Title: Tailor-Made Author: OKayVal Email: okayval@yahoo.com Website: http://donnilee.tripod.com/okayval Rating: Adults only, please! Archive: Honored; just tell me where Category: RST, completely PWP Pairings: Mulder/Scully Spoilers: None. Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill. Summary: More than a suit gets altered... Many thanks to xdksfan and Emily Sim for their rockin' beta. This one is for Tali, with love and endless thanks. Happy Birthday! "You've written your own directions and whistled the rules of change..." --R.E.M., "All the Way to Reno"-- *** The evening traffic on M Street crawls along at its usual snail's pace, but Mulder doesn't seem to mind. He's happily explaining the mysteries of ghost photography to her, his long fingers tapping on the steering wheel to punctuate his words. Mulder's hands fascinate her and it's only when she notices that his fingers have ceased their rhythmic motion that she realizes he's stopped speaking and is now staring at her while the car idles at a red light. Embarrassed at being caught, she turns away from him to look out the window and discovers they are no longer on M Street. They're now driving through a neighborhood she doesn't recognize, on a street cluttered with small, drab storefronts. "Where are we going?" she asks. "I have to make a stop before I take you home, Scully. Have to drop off my new suit at the tailor's." "You went shopping, Mulder?" she teases. "Out of necessity, Scully. That Hawkins case did a number on my black suit, if you recall." She recalls it all too well: the jagged rips across his shirt and pants, and blood everywhere. She's thankful that Mulder's suit was the only casualty that day. Parking seems scarce, but Mulder somehow manages to locate a space and shoehorns the sedan into it. He opens the trunk and retrieves a plastic clothing bag which, she notes, is stamped with the logo of a high-end menswear store. Mulder's attention to his wardrobe is surprising, because he seems unaware of how good he looks no matter what he's wearing. "Why do you come out here for alterations?" she asks. "Because he's the best," Mulder nods his head to the right in the direction of a small storefront. "Been using this guy ever since I got out of the Academy. He made the cheap suits I wore back then look like they cost a lot more than I actually paid for them." The small shop is cluttered and has the well-worn look of a place that's been in business a long time. There is a small rack of suits awaiting alterations against one wall, framed photographs of satisfied customers arranged randomly along another, and a large three-way mirror in the back corner of the room. An older man with alert eyes and a brisk manner emerges from behind a curtained doorway in the rear wall. "Hey, Mr. Sherman," Mulder says, shaking the plastic bag at him. Mr. Sherman nods, his eyes fixed on her. "Now I see who you are trying to impress, Mr. Mulder." Mulder grins and her cheeks grow warm. The tailor waves dismissively at Mulder, who disappears behind the gray curtain with his clothing bag. She strolls around the shop and studies the framed photos on the walls. Everyone looks happy and smartly dressed. She is disappointed that none of the pictures show a young FBI agent in a cheap suit. "He's not on the wall, but he's a good customer," Mr. Sherman observes. "He buys a lot of new suits." "He ruins quite a few of them in our line of work, I'm afraid," she says, wondering if the tailor knows what Mulder does for a living. "You have a good eye for clothes, too, but your jacket is too long," Mr. Sherman says. "I'm sorry?" She looks down and inspects her attire. She's wearing her black suit, with the shorter skirt and the fitted blazer that falls just below her hips. Her suits are well-made, but the woman who does her alterations has never commented on the length of her jackets. "You're petite," says Mr. Sherman. "A shorter jacket would make your legs look longer. You would look taller. Let me show you." He beckons her to approach the mirrors and she does, intrigued. Mr. Sherman tucks the ends of her jacket up to a spot well above the curve of her hip, folding the fabric with rapid, skilled hands. As she admires her reflection, Mulder appears behind her in the mirror, and it's obvious that he's admiring her, too. "What do you think?" asks Mr. Sherman. "Perfect," Mulder answers before she can respond. There's an odd tone to his voice and she turns away from the mirror to face him. His gaze roams her body freely and she grows warm under his scrutiny. He's quite a feast for the eyes himself. His new suit is black and drapes smoothly around his tall frame. She meets his eyes and feels something electric in the look that passes between them. "You see? More leg." Mr. Sherman says, breaking the spell that Mulder seems to be casting over her. The tailor smoothes out the ends of her jacket and motions for her to step away from the mirrors so Mulder can take her place. She does as he asks, and Mr. Sherman mutters at Mulder to stand still as he tugs and pins at the sleek black fabric of the suit. Mr. Sherman orders Mulder to remove the jacket and turn around so that his back is to the mirror. The tailor stands in front of Mulder to study the fit of the trousers. "Enough room?" he asks. She can't help herself; her gaze drops to Mulder's crotch and she wonders how much room he does need. She looks up and meets Mulder's eyes which are dark and unreadable. The tailor folds and pins the trouser hems and steps back. "So?" he asks her. "Perfect," she replies, still looking directly at Mulder. His lips curl into a tiny smile. "Done," Mr. Sherman says, shooing Mulder off the pedestal and waving him toward the dressing room. Mulder is out of sight for only a moment when there is a loud curse from behind the curtain. "Mulder?" "I think I stepped on something." "It's probably just a pin." "You'd better come here and check it out, Scully. I might need a tetanus shot." This man has been drugged and shot at, and gets the crap kicked out of him regularly, and he's whining about a pin? She