Title: The Painting
Pairing: 128. Bette Porter (The L Word)/Agent Dana Scully (X-Files) Feedback: email@example.com
Disclaimer: Alas, they are not mine. The L Word belong to Showtime, while the X-Files are owned by 20th Century Fox
Summary: Scully is investigating strange occurrences at Bette's gallery. Notes: Written for 'The Pairing List That Ate Fandom Challenge' found at http://www.livejournal.com/community/ithurtsmybrain/23793.html
Dana Scully pushed up the 'Do Not Cross' police tape and slipped under it. She went inside the gallery where she quickly introduced herself to the local detectives before going to inspect the painting that had caused the FBI to get involved.
She was directed to the director's office. She knocked on the door and entered after being told to do so. The blinds were closed, casting the office in the dark save for the light coming off from the laptop screen.
"Agent Scully, FBI." Scully flashed the badge at the beautiful woman with bronze skin and long black hair, sitting behind the desk.
"Bette Porter. I'm the gallery director." She pointed toward the chair across from her. "What can I do for you, agent?"
Scully opened her jacket and sat down. "I need to see the painting, Ms. Porter. I will probably have to take it in for tests."
"I don't think that's possible. The painting has been loaned to the gallery for a two-week period. Unless you have a court order, I cannot release it."
"Ms. Porter, that painting has been connected to several crimes," Scully insisted, but inwardly she sighed. She was starting to sound perilously close to Mulder.
Bette chuckled. "With all due respect, agent, I don't see how a man getting naked and proclaiming his love for our governor can be related to a painting."
Scully smiled for a moment, but then she leaned over the table and stared at Bette. "But that's not all that happened. You've had two people trying to have sex right on your floor, a child trying to stub his mother, two girls clawing at each other, a quasi orgy with students on a school trip, and this morning's murder. All of these events occurred in front of a painting that has been on show for only 48 hors."
"The painting is not being shown anymore." Scully noted a note of regret in Bette's voice, but wasn't sure why it was there. That was when Scully really studied the other woman. Beneath her beauty and carefully applied make-up, there were dark circles, sadness and fatigue that even the penumbra couldn't hide. Scully felt a stab of pity, but she needed to focus on her job. "Would you show me the painting at least?"
Bette didn't answer. Instead she got up and went to the couch. She pulled the painting from behind the couch. The art piece was covered with white cloth. "I didn't know what else to do, and I didn't want our employees to deal with it." She brought it to the desk and slowly removed the cloth.
Both women stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the painting. Multicolor lines crossed each other on the white canvas. If there was a pattern, only the author could see it.
"I told you. The painting has nothing to do with those occurrences." Bette put a hand beneath Scully's jacket, feeling the silk shirt under her fingertips.
"Yet, you covered and hid it." Scully slid her jacket off and carelessly laid it on the chair. She turned until she was facing the other woman. She was mesmerized by the powder blue halter top that barely covered Bette's breasts.
"That was a precaution. I didn't want anyone suing the gallery over this." She moved closer and cupped one of Scully's breasts. Her thumb teased the nipple though the silk. "You're not wearing a bra."
Dana tugged at the halter top until she exposed Bette's breast. She took a nipple in her mouth, her tongue flicking over the hard nub that was prisoner between her teeth. Only when she heard Bette whimper she released her conquest with a satisfied smile. "You aren't wearing one, either."
"How very observant, agent." Bette unzipped Scully's tailored pants that fell on the floor.
Scully stepped over and kicked the pants to the side. When she raised her eyes, she felt exposed under Bette's gaze. Here she was standing in the middle of an office, during an official investigation, wearing black heel pumps, a silk shirt and lacy underwear. The softly murmured 'You're beautiful,' made her blush even more.
"Dana, my name is Dana." She slid her hands over Bette's thighs pushing the white skirt up.
She took a step back and drank in Bette's beauty. She looked like a Greek goddess with her stiletto, white sandals, her long tanned legs, a tiny white thong that covered her partially shaved twat, and the naked breasts spilling from her top.
Dana fell to her knees in front of Bette. She unbuttoned her shirt with a hand while her fingers delved between Bette's shaved labia.
"Oh God!" Bette rested a hand on the table and spread her legs. She teased her own nipples before abandoning the table and cupping Dana's head, pushing the agent toward her groin.
