TITLE: Little Black Dress II (1/1)
AUTHOR: Evielouise
EMAIL ADDRESS: evielouise@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: I'd be honored. I'd
appreciate a note, but it's not necessary.
SPOILER WARNINGS: "En Ami" post-ep sequel, if that
makes any sense.
RATING: NC-17
FEEDBACK: Send me some, and I'll do an impromptu
little happy dance.
CLASSIFICATION: MSR, H
KEYWORDS: First Person (Scully) POV
CONTENT WARNING: Another fluffy smut biscuit--maybe
we'll get lucky and there'll be more honey this time…
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mulder, Scully, the little
black dress, or the stunning new frocks mentioned
within this story.
SUMMARY: Mulder takes Scully dress shopping to replace
that little black number he burned in the incinerator
in my last fic.
DEDICATION: This is for Becky C., wherever she may
be. I had no intention of writing a sequel until she
emailed me a magnificent feedback letter and told me
in no uncertain terms to take our dynamic duo shopping
*immediately*. I don't think this is precisely what
she had in mind, but a certain scenario popped into my
head and refused to go away until I had written it
down.
Special thanks to Sistas A & S for their Speedy
Delivery beta reads!
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
LITTLE BLACK DRESS II (1/1)
This is surreal. I cannot believe that Mulder is
taking me shopping. Yeah, I know he said he was going
to buy me a new dress to replace the one he'd
unceremoniously burned in the incinerator. But later,
when the afterglow had worn off somewhat and I'd
fought my way through that haze of post-orgasmic
bliss, I reasoned that maybe he'd said that in the
heat of the moment, so to speak. And I never for an
instant imagined he'd want to come along and help me
pick it out. Men hate shopping, right?
Mulder holds the door open for me as we enter a pricey
dress shop. This place wasn't my idea. I'd never
have set foot in here if we'd been spending my modest
FBI salary. But Mulder drove us here first thing
without asking where I'd like to go. How the hell did
he know about this place anyway? Since when did
Mulder become an expert on haute couture?
I'd protested when I realized where he was taking us,
but Mulder had put a finger to my lips and hushed my
arguments with a single look that said he meant
business. For once, I shut my mouth and argued no
further. Having a trust fund must come in handy for
times like these when you've incinerated your
girlfriend's dress and want to do something really
nice to make up for it.
Girlfriend? Did I just say that? I can't believe I
just said that. I think Mulder and I are both a bit
too old to be called anyone's boyfriend or girlfriend,
to be completely honest.
Besides, we haven't even had sex yet. Well, I should
qualify that by saying we haven't had sex in our
country's President's definition of the term. One
encounter on Mulder's infamous black leather couch,
albeit one earth-shattering oral sex act the likes of
which I have *never* in my *life*… Um, what was I
saying? Oh yeah, one supremely erotic encounter
occurs between us and I'm already thinking of us as a
couple.
"What?" you say. "No consummation? No penetration?
Where's the fun in that??"
So shoot me, ladies and gentlemen, I was tired. I
mean really, really tired. Look, I'd spent several
days gallivanting around the countryside with that
double-crossing, black-lunged bastard C.G.B. Spender,
returned home to have my high hopes for humanity
completely and utterly dashed when the Gunmen found my
precious disk empty, suffered the formidable wrath and
jealousy of Mulder, then experienced the most intense,
energy-sapping orgasm of my entire life courtesy of my
partner's almost superhumanly talented mouth. That
would tire you out, too, wouldn't it?
I'd fallen fast asleep afterward. No kidding. I
myself can't believe that at last I was totally naked,
bare to the skin, beneath Mulder's hard, lean body and
I blew it completely by drifting off. I'd felt
enormous relief that Mulder had apparently forgiven me
for my transgressions and quite safe and comforted as
he held me and touched me in places that I'd
previously only fantasized about. Then, obviously
overcome by my exhaustion and state of blissfulness, I
was swept into unconscious oblivion. What a waste.
