Eromantica by Basbleu

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

Summary: Sensual massage and sex on a full stomach in an idyllic cottage in front of a fireplace.

Disclaimer: Walter Skinner is (unfortunately) not mine and neither, for that matter, are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully�they are all the creations and thus sole property of the beneficent Chris Carter, the merciful Ten Thirteen Productions, the eleemosynary Rupert Murdoch and the generous Fox Network, who all (hopefully) won't sue me for having some fun with them for the express purpose of delighting my fellow (wo)men.

Cait McHale (who is my creation and thus Copyright Basbleu) was first introduced in a non-erotica story named Sins and is prominently featured in MacGuffin, Fear, and Dana Scores.

Eromantica by Basbleu

The quiet knock was the last thing he expected. By eight at night, the Hoover Building was usually deserted. A.D. Skinner wouldn't even have been there, had he not spent the whole day in front of a Senate committee, explaining away the mass suicide of the Ephesian cult. It had been a grueling day, maintaining his temper while having each of his decisions and judgements questioned and requisitioned, his record shredded by a stone-faced panel of bureaucrats more interested in their own agendas than the loss of innocent life. He'd finally been dismissed with little more than approving nods from the Director and the Attorney General whose turns would come next. Finally, back in his office, he'd started to catch up on work that had piled up all week as he focused on preparing for the inquiry.

He'd been reviewing cases for three hours before the knock at his door.

"Come in." he said, gruffly, and aimed his customary A.D. glare at the door, a glare that quickly changed to a look of relief as Cait walked in.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked, laying his Mont Blanc down and sitting back in his chair.

"I could ask you the same question." She said, settling a hip against the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the report. "Mulder and Scully's latest?" She asked as the words exsanguination of sacrificial virgins caught her eye.

"Either that or the latest Clive Barker novel--it's getting to where I can't tell the difference." He grumbled.

"That's because it's unnatural to work this late. After 7:30, the mind starts having problems differentiating between fantasy and reality. That's when normal people know it's time to go home." She stepped around the back of his chair, laying her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm backed up." He gestured to the piles on his desk.

"Ever hear of diminishing returns?" She shook her head. "You've spent the past week agonizing over this cult thing, barely eating or sleeping. Your part is done and it's time you take a night off before you do something drastic...like pull out all the remaining hair on your beautiful head." She leaned over him and he felt her lips graze the bare skin on top of his head. "Not that I'd mind." She murmured, making him smile. Her fingers lightly kneaded his shoulders and he closed his eyes, feeling the momentary relief in the tense muscles.

Disturbing images of bodies entwined together, blood dripping from mouths, made him snap his eyes open again and he looked up into Cait's troubled frown.

"Ephesian killed those children, not you, Walter." Cait told him.

"I could have stopped him."

"You did everything you could, with the time and resources you had. You have to believe that." She spoke slowly.

She was right; he knew she was right. He'd heard those same words coming from his own lips, to an agent who had botched a hostage negotiation. This was the first time anyone had ever said them to him. The earnestness in Cait's voice made him want to believe it.

He smiled at her. "Someday, you'll make a great A.D."

She shook her head, smiling back, "You'll make an even better Director." Another squeeze to his shoulders. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Home, surprisingly, was Cait's idyllic cottage on the outskirts of the city. Within minutes of entering the little house, he'd been stripped of coat and tie before being banished barefoot to the back porch, armed with a glass of red wine and under the watchful eyes of Toby, Cait's Rottweiler/Great Dane mix whose size belied one of the sweetest dispositions bestowed on man's best friend. Cait changed into a loose pair of khakis and an oversized, worn gray t-shirt, proclaiming the acronym of her alma mater, and started making a lot of noise in the kitchen.

Cait's self-titled Alpha Male Meal--one of the few things she could cook--of a thick slab of medium rare steak, roasted potatoes, boiled carrots and onions and soft home-baked bread was consumed on the back porch in a comfortable, companionable silence and washed down with more red wine. After the meal, he was ordered not to help clean up under threat of injury to his person so he stayed out on the porch, listening to the calming nuances of Chet Baker playing on the stereo indoors.

