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He enters the interrogation room in a bit of a hurry, slamming
the door shut behind him before he takes in the dismal scene.
It's sparsely appointed with just one padded wooden chair in the
middle of the room, a greenish glow from the caged light bulb
overhead. The walls and floor need a good scrubbing for sure, but
it's the petite redhead dressed in all black that immediately
catches his attention. She's perched on her knees on the chair
and her arms are folded along the top. She looks at him, arching
her eyebrows--serious, curious, but sure of herself.
He runs his hand through his hair and checks the clipboard in his
left hand, flipping through the pages, the end of a black
ballpoint pen in the corner of his mouth. He removes the pen,
clips it to the board.
"Agent Scully, are you aware that you're in here on some pretty
serious charges?" he says.
"I haven't been made aware of the severity of the charges, sir.
Would you mind expounding upon them? And by the way, I've been
repeatedly denied outside counsel. And your coffee sucks." She
drops the half-filled styrofoam cup on the cement floor and it
cracks with a pop.
"That's not very nice, Agent Scully." His eyes wander over her
body and she smirks.
"I'm not a very nice person. Apparently you've found that out. I
am facing serious charges."
He stares at her and she stares back, unrelenting.
"Listen to me. You have two options here...you can either
cooperate with this investigation or be hostile toward me. I'll
get what I need either way," he says, approaching her. He takes
his time, observing her for any minute gesture that may indicate
her next action.
"I'm feeling fairly hostile," she answers, watching him. Her feet
dangle off of the edge of the chair, clad in three-inch black
stiletto heels.
"I don't want to call in reinforcements," he says, standing next
to her in the chair. He towers over her, with his broad shoulders
and impeccably tailored suit, and she glances up at him with an
innocent smile.
"You don't think you can handle me?" Here she presents the
challenge, the bait on the hook. He takes a slow walk around the
chair, his eyes never leaving her body. Then he stands up
straighter, facing her back. His eyes focus on her ass for a few
seconds longer than is professionally sound before she glances
over her shoulder.
"So are you going to tell me why I'm here?" Her feet kick a
little at him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly,
trying to ignore her toying with him. He looks at his clipboard
again.
"Well Agent Scully, I've checked all of the policies and
procedures on this one and it looks like these stilettos are not
Bureau issue and are in fact strictly prohibited for wear during
interrogations."
"I had no idea there was a policy on footwear," she says, cocking
an eyebrow at him.
"Well, there is...so they're going to have to come off."
He tugs each shoe off of its foot and tosses them away. They thud
against the floor. She curls her toes in her black stockings.
"You'd better respect my personal property." She sucks in a
breath as he runs a finger up the bottom of one of her feet, up
her calf.
"Agent Scully, I'm not the one in trouble here."
"You will be soon if you don't cut it out." Her voice takes a
little more serious tone now. She feels him inch closer. He puts
both hands on the back of the chair so that she's crouched under
his body. His hips brush against her ass and she tries not to
moan outloud.
His breath is hot against her ear. "The second violation of
concern is this shirt of yours. Normally it's something one would
expect to be worn under a coat or jacket because of its form-
fitting nature. However, you have chosen to circumvent that rule
by wearing it by itself. And given that it's tight enough to be
inappropriate, I'm going to have to ask you to remove it."
It takes her a bit to be able to respond, a few breaths to
maintain her composure, to keep her cool. "I think your request
is inappropriate."
"Rules are rules, Scully...Agent Scully. If you're declining to
follow my orders, I'll have to remove it myself." He leans in a
little closer to her, so that his hips are pressed firmly against
her body. She feels him hard under the light fabric of his suit
pants. She refuses to move.
He yanks up the back of her shirt without warning, pulling it
over her head. It stays around her arms, still folded on the back
of the wooden chair. She gasps and bites her lower lip. He traces
the black bra strap across her back, sliding the rough pads of
his fingers down her spine and under the waistband of her pants.
"And these. These have to go." His mouth is on her ear now, hot
lips pressed against delicate ridges, his voice low.
"You going to confiscate them, too?" She breathes her question,
squirming in the chair.
He cups her kneecaps and pulls them off the chair and she lands
on her feet, the cold cement a shock to her system. She lets her
shirt slide off of her arms and onto the floor. He pulls her
pants down wordlessly, his breathing noticeably affected by the
curve of her ass in black lace panties and her thigh-high black
stockings.
He yanks the panties down with his thumbs.
"You didn't say anything about those," she says, her voice
trembling a little. She's exposed, and can't see where he's
looking or what he'll do next.