I'd woken early this morning mysteriously covered in a
warm afghan. Mulder had already gone and had left a
note saying that he hoped that I'd slept well and he'd
pick me up at my place at 9 a.m. to go dress shopping
of all things. Imagine that.
Now, as we enter this posh establishment, I feel a bit
underdressed in my casual slacks and cardigan sweater.
The saleswoman, her silver-gray hair swept back in an
elegant twist, takes one look at Mulder in his jeans,
gray t-shirt and black leather jacket, and I can tell
she thinks we've wandered mistakenly into the wrong
store. That is until he quickly flashes her a
suitably impressive credit card and informs her
quietly that money is no object. I smile weakly as
she scuttles solicitously off in search of dresses my
size.
Sometime later she hurries back with an armload of
them in every color of the rainbow and shepherds me
into the dressing room, instructing Mulder to have a
seat outside. She begins to show me her selection
which also includes every style imaginable, since I'd
told her I had no idea what I was looking for. I
figure I'll know it when I see it.
I emerge from the dressing room several minutes later
in a navy blue, tailored silk suit with a long skirt
that reminds me vaguely of the suits I wear to work
everyday. I'm teasing Mulder, of course. I know
he'll hate it and he does. He doesn't say a word as I
stand before him, raising my eyebrows, wordlessly
asking his opinion. He gives me his answer, shaking
his head silently.
"Not what you had in mind, Mulder?"
He says mildly, "It's got 'Annual FBI Ball' written
all over it, Scully. I want something a little more…"
He squints and gestures at me meaningfully. I get it.
The saleswoman looks at us curiously as we refer to
each other by our last names. Yeah, we sometimes
confuse me, too. Then she follows me once more into
the dressing room and helps me into a long, bias-cut,
white satin gown that reminds me of something Jean
Harlow would've worn in "Red Dust". I think Mulder's
going to like this one.
I walk slowly from the dressing room in my bare feet
past him to stand before an alcove of mirrors. Mulder
is slumped lazily in his overstuffed chair, one leg
crossed over the other, ankle resting comfortably on
his knee. His elbow is propped on the chair arm, his
hand supporting his chin.
His casual posture belies his thoughts though. His
eyes flash as they take in my appearance, the way the
satin clings to my breasts and hips. Yeah, he
definitely likes this one. His head nods nearly
imperceptibly, and I smother a tiny smile before it
reaches my eyes.
The saleslady looks befuddled again as I walk back to
the dressing room to try on another dress without ever
exchanging a word with Mulder. We don't have to. At
this point in our lives, we can communicate in other
ways just as well. Eyes and lips and hands often
speak louder than words when he and I are together.
"Did he like this one?" she asks hesitantly.
"Yes, very much, but I'll try on a couple more just
for good measure."
Next I appear in a long, crimson red sheath dress
which contrasts wonderfully against my pale skin.
When I stand before Mulder this time, he gestures with
his index finger for me to turn around slowly. I feel
silly, but I do it anyway and am reminded of what
happened yesterday after I obliged him the same way.
I blush and the corners of Mulder's mouth turn up
slyly. I wonder if he's remembering the same thing.
Back in the dressing room, the saleswoman next shows
me a peachy-pink confection of a dress that takes my
breath away. I don't know if I dare wear anything so
utterly frilly and feminine, but I try it on
nevertheless. The rich silk strapless bodice hugs me
tightly and reveals an impressive amount of
décolletage. At first I attempt to tug the material
modestly higher, but then I realize I look pretty damn
good exposed this way and leave well enough alone.
Covering the deliciously full, flowing skirt is a
sheer overskirt that billows from my waist to the
floor like a pink cloud.
I can't imagine what Mulder will think when he sees me
in this. It's so unlike anything I've ever worn
before. I emerge from the dressing room a bit
hesitantly and stand before him, watching his
expression in the mirror.
