Title: Oozings of a Cigarette-Smoking Man Author: Scifinerdgrl
Spoilers: Per Manum, Existence
Keywords: Scully/Other sex (CSM)
Summary: Scully's desperation to get pregnant leads her to do something she never thought she'd do.
She smelled him before she saw him. The acrid aroma of spent Morleys that greeted her at her front door could mean only one thing. She wanted to turn around and run, but as repulsive as the man was, he always had answers. And she needed answers.
For a moment she thought he might not be there. His smell had often lingered in Skinner's office, usually when Skinner was pulling her and Mulder off their
latest investigation. But their current cases were innocuous: undocumented ghost sightings in Pennsylvania, a double-exposure photograph presented
as proof of a fourth dimension, and an idiot savant whose talents were not at all unusual, for an idiot savant anyway. She shut her front door then followed
"Hello?" she called out. "Anybody there?"
For an answer, she saw the flicker of a butane lighter illuminating a face she'd learned to revile. He lit a cigarette, then let the lighter go out, leaving only the red glow of his cigarette to help her locate him in the shadows. It brightened as he inhaled and dimmed as he exhaled.
"Do you mind not smoking in my apartment?" she snapped as she switched on the light.
The gray-skinned man stubbed out his cigarette in the soil of a nearby potted plant. "As you wish," he said with an unctuous tone that made Scully's stomach turn.
"What do you want?" she demanded. "Whatever it is, you can forget it."
"You haven't heard it." He moved with smooth assurance, crossing the room until he was only a few feet away from her. "I think I can help you."
"Why would you help me?" she snorted. But despite herself, she was intrigued. He sometimes did help her and Mulder. She never knew why. No doubt his
own hidden agenda was the true beneficiary. But they needed all the help they could get, and she knew she had to hear his offer if only for Mulder's
sake. She started pulling off her coat, hiding her face as she did. If he knew how eager she was for answers, he might drive a hard bargain.
The man moved to her side, then helped her remove her coat. With gentlemanly bravura, he hung it up in its customary place. How did he know where she hung her coat? She started to regret letting things get this far, then she squeezed her arm against the gun in her holster for reassurance.
"I consider myself a humanitarian. My entire life has been dedicated to ensuring the future for our children," he said. "A noble cause, no?"
"How does kidnaping little girls fit into that scenario?" Scully spat out.
The man clucked his tongue. "Everything I and my colleagues have done has been for the greater good. True, there have been sacrifices along the way..." He put a hand on her shoulder, then let it slip to the small, sensitive area between her shoulder blades. "Come, sit down."
Straightening her spine to pull away from his hand, she headed in the direction he was urging her. She sat on the sofa, taking the end nearer to the front door, her mind on the gun still holstered under her jacket. His little speech did indeed intrigue her, and she hated herself for feeling that way. He took the other end of the sofa then smiled, an oddly-shaped curl rising at corners of his mouth.
Smiling didn't seem to be natural for him. The result was even less natural than the phony smile of a used-car salesman. But his eyes had softened, as if
he hoped the smile would be comforting to her. Part of her wanted to smile back for his sake. Another part wanted to reach out and slap him. She put on her best poker face, then said, "Okay. I'm listening."
"I have received some intelligence about something of concern to you." His smile widened, giving her a peek at his tobacco-stained teeth. "It's about your recent trip to the doctor."
She gasped. Her fertility treatment! The ova that Mulder had rescued for her. And Mulder's sperm... "That's confidential!"
"Of course it is. That's why I am approaching you here, like this." He slid one hand over the top of the sofa, until it was almost to her shoulder.
She sat stock-still, defiantly letting his hand approach, neither meeting it nor sliding away in fear. "Why is it any concern of yours?"
His eyebrows hitched up just a notch then immediately fell back in place. He took encouragement from that? she wondered. She continued staring at him,
resolutely refusing to react as he slid a few inches in her direction.
"Call it silly, but I want to help you," he confessed. "It won't work, what you've tried. At first it will seem to work, but then..." His face fell in sympathy for the future scenario he was outlining. "You'll be heartbroken."
