(A DP Penance-type tale)
By ML and Char Chaffin
MSR, Strong R, PWP, light and fluffy (and sunny and sandy, LOL) Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: Clones on Loan
Email: firstname.lastname@example.org; email@example.com
Thanks: to Sallie, Carol, Tess and Toniann for once-over and beta, general cheering and much-appreciated friendship!
From Char: So, about a month ago I DP'd on list. ML was 'kind' enough to email me and remind me I needed to write some penance. However, right around the time she emailed me the reminder, she also DP'd in another email - privately, to ME. I told her if she wanted penance she'd have to write it with me, otherwise it wasn't gonna happen... and she thought that was a great idea and offered to start it off. The rest was just plain fun!
ML says: It's all Char's fault, and since I have to take her word for the fact that I DP'd on private messages to her...it's a conspiracy, I tell you! <g> But it was a lot of fun doing this story with Char, and I hope we can do it again some time.
We hope you enjoy what two people can come up with when they're trying to point the 'penance finger' at each other!
Summary: A beach, the sun, some brief swimwear, a locked cabana and our Agents... who could ask for anything more?
Mulder had never been a fan of zinc oxide -- his nose looked big enough without it -- but it beat having a big red blister in the middle of his face.
It also didn't keep the girls in their skimpy bikinis from swarming around his stand like flies to honey. Yes, he'd definitely had worse assignments. He sat like a king on his lifeguard throne and stared impassively out to sea, pretending not to notice the tide of tanned flesh ebbing and flowing around him. He had his own personal "Babewatch" going on right here.
The part he didn't like about this assignment was that Scully manned the next station a short distance down the beach and he could see that her chair was also surrounded. Sadly for Mulder, though, Scully had all the surfer boys caught in her net.
It amazed him that someone so pale could look so good in a bathing suit. Scully was in royal blue, which set off her blazing hair beautifully. And while she wasn't tanned, no one could call her pasty. Her skin glowed like a pearl in the harsh midday sun.
He picked up his walkie-talkie and murmured into it, "What're we doin' here, Scully? It's hotter'n hell."
Scully didn't reply right away, and Mulder unhooked the binoculars from his perch, raising them to his eyes to see what was going on over there. Uh-oh... She was leaning forward from her perch, accepting a cup from one of the surfer guys who worshipped at her feet. He could practically see down the front of her suit even from this distance, and if he could, what a show Surfer Dude was getting.
He tried again. "Uh, Scully?"
"Thanks," Scully said to the young man who'd brought her the iced tea she requested. She had bottled water, but it had gotten warm in the sun. She could hear Mulder saying something faintly over the walkie-talkie, but it was probably more of the same he'd been saying for the past hour or so. Bad jokes, insulting observations about the IQ of the young men milling around her chair, and generally whining about this assignment not being the day at the beach they'd been led to believe it would be.
It was only luck that they were there anyway. They'd wrapped up the case in San Diego, and since they were already on the West Coast, Skinner had tapped them to help the local office with a stakeout. Mulder had eagerly accepted, as usual not consulting her beforehand.
She glanced over at him, and he was once again sitting with his binoculars trained on her instead of sweeping up and down the beach, watching for the people they were supposed to be on the lookout for. She picked up her walkie-talkie and spoke softly into it. "Give it a rest, Mulder," she said. "If I can deal with wearing a bathing suit, so can you."
At least he didn't have to slather himself with SPF 40. Without it, even the milder spring sun would turn her into a lobster in less than an hour. She just didn't tan. Mulder, on the other hand, seemed to be born with golden skin. An hour or two out in the sun, and he looked like a bronze god.
But it was better not to dwell on that, she told herself. They were working right now.
About the fifth time the blonde with the large lungs and hot pink string bikini simpered her way over to her now-toasty brown partner, Scully gave up the pretense of watching the shoreline. They were within an hour of being relieved by the afternoon stakeout team, and she was hot and sticky - and decidedly jealous.
As soon as she thought the word she immediately squashed it. She had nothing to be jealous about; she might not have casaba-sized breasts and clouds of white-blonde hair, but she could hold her own in a swimsuit... even if compared to the average suit on this beach, hers was conservative to the max. Scully looked down at herself with a critical eye. The suit was cut low and straight across the bosom, fashioned high on the leg. It nipped in her waist and the thin straps that tied behind her neck accentuated the slope of her shoulders. The deep royal blue was perfection against her hair and skin.