"Those...those, Agent Scully, are the biggest rule infraction of
all." He runs his hands up her ass and her back, making her
shiver. She shifts on her feet and lets her chin fall to her
chest with a sigh, her fingers again wrapped around the top of
the chair, knuckles white.
She hears a metallic clink, feels cold metal against her left
wrist and is handcuffed to the chair before she has time to think
about what the hell he's doing. He leans onto her again, his
clothed body curling against her nearly naked back. "That's for
being a hostile suspect." His teeth catch the tendon on the side
of her neck.
"I guess I need to be hostile more often," she whispers, pushing
her ass back against his hips. He hums his approval.
"Get your knees back on that chair, Scully."
"It's Agent Scully to you."
"Right. Agent Scully."
She does as she's told, her knees sticking to the cheap vinyl,
and she's keenly aware of what he must be seeing as she's
steadying herself on the chair, legs slightly spread. He pushes
against her again, a little too hard, and the chair wobbles.
"Whoa, Mulder. I mean, sir. You're going to knock us over."
"Don't tell me what to do. You're the one in custody."
She tries not to laugh at their now miserably failing attempts at
remaining in character. "Sorry. You know, this is never going to
work. This chair's too low, you're too tall, and I'm...slightly
vertically challenged. You're going to be having sex with the
middle of my back."
"I'll take what I can get, Agent Scully."
She eyes him from over her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down on
this chair, and you'll get a little more than that."
"Quit directing me, Scully. Agent."
She sighs. "Fine."
He clears his throat. "Now get off that chair and I'm going to
sit on it."
She stifles her laugh and slides off, her left wrist chafing
against the handcuff fastened a little too tight around it. She
grimaces and then puts on the most sinister, angry and criminal
face she can muster. He sits on the chair and looks up at her
expectantly, the excitement evident in his eyes and all regions
south.
"Now Agent Scully, you're going to sit on my lap, whether you
like it or not, because if you want to get out of these
horrendous charges you're facing, your punishment will have to
fit your crimes."
She reaches down, sliding her hand over the front of his pants,
finding what she is looking for and instinctively licking her
upper lip. He exhales, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"Hmmm, I think it does fit rather well." She unbuckles his belt
and the top button of his pants.
He squirms in the chair as she unzips him. "It usually fits quite
nicely, doesn't it?"
"Mmm-hmm." She slips her hand inside his pants and he lets out a
tiny moan. She gets goosebumps in places she's never imagined
they could arise. And then he's out and ready and he's looking at
her with a hint of desperation in his eyes.
"Well then, let justice be served," she whispers with an arch of
her eyebrow. She straddles him and he slides into her deeply,
completely, and they both sigh and smile, in that order.
"You going to be okay with this?" he moans, snaking his hands
around her waist, grabbing her ass. "Your legs long enough to
reach the floor, Scully?"
"Oh, fuck you, Mulder." She pulls on the back of his hair with
her free hand.
"Ouch. My thoughts exactly." He grins and she covers his mouth
with her own. He thrusts up against her and she pulls away from
his hips, teasing him, while their tongues slip together.
"Now who's in control, sir?" she murmurs against his lips. They
look into each others' eyes as she presses down onto him again,
her hips rising up and down. His palms move over her sides to her
breasts, still clothed in black lace, and he groans.
"Scully why isn't this off?" he says, nearly whining.
"Don't ask me. It was your job." Her hips rise and fall again,
more quickly now, and his head tilts back just enough to give her
access to his neck, which she proceeds to exploit in as many ways
as possible. Teeth, tongue and mouth work the delicious skin
under his ears and chin. "And might I add that you're still fully
clothed."
"I know," he breathes. She digs her fingernails into the back of
his neck, riding him a little harder. His fingers pluck at the
top of her stockings, travel back to her ass, clenching her skin.
"Damn, Agent Scully. You're redeeming your bad self."
"I'm so...naughty huh?" She feels a spark from her head to her
toes when she says it against his neck. "Am I?"
He thrusts against her as hard as he can and she has to regain
her balance. "Oh yeah. Naughtiest...ever. God, Scully..."
"That's Agent Scully to you," she pants. "Don't make me say it
again."
"God, Agent Scully..." And she feels him tremor under her a
little and she smirks, knowing he's coming, and that he'll be a
little disappointed that he came so quickly, but that she gets a
secret sense of pride out of how fast she can make it happen.
"That's right baby, I'm your naughty little habitual offender..."
"Oh, Jesus."
"...and you should come in me really, really hard. Sir."
And he does, jerking his hips, and the chair squeaks against the
floor and she slides her arm around his shoulder with a yelp and
a giggle while his face twists up and his mouth opens slightly
with a deliciously long moan.
