Mulder. I'm speaking hypothetically. Now, these two co-workers are very
close, they've been working side by side for a long time, and they're both
attractive. This, of course, causes some sexual tension between the two."

"Scully-"

"It's an *example*, Mulder. The sexual tension between the two grows and grows
in intensity for a few years. They want eachother badly, but they can't get
together because they'd get kicked out of the Bur- of their workplace and that
would be the end of that. Being broke does not breed romance, Mulder." I stole
a glance at him- he was staring straight out the windsheild, his knuckles on
the steering wheel white. I could see beads of sweat forming on his upper lip.

"Where is this going, Scully?" he asked, his voice strained.

"It's going to my point. Getting back to the car trip: these two co-workers of
ours are sitting, side by side, for hours, and one of them can't stand it
anymore, so she snaps. She loses control. And she does something about all that
unresolved sexual tension." I carefully laid my hand on his thigh, stroking
with my fingers, He jumped. His skin was warm, the heat radiating through the
thin cotton-poly on his suit pants. My hand traveled upwards until it made
contact with the rapidly hardening object tenting his fly. He jumped again,
giving out a small yelp, and shifted in his seat. "Scully..." he groaned.

"I'm speaking...hypothetically, Mulder," I said, my breath quickening.

"Speaking?"

I unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed over, straddling him, but making sure he
could still see out the windsheild. He moaned as I ground my hips into his
erection; I took his face between my hands and kissed him, tilting my head so
he could see the road. His tongue pushed through my teeth, exploring my mouth
hungrily as I did the same to his. His mouth tasted salty and earthy from the
sunflower seeds he'd been eating earlier.

I pulled back and looked at him, breathing hard. "Mulder-" I started.

"Shut up," he said. He pushed his mouth down on mine again as hard as he could.
I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off as he let go of the steering wheel with
one hand. His hand started at my waist and traveled up my stomach to my
breasts, which were still annoyingly encased in white lace; he ran his fingers
over my hard nipples, hot under the cloth. 

We were both panting now. I reached down and undid his pants and pulled down
his boxers, taking his swollen erection between my hands. I broke the kiss and
smiled at him as I lowered my mouth down to his cock, licking the swollen head
briefly before burying it in my mouth. He groaned and rocked with pleasure as
my tongue swirled the shaft. I could feel his free hand unzipping my skirt and
pulling it down along with my panties. He pulled me off of his cock and kissed
me again, his eyes never straying from the road.

I raised myself up then, still straddling him, and lowered myself down again,
burying him in me. His hardness and heat wonderfully filled me. He moaned
loudly as I fell into a rhythm, the constant strokes sending a pulse of
pleasure radiating throughout my body. He thrust his tongue into my mouth as I
moved harder and faster. I was close.

He broke the kiss and I buried my face in his neck, still moving on top of him.
"Come for me, Scully," he whispered. His breath was hot in my ear.

Suddenly I came, and the world stopped; all there was was me and him, hot and
wet. Spasms of pleasure rocked my body, so many times I lost count, and his
body convulsed and spurted his stream inside me. We shook together, moaning in
unison as our simultaneous orgasm flung us away from our senses.

Gradually the feeling faded, and I relaxed on top of him, limp and exhausted.
Miraculously, we were still on the road; Mulder's eyes had never strayed from
the car in front of him. I pulled off of him, and his cock, to longer hard,
slipped out of me. I crawled into my seat and started putting my clothes back
on as he zipped up his pants.

"Ah, Scully," he said, panting. "There weren't any parallels between your
hypothetical situation and us, were there?"

I smiled as I pulled up my pantyhose. "No, none, why do you ask?"

He chuckled and flicked on his turn signal, exiting the turnpike.

"Mulder, where are we going?" I asked. "We're not even close to our exit."

He headed towards a small, run-down looking Stay 'n' Save. "You don't actually
think that after that, we're still going to Philly, do you?"

I smiled.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love driving?

**
end 
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