TITLE: Long Play AUTHOR: Lysandra E-MAIL: Lysandra@mediaone.net or Lysandra31@aol.com URL: http://shannono.net/lysandlys/main.html FEEDBACK: Yes, please. SPOILERS: Nothing major, but minor spoilers for "Pilot," "Beyond the Sea," "All Souls," and "Alpha." TIMELINE: Set in Season 6 after "Alpha," but not strictly a post-ep. DISTRIBUTION: OK for Gossamer; others, please ask first. RATING: NC-17 for sexual situations CLASSIFICATION: Story/Romance KEYWORDS: MSR SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully get rid of the dust. Long Play by Lysandra When he got back from picking up his dry cleaning, Mulder found Scully crouching near the wall of his bedroom, looking at something. For a moment he wondered why she was even in his room, but then heard the toilet running and figured she'd used his bathroom. That wasn't out of the ordinary, but finding her still in his bedroom was. He doubted she appreciated his home filing system, which could more accurately be described as a piling system. Piles of newspapers, files, magazines, books. For the past couple of weeks, she'd been making new inroads into his life. It was nothing he could put his finger on, just little things -- a touch more familiarity, an extra smile here and there, a bit of possessiveness. It was as if she was getting territorial on him. Territorial. His mind flashed a picture of Karin Berquist's face, but he shook it off. He couldn't believe Scully had seen her as any real threat. "... Mulder." She waited for his attention. "Do you ever play these?" She gestured at a stack of records against the wall. He didn't know what she was talking about. "The records," she said. "Do you even have a record player?" "Somewhere, yeah." Somewhere in a closet, or a storage space, there was a turntable that hadn't been used for years. "I miss records." She fingered through the old LPs. "I'd sit in my room, listening until it was time to turn the record over, and -- remember how you had to blow on the needle to get rid of the dust?" She looked over at Mulder and flashed a sad sort of smile. "It's not the same with CDs." "Nope," he agreed. "It's not the same. It's better." He hung his clothes in the closet. "Sound quality, portability, durability." It didn't look like there was a turntable on the upper shelf. "But there's something about records, the pops and hisses and scratches. It takes me back." "True. But I wouldn't give up my CD player either." She kept looking through the records. "Oh, Mulder." She hummed a laugh. "You still have an album by The Ramones?" "The Ramones are cool. Hey. Ho. Let's go." He made his way to her. "What were *you* listening to in 1980, alone in your room?" "You think I was alone? Okay." She chuckled and seemed to think about the question. "In 1980, let's see, that was eleventh grade. I would have been listening to ... probably Pat Benatar, or Journey, or REO Speedwagon." She smiled up at him, daring him to laugh at her. He knew better, and kept a straight face. She slipped a record out of the stack. "This is intriguing." Mulder looked down at the album in Scully's hand. Sinatra. "You don't like the Chairman of the Board?" He took the record from her. He hadn't played it in years. "Of course I do. I just didn't see you as the type." "We all have our secrets," he answered. He wanted to find out some of hers. "I suppose we do." He was relieved to see she was still smiling. "So who was the sixteen-year-old Dana Scully entertaining in her room?" "You don't want to know." "Sure I do," he said, not at all sure he did. He sat down on the floor beside Scully, and slipped the album back into the stack. "I had a boyfriend when I was sixteen; his name was Tad." She stopped and looked at him, and he wondered if this kid had gotten into Scully's pants while listening to "Keep On Lovin' You." The thought made his palms itch. He twisted out the name with disdain: "*Tad.*" Sounded like a prep school kid, with a name like that. "How long were you with *Tad?*" "Oh, shush, he was nice." She got a faraway look in her eyes as she leaned her head to the side like a teenager. This kid must have been very nice, he thought. Nice enough that Scully was getting a soft romantic look on her face, one Mulder hadn't ever seen before. It made her very pretty. Scully went on with her reverie. "We met at church camp. He lived about an hour away and neither of us had a car, so we didn't see each other much, but he was...." She closed her mouth, as if she'd already said too much. He was what? "Come on, Scully, you can't leave me hanging." She closed one eye. "Don't laugh, or you'll be sorry." "I promise." "To this day ... he was the best kisser I've ever known. I never imagined back then that nobody would live up to him." She sighed again. "He could tie a cherry stem in a knot using only his tongue." She glanced away. Mulder smiled. He could do that cherry stem thing, too. It had won him a few bar bets, back