She looked damned good... and why in hell did she suddenly care, anyhow? Just because a pair of legs topped with breasts and hair was hanging all over Mulder. How stupid was that? How beneath her?
She looked over at his station, unable to help herself.
In the sun Mulder's thick brown hair picked up all kinds of golden highlights; even from here she could see the way it shagged over his forehead, twin commas that brushed the top of his sunglasses. He wore a pair of low-slung red trunks, a thin racing stripe of white and black running up each side. The sun beat down on him, over arms glistening with sweat, tanned skin she knew would be smooth and firm.
She could see the flash of his smile as he grinned down at the underdressed blonde wriggling her hot pink self way too close to his chair.
Shit. Scully made herself look away, forced a smile to her lips and tilted her sunglasses down her nose until she could see the face of the surfer who'd been fetching her water and ice tea. He'd told her his name was Todd; he had a sweet Southern accent and a headful of streaked golden brown hair, a body that wouldn't quit, showcased to perfection in a pair of abbreviated OP trunks... and the most blinding smile she'd ever seen. He was charming and attentive.
He left her absolutely cold. Scully sighed and slipped her shades back over her eyes, shielding them, and glanced at her wristwatch again. Fifty more minutes...
For the fifth time, Mulder gently sent the blonde - whose name, of all things, was Kiwi - away from his station, reminding her that he was on duty and needed to concentrate on watching out for the welfare of sunbathers everywhere, blah, blah...
In truth his reasoning was two-fold. Kiwi was obviously underage; if she was seventeen he'd have been amazed. She was undermining his attention, but not because he had the hots for her. While she giggled and postured all around his chair, her chatter kept him from watching what was going on over at Scully's station. Kept him from plotting how he was going to zip on over there and plow a fist into Surfer-Boy's pretty, chiseled face.
He was so jealous his eyes were floating in green.
Mulder told himself it was insane to be jealous. Just because Scully was smiling down on six-feet-two or so of tanned Beach God, he had no reason to feel this way. They were professionals; on a courtesy stakeout, it was true - but still professionals. So what if the sun shone down on Mr. Beach God's stylishly-streaked locks and the sand clung to his over-muscled body? Scully was above getting caught in that obvious a snare.
<Of course she is, you imbecile>. Mulder took a few moments to chastise himself for his own insecurity. Dana Scully was too intelligent and complex to fall for muscles and gloss with - probably - too few brains beneath.
He had no reason to be jealous. He had no business being jealous.
He was, however... miserably jealous. And about to do something about it. Mulder grabbed his walkie-talkie and flicked it on.
"Hey, Scully, you -"
His unit squawked in his ear. "What now, Mulder? Did you run out of suntan lotion? Can't find your bottle of Gatorade? Misplace your Barbie Doll?" Her voice was gritty and decidedly waspish over the tinny audio of the walkie-talkie.
And suddenly Mulder was grinning, a yard wide. 'Barbie Doll', huh? So she had noticed Kiwi and her... hair. Mulder bit back a crow of triumph, instead schooling his voice into his usual neutral monotone. "Let's blow this popsicle stand, whadaya say? Meet me in the cabana area."
A sigh, then her weary, "Mulder, we can't leave, we're on a stakeout! Besides, why would you want to meet over at those silly cabanas, anyhow?"
His voice thickened enticingly, "Meet me there, and find out." He peeked over at her station, and he could swear that even from a distance he could see her shiver. He felt on top of the frigging world.
Another huff in his ear, this one softer, almost longing. "Mulder... stop it."
He dropped his tone even lower. "Aren't you curious to know why I want you to meet me?"
"I know why, Mulder. I know exactly why. You've been sitting over there, and watching what's been going on over here, and you're feeling a little green-tinged. Aren't you?"
"So what if I have... it's nothing different than what you've been doing, right? Staring over this way. Watching me. Typecasting poor Kiwi..."
He chuckled into the mouthpiece, "The Barbie Doll. Come on... meet me." He was cajoling her and she was weakening, he could tell.
"What about the relief team?" She WAS weakening, and fast.
