TITLE: SCENTS AND SENSIBILITIES ATURHO: SANDREW E-MAIL: UNKNOWN RATING: NC-17 Standard Disclaimer (yiddish accent optional)- That I should be so talented as to have created characters such as Mulder and Scully - this would have been a wonderful thing. They are the property of Ten-Thirteen, FOX and whomever else. God forbid I should infringe on Chris Carter's copywright- my mother would give me such a pinch. Many thanks and much love to Weeble, who helped me immesurably with this and to EMXC who first distributed it. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Fox Mulder usually didn't mind his nose. It was, he had to admit, a sizable nose, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was a tall man and as such, had pretty big feet and hands, too. He did, though, have a nose like a shark; a nose able to discern scents that barely even registered with most people. Though it was sometimes a valuable tool in his field of endeavor, it was, at times a drawback. Rotting corpses were a problem for Mulder. As were waste reclamation plants and sewers. As was Scully. He smiled to himself, knowing exactly the look that would appear on his partner's face if should she ever hear the situation put quite that way. But it was true. Decomposition, defecation and other odors could render him almost unconscious; ineffective and incapable of thought or movement, except with heroic amounts of resolve and concentration. So could the light, sweet, intoxicating scent of Dana Katherine Scully. Her strawberry shampoo, powder scented antiperspirant, mint toothpaste and her softly floral perfume were part of it; they accented, but never quite concealed the scent of her hair, her perspiration, her breath, or scent of body. The latter with its pungent, cyclical, addition of her menses and, upon occasion, the musky tang of arousal. As if any combination of these didn't require specific mental blocking techniques to keep him sane, the warm, damp scent of her core, just wafting by on a stream of air as she passed, inevitably left him hard and aching. Sometimes, when the havoc wreaked by these scents on his mind and body via his oh-so-sensitive nose got too distracting for him to work, he'd excuse himself to the men's room and allow his imagination to run wild and take his body with it. Often he fantasized about a locked office door, Scully perched on the edge of her desk, her pantyhose a puddle on the floor, her smoothly muscled legs draped over his shoulders, her breath coming in small, quick pants as he buried his nose in her; absorbing her scent, coaxing forth her desire, bringing her pleasure. That was usually enough to facilitate release of the pent up pressure in his loins; his cock shrinking to a more manageable, less potentially embarrassing state. Today, however, was different. Worse. Today, Fox Mulder hated his nose. It was the first really warm day of the season, and, instead of her usual tailored straight skirts with their matching finger-tip length blazers, Scully was wearing "the suit". Pale peach in color and made of some whispery fabric, , he thought, the skirt was slightly flared and moved liquidly around her thighs, falling just short of her knees. The cropped jacket stopped at the top of her hips, showing off her trim waist and softly rounded behind. The lighter fabric allowed more of the scent of her body to reach him; the warm temperatures made the open windows the source of a river of air that carried Scully's scent to him in a rippling stream of olfactory sensation. It was torture. Returning to the office after yet another bathroom run of what was proving to be a tough day, Mulder pushed the door open soundlessly and was greeted by an amazing sight. Scully stood, sideways to the door, with a tiny, pump-clad foot on a chair, skirt at midthigh. She had her body twisted away from him around the outside of that thigh adjusting a garter strap. The laws of physics should have somehow precluded Mulders instant and excruciating arousal. It just wasn't fair. But as life was not fair, neither was nature. Nature had Mulder's body reacting, quickly and strongly, to his wayward, over-eager imagination; wondering what it might be like to run his hand up Scully's silky leg, past the edge of her stocking . It occurred to him then, this helped explain why there was more of her in the air today; no barrier of nylon between the place of his dreams and the air of their office. Just a thin layer of... cotton? silk? =damp= silk? Completing her task, Scully brought her foot down off her chair and shook her skirt back into place, settling it with a wriggle of her hips. Mulder bit back a groan and backed away from the door. Another trip to the men's room then, this time with a new twist on an old