I Spy by Red Valerian

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

Disclaimer - Oh God I wish they were mine (especially Skinner) but they're not. We all know who they belong to and we all hope that he won't sue. Especially me.

Summary - Mix together Scully, Skinner and an elevator and before you can say UST a whole lot of sexual tensions get resolved pretty graphically.

Rating - NC 17, Category - Vignette, Spoilers - Avatar(ish), Archive wherever appropriate
Keywords - Scully/Skinner. A stuck elevator. Need I say more?

WARNING: OK. This is the bit where I'm taking the advice of my beta reader (Thank you Dawson!) and warning my audience that some might find this offensive in the extreme. Sorry, but in my universe, Scully has fantasies about being dominated by Skinner, and her fantasies are realised in fairly graphic detail. I don't happen to feel that Scully's submissive fantasies in any way conflict with the strong independent character we know her to be in 'reality', but many may disagree. I would answer that 'fantasies' are just that, and that by their very nature they offer a release from the constant pressures of ordinary life. In Scully's case, her fantasies allow her to abdicate control for blessed moments, so that for once, someone else can make the decisions. In this case Skinner.

Now if you're screaming out loud "No - she would never do that!!!!!!" then you are just going to hate this story - so please don't read it and save us all a lot of unpleasantness.

Oh - one final warning. I also prefer to use the occasional one-syllable Anglo-Saxon term for certain bodily parts and certain sexual practices. I have been made aware that the 'c' word in particular is problematic for many readers of the newsgroup. In answer to that objection, all I can say is that alternative terms are hard to find (how many times can you use 'molten core' or 'throbbing centre' for goodness sake?) And anyway, I prefer the forthrightness of one syllable terminology. It seems more honest somehow.

Oops - just thought of a final warning - there's no AIDS in my universe, so don't lecture me on the dangers of anal sex please. Well - you can't say that you haven't been well and truly warned.

I Spy by Red Valerian

This is dedicated to Lyrica
Whose Skinner/Scully masterpiece 'Sharp Focus' showed me the light!

"Well Sir? Are you going to play with me or not?" Dana Scully's expression and tone were very matter of fact. They suggested that only a fool would dare to argue with her. And although Assistant Director Walter Skinner may have been many things, he was *not* a fool. He was, however, teetering on the brink of losing control and doing his best to hide that fact.

"Agent Scully," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I just told you that I have no intention of playing any games with you. Not now. Not ever. Is that quite clear?"

The words were typical Skinner. He put a statement in the form of a question for politeness sake, but the answer was understood. He had no doubt that Agent Scully would make a few apologetic noises and then leave him to brood in peace. That was standard operating procedure. Everybody in the FBI knew that, from the lowliest janitor to the Director himself. And that is exactly what Scully *would* have done in normal circumstances. But these circumstances were far from normal, and that made everything different.

AD Skinner and Special Agent Scully were trapped in a jammed elevator in the J. Egdar Hoover building, and they were unlikely to be rescued for many many hours. There had been a city-wide power failure and the emergency services were having trouble coping. The two agents had been contacted via the emergency speaker-phone soon after the elevator had ground to an emphatic halt, but once rescue staff had been assured that neither of them was in the least hurt, they were put on a low priority list. Very, very low. Apparently all of the other elevators in the city were full of pregnant women in the last stages of labour or men having imminent coronaries. Scully and Skinner were told to take it easy and wait it out.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" the cheerful voice had added with a suggestive chuckle, before breaking the connection.

Skinner had snarled at the man's impertinence, and wanted to ring him back, but Scully stopped him by pointing out that it was probably better not to antagonise the people who were coming to rescue you.

"You can shoot him later, Sir. After we're out," she had added with a slight smile.

Skinner snorted at that, but it mollified him for the time being. Scully noted that he had clearly been horrified by the implication that the two of them might 'get up to something' in the elevator. This fact depressed her beyond measure. Because Scully had a secret - one that she would have rather died than revealed to anyone - let alone the man trapped with her inside eight cubic feet of non-reflective stainless steel. Dana Katherine Scully - good Catholic though she was - had the hots for her boss, and had done for some time. And now, here she was trapped with him in an elevator, and he looked completely indifferent - completely unlikely to fulfil the outrageous fantasies she had been having about him.

It had started off sort of accidently. Scully had to people her fantasy landscape with *someone* after all, and Mulder just wouldn't do, although he was the obvious candidate. It would complicate things too much if she started lusting after her partner. And who else was there? No-one, that's who.

