Story Archive


by Unruhe & Lywendre

By Unruhe and Lywendre
Rating: NC-17 And we mean it!
Disclaimer: We don't own them.
Category: S
Authors' Notes: We know, we know - the characters are acting somewhat
'out of character.' Give 'em a break, it's been a long hard summer.
It's the holidays. Let them enjoy themselves for a change! What
we're trying to say here is that there is, in fact, no redeeming value
to be found here. Think of this as a smut dish lightly sprinkled with
'plot'. Very lightly.
Please note: No cocker spaniels or spoons were harmed in the making
of this fanfic. Thank you.

A bunched fist on the end of a heavy, muscular forearm pounded on the
thick wood again. As before, there was no response. However, it was
obvious that there were people home from the dull roar of the
television and the scratching on the other side of the door.
Assistant Director Skinner let his mind wander as he waited for enough
time to pass before knocking again. From the ineffectual, ignored
whining, the animal registering his presence was probably a smaller
breed. 'Why didn't they answer?' he thought again. Irrelevantly, he
thought again about the dog. Probably had floppy ears and mournful,
too-wet eyes, he thought. The balding Assistant Director stomped his
booted feet impatiently on the concrete steps and watched his breath
cloud in the cold. Finally, he knocked even more forcefully, rattling
the door in its frame and sending the animal opposite into a paroxysm
of loud whimpering.
The door swung open abruptly, ending his ruminations. Agent Dana
Scully leaned against the door, grinning. Her cheeks were flushed,
matching the rosy color of her sweater and skirt, and her eyes were
lit with amusement. Until they saw him, that was.
The smell of turkey and assorted baked foods rolled from the doorway
to assault his nostrils. Skinner wondered dimly when the last time
he'd celebrated Thanksgiving was. Not since Sharon... he registered
the bewildered expression on Scully's face and got down to business.
"Agent Scully."
"Sir," Scully's voice registered her surprise. "What's wrong? Has
something happened to Mulder?" Registering the cold air, she caught
herself. "Please, come in." Skinner complied.
As he stepped in, he saw a small, boneless lump of fur flop down in
the middle of the living room. The cocker's wet eyes gleamed wimpily
up at him from a safe distance away. Skinner stared his contempt at
the dog, and fuzzy paws went to cover its muzzle. That's right,
Skinner thought, you'd better hide. Then, at Scully puzzled look, he
realized he was playing mind games with a dog. The holidays were
already getting to him, he thought disgustedly, and it was only
"Sir, if there's something I should know-" Scully's voice was becoming
slightly alarmed.
Skinner cleared his throat. "Well, actually, I was hoping you would
have some idea of Mulder's whereabouts, Agent Scully."
Slowly, she closed the door and said, "The last thing he told me was
that he would be spending Thanksgiving with his mother in Chilmark."
Her forehead furrowed.
"Dana, honey, who was that at the door?" Dana's mother, Margaret,
asked as she turned the corner from the kitchen. Still wiping her
hands on her apron, she stopped abruptly when she saw the tall form of
the Assistant Director of the FBI looming in her front hall. Since
her daughter was obviously safe, standing right there in front of her,
Margaret asked the only logical question, "What is it? What's
happened to Fox?"
Since no one, even his partner, ever referred to the FBI's most
troublesome Special Agent by his first name, it took Walter Skinner a
moment to realize whom Mrs. Scully was asking about so worriedly.
Wishing once again that he'd never come, he raised his hands to try to
calm the two women before him. "No. Nothing's happened to Agent
Mulder. I needed to speak with him and when I couldn't contact either
of you by phone, Agent Scully, I thought he might be spending the
holiday here with you."
"Sir, like I said, he told me he would be heading up to Chilmark this
Margaret interrupted what looked to be a long discussion with, "Mr.
Skinner, won't you come in? There's no reason to stand in the hallway
to talk."
Skinner tried to refuse with a polite, "No, thank you, Mrs. Scully. I
shouldn't have bothered you with this. I'll just be on my-"
"Nonsense, Mr. Skinner. Here, let me take your coat." Before he knew
what hit him, Skinner found himself divested of coat, gloves, scarf,
and boots and was headed for a cup of coffee in the den to continue
the discussion with the redheaded agent.
