Disclaimer: Not mine. You know the drill.
Thanks to xdksfan, Toate & Liz for suggesting a sequel! Bouquets to Tali for rescuing me as always.
Dedicated to Sybil with gratitude for the motivation and the fun. Happy Birthday!
"Before you take it all
And I make that final fall
You've got to keep in mind
That I'm a new fool at an old game
A kid out of school tryin' to find my way But I don't know the rules, so teach me how to play..."
--Reba McEntire's "New Fool At An Old Game"--
He's forgotten his gloves, so he blows on his fingers and scans the parking lot looking for her car. The chilly February air does not bode well for his plans. He will have to keep her moving so she doesn't get too cold and give up. Hopefully she'll wear layers like he asked her to. He still can't quite believe she agreed to meet him in this park to let him teach her some touch football. He'd meant it as a joke. He was holding her hand on that afternoon at the Kennedy Center, stirred by her touch, so the words had just tumbled from his mouth. Surprisingly, she'd squeezed his hand and taken him up on his teasing offer.
"Well, yeah. Fresh air, exercise, there are some nuances to it, nobody gets hurt."
They had reached the parking lot; having come in separate cars, it was time for them to part company. Her small, delicate hand felt warm enclosed within his larger one. They'd been holding hands for most of the afternoon, and he was reluctant to release her now.
"Mulder, I don't know if we should risk it. It doesn't take much for -you- to get hurt," she laughed. She also didn't seem in any hurry to let go of his hand, he noticed with satisfaction.
"You wound me, Scully. What if I promise to be extremely careful?"
"OK, then, it's a deal. I guess if I can subject you to an afternoon of something I enjoy, I should let you do the same for me. It's only fair."
"It's not a question of fairness, Scully. I had a really good time today. I want to thank you for the invitation. But I'm not the only one around here who could do with some rejuvenating, as you put it. You have been pretty cranky, too."
"I have not," she retorted, but her lips had curled in a small smile. It was at this point that she pulled her hand away from his and reached for her car keys. He felt the absence of her touch keenly. He saw her to her car and made sure it started before turning back to his, still amazed that she had agreed to his idea so readily. She sure kept him guessing.
Her car. He spots her driving into the parking lot and feels the anticipation. He watches her emerge from her car and walk towards him, noting that she's dressed in a puffy down jacket and jeans. Jeans! He wonders if they are tight enough to show off that cute little ass of hers.
"Hey Scully! Glad you made it."
"Mulder, where is everybody?" She looks around the empty field, somewhat confused.
"Huh?" He's too busy studying how her legs look in those jeans and doesn't hear her question.
"The rest of the team. Aren't we playing touch football?"
Oops. He recovers quickly, returning his gaze to her face. "Sure we are, but not with a team. It's just you and me, Scully."
She eyes him warily. "How can we play football with just two people?"
"We're not playing a game. This is just your first lesson. I'm going to teach you the finer points. I didn't think you'd want the pressure of actually playing in a game right away."
"I see," she says, unconvinced.
"OK, lesson one: lose that coat. It's too bulky; you won't be able to move in it."
"It's cold out, Mulder," she protests.
"Don't worry. I'll soon heat you up." Her eyebrow rises at this suggestion and her cheeks flush just a bit. Is that the weather or...? She reluctantly removes her jacket and sets it on the ground next to the duffel bag at his feet. He observes that the sweatshirt she's wearing is just long enough to cover the top of her ass. Damn.
"Why couldn't you have suggested basketball, or ping-pong, or some other -indoor- sport, Mulder?" she says, rubbing her hands along her arms.
Because touching is against the rules in basketball. I want to -touch- you, Scully. Instead of answering her, he reaches into the duffel bag for the football.
"Catch first. Here." He takes a few steps back and gently tosses the football to her. Her reaction is quick but she can't quite get her small hands around the ball so she misses it. He walks over and sets the football in her hands, then wraps his own hands around hers.
"You have to catch it like this, with two hands. Did you ever play backyard football with your brothers, Scully?"
"No, my father didn't allow Melissa and me to play football with them." She lets him maneuver her hands around the football and he sees that slight flush again, at the edge of her hairline. He fights the urge to press his lips against her hair.
"No girls allowed?"
"It wasn't that. My father just didn't want us to get hurt. He knew the boys played too rough."
"He was probably right. OK, let's try again. Back it up, Scully."
He releases her hands and moves back several steps. She does the same, putting more distance between them. He tosses the football to her again, in a slow, gentle spiral, and this time she catches it.
"You go, FBI woman!" He points at her triumphantly. She looks pleased with herself and without warning flings the football back at him. She throws it better than he'd expected, but not far enough, and he has to scramble to catch it. She looks -very- pleased with herself.
After a few more tosses, he decides it's time to move this lesson along.
"OK, Scully. That was pretty good. Now let's do some running drills." Let the fun begin.
"Good. I'm getting cold just playing catch. What do you want me to do?"
He points out a nearby tree as their goal line and instructs her to take the ball and try to outrun him.
