DISTRIBUTION: OK for Scully slash list archive, elsewhere by permission. Email forwarding is OK.
RATING: NC17 for F/F stuff.
SUMMARY: A midnight quickie when challenges collide. Scully can't sleep.
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox own the X-Files, not me.
FOLK REMEDY by Halrloprillalar <email@example.com>
Scully couldn't sleep. She was too hot, so she rolled over. Now she was too cold. The bed was too hard, the pillow too soft, the plumbing too loud, and dammit, that waiter must have given her regular coffee instead of decaf.
Staring at the ceiling, she tried to decide which circle of hell to consign him to--at least the eighth, along with other perpetrators of fraud, where he would spend eternity waiting on old, deaf people who ordered half a sandwich, brought their own tea bags, and never tipped.
She glanced at the clock: past two already and her meeting was at eight. Relax! she screamed inside her head. How effective. Turning back to the hot side of the bed, she punched the pillow a few times and felt a little better. But something had to be done.
TV? She couldn't sleep with it on as it was. Warm milk? Getting out of bed would only wake her up more. Count sheep? Never worked. Only one thing could save her now, relax her and allow her a few golden hours of sleep, keep her from hunting down that waiter and killing him with her bare hands.
Only one thing: orgasm.
Scully reached to the bedside table for her Hitachi Magic Wand, then changed her mind. A five minute screamer wasn't going to do the job; to fully unwind, she would have to do this the old fashioned way.
Lying on her back, she closed her eyes and began to construct a suitable fantasy. Start with...Mulder. Yeah, Mulder. In a dark grey suit, walking through the halls of the Hoover Building. Hair just so, almost curling over his forehead.
She ran a hand over the slick blue satin of her pyjamas, cupping her breast, teasing the nipple between two fingers. Mulder walked, with a jaunt in his step, a swing in his shoulders, a gleam in his eye, and a pout on his lips. Scully's other hand trailed down over her ribs, stopping as a finger dipped into her navel. Mulder came to a door, opened it, stepped inside. Oh yeah, this was going to work, she could tell. She caressed herself with both hands, feeling the tingling begin.
Behind her desk, Holly stood up, surprised. "Agent Mulder,
what--" His kiss stifled her words, and she did not
protest, winding herself around him and opening her mouth
to the invading tongue.
Ooh, squick. Not so much tongue.
Holly and Mulder continued their passionate but not
excessively sloppy kiss, becoming more dishevelled by the
moment. The door banged open and Scully strode into the
Now. Scully moved the hand from her belly down between her thighs, warming the cool fabric over her vulva with the firm pressure of her palm.
"What is going on here?" she demanded in her iciest tone.
"Scully, I'm sorry, I can explain--"
"Mulder, I wasn't talking to *you*."
The hand began a circular motion, teasing Scully's clit with just a little stimulation.
"What? Scully, what do you mean?"
She ignored him. "Holly? I'm waiting." Black suit, black
heels, arms crossed, piercing store.
"Dana, I was bad. I'm sorry." Flush and flustered, Holly
glowed with the excitement of her transgression.
"You know I'm going to have to punish you." Three steps
"Excuse me, Scully, but aren't you forgetting about me?"
Mulder stepped closer too, reaching out to take her by the
She turned quickly and slapped him across the face with an
elegantly gloved hand. Black gloves, long enough to cover
Scully sighed and pushed down on her mons for a moment, then brushed her clit with the lightest of touches. Slow, slow. Wait.
"Sit in that chair, Mulder." Stern tones. He didn't move.
She slapped him again, hard enough to snap his head back.
"I said sit down."
He did, blankly stunned. Scully took a pair of cuffs from
her belt and handed them to Holly. Mulder's eyes darted
nervously from one woman to another.
"Holly." One look was enough. Holly pulled Mulder's arms
behind him and cuffed him to the chair before he could
A deep breath did nothing to quell the rising tension. Scully moved her fingers away, not trusting her control. Instead, she ran both hands up and down her torso and thighs, savouring the slight friction on her skin.
Now for Holly. She looked so young and vulnerable in her
short red dress. No, blue dress. Red was too flashy for
work. But blue was too boring. Red. Scully pulled a riding
crop from her belt and ran it along Holly's cheek.
"You're very bad, did you know that?"
Wide eyed innocent look, a hint of tongue between red
lips. "I know. Please..."
The crop slid down between Holly's breasts, stretching the
neckline down, tracing the white cleavage. Scully flicked
it up under the hem, treating herself to a glimpse of
white underwear and creamy thighs, then drew away.
"Hold up your dress, Holly."
"Yes, Dana." The dark haired girl pulled it up slowly,
palms moving sensuously over her hips. Scully raised her
hand for the first blow.
One hand crept to Scully's waistband, slipping down inside to gather the slickness, not quite touching the swollen clit. Just wait a little longer.
"Scully, what are you doing?" Mulder called. She left Holly
and went over to him, resting one gloved palm against his
cheek where the print of her hand still remained.
"Just shut up, Mulder, and you can watch. Otherwise, I'll
gag you and stick you in the closet." He shut up and
watched, frustrated, helpless, and very aroused.
Back to Holly. Scully touched the smooth legs, the rounded
buttocks, gentle and caressing. Then she struck the first
blow, a smart smack with the crop just where the curve of
Holly's ass escaped the white cotton. The girl cried out,
a breathy "Oh!" Another sting of the crop and another and
Scully's wet fingers sought her clit again, stroking it with each lash, eager to finish but still trying to play out the fantasy.
"Touch me now." Holly's fingers found her and she came...
...and came and came.
Languidly, Scully pulled her hand up and drew it across her face, enjoying the smell of sex on her fingers. Sleep would be hers now, no problem.
As she drifted off, she decided she'd wear that black suit in the morning. Maybe Holly would be free for lunch. Maybe Holly would wear that blue dress. Red dress. And white underwear.
Oh hell, one more, *then* she'd sleep.
F I N I S
On a scale of one to ten, just how gratuitous was this? <g> firstname.lastname@example.org