Dana settled down in the plush chair opposite her boss and curled her
feet underneath her. Walter Skinner tried not to stare, but he'd
never imagined the always so proper Agent Scully curling up in a chair
like a cat. Feeling like an idiot, he sipped the freshly brewed
coffee and tried to focus his thoughts.
The doorbell rang. The dog again skittered across the wooden floor of
the hallway to investigate.
"Now who could this be?" Dana asked. "Excuse me, Sir," She exited to
answer the door. Unlocking it, she pulled open the heavy door to
reveal another tall figure stamping his feet on the front porch.
"Hey, Scully, it's me," said her partner, FBI Special Agent Fox
Mulder, with a small grin as he handed her a bottle of wine.
The compact woman opened her mouth, balancing the large, foil-wrapped
bottle in one hand. After a long, awkward silence, she closed her jaw
with an almost audible snap and walked into the kitchen to deposit the
The next sound in the hallway was of a wet throat clearing. "Well,
Agent Mulder, what a coincidence." The tone in the AD's voice
suggested that he was not a big fan of the phenomenon.
Mulder looked up from tugging at his wet gloves at Skinner.
"What are you doing here, sir?" Gloves in one hand, Mulder slipped out
of his coat and casually hung it on the oak coat tree. As he hung it
up, Skinner watched him, thinking.
"I was looking for you, actually. I wanted some confirmation on your
expense report so I could clear my desk before the weekend." The
ex-marine crossed his arms, making his tailored shirt stretch tightly
over his chest. He glared at Mulder. An alligator ate his cell
phone, indeed.
Mulder only nodded, much to Skinner's secret relief. The agent had
been known to work straight through the holidays on occasion himself,
and Skinner appreciated his lack of judgment. He fully intended to
take the agent to task for the report, but he momentarily decided to
bend to his surroundings. What the hell, the AD thought, it was
Thanksgiving. Mulder could give thanks for keeping his hide. For a
little while longer, anyway.
"Agent Scully was telling me you were going to your mother's for the
Mulder frowned. "No, I remember telling her that I was going to call
my mother..." He frowned. "At least I don't think-" He stopped
abruptly as Scully entered the hallway, trailed by Margaret.
Scully's mother beamed. "Mr. Skinner, I could have sworn I left you in
the den. What am I going to do if I keep misplacing people like this?"
At Skinner's bewildered expression, Scully coughed lightly to let the
serious AD know it was a joke. Finally, Skinner smiled, his forehead
still furrowed.
Margaret tried again. "Fox, Mr. Skinner, everything will be ready in a
just a few minutes. Why don't you both join us in the dining room in
the meantime? We've set two extra places, you're both more than
welcome." Seeing Skinner open his mouth to decline, she said tartly,
"I will not listen to anything negative over the holidays. This means
that you are forced to stay and celebrate Thanksgiving, Mr. Skinner."
At her tone, the AD allowed himself to relax slightly. "In that case,
call me Walter." Mulder shot an incredulous glance at Scully, only to
see her eyeing her boss with a look that could only be called
Skinner saw Mulder's smirk and eyed him pointedly. "I guess that means
you're staying too, Fox." The older man placed unnecessary emphasis on
the agent's first name.
Mulder took the hint and said with unexpected mildness, his cheeks
coloring, "I guess I am, Sir." He knew better than to use 'Walter'.
If he did, Mulder had a feeling he would be hearing his first name all
night. From Mrs. Scully, it was barely tolerable. From his
boss...Mulder's thoughts trailed off as Scully gestured for the AD and
her partner to precede her into the dining room.
On the way in, Scully allowed her eyes to trail down the starched
white cotton shirt Skinner was wearing and back up again, admiring
Skinner's musculature. It was rare that she'd seen him from this
angle, and she decided that she liked the view. He had really nice,
thick shoulders, she thought. Then, catching her thoughts, she
decided she'd had too much wine. As Mulder and Skinner sat at the
places her mother had set, she went to open another bottle.
Just then, either two low-flying jets or two speeding children zoomed
into the dining room ahead of their slower moving parents. Whichever
they were, the two objects dropped from light speed to a full stop,
careening off the doorway and china hutch when they caught sight of
the two strangers in the room.
Dana moved towards the two towheaded boys. "Ryan, Jason, come here.