Other people might think that he doesn't show emotion,
but I know him much better. I watch Mulder's lips
part slightly and he sits up straighter. His eyes
widen a tiny bit, but only so much that I would
notice. Without being asked, I slowly turn before
him, letting him take it all in. He chews quietly on
a thumbnail as his eyes squint, and I see his throat
bob as he swallows not once, but twice. Finally, he
clears his throat and says decisively to the
saleslady, "We'll take this one." As I walk past,
Mulder reaches out to tentatively trail his fingers
over the soft material of my skirt, and I shiver
imperceptibly at the brief contact.
In the dressing room again, I stand before a smaller
mirror, looking at my reflection in shimmery, pale
pink and wondering what it was about this fairy tale
dress that Mulder liked. Did he look at me and see
the feminine, soft side of Dana Scully that never gets
to come out and play anymore? Suddenly, a figure in
black leather looms before me, hungry eyes sweeping
over my body.
"Mulder, what are you doing in here?" I whisper.
"I told the saleswoman that I would help you get out
of your dress."
"You didn't…" I say in disbelief.
"Oh yes, I did," he smiles mischievously.
My mouth drops open in horror, and Mulder seizes the
opportunity to wrap an arm around my waist and pull me
roughly to him, his lips swooping down to feverishly
devour my own until I can no longer breathe.
I break away, dazed and panting, while Mulder looks at
me piercingly and says, "Do you know how beautiful you
are?"
"I'm not sure, but I think I'm beginning to get the
picture."
Without warning, he kneels before me and I get a
faceful of billowing skirt as he tosses it into the
air and he dives underneath. I squeak at his surprise
attack and whisper a fierce, "Mulderrr…" as his nose
buries itself in my crotch and he inhales deeply. Ay-
yi-yi…
I say weakly, "Mulder, stop that."
He mumbles from beneath my skirt, "Scully pull this
goddamn dress up so I can see. I won't be able to
breathe much longer either if you don't."
I hastily grab an armload of fluffy material and haul
it up to my chest, revealing my partner teasing the
waistband of my panties slowly down.
"Jesus, Mulder, we can't…"
"Shut up, Scully, and go with it."
I find myself mesmerized by the picture we present
together in the mirror as Mulder strips my panties
from my trembling legs, then pushes me back against
the wall for support. I think I'm gonna' need all the
support I can get at this point.
He nuzzles his face in my coppery curls, then looks up
at me devilishly, biting his full lower lip in
anticipation before he uses his thumbs to part me.
"But, Mulder, we're in a public place…" I whisper.
Then I completely lose track of my thoughts as
Mulder's tongue takes a long, lingering lick between
my legs. My whisper ends in a quiet moan and my knees
buckle as Mulder supports me by latching onto my hips.
He teases my folds with the tip of his tongue, and
finally I surrender, opening myself to him by wrapping
one trembling leg over his shoulder, reveling in the
delicious feel of his leather jacket rubbing coolly
against my naked thigh.
Mulder groans appreciatively as I expose myself to
him, and he begins feasting on me in earnest. I
murmur a few select swear words which I reserve for
special moments such as this. I think Mulder enjoys
hearing those words coming out of my mouth that he
never gets to hear from me otherwise. He hums his
enthusiastic response into my sex, swollen and
dripping from his heated efforts.
Yesterday, straddling Mulder's chest, I'd revealed to
him my fantasies where he and I were concerned, and
now he's working very hard at making them come true.
I've always been keenly aware of the fact that
Mulder's got an oral fixation, and being as I'm a girl
who… Oh god, Mulder, right there… has her own
personal fixation on being Mulder's oral fix , so to
speak, we're practically a match made in heaven.