Scully snorted inwardly, thinking how many times she'd already been heartbroken. "I'll survive," she said. "I was getting along just fine before, you know."
"So brave," he sighed. His hand crossed that final divide, reaching out to stroke her hair. "But why give up? I'm offering you another chance."
His hand on her hair made her cringe. "What kind of chance?" She hoped this conversation wasn't going where it looked like it was going. Not because she
would find it repulsive, but because she might be tempted.
He moved to close the gap between them by another few inches. "Your ova have been altered, as you might have suspected."
She nodded, but she hadn't suspected it at all. She couldn't help it, but her eyes were starting to tear. Not now, she ordered whatever part of herself was
weakening. Don't cry in front of him! But that part seemed not to hear her. One tear escaped, running down the cheek where he would be sure to see
He wiped away the tear for her, but made no other sign that he recognized her distress. "They are intact, as far as that goes, but they're not quite what they were when they were taken from you."
"Go on," she said, her voice now starting to turn husky.
He looked down, noticing her hands as they kneaded each other in her lap. He slid closer to her and placed his free hand over hers. "They are fertile,
but they can only be fertilized by a method that was created to prevent accidental..."
Her eyes now crinkled in skeptical curiosity. "This is starting to sound..."
"Very strange, I admit," he said softly. "But the intelligence I've found is above suspicion. It's true, Dana. Before being stored, your ova were
altered to prevent fertilization by either human or alien DNA."
"But you said they're fertile?" she said, trying to pull her hands free.
"Yes, but only the right DNA can fertilize them. DNA that has been altered in the same, matching way." He tilted his head in a puppyish way. "You need the
right donor. A donor with compatible DNA, DNA that could never occur naturally."
"What?" she gasped. She was now starting to realize why he'd made this visit. His face suddenly seemed far too close, making her pull back in horror.
"How much do you want a baby?" he whispered, moving toward her until his lips were mere inches from her ear.
Oh my god, she thought. He wants to... She struggled to move away from his foul-smelling breath, but he grabbed her by both shoulders and forced her to face him. "Nine months from tonight, when you see your baby's face for the first time, you'll forget all about this," he promised. And before she could answer, he'd planted his lips on hers.
A baby? HIS baby? She pulled away and would have slapped him if he hadn't held her so firmly. "I need proof!"
"I offer no proof," he smiled. "Other than my word. And I very rarely offer my word."
She had to admit, he was the type to avoid making promises or offering his word. "And you've been... um... adjusted?"
"I did it for you," he said. "I knew how much it would mean to you."
His eyes were beginning to glaze over with lust, or maybe it was love. At least it might be a sign that there was some truth in what he said. But which truth? The truth that he could impregnate her? Or something else? "And what do you want in return?"
"Just this," he whispered. He took something from his pocket, squirted it in his mouth, then planted his lips on hers again. As she inhaled his now-minty
breath, she felt a softness in his lips that bespoke genuine affection. He could be telling the truth, she realized. His motive could be genuine, as repulsive as it was.
As she struggled to determine her course of action, he took her lack of resistance as a sign to continue. Without trying to probe her mouth, he explored what he could, sensuously tasting and caressing her lips with
his. Now satisfied that she wouldn't fight him, he moved his hand upward until it cupped the back of her head, then he tangled his fingers in her hair.
Oh... my.... god.... Scully thought. I'm kissing the smoking man! I'm kissing the most dangerous man in the country, maybe even on the planet! The thought caused an excited gush to issue from between her legs. It was her body telling her in wave after wave what she wanted more than love, even more than a baby. As it had always been, it was danger that awakened her desire. She'd first experienced it while sleeping with her very married professor. Then there was that liquid heat she'd experienced with the creepy writer
who lived next door. And that overwhelming lust she'd felt with the tattooed man she'd picked up on her vacation. And now, here in her own home, where she
should have felt safe, was this dangerous man with his dangerous lips, kissing her and wanting her and offering something in return. She should be fighting
him, even shooting him. The Bureau would understand.
But she did what she never imagined she could. She kissed him back.