She'd first thought of Skinner as having a sexual side to his character after he was found with a dead prostitute in his bed. That incident had made it quite clear that the man had physical urges like everyone else. Scully had been intrigued. Here was clearly a passionate man who had no outlet for his passions. Underneath the surly exterior there was a something hotter brewing and bubbling. That knowledge made Skinner deliciously appealing to Scully.

So from that time on she had started 'borrowing' Skinner on those nights when she could no longer ignore her own bodily needs. It seemed safe enough to use him, although she wasn't sure that 'safe' was the right word. Convenient, perhaps.

After all, she was unlikely to ever give her secret away to him. She rarely saw the man unless it was to report to him in his office and then Mulder always sat by her side. Skinner made sure that their conversation was kept at a minimum. Nothing personal was ever discussed. Heaven forbid.

She could say with complete certainty that she knew almost nothing about the man beyond what was freely available on the public record. But that very fact made him a perfect fantasy lover. She could mould him into whatever shape or position she chose. And she had done just that. Again and again and again. Until gradually she had realised that she wanted more than a fantasy Skinner. She wanted the real one. Needed the real one, if she was going to keep her sanity.

In her erotic daydreams Skinner had already taken her in every possible position. He was an insatiable lover and a ruthless one who had invaded her every orifice and delighted in tormenting and teasing her unmercifully - bringing her to the point of orgasm with fingers or tongue or cock and then stopping until she begged him to finish her off. Like the real Skinner, he rarely spoke in her daydreams. Instead he let his body tell her what he wanted of her. Suddenly withdrawing before she had climaxed, he would just look at her with an almost cruel half-smile on his face until she got the silent message - 'Beg me to finish you, Scully. Beg me.'

And she would - screaming his name and digging her nails into his flesh in frustration until he put her out of her misery by yanking her legs apart without ceremony and driving his cock into her throbbing cunt until she sobbed in release.

This fantasy Skinner clearly resented his 'weakness' his 'need' for another human - and that resentment would manifest itself in his aggressive lovemaking. He would pound almost viciously into her, punishing her for making him need her so. And though she was theoretically powerless when pitted against his size and strength, Scully would be aware that *she* was actually controlling *him*. And that would make her victory over him all that much more sweet.

That was the theory anyway. Shame she would never be able to put it into practice. Because the man clearly had no interest in her whatsoever. He had made that patently obvious again and again.

And now - here she was in an elevator with him and what was likely to happen? Nada. He had given no hint that he might take advantage of this situation - or that he even *wanted* to take advantage of the situation. No hint that he was anything but irritated at the delay to his busy schedule. He couldn't have acted more the professional. His starched white shirt and perfectly knotted tie proclaimed the fact. Only Skinner would sit in a trapped elevator without loosening his tie or removing his jacket.

Scully sighed and told herself to stop acting like a sex-starved teenager. That was the problem of course. Sex. Or rather, the lack of it. She was an intelligent woman who could understood the rationale behind her need to gain sexual gratification in whatever way was convenient and least likely to cause complications. That didn't make it any easier to cope with. It was humiliating to have this human need. And even more humiliating to be faced with the focus of her attraction and then have him apparently completely unaware of her.

They sat on the floor, in opposing corners of the elevator - legs stretched out in front of them. Waiting to be rescued. Or rather, Scully waited and Skinner brooded. She was desperately trying to think of a way to get Skinner to *talk* to her at least. She'd settle for that - just a few words of conversation would do. Something she could incorporate into the next fantasy. Perhaps she might even manage some bodily contact somehow. It was a small elevator, after all.

Half-heartedly, she had tried Skinner out on a range of topics in succession. Each and every one had fallen on deaf ears. How could you be expected to converse with someone who only responded in monosyllables and frowned at you all the time? She felt exasperated. No - make that frustrated. She grinned bleakly at the appropriateness of the latter word.

Throughout her sporadic attempts to engage Skinner in something approaching conversation, Scully had unconsciously been fidgeting in her seat - unable to settle. Unable to breathe properly. The elevator was getting hotter, the longer the two of them sat there, and she found herself needing to gain some relief. Any relief. She started to unbutton her silk blouse - just the top few buttons. Just to help her breathe more easily.

Skinner regarded her actions apparently impassivity, but she noted that his eyes never left her fingers as they played with the silk confinement of her blouse, and when she stopped at the third button, she thought a flash of disappointment skittered across his face before it returned to its usual immobility.

'Maybe,' she thought to herself. 'Just maybe he does want me. Maybe he's holding himself just under control. And maybe it wouldn't take much to get the control to break.'

She didn't really believe it. It was wishful thinking. Skinner was just bored with sitting in this metal box with her. That was it.

And the fact that his glance kept returning to rake across her body? Well, that was because she was the only thing there to look at.

