Fox Mulder was not stupid. As oblivious as he may have seemed to his everyday surroundings, busy with his own personal driving quests, he noticed the people around him a lot more than they thought he did.
When his red-headed partner slammed the file drawer shut, in what could only have been complete frustration, he almost jumped out of his seat, but he was an expert at the art of total composure. He had a good poker face. She left in a hurry, and he knew she didn't have a date or anything; she just had to get out of the office. He had already seen the feigned interest in the filing cabinet, with her keen mind floating elsewhere. He had also already seen the way her ears tried not to perk up when he answered the phone on his desk and it was the AD.
An hour or so later, when the AD himself showed up, with some lame excuse about looking for the report that Mulder had already told him would be on his desk in the morning, Dana Scully's partner almost laughed. Almost, but not quite; couldn't quite bring himself to give credence to the look of disappointment on his boss's face.
The AD took abrupt leave, too, and Mulder stood by the closed door of his office, almost sure Skinner had stopped in the hall. Oh, well, he had work to do. He had to get home himself sometime.
But the work would not stay in his mind. He knew this had been brewing for months, now, unobtrusively, unbeknownst to the two principals involved. He knew Scully as intimately as he could without having actually slept with her. And he was pretty sure he knew AD Skinner, as well. Neither one of them was as good at hiding their feelings as they thought.
Mulder leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes thoughtfully. What if Skinner was going to Scully's apartment, instead of his own? What if Mulder waited an hour or so, and called her on the phone? Would she act normal, or would he get the idea that something was up?
Something would be up, all right, he thought, imagining the scene for himself. He had already seen Scully in various stages of undress, and what he hadn't seen, his mind had no trouble conjuring up for him.
And he had seen Walter Skinner in various stages of undress as well, in the gym here in the building. He had no trouble at all seeing a naked AD Skinner in Scully's apartment.
He let his thoughts fly by themselves.
Skinner would knock on the door; not too loudly, just enough to make sure she heard. Scully would, of course, let him in. She would probably be wearing something soft and comfortable, maybe a long shirt and some leggings, or something like that. The picture changed. Maybe she'd be wearing nothing at all.
No, she had to wear clothes, so Skinner could revel in removing them. Mulder smiled tightly. The thought of Skinner removing Dana's clothes brought an aching to his groin that would be best left alone. There was work to be done, after all.
But the scene, once in his mind, continued vividly.
Skinner, walking into Scully's apartment, dropping his overcoat on a chair carelessly, and without a single word of hello the brawny ex-Marine would attack her mouth with his savagely, making her gasp, making her wet.
He would stop then, quickly, so she wouldn't get too used to the sensation of tasting him, and ask her for a glass of wine or something, anything, just so he could watch her figure as she walked away from him. His eyes would burn right through her clothes; maybe he already knew what she looked like without them, and maybe he didn't, but he'd be finding out pretty quickly.
She would pour wine with shaky hands; Scully led quite a solitary life, and if she was fucking anybody, Mulder certainly didn't know how she was managing to do it without his knowing. They spent practically every waking moment together. And he had a sneaking suspicion with whom she spent every sleeping, dreaming moment.
His litrle daydream progressed past some small talk, through a few tiny, seeking kisses, through Skinner massaging one breast through the soft shirt, and then breathing into her ear that she had to take it off, right away.
She would, of course, in this dream, because Mulder would not tolerate anything interfering with his erotic vision. He was a voyeur now, watching as the two stumbled, still kissing and caressing, into Scully's bedroom, to fall on the bed and practically tear each other's clothes off. Skinner would be hard and glorious. Mulder wondered suddenly which of the two naked dream-people was making his own cock so hard. Scully was beautiful, of course. In his vision, she would be perfect. Skinner, on the other-hand, hard as he was and big as he was, mesmerized Mulder to distraction.
He finally had to give in and take his cock out of his pants, stroking it to the rhythms he could imagine seeing on Scully's bed. Breathing harshly for the two people in his daydream, spying on an act that wasn't even happening, but was going to tear his insides out in a moment or two.
Mulder was going to explode soon, but they had to do it first.
Scully, hardly breathing at all, getting to climb over the brink into spasms of ecstasy; Mulder almost made it with her, but he waited.
Skinner, now that Scully was satisfied, grinding down into her with all his might, growling into her ears, wordless nothings, finally coming with gut-wrenching force, as Mulder did the same in his chair.
Mulder shook his head, amused. He wondered idly if they had the same thoughts about each other, and vowed to pay even closer attention from now on.
At home, Scully was in her bubblebath; Skinner in his shower.
All was not right with the world just yet.
End Part 3
Part 4