shrugs at the tailor and steps behind the curtain. There is a small dressing room hidden behind a second curtain; she pulls that one aside and peeks in. Mulder leans against the wall, pouting slightly. "Mulder, I'm sure it's nothing." She reaches toward his leg, intending to inspect the bottom of his foot, but his arm encircles her and yanks the dressing room curtain closed. She turns to him in surprise and he pulls her close against him. "Scully," he says in a ragged whisper. He leans in and kisses her boldly. Stunned, she doesn't move, doesn't breathe. Mulder's tongue nudges and licks at her lips, enticing her to open them. Her mind warns her to resist, but his mouth is hot and insistent, and she has waited too long for this; she parts her lips and welcomes his tongue with her own. The heat from the kiss spreads through her and Mulder's hard length prods against her belly. She runs her hands over his shirt, feeling his body heat beneath the fabric, then slides them down to his hips, against the smooth wool of his new trousers. Mulder jerks his hips against her and breaks the kiss with a moan. "Everything ok back there?" Mr. Sherman calls from the front of the store. His voice slices through the haze of pleasure and she tries to squirm out of Mulder's grasp. "Mulder, wait." He begins to nibble at her ear, and she keeps pulling back against his embrace until he reluctantly lets go of her. "Hello?" Mr. Sherman calls again. "Everything's fine." She forces herself to speak, even as she continues to inch away from Mulder. She won't be able to control herself if she doesn't leave the dressing room now. "You need to take me home, Mulder," she says, in as steady a voice as she can muster. "And then what?" he asks. She merely looks at him and what he sees in her eyes makes him groan. She walks out of the dressing room before he can pounce on her again. Her whole body tingles and she almost forgets to straighten her clothing before opening the outer curtain and returning to the front of the shop. Mr. Sherman gives her a knowing look that says he is nobody's fool and she blushes. Mulder soon reappears in his old suit, holding the new one in his hand. Her glance strays to the bulge in his pants which says that he is still aroused, and she hopes that the tailor doesn't notice. Mulder's eyes blaze as he hands the suit to Mr. Sherman and waits for his claim ticket. "You come see me the next time you buy a new suit," Mr. Sherman tells her as he hands Mulder the small slip of paper. She barely has time to reply, because Mulder grabs her arm, practically dragging her out of the store and back to the car. He drives too fast and her mind is as blurry as the view from the windows as they race through the streets of D.C. Everything is happening so fast, and they should be talking about this, because the step they are about to take will alter their relationship forever. But instead they ride in silence, and she stops trying to make sense out of it when Mulder's hand begins to glide slowly along her left thigh. He's still driving too fast and she hopes he doesn't get them killed before they reach her apartment. They arrive at her building in one piece and she manages to unlock her apartment door even though Mulder's lips are hot against the back of her neck and his hands have crept around to cup her breasts. They stumble inside and he closes the door and leans against it. Drawing her into his arms, he bends low to capture her mouth with his, and she savours the fiery taste of him. Mulder's large hands roam down her back and clutch at her ass, and she shivers when she feels his erection, thick and hard. He releases her mouth and begins to grind against her. She writhes in his arms and tugs at his jacket; as wonderful as he looks in suits, right now he needs to shed this one. Mulder releases her and peels the jacket off, then loosens his tie in one swift motion and flings it to the floor. He yanks his shirt open, sending buttons flying, and she runs her hands greedily across his firm chest. His breath comes in harsh pants as she touches his skin and his eyes are pools of dark need. Her hands journey lower and she unfastens his belt. His fingers follow hers to unzip his trousers and free his rigid cock. Inflamed now, Mulder reaches under her skirt and tears away her nylons. His long fingers fumble for the waist band of her panties and he frantically tugs them down. She wriggles out of them and he grabs her by the waist and turns them around so that she has the door at her back for support. He lifts her up and she wraps her legs around him, rubbing her wet center along his cock. She shivers as his hot length slides across her swollen lips, knowing that he is about to take her right here without stopping to undress her. She tilts her hips and Mulder pushes inside her with a firm thrust. They both gasp at the sensation when Mulder begins to move, rocking her back against the door with each stroke. She turns liquid from his hard heat buried within her and her orgasm hits suddenly, sharp and fast. She clings to him as the tremors jolt through her. Mulder grips her tightly until they subside, then begins thrusting again, urgently, until he comes hard, shuddering so fiercely that the door rattles and shakes behind her. When she can catch her breath, Mulder is trembling against her, and she realizes he's still holding her up on unsteady legs. She uncoils herself from his waist and he sets her down carefully. "Wow." His eyes are bright and tender. "Yes," she agrees. He kisses her softly. "In fact, it was almost perfect." "Almost?" She cocks an eyebrow at him in amusement. This should be good. "This isn't quite what I imagined you wearing when we made love for the first time, Scully," he says, fingering the lapel of her jacket. Her heart skips at his words and she can't hide her smile. "And what did you picture me wearing, Mulder?" "Nothing," he says, with the barest hint of a leer. "You know, that's just how I imagined it, too," she says, taking his hand and leading him toward her bedroom. ***Finis*** Feedback welcomed. It's all good!