When she felt the first lick, Bette almost jumped. This was incredible, more exciting than anything she'd ever done. She let out a strangled cry as two fingers penetrated her without warning.
Better enjoyed the attention for a few minute, but then she grabbed Dan's hair and pushed her away. "Get up." After Dana stood up, she used her grip to pull Dana close. She shoved her tongue inside Dana's mouth, tasting herself there. Her hand pressed between Dana's legs and she could feel the moisture there. She pinched Dana's clit while she continued to kiss the other woman. "Lie down on the desk," she said into the kiss.
Dana had never even thought of doing this, but she followed the order immediately. She pushed the painting until it was resting next to the laptop and she took her place on the desk. She arched her back as the cool glass came into contact with her burning skin, but two knowledgeable fingers stopped her escape as they played with her clit, arousing her in ways that men seemed unable to do.
"Raise your hips!"
Another command obeyed without question and Dana felt Bette's hand cupping her ass and caressing the back of her thighs as her underwear was removed.
Slowly, Bette walked around the desk. She glanced at the painting before planting one knee on the desk, then the other and she crawled until her head was between Dana's thigh.
"Lick me," she said in a sultry voice before going down on her lover. Bette could get lost in the redhead. Dana was squirming beneath her, her body silently begging for more. She slipped a finger between Dana's folds and watched her lover jump when she brushed against her sensitive clit.
Just then, she felt Dana's tongue shyly traveling over smooth skin and toward her own gland. The slowness and timidity of the act were a reminder of an innocence lost long ago and the fluttering feeling in her stomach that she had forgotten.
Bette wished that she could stop time in this precise instant, but time didn't still and desire built within her. She lowered her head to taste her lover for the first time.
Dana lifted her hips. "More," she asked in a horse voice. A small part of her knew that this was unreasonable. She had never been with a woman, and now her entire being, body and mind, was connected to this stranger. "Please, I need..."
"I know." Dana's words mirrored the need Bette felt, that 'gut grabbing, take your breath away' feeling that seemed to have wrapped around her since Dana had walked into the room.
Bette devoted her attention to giving Dana what she was seeking. Her mouth and her fingers worked in accord to raise the level of pleasure. Their bodies reaching for each other in an eerie bond that would not let them stop.
Not that Bette wanted to stop. She didn't think that she could if her life depended on it. Enveloped in a strange atmosphere that pushed the rest of the world out of her mind, nothing could come between her and Dana.
Bette's mouth worshiped her lover, pushing her toward the edge with gentle licks and just the right pressure. Moans and whimpers only incited her more, and Bette didn't stop until she felt Dana tremble, before letting out a deep breath and her body going slack. Her tongue kept exploring Dana's body until the agent was pulling away instead of searching for that erotic touch.
Bette looked over her shoulder. "Get me off."
In her languid state, Dana could do nothing more than nod and she mimicked Bette's actions until the raven beauty was panting above, straining in the search of that ephemeral moment when nothing but pure bliss existed in the world. Bette's reality soon exploded in front of her eyes and a kaleidoscope of colors replaced the dark office.
Afterwards, they stayed silent, Bette's head resting against Dana's knee. Eventually the vacuum was replaced by the clock ticking the seconds away. Bette got up and went in search of their clothes.
Dan sat up, her arm covering reflexively her breasts. She knew it was absurd after what had happened, but the magical atmosphere had disappeared. "I've never..."
Bette cut her off. "It doesn't matter. Take that painting and find out what's going on."
Dana assented. She got dressed. She covered the painting and without a word, she was out of the office and Bette's life.
A week later, Bette received an official letter from the FBI. It included a court order granting the bureau's request to confiscate the painting that was still in the FBI's possession. There was no other explanation.
Bette went to file the letter and the court order when she saw the yellow stick note inside the envelope. The handwriting was angular, yet elegant; the 2 by 2 paper was standard stationary but it smelled of Coco Chanel. Instantly she knew who had penned the letter and she read the content with trepidation.
*After analysing the painting, I have found traces of a substance that makes human act on their basic wants. This substance was mixed with the paint used. The details are confidential since there is an on-going investigation, but I thought I owed you an explanation.*
It was the painting's fault and there was no reason to tell her partner. Bette folded the paper and tossed it in the metal paper can. If it hadn't been for the painting she wouldn't have cheated on Tina, but the urge had been there regardless. She would just have to live with that.
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