And the fact that he was getting tenser by the minute - holding himself more rigidly - clenching his jaw so tightly that she could tell his teeth must be aching? Could that be boredom? Or could it be something else? Something that would just need a little nudge to make it explode into action.

Skinner's stillness was now a stark contrast to Scully's restless movements. She was resolving to do something desperate. Something to determine the real state of Skinner's mind - to determine what lay under that granite. It didn't look like it would take much. Not much at all.

So - taking a deep breath, she did it. She heard herself asking Skinner if he wanted to play a game. But she added a deliberately provocative emphasis on the word 'game'. There could be no mistaking her double meaning. She saw him jump slightly at her tone, and then quickly recover. So she stayed on the attack.

'It would be fun', she assured him, hardly believing her own temerity.

He glared back at her as if he thought she had indeed lost her mind. The granite face registered a stern disapproval and his expression could have made a grown man cower. For some reason Scully dug in her heels, not allowing herself to be intimidated. She met his stare unflinchingly, and the deeper his frown lines became the more determined *she* became to bend him to her will.

'Go on sir - it will pass the time anyway. It's called 'I Spy'.

That was when he had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he had no intention of playing a game with her. "Not now. Not ever." He repeated the phrase for emphasis. V-e-r-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y. But there was something in his face - something in the look in his eyes, that told her her he might want to play something - but not 'I Spy'. And so she decided to continue baiting Skinner until that rocky fa�ade cracked. Just a little. She didn't ask herself if it was a good idea to goad a man who had no means of escape. A powerful man who was unused to being thwarted. A man who was already as pissed off as she had ever seen him, and that was saying something.

Looking speculatively at her boss, a range of analogies flicked through Scully's brain. He looked like an irritated bird of prey who had been shoved into a canary cage. Or a bull chafing at the ring in his nose. Or a stallion being roped into a horse-box. Or...what? Her imagination ground to a halt. Whatever he looked like, she knew that the wisest course of action would be to ignore him completely and leave him in peace.

Because he looked ready to explode. It would only take a little thing to make him 'lose it'. She could see that much clearly.

And she wasn't feeling cautious today. She was feeling hot and frustrated and sick of having no life beyond the X-files. She wanted something else and this seemed like the only opportunity she was likely to have to get it - in the near future any way. So she decided to try one more time. To take a final gamble. To see just what lay under Skinner's frozen exterior. And she knew just what to say. She knew it was unfair - awful - a humiliating taunt that no-one would bear, least of all a man like Skinner. But it was the only thing that just might work. So, her heartbeat quickening, she heard herself fling down a final verbal gauntlet.

"What's the matter sir?" Her voice held a faint sneer. "Are you chicken or is it just that you don't want to play games with *me*?"

And then hesitating slightly, she added "Or is it that you just like playing with hookers?"

She heard Skinner's angry intake of breath and watched as his eyes darted around the metal cube which enclosed them, as if looking for an escape route. Then at last he seemed to give up. He looked straight back at her and she suddenly felt like a small animal pinned to a dissection table - flesh sliced open and nailed back, her entrails exposed to his hot gaze.

And his gaze was hot - she could almost feel the waves of heated air radiating off of him. He looked like he was about to hit her. Then his hands balled into fists and he leant towards her and she suddenly wondered if perhaps she had pushed him too far and too fast. Her career was at stake here, after all. What exactly had she said? Was it insubordinate? She couldn't remember exactly. Something about him being a chicken? Something about him liking to play games with hookers? Oh Christ - had she actually said that?

And then just as she had begun to wish that she hadn't spoken, he exploded into action. With a half uttered imprecation, he reached across the distance between them and grabbed Scully by her upper arms. She felt each of his fingers biting into her skin painfully. Blissfully. She thought dimly that she'd have bruises there later but before she could think anything else, Skinner suddenly hauled her towards him, dragging her body across his, until their faces were nearly touching.

Scully's body lay on top of his now - her groin on his groin, her breast on his breast. And she couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She could just about articulate a staccato prayer of thanks, and even that only boiled down to the words "At last - thank god - it's happening - at last." She didn't really care when she realised that she'd gasped the words out loud.

"Agent Scully?" Skinner hissed into her face. "Are you absolutely sure that this is the game you want to play?" His tone was fierce. "Agent Scully! Answer me."

He spat the words out, tightening his grip on her upper arms even further. She began to feel a numbness in her hands as the circulation was cut off. He was still asking her something, but she couldn't concentrate enough to answer him. Their roles were reversed now. She was unable to speak and he could not seem to remain silent. Scully stared at his lips and ground her hips into his groin fitfully.

