TITLE: Stripped (Snooping IV) AUTHOR: Susanne Barringer EMAIL: sbarringer@usa.net ARCHIVE: Gossamer - this version instead of the list version. Anywhere okay with these headers attached. CLASSIFICATION: SR KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully Romance, Smut RATING: NC-17 SPOILERS: none SUMMARY: Part IV of the Snooping series. Mulder and Scully take snooping to a new level. ;) DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox. No infringement intended. NOTE: This is the last story in a series composed of "Snooping," "Sleuthing," and "Scrimmage" all of which are available at my web page: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442 This is intended to be part of the series, but if you're in it just for the smut (not that there's anything wrong with that), you can probably understand enough of this to get the gist. THANKS to the readers on whom I foisted this story in its rough stages so that they could reassure me it was okay--Sue, Kristen, Alanna, and Sharon. More thanks to Sue for pretty much making the whole thing work, to Kristen for suggesting many of the ideas, to Alanna for her ability to spot smut logistics problems, and to Sharon for general smut inspiration. ________ Stripped by Susanne Barringer I have no idea what possessed me on this particular night to decide to toy with Mulder's desire for me. Six years together and a thousand innuendoes tossed my way and I chose tonight to follow through. I don't know what it is, just something about the idea of him nosing through my things while I wasn't there, touching my belongings, stroking my lingerie--it all turns me on. Okay, not at first. At first I was absolutely livid. Yes, that's hypocritical because I had few qualms at all about making myself at home in his closet, drawers, and bathroom. All I know is, I came home and saw the closet door open and hit the roof. The watering can he left behind didn't help matters any. It was just sitting there in a place where he wouldn't have left it under any naturally occurring circumstance, tucked away in the corner next to my bookshelf. There isn't a plant within eight feet of that spot, no reason at all for him to be over there unless he was looking at things he shouldn't. I rejected my first impulse, however, to call him up and ream him a new asshole. No, he needed to suffer. He needed that guilt to fester for a little while, agonize over the knowledge that he had left behind clues, stress out over the idea that I might or might not have figured it out. By then I was so angry that I totally forgot that I had done the exact same thing to him. That seemed so different anyway, so far away from *him* going through *my* stuff, that I don't think I even made the connection. Then, at some point during our confrontation in my bedroom, it all became erotic. We were standing there, facing off, and I unintentionally let my own guilt slip. Something about that moment, about the two of us both willing to cross the line in order to find out more about each other, told me everything I needed to know, everything I had wondered about, regarding what Mulder and I really mean to each other. So, I said that thing about having a green teddy just like the black one he'd found, and Mulder freaked and took off. I guess it was stupid of me, but I honestly am shocked that he reacted quite that way, although part of me suspects that he's still standing outside the door trying to decide what to do. I confused the poor man, but he'll be back. I think. I don't even want to contemplate what it says about our relationship that we have to snoop through each other's belongings in order to feel like we really know each other. That is pathetic. But, when I went through Mulder's things and found that he kept all my notes, that he had photos of me stashed away like treasure, that he had bought massage oil with me in mind, well, I did know something then that I hadn't before. Which is exactly what brought us to this moment. As if on cue, there's a pounding at the door. I take a deep breath and realize this is it. He wouldn't come back unless he'd worked it all out in his mind, and my impulsive decision to take a chance is about to pay off. "Hi," I say, trying to be clear that it's okay that he came back. More than okay judging by my heart pounding and the dizziness I'm battling. He clears his throat and looks at me intensely. "I'd like to see the green one." His voice is controlled, strong, and he sounds a hundred times more confident than he did before, which only serves to send desire soaring through my body. Dear God, it really is going to happen. As it turns out, I'm already wearing the green one, the green teddy. I don't know why, exactly. There's no way I could have predicted that my intention to totally fry Mulder for his lack of respect for my privacy was going to end up this way, but I wore the green one anyway. Sometimes having something like that on is