Feedback: XSandPiper78[at]aol.com
By Piper Sargasso
Feedback: Fawned over at: XSandPiper78@aol.com
Rating: NC-17 (Lots of bad language and ::gasp:: sexual situations. Bit grittier
than my usual thang.)
Archive: Sure, just drop me a line to tell me where.
Spoilers: Ascension (blink and you'll miss it.)
Keywords: MSR , Krycek/Mulder/Scully (sort of)
Category: S, PWP
Disclaimer: These aren't mine. Created by CC, contorted by me.
A/N: Dedicated to my friends at BTT and BBTS. You all are never far from my
thoughts.
Summary: "I like to watch. This isn’t the first time, and it won't be the last.
Not by a long shot."
******************************************************
It was a punishment at first, spying on that idiot Mulder and his partner with
the perpetual stick shoved up her ass. Not like I *enjoyed* babysitting for
Chrissakes. That was before, when the Consortium was completely pulling my
strings. Things have changed since then.
"You must pay your dues," Spender drawled around a cloud of exhaled smoke. "And
let's just say your performance at Skyland Mountain was…less than satisfactory."
Bastard. It wasn't the first time I was tempted to wring that wrinkled neck with
my bare hands.
The surveillance on Mulder was round the clock. Scully, however, posed less of a
threat. Her phones were tapped, of course. Bugs were placed around her
apartment. But the video surveillance crew -- meaning me -- only bothered
watching the monitors when Mulder was there. Scully herself was more useful to
us than she thought, always deflecting the harder-to-believe facts with her
scientific theories and sensible reports. She had no fucking clue how right
Mulder usually was.
Months of being bored out of my fucking skull. The woman led the most tedious
home life this side of hell.
Then the inevitable happened. I was checking in on Scully's apartment one night,
bitching under my breath about my lot in life while scanning the monitors.
Living room? No, no one there. Dining room? Kitchen? Nope. Bedroom. Nada.
Bathroom. The only place she ever undressed and the one location we didn't have
a camera. Until this afternoon.
Ah, there she was. Damn. Never would've guessed *that's* what lay beneath her
serious, oh-so sensible clothes. Bubbles clung to glistening skin as the steam
rose from the bath water. She rested her head against the back of the tub,
sighing contentedly. Auburn hair was clipped up into a messy twist and damp
tendrils curled around her face in the humidity. She looked so relaxed.
A leg peeked up from the bubbles, pink from the heat of the water and half
covered in froth. A hand trailed its way down the length of it from upper calf
to thigh, disrupting the foam on its journey. Finally, it disappeared altogether
beneath the water.
Good God.
She sighed. The water slapped gently, back and forth against the sides of the
tub. She arched her back, allowing me a view of her breasts bobbing in the
water. Oh, very nice. Another hand rose to the surface to knead the flesh of the
right one, while the left played peek-a-boo with the shifting bubbles.
A soft moan, accentuated by rougher, more choppy waves coming from her
ministrations below. Her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
She lifted half out of the water, crying out.
When it was all over, she laid back against the tub, turning her face to the
coolness of the porcelain rim. Her face was flushed, her hair damp and still
curling. I watched with a dry mouth as her breathing slowed and she came down
from her post-orgasmic high.
From that day forward, I took a keener interest in the comings and goings in the
residence of Dana Scully. Pun most definitely intended. What was once my
punishment has now become my reward -- and since her bathroom peepshow, she has
rewarded me more than I ever dreamed. I didn't understand the need for the new
camera at first.
"A gift, Alex. For being such an invaluable asset to the Cause," fucking Spender
informed me.
~*~
I could say I've been a gentlemen ever since stumbling upon my own personal
peepshow. I could say that I'm the sole operator of the "Dana Scully
Surveillance Team" because I'm most suited for the job, not because I arranged
it to stay that way. But why lie?
I find myself checking in more than necessary, feeling the exact opposite of
guilt when catching her in…delicate positions. I've been treated to more repeat
performances of that first day in her bathroom than I can count -- not that she
limits herself to the bathtub anymore. I see her everywhere. In her bed, above
the covers, under the covers. In the shower. On the couch -- that's my favorite.
There's something ballsy about a woman touching herself in the openness of her
living room. Men don't give a shit where they do it, but women... women are
different. So many I've observed seem shy about how they go about doing the
deed, never being able to get off unless it's under the cover of darkness with
the sheets pulled up to their chins. Some can't do it anywhere but the bathroom,
like their sins wash down the drain. A lot of them can't even get out of the rut
-- don't even realize they're *in* a rut.