She could feel his smile when she did it. Some small part of her wanted to retch, to wipe that smug smile off his face. But her lips did the job, pulling his lips into her mouth, taking control. He let her do it, then he let her tongue push his lips apart to penetrate him before he had the chance to do the same to her. Throwing one leg over his, she straddled him, pressing him into the sofa cushions. She wanted to own him, to possess him, to bring him to his knees. To have such power over such a powerful man was more
intoxicating than she could ever dream. She made the next move before he had a chance to react, reaching up to his neck to loosen his tie. If we're going to do this, she thought, we're going to do it on my terms.
He let her take charge, and when she pulled away from their kiss, his lipstick-stained lips obediently stayed where she'd left them. His eyes, moist with desire, watched her eyes in awe as she undid first his tie then each of the pearlized buttons of his designer shirt. But she didn't return the favor until she'd freed him of his shirt and jacket, and when she looked into his eyes for the first time, he smiled back, a nervous smile that betrayed a twinge of fear. She loved his fear. It wasn't the visceral fear of a man facing death. It was the much more vulnerable fear of a man embarrassed by his ageing, wrinkled, body, a man whose desire had placed him in even graver danger than hers. She could make him happy or make him cry. His fate was in her hands.
Giddy at the realization that she was the master of such deeply held emotions, she stood up, then reached out her hand for his. He obeyed, resting his hand
passively hand in her outstretched one, letting her take the next step. She pulled him to a standing position, then led him to the bedroom as he followed
like a puppy on a leash.
In the bedroom she heard tiny voices at the back of her mind. Mulder's voice. Skinner's voice. Her mother's voice. They tried to tell her this was
wrong. But when she reached into his boxers all the voices were drowned out by his helpless gasp. She nearly gasped herself at what she found, and she
briefly wondered if this was part of his 'adjustment.' But in the end it didn't matter. It was a glorious one, and attached to the world's most dangerous man, whom she had now reduced to jelly except for these nine inches, it was there to be admired and dominated, but not to be questioned. She kissed her way down the man's chest, taking note of the little jumps she felt in her hand as she found his sensitive places. She would have to remember those places on the way back up. But first... She took him into her mouth slowly, starting out by circling the head with her tongue, then dipping lower and lower until she'd deep-throated him. This wasn't about fertility. It wasn't about DNA. It wasn't even about love. It was about power, and she gloried in the power she now had as she sucked and kneaded his most sensitive areas until she feared she was about to go too far. She stopped, and he gave
an involuntary groan. But she didn't go back. She had other plans for this machinery.
She kissed her way back up, remembering all the places that gave her the power she craved, then pulled away just before touching his lips. His puppy-dog eyes looked on desperately as she stepped back then started doing a slow strip-tease for him. His breaths came in labored gasps as he watched her, the streetlight next to the open window casting an orangeish glow on her red hair and giving each breast an angelic halo. With excruciating slowness, she took off one piece at a time, including the shoulder holster that she lay
carefully on the dresser. Finally, she stood before him, her naked body quivering with the anticipation of what they were about to do. She considered turning back now, using a woman's ultimate power, the power of rejection, but her body urged her on.
He looked a little silly, standing there naked, his pasty-skinned body waiting for his goddess to make her next move on it, and she made him wait until he looked downright pitiful.
That's it! some part of her mind said. Beg for it! As if hearing her, he took a step toward the bed and held out his hand. But she ignored it. Instead, she walked toward him until her body pressed against his, forcing him backward until he fell onto the bed. Her nipples screamed at the loss of contact, and she responded by crawling onto the bed, getting up on all fours to let her breasts scrape gently against his skin, tickling herself with his chest hairs. She watched his face as she pleasured herself this way, her loins gushing in waves as each nipple send electricity down her spine. He lay there passively, letting her watch his face contort from the actions did to him but not signaling any requests.
Finally, she decided he was enjoying this too much. It was time for a new game. She pushed herself back up then lowered just her hips until her ruby curls just touched his unearthly erection. He couldn't help groaning at the sensation, giving her yet another victory as she teased him with her soft hairs. At odd intervals, she let him feel her hot, moist readiness as she slid up and down his twitching shaft.