I'd like you to meet a couple of friends of mine." Shyly, they edged
over to their Aunt Dana and peered up at the two tall men. "Say hello
to my partner, Fox Mulder, and our boss, Mr. Skinner." Putting her
hand on a shoulder in turn, she said, "Sir, Mulder, these are my
nephews Ryan and Jason."
The taller boy, Ryan, approached the intimidating figure of Walter
Skinner. With wide eyes, he bravely stuck out his hand and said, "How
do you do, sir? Are you really Aunt Dana's boss? At the FBI?"
Skinner suppressed a smile as he gravely shook the small hand and
said, "Hello, Ryan. Yes, I'm their boss." A little voice in the back
of his head giggled hysterically. 'You're more like Pecos Bill riding
a tornado!' it laughed. The Assistant Director ignored the little
voice, just like always.
"Cool." Ryan turned to the other man. "Is your name *really* Fox?"
he asked as he again extended his hand.
Solemnly, Mulder shook the offered hand and replied, "Yes, it is."
Then he leaned closer and said, "but *you* can call me Mulder like
your Aunt Dana does."
"Awright!" He bounced away.
Jason silently followed in his big brother's footsteps and shook hands
with both Skinner and Mulder before retreating to the other side of
the table where Ryan was standing.
Dana continued the introductions. "And this is my brother, Charlie,
and his wife, Colleen." Charlie's red hair gave away his relationship
to the petite FBI agent, while Colleen's pale blond hair stood out in
this crowd. Smiling, they moved forward and greeted the two.
"It's good to meet you. We've heard so much about you both, it's nice
to see you really do exist," Charlie joked.
Skinner's eyebrows shot up and Mulder grinned as they both looked at
Dana. Blushing furiously, she gestured towards the table. "Let's all
sit down, shall we? I'll just go help Mom...."
Colleen followed her sister-in-law into the kitchen, saying, "Here,
let me help, too," leaving the men to their own devices. When she
caught up to Dana in the kitchen, she whispered, "Lucky you. He's
Still blushing, Dana whispered back, "Mulder? I know."
"Not him, he's okay. I meant your boss. I wouldn't mind having to
report to him!" she grinned.
"And what are you two whispering about over here?" Margaret Scully
saved Dana from having to respond by handing Colleen and Dana two full
serving dishes each before turning them around and pushing them back
towards the dining room.
In the dining room, Charlie separated his two sons. "Jason, you'll
sit here, next to me. And Ryan, you take that seat. You can sit next
to Aunt Dana."
"Aw, Dad. Can't I sit next to Mulder?" he asked.
Mulder volunteered, "Why don't I just switch places with Aunt Dana.
She'll sit over here, and I'll sit next to you, OK?" Both Ryan and
Mulder looked to Charlie for a reaction. When he nodded his approval,
both broke into big grins and Mulder moved to sit next to Ryan. Just
then, the three Scully women entered carrying the serving dishes.
After finding room for the dishes on the table, Margaret moved to her
place at the head of the table and Colleen moved next to Skinner,
across from her husband. Dana took the only place remaining, between
her mother and Walter Skinner, across from her partner, Fox Mulder.
Skinner stared at the spread almost with awe. It had been years since
he'd celebrated Thanksgiving with more than a Hungry Man turkey meal
promising extra white meat. Staring at the elaborate setup, complete
with silver candle holders and long, harvest orange taper candles,
Skinner decided he liked this version much better.
Margaret got up as quickly as she had sat down, emerging from the
kitchen with the bottle of wine Mulder had brought. Quickly and
efficiently, she moved around the table filling and replacing glasses.
Once everyone except the two boys had a full glass of wine, the elder
Scully woman grabbed a packet of long matches from a small table.
With the ease of long practice, she lit the candles.
Charlie groaned, "Don't tell me you're going to get us soaked with
alcohol and then expose us to an open flame. Is there something you
want to tell us, Mom? I know Bill is your favorite, but since he's at
sea, please let Dana and I live." He grinned mischievously. His
sister grinned back at him, then raised an eyebrow at her mother.
"Oh, shush, Charlie. What nonsense." His mother's tone was fond.
"Well, let's start passing around the food."
In a few moments, everyone's plate was full and the conversation had
slowed considerably to accommodate eating.
