Bouquet, The

by banlu

Title: The Bouquet
Author: banlu
Date written: December 10, 2004

Rating: NC-17

Category: V

Spoilers: Roland, Tooms

Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance

Summary: Smutty post-ep for "Roland". Mulder relaxing. ;)

Archive: Ephemeral and Gossamer. Anyone else, please ask.

Comments: Written for the Fandomonium Season of Smut Challenge - Season One.

I believe this is the only story in X-istance that involves smut associated with "Roland". I told Tali when she begged me to take it on, that if ever there was a smutless ep, this was it. But then I read the transcript and found something to hook onto :)

Opening dialogue from the transcript by CarriK

Disclaimer: No matter how hard I wish, they aren't mine, aren't mine, aren't mine...

Thanks: To mims, for beta-ing

Dedication: Tali - the Smut Mistress

Author's notes: All the Season One challenge fics can be found here: onium%20XF%20Fic%20Challenge.htm

Fandomonium Main Page:


The Bouquet
by banlu



     (Mulder and Scully walk down the hallway leading to  
      the wind tunnel control room.)
     MULDER:  How was the wedding?
     SCULLY:  You mean the part where the groom passed out   
              or the dog bit the drummer?
     MULDER:  Did you catch the bouquet?
     SCULLY:  May-be.  (looking at a folder in Mulder's  
              hand)  So is that what you couldn't talk to 
              me about over the phone?


Scully had caught the bouquet.

Mulder had seen it when he put her suitcase in the trunk of her car at the airport. On his drive home, he'd tried to picture how she had caught it. Had she tried for it? Or did the other women conspire to let her catch it? He'd seen that often enough, and thought that was probably the case.

Now that he'd settled on his couch in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, he wondered anew if Scully had tried to catch the bouquet. And he thought of Scully in a wedding dress, how beautiful she would be, with the veil hiding her face, him lifting it...

Whoa, he thought. He was the groom? Did he want to be married to Scully?

Maybe, he realized. If Roland and Tracy could find love, why not he and Scully? That is, if she wanted him.

He sighed and again pictured Scully as a bride. She would be radiant, her smile lighting up the church. Her lips would be soft and warm when he kissed them, and her laughter would carry forever as they ran from the church, dodging the pelting rice. Or maybe it would be birdseed.

At the reception, their first dance would be slow and sultry, her small hand in his, his arm around her back, eyes only for each other. Later his hand would be sliding up her silky leg, the men hooting as he went for her garter, the bachelors jostling for position as he lobbed it high in the air. And then she'd be tossing the bouquet, checking over her shoulder as she aimed for a friend. And then they'd be in the car, cans clattering on the street, as they sped to their wedding night.

Their wedding night.

Would it be their first time? He found that thought very erotic. The idea of waiting until they had exchanged vows before consummating their love appealed to the oldfashioned part of him. And though she was no prude, Mulder knew that Scully had respect for such traditions.

Mulder moved his hand from his stomach to his crotch, feeling himself harden at the thought of making love to Scully.

He imagined her weight in his arms as he swept her across the threshold, the wetness of her mouth as they shared a deep kiss on the way to the king-sized bed. They'd sit on the bed with Scully in his lap, and kiss for a while, giddy with

He would help her out of the gown, hanging it carefully in the closet, putting the veil up high out of the way. He would turn and she'd be standing there, suddenly shy, as he drank her in with his eyes. A strapless push-up bra and floor length half-slip would leave her shoulders and belly bare, and then he, too, would find himself unaccountably shy.

He'd drop his gaze to the floor where he'd see her whitestockinged toes peeking out from under the slip. He'd watch her feet as she walked toward him and then her hands would be tugging open his tie as he slipped off his coat and tossed it onto a chair. She'd undo the cummerbund while he took off the cufflinks, then they would both undo the studs down the front of his shirt.

Mulder was rubbing himself through his pajamas as he fantasized. He was getting hard fast and was a bit surprised that such relatively chaste images could make him react that way. He sat up and pulled his t-shirt over his head, imagining Scully doing it. He stretched out on the couch and ran the palms of his hands from his chest to his belly and back, stopping to rub his nipples, picturing Scully's hands on him. Then, as he imagined caressing her bare shoulders and arms, he ran one hand over his own shoulder and slipped the other under his pajamas and started stroking his cock.

He closed his eyes and pictured himself slipping his hands down her back to the hook of her bra, then looking at her breasts as it fell to the floor. They would be small but perfect, round and firm, nipples hard with her excitement. Her skin would be porcelain, blue veins running down her breasts to her pale pink aureoles. He'd cup her breasts, finding them warm and soft, and she would loll her head back in pleasure as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs.