in the day. A plan started to simmer in his head, not to mention what was stirring between his legs. "So, other than his agile tongue, what made Tad such a good kisser?" He paused. "Just for informational purposes, of course." She looked at him sideways. Suspicious, as always. "And what would you do with this information?" she asked. "What would I *do* with it? I'd ... file it away until such time as it became useful." There; that was a nice obtuse answer. "Useful how?" Damn, but she was difficult. "Knowing what women think about *anything* is useful. Help me out here, Scully. Most women are a mystery to most men." Yeah, keep it impersonal, but intriguing. She'd bite; he knew she would. "Most women?" "All women, to varying degrees." "Most men?" "No, pretty much all of us, but I didn't want to get in trouble for generalizing." "Smart," she answered with a hint of a smile. "So, getting back to Biff--" "--Tad." She rolled her eyes. "Right. Tad. What was so great about the way Tad kissed?" She glanced away again. Very unusual behavior for Scully. "I'm not so sure I want to tell you that." "Why not?" "Because it's personal." They were getting into that gray area, the area they usually avoided, but he didn't want to sidestep it any more, and besides that, he was just plain curious. How did Scully like to be kissed? "What, we're not personal?" She was, after all, in his bedroom. "Mulder, it's like telling you ... my bra size, or what kind of tampons I use." She looked smug, as if mentioning all this female stuff would throw him off. She was wrong. "Thirty-four B, and Tampax." "Mulder!" It wasn't often he saw her embarrassed, and she was even prettier now that she was blushing. "How on earth would you know that?" "It's not some big conspiracy. You keep tampons in your desk, not to mention I've seen you buying them. And the bra size," he said, shifting his gaze down to her chest, "was an educated guess." He tried not to look too pleased with himself, but her eyes narrowed, so it was possible he hadn't done a very good job. "And why would you be making 'educated guesses' about my bra size?" She had her hands crossed in front of her now. Classic defensive posture. Mulder was in heaven. "You're the one who brought it up," he noted, struggling to look at her eyes rather than her breasts. She shook her head as she stared at the ceiling. "We know too much about each other." "What do you mean?" he asked. "You're not actually embarrassed, are you? I'm sure you know my, uh," -- he struggled for a euphemism -- "my shoe size." He winked at her. She looked away a moment. "I'm not sure 'embarrassed' is the right word. I'm ... uncomfortable with it." "Scully, we see each other almost every day. It'd be more surprising if we *didn't* know a lot about each other. We eat more than half our meals together. We've sat next to each other for hundreds of thousands of miles of travel. We've saved each other's lives. What do you expect?" "I guess--" She looked right at him, as if she'd been challenged. "I guess I just never expected to be so intimate with someone I'm not actually intimate with." That was an interesting way to put it. "Look," he said. "For every little factoid I know about you, there's another I don't." He wanted to make her feel less uneasy, but she just shrugged and sighed yet again. He went on. "I didn't know about REO Speedwagon, or your sad kissing thing." "What sad kissing thing?" "You don't think it's sad that the best kisses you've had are twenty years past?" The second the words were out, he wanted them back. Her eyes shot fiery daggers at him and she was already standing up and on the move, towering over him as she walked away without a word. "Wait," he begged. "Scully..." "No, don't worry about it," she said. "It's my own fault for telling you such a thing. It won't happen again." "Stop," he pleaded. He rose and met up with her near the front door. "Don't go." He was desperate to make her stay. He'd hurt her feelings, and seeing her so pretty and vulnerable and angry in such a short time span had kicked his libido into high gear. Now he had to top her best kiss even if it ruined everything. She'd opened the door already. He blocked her way. She glared at him. "Scully, I don't think you understand." That was an understatement. Scully had no idea that he wanted to kiss her, no idea that he was already hard from the thought of it. "What don't I understand, Mulder? You know everything about me, and you think my life is sad. Have I left anything out?" "You've left a lot out, and you're completely misunderstanding me." He spoke in quiet and even tones despite his racing heartbeat. "I don't think your life is sad, and I don't know everything about you. You give me little nuggets to go on, and the rest I have to imagine because you don't tell me anything unless you're under complete duress, and the things I learn under duress are off-limits the rest of the