"It should be pretty easy because there's obviously nobody here to block you, but you have to beat me to the goal line," he tells her. She nods her understanding and stands waiting, feet slightly apart. He averts his eyes from her legs again and flips her the football.
She turns around and begins to run. He gives her a head start, enjoying the view of her petite form in motion, then takes off down the field after her. She's a fast runner but he's faster thanks to his long legs, and he's not going to give her any leeway. He catches up to her easily and reaches out his hand to touch her squarely on her back.
"Gotcha! End of play!" he says. She stops running and circles back to look at him, panting softly.
"Damn it, Mulder. You know you run faster than I do."
She tosses the football at him, aiming for his chest. He dodges it and grins at her.
"I gave you a head start. C'mon, one more and then it's my turn."
He signals her to start running and this time he gives her a bigger head start because he's enjoying the way that she seems seriously determined to outrun him. Not to mention that view again. He sets off after her and has to run a bit harder this time to catch her. As he draws up behind her, he can't help himself and he plants his hand squarely on her ass.
"Mulder!" She skids to a stop but he doesn't want to remove his hand. His fingers tremble and he wills them not to squeeze.
"End of play!" he says again. She turns around and glares at him, but as he finally takes his hand off her rear, he spies the hint of another smile. They stand quietly for a moment to get their breath back.
"OK, Scully, my turn. Now you try to catch me. I'll even go easy on you; I won't run at my top speed."
She heaves the football at him again; this time she aims higher and he grabs the ball before it reaches his head. He wheels around and takes off down the field, running at a pace that he thinks will put him just out of her reach. He's confident she won't overtake him so he doesn't bother to turn around and see how close behind him she really is.
She tackles him, grabbing him around the knees and bringing him to the ground with a thud. He lands with a yowl and she falls with him, clinging to his legs. The ground is still hard from the winter cold and he scrapes his bare hand against it. There is stinging pain and the rough landing knocks the wind out of him.
He slowly rolls onto his back; she's still clinging to his legs and so she rolls with him. She's laughing, hair in her eyes, and her chin is resting on his thigh. She is beautiful. He reaches down and pulls on her arms, to bring her face closer to his. His hand is killing him and it's starting to bleed, but he manages to tug her up so that she's now sprawled onto his chest.
"Scully, what the hell was that? It's TOUCH football. There's no tackling--aww--shit." He winces at the pain shooting through his hand.
"You didn't tell me that. How else was I going to stop you?" Her laughter subsides when she notices the blood on his hand. "Oh, Mulder, you're hurt."
The feel of her on top of him is causing something other than his hand to throb, but he can't bring himself to move her. He wants her on top of him, goddamn it! She's the one that tackled him, so she's going to suffer the consequences if that's the way she wants to play it. She's grabbed his hand, trying to stop the bleeding, but her expression doesn't reveal whether she can feel the hard-on that's growing in his jeans beneath her. Then she shifts her hips forward against his body and he stiffens further. Be careful what you wish for, Mulder. Now he's not sure how much more of this he can take, and struggles to suppress the moan that's trying to escape from his lips. There's no way she doesn't feel his erection...
She shifts her hips again, almost grinding into him, before she rests her hands on his chest and pushes off as she sits up. Oh god. Did she do that on purpose? She raises herself up from his body and kneels onto the grass beside him. He watches her eyes flicker towards the bulge in his jeans. It's all he can do not to grab at himself now, he's so turned on. Jesus.
"It looks like a bad scrape, Mulder," she says, switching into Dr. Scully mode as she roots around in his duffel bag. She finds a towel and starts to wrap his hand with it. She pulls a little too hard, shifting his attention from the ache in his groin back to the pain in his hand, and his erection softens.
"Ow, Scully! Watch it!"
"Sorry, Mulder. We have to get your hand cleaned up so it doesn't get infected."
"What do you suggest?" He watches her face carefully. He sees concern in her eyes, but hopes for something more. She HAD to have noticed how hard he was.
"Well, for once I don't think you need the emergency room, Mulder. I can clean this wound myself, but I need my bag, which is at my apartment. I could also really use something hot to drink. I think this lesson is over, Coach." She smiles at him gently as she stands, taking his arm to help him do the same.
By the time they reach the parking lot, she has decided that she will drive them to her apartment. This will minimize the movement of his injured hand until she can bandage it properly. He protests, but it's more for show; he revels in the way she's fussing over him.
She's still all business and Dr. Scully when they arrive at her apartment. He's ordered to sit still at her kitchen table and she quickly grabs her medical bag and start treating his wound. He is an obedient patient for once, and doesn't even complain when she swabs him with the antiseptic, even though it burns like hell. He sits quietly and relishes the touch of her hands and the way her hair looks, tousled and unkempt. Her makeup, usually so perfect, is soft and smudgy.
When she's finished, his hand is bound up neatly and she looks relieved.
"Will I live, Doc?"
"You'll be fine, Mulder. You scraped a lot of skin off but it's not very deep. Just keep it clean."
"You mean -you- scraped a lot of skin off when you slammed me to the ground."
"I was only playing -your- game," she says, firing right back. "Now if you will excuse me, I still need that hot drink. Would you like some tea?"
