Dreamboat 9/?

TITLE: Dreamboat (9/?)
FEEDBACK (please tell me where you saw this story!): [email]coolbeansh@email.msn.com[/email]
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: You honor me, just tell me where.
RATING: “R” you crazy? What do you think?
SUMMARY: “I want to tell you a story.” His lips came dangerously close to her ear. “One I think you’re familiar with.”
AUTHOR NOTES: Sorry for the delay and I think we’re coming into the home stretch now.
DISCLAIMER: Property of 1013 productions and Chris Carter.

Dreamboat Part 9

9:05 am


Scully barely waited for the doors to open before she began to slip through the narrow opening. Wearing white sneakers and soft blue jeans, she unbuttoned her slimming leather jacket as she hauled ass to the basement office she shared with Mulder.

Mulder. She shivered.

Nearing the door she pulled out her keys as she tried the door handle. Unlocked. Scully winced and then stomped her foot quietly. With a deep breath she swiftly opened the door. She let it swing wide and carefully poked her head in. She looked at his desk and only saw his jacket and some files on the top of the desk.

She let out her breath and closed the door. Circling around the desk, Scully pulled a drawer and sifted through its contents. Her eyes continually darted up at the door as she hurried through her task.

“Christ, where does he keep those things?” She closed that drawer and started on the one beneath it. She knelt down and quickly ran her fingers across the files, searching.

“What are you doing, Scully?”

He was standing in front of the desk. His tie was loose around his neck. Scully closed the drawer and straightened up. She slipped her hands under her jacket, into her front pockets. She didn’t want him to see her fidget. “Blank forms.”

His eyebrows arched up in question. “Which blank forms?”

Scully cleared her throat. “The leave forms.”

Mulder walked around the desk till he was standing just inches from her, engulfing her total line of vision. Her hands popped out and, through no will of her own, started to fidget with her jacket buttons. He leaned around her and pulled a bound ream of forms from a file tray on the counter.

“These?” He showed them to her. The bold block lettering at the top of the form glared at her. ‘LEAVE OF ABSENCE’.

“Yeah, those.” She reached for them, but Mulder pulled them away and dropped the large ream of paper on the desktop. ‘Plop’.

Settling back into his chair, he watched her. “Taking a nice vacation?”

“Well, you know, Mulder. Use or lose.” She was still refusing to make eye contact, instead she looked around for something to write with, spotting the pencil holder that was well out of her reach, but damn close to Mulder.

“Be gone long?”

“Probably not. Can you?” She pointed to the pencils.


She turned to look at him, “What?”

“No. Pen, not pencil.” He opened up the middle drawer and shuffled a few things around. “Hmm.”


“Can’t find one. Guess you’re not going.” He looked up at her, giving her a small grin.

He had her boxed into the corner behind his desk. He moved his chair in the center of what small space there was to maneuver and showed no signs of moving. He cleared his throat to get her attention again. Scully risked the direct eye contact.

“Why take time off now, Scully?”

She turned to rip off a copy of the leave form off the ream. “Haven’t had a nice vacation in a bit. Thought with things being as they are.”

“I would think that’s why you would stay.”

“Because things are slow?”

“No, Scully.” He crossed his leg, resting his ankle on the opposite knee. “Because things are just getting interesting.”


It started for Mulder exactly two weeks ago from Scully’s last dream.

In the basement office of the FBI building, a round clock clicked the early hours away. Mulder peered up at the wall and blinked. The clock read 3:32 am. His eyes felt bleary and dry as he leaned back in his government issued chair that had fleeced American taxpayers approximately eight thousand dollars. His No 2 pencil tapped slowly on the top of his worn office desk, and with elbow on armrest, solemn chin in hand, he watched Scully come through the door to their office.

He lifted his chin to give her a cursory smile as she closed the door behind her, without breaking her stare. He opened his droopy mouth to mumble the standard salutation. Or at least, that’s what he had intended to say, because just then he heard her turn the lock on the door.

“Hi, Sc-.” He stopped short as she slowly approached his desk; her blue eyes staring him dead on as she reached up and undid the top button of her suit jacket.

Mulder’s pencil rolled away from his fingertips.

