TITLE: Watching
AUTHOR: Brynna
EMAIL ADDRESS: ingos_grrl@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: anywhere you deem it worthy. If you've got a
second, I wouldn't mind a note tho; I like to visit my 'kids.'
FEEDBACK: will write for feedback
SPOILERS: not a one. It's just a happy little smut-biscuit
RATING: NC17
CLASSIFICATION: MSR/Smut
SUMMARY: Mulder tells Scully a fantasy. She makes it come true.

Disclaimer: *giggling madlessly* Sure, when this gets on-air, on
prime-time network (non-cable) you all will know that, at that moment, I
own 1013.

Thanks: Brandon, Paulette, Robbie & Shannon - my beta-patrol. :- )

"No, Mulder."

Sighing, I tuck the blushing redhead back into my arms. "It's okay
Scully," I whisper into her ear. "I don't expect you to, I was just
telling you."

She nods into my chest, taking a deep breath. "I just . . . I can't. I'm
sorry." She looks up at me, and I can see tears glistening in her eyes.
"I . . ."

"Shh," I whisper, lowering my head and kissing her softly. "There's
nothing to cry over Scully. It's okay, I really didn't expect you to say
yes." Pulling her closer, I lie back on the bed, keeping her body tight
against mine. "It's late; let's get some sleep, okay?"

Her hands slip under my back, holding onto me, as her head settles onto
my chest. "Okay. Thank you for understanding."

Resting my chin on top of her head, I let my hands stroke her back
slowly. "Always."

We fall into a deep, almost heavy silence, but neither of us sleeps. She
fakes it pretty well, but I've been sleeping with her for too long; I
know when she's pretending.

"Are you all right?" I finally ask, almost an hour later.

Her head lifts, and she looks at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry. You just
sorta threw me, and . . ." her teeth close over her lower lip as she
thinks, and one of my hands strays to stroke back her hair. "It's not
that I've never done it - I've done it far more times than I can count.
I just can't even begin to imagine doing it with someone watching me.
Even you."

"We can forget the entire conversation if it'll make you feel better," I
offer softly, trying to make sure that she doesn't start feeling
obligated since she brought the original fantasy subject up.

But her head shakes, and returns to my chest. "I don't want to forget
it. I do want to know what you want. I just don't think I can." My hands
resume stroking her back, my fingertips brushing over her skin lightly.
"I guess I'm just still too Catholic Mulder," she murmurs, smiling.
"Masturbation isn't something I'm exactly comfortable with."

"I understand. Just because it's a fantasy of mine to watch you pleasure
yourself does not mean that you have to do it." I kiss her forehead
softly. "I never want you to do anything you're not 100 percent
comfortable with. Especially not when it comes to us, and our
relationship."

We've had a hard enough time getting both of us to this point. Years of
one or the other of us not being ready, or of misunderstandings, finally
leading to one drunken night, and a confession from her that had sent my
head spinning, and my heart soaring - and had caused my cock to harden
instantly. One sentence - 'I love you, and damn it I want to fuck you.'

Sure, the last half was the alcohol talking, and it didn't happen then,
but . . . I knew, even through the haze, she meant it. She loved me.

That was almost six months ago, and things have been pretty damned good
ever since. We didn't have sex that night, but we slept together. And
we've done the same nearly every night since, both of us finding that it
provided a solace, a peace that we each so desperately needed. My
presence calms her fears, and hers keeps my nightmares at bay, allowing
me rest.

Looking down at her again, I gently lift her head, kissing her mouth,
the tip of my tongue brushing over her lower lip once, before I retreat.
"No matter what happens, or doesn't happen between us sexually, I will
never stop loving you, and wanting you. Know that."

"I do," she whispers, her eyes slowly shutting. "I think I'm going to
really try to sleep now. I love you Mulder."

