Title: The Jerk From: Evan Black EvanJ4mesBlack@gmail.com Rating: NC-17 Summary: Scully's putting all her eggs in one bastard. THE JERK So, anyway, we've got an hour for lunch and I'm in this grotty little office with what looks like a McFlurry cup, and a dog-eared Hustler which was a lousy issue when it first came out in June 1995 and which has not improved with age. How's a guy supposed to perform when all he can think of is how he'd rather be in possession of a jar of chocolate body paint and a petite redhead? How come the cookie never crumbles my way? Still, I got to do my best, cos Scully's outside like an oven-ready turkey all ready for basting. I know that's an over-used analogy - and it was lame the first time round - but shit, the McFlurry and the sticky old Hustler has suddenly made me feel more than a bit hard done by in this whole donation scenario. I mean, what the hell! How hard would it be for her to just let me fuck her? They can implant viable ova nowadays - no need for all this cold technology. How repulsive does she find me that she can't just close her eyes, open her legs and take one for the team? She could have saved herself thousands of bucks and a whole bunch of prodding by doctors - and received my donation hot, fresh and expertly delivered right on target. And what's more, I wouldn't have charged her for subsequent insertions if the first one didn't take. Or the first hundred. When she first asked me to do this I was flattered. Scared but definitely flattered. But now I feel like, if I'm not good enough for you, Scully, how come I'm good enough to be the father of your child? I mean, what is she? Some kind of lesbian? The Virgin goddamn Mary? Hell, she let that asshole Jack Willis up her and that bigger asshole Daniel Dickhead who was fucking married at the time, in case you hadn't noticed. She even slept or nearly slept with Ed Jerse. And my next door neighbor. And they both tried to kill her! But not me. Not Fox Mulder. Not the man who's shared her life and loved her for the past seven years. God forbid she should ask her best friend for a quick roll in the hay in the interests of her own happiness (my happiness apparently being not a factor). Oh no, suddenly Dana Scully gets all uptight about the sex thing and decides to make it with a test tube in order to get pregnant. It's not logical. It's NOT logical. Damn. If only I'd thought of that argument that night in her apartment when she asked me to be the sperm donor! The logical argument is a dead cert for Scully. She'd have fallen at the feet of the logical argument and been forced to fuck me. Man, I must really make her skin crawl if she'd rather spend six thousand dollars than spend twenty minutes naked with me. And I wouldn't even have insisted on the naked thing. God, she could have cut a hole in a sheet between us if she was that repelled by the thought of me touching her. And twenty minutes is probably an over-estimate too. Twenty seconds would probably be more like it, the way I feel about her; the way I've felt about her for so long that I can barely walk straight when she's around. Now I'm staring at skinny old Miss June with her frizzed hair and a big white patch on one tit where the pages stuck together and some poor desperate about-to-be-disappointed bastard ripped them open - and I'm supposed to come into a Happy Meal cup? It ain't happening, folks. Plus I'm now so cross at Scully that I feel like castrating myself just to spite her. Then she'd be sorry. Except she probably wouldn't be. She'd probably just raise a single eyebrow at my hacked-off nads and tell me not to worry cos she's got Skinner on standby. Or some guy she met in line for coffee. No one special. I sigh. This is just not fair. I've already been in here fifteen minutes and soon Scully's going to think I have erectile dysfunction to add to all the other reasons she apparently has for preferring a speculum and a syringe to my perfectly adequate dick. Fuck this. I have my pride. It's very tiny and laughably under-used but I think I just remembered where I saw it last, covered in fluff in the pocket of my jeans. Which are round my ankles. I yank them and my boxers up so fast and hard and angry that my dick's not properly adjusted and I wince, but ignore it. I get up and stride out into the waiting room. Scully looks up and blushes at me holding the Hustler. A clinic nurse comes over with her hand held out for my McFlurry deposit. Her smile slips when she realizes I don't have it with me. 'Is there a problem Mr Mulder?' 'Yeah,' I tell her, 'Do you have any other magazines?' Scully blushes on top of her blush. 'Er, is there a problem with that magazine?' 'I've read it.' 'Oh,' she says, a little taken aback. 