Milder glanced down the beach toward the parking area, and almost cheered aloud when he saw two familiar figures clomping through the sand and headed in their direction. Looked like the next shift was here.
"They're traipsing along the surf even as we speak. So... you on, Partner? I'll give you a head start."
He glanced over again to catch her staring right at him, her hand shadowing her eyes. She pointed to her chest; then at him, and Mulder realized she was motioning for him to pick up his binoculars. He put them up to his eyes and focused on her face... then gasped aloud when the view through his lenses showed one Dana Scully, tossing him a hell of a come-hither stare - and licking her lips.
He lowered the binoculars and raised the walkie-talkie to his ear, just in time to hear her sultry, sexy voice - and what she said made his mouth water.
"Come and get me, Mulder..."
If Agents Palmer and Troy thought it was strange that Mulder leapt out of his chair, barely taking the time to climb down the little rickety ladder, when there were so many beautiful young beach bunnies all around to keep him from rushing off... they politely refrained from commenting. Mulder made vague mention of having to empty his overfull bladder, and the relief agents simply nodded and watched him stride toward the gaily-patterned cabanas... and damned if he didn't look as if he was following his gorgeous partner, right into the middle of them!
Palmer smirked, "Just partners, huh? Surrreeeee..." Troy nodded his head; if ever there was a pair in total lust with each other, those two were. The partners grinned at each other and prepared to man their stations.
In the midst of red-and-white, orange and green striped cabana tents, Mulder walked silently on bare feet. He whipped off his shades and stuck them on top of his head, eyes squinting in the brightness for movement... royal-blue lycra movement. There were roughly twelve or so cabanas placed in the sand in an irregular stagger of rows. She could be anywhere amongst the canvas cubicles. She could already be inside one of them. Waiting for him to come and get her.
The mere thought of it had Mulder salivating.
Soundlessly, he rounded the edge of one of the larger cabanas - and caught a faint whiff of suntan lotion and residual perfume. Scully's perfume; he'd know it anywhere. He smelled it in his sleep, inhaled it during his dreams. Mulder glanced at the door-flap of the cabana; this one had a small, barely effectual padlock, hanging open with the key still inserted. He had to grin - trust Scully to find a public trysting place that actually locked. His impulsive yet practical and sensible partner...
He was insane about her.
He quietly palmed the lock and key, lifted the flap and slipped inside; it was dim and humid, hot from the day's sun. The smell of Scully's perfume was strongest just behind the center pole. Mulder grinned wider and turned to snap the lock in place; then still facing away from the interior of the cabana, he murmured teasingly, "Gotcha, Baby..."
A warm and slightly sweaty body, half-naked and eager, landed on his back and wound arms and legs around him. He staggered a little under the solid weight of her, and his grin became a chuckle when her breathless retort pulsed against his ear, "No, 'Baby', I've got you. Try and get away, and I'll just have to come after you."
"Well, it's kind of hard to think about getting away, with you all over my back and hanging on like a little monkey."
A bite to his ear, and she was sliding to the floor, making sure she hit several of his sensitive areas before gaining her feet. Mulder stifled a groan and reached around to grab her arm, yanking her in front of him; spinning her around, he backed her up until she was pressed against the center pole. He leaned in and caught her lips in a rough kiss; then growled, "A cabana with a lock on it? What are the odds, hmmm?"
"I'll have you know there are a lot of 'Barbie Dolls' out there today, Mulder. I'd sure hate to have to kill one of them because she saw you walk this way and slip into an unlocked cabana, and assume she could just join you. Think of it as saving a life; after all, we ARE lifeguards."
"What about your Beach God? He could have lost that pretty face of his when I saw him giving your breasts the once-over. If I'd climbed down from my chair and come after him..."
She laughed aloud, "You would have had to push all the bikini bimbos out of the way first." Winding her arms around his neck, pulling his head down far enough to reach his mouth, she kissed him lovingly. Mulder returned it enthusiastically as his fingers got busy untying the thin suit straps tied behind her neck. She'd knotted them; he groaned into her ear as he struggled with it.
"Why in hell did you tie it in a knot? Are you trying to drive me insane?"