I'm making a supreme effort to keep my ragged
breathing as quiet as possible, simultaneously
wondering how on earth I'd gotten myself into this
situation. Boy, if yesterday's little adventure on
Mulder's couch seemed forbidden, then letting my
partner eat me out in a public place is probably
grounds for going straight to hell. I wonder vaguely
if we'll be arrested for this. My breathless chuckle
at the thought of Skinner coming to bail us out on
charges of "hot and heavy cunnilingus while in the act
of shopping" is suddenly cut short when Mulder begins
nursing my clit for all he's worth. Ohhh…
My hips begin grinding against his face until he
stills them with a fierce grip on my ass along with a
finger or two sliding into my slippery opening for
good measure. He starts doing something up there with
his fingertips that completely eradicates my ability
to stand under my own volition. I reach up with one
hand to hold on for dear life to a sturdy wooden
clothing hook and pray that Mulder can support the
rest of me.
I watch us in the mirror through heavy-lidded eyes and
a lust-filled haze, thinking what an odd couple we
make, with me in my fancy dress pulled indecently up
to here and Mulder in his bad-ass leather jacket and
jeans with his face planted firmly between my legs.
God, we look perfect together. A delicious shiver
runs through my body just thinking about it.
He's still sucking on my swollen clit, which is
sensitive to the point of being nearly painful now,
plus he's sliding his tongue along each side, trying
to find that spot again just like yester…
"Ffffuck…" I hiss through clenched teeth. Bingo, he's
found it. My muscles scream in response, and Mulder
knows from past experience to clamp his hand over my
mouth as I come, or else the whole store will know his
partner has reached orgasm. I think I'm biting his
poor hand, but at the moment I'm powerless to rectify
the situation.
Finally, drained and trembling, I slide down the wall
into his waiting arms, and he kisses me on top of the
head.
My voice shakes a bit as I murmur in astonishment,
"What are you trying to do to me, Mulder?"
He gently arranges the yards of billowing skirt
material around us, then reaches underneath to cup my
bare ass and pull me into his lap. "Just what you
told me you wanted, Scully."
"Oh yeah."
He chuckles, "Now that we've thoroughly defiled this
dress, we really will have to buy it."
I snort into his warm chest, enjoying the smell of
Mulder in leather.
"And Scully, I think you should wear this dress to
work on Monday, so then we can christen my desk."
"You're incorrigible."
"Where you're concerned I am."
"It's about damn time, Mulder." I look up to plant a
soft kiss on his cheek. "I don't know if I can face
that saleslady to pay for this dress. Do you think
she knows what we were doing in here?"
He grins. "Probably. But who cares?"
He notices the consternation on my face, then amends,
"Look, I'll go pay for the dress while you change,
then we'll get out of here as soon as you're done."
He hooks a finger under my chin and kisses me tenderly
on the nose. "Okay?"
I am pleased beyond reason at his sensitivity to my
embarrassment, and I say simply, "Okay."
I rise and turn my back to him, indicating that he
needs to unzip me. "Give me a hand?"
"At your service, m'lady."
He stands behind me and inches the zipper down as the
dress slips slowly from my body, leaving me standing
naked in a pool of silky pink froth. He stares over
my shoulder at my reflection and sucks in a breath.
His hands are shaking and I know he's itching to touch
me.
I reach back, grasping his hands within my own to pull
his arms around me. I guide one strong hand and hold
it over my breast and the other to cup my wetly
throbbing sex. I stare at him in the mirror and he
gazes wonderingly back at me. He pulls me tightly
against him, stroking me gently, kissing and nipping
at my arched neck, and it feels like he he wants to
crawl inside of me.
His voice is strained as he breathes, "God, Scully…"
I say regretfully, "You'd better go pay for that
dress."
"Yeah, I'd better, or I won't be responsible for what
else I do in this dressing room." He bites his lip
and raises his brows in good-humored resignation.
"Take me home, Mulder."
"Why, Scully? You wanna' play house?"
"Only if you're playing, too."
This time it's Mulder's turn to smile in anticipation.
END "Little Black Dress 2" (1/1)