good for the attitude. Cosmo would approve, I think, of the lingerie I wear under my power suits. Mulder stands and waits, a look of panic suddenly crossing his face, and I realize while I'm standing here assessing my wardrobe choice, he's thinking I'm about to slam the door in his face. "I'm wearing it," I say quickly and the change I see in his expression drives the breath right out of me. He grabs me by the upper arms, pushing me backwards into the apartment. Then, without taking his eyes or hands off me, he kicks the door shut behind us. I do believe I have created a monster. His lips are on mine so fast that by the time I register that part, his hands are already grabbing my ass and pulling me toward him. He keeps pushing me backwards until my calves slam up against the coffee table and I hear magazines fall to the floor. Part of me wants to stop and pick them up, no matter how crazy that sounds, but then Mulder has pulled away and he's looking at me in a way I have never seen before and I think I'm about to detonate. As Mulder kisses me again, his hands wander over places I never thought they'd be. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck and press myself against him so that I can feel him and I do my own wandering over the landscape of his lips, tongue, teeth. The magazines are forgotten until he steps on one, which slides across the carpet, sending him sprawling onto the sofa, then to the floor. He drags me with him and I end up on top of him. One of his legs is still resting at an awkward angle across the sofa and the other is pinned under the coffee table which is now lying on its side. He bursts out laughing, the shaking of it full in his chest which I feel against my breasts, against the lacy fabric of the green one. "Geez, Scully, your apartment is a mess," he says with a smile, attempting to untangle himself from the clutter. "Are you okay?" I ask, as he rubs the back of his head, his face a grimace of pain. I have a momentary flash of Mulder getting knocked out or breaking his leg before we get to the good part. Somehow that would seem entirely appropriate to our relationship. "Yeah, I just knocked my head on the table," he says. I bend down to plant a light kiss on his lips, and he reaches up to pull my head down, pressing up hard against my mouth. His tongue strokes against mine and I run my fingers through his hair and my mind drifts off to places unknown and uncharted. I am settled across his hips and as he struggles to get his leg free from under the coffee table I feel the hardness of his erection move against my thigh and I wonder how we've ended up like this so quickly after six years of pretending we never would. We're crammed between the sofa and the tipped-over coffee table and any major movement on either of our parts is likely to get one of us skewered through the head with a coffee table leg. I reluctantly pull myself up and off of Mulder to take us somewhere more comfortable and less dangerous before things get to the point where stopping becomes impossible. I take Mulder's hand and pull him to his feet, then turn toward the bedroom, picking my way around all the stuff from the coffee table now scattered across the floor. This is our second trip to the bedroom tonight, but this one couldn't feel any more different. Mulder's arm is around my waist and he pulls me tight against his side as we walk and this time our journey is all about passion instead of anger. The bedroom is lit only by the light from the living room and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I feel Mulder's eyes on me as I turn to face him. I shiver with the knowledge of what is about to occur and how much, all of a sudden, I need it. Mulder steps toward me, his eyes darker than the darkness, but I move back away from his touch, grab the bottom of my sweater and peel it off to reveal the infamous green one. "You said you wanted to see it," I say, and my voice is deeper than I've ever heard before and I wonder if maybe it isn't coming up right out of the place that is burning in my center. The green teddy is, as I promised, cut low. Very low. So low that Mulder's eyes grow wide in amazement at the rounded cups holding my breasts up and apart, the neckline plunging down between them practically to the floor. "Fuck," he says with awe, which one wouldn't expect to be possible with that word, but something about it sends my mind reeling and I lose all sense of myself. "Yes," I answer, "That's the plan." I'm not quite sure where I'm getting these lines from because not only have I never talked like this but I've never particularly wanted to talk like this, but the effect is worth it as I watch Mulder sway on his feet and I worry once again that he's going to pass out on me. "Let me see it all," he says in a rough voice that reaches out and touches me between the legs, sparking a fire that sucks in my breath and makes it impossible for me to even