time, aren't they?" She looked up at him, her expression odd, but he rambled on. "Remember years ago, when your father died, you saw him in a vision. And Emily, you saw her too -- But when we have a case that involves someone seeing visions, and you discount it like it's all hogwash, it takes everything out of me not to throw it in your face that you've seen things yourself." Scully just stared at him, mouth open as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "All that isn't even the point. The point is -- the point is--" He wasn't sure what the point was. "The point is *what*?" He dragged her back inside as he closed the door. "The point is, that I don't want to imagine you anymore, Scully. I want to know you. I want to know about REO Speedwagon, and Tad, and all of it. When you're happy or sad or angry, I want to know. If your car needs oil, I want to be the one who checks it -- if you don't want to do it." He noticed her face softening into a look of mere confusion rather than anger. "If you're out of that Feria hair dye, or that overpriced lipstick of yours, I want to be the one to run to the drugstore. Are you understanding me now? Do you get it?" Mulder hadn't realized that he'd been moving closer to her during his little speech. He had her trapped, his arms framing her head as he leaned his hands on the door. He liked trapping her, he realized. He liked standing so close he could hear her breaths and feel her warmth, and he didn't want her to escape back into their normal dynamic. He wanted to turn this record over and start side two. "I ... Mulder." She leaned into him, hiding with her forehead against his chest. It was their sole point of contact. When she spoke again, her voice bounced off the floor. "You imagine me?" It was an honest question. Her voice didn't carry any implications or accusations, and she seemed geniunely curious. "Yeah," he admitted. "I imagine you." He stroked her hair and tilted her face to make her look at him. "Scully, I imagine us. You and me. I imagine us." For a second she looked like she was either going to throw up or burst out laughing, but she only smiled. "How do you imagine us?" she asked. "It's not that simple," he told her. "I'm not talking about anything concrete, just--" How could he put this? "I just imagine us, like ... like forever." He didn't know if that would make sense to her, but she seemed to take it in stride. "I imagine you and me in a forever way," he went on. He was starting to sweat. "A forever way," she repeated. "Like, you want to check my oil forever." She grinned. "You want to play records together? You want to buy my haircolor?" He hadn't noticed when she'd started touching him, but her hands were at his sides, her thumbs swirling in circles above the waistband of his jeans. She got it. Hallelujah. "I'll buy your hair dye," he said. "I'll change your oil. I'll let you listen to my Sinatra albums if you want. But what I really want right now," he added as he leaned in, "is to make you forget Biff." "Tad," she said as she lifted her lips to his. "Whatever." He kissed her with reverence for just a moment, because they both deserved it, and then thankfully that moment was over and she put her tongue in his mouth. He moved closer until her 34B breasts were pressed against him, and her Feria hair was twisted in his fingers, and he tasted her MAC lipstick and an iced mocha from Starbucks. Yes, he wanted to know it all. But now all his reverent thoughts were flitting away, being replaced by very carnal thoughts, as he imagined what Scully would sound like, what her naked breasts would feel like in his hands, whether her eyes would be open or shut at the moment he pushed inside her. Her tongue twisted with his, swirling in inquisitive circles and searching out all his secrets. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, and he went willingly, stooping to get as much of her as tight against him as possible. She was warm and soft and smelled like newsprint and conditioner. He felt her pulling away from his kiss just as her hand crept down his body, teasing his cock through his jeans. "Mulder." She gasped as if she were surprised. "Mulder." She stroked his cock as if she never wanted to let go. He somehow managed to speak. "Was that better than Tad?" he asked. "Who?" "Tad." "Who?" She smiled as she gave him a squeeze. She really, really got it. The way she was dragging her hand up and down his erection, he was going to blow his wad without even taking off his pants. He decided to distract her by crouching down low and pushing her top up and off, over her head. She was very helpful, raising her arms and all, and that got her hand off him with minimal fuss. Not that her hand on his cock was a bad thing, not at all; but premature ejaculation would be no laughing matter. His pride made him want to last longer than Tad the Wonder Kisser, but there was no polite way to ask if Scully had slept