Title:IMPATIENT
Author: Annie
Rated R
Skinner /Scully Romance
Summary: The final chapter of the Haunted series.
Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, Skinner, and Krycek, unfortunately, are the dream children of Chris Carter. I do not own them, no matter how I may delude myself about it.
IMPATIENT
(Part 5 of the 'Haunted' series)
By Annie
"So truly exquisite," Walter Skinner thought to himself, drinking in the sight across the table from him while he tasted his wine. Dana Scully was wearing black jeans and a soft mauve v-neck sweater, with little mauve-colored pearl buttons down the front. He wouldn't have thought that would be a good color for her, but somehow it enhanced her hair, her eyes, and her enticing, creamy skin.
Plain and simply, she took his breath away, and made his insides smolder hungrily.
For her own part, glancing at her boss, her date, over the top of the big menu she was perusing, Agent Dana Scully couldn't come up with the vocabulary she needed for what she was seeing. Delicious came to mind. Also luscious, sexy, sensual, and any other adjectives she could summon up. He was wearing khaki-colored pants and a black pullover sweater. Pullover was what she wanted him to do - as in pull it over his head and take it off.
Plain and simply, he was driving her to distraction.
She finally settled on a small order of linguini with clam sauce. Something that wouldn't take too long to prepare. Or to eat.
AD Skinner ordered the same, and more wine for both of them, impatient with the work-related, Mulder-related small talk they had to keep up throughout the meal.
As if he didn't want to leap over the table and rip her clothes off. She was in immediate danger of being eaten alive.
She knew it.
Scully was making the small talk as impatiently as her Assistant Director. She kept imagining him naked, sitting across from her, and the flush of heat suffusing her entire being kept her slightly off base. Most of the time she didn't even know what they were talking about. Dinner was a formality they had to go through. They both knew that only the after-dinner events had any real importance.
She had met him at the restaurant, so as they left, they came to an important fork in the road. Separate cars to separate apartments; or what?
"I'll follow you, just to make sure you get home all right," Skinner said, making it almost sound like a command.
Images were flying through his mind; naked limbs and breasts, kissing, sucking, and the thought flashed through his brain suddenly that Agent Mulder would call Scully's apartment. He would want to see what happened after dinner, for surely she had told him she was going out. For some reason, Fox Mulder was amused by this sexual tension between his two co-workers.
He paused, making up his mind in a split second. He knew right where he wanted the evening to go.
"You've never seen the view from my balcony, have you?" he asked, pushing the image of Alex Krycek and handcuffs from his mind forcefully.
"No, I haven't," she replied softly, heart pounding in her chest. If he listened carefully enough, he could probably hear it. If she reached up and pulled his head onto her breast, he would surely hear it. The thought made her dizzy.
"I have wine," he teased, adding fuel to the fire.
She followed him to his building in her own car, glad for the small respite from the constant state of aching that being in his presence produced in her. She met him again at the front door of his tall building. They were out of small talk now, and they didn't even meet each others' gaze as they got on the elevators, acutely aware of the heat coming from each others' body in the small space. There were only two others on the elevator with them, but Skinner's apartment was way up there, so by the time they were halfway up, they were crushed into a back corner. There seemed to be a lot of people coming from dinner and shopping all of a sudden.
Scully's back was up against her boss's front, and she thought she would melt right then. She could smell him, and it sent her reeling into desire so intense she thought she would never be able to control herself. She had never, ever, felt such yearning for another human being.
Skinner had his eyes closed, inhaling the essence of the woman pressed into him. He was going to explode soon. He put his hands on the softness of her sweater, on her shoulders, sliding his big hands down her upper arms slowly, making sure to brush the sides of her breasts with his knuckles. It set him on fire.
Scully nearly gasped aloud when his hands brushed her breasts, but she was very aware of the crush of people in the enclosed space with them. She could feel the intense heat pouring from the man behind her, and she leaned back experimentally, pushing against the magnificent hardening at his groin. Skinner's hips ground forward against her, instinctively, before he could control himself.
When they finally reached his floor, they practically clawed their way out of the elevator, leaving a few disgruntled people behind, and not caring in the least.
Inside his apartment, Walter Skinner was a paragon of self-control. He could take his time now, he thought, and he deliberately turned off the ringer on his phone on the way to the kitchen to find the wine. Scully looked around curiously, comparing the reality of Skinner's home with what she had imagined on those numerous occasions when the want and need for him transcended any conscious thought and propelled her into the fantasy world of unrequited lust.
She wandered to the balcony doors, taking in the view of the city laid out before her. She saw Skinner's reflection emerge from the kitchen behind her. She waited.
Skinner stopped in the kitchen doorway, full glass of chilled wine in each hand, taking in the view before him. Hungrily. He regained control of his muscles and moved forward, coming up behind her, wrapping his right arm around her to hand her the wine.
"It's a bit chilly out there," he told her.
"That's okay," she said, smiling up into his dark eyes, drowning there. "I'd still like to go out."
He obliged her by opening the balcony door, his eyes never leaving her face, still almost unable to believe she could be here, alone with him. His heart was pounding in his ears.
Scully walked to the railing and sighed. "The view is great here," she said, sipping the wine thoughtfully, wondering to herself if she would have to ravage the man to get him to unbend. And more than willing to do so.