think about playing games any longer and I realize that the conquest has begun and I have no desire to fight, so I reach down for the button on my jeans. We're only five minutes into this thing and already I'm shedding my clothes, not only willingly but in a hurry, and a thought dances at the back of my consciousness that in the past under these circumstances I've held onto my clothes as long as humanly possible as a barrier, as a way to give myself last minute opportunities to change my mind and back away, but now I'm in such a hurry to get my jeans off that I fall to sit on the bed so I can work faster, grasping the cuffs one by one to pull as hard as I can and get them the hell off. All I know is I want Mulder to see me, I want him to look at me dressed like this, I want his eyes all over me and I never until this moment knew how much clothes were a pain in the ass and it has, after all, been six years so I don't think I need to worry about any last minute changes of mind on my part and he damn well better not change his mind either but judging by the way he just stepped beside me to stroke my back as I wrestle with my jeans and if the bulge in his pants is hard evidence, so to speak, I don't think I have anything to worry about. When I finally stand up I realize that the small piece of fabric between my legs isn't nearly enough to hold the wet desire that I feel, and, in fact, there isn't enough fabric in the world to stop this, and Mulder's eyes take me in from top to bottom, all of me, wearing the goddamned green one that started all this, the green one I picked out with just this scenario in mind but not even remotely in mind as a real possibility, and then he looks up at me and he smiles and I melt into the puddle of wetness running through the center of my body, up up up up into my brain, my mouth, my lips, all of which I want on him now and I wonder how I've gotten to this point where I have totally lost my mind. But Mulder is looking at me like I'm a chocolate cheesecake and by God that's perfectly okay with me, and I think for a moment that perhaps I should be wearing a sign around my neck that says "Eat me," like in Alice in Wonderland and I think that Lewis Carroll would probably be rolling over in his grave at this particular usage of his story but then I remember that the evidence shows he was pretty much a pervert, in thought if not deed, so he just might think it was funny after all and that makes me laugh out loud and Mulder looks at me curiously and wonders what I am laughing about like some kind of Mad Hatter and oh shit the casserole is still in the oven but let the damn thing burn to a crisp because I'm not leaving this spot as long as I'm chocolate cheesecake and that makes me laugh again. I feel like I have laughed more tonight than I have in the last thousand years, and I have to wonder where these thoughts are coming from and what has happened to suddenly make me so insane and so not in control of my thoughts or feelings or the scorching heat between my legs or the trembling that Mulder's gaze is causing or the feeling that I absolutely must be fucked and I wish he would hurry up and eat me--I mean touch me--and touch me over and over and over until the cows come home or at least until I do and then Mulder looks up from studying my body and looks into my eyes and I see the cows coming home in a big way, and I know then that I could laugh for the next thousand years out of sheer joy at this moment and all of my thoughts zoom around in my brain and I can't really catch any of them and I end up saying only one word. "Mulder." And then he is pressed against me and his lips are all over me and his hand is between my legs and now I feel like I'm the one who is going to pass out because I have no breath, no thought, no nothing and there's all that zooming in my head but then for some reason I remember that this teddy has a snap crotch and for a moment I am embarrassed about how trashy that seems, but then I see Mulder's face when his hands fumble across it and I see in that moment that he just might love me more than he ever has and I hope to God it's not just because I have a snap crotch although I know him better than that so I decide the snap crotch is probably just a bonus added to my other fine qualities and he wastes no time unsnapping in any case and my knees give way when his hand comes totally onto me, warm and steady between my legs, and he has to actually catch me in his arms to keep me from slipping to the floor in a heap of need. And I feel myself in his strong arms and want to bawl my eyes out at how strong he has always been and how much I wish he didn't always have to be, but right now his tongue is battling desperately with mine and his hand is stroking me where I used to be snapped and I figure I'll worry about that another time, and he carries me to the bed and sets me down gently, so gently like crystal or porcelain or