Not Scully. No, she's her own one-woman exhibition act anymore. I thought she
was a goddamn Puritan before I started this. I know better now.
The one thing I can't figure is why she never brings a man home. No, not just
any man. Mulder. You can’t tell me those two spend almost every waking hour in
cars, motel rooms, crime scenes, morgues, their office -- wherever the hell else
they always are -- and haven't screwed yet. I refuse to believe it.
Yet I'm the first to admit every time I catch him at her apartment the closest
they get to scrumping like bunnies is sitting within three feet of each other on
the couch while they watch TV or go over a file. Pathetic. I want to shout at
the screen sometimes, "Mulder, you fucking *idiot*! Do you have *any* idea what
she did on that couch just a few hours ago?"
I've found myself tempted to give them a little push -- for my own amusement, of
course. But then, when the hell has any push worked for these two? Christ,
they've been in every kind of traumatic and potentially romantic situation known
to man, and still nothing. I was beginning to think they aren't even human.
Not one sign of giving in from either of them. It seems watching Scully by
herself is all I'm gonna get. As for anything else? I gave up on the idea of a
two-party show a long time ago. It isn't that I'm a pervert or anything, just
open-minded. But I can't help craving more than what I'd been shown so far.
~*~
Like I said, I'd given up hope. But finally the wait has paid off.
Camera A, set up in the entrance, catches Scully's image, hand fumbling against
the wall in search of the light switch. Unremarkable. But a second, larger
figure enters, placing a hand over hers to stop the action. Hmm...interesting.
"No, leave it," I hear the larger figure mumble as he shuts the door. I sit up
in my chair and listen closely. Not for the first time, I'm grateful for the
superior video and audio equipment installed there. Right now it's picking up
tiny whimpers she's emitting as he presses her against the wall, kissing her
with his body flush with hers. It's a dark-haired man, I can see that much, and
he's wearing something black with his jeans. A turtleneck? I can't really tell
for sure, even with this damned night-vision.
He reaches down to pinch at her nipple through her blouse. Like that, do you,
Agent Scully? She wraps a hand around the back of his neck and yanks it down to
put the guy's face into her cleavage, the lucky shit. Looks like he's enjoying
the new position. I now have an excellent view of Scully's face, turned upward.
It's a shame...whoever the hell he is...wants the lights off. I have a feeling
that fair flesh would be stained red. Damn, but I love to see a redhead orgasm.
There's nothing quite like it.
Not that she's about to come just yet.
The guy gets impatient with sucking on her breasts through her shirt and kisses
his way down: over her clothed stomach, down her skirted legs, stopping at her
knees. He puts one hand on the side of either leg and slowly pushes the skirt
up, clearing the way for more kisses. She gasps out, music to my delicate little
henchman's ears. Oh yeah, he's going for it. Panties down, skirt at the waist.
Thigh highs, Dana? Didn't see you put those on this morning.
He kisses his way up her inner thighs, higher, higher, before settling on the
sweet spot. Jesus. She's writhing against the wall, one hand above her head and
the other wrapped in this lucky bastard's hair.
I can't stand it. She's fully dressed, minus the panties, with some mystery man
nuzzling between her legs like it's his last fucking meal. My cock aches so much
it borders on pain. I pull it out, gritting my teeth against the wave of
pleasure touching it brings. The cool air in the warehouse office wraps around
it, which makes the warm sensation of my hand even more pronounced. But I don't
pump it--not yet. Gotta hold out, or this will be over too fast, and when will I
get a chance like this again? She lives like a fucking nun.
I watch the screen, absorbed. She won't last long, I can tell. The usual signs
are all there--clenched hands and whimpering, biting her lip. Somehow he seems
to know this, too, which makes me wonder if he just senses it, or if they've
done this before. But no, I would've known if they had. It's my job, after all.
So, one night stand? Picked him up in a bar? Hmm… Didn’t know you were that kind
of woman, Ms. Scully. I like it.
He pulls away from her and stands up. From this angle, it looks like he's moving
his fingers inside her while he ravages her mouth. Christ. Just thinking about
that mouth with the pretty little pout, ripe for doing dark deeds, makes me want
to jerk myself into oblivion. I settle for slow, torturous strokes instead.