"Why of course, Mulder. I live to drive you insane, haven't you figured that out by now?" Scully gave him a quick squeeze; then tugged at his hands until he dropped them. Turning in his arms she presented her back, revealing a short zipper that ran from mid-spine to the curve of her cheeks. She glanced over her shoulder and sent him a smoldering gaze, commanded, "Unzip me, Mr. Lifeguard."
Mulder was only too happy - and eager - to comply. He had the zipper down and the suit peeled from her body in about three seconds flat. He turned her around and reached for her; she held him off with one palm against his chest and trailed the fingers of her other hand over his damp trunks. "Lose the shorts. Now."
He wriggled out of them so fast it was a wonder his works didn't suffer damage. Freed of clothes and inhibitions, sliding down onto the sand-encrusted canvas floor of the cabana, they wrestled for position, until Scully just pushed him flat and clambered atop, sitting up on his thighs. She grinned at him, shaking back her hair.
"I like you in this position, Mulder. I like the view from up here." She squirmed on him and he hissed out a breath, fighting for control. He cupped her breasts in his hands and marveled at their pale gleam against his tanned skin.
Marveling at her, at the playful side of her, the passionate and sexy persona that he was fortunate enough to see... Mulder stared up at the woman he adored. This was Dana Scully in the deep night, when they were alone and secured behind locked doors. The woman who dressed in severe suits during the day and who drove him wild in bed when the clothes came off and they were skin to skin. That she felt secure enough in their relationship to be this open and free with him, meant so much.
Even if there was a flimsy lock on the cabana flap.
He slipped his hands over her back and pulled her down to him, covered her mouth, kissed her deeply, drank her in, the delicious salty taste of her. Her fingers danced over his skin, down between their bodies, until she could curve them around his hard flesh and slide herself over it. They both sighed into the hot and humid air of the stuffy little cabana as she engulfed him.
"So good..." He spoke it aloud.
All of Scully's nerve-endings were on fire. She'd been fighting against her unprofessional desires all morning and now that she was about to give into them, she felt overwhelmed. Mulder's touch was always warm, and his skin generated a radiant heat that could fire her up even in the Antarctic. But now, after spending the morning on the beach, it was like holding the sun in her arms. His skin was just as she'd imagined it while sitting in her lifeguard chair: smooth and silky and firm, with the tang of salt and grit of sand.
She ran her fingers through his hair, adjusting herself to take him in as deeply as she could, reveling in his groan of satisfaction. She moved above him, rocking slowly as he surged up to meet her. His eyes were closed in ecstasy already, his full lips parted as he gasped out low exclamations and encouragement.
Scully closed her eyes too, to better concentrate on the sensations caused by the feel of Mulder deep within her, and his hands on her body, touching, teasing, driving her closer to the edge.
There was a thump and a rattle at the flimsy canvas cabana door. Scully froze in mid-stroke. Oblivious to everything until Scully stopped moving, Mulder opened his eyes and started to ask what was wrong.
The door rattled again. "Hello? Anyone in there?" a female voice called out. "Fox? Are you in there?"
Mulder put his fingers against Scully's lips. She sat astride him, her legs trembling from the effort. She had to move or collapse, and the only thing to do was to slide back down on Mulder as slowly as she could.
Mulder's eyes dilated and he gave out an involuntary gasp as Scully lowered herself. Scully hastily clapped a palm over his mouth, cautioning him. He closed his eyes briefly and grimaced.
"Kiwi," he mouthed into her hand.
Scully started to carefully climb off him, but he dug his fingers into her hips, wanting her to stay right where she was. He could feel her pulsing around him and he willed himself to stay still, to not buck up against her until the wannabe party crasher moved away.
But Kiwi was nothing if not tenacious. They heard fiddling at the door again. The lock wasn't much; if she kept at it, she'd pull the hasp out of the weathered wood it was fastened to.
Another voice chimed in. "What're you up to, Kiwi?"
It was Scully's turn to show a panic face as she recognized Todd's soft Southern drawl.
"Nothing," Kiwi's voice sounded sulky. "What do you care, anyway? You've been spending all your time over at that lady lifeguard's chair."
"Well, you were spending all your time at that guy's chair," Todd retorted. "He's way too old for you, Kiwi."
Scully stifled a giggle at Mulder's expression.