'It's quite old. Can't you read it again?' People are listening to us now but I don't give a shit. I couldn't feel more humiliated than I already do. Time to share the love. 'I have a photographic memory,' I tell her. 'And I didn't... ENJOY... this issue the first time round four years ago. Miss June's not my type.' Some of the other men snigger but all the women look affronted or wholly embarrassed. Good. 'Mulder?' Scully looks more embarrassed than most - or maybe that's just her red hair coming into play. Good again. 'What Scully?' I turn on her in exasperation - and all the loving couples who have come here to prove their love for each other even though they can go home and MAKE love any time they WANT, look at me like I'm the Boston Strangler. 'What's the problem Mulder?' She says this really quietly, trying to get me to calm down, I know, but I'm too pissed off to make it easy for her. 'The problem Scully? The problem is, I'm wondering why I'm in that nasty little room trying to get hard for a woman who looks like Woody Allen when this would all be so much cheaper, easier and more fun for all involved if I just took you home and fucked you!' As soon as the words are out of my mouth I figure I may have gone a bit too far in the honesty department. Even the men look embarrassed now. And Scully's moved from embarrassment to hard-faced anger. With me, naturally. 'Don't you think this is something we might have discussed... BEFORE, Mulder?' I wonder if it's too late to slay her with the logical argument. Something tells me Yes. 'I only just thought about it,' I lie sulkily. 'Well thank you for sharing Mulder,' she picks up her purse and walks out. The nurse thins her lips at me and I hand her the Hustler and go after Scully. It helps that I'll never see these people again. I hope. I'm sure they all feel the same way about me. I catch up with Scully at the elevator but she turns her back on me. I do feel bad for having embarrassed her but the more I think about it, the more I think I'm right, so I'm not about to grovel here. The elevator doors open and we both step in. Scully's face is set and pale and she almost punches the First Floor button through the metal wall. She watches the lights flicker down from 22. Ignores me. 'I'm sorry I embarrassed you Scully.' That's not grovelling. That's just an apology for embarrassing her. She crosses her arms and ignores me some more. 17...16...15... 'I just. It was just that... Fuck. That crappy magazine. Miss June! And the nasty little cup. And you sitting right outside. Waiting for me to...' 12...11...10... 'It's just so...fucking...COLD. I mean, I know it's only like 20 minutes out of my life and I know it means a lot to you. I know that. I know it does. I'm sorry... I really am.' 7...6...5... 'Oh fuck it Scully. Let's go back. I'm being a jerk. I'm just... It doesn't matter. There was no need to be that way. I'm an asshole. You know that.' Now THAT's grovelling. See the difference? I guess Scully does, cos she hits the STOP button on the elevator and turns to look at me. 'You ARE an asshole Mulder.' 'I know. I just said so. You're not telling me anything new here.' She chews her lips. 'C'mon Scully. Press Up and let's do this crazy thing.' She gives me a funny kind of look then, and I'm surprised her anger disappeared so fast. Grovelling certainly is a magical weapon in the war of the sexes. But she still doesn't press Up. 'C'mon Scully. We got to be back at work in half an hour. I'm rarin' to go!' This is laying it on a bit thick, I know, but I want to erase my earlier disgraceful behavior and I feel over-enthusiasm from here on in will probably take care of it. She checks her watch, then very slowly looks at me with an expression I've never seen before. I don't recognize it. 'Are you Mulder?' 'Am I what?' 'Rarin' to go?' 'Sure Scully. Don't you know Rarin' when you see it?' And goddamn if she doesn't check out my crotch to see Rarin' for herself! Not that it's quite there, of course. I just meant that, once in possession of the cup and the Hustler again, I'm sure I can perform - now that I've had my tantrum I know I'll be able to do what I do best in double-quick time. Frankly, this elevator ride with Scully is really helping to put me in the mood. I love being in elevators with her. Any confined space will do, but a confined space with throbbing machinery and a limited window of (strictly hypothetical) opportunity is my idea of an aphrodisiac. The thought makes me glance up now to look for cameras - like I always do - but there are none. 'There are no cameras Mulder.' She says, and it takes me a second to realize what a strange thing that is for HER to say. Or to have noticed. And she's still not pressing Up. 'We don't have time now to go back upstairs.' she says, edging a little closer to me. 