something equally fragile, and I so do not want to be fragile right now because I want to be taken rough and hard like this is the first and last time ever, though I say a quick prayer that it is really only the former and not the latter. And God his lips are hot against my neck, my shoulders, the part of my breasts rising above the teddy and his hand is still there and it hasn't moved away and if it does I think I might have to scream bloody murder, but no, he is not stopping and he is grinding his fingers into me in a way that can only be called phenomenal and I think about zooming cows and Alice in Wonderland and it all gets mixed up in my brain with the thought that all his clothes are still on and it's not going to work very well that way at least from my own experience. So I squirm away from that miraculous hand of his and kneel in front of him and grab his shirt and pull it up and Mulder laughs through his shirt which gets hung up below his ears, just like I am laughing, enough for a thousand years, and he undoes his button and fly while I complete the shirt removal and I can't help but grab him just as his jeans slide below his hips because he is so fucking beautiful and I want to know what he feels and tastes like and I touch him and revel in the softness and shape and gorgeous magnificence and I think of Alice again and "Eat me" and I figure that I don't really actually need that kind of invitation. Mulder is kneeling on the bed still trying to work his pants and boxers completely down below his hips but I stay on my knees and lean down to take him in my mouth like I am praying at some sort of shrine which I am in a way and I figure that to wait any longer is to deny myself what I really want which is ridiculous since he is kneeling right here in front of me, and it is standing there in all its full glory, and I really think I've never seen a man quite so perfect and if this isn't perfect then nothing can or will be so I might as well take a taste of sweet perfection and keep on praying. So I wrap my lips around his cock and take the length of him onto my tongue and tease him by tracing circles around him and then I draw him into my throat and then tease him some more and Mulder's hands stop their attempt at disrobing and fall onto my hair and he groans low and deep like he first did when I told him my green one was cut to there and I feel the vibration run through his cock and across my tongue which totally amazes me and is there anything in the world that feels better than this? Well, yes, as it turns out there is because Mulder leans forward over my back and curls his arm over my ass and his hand comes between my legs and his fingers find their place again and he begins stroking me in goddamn just the right way and with his cock in my mouth I feel like I am brimming, which reminds me of coffee for some reason and I imagine Mulder's cock tasting like dark coffee, strong and potent and with a definite kick and I taste the salty cream of the single drop of semen released in anticipation, coffee with milk, and god almighty the cows are coming home after all. And then his fingers reach inside me, deep inside where it is stormy and hot and I feel them touch my soul and there are lights and sirens and chocolate cheesecake and I feel the ocean surging and I'm not sure where I am but there is pressure and pain right where there should always be and all through me and I sense I am screaming but maybe that's the sirens and Mulder is huge and blistering in my throat and his fingers are stroking me inside and everything converges into a dark tunnel with bright lights in the middle and fire, heat, inferno spreading through my body and fuck fuck fuck. Then he pulls his hand away and pulls his cock from me and there is a rush of cold into the inferno and the taste of him lingers in my mouth like strong coffee, then flesh and movement and I am straddling him as he kneels and he tugs down on the teddy so my breasts are exposed and his mouth is rough and burning, teeth scraping my nipples and then his cock is right where I want it and I feel it just there and I press down hard to take him inside because I can't stand another minute of this and the sirens are way too loud or maybe that's the cows. And now he is hard inside of me like steel fire and I move down to take him as far into me as heaven and there are something like five or nine thrusts but I have no idea how to count anymore because I am coming with him inside of me, the whole thing seeming like it must be a dream because just a few seconds ago I was coming some other different way but this one works just as well and I grab his bare shoulders and ride him all the way and I hear voices, mine and his, clamoring over the rush of something in my head that sounds like a volcano, but, no, I feel like a volcano and the lava-heat runs through all of me and my muscles ache and I am slamming against him, his cock so damn