Margaret restarted it by asking, "So, Fox, as many times as you've
been in my home, I really have no idea what do you do when you're not
out chasing criminals." She smiled at him in anticipation of being
Scully struggled to keep herself from laughing out loud at Mulder's
discomfiture. Her partner raised his wineglass to his lips to buy
himself some time. Across the candlelight, he looked entirely
different, Dana thought. Maybe it was the casual turtleneck and
slacks she had noticed earlier. Then, Scully realized that she was
staring. Quickly, she glanced to the side. It was then she noticed
something else. She wasn't the only one staring. Skinner was staring
at her over his own glass. It was an intense, unblinking stare, and he
held it for a long moment after their eyes met. Finally, the AD broke
away, and smiled across the table at Ryan. God, Scully thought,
dazed. It was almost as if...
"I do a lot of reading. Not very exciting, I'm afraid, Margaret. The
last real vacation I took was to Graceland, and that was almost a year
ago." Mulder smiled at the older woman, looking like a little boy with
his hair over his forehead.
"Mulder." Ryan said in a stage whisper, causing the whole table to
look at him, "How old do you have to be to work for the FBI?"
Mulder reached over and ruffled the small boy's head. "Old enough to
have finished school, anyway. I think you have a little time." Ryan
frowned and turned back to his turkey. "But I'm sure if you wanted to,
you could then." The agent added. The boy smiled, a little happier,
and dug into his food with a vengeance, mirroring the others around
the table.
Mulder smiled and looked over at Scully and Skinner. Scully was doing
battle with a piece of dark meat, but Skinner was holding his wine
glass thoughtfully and staring into the space over Mulder's shoulder.
As soon as Mulder looked at him, the AD's eyes slid away.
Margaret kept him from thinking more about Skinner's strange reaction
by pulling him into a conversation about Elvis. Leaning over the
table, Colleen did likewise for Dana by asking her about the cities
she'd been to on cases. By her tone, she made it clear she would be
satisfied with nothing short than a complete run-down.
Scully shot a small grin at the sister-in-law as she finished chewing,
letting her know that although she knew the real reason for the inane
conversation, she didn't care. Colleen was using the opportunity to
study Dana's boss more thoroughly. However, at the third question
regarding the respective airport qualities in various cities, Scully
decided she was going to have to change the subject before she fell
"So, when you were in Spokane, was that a *cold* place in the winter?"
Scully sighed, taking up a piece of cranberry sauce with a spoon.
Skinner, observing her reaction in his peripheral vision, stepped in
and changed the subject.
"Colleen, I want to congratulate you on very well-behaved children. I
don't think I've ever seen more polite boys."
Across the table, Ryan hissed at his brother. "Shut up, dillwad."
Jason returned in an equally low voice, "Up yours, Captain Wussy."
Colleen grinned, clearly delighted at Skinner's compliment to her
parenting skills. She ignored the two boys with the ease of long
practice, and took a sip of her wine.
Scully turned her attention away from the two as they continued
talking. Taking the last bite of sauce off her plate, she sighed in
contentment. Putting the utensil back down to meet the china, it
slipped off the edge and out of range of her seeking fingers. Scully
watched it drop beneath the tablecloth and under the table.
Cranberry on the dining room carpet. The carpet her mother just had
replaced a few months ago in preparation for the holidays. She was
going to so angry. Glancing around, Dana saw that everyone was
looking elsewhere. Mulder was talking to her mom; the boys to each
other; Skinner to Colleen and Charlie. She decided to quickly
retrieve the utensil. Later on, at least the spoon would be gone, if
not the stain. Less evidence was a good thing, Scully thought. And,
damn it, she should know.
Quickly, she slipped underneath the tablecloth. In the dim lighting,
Scully reasoned, no one would notice she was gone until she
reappeared. Underneath the table, she saw it, silver and traitorous.
It was resting squarely in the middle of the space between Skinner's
shiny black shoes. With one lunge, Scully grabbed at it, and
overbalanced. Frantically, she reached for something to purchase
against. Anything to keep her from ending up prone underneath the
table and noticed.
The only thing that presented itself to her questing hand and arm,
though, was Skinner's thigh.