"I know," I answer back, hugging her to me, closing my eyes and letting
the feel of her breathing lull me to sleep.

~~~~

"Mulder, I want to . . . you know."

Scully's voice, on the other end of my phone. What the hell is she
talking about? "What?"

She sighs. "That night? Two weeks ago? I want to, I just . . ." Another
sigh; I hear her switch the phone to her other ear.  "I can't see you
watching me."

And the proverbial light bulb goes off. "Are you sure?"

I can almost hear her nodding. "Yes. Two things - I =can't= see you,
while I'm doing it, and I need you to talk to me, at the same time. You
arrange that, I'll do the rest."

She hangs up, and . . . aw fuck, I have to drive home, in rush hour,
with a raging hard-on, and images of Scully touching herself dancing in
front of my eyes. A car horn blares, and I force myself as back to
reality as I can, trying not to get killed, making my way toward her
apartment.

She's out, when I finally get there, and I say a silent word of thanks,
surveying the layout of her living room. Smiling, I get to work,
settling a stack of throw pillows over a blanket on her couch, making it
nice and comfortable. A small lamp that she keeps with a 60-watt bulb
for reading is right behind the arm, on a table. I flip it on, and
quickly turn the rest of the lights out, moving into the shadows where I
can see perfectly, but can't be seen. My phone is in-hand, and I wait.

It's almost twenty minutes before she comes home, and as soon as I hear
her key in the lock, I push send on my phone, calling her. "Scully," she
answers, sounding a little breathless.

"What are you wearing?" I ask, my tone near a whisper, leaning back into
my chair and waiting for her to come inside.

She laughs. I love that sound. "Tight black jeans and a skimpy purple
tank top," she jokes, and I hear the lock being unlocked. "What about
you?"

"I'm not the important one tonight," I answer softly, refusing to raise
my voice, not wanting to be heard once she's inside any other way than
through the phone. "But if you really want to know, jeans and my Knicks
shirt."

She gets the door open, and lets out a small gasp, not having left her
apartment looking like this. The door shuts, and she leans against it
heavily, phone pressed to her ear. "You've been busy."

"You tell me at any time if you want to stop doing this," I murmur into
her ear, watching her, the lamp casting just enough light to allow me to
see her face.

"I don't," she whispers, shrugging off her jacket to reveal a much more
casual outfit than she'd told me about - jeans and a sweatshirt. "Walk
me through this Mulder," she requests, taking a few steps toward the
couch, stopping just short of it.

I have to swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "Do you want me to tell you
what to do?"

Her head shakes, and she reaches down, unbuttoning her jeans slowly.
"Not really, just sort of - guide me?"

Okay, sure, I can do that. I think. My cock is already painfully hard,
straining against my own jeans, as she unzips hers, pushing them down
her hips. "That's good," I croak out, eyes glued to her every move. "Why
don't you take off your shirt too, and get comfy on the couch?"

She nods, and does as I suggest, standing there in a bra and panties for
a long moment, before settling herself onto the pile of pillows I'd
created. "What do you want me to do first?"

"Um . . ." Jesus it's hard to think right now. "I want you to do
whatever it is that you normally do."

"I haven't done this since I've been with you," she whispers. I don't
exactly believe that (god knows =I= have at least a few times), but with
a glance to her face, I know it's true. "I haven't wanted, or needed
to."

Oh fuck. That admission alone almost makes me lose it. With a shaky
hand, I unzip my jeans, needing to loosen the pressure on my straining
erection. "God I love you." She chuckles huskily, and I swallow again.
Hard. "Then I want you to do it however you used to."

Her eyes shut, and her tongue darts out between her lips. "Okay," she
answers, her free hand moving up her stomach, cupping one of her
breasts, squeezing. It's a near-torture to watch her and not touch her
myself. But oh what sweet, heavenly torture. I'd willingly endure it
forever. Her fingers move and flick open the front clasp on her bra,
pushing the satiny material to the sides before returning to her breast,
stroking over the exposed flesh. We both groan into our phones as her
fingers pinch her nipple, hardening it.

"Is this what you did before?" I barely manage to get the question out,
as her hand moves, her fingers clasping around the peak of her other
breast and squeezing, that bit of flesh hardening as well.

"Yes," she moans into my ear, drawing the word out only a second longer
than is necessary.

"Take off your panties Scully," I whisper to her, needing to see her
body more than I need the air that fills my lungs. She holds the phone
between her ear and shoulder, and wiggles a little, both hands working
the scrap of material down her hips. Her feet kick slightly, and the
satin goes flying.

"Touch yourself, tease yourself -" I have to stop for a moment to catch
my breath, as two of her long, slender fingers slip into the folds
between her legs. "Make yourself come Scully," I say, my tone almost
pleading. Oh please, make yourself come and let me watch. I'll never ask
for anything else, ever again.

Her eyes are still closed, and she moans softly, her fingers working
slowly between her slightly parted thighs. "Mulder," she mumbles, not
saying anything more, working her fingers fractionally faster.

I quietly get to my knees on the floor, and, confident that she won't
stop now, inch my way toward her body, until I'm next to her. "Spread
your legs more, please," I ask, wanting to see everything.

One of her feet falls to the floor, her knee bent and pointing out from
her hip, exposing her lips, her clit, her opening to my gaze. Continuing
to murmur my name, she lowers her hand, allowing two of her fingers to
slip inside, moving them slowly, then faster, her thumb locked onto her
sensitive clit, rubbing in a fast circular motion. I can't help it, and
I rise up slightly, enough to pull my jeans and underwear down my hips,
freeing my hard cock from the confines of the material. Taking it into
my hand, I begin to stroke, fast, in time with her fingers moving inside
herself.

Her head falls further back, and she lets out a loud whimper, moving her
fingers faster, harder. "Open your eyes Scully," I demand. She starts
to, but closes them again as a tremor runs through her. "Open them," I
plead, my fist moving harder, faster, my hips jerking slightly. This
time she does, her eyes falling to mine, then down, to my hand.

Her fingers never skip a beat, as she watches my hand, my cock. She lets
out another whimper, that segues itself into a cry, as her body bucks on
the couch, orgasm rushing through her. I watch, mesmerized, almost in a
trance, my body fighting itself.

Until she calms slightly, and then reaches over, her hand covered in her
wetness, and presents her fingers to my lips. The phone falls, and I dip
my head, taking her fingers deep into my mouth, sucking, biting at them,
her taste, and her eyes finally sending me over. My hips spasm against
my hand as I suck even harder on her fingers, my eyes closing, the force
of my orgasm catching me off-guard.

Once I'm breathing somewhat normally again, I open my eyes to find her
kneeling on the floor in front of me. She smiles, and gently extracts
her fingers from my mouth. Leaning slightly, she kisses me. "Thank you,"
she whispers against my mouth.

"For what?"

She lifts her head from mine, and gives me the most beautiful smile. "I
never thought I could do that . . . but I have to admit, I did want to
watch you."

"I love you," I murmur, kissing her softly. Looking down at my hand, I
start to reach for a tissue, but she stops me.

"No," she whispers. "Let me."

END