Scully undid each soft, cloth button with her marvelously manicured fingernails and gave him a small, innocuous smile. He watched as her hands danced over her body and he was so entranced with their movements, that he almost didn’t notice that her nimble fingers had reached the bottom, last button. With a flick of her fingers and a shift of her shoulders, Mulder watched her black, effortlessly fashionable, perfectly tailored jacket fall to the ground.

Mulder dropped the elbow off of the armrest and he draped himself back onto his chair. With a smile, he pushed away from the desk till the tops of his knees shown.

Scully was wearing a cashmere, robin eggshell blue, short sleeve blouse. He did not fail to notice the low square cut neck and that it fit her like love on a Sunday. Scully took a step closer to the desk and rounded its corner.

He took a deep breath as he looked at her from head to her 4-inch heel black shoes, all the way back up again. The blouse was untucked and it was spread out over her small, round hips. The length of her skirt was just below her knees, but slit not too modestly on the side. Mulder leaned forward and beckoned her with his grin. Scully took two steps forward and watched as Mulder looked down at the hem of her skirt.

The sharp hitch of her breath sent a surge through his already oversensitive body as he reached forward and ran his large hands up from the backs of her knees, up underneath her skirt and he dragged the hem higher and higher to her waist. Scully’s hands came up and her fingers ran through his hair as she simultaneously pulled him closer to her body. Her body started to slowly rock as she pushed it closer to his face, shifting side to side as his hands reached all the way up her smooth thighs. He pushed the material up with his hands and hungrily leaned forward, and at that moment, the bulb on the desktop light blew.


Mulder yelped and jerked out of his chair in the darkness. With a raging hard-on, he stood up and walked toward the door, flipping on the main light switch.

No Scully.

He stood for a moment by the door entrance and sighed. Eight years now. Eight years and all he had were fantasies of a woman who was so painfully out of reach, by her wishes and his own. The only thing that was stopping him was death, murder, mayhem and maybe her brother. The only thing stopping her, he figured was the fact that she didn’t seem to want him as much as he wanted her.

Eight years and no Scully. Mulder drudged back to his desk and with his head onto his arms, and stared at the office door. At 3:40 in the early morning, Mulder made a wish.

4:01 am

Mulder’s head lay on the top of his desk as his whole body twitched. His hands clenched something unseen, but soft. Whimpering, his breathing turn from rapid to deep, causing his face to flush and a film of sweat to break out over him. Suddenly his face curled up in agony and then he jerked up from his desk, sweat now rolling down his temples along the curve of his neck. He looked at his watch and it read 8:45 am. Scully would be in soon.


…“What, Scully? Jesus.” He laughed through a worried frown.

“Well, I had a weird dream last night.”

His eyes perked up. “Really? Little gray men?”

Scully shook her head and settled down behind her desk. “Those are your dreams, Mulder.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to know what I’ve been dreaming lately,” he said, but Scully had become involved in turning on her computer. “Tell me about your dream.”

The flush came back into her neck. “It was nothing.”

“Huh, really?” He said with a sly grin. Mulder began to tap his No 2 pencil against his lips. “Nightmare?”

She shook her head.

“Oh,” he said slowly….

XXXX (whew, all these flashbacks, huh?) XXXX

9:10 am Present day

She had said something.

Mulder blinked his eyes and focused on her again. Oh yes, the confrontation had begun.

“How’s that, Mulder?” Her eyes narrowed. “How’s it interesting?”

His lips curled with his smile. “Well, with those dreams you’ve been having.”

For a moment, Scully forgot how to breathe. “What dreams?”

“You aren’t having dreams? You said you had one the other week.”

“Well, yeah. Who said I was still having them?”

“Are you still having them?”

“What makes you think I’m still having bad dreams.”

“Are they bad dreams, Scully?”


“What kind of dreams are you having? We can try and interpret them. Get to the root of the problem.”

“Mulder,” she took a step forward and tried to pass him. “I’m going on vacation and its starting today. Move, Mulder.” Slowly he stood, looking at her with open desire. Scully ignored the look and squeezed past him.

“Will you be leaving town?”

Gathering a few more things from the file cabinet in the corner, she looked at the room once more to see if she forgot anything. “No, I’ll stay in town, run some errands.” Scully smiled up at him and then with a dismissing wave she grabbed the doorknob, opening the door. The weight was lifting off her shoulders with every inch the door opened.