'Please,' she was thinking to herself. 'Please,please,please....' but she couldn't have explained what exactly she was asking for. She just knew that Skinner was the only person who could give it to her.

He repeated his previous question - more loudly this time, almost shouting into her face.

"ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY SURE THAT THIS IS THE GAME YOU WANT TO PLAY? ARE YOU?" His face was a mask of what could have been anger or could have been something else.

'Intense...too intense' Scully thought as her eyes met his. 'I can't look. I'll fall. I'll drown in them.' And yet she couldn't look away from his eyes either. She still said nothing coherent, but she heard a moan escape from her full lips and her eyes dilated a little further. She was trying to reach his lips with her own, but he still held her just out of reach. 'Please....' Her eyes begged him. 'Please....'

It was answer enough. Skinner began to let himself respond to her.

She could feel him growing harder beneath her, and she struggled to reach down and stroke his tantalising length. He refused to free her, however. His arms kept her immobilised, and suddenly his lips were on hers, tearing more groans from her tortured throat as he thrust his tongue into her deeply. He pulled back to bite at her lower lip, drawing blood and then just as frantically he got rid of it again by sucking her lip back into his mouth and licking the tiny wound. His kisses were brutal, as much an attack as a mark of passion. And Scully loved them. Loved him. Wanted more, and showed him that, by the way she whimpered and struggled to touch him. To kiss him back. To bite him back. To suck him back. To lick him.

And now his hands released her arms, and she felt the blood rushing back to her extremities, making them seem alive again. More than alive - on fire. And he began to use his hands to better purpose, running his callused palms over her back, up under her blouse, through her hair, everywhere he could reach. He wasn't still for a second. Yanking up her skirt, he ripped her panties off and without ceremony thrust his two middle fingers into her dripping centre. His other hand clutched the back of her head, which he yanked backwards, so that he could gain access to her throat. There he seemed content to bite and suck and lick while Scully screamed for more.

Throughout his assault on her senses, Skinner's guttural voice rapped out a series of rhetorical questions.

"Is this what you want Agent Scully..." as he thrust his fingers further into her..."or this...or this...or this..." as those same slick fingers penetrated her anally, meeting little resistance. The ring of muscle relaxed and opened to him. She wanted everything to be open to him She was beside herself with lust - beyond reason or the ability to articulate. But she knew that she wanted more. Not his fingers, but his cock should be driving into her. She tried to grab him, struggling to unzip his suit trousers, but he wouldn't let her touch him.

"So - that's what you want, is it? Is it? Well? Answer me?"

"Yes," she keened. "Oh God, yes. Please - please - I'll do anything..."

"Yes, you will..." he assured her almost grimly, as he bit into her shoulder.

Then suddenly he had flipped them over and she was on her back on the floor. Methodically, he stripped off her remaining clothing until she lay completely naked before him. He leant back on his haunches then and his eyes raked across her body, leaving wheals behind them. He stared at her like a madman. Or like a saint. She had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Open your legs," he ordered at last.

Scully obeyed, arching her pelvis up towards him, using her own hands to rub her breasts, to stimulate her nipples. She writhed on the floor, pleading with him. "pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease..." Then she closed her eyes and prayed for relief.

It came within seconds - came with his gravel voice telling her to open her eyes. She did open her eyes, but still she frantically rubbed her own breasts, pulling at the nipples and thrusting her pelvis towards the man who she now saw was kneeling between her spread legs, holding his erect cock in his right hand. Most of his weight was balanced on his left arm which was braced on the floor next to Scully's head. He almost glared down at her as he spat out the words.

"Is this what you wanted, Scully?" he asked, prodding her slick vaginal entrance with the engorged head of his cock, but keeping his eyes glued to her face. "Is this what you wanted? Is it?" He used his hand to guide his cock - up and down - side to side. First upwards to brush her clit, then down to prod her anus. Then round and round her weeping vaginal opening. But he didn't enter her. Not properly. Not at all. Even when she writhed under him, screaming in frustration.

Skinner was unmoved. He was waiting for a spoken answer to the question he had asked, and no amount of non-verbal communication would appease him. He had asked her if this was what she really wanted, and he was waiting to be told. Even though he knew the answer perfectly well already. Her eyes told him 'yes. Her expression shouted 'yes'. Her thrusting pelvis screamed 'yes'. But when she finally used her voice to answer him it was to whisper the word - so softly that he could hardly hear her. And it was the whisper which Skinner couldn't resist. The whisper which ended both of their torments.

It made him abandon any semblance of control and enter her body at last - with one agonisingly desperate lunge followed by another and another and another.