Mortified, Dana Scully froze. Her FBI training and years of
experience battling mutants and conspiracies didn't offer any
solutions to the compromising situation she found herself in. And
she'd had just enough wine to quiet the little voice screaming in her
head that this was a *bad* thing happening here.
Or, maybe she'd had too much wine. Blushing furiously, Dana suddenly
realized she was glad she'd landed where she did. After admiring her
reserved, handsome boss for three years, she now realized she found
him *extremely* attractive. And the muscular, rock-hard thigh under
her hand brought a sudden surge of warmth and arousal to her whole
body. She'd always been a sucker for solidly built, muscular men -
especially if they had good legs. And it felt like her boss had
*great* legs.
Fortunately, Walter Skinner was neither eating nor drinking when the
small, warm hand and arm first landed on his thigh. Otherwise, he
might have choked or snorted turkey and cranberries out his nose in
surprise at the unexpected, rather intimate touch on his upper thigh.
As it was, Skinner's usual nerves of steel were sorely tested as his
mind processed the event and decided on a course of action - complete
immobility. The stem of the wineglass in his hand almost snapped
before Skinner's iron will clamped down on any visible reaction to
what was happening under the table. He didn't want to explain it, but
he really wanted to see what would happen next.
Surprised that her faux pas hadn't been revealed to the others, Dana
wished she could see her boss' face to see his reaction. Of course,
the fact that he hadn't reacted was a reaction in itself, if only she
knew for sure what it meant. 'Oh, well,' Dana thought to herself,
'Granny always said, in for a penny, in for a pound, so I might as
well enjoy myself as long as I'm here....' With that, she slammed the
door on the voice of her conscience and crawled closer to place her
free hand on Skinner's other thigh.
At the new touch, Skinner spread his knees further apart to allow her
better access to the lower half of his body. Dana smiled as she
realized she had the answer to her question. 'Within reach,' she
realized as her smile grew to Cheshire Cat proportions.
Mulder glanced over and noticed that his boss had fallen silent, but
he'd already heard more conversation from the man in the last 30
minutes than he'd heard in three years of working for him, so he
didn't wonder about it. He continued to discuss the music of The King
with Margaret Scully.
Colleen and Charlie were busy mediating an argument between Ryan and
Jason, and so they didn't notice Walter Skinner's quiet stillness
And no one noticed the absence of a certain petite, redheaded FBI
Special Agent.
Slowly, Scully slid her hand further up Skinner's thigh until her hand
was just below the juncture of his noticeably hardening groin and
upper thigh. She grinned even wider when she registered the
involuntary twitching of her boss's long muscles underneath his dress
slacks. Such control, Dana thought, resting her hand and sliding the
other to mirror on the opposite thigh. Scully knew all about control.
She was familiar with the keeping and the letting go thereof, and she
thought that she could help the AD learn as well.
Above the table, she pictured Skinner continuing with his
meal...Suddenly, viciously, with her fingernails, she clawed his
muscular inner thighs down toward his knees.
Skinner choked on a mouthful of wine and started coughing frantically
in an attempt to clear the alcohol from his windpipe. Damn, damn,
damn. Even as the AD thought it, he started choking again.
Scully ran one hand back up Skinner's newly sensitized leg with a
small, soothing palm. With her right hand, she felt underneath
Skinner's dress pants to grasp his hard calve muscle. Oh yes, she
thought. Really nice legs. She removed her hand from underneath the
lower portion of his slacks and slid it back upward over the cloth.
This time, though, Scully had no intention of stopping at his thighs.
Mulder looked across the table at the AD, who was looking distinctly
unwell. The AD was listening to Colleen talk about Ryan's third grade
teacher, but he didn't look like he was registering the words. Mulder
frowned slightly. It must be the candlelight that was making Skinner
look so flushed.
"Are you all right, Sir?" Mulder asked, slightly concerned.
"Oh," Skinner registered that he was the center of attention and said
quickly, "Yes, I'm," He gasped slightly. "I'm fine." He tinged his
answer with authority, and Mulder looked away, noticing for the first
time that Scully was gone. Must have gone to the bathroom, he thought.
Mrs. Scully said, "Fox? Don't you think?" Mulder switched back to the
conversation at hand.