He'd kiss her throat as his hands fondled her, then he would kiss his way down to a nipple, and suck. She'd make pleasurable sounds, little "mmm's" and "oh's", and run her fingers through his hair. As he moved his mouth to the other breast, he'd work her slip off her hips, sliding his hands down her thighs to the top of her stockings. He'd straighten up and help balance her as she stepped out of the pooled cloth, then step back to look at her.

She'd be so beautiful. White lace bikinis, thigh-high white stockings, her gold cross glittering at her neck. Then she would come to him and kiss him while she undid his pants, her breasts brushing his chest.

Mulder stopped stroking himself long enough to stand and push his pajamas down to his thighs, then gave a strong pull as he imagined Scully's hands on him. She'd slide her hands down his butt, slowly slipping his pants down until his erection was free. She'd squat, still pushing his pants, until she was eye-level with his crotch. She'd take him in her hand and look up at him with an evil grin.

Then she'd lick her lips.

Mulder groaned at that thought. He bent to strip his pj's off over his ankles, then kicked them away as he grabbed his bobbing cock, picturing Scully's mouth opening to take him in. Her mouth would be so hot and wet, her tongue swirling around his tip.

He concentrated one hand on the head, twisting his fist around it as he pictured it in her mouth. He slid the other one along his shaft as he imagined Scully's hand there, stopping just long enough to lick his palms, the wetness enhancing his fantasy for only a moment. He would hold her head as she slid her mouth up and down him, her tongue dancing along him with each nod of her head.

That image was so powerful, it almost made Mulder come. He laid back down on his couch, panting as he tried to control his excitement. Oh God, he thought, he'd never be able to look at Scully's mouth again without seeing her lips stretched around him. He groaned. That image certainly hadn't helped. He thought of the bills he had to pay, his too-short grocery list, even kittens and puppies, until his arousal subsided enough for him to continue. He fondled his balls, then returned one hand to his cock and his mind to his fantasy.

He imagined pulling Scully to her feet, then kissing her deeply before leading her to the bed. She would lie back, legs open, as he pulled off her stockings one at a time. He'd slip her panties down, running his palms along the outsides of her legs, then slide his hands back up until he reached the soft skin of her inner thighs. He would caress her before lightly rubbing his fingers across her clit. She'd jump at his touch and spread her legs wider as he continued stroking her. He'd take one finger and slide it inside her. She'd be slick and hot, and would clench around him as he pulled it out. Then he would slide his finger back in and lower his face to her crotch, pausing to give her his own evil grin, and then his mouth would be on her.

She'd taste wonderful, and he would run his tongue over her while sliding his finger in and out. Her fingers would rake his hair and she'd moan in pleasure as he flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue and slid more fingers into her. Then she would tug his head up, telling him she wanted him, and he'd slide his body up hers, and they'd kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he settled between her legs, his fingers slipping out of her and grabbing his erection, guiding it to her opening.

They would look into each other's eyes and he'd tell her he loved her and she'd say she loved him too, and then he'd push into her, a bit at a time, as she opened to him. He'd start thrusting, slowly at first, then faster as they found their rhythm, her hands running up and down his back.

Mulder stroked his shaft faster and faster as he imagined being inside Scully. He bucked his hips and pulled on his cock, hovering on the edge of orgasm. He pictured Scully moving beneath him, wild-eyed, grunting his name with each thrust, then arching her back and howling his name as she came.

He squeezed, imagining Scully spasming around him, and then his hot semen was spilling over his fist, splashing onto his stomach, flecking his thighs. He bellowed Scully's name again and again until his cock stopped jerking and he lay spent on the couch, chest heaving.

His heart pounded in his ears and sweat ran down his body. His penis lay limp in his hand, but he felt too good to move. He hadn't had an orgasm that intense in a long time. He took a couple of deep breaths to slow his heart, and smiled with sleepy pleasure.

His mind wandered as he drowsed. Mulder remembered how, a month ago, Scully had told him she'd never put herself on the line for anybody but him. He remembered how his chest had tightened, realizing in that moment how much she cared for him. He had made that iced tea crack to hide his hope, probably from himself as much as from her.

He supposed that's why he'd had this marriage fantasy now. He must have subconsciously accepted that Scully could actually love him that way. As Mulder drifted off to sleep, he pictured her in a wedding dress and smiled.


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