Dreamboat 6/?

TITLE: Dreamboat (6/?)
FEEDBACK (please tell me where you saw this story!):
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: You honor me, just tell me where.
SUMMARY: ‘Anything beyond this was icing. Anything beyond this could
be jail time.’
AUTHOR NOTES: ACK! When will it end…tee hee.
DISCLAIMER: Property of 1013 productions and Chris Carter. If Chris
Carter sued me, you think he’d give me his autograph? Don’t sue me!

Dreamboat Part Six

Present Day
Row 21, Seat D, E, F

Mulder couldn’t breathe, that much he knew, although the past 24 hours
had been a blur. As far as he could tell, it was morning, he was still
on the plane to Clovis, New Mexico, and Scully was hiking her skirt up
so far, he swore she could choke herself with the hem.

“Wha-?” Tumbled out of his mouth as she turned towards him and
straddled him in his seat. “Ugh,” or something related to that sound
came out of his mouth as Scully settled down on top of him. “Sc-,” and
then she kissed him. Just like the day earlier in her bed. Her bed.
Her bed. Scully’s tongue. ‘Her tongue is in my mouth,’ Mulder grabbed
the seats on either sides of him and he felt himself be lowered back

Scully’s hand was on the button for the chair back and was leaning
against him, pressing her breasts onto his chest. Another noise
escaped his mouth, only to go directly into Scully’s. It was barbaric,
what she was doing to him with her tongue. Mulder literally felt his
toes curl and his eyes roll into the back of his head, as he felt
Scully press down on his now pronounced happy stick.

Noticing this she stopped, pulling back to look at him. Her expression
actually embarrassed him. There was nothing polite about what that
look was saying and, good lord if he were lucky, he’d get to find out
how impolite it was.

Reaching down she undid his belt buckle. With an awe struck face, he
looked down at her hands as they nimbly undid the buckle, button, and
then his zipper. Without even hesitating, she pulled him out,
scrutinized him a bit, which made him a bit nervous, and then did
something peculiar…of course, not that anything up to this point hadn’t
been downright, un-fucking-believable.

Scully turned around, and with her back to him, and just enough
leverage, she lowered herself onto him. Lowered isn’t exactly the
word, throttled would be more like it.

“JESUS, SCULLY!” He yelled. Now Mulder grabbed her hips as she began
to move on top of him. Mulder shut his eyes and prayed to several
Gods, thanking them all personally for letting him live long enough for
this particular moment. Anything beyond this was icing. Anything
beyond this could be jail time.

‘Curves, curves. Dear lord I can smell her!’ Mulder whimpered to
himself. His hands grabbed the skin on her hips hard enough to leaves
marks and slid down into the seat, adjusting the penetration, sending
him deeper into her. Scully almost didn’t know where to put her hands,
either she grabbed the seats beside them so hard they turned a
bloodless white, or she leaned forward, sending him deeper inside her,
making her wince with that glorious rush of pain.

“Mulder?” She whimpered in between gasps for breath. “God, Mulder.”
His hands released her hips and reattached themselves onto her
breasts. Mulder savagely ripped opened her blouse and grabbed at her
soft, seamless bra. Scully started to rock back and forth, harder onto
Mulder, causing him to start moaning such animalistic sounds that she
tried, her hardest, to match. His fingers lingered over the swell of
her breasts, and he reveled in the softness of it right before he
reached in her bra and assaulted her nipples.

As Mulder pumped up to meet her coming down, he felt his head start to
blur with the realization that somewhere, someone finally was cutting
him a fucking break when she asked, “You’ve wanted this, right
Mulder?” Something that could be construed as an acknowledgment was
uttered through his busy lips. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you while
people watched.”

That’s when Mulder stopped. There must’ve been over a hundred people
on this flight and not one person, not one snotty flight attendant had
come to ask them to at least restrict their actions to the bathroom.
Surely the pilot would’ve come out by now. Scully turned her head,
revealing one ice blue eye. Mulder looked at Scully and blinked.

With a shudder Mulder woke up and jerked his arms so hard that his
snicker doodles came flying out of the bag in his hands.

“Jesus, Mulder?”

He looked over at the voice to his right. Scully was looking at him
with the shocked look, in fact several people around them were. Mulder
looked at Scully long and hard. The bags under her eyes were back, the
unmistakable paleness of a good afternoon of dry heaving, and
coffee/tequila breath, were all back.

“Are you alright?”

He smoothed down his hair and let his hand run over his eyes. He
turned to get up and stopped to take one more look at Scully. “Yeah,
yeah. Going to the,” and he pointed to the bathrooms. “Be right,” and
mumbled the rest of his sentenced as he walked away.

She leaned over into the aisle and watched Mulder enter a bathroom, or
little closet with a toilet rather, and as soon as she heard a
satisfactory snap of the lock, she reached for the airplane phone.

Mulder sat on the opened mouth toilet and tried to think of a
distraction. “Baseball. Baseball. Baseball. Baseball.”

“GET OUT!” Yelled a tinny voice into Scully’s ear.

“I swear to god, he jerked out of his seat like he was on fire!” The
voice on the other side of the phone began to squeal with laughter. “I
can’t talk long now, he’s in the bathroom.”

“Oh I bet he is,” Catherine, Scully’s Kramer-like neighbor that seemed
to be jobless, but was always ready with a bottle of tequila and a
snitty comment, snickered into the phone. “Can you join the mile high
club as a single?”

“Baseball. Joe DiMaggio. Baseball. Baseball. Joe DiMaggio naked.”
Mulder shuddered.

“Do you think he was…? I mean, have you considered what we talked
about the last time? Albeit we were drunk as shit, I remember enough
to think there might be a connection. And not just the impending
physical kind.”

“Well, I’m beginning to think so.”

“Wonder how is it possible?” Catherine asked wistfully.

“You’re asking the wrong person, Catherine.”

With a snort, “Right, you’re the tight-ass, science explaining, except
when it comes to God, has a fine specimen of a man for a partner,
hasn’t had sex in god knows how many years, Clairol using…”


“Oh come on, I’ve seen those roots, even if you haven’t, Agent
Scully.” She paused. “Oh yeah, this is way out of your league.”

“Joe DiMaggio was married to Marilyn Monroe,” Mulder paused and then
looked down in his lap. “Marilyn Manson, Marilyn Manson.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Think I’ll wait and see what happens.”

“Are you thinking of mentioning something to him, maybe?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I have.”

“You did? When?”

“The morning after, or rather the morning of our drink-off. I recall
something about me telling him that I had an erotic dream involving

“NOW OK. That’s worth at least another 15 minutes and I know these
airline calls are like $40 bucks a friggin minute so, come over and me
and JOSE will be waiting when you get back. Where are you going,

“Little town in New Mexico. Clovis.”

“Oh god…you know that’s about 2 hours from Roswell.”

Scully rolled her eyes.

Mulder stood one aisle behind their seats and looked at Scully for a
moment. She turned and smiled. “Were you sick?”

Mulder looked at the carpet and then at the seat. “No.” Then he sat
down slowly.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Mulder buckled his seatbelt and then laid his hands on his
thighs. “Yes.”

“Mulder?” As painful as it seemed to Scully, Mulder turned his head
and his eyebrows went up in question. “Are you dragging me to the tail
end of the bible belt, to a small part of nowhere USA, to go to Roswell
for some wild hunch?”

Mulder sniffed and then looked away. “Yes.”

Then he began muttering something to himself. Scully leaned in and
said, “What about baseball?”

Stay tuned for part 7.