“Like getting a new alarm clock?”

She stopped dead in her tracks. The blush ran up her neck and turned her cheeks into red headlights. Wordlessly she turned to look at him.

“I need one. After that rude awakening, I threw mine out the bedroom door into the living room.” He made an exploding sound and his hands went up in the air, mimicking the mushroom cloud. Mulder made his way around the desk. With each step Scully could feel the pressure build back in her shoulders. His six-foot frame loomed over her now as he closed the distance.

As he stood just inches from her, Mulder smiled and he began to roll up his sleeves. Scully watched as he started with his right sleeve, the muscles in his arm rolled smoothly with the motions of his hands. Slowly he brought his hands up and planted them on the door, leaning not only in, but up, down and around Scully’s personal space.

With those thick, full lips he whispered just inches from her mouth. “That rose garden is actually a place near Oxford.” The melodious sound of his voice sent a prickly rush up the back of her shoulders. “I was at a party with Phoebe, we found that balcony, but we never made it down to the garden shed.”

Scully could smell him. He hadn’t gone home that previous night and she could almost sense the testosterone brewing inside him. A musky smell wafted towards her from his forearms.

Oh dear God, his arms.


Her eyes were glossy and she blinked slowly at him. “Yes, Mulder?”

Mulder, with both hands planted on either side of her head, leaned forward to nudge his nose close to her ear. Scully heard him inhale slowly, and then open that glorious mouth and spoke softly in her ear. “I want to tell you something, Scully.”

“Tell me what, Mulder?”

“I want to tell you a story.” His lips came dangerously close to her ear. “One I think you’re familiar with.”


…. One moment he’s alone and in a very white room, sitting in a very red chair when suddenly there she was, Scully…on all fours. Slowly her hands came up and hovered over his knees, and the look on her face was positively primeval. Her red hair was mussed slightly, in thick wisps along the sides of her face and those lips. Those lips were swollen and licked wet by her tongue.

Mulder’s arms, which laid immobile on the armrests, tensed when her fingers finally touched him, dragging those finely manicured nails up his thighs. He noticed that her focus suddenly shifted, her hands that were on their way up to, he hoped, his raging goodfellow had stopped. She leaned towards his right arm and gently touched her lips to his skin. His hand curled up to touch the hair that had fallen to the side. ‘This can’t be a dream,’ he wondered to himself. He leaned forward.

“Oh god,” he whimpered.

He could smell her hair. That beautiful, red silky hair. His left arm reached over and touched her back. She arched it up like a cat as he smoothed his long fingers down her spine, slowly rubbing each vertebrae. On his way back up, Mulder flinched when he realized what she was doing to his arm. Or rather felt.

Her tongue flicked in the inside of his arm, along the long vein that was visible on the underside of his forearm. At his wrist, she gave him a slow, wet kiss on his pulse as his fingers again curled up to touch her cheek. His middle finger traveled around her ear to her jaw line, causing her to lean into the palm of his hand. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was open and Mulder simply couldn’t resist reaching into the back of her blouse to touch that perfectly creamy skin. Scully gave him a rewarding sigh, her back arching again. He ran it down to the small of her back, not caring he was now stretching the blouse’s collar. Scully didn’t seem to mind, Mulder thought and this was confirmed as she turned slightly to give him better access to the side of her waist. His right hand wrapped around the side of her neck as the left’s fingers brushed against bare breast. Mulder looked down at Scully and saw her staring up at him. She had that little pout and her eyes sparkled like jewels and he could no longer resist.

He pulled her face up and his lips devoured hers. And this was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a friendly kiss. He bit her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth. Both hands went up into her hair and her smell engulfed him and he kissed her harder, wanting more of her...needing all of her. When suddenly she pulled away, lips swollen from his fierce kisses, her eyes danced with something a little bit more sinister than lust. With a small grin Scully grabbed his hips and pulled him forward.

“Jesus.” Mulder whimpered again.


“Mulder.” He pulled back to look at her. “Yeah that sounds familiar.”

“I thought it would.”

“Do you know how it ends, Mulder?”

He half smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah, but why don’t you tell me how it ends.”

The tip of her tongue came out and touched the apex of her top lip. Mulder almost lunged at it, but held back when she spoke again. “You ready, Mulder?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Scully. Speak to me.”