Scully wondered dimly how long she'd been gone from the table. Too
long, probably, but this was one opportunity that she wasn't going to
let slip by. Carefully, she cupped Skinner's huge erection with her
palm. As he slid his thighs reflexively even further open, she rubbed
him through the fabric, amazed at how hard he was. She let go only of
the straining portion of fabric to begin to delicately unzip his
A small whimpering made the crouching woman grin from ear to ear.
He'd better be careful, she thought, or they would both be discovered.
The danger made her even more excited, and she shifted, widening the
space between her thighs. This was, without a doubt, the most
reckless thing she'd ever done. If there was comment about her
absence, Scully thought, she would pick up the spoon again, and crawl
back. Strange, but explainable: She couldn't reach the utensil.
The whimpering sounded again as she was slipping Skinner's fly
downward. Frowning, Scully registered it wasn't coming from above, as
she had thought. It was coming from beside her. Looking to her
right, she saw a pair of gleaming eyes watching her.
Her heart thumping, Dana realized the bright eyes belonged to her
mother's dog, Betty. Dana glared at the four-legged intruder in her
domain and the small dog, confused by the unusual behavior of the
human, surrendered by flopping down under Dana's empty chair.
Relieved, Dana turned her attention back to the temptations before her.
Unhooking the tab at the waistband, Dana peeled back the dress slacks.
In the dim light, a white patch of material framed by the open zipper
of the wool trousers drew her focus. Scully slowly worked her hands
inward from Skinner's hips, massaging the tense muscles and tendons.
Skinner shifted his hips slightly forward in his chair and only
pretended to sip wine his wine this time. Glad that his hand didn't
tremble as he lifted the glass to his lips, Walter surveyed his
surroundings over the rim of the glass and was relieved to see no one
paying any attention to him. At least not now, and hopefully not for
a long time.
He took the opportunity to observe Mulder in animated conversation
with Mrs. Scully. Walter thought the candlelight extremely
flattering, erasing the small lines of worry and exhaustion usually
present and coloring the agent's features with a healthy, golden glow.
Mulder quickly licked his lips as he talked and his full lower lip
drew Walter's rapt attention. Walter licked his lips in unconscious
imitation of the action.
Dana's hands reached their goal: The hard erection straining against
the soft cotton fabric of white Fruit of the Loom briefs. Not
surprised at her boss's conservative choice in underwear, Scully
gently reached in with one hand to free him from the confining
clothing while her other hand slipped lower and cupped his balls
through the material.
Walter's hand froze in mid-air when a warm hand wrapped itself around
his hard cock. He clenched his jaw to prevent a moan from escaping as
the hand extracted his erection from the warm, humid confines of his
underwear and exposed it to the cooler air under the table. Closing
his eyes briefly, Walter fought to retain control of a body turning
traitor on him.
Even though Skinner's knees were wide apart and welcoming, Dana was
disappointed to realize she'd never be able to wrap her mouth around
that intriguing, shadowy protrusion before her without banging her
head on the underside of the table and announcing her presence to
Always good at problem solving under pressure, Dana braced herself
against Skinner's inner thigh. Rubbing her thumb across the
smooth/silky top, she discovered a drop of pre-cum just waiting to be
used for lubrication. While using one hand to spread moisture around
and down the shaft, Dana's other hand continued to gently squeeze and
roll Walter's balls around in their sac.
Dana felt the heat and moisture growing in her own groin in response
to the obvious arousal in her hands. She adjusted her position
slightly so that her knees were planted firmly on either side of
Walter's foot, putting her crotch in close proximity to his shoe.
Scully paused to verify that conversation was continuing above, and
that no one had mentioned her absence. Then, quickly, partially
letting go of Skinner's turgid cock, with one hand she tugged the
laces of his shoe. The tightly knotted laces slid apart, and she was
able to tug off the stiff leather and thin dress sock to expose one
bare male foot. The flesh revealed was pale, and his toenails were
neatly clipped to an even, straight line.
Quickly reflecting on the ergonomics of the situation, Scully realized
she needed to let the stiffened flesh in her hand go, if only for a
second. With both hands, the woman tugged her long, loose skirt up
around her waist, letting the fabric bunch loosely at her waist.