He stood on the back porch, one arm braced against a supporting strut, his other hand absently scratching the head of the large dog at his side, as he looked out into the darkness. She came up behind him, molding her body to his back, as she slid her arms around his middle. Her warm breath fanned his neck, the subtle, sweet scent of her perfume enveloped him. They stood together, calmly, her hands idly stroking the hard stomach beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. He could feel her heart pounding away the seconds against his shoulder blade.

Toby retired to his favorite spot in front of the door.

"Feeling any better?" She asked.

He nodded, "How could I not--after that meal?"

"There's something else I could do, to make it even better." Her fingers toyed casually with the buttons on his shirt.

Drawing his own conclusions, he debated against how to respond to what he perceived as a proposition then realized that honesty would work best with Cait, as it always did.

"I don't think I'm quite up for that.'" He unintentionally punned.

He felt her lips curve up against his shoulder. "Not that." She protested. "I promise I won't take advantage of your weakened state."

Curious as to what she had planned, he let her take his hand and lead him into the cozy living room where a pillow and quilt he recognized from the bedroom made a pallet on the rug in front of the fireplace.

She turned him to face her, pulling his shirt from his trousers, and unbuttoning it. She eased it from his shoulders, off his wrists, her fingers lingering on biceps that flexed unconsciously beneath her touch.

"Lie down on your stomach." She gestured towards the quilt and he complied, finally aware of what came next.

She straddled his hips, distributing her weight in such a way as to not cause him discomfort. Her fingers made strong by hours at a piano settled on his shoulders and slowly began stroking and kneading the tension out of sore, bunched muscles. Her thumbs traveled over his back, his shoulders, the base of his skull, easing him into submission, circling away the week of stress and pain.

Forty minutes later, she leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Turn over."

"Uh-unh." He protested, content to stay in his current warm state of limbo.

"Turn over, or else." Her fingers lightly skimmed over his sides, making him jerk awake, sending her a little off-balance. He complied, finally lying on his back, as she settled herself intimately against his pelvis and looked down at him.

"Close your eyes." She said and he did, feeling her thumb pads against the center of his forehead, making little circles in rows from just above his eyebrows to the top of his forehead. From there her fingers stroked the area between his eyes, easing out the deep furrows caused by hours of scowling. His temples were next, then behind his ears, working down his jaw to the back and sides of his neck.

He actually whimpered as the tension left his body and he turned into what felt like a limp noodle. He could sense her smile and he opened his eyes.

He reached up, catching one of her hands in his, and brought it to his mouth. Tenderly, he kissed her knuckles, one at a time, uncurling her fingers until her open palm pressed up against his lips.

"Careful," She said, a huskiness in her voice. "You might make me forget my promise not to ravage you."

"What if I've changed my mind?" He asked, enjoying seeing her pupils dilate.

In response, she moved her hips against him and he moaned, feeling the light pulsing of her sex against his growing stiffness.

"Hmmm...feels like you are up to it now." She mused.

Bracing her hands on either side of his head, she leaned forward, pressing herself against him. Her teeth nipped lightly at his lower lip before her lips caught it, sucked lightly. "But we can't have you overextending yourself. I mean, not after all I've done to get you relaxed."

"What did you have in mind?" His hands rested on her legs clamped around his hips, fingers lightly stroking the backs of her thighs.

"All manner of evil things that'll have you screaming for more." She promised sensually, evading his questing lips as she ducked her head to let her lips skim over his breastbone, her tongue stopping to lick the indentation at the base of his throat. Her hips rotated leisurely against him.

"God, Cait." He moaned. His fingers clenched into her thighs.

Her lips curved on his skin as they moved further down, grazing his pectorals, rubbing her cheek against the springy mat of dark chest hair, teeth scraping the flat male nipples before wrapping her lips around them, suckling.

A breath of air hissed out between his teeth and he moved his hands over her hips, under her shirt to caress the supple back that bent towards him. She raised her head, her torso, and slipped her own hands under the shirt, pulling it up and over her head. Her naked skin glowed pale in the firelight, her small round breasts crowned with erect nipples that beckoned to him.