"Sure, if it's part of the prescription. Do you need any help?" he offers.
"No thank you, Mulder. You always make a mess and that's with two good hands. I'll do it." She smiles and turns away from him to set about making the tea.
"Are you questioning my domestic abilities, Scully?" He remains in his chair and watches her rummage around the kitchen. When she stretches up to reach something in the cabinet above her, he gets that view of her ass he's been waiting for and loses his battle for self-control. He can't just sit here anymore. Fuck waiting.
He comes up behind her and gently slides his arms around her waist. At his touch, she puts down the mugs she's holding and stands very still. She does not turn around. He leans in close and puts his lips against her ear.
"Scully." He feels her shiver at his whisper. He presses his lips against her earlobe and then slowly trails a light, feathery kiss to her jaw line and then to her neck. She lets out a gasp at the touch of his lips on her bare skin and arches her neck to the side. He's hard again and he presses himself against her back. She shivers again and he has no doubt she feels him this time.
He returns his lips to her ear. "Turn around."
She slowly turns in his arms to face him. She's flushed again and he knows it's nothing to do with the cold.
"I'm going to kiss you, Scully."
She says nothing with her voice but everything with her eyes. Her lips part slightly and he leans in and touches them with his own. Their first kiss is gentle, tentative, but as he licks gently at her lips, she opens them and he slips his tongue inside. He savors the taste of her as the kiss deepens and she toys with his lower lip.
He lifts her up and sets her on the edge of the counter, still greedily exploring her mouth. She slides towards him and wraps her legs around him. His hard-on presses against her center. He stops kissing her to breathe and studies her face. Emboldened by the look in her eyes, he rests his unbandaged hand lightly on her breast. She breathes harder and grabs his wrist, guiding his hand under her sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath. She's wearing a sports bra, and he slides his fingers under the elastic band. He feels the smooth skin of her breast and cups it firmly. She closes her eyes. Her skin is hot under his hand. He squeezes her breast and circles her nipple with his thumb.
"Oh god, Mulder." She starts to rock against his hard-on. The ache is delicious and he is losing control. He grabs for the button on her jeans with his bandaged hand but it's awkward and he can't grip it. She stops rocking, moves his hand out of the way, and unbuttons the jeans herself. She lifts her hips and he helps her to slide her jeans and panties off.
He's dizzy with the scent of her and he doesn't need to touch her to know how wet she is. He grabs for his own zipper but none of his fingers seem to be working now and he struggles to yank it open.
"Let me," she says. He does not remember hitting his head when he fell but he must have a concussion. Did he really just hear Scully offer to unzip his pants? But here she is, deftly unbuckling his belt. When her fingers reach his zipper and brush against the straining fabric to draw it down, he shudders. She loosens his pants and lowers them below his hips, watching him with those blue diamond eyes. She slips a finger in the waistband of his boxers and pauses.
"Don't stop, Scully." If this is not a concussion, then she's trying to kill him.
"Wasn't planning on it, Mulder." Before he realizes it, his boxers are down and she's staring at his rigid cock. Those blue diamond eyes of hers are now black as coal. She braces herself on the edge of the counter with both hands and wraps her legs around him again. She pulls him closer and he guides himself to her wet entrance.
He holds on to her hips and slowly thrusts into her. After pausing for a moment to regain the shred of control he has left, he starts to move. Surrounded by her searing heat, his strokes soon become more demanding and urgent. She clings to the counter with one hand and his arm with the other. When she begins to vibrate beneath him, he speeds up so she will come for him. She does, gasping, and her pleasure drives him over the edge at last.
When he can breathe again, he opens his eyes. His head is resting on her shoulder and she's leaning back against the cupboard. The fucking kitchen cupboard. Why the hell didn't he take her to the bedroom? Because she made you so hot you couldn't wait, asshole. He decides that next time will be different, then realizes the implications of that thought. Next Time. With Scully. Jesus.
He straightens up and looks down to see his pants around his ankles and hers on the floor. Unsure of what to say, he raises his eyes to hers in question. Those diamond eyes are blue again and are now shining, too.
"So tell me, Coach," she says, ruffling his hair. "How was I?"
"That's a pretty good assessment of a beginner, Mulder."
"Huh? Scully...but...you...you're not..." He is bewildered and she laughs at his confusion.
"I was talking about my football lesson."
"Jeez, don't do that to me, Scully!"
"Sorry," she says, looking anything but. "Seriously, though, how did I do with the game?"
"You did great, Scully. I was surprised at how well you threw the ball, considering your hands are too small to grip it properly." He lifts her hand to his lips and brushes it with a kiss.
"But," he continues, struggling to step out of his pants, since he has no plans to put them back on any time soon. "I think we need to work on some of your other skills."
She raises an eyebrow but her eyes are still shining. "If you say so. You're the coach, Mulder. So when is my next lesson?"
"How about right now?" He lifts her off the counter and into his arms. "But I've decided that a change of venue is in order," he says, heading in the direction of her bedroom. She gifts him with a smile and he grins back at her.
"You know what they say, Scully--practice makes perfect."
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