Ready to give in to her own primal instinct, the only power that could defeat her, she slid over him one last time, then came to rest just over the bulging
"Beg for it," she commanded.
With a groan, he lurched upward, but she pulled up in response, keeping herself a teasingly close distance from his eagerness.
"Say it. I want to hear you beg for it."
"Please!" he croaked. "Please let me in."
"Not good enough," she said, pulling herself up until she could no longer feel his heat. Even though her body was screaming to give in to his pleas, she knew that she'd only begun to tap into his desperation, and without it she might not be able to continue. "You have to beg!"
"Please!" he repeated. "I need you. I want you! I'm begging you... Please... Ohhhhhh"
His voice choked off as she rewarded his neediness. She guided herself lower and lower, but slowly, as if to remind him that he hadn't been sufficiently
submissive. Then, when she'd engulfed him fully, she ordered, "Don't move. If you move, all bets are off."
"Okay," he agreed, but his answer was not quite to her standard.
"Keep begging. And talk dirty when you beg," she commanded. "Or else I'll stop!" As if to give him a taste of what he would be risking, she slid herself up his length until only the tip remained inside her.
"Please! Fuck me!" he gasped. "Ride me!"
She rewarded him with a few strokes. "What did you say?" she asked. "I can't hear you!"
He smiled. "Sir, yes SIR." Checking her reaction, he could see that she was pleased with his response. "Fuck me, sir! Fuck me, Fuck me, Fuck me!"
Her body responded to his pleas, each of them escalating their love-making until she found herself pounding him with every ounce of her petite frame.
Blood rushing through her veins pounded in her ears, nearly drowning out her lover's pleas. "Scream it!" she ordered. "Scream that you want it!"
Obediently, he screamed out, "Do me, fuck me! Fuck me silly!" Though he hadn't been given permission, he reached for her nipples and began twisting them like tiny power switches. And in a sense, they were. The added sensation sent waves of electric ecstasy to her core, bringing her to an abyss of bliss she'd never felt with any other man. As if from a distance, she could hear her own voice crying out, yellinng "Yes, yes, yes... Oh my god... YESSS!!!!!" as wave upon wave of a mind-shattering orgasm wracked her body.
After what seemed like an eternity, she opened her eyes to see the smoking man grinning broadly. Oh god, what have I done? she thought suddenly. She could
feel the evidence of his pleasure oozing from inside her. He'd come, she realized. He'd come and she didn't even notice!
He grabbed her by the waist and took charge for the first time, flipping her onto her back while holding her firmly against him. Then he withdrew slowly, as his once-impressive member now shrunk to more human proportions. When he was out, he lifted her hips and held them almost a foot off the bed.
She looked at him, her brow crinkled in confusion.
"Remember what this is about," he explained. "We don't want any of that special DNA to escape."
She let him hold her like that for a moment, neither of them speaking, until her post-orgasmic twitching finally subsided.
And then the spell was broken. "Get out!" she ordered.
"But..." he started to protest.
She wanted no part of his argument. He'd fooled her once. She wouldn't be fooled again. Now that he was powerless, whatever desire she felt before had
evaporated. She was suddenly nauseous, and he saw it on her face. "Get out NOW!" she ordered.
"I understand," he said, trying his best to hide his disappointment. "I'll be on my way, and I won't bother you again."
"You'd better not!" she spat out.
After he left, she stood at her bedroom window, shivering against her terrycloth robe though the room wasn't cold. On the street below she could see a red glow alternately brightening and ebbing, a tiny piece of Hell piercing the smoky shadows of this Earth and inviting her to descend into its depths again.
She turned away from the window, fingering the cross hanging at her neck, but she knew it was hopeless. She'd been to Hell and back, pride and lust having
taken her where she knew she shouldn't have gone. And now that she'd tasted what Hell had to offer, she doubted she'd find Heaven as interesting.
Nine months later, she listened as Mulder talked about the truth "they both knew" and wondered what he meant.
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