He sat up. She leaned back into a hand that braced her as he bent his head, nuzzling her breasts as he mimicked her earlier movements, teeth and lips assaulting the defenseless peaks. She whimpered over the lump in the back of her throat, raising a hand to clasp the back of his sweat-slicked head, pushing down and he sucked harder, the small bite of his teeth sending shocks of pleasure-pain through her. She could feel the liquid warmth sliding down into her sex, felt the walls contract, release languidly. She rubbed herself against the bulge straining behind his trousers, sending little shocks of pure, unadulterated pleasure trembling through his body.

"I want you." He raised his head, his own eyes dark and dilated.

"I know." She responded, pushing him back down.

He jerked as her lips grazed his stomach, moved lower into the trail of dark, curling hair that disappeared into the waistband of his pants. He watched her dark head move down, lower, felt her fingers tugging then a release. He raised his hips as she moved backwards, allowing her to pull off the rest of his clothes. He watched her stand before him, working at the closures of her own clothes, and finally rid herself slowly of them.

He reached for her but she stayed just out of reach as she knelt down and pulled his thighs apart., sliding her shoulders under them.

"Cait, you don't ..."

Her fingers clamped around his wrists as his hands reached for her, forcing them down to his sides.

"Walter, I want." He heard her say.

With the help of the pillow under his head, he could see her smile as she contemplated his enormous erection, standing up perpendicular to his body from its nest of curls. Her tongue flicked out, licked her own lips, and he groaned, feeling his balls tighten . Her almond shaped eyes narrowed, making her look even more like the proverbial cat thinking about eating the canary.

He felt like the proverbial canary.

She ducked her head and he felt rather than saw the tip of her tongue as it drew itself from the base of his penis slowly, excruciatingly, to the top. His hands flexed in hers, trying to draw away, but she held on. She dipped her head again, lips softly brushed against the sac between his legs. She inhaled the slightly sour, musky scent of his balls, tasted him again, her lips nibbling up his length, taking her time as he writhed in ecstasy.

She tongued off a drop of milky liquid that seeped out, wetting the tip of his cock, humming in approval of the taste as she swallowed. She pursed up her lips and blew lightly on the throbbing head, making him whimper. She flicked her tongue out, licking the tiny hole, around the rim, gently under the edge, down the sides.

He ached to have her mouth on him, fought to free his hands from their restraints and clamp down on the back of her head, pushing her down and around him. And not being able to do that made him want her even more.

As if knowing how far gone he was, her mouth opened, her soft, wet lips slid over him, around him, taking him deep into her mouth, pressing against the back of her throat, still not managing to get all of him in. She took her time, dragging her mouth up and down, delighting in the feel of him in her mouth, the paradox of the hard, long heat wrapped in soft, smooth skin.

He squirmed under her, reeling from the double assault of watching her do this to him as well as feeling her do it. His hands jerked again as her pace on him quickened, the muscles in his arms bulged out, his labored breathing the only sound besides Cait's quiet humming.

"Cait, ...you...have to...sss...oh god..." His head whipped back and forth against the pillow as he fought for control. The grip of her hands on his wrists slackened as she moved to cup his ass, lifting him even higher into her mouth, her nails digging in.

Blindly he reached down, his fingers gripped her hair and he pulled, dragging her up over his body despite her murmurs of protest.

"Not like that, Cait." He rasped out as he pressed her head down to his, his lips engulfing hers. He tasted himself on her as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Their bodies moved unbidden. Her hands gripped his shaft as his fingers slid under her, opening her as she maneuvered him to penetrate her. She gasped as she felt him spreading her inner walls and she clenched muscles around him in a soft, silken fist, making him moan her name loudly, imploring her to fuck him.

Her clit rubbed against him as she moved urgently, riding him hard, her hands braced in his as he raised his hips to match hers. His name rang loudly from her lips as the tension built, spreading throughout her body, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. She came first, and he followed and their cries of pleasure mingled as they felt each other's overpowering release. Waves of heat and pleasure swallowed the two bodies joined together, sending them shuddering in each other's arms.

It seemed like an eternity before her body collapsed onto his, before his arms wrapped tightly around her, neither moving, heedless of the slickness at their joining.

Conscious thought returned, though hazy. Though exhausted, he managed to reach over and pull the edge of the quilt around them. She lay on his chest, eyes closed, allowing her breathing to return to normal as he held her.

THE END