hard and deep and he is slamming up against me and holy shit I hear him shout something but I know only my cries echoing through my body and between my legs and between his legs and the coffee-cream heat of his ejaculation deeper than the ocean inside of me and I feel my soul laugh and a thousand years pass in an instant. ***** When my thoughts clear and I am able to see again, I see him, his warm eyes staring at me and loving me and looking like he is in shock. I am, as I thought, sitting on his lap, although how we got this way I have no idea. But he is inside me, and that part is right, and the logistics of it are unimportant. He shifts to pull out and I think I want to object but I'm too exhausted to decide. His jeans are still pulled down only to mid-thigh, and he lifts me off of him and moves to a sitting position so he can remove them and his boxers. I feel silly for not having allowed him to do that earlier, but at some point I lost common sense, pretty early on I believe. I'm not sure I've even had one coherent thought since we entered the bedroom. Mulder tosses his pants and boxers to the floor then pulls me down next to him. He helps me remove the green teddy, which has bunched around my waist, so that we are both, at last, naked. He presses his long body against mine and I tuck my head below his chin and stare at the small tuft of hair that grows just in the center of his collarbone. Neither of us says a word for the longest time; there really isn't much to say after all and I am perfectly content to wait. "Do you know what I found when I went looking through your things, Scully?" he asks finally, his words falling like cotton balls into my hair. "What did you find?" It seems like ages ago that we had this conversation, but it was just tonight, not even a few hours ago. It seems like that was another person, another lifetime, another relationship entirely. "Your junk drawer," he says softly, and for some reason I am not totally mortified as I should be. "That one little piece of you that defies order and restraint. It was like proof that you could let go." "You think I'm too restrained?" I ask. "Scully, your shoes are in alphabetical order!" he says, tilting my chin up to look me in the eyes. "Yeah, well, no one's supposed to know that," I reply, knowing full well that there is something ridiculous about alphabetizing shoes. "So, is that what you were looking for? Proof that I could be unrestrained?" I ask, thinking how odd it is that he didn't know I was capable of that, even though I never particularly wanted him to know. "I think so, but I didn't know it at the time." "I think you found it tonight," I say, laughing and tightening my arms around him. There wasn't an ounce of restraint in what just happened between us, that's for damn sure. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, kissing me lightly. "Excellent snooping, Agent Mulder." And I laugh again because it feels so good to laugh, it has felt good all night, it feels like maybe the thing that has been missing for so long. Restraint be damned. Mulder pulls back and watches me laugh, then grins at me. He kisses me again, his lips brushing mine with the slightest of touches. It is a totally new experience after the desperate groping of the evening. "Do you know what I found when I snooped though your things?" I ask him, turning serious again for what I'm about to say. "What?" His eyes are dark as he looks at me, his hands stroke my arms and shoulders. "Proof that you loved me." He looks at me intently, honestly. "Is that what you were looking for, Scully?" "I think so," I answer, repeating his words to me, "but I didn't know it at the time." "I guess you found what you were looking for tonight too, then," he says smiling at me in a way that makes the heat rise between my legs again, and I start to think that maybe another round is in order. "We're damn good investigators," I say, impressed. "I don't know about you, Agent Scully, but I could use a little bit more evidence." He rolls onto his back to pull me on top of him and runs his fingers in feathery circular motions down my spine in a way that sends my blood pounding and I start to feel my thoughts squishing together again like waxy stars under a scorching sun and I begin to wonder if I will ever be sane again, not that it matters, because this kind of insanity is perfectly fine with me. "Evidence is good," I say, grabbing his bottom lip between mine and tasting it slowly and carefully like I have wanted to do for years but forgot to do earlier because I was distracted by other things. "Much better than crazy theories." Mulder says nothing, just gives in to my kisses, and my thoughts start to swirl in spiraling gusts of pleasure and heat as I feel the insanity beginning all over again. END ____________ Feedback? Please? sbarringer@usa.net All my fanfic available at: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dreamworld/2442