Skinner was still looking at her.
"The view is breath-taking right now," he replied quietly, moving in close to her, diminishing the distance between them inexorably.
"Sir...Walter, I mean, I..." She put her hand on his chest, stopping him, burning through to his heart.
He ground his molars in sheer exasperation.
"Agent Scully, do you want to go home?" he asked, more gruffly than he meant to.
She looked confused for a fleeting moment, the breeze ruffling the flame of her hair and blowing it into her eyes, hiding her expression.
She smiled beautifully, but he didn't return the gesture.
"Going home is the last thing I want to do right now," she explained, taking his glass from him. She took a few steps back and set both glasses on the floor by the railing.
"And what's the first thing you want to do?" he inquired solemnly, much less challengingly than his last question.
She didn't answer him. She simply leaned into him, burying her face in his neck and inhaling deeply.
"You smell so good," she whispered, running her hands up the front of his sweater, massaging his chest through the thick material. She raised her head and licked the clean-shaven skin under his jaw.
"You taste so good," she added, so quietly she could almost have been speaking to herself.
Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the F.B.I., was losing what small modicum of control he had managed to maintain all evening. His big hands were on her arms now, moving upward, and he wanted nothing more than to rip the sweater off and fling it over the balcony.
Her hands went back down to his waist and snaked up into his sweater, running up over the muscular chest, bare hands on bare skin. "You feel so good," she moaned. She swept her fingers over his nipples, and he gasped and squeezed her shoulders tightly.
He bent his head to whisper in her ear, almost unable to speak, all he wanted to do was push into her with all his considerable strength and cry out with the ecstasy of it.
"You are very close to the point of no return," he warned her, breathing harshly. "Another second or two, and I will not be responsible. I will not be able to control myself; I can hardly do it now. I have waited for so long for you, longer than I ever waited for anyone. And I want you more than I ever wanted anyone!"
"Patience is a virtue," Scully informed him softly. Her hand trailed down to trace the outline of the rock-hard bulge in his pants. "But can we be a little impatient now, and take our time later?" she asked.
Before he could answer her, she had crushed her mouth to his, trying to remove his glasses and sweater at the same time. He pulled away briefly, to pull the sweater off, and drop it and the glasses to the cement floor. He remembered where they were when the cool air hit his bare chest, but at this point, he didn't care. The chilly breeze was stark contrast to the burning of her hands and the fiery trail she began to blaze with her lips, across his jaw, down his throat and chest to his nipples. Scully bit them gently, just once, and he twisted his fingers into her hair savagely, pulling her face back up to his to devour her mouth.
He had to be dreaming. He couldn't possibly be here, with Dana Scully, like this. On his balcony. At least it was dark. She was crushing him back against the wrought-iron railing, and somewhere in the back of his mind he prayed it would hold against the stress. It had always seemed very strong, though, and he pushed the thought from his reeling mind. He had other things to concentrate on right now.
Skinner's hands raced to the front of her sweater and, not wanting to bother with the buttons, he just pulled it right over her head, flinging it in the direction of the balcony door. Her bra disappeared next, in the same general direction, and Skinner broke away from her seeking mouth to rest his head on her chest.
She moaned softly and pulled herself to him. He cupped her breasts in his hands - her so-perfect breasts - and spent a little time there, licking the soft flesh, sucking the luscious nipples.
Scully stopped him abruptly, breathing raggedly. She kissed him again.
"Get these off!" she demanded into his open mouth, pulling at his pants impatiently, then rushing out of her own jeans and panties.
She pushed onto him roughly and he groaned into her mouth. She was doing something that was knocking him off balance. Then he realized she was climbing onto his waist, bracing herself by putting her feet on the railing behind him, one on either side of him, legs wrapped around him, her mouth still crushed to his. They were cloaked in darkness, caressed by the cool breeze, and Walter Skinner was in Heaven. Burning up, but in Heaven.
"Fuck me! Do it now!" she demanded, trying to reach down to help guide him into her. He was light-headed with the rush of blood gone to his groin. He couldn't ever remember his cock being so huge, so hard, and Scully was sucking it all in, swallowing his mouth with hers, swallowing his cock with the very core of her being. He chewed on her mouth, groaning into her, pumping into her viciously, out here on his balcony, in the black of night. His cock was burning up, reaching for release. Skinner thought he wouldn't be able to control himself another second, when Scully jammed herself onto him urgently, gasping for breath through an intense orgasm.
She laid her head on his shoulder, biting on his neck, murmuring, "Come, come now, I want all of you!"
Skinner didn't need any more urging, he was ready to explode as it was. His orgasm took his breath away painfully, went on and on, and when he finally came to his senses and lowered her gently off him, kissing her all the way down, he was very grateful to the architect for putting in strong balcony railings.
He kissed Scully tenderly a few minutes, not at all surprised when his cock started to regain it's rigid, aching stature. She reached down and took it in her hand.
"Get the wine," she whispered. "I want to go inside and demonstrate patience now."
Skinner thought that was probably a good idea. He didn't want to entertain the neighborhood any longer tonight.
He closed the balcony door behind him and regarded Scully, amused.
"Agent Scully," he began, "Let's just see how patient you really are!"
He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.
THE END
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