From keyup@aol.com Wed Mar 05 15:33:12 1997

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: "F**king in the Woods" humor/NC-17 by Rachel B.

From: keyup@aol.com (KEY UP)

Date: 5 Mar 1997 21:33:12 GMT

--------

DISCLAIMER: 1013 and CCarter own it all, I'm just, er, f**king with the

characters, for fun and not profit

CATEGORY: humor primarily, NC-17 for sex and the F-word, but hey I'm a

sedate married type, it's not too wild

COMMENTS: well, this is neither romance ("I've always loved you too, Fox")

nor slash ("oak-hard", "throbbing") but instead my weird little way of

getting the characters together. I was trying to be true to them, get

their voices down, so I had to give them a couple complementary sexual

quirks to push 'em over the edge. In a strange way, it proves I'm not a

'shipper, because I just can't see it without my twist of how Scully gets

so hot when she... and then Mulder always wants to... ah, just read it.

It's all meant to be funny.

oh, and if you want to e-mail me, it may be difficult to reach me at this

address, since it's not my account. But I'll try and I'd love feedback.

leader space for the folks bailing out now...

Fucking in the Woods

by Rachel Boyce

Dana Scully set down the scalpel and pressed 'Record.'

"The third victim has also suffered multiple stab wounds to the back. It's

difficult to be certain, but at least thirteen different marks can be

distinguished. Other evidence suggests, however, that these wounds were

inflicted after death. Cause of death - unknown."

Her hand began to tremble and she set the recorder down quickly. Peeling

off the bloodied gloves, she moved to the sink and began to scrub. Scully

met her own eyes in the mirror and let out a deep breath. She took off her

eye protection and blotted the perspiration on her brow. Her cheeks were

flushed, and she pressed her cold hands against them.

The cell phone began to ring. Irritated, she dug it out of the trenchcoat

she'd flung over a chair hours before.

"Scully?"

"Mulder, where are you?" she snapped.

"Sounds like you've finished with the autopsies, hmm?" Mulder's voice was

smugly amused.

"Yes, I have." Scully mustered her professionalism. "All inconclusive.

I'll get the test results tomorrow though. The Forensics lab closed early

here."

"Good. In the meantime I have been doing a little investigating. I have

something I want to show you, Scully."

"Oh."

"In the woods."

In the woods, indeed! Mulder knew her all too well. Three autopsies back

to back...

"Scully, are you still there?" That damned self-satisfaction.

"Mulder...," Scully reached beneath her lab coat and pulled at her moist

panties. The wretched things were sticking to her. Maybe she should stop

shaving.

"Wait for me, Scully. I'll pick you up in five minutes."

***

The woods, at dusk, were gloomy and silent. Wet leaves underfoot muffled

the sounds of their passage.

"...how else can you explain it?" Mulder was insisting, as Scully sighed.

"Mulder, it's getting dark. Let's get back to the car."

"Come on, Scully," Mulder stopped to peer at her expression in the dim

light, "You're just reacting to the stress of those autopsies."

"Stress!" Scully burst out, "And then being dragged through the woods

for," she glanced at her watch, "A good forty-five minutes!"

Mulder was grinning.

"And now you're going to say...you like my impatience."

"I do, Scully. Very much." He was reaching out to her, sliding his hands

under her suit. His chilled fingers rolled her nipples erect.

"Mmm...Mulder...," her arousal was returning, "Everything is dripping wet.

Why can't we..."

"Mulder, why can't we just go to the hotel?" he mimicked her, turning her

around to face a tree. "Put your hands up. C'mon, Scully. Spread 'em for

me."

Mulder leaned over her, his mouth on her neck as he undid her pants.

"Why can't you wear skirts like you used to?"

"Because then, you'd complain about the stockings."

Now he was shifting her trenchcoat to the side and undoing his own zipper.

The air was cold on her bare ass. In a moment he was pressing against her,

warm, hard.

"Oooh, Scully, you're already wet."

"Yes, well, shaved, I'm always wet."

"Maybe I should tell Frohike."

"Tell Frohike and you're a dead man."

"Scully, um, can you...lean forward a bit? Shift your hips...is there

something you can stand on?"

"Dammit, Mulder. I'm already wearing these ridiculous three-inch heels for

you! You're the one who always insists on doing it 'in the field,' or the

woods, or parking garages..."

She broke off as Mulder pressed harder and abruptly slid inside her. He

wrapped one arm around her hips and leaned into her. Scully groaned.

Mulder knew how she liked it, knew her like nobody else. He wasn't

perfect, but he was the best thing she'd had since she and Jack used to

pull out all the morgue drawers and go at it there on the floor.

"Don't forget, Scully," Mulder murmured into her hair, "You're the one who

thought of the trenchcoats - warmth, privacy, easy to brush off the

leaves..."

"Harder, Mulder!"

Mulder gripped her hips and fucked her as hard as he could. His fingers on

her clitoris spun her into ecstasy. As Scully came, her knees began to

wobble and Mulder had to hold tightly to come inside her. For a moment

they stood together, gasping. Mulder pulled away and, wet leaves or no,

Scully wrapped her trenchcoat around her and sat down with a thump.

"You'll stain that coat," Mulder warned.

"With this kind of relationship, dry cleaning's a bitch anyway." She

watched Mulder peel off the condom and fold it neatly into a tissue.

"Why don't you just toss it into the shrubs like every other teenager out

here?"

Mulder stopped. "Oh, leave my genetic material lying around in the woods?"

Scully rolled her eyes. Mulder helped her to her feet and she began to

pull her clothes together.

"You know," Scully smiled, "My mother keeps asking why we don't get

together."

"We are together, Scully."

"This is not 'together', Mulder, this is fucking in the woods."

"You mean more to me than anyone else, Scully. Why don't you hear me when

I tell you this? I trust only you."

"Then tell me, Mulder, in all honesty, that you and Agent Krycek

didn't..." Mulder stared at her defensively. Scully raised her eyebrows.

"You spent quite some time together, out in isolated areas like this..."

"And you haven't done Skinner?"

"Once, Mulder, and that was before we heard he was married."

Mulder turned away and headed down the hill to the car. Scully hurried

after him in the near-dark. His cell-phone rang.

"Mulder," he answered, controlled. "Uh-huh. Where?"

Scully couldn't see his expression as he leaned over to unlock her door.

"No, that's fine. We'll follow up."

She waited, listening, as Mulder walked around to the driver's side.

"Yeah, we'll meet them there." He pocketed the phone.

"Two more victims were reported in an abandoned warehouse. Anonymous

call-in. The sheriff won't be able to get there for another half hour. You

with me, Scully?"

They were silent, two shadows in the darkness. Warehouses were Mulder's

favorite, after forests. Mulder ran his hand over his hair.

"Maybe I should get a second opinion from the County Coroner. Get him to

do these two new autopsies for us. Maybe he can find what you missed."

"Get in the car, Mulder."

"Tell me you love me, Scully."

Scully opened her door and the interior light went on. Mulder was

grinning.