with the kid or not. In any case, she was wearing a lacy bra that had looked only slightly better on Tyra Banks in the latest Victoria's Secret catalogue -- but Tyra Banks would never let Mulder touch her in a million years, and besides, Tyra Banks' breasts would look terrible on Scully. These ones -- milky-white and blue-veined and attached to his partner -- would do just fine, and they felt so perfect in his hands, like they'd been waiting for him. He unhooked the bra's front closure and pushed it aside and before he knew it he had a mouthful of Scully and was sucking at her nipple like she was candy. "Mul...unnhhhh," she murmured before taking a shaky breath. Tyra would never make that sound. Mulder's cock stood up to hear it better. When Scully moaned again, Mulder thought he'd lose consciousness from the sound of her. He'd never imagined Scully would be so into foreplay. He'd expected her to be more matter-of-fact-get-to-the-point about sex; but from her reactions, he'd been very wrong, if the digging of her fingernails into his scalp was any indication. She was feeding her tits to him, pushing her chest into his mouth and hands. Shameless, really, and he loved her for it. He couldn't imagine that Tyra would taste half as good as Scully. He recognized her scent and her flavor, though he'd never before had the pleasure. She tasted just like she should, like heat and sweat and sex and truth. Mulder's back was starting to ache from bending over so far to get to her breasts. This vertical thing was no good. So he stopped fondling her long enough to drag her into his bedroom, her bra still attached to her shoulders like some bizarre harness until she shucked it off as unneeded. He bent down and picked it up, looking at the size on the label. It was a 34B. "Damn, I'm good," he said. "That's still to be determined," she said, "although you're off to a fine start." "Isn't it the finish that counts?" he asked as he unfastened the button on her slacks. Her skin was flushed all the way down her chest. He found it sexy, and kissed her there before straightening up. "It all counts," she answered. Her hands were making short work of his button fly. "Anyone can start, and anyone can finish." She was taking deep breaths, as if she'd been running. "It's that middle bit that's tough to master." Was that a challenge in her voice? "You looking for a master, Scully?" "I'm looking for a partner," she said. "What are you looking for?" She stilled her hands, and he wondered what the best response would be; what should he say to make her hand go back to what it was doing a minute ago? Nothing was coming to mind. Nothing poetic and loving and sensitive. He had to say something, and the truth wasn't Browning, but it was the truth. "If you put your hand back where it was, I won't be looking for anything because my life will be perfect." "Talk about thinking with your dick," she said, but she was laughing and pushing his pants off his hips. Glory be. He helped by kicking off his running shoes, and in a few seconds his pants and boxers were on the floor. Then he looked down and realized how stupid he looked wearing nothing but a white button-down shirt and socks. "You look like Tom Cruise in 'Risky Business,'" Scully said. She was grinning. "Tom Cruise is really short," he noted. "What are you saying here?" She laughed again and unbuttoned his shirt, and when she pushed it off to reveal his cock, she stared at it a moment before making a fist around it. "Well, I haven't seen Tom Cruise's top gun," she said, and she stroked him down and up, "but I don't think you have anything to worry about." And then she licked her lips. Mulder almost fainted. He was never going to outlast Tad at this point. The most he could hope for was making Scully happy in the process, no matter how speedy the process turned out to be. He tackled her onto the bed and struggled with her slacks as just laughed and squirmed. Damn. She wanted the middle bit, and here he was sprinting to the finish line owing to the softness of her breasts, the sight of her tongue, and the sound of her laugh. After a minute or so of physical comedy with Scully's pants, he realized that he'd managed to get her naked. Close to naked, anyway; they both still had their socks on. But Mulder was too happy about seeing the rest of Scully to care about her feet right now. He'd seen her body before, in a few fleeting and stressful moments -- he'd seen her naked for about two seconds in the contamination shower, but it wasn't exactly romance in there. The other peeks he'd gotten over the years had been just enough to propel his fantasies into a realistic realm, but he'd never noticed the freckles on her chest, or that little moon-shaped scar on her thigh. He hadn't had a good look at the flare of her hip since that night so long ago in Oregon, and he'd forgotten how very female she was under her clothes. Her legs weren't as long as