Silently, she gave thanks that she hadn't chosen to wear confining
Skinner stiffened as he registered that the warm, firm touch had left,
leaving him with a straining third leg. Added to that was a tight,
anxious ache eminating in waves from his tight balls upward to the pit
of his anxious stomach. He struggled to remain calm and outwardly
expressionless as his mind raced furiously. The AD was on the verge
of coming to his senses and ending the under-table game playing when
it happened.
Walter Skinner's toes were pulled to heated, slick moisture. As that
registered, he felt the warm palms he missed grasp the arch of his
exposed foot. Dana's warm, moist cunt. Dear lord. Involuntarily,
Skinner's eyes slipped closed for just a second, and he gasped
Dana pushed Skinner's toes against her, controlling his foot in slow,
regular strokes. Her boss's big toe slipped against her smooth flesh,
scraping her swollen clitoris, moving between her inner lips and
outward again. Gradually, Scully made the strokes harder and harder
until the air underneath the oak table seemed thin and overheated.
The agent bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering aloud at
the sensations.
Slowly, hesitantly, as waves began to build, Scully released her firm
grasp to let Skinner take over the motion. He did not disappoint, and
as Dana rode his slick foot underneath the table, she licked her palm
and reached up again to grasp his thick, rock-hard length.
Sitting at the table, Walter S. Skinner stared at the dancing candle
flame nearest him. For one of the first times in his life, the
Assistant Director began to seriously doubt his ability to retain his
cool. It was all he could handle to simply sit silently, without
crying aloud his pleasure for the entire table to hear.
"Mr. Skinner? Did you hear me?" Colleen's blonde head peered
anxiously around her husband to look at him.
Skinner jumped slightly as his ears and brain finally made a
connection. He realized someone was not only speaking to him, but
expecting a reply. Blinking to interrupt his contemplation of the
candle flame, the Assistant Director carefully turned his head.
Hoping he was up to the multitasking situation in which he found
himself, Skinner cleared his throat slightly and said, "I'm sorry,
what did you say, Colleen?"
Smiling, Colleen repeated herself. "I asked if you'd had enough?"
Under the table, Dana almost snorted out loud when she heard the
heartfelt reply of her boss, "More than I'd ever hoped for."
She really wished she could see the look on his normally impassive
face. Somehow, she suspected there just might be a crack or two in
his stony facade. Dana's speculations were short-circuited as Skinner
curled his toes under and used their knuckles to brutally clench her
slippery, engorged clit.
Letting the new sensations finally carry her over the edge, but
unwilling to allow a mighty groan to escape her lips as she climaxed,
Dana did the only thing her sex-befuddled mind could think of: She
filled her mouth with what was closest and bit down. Hard.
Unfortunately for Walter Skinner, his inner thigh was the lucky
recipient of Dana's love bite as she rode out the waves of pleasure
brought on by his talented toes. Again, the stem of his wine glass
barely escaped with its life as the Assistant Director of the FBI once
again clamped down on all visible response to this new assault on his
body. The ex-Marine felt he had so much pressure built up inside that
an orgasm at this point would probably blow a hole in the oak dining
room table and splatter his semen on the ceiling. He couldn't let
that happen; he knew he had to protect the innocent women and children
in the room.
Nonchalantly, Walter Skinner picked up the linen napkin he'd laid next
to his plate. After touching it briefly to his lips and wishing he
could use it to wipe the sweat he felt covering his bald pate, Skinner
dropped the napkin down into his lap, out of sight. Dana almost
knocked her head on the table when she jumped at the unexpected
feeling of cloth suddenly settling down over her busy hands.
Using the linen to further stimulate the straining erection before
her, Dana covered the small opening in the silky head with the cloth
as she pumped once... twice more.
Time as he knew it stopped for Walter Skinner.
The world around him faded away and his entire universe revolved
around the small, hot hands pumping the life out of him through his
cock and his need to Not. Make. A. Sound.
Nothing in his combat training or his years of experience with the FBI
had prepared him for the intensity of the pain/pleasure he was
experiencing at this moment. Time stretched into infinity. Skinner
thought he'd pass out from lack of oxygen. He forced himself to
exhale. Slowly. And then inhale. Slowly. And again...
Just as he thought he had everything under control, Skinner felt it: A
warm, moist mouth wrapped itself around his big toe.