Her hands move down between them. I assume she's unzipping his fly, from the
looks of it. Suddenly, she takes him by the shoulders and turns him around,
pressing him against the wall. Even though they've switched positions, I still
can't make the Mystery Man. He's looking down at her while she sinks to her
knees. I hear a hiss as she takes him into her mouth--Jesus--and fondles him
with a free hand. Never thought I'd see miss prim and proper giving a world-
class blow job, but there you are. Both his hands are wrapped in her hair, and
finally, he throws his head back against the wall with a light *thump*, eyes
closed.
Eyes I know are hazel with flecks of green. I *should* know the minutiae of
those eyes, as many times as I've been confronted by them. Fox Mulder, my
personal fucking cross to bear.
I'm inexplicably aroused by the idea of seeing these two going at it like rabid
animals. It’s not surprising; I've held Mulder in fascination and loathing, in
equal parts, since I've met him. Real, honest-to-God love/hate. And Scully?
She's every cliché about the "good girl" you want to think of and more. This is
like…it's like my own little porno. He's gritting his teeth, unknowingly
mirroring my actions. Don't you fucking come yet, Mulder.
Ah. He's pulling her up now. That's right, Spooky-boy, do her right there
against the wall. Shit, this is good stuff. Wait a minute--he's got her legs
wrapped around his waist and carrying her off to the right off the screen. My
eyes flicker to the various other screens until I see them in the dining room.
He sets her down on the edge of the dining room table, crushing his mouth
against hers. Her skirt gathers at her waist again, the lacy tops of her thigh
highs showing as her legs spread to let him closer. I hear my breathing getting
heavier as she grinds her pelvis into his and throws her head back, giving him
full access to her throat.
Shit. It takes supreme effort not to finish myself off here and now. The craving
to do just that is magnified when I see Mulder jerking her blouse open, exposing
one of the delicate bras I know she likes to wear. She gasps and arches her back
in invitation. Fucking beautiful. He buries his face in the valley between her
breasts.
Man, what I wouldn't give to be in his position right now. And get her in a few
positions I've been wanting myself.
He's getting restless, over-aroused. I can relate; just watching them is goddamn
killing me. The camera is pulled in as tight as possible, which is how I can see
his dick is still hanging out of his pants, pointing straight forward. Like it
knows its goal is just inches ahead, completely free of obstacles. Jesus,
Mulder, get going already!
For the first time in his miserable fucking life, he takes my advice. Scully's
legs wrap around his waist again and she braces her arms behind her on the
table. Mulder slides into her, easy as you please, and I imagine her dripping
wet and slick as oil. In, out, in, out. She pushes into his thrusts, meeting him
with a cry every time, her moans going straight to my groin. Mulder's pounds her
mercilessly. My hand slides up and down my dick in synchrony.
It might be my own personal porno, but there's only so much you can see on a
surveillance video, quality equipment or not. I can't get it any closer, and the
night vision makes the playback a bit gritty, but it's enough. Christ, it's
enough. My hand is slick with proof of how fucking hot this is to me, and it
pumps harder, faster up and down my shaft while I watch Mulder pounding the hell
out of his partner. It's easy to pretend I'm in the room with them, that she's
jutting her perfect tits out for *my* benefit. That he's fucking her for my
pleasure. Dammit, I can't last much longer...
She comes, and the sounds she makes are like nothing I've heard coming from her
mouth before. Head thrown back, elbows bowing outward under the weight of her
orgasm, her legs trying to pull Mulder closer than he can possibly get. She
cries out and sucks in breaths alternately…shit…and arches her back until I
think it'll snap. Taut nipples slice the air, and she's the most incredible
thing I've ever seen. Goddamn amazing.
It's all I can take. My own release jackhammers through me, out of me,
until I
think my head'll explode from the force of it. Dizzily, I look down at
my still-
twitching cock. It's gonna take more than take-out napkins to clean up
this
mess.
Goddamn but that was incredible.
I turn my attention back to the screen with a dopey smile plastered on
my face.
Looks like Mulder finished too. He drapes over her for a few minutes,
then
carries her off to the bedroom. Again? Well, hell yeah. I could go again.
Bring
it. I hope he winds her up real slow this time. I'm not in my early twenties
anymore; I need some time to get the juices going again.
But then I look at the bedroom monitor and see him just cuddling her
in the bed.
Christ, what a waste. Oh well, there's bound to be a next time.
And baby, you better believe I'll be watching.
~The End~