Tyra's, but Tyra wasn't even a real person, not in his mind. Tyra's skin wasn't warm like Scully's, and Mulder doubted Tyra could recite the periodic table or slice open a body or shoot a gun. No, he'd stick with Scully, thanks. Her breasts were so soft against his chest, and somehow felt larger than they looked. She was pushing into his cock with her thigh, and rubbing her crotch on his leg. She was hot and insistent, and he wanted to be inside her. "About the middle bit," he said as he pulled away a little, "can I give you a raincheck on that?" "Yeah," she panted out. "I think the middle can come later." And she kissed him. He muttered a muffled 'thank you' into her mouth, and silently blessed her as she spread her legs and shifted into position beneath him. He couldn't wait another second, and he pushed into her and Scully felt perfect around his cock, perfect with her hands in his hair, perfect as she arched into him and pulled him deeper. "God, Mulder," she said, her voice an airy whisper. "Oh, God." He wanted this to be the middle part, wanted it to last forever. He wanted nothing more than to look at Scully's face and feel the slide of his body into hers, back out and in again, forever and ever. She was clamped around him, arms and legs wrapping him in a warm wet Scully cocoon. She groaned -- he hoped in ecstasy rather than agony -- and pulled her legs higher up on his back; and he found himself hitting bottom, against her cervix or something, but it was so good, whatever it was; and he watched as her eyes widened and a look of supreme surprise crossed her face and she said, "More," and since more was all he wanted too, he had no problem with that. Scully's eyelids drifted closed and she formed no words, but panted out staccato moans, which grew higher in pitch the faster Mulder went. She was getting tighter and the pleasure was insane and he could barely stand it but he didn't want it to ever stop, never; he just wanted this woman attached to him this way for eternity, even though it wasn't the middle bit she'd wanted. Her legs weren't around him anymore; she was using them for leverage as he gave her all he had with each thrust, and she gave it all back and more with each parry. Sweat was making him slip and skid across her skin, and the bedspread beneath her was getting bunched up, and all of a sudden Mulder remembered how messy and wonderful sex was, but it had never been as good as this before because it was never Scully before, and she was grunting like she was dying, and rubbing her own crotch, and she was *so* tight and she stopped thrusting back but he couldn't stop, and she was talking to him now but he didn't hear her because there was a huge waterfall in his head, and he was in a barrel going over Niagara Falls, and oh God what a rush it was, but he didn't fall, he floated through the air until he was in shallow calm water, and Scully was there and she was here on his bed, oh God did that really happen, or had he imagined the whole thing... "Mulder." She spoke into his shoulder. She was real. "You're too heavy for me now." The hair around her face was dark and wet with perspiration, and she was huffing like she'd just run a marathon. So was he, he realized. He was crushing her poor lungs, so he rolled off his female pillow. His bedroom smelled like her now. She smiled at him and yawned. "Sorry," she said. "I haven't had a workout quite like that in a long time." "I've never had a workout like that," he said. She turned to face him. "Was it what you imagined?" "I could never have imagined that. That was..." He didn't know how to describe what that was. "Intense," Scully supplied. "More than that," he said. "I think we've just turned the record over." She smiled and ran a hand through her damp hair, grimacing a bit when her fingers caught a knot. "Damn. I was sort of hoping to have a really long middling bit consisting of a lot more of that." Mulder took over the finger-combing of her hair, and he kissed her wet forehead and thought that he was right: they'd just started side two. "Don't worry," he told her. "It's a very long record." * End * Feedback would be appreciated, at Lysandra@mediaone.net or Lysandra31@aol.com BETA THANKS: To Jemirah, Livia Balaban, Noelle Leithe, Sarah Ellen Parsons, and Syntax6. You all make me want to be a better writer. NOTE: The Sinatra records were suggested by Diana Battis for another fic but they didn't quite fit so here they are instead. Thanks, Diana! ANOTHER NOTE: I wrote the mention of the Ramones weeks before I heard the sad news that Joey Ramone had died. If you don't know who the Ramones are, check them out. The Ramones are one of the best punk/pop/rock bands ever, and their music is pure fun. If you like Green Day, or Blink 182, you'll hear the Ramones' influence. Two, two, two websites of my fic! http://shannono.net/lysandlys/main.html http://www.geocities.com/gnataliexyz/gnatworldmain.html