'Sure we do. Watch me.' I grin so she knows I'm not always quick off the mark but that I'll make a special effort for her. Then I realize that 'Watch Me' is probably an inappropriate thing to say in the circumstances, and wonder if I should try to back-pedal before she picks up on it. Too late. She looks amused. I don't know how she does that without smiling, but I know she's amused. Plus she takes another step towards me - she's like 18-inches away now and suddenly she's kinda halved the already confined space we were in, which ups the ante considerably in the Rarin' stakes. My cock fills a little awkwardly, tangled up in my hastily-yanked-up boxers. I break out in a light sweat and look up at the floor light flashing on hold. 'Um, Scully...? 'Yes Mulder?' she looks up at me like she really wants to know what I have to say. Trouble is, I have nothing TO say. I just said that to fill in an air-space that was beginning to tingle around us. I can feel blood pouring into my cock and I'm starting to wish I'd got that McFlurry cup to go. 'Um, We don't have time Scully.' 'I just said that Mulder. Weren't you listening?' 'No. I mean, yes. I was listening but--' She puts a finger on my chest and presses me back against the elevator wall and my hard-on is stuck at a weird angle down the leg of my boxers and is getting really uncomfortable. 'I said we don't have time to go back upstairs, Mulder.' I look at my watch but my head's swimming too fast to actually tell the time, so I just agree with her. She must be right; she usually is. 'Uh, yeah, you're right Scully.' 'So, what do you want to do Mulder? Just take me home and fuck me?' I can't believe she just said that. Dana Scully asked if I wanted to take her home and fuck her! Fuck! What IS it with these goddam boxers?! This has never happened before! I can actually feel my cock throb against my thigh. Because of what she just said. Of course, I know she's just yanking my chain - throwing what I said earlier back in my face, but still, my cock doesn't know that. Now if only my underwear would play along, I'd be enjoying this instead of wincing with every heartbeat. And those beats are coming thick and fast, let me tell you. 'I'm sorry about that Scully. I'm a jerk.' She looks me in the eyes, so I meet her gaze steadily to let her know I'm not lying. I really AM a jerk. And then she runs a gentle hand up the inside of my leg. And touches my cock. I nearly come right there. I grunt and her eyes widen in surprise. She obviously hadn't planned on finding quite that level of intimacy so soon above my knee. She falters, blushes, removes her hand and her eyes drop to my pants. She frowns at my groin. Call me old fashioned, but I never think it's a good sign when the woman you're desperately in love with - and would very much like to have sex with - frowns at your groin. There just doesn't seem to be any scenario in which that could be construed as sexually expedient. 'What's going on here Mulder?' How's she to know that those words take me straight back to the sixth grade when Mr Darbly found me and Monica Trustworth peering into each others undies in a cavern made of gym mats. I blush all over again. 'Er, it's caught in my boxers. It can't get out.' She starts to giggle. It's the most unexpected thing. One minute she's so angry with me I think she's going to slap me; the next minute she's all dominatrix, prodding me and running her hands up my leg; and the minute right after that, she's giggling like a little girl and - oh my god! - kneeling down and unzipping my pants and sliding her cool hand through the fly of my tight boxers and expertly gripping my cock to maneuver it carefully back to where it should-- Oh, okay, to maneuver it clear out of my pants and into her-- 'uggggghhh! Sc--ugggggh! Ahhh Scully!' Mouth. Jesus. 'Oh Jesus. Hold on. Oh god. Scully Oh god. Oh god...' She sucks off the end of my cock with a little 'pop' and looks up at me seriously. 'I thought you didn't believe in God Mulder?' 'No. Yes I don't,' I blabber. She looks at my cock and frowns. Again with the frowning! 'We don't have time for you to take me home either Mulder.' She pokes out her little pink tongue and teases my slit. 'Yeah. Oh god. No. Oh Scully' I don't know what I'm saying. Nothing interesting, that's guaranteed. 'So, Mulder, you wanna fuck me right here?' I whimper. I actually whimper. Jeez, if there ARE any cameras in this car, that whimper just won me pride of place in the Otis Co. Christmas party Elevator-bloopers video. Scully takes that whimper as a yes. Well, that and the desperate jerk of my hips that almost has her eye out. Thank God for body language. Good old God. She stands up, steps to one side and braces herself against the wall beside me, sticking her ass out so far I could balance a glass on it. I get behind her and yank her skirt up so fast it's almost comical. My cock is now pressed between her creamy thighs and I can't help thrusting between them in my excitement. But Scully has a masterplan and she's not losing sight of it. She widens her stance so her thighs no longer clamp my cock. 