"Careful, careful, damn, Mulder, I mean sir, this is one sturdy
chair."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She hears his keys jingling behind her as she toes at her clothes
on the floor.
"Mulder, feel free to take your time finding that handcuff key.
It's only freezing in here. But how would you know? You're not
naked."
She's met by silence and more jingling. Then she hears a long
sigh, the kind of sigh she doesn't like to hear. The sigh that
indicates that he is about to tell her something fairly
displeasing and that will most likely incite in her a strong
emotional reaction.
She knows that sigh all too well.
"Scully, I don't have the key."
"Mulder...Hold on. What?"
There went that sigh again. "I don't have the key to the
handcuffs."
She turns to face him. "Seriously."
He looks at her with a one-shouldered shrug, then casts his eyes
downward when the intensity of her glare proves to be too much to
handle. "As much as I'd love to be joking right now, I'm pretty
serious. I didn't bring the right keychain."
"You brought your cuffs but not the key."
"Yeah."
"...Fuck, Mulder!"
He winces and takes a step back. "I know. Just...take it easy.
Wait a second."
"Sure. It's not like I have another option here." She tugs at her
wrist and the chair squeaks against the floor for effect. She
tries to slide her wrist out of the handcuffs and her skin starts
to burn a little. He crouches down to examine the chair.
"You put this on too tight, Mulder."
He raises his eyebrows at her. "Scully, you were a potentially
violent criminal. You needed to be restrained."
The look she gives him could freeze over hell. He looks back at
the chair.
"We're going to have to break this chair. It shouldn't be too
hard to do."
"You don't happen to have a handsaw in your pocket, do you?"
A flick of his eyes to her face. "That's on my other keychain,
too." He pulls on the beam of wood she's attached to and it
doesn't budge.
"You know, I'm still naked." She crosses her free arm over her
stomach.
"Well, get dressed."
She stares at him and he does his best to ignore it. "With one
arm attached to a chair? I'm agile, but not that agile."
He picks up her panties and holds them out for her. She
delicately steps into them. He pulls them up her legs and rises
to her with a smirk.
"What?"
"I wouldn't mind having you like this more often." He lowers his
head to kiss her neck.
"You're never going to have me like any way again unless you get
this figured out. Soon."
He kisses her cheek. "Scully, you're so romantic."
"No, Mulder, romantic is me hitting you with this chair in the
name of breaking myself free, then having to haul your ass to the
hospital, again, for head trauma."
This shuts him up. He helps her into her pants, then picks up her
shirt. They stare at it and she looks at her bound wrist, feeling
more helpless by the minute.
"Just put it over your head and your right arm, I guess," he
says.
She tilts her head to the side and sighs, closing her eyes. He
catches her drift. He shoves the shirt down over her head a
little too emphatically. She grunts and slides her right arm
through the sleeve.
"All right. Now that I'm fairly dressed, how do you suggest we go
about breaking this chair, sir?" She puts her free hand on her
hip, determined to assert some sort of control over the
situation.
"Well, there are a couple of different ways to break a chair."
"Enlighten me, Bob Vila."
He lets out a laugh just to humor her. She is not amused. "You
could hold the chair and slam the back of it against the wall..."
"And somehow avoid crushing my fingers or my wrist into the
cement bricks."
"...or we could put the chair on the floor with the back up, and
I could step on the rung you're attached to and hope it cracks."
"Or?" She taps her foot impatiently.
"Or...I could roundhouse kick it really hard I suppose."
"Fabulous. Or?"
He rolls his head on his shoulders with an exasperated sigh.
"Jesus, Scully. You're so hard to please. You want to take it out
the front door with you? We might be able to fit you and the
chair in the backseat and head to the nearest Home Depot, pick up
a handsaw and set you free."
"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."
They look at each other and smile. She shakes her head. "Let's do
the floor thing. It seems like the best option."
"Agreed, Agent Scully."
They lay the chair on the floor with the back facing up. She's
kneeling next to it and looks up at him. He's regally poised with
his foot on her rung of captivity.
"This should be easy," he says.
"Famous last words. Please don't land on me." She curls herself
inward a little, gives her hand a glance and squints her eyes
shut.
"Okay, Scully. On the count of three. You ready?"
"Mulder. Enough fanfare."
"Okay. Ready. One...Two...Three."
She expects the sound of splintering wood, a crack, his foot
thumping to the floor, but all she hears is a tinny cling on the
floor and she feels a whoosh of air.
"Mulder?" She opens her eyes and hears the door slam shut.
"Mulder, what the hell..."
And then she sees the handcuff key glimmering on the cement floor
in front of her face.