"So's the one you like," Kiwi grumbled. "'Sides, he's gone now. I saw him come over here so I thought maybe I could talk to him now that he's off-duty. He'd hardly say a word to me before. And I don't think he's that old, anyway. He's still hot."
"Too hot for you, Kiwi," Todd was adamant.
"Oh yeah?" Kiwi was not a master of witty repartee, it seemed.
"Yeah." Neither was Todd, evidently.
"Maybe you're just jealous," Kiwi shot back.
"Sure Kiwi, whatever works for you. I thought I'd ask you if you wanted to go get a smoothie with me, but I guess you're not interested." Now Todd sounded bored.
"Hey Todd, wait up!" Kiwi's voice faded as she went after Todd.
Both Mulder and Scully let out their held breaths. Scully collapsed on Mulder's chest, stifling her giggles against his skin.
"Thrown over for a smoothie," she chuckled when she could speak again.
"No worse than being thrown over for a girl named after a fruit," Mulder countered. Scully's giggling had sent ripples all through her body, and by extension, his. He didn't think he could get any harder, but it seemed he... could.
"What were her parents thinking?" Scully wondered. "Her name brings to mind something brown and hairy, not a blonde bombshell."
"Could be the point." Mulder was finding talk increasingly difficult with Scully wiggling on top of him. "I don't wanna debate her name right now. I got better things to do."
Scully propped her arms against his chest. "And what might that be?" she queried breathlessly.
"I'd rather show you then tell you, Scully." Mulder tightened his grip on her waist and thrust up into her.
"Oh, God, Mulder..."
In the overheated little cabana the sounds of loving they made between them drowned out the rushing Pacific surf ebbing in the distance and the happy shriek of children playing in the sand. It rode above the laughing murmur of adults and the giggles of scantilyclad teenagers. They were surrounded by humanity yet as isolated as if they'd found themselves on a remote desert island.
So... so... good.
Scully stood under the lukewarm shower spray, rinsing suds from her hair, for the third time. She could still feel sand on her scalp. Eyes closed and water running down over her face, she smiled as she recalled the cause of all that sand... when in her frenzy to have more of her lover - closer, harder - she tugged at him until he'd covered her. She'd ended up coated in sand, now finding it in all sorts of interesting places on and in her body.
But oh, it had been worth it. Her grin widened as she poured shampoo on her head for Wash Number Four.
"Scully! What's taking you so long?" Mulder's voice boomed out from outside the bathroom door, pushing it open and stepping in. Behind the translucent shower curtain her body was a slim curve of pale peach as she vigorously scrubbed at her hair. Mulder reached up and scratched at his own, feeling grit and encrusted salt. He tugged at the curtain, declaring, "I'm coming in. I can't wait any longer; feels like I have crabs crawling all over me."
She obligingly made room for him and leaned up against the far wall, letting him have the full blast of spray. While he worked shampoo through his hair, Scully soaped both hands and ran them over his back and around to his chest, enjoying the slick feel of those tight muscles under her palms.
Mulder hummed in pleasure at the press of her hands. "That feels incredible. Why don't we take showers together more often, baby?"
She drew patterns on his shoulders with bath suds as she considered his query. "Well, usually I'm up before you, and while you're snoring into the pillow I'm already through my yoga routine and in the shower. You could always get up when I do, Mulder, and join me."
He glanced back at her smiling face and deliberately shimmied his backside into the slippery curve of her body. "What, for a spot of early AM bathtub frolic? Sure, Scully... anytime." He maneuvered his hands behind him and sought out her tenderness, loving the way she sighed when his fingers found exactly the perfect place to stroke.
"I meant yoga, Mulder. You need to stretch in the morning, before you engage in... other exertions." Her breath was locking up inside her lungs at his increasingly passionate caresses.
Mulder released her long enough to spin around and catch her up against his wet, hard body. He backed her into the far wall, leaving the water running, uncaring if it went cold on them. He was suddenly overheated, all over again... and it was as hot as the cabana, as steamy and as deliciously erotic... without the sand, of course.
"I'll show you exertions, Scully..."
Final note: Here comes summer! Make sure you get out on a beach somewhere and enjoy the sand and the sun and the heat... even if there isn't a scantily-clad Mulderish-kinda lifeguard in your immediate vicinity!
Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to ML and Char Chaffin
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