Skinner thought dimly that he must be going insane. There was just no
way that he was actually being worked over under the Thanksgiving
table of one of his best agents. Under him, he thought fuzzily, and
suppressed the urge to laugh. Then, he lost that ability as well as,
still hanging on the infinite tail end of the world's most shattering
orgasm, she started to lick her own sticky juices from between his
toes. Somehow, as if she were double-jointed, Scully kept her tight,
inexorable grip on his cock while doing so, not allowing Skinner to
move in the slightest. Then, finally, finishing her work, she shifted
upward and again pumped him, only once, and hard.
Walter Skinner lost it.
The Assistant Director felt his insides liquefy with the force of
raining fire. It was so incredibly painful that it was like
channeling the forces of heaven. He kept himself from sharing his
ecstasy with every person at the table via a primal roar by biting
down hard on his tongue. The iron taste of blood blended with his
saliva running down his throat as the AD swallowed hard, trying not to
either cry or laugh or both.
As small hands dexterously replaced his dress sock and shoe, Skinner
eyed the table. People were still talking and eating. Everyone had
apparently taken his silence for his personality, and left him to his
Everyone except Mulder, that was.
Mulder had concluded his discussion of Elvis with Margaret, who had
gone to check on dessert. He'd spent the last few minutes examining
his boss, trying to figure out the reason for his flushed skin and
alternately darting and half-shut eyes. The agent had concluded that
it was sleep deprivation when Skinner looked across to meet his frank
Skinner locked eyes with the dark-haired man across the table. Mulder
raised his glass and smiled wryly across the table in a silent toast,
causing the AD to relax slightly. Now, if only-
There was a crashing sound from behind the swinging door separating
the kitchen from the large dining room. Everyone at the table froze
and turned to stare at the door as it opened, revealing a sheepish
Mrs. Scully. No one but Walter Skinner noticed the petite redhead
climb out from underneath the table to sit once again at her place,
her legs crossed demurely.
"Mom, are you all right?" Dana took a long drink from her water glass
as her mother answered.
"I'm fine, Dana. I could use a little help cleaning up this pie,
though." Margaret's daughter nodded and followed her mother back into
the kitchen. Mulder watched as Scully disappeared into the kitchen,
and Skinner watched them both.
>From the kitchen came a loud, "Betty, no! Go lay down!" Everyone at
the table smiled as the timid dog barreled through the swinging door
with pumpkin pie smeared across her muzzle and a petite red-head with
a towel chasing after her. Ryan and Jason immediately tried to join
in the chase, but each found a firm hand on their shoulder holding
them in place.
Special Agent Dana Scully cornered the cocker next to the china hutch
and wiped the pumpkin off with the towel. Smiling in triumph, she
straightened up, faced the watching crowd, and took a little bow.
Dana's face was flushed, her hair was in disarray, and her eyes were
bright. Walter Skinner thought she looked magnificent. Glancing
across the table, he saw Mulder seemed to be transfixed by her
appearance as well.
Tossing the towel over her shoulder, Dana moved to clear the dirty
dishes from the table. Colleen helped and the table was soon clear.
Having taken advantage of everyone's focus on the pie-eating dog,
Skinner breathed a sigh of relief that the zipper on his dress slacks
was now in its proper upright and locked position. Now that he could
stand up without exposing himself to everyone, Skinner decided he'd
adjust himself in the bathroom later, after the post-orgasmic
lassitude left his limbs. For now, he was content to sit and wonder
just what the hell had happened and whether or not he was hallucinating.
Only one pie had crashed in the kitchen, and Margaret Scully always
made at least three desserts for every holiday meal, so everyone still
had their choice of pecan pie or chocolate cake. The rest of the meal
passed completely uneventfully. Walter Skinner was extremely thankful.
A respectable interval after coffee in the living room, Skinner
decided it was time to leave. He thanked his hostess, said goodbye to
the others, and made his way to the front hall. Dana Scully fetched
his coat. As he went out the door, she said, "Goodnight, Sir. Happy
Thanksgiving. And thanks for coming."
Returning her big smile, Walter Skinner replied, "Believe me, Agent
Scully, it was my pleasure. Thank *you* for having me." With that,
he turned and carefully made his way down the walk to his car, still
smiling. Dana watched from the door until Skinner started his car and
wondered if her boss would like to be invited to Christmas dinner.
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