TITLE: PWP in 5-7-5 AUTHOR: Forte E-MAIL: Bjm1352@aol.com URL: http://www.thebasementoffice.com/ RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: SRH SUMMARY: A haiku smutbiscuit. ARCHIVE: Gossamer and Ephemeral OK; anywhere else please ask first. DISCLAIMER: They belong to CC, 1013, and FOX; *definitely* not me. FEEDBACK: Would make my day! THANKS: To Musea, especially Audrey Roget, for all manner of friendship and support. POSTED: 12/29/2014 ==== PWP in 5-7-5 ==== He called because, plain and simple, he missed her: he'd not seen her in HOURS. It was his own fault; he'd asked her to autopsy a murder victim. He glanced at the clock. Shouldn't she be done by now? He hit speed dial. "Scully," she answered. "Scully, what are you wearing? You know what I like." Enigmatic smile. "Mulder, are you suggesting that I dress for you?" "Not at all, Scully. What I'm suggesting is that you UNdress for me." He could almost hear her gorgeous mind process their options, weigh dangers. "I just finished that autopsy, so you're in luck -- I need a shower." Mulder, needless to say, high-tailed it to the morgue. It was deserted 'cept for the bodies and Scully, in scrubs, eyes bright. "What took you so long?" He pressed against her. "I brought you another stiff," he breathed in her ear. "Yes, I can tell that rigor mortis has set in." Her hand descended. :::caress stroke press rub::: "Mulder, is that your weapon, or are you just happ--" His mouth descended, stopping her mid-sentence (she didn't object), then they kissed as though oxygen came from nowhere else but each other, and they'd been deprived for years (which, in a way, was the absolute truth). After several minutes they relaxed their grips, panting, their eyes glazed. "I'm sorry, Doctor Scully -- what was the question?" She blinked. "I forget." He beamed. "Good. Next I have to work on making you forget your own name." "Think you can, G-man?" The challenge in her eyes was undeniable; her hand descended again. "Yes, the evidence is clear that you can." "I never knew the scientific method could be so enticing, and as you can tell I'm definitely enticed." He bent to her ear. "So," he continued, "We're in a morgue. Your intent is clear. What comes next?" "One of us, I hope." A laugh burst from him. "You just keep surprising me." She played with his tie. "What's wrong with me being clear about what I want?" "Nothing," he smiled, "as long as what you want is me." "Always." :::kiss::: "Always." Scully took his hand. "The shower room is this way." Mulder paused, turned, and spoke to the drawers with their deceased residents. "Don't mind our noise, guys." * * * * * * * * * * * * The shower room was small but pristine, gleaming blue tile and snow white grout. Scully gently pushed Mulder against the wall, then leaned in close to him. "Should I start with a Y incision?" she purred, her manicured finger traveling over his torso in a most UN- doctorly manner. "Any letter of the alphabet you like, G- woman," Mulder gasped. She reached up to touch his carotid artery, smiled at the quick pulse, then trailed her hand down. Started unbuttoning his shirt, taking her time, then parted the shirt, pressed her lips to each nipple. Mulder groaned, eyes closed, head back; he ran his hands up and down her sides. She reached for his zipper and pulled it down as slowly as she could (showing great willpower), while enjoying the look of pure pleasure on his face. He glanced down at her. "You're killing me, here." "I certainly hope not." :::smile::: "I have plans for you." "Then it's a good thing you're a pathologist. You know just what to do." "Mmmm," she agreed. "For starters, the subjects must be completely disrobed." Within moments, two piles of clothes were on the floor, and (neither recalled who had turned it on) steamy water flowed, and they stepped into the spray. Mulder wasted no time (and most definitely NOT nine minutes of time) guiding Scully so it was her turn to have her back to the tiled wall. "Turnabout is fair play," he murmured in her ear. "And I have to say, I have been looking forward to touching you all over all damn day." He cupped her ass with one hand while caressing her breast with the other, burrowing his face into Scully's neck while she moaned her approval. He leaned in closer, his cock brushing against her abdomen, and asked, "Do you have any objection to moving up in the world, Scully?" "Absolutely not," was her guttural reply. He squatted slightly; lifted her higher against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her and captured her mouth with his. He rocked against her; she moaned to both God and Mulder, especially when the latter touched her in -- ohyesthere -- that way that always seemed to defy all logic (how ironic was THAT?), warming her ev'rywhere, 'til warmth became heat and heat became flame and flames exploded into utter ecstasy. She leaned against him, relaxing, as he kissed her face, neck, and shoulders. Then Scully shivered; Mulder tilted her chin up. "The tile's cold," she smiled. He reached to the wall And tilted the showerhead To give her more warmth "Better?" :::kiss::: :::smile::: "Much." She gazed at him with so much love in her eyes that he had no choice but to kiss her again, and then again, and again; then began rocking against her again, first slow, picking up speed 'til he pumped into her with absolute abandon, and howled when he came. Several minutes passed as pulses and breathing slowed to near normal. Two contented sighs; his forehead laid against hers. "Missed you," he whispered. She hummed her response. He could feel her happy smile and lifted her chin. "So, Doctor Scully, did you like MY version of a Y incision?" One Scully eyebrow arched; she play-slapped his arm and tried to hide her mirth. "Shut up and kiss me." He was happy to oblige. And, in fact, they kissed: long, slow, passionate, languorous, exploring... 'til the water ran cold. * * * * * * * * * * * * Later, on their way out, Mulder stopped, cocking his head toward the bodies. "Do you think they know what we've been doing?" he grinned. "We made enough noise." Both Scully brows arched in her, "Mulder, you're nuts, but it's endearing" way. "Maybe, but they won't be telling anyone, at least not in this life." "So, Doctor Scully," :::kissing her temple, cheek, throat::: "are you telling me, in pathologist's terms, that it's really true that dead men tell no tales?" She held his face, pulled him down gently, kissed his nose. "Don't make me hurt you." "Oooh, hurt me, hurt me." She put on her best stern face, gestured toward the door. "Let's go home, Mulder." "Too late, Scully." :::nuzzle::: "I've already been home." She blushed, kissed his hand, held his gaze, smile blooming. "Then let's go get some sleep." * * * * * * * * * * * * The next day, the morgue attendant was seen scratching his head, bewildered. "It's the weirdest thing. Every freakin' stiff looks like it's got a huge smile!" The Chief M.E. was puzzled, too. "I've never seen anything like this." The attendant grinned. "Think they know something we don't?" The M.E. blinked, then shook his head. "No, but I'll ask Doctor Scully if she noticed this." :::shrug::: Then they went about their duties, putting the strange matter behind them. And the dead just kept lying there, smiling, keeping their silent secret. * * * * * * * * * * * * Meanwhile, across town, a G-man and G-woman slept, for now, entwined, unaware of the commotion back at the morgue. Soon, though, they'd waken: For those who have known great love, and great sex, always come :::wink::: back for more. END ==== Author's notes: I started this fic over 10 years ago. Truly, I am in the running for Slowest Fic Writer Ever. This is only my second attempt at smut! Was it good for you? ;) Thank you for reading!