favorite. PART TWO Dana Scully plopped into her chair with a sigh. She was =hot=. It was warm in the office, true, but she also had a low-grade state of arousal going. . When weather or mood kept her in the office for lunch, she spent her hour on the Internet; chatting, checking news, movie reviews, medical updates and her newsgroup. She had recently found a group of particularly talented amateur erotica writers and was really enjoying her "trips" there. She had finally stopped lurking and posted a story of her own. She had smiled as she read the positive feedback on and the editorial suggestions for her little fantasy And then she'd reread her posting just for fun. Maybe 'fun' wasn't the right word, because now, in her stuffy office, she was damp, achy and alone. Thank god Mulder wasn't in the room with her, though. It seemed that somehow, every time she was reading a particular steamy piece, or was nearing the climax of a story, she would feel his gaze upon her. She would look up and he would be watching her, his expression somewhat contemplative but mostly unfathomable. Feeling just too squidgy to sit, she decided to adjourn to the ladies room to "freshen up". Mulder returned to the office, peeking around the door in hope/fear of an encore. Finding the coast clear, he went to work on one of the many files littering his desk. Even as he tried to concentrate on his work, he swore that he could detect that most distracting of scents...aroused Dana. His body tightened top to bottom as he thought of her sitting, ladylike at her desk, reading whatever that was she read at lunch, her arousal dampening her... =SNAP= The pencil in his hand broke. Unable to find one on his desk, he went to Scully's desk, reaching for one of the many, needle sharp ones she kept in a pencil cup there. He bumped her desk, the motion jarring her mouse and cancelling her screen saver. The document looked unfamiliar. Feeling only a vague twinge of conscience, he sat in her chair and began to read: "He moved his face down between her thighs. The fingers of his large,graceful hands kneaded her stocking-clad thighs as they lay open to him, her legs draped over his wide, broadcloth covered shoulders. He nuzzled her; the crinkly hair,engorged outer edges and slick inner lips parting under the tender pressure. He used his nose to tease her, probe her, penetrate her; rough, masculine sounds of appreciation issuing from his throat. His lips and tongue finally joined that wonderful, talented nose in forays up and down her cleft. She could not suppress a whimper as she drew closer to the precipice of orgasm. >From her partly reclined position, she could see just the top of his head. At her moan, he lifted his head slightly, one amused hazel eye peering at her from beneath silky brown strands, his usually tamed hair falling forward onto her mons; his chestnut locks a surprisingly erotic contrast against her red...." Mulder's eyes widened, his breath coming faster as he groped for the mouse and zoomed to the pieces header: "Whose Desk?" by DKS This is my first post, so please be gentle with me. Ive had this fantasy rolling around in my head for more than a year now, and finally, with help from Ms.J. and GreenEyes, Ive put it in postable form. Praise appreciated, of course at DSK@ols.com. Enjoy." Mulder felt pole-axed. At least that's what came closest to explaining what he felt. There was a pole in his pants, and he felt like a tree felled by an axe. . He began reading from the beginning. Scully returned to find Mulder sitting at her desk, slack jawed and perspiring. Scully rushed to her desk to confirm what she dreaded; over his shoulder she could see the last line of her erotica slashing across the screen. She was speechless. What =could= she say? How could she explain this away? She backed away from the chair as Mulder moved, plastering herself to one of the ubiquitous grey file cabinets that lined the office. Mulder rose, and slowly, silently made his way to the office door. At the door, he looked back at her, his expression unreadable. She remained stock still, uncertain what to say, if anything. He reached for the doorknob. "Mulder" she breathed, afraid he'd leave; afraid he'd stay. He turned the lock with a snick that reverberated in the silence of the office. His lips curving in a beautiful, breathtakingly sensuous smile, he walked back to where she stood blushing. Putting his hands on the file drawers at shoulder level on each side of her, he leaned close to her, nuzzling her cheek, her temple; the warmth of his breath in her ear making her shudder. He withdrew slightly, hazel eyes met blue, as his lips hovered tantalizingly close, with just the tip of his nose touching hers. "Your desk, or mine?" End *****