'Not that way, Mulder,' she warns me. I'm dizzy. That means what I think it means; I'm sure it does. It means there's another way. So I slide my hand against her panties which are hot and wet and smell so good they make me start to jettison pre-cum at an alarming rate. With her legs spread wide, I can't yank her panties down, so I just push them aside and feed myself into her. She gasps as I enter, then her eyes close and she kind of sinks back against me as I slide in the rest of the way. Oh my god. Inside Dana Scully. I'm inside Dana Scully. I never want to leave. I want to get a tattoo on my cock. 'I've been inside Dana Scully and it was a hot, tight, sucking piece of heaven on Earth'. It would cost quite a bit and hurt loads, but it would be worth it. She pulls away from me and thrusts back again, and I remember I'm supposed to be the one doing the work here, so I start moving in and out, trying to get deeper inside each time - convinced that I can - pushing her back further down, bracing my feet just so, holding her hips nice and still so my cock can explore at will. I change the angle and she groans, so I stick with it, getting faster, and her hands make fists on the metal wall, and her pussy shoves back at me as hard as I'm rutting into her, and suddenly she starts to wail - I mean, really wail - and I just keep going that same pace and in that same place that's making her do that, and after a few minutes she howls and almost collapses as she starts to come. Her legs go to rubber, so I shove her flat against the wall and hold her up with my whole body as I slam into her now, feeling her climax grabbing my cock and tugging it into herself so hard that I wonder if I'll ever get it out. Who cares? I curl my hands round her shoulders to keep her firmly grounded as my frantic thrusting becomes unstoppable and white-hot and I come and come and come and - feeling my own cum dripping out onto my balls - I yell her name and come again. Then my legs give way and we both sink to the floor of the car, kneeling, me still inside her, her crying now, although she's still clenching around my cock. The crying suddenly registers through the ringing in my ears and I pull her up so her back's against my chest and I can look round into her face. 'Scully?' I say, concerned. But she just smiles and nods and contracts around me again, so I let her drop to her hands and knees and enjoy sliding lazily in and out of her a few more times before I slowly withdraw. I gently pull her skirt back over her hips, and put my cock back in my pants. Properly. I help her to her feet and her crying's stopping. She looks beautiful, with her eyes all red and her cheeks streaked with tears, and her lower lip swollen where she's bitten it, and her hair all over the place. Utterly beautiful. I kiss her for the first real time and there's no sex in it, only love, and my heart feels suddenly like my cock just did - like it's swelling and filled with the evidence of my love for her. 'I love you Scully.' After all the years of not saying it, there's nothing else I could possibly say right at this moment. 'I love you Mulder.' No hesitation. No logic. Nothing but love. We stand for another minute, just holding each other, then I lean over and hit the Stop button again and the elevator shakes and gets going. 'Will we be late?' I look at my watch. Whaddya know? I can tell the time again. 'We'll be fine,' I tell her. 'And we can come back whenever you want Scully. For another appointment.' She grins at me then. 'Maybe I'll just give the natural method a go, Mulder. For a while.' I know what she's saying. She's saying we're going to do this again and it feels great. Super-great. I haven't felt like this since I got a Chopper on my ninth birthday. Purple metallic paint and orange streamers. That's how fucking great this feels - like I want to cry and show off and run around laughing all at the same time. 'That okay with you Mulder?' My head's too full of happy to be a smart-ass. 'If that's okay with you, Scully.' 'We'll see how it goes.' 'You never know your luck, Scully.' 'And you never know yours, Mulder.' I smile at her: 'Oh, I think I do.' She smiles back and winds her fingers through mine as the elevator rumbles and clunks to a halt on the first floor. To my still-buzzing ears, it sounds a lot like an enormous cookie crumbling my way. END