Not slowly. Not gently. Not one careful inch at a time. But savagely, brutally, again and again and again, and again. Deeper and deeper and deeper as his voice gasped her name in time to his lunges and backthrusts.

Suddenly he pulled out of her, and before she could register what had happened or sob her objections, he had already turned her onto her stomach and lifted her bottom up into the air.

"What about this," his voice groaned. "Do you want this too?" And his well lubricated cock prodded her anus. Slick with her own juices, he was able to enter her comparatively easily so that she felt almost nothing but pleasure there in that new unexplored place. She didn't care what he did to her. She wanted him everywhere. In her cunt. In her ass. In her mouth. In her heart. Everywhere.

But his size - his massive size. It must be doing damage, a part of her brain thought. Doctor Dana Scully MD - feared that he might be bruising her cervix. Must be tearing her rectum. But she didn't care. She welcomed the pain as the concomitant to pleasure. "Yes" she whispered again as he thrust and thrust and thrust, each lunge causing her head to bang against the elevator walls. "Oh Yes."

Then he withdrew a final time and turned her onto her back again, re-entering her cunt easily and continuing his frantic thrusting. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hid her face in the sweet haven under his chin - holding on for dear life as he struggled to give them both the release they needed. She was overwhelmed with sensation as his hips pounded relentlessly into her groin. At each forward thrust, she felt his pubic hair grinding almost painfully against her clit; his balls slapping angrily against her crotch; his cock sliding inside her slickness like fingers down a thoat. Of her own accord, she pulled her knees up to her chest, offering him deeper penetration. Begging him for it. And then with one final series of desperate lunges they both came - screaming each other's names and wrapped in each other's arms. It was over and they both lay stranded on the other side, gasping for air.

Into that comparative stillness, into that newly quiescent space, a sobbing was suddenly heard. It was Scully. And she was sobbing for joy.

Skinner sat up and pulled Scully onto his lap. Her legs fitted themselves around his waist and she slipped her arms around his chest clinging to him as if she would never let him go. Skinner knew why she was crying. He was fighting the same tears himself. And as he rocked her small body, he kissed the bruises and cuts, marvelling that they'd both survived this.

Scully's sobs finally slowed until all that was left of them was a faint hiccupping on her indrawn breath. She had turned her head sideways so that her cheek rested over his heart and she was being comforted by its rhythmic thudding. She kept turning her face to kiss his skin, then turning back to rest her cheek on that warm pillow.

Skinner rocked her back and forth, occasionally kissing the top of her head and making soothing noises - the sort of noises you'd make to a hurt or frightened child. Scully did look like she'd been through the wars. Her bottom lip was swollen and bitten, her upper arms were decorated with rings of finger-shaped bruises. There were wheals and bite marks visible everywhere - on her shoulder, neck, inner thighs - everywhere.

She knew that a doctor on seeing her 'injuries' would have diagnosed acute sexual trauma and have assumed that she was the victim of a vicious attact. The opposite was true. She and Skinner had needed to purge the anger, the pain and the frustration they had inadvertently been inflicting on each other. Now could come a quiet time when they could begin to heal each other.

Unspoken was the thought that they would never again have an experience like this one. She doubted that she could live through such another. But she knew that *this* vicious coupling had been necessary. Only now could they go forward.

Dimly Scully heard the speaker phone in the wall crackle into life at long last. She immediately burrowed into Skinner's chest, trying to hide from it. This caused him to chuckle softly and to kiss the top of her head again, while enclosing her even more tightly in his arms.

The voice from the wall was speaking now - something about a further delay - another hour at least. Asking if they'd be able to cope. Apologising for the inconvenience.

Scully was amazed to hear Skinner replying in his normal tone of voice. Asking questions about the rescue efforts - about the state of the emergency generally. Responding to the replies with apparent interest. Scully couldn't be bothered to even listen any more. She was just thinking - 'another hour - we've got another hour' and a blissful smile lit up her flushed face.

"I'd better let you get on with your business" she heard Skinner say at last, his tone suggesting that the man had procrastinated long enough. "Right sir, came the reply. I'm just off now. But sir..."

The man's voice halted expectantly.

"Yes" Skinner barked at the wall. "What is it man?"

"Just wanted to ask if you two have been behaving yourselves sir." Scully heard the man's raucous laughter which suddenly cut off as the connection closed completely. She couldn't help smiling to herself.

And then she heard something else. Something which she had never heard in her life before so that it took her a minute to recognise it for what it was. But when she worked it out, the sound just made her smile even more broadly.

It was Skinner. And he was laughing too. There was no doubt about it. He was throwing back his head and laughing, right out loud. And in all of her life, Scully didn't think that she had ever heard anything quite so beautiful.

- fin -