Keyhole

Keyhole by Feathers

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

***WARNING*** I don't think this is one that Newtie pie would like to read. It contains material that some people may find offensive. It is NOT reccommended for anyone under the age of 17, or anyone who does not want to read explicit sexually oriented material. I rate it NC-17 XXX.

I have tried not to make it completely gratuitous, but it is basically a big masturbation scene and I know that isn't everyone's cup of whatever. I don't normally write this kind of material, but the very sexy story "Fantasies" got me thinking, and this is what I came up with. Not exactly a reply, but along the same lines. I have tried to keep within the behaviours I believe would be appropriate to the characters.

Anyway, the characters Mulder and Scully are the property of Chris Carter and ten thirteen productions and have been used without permission.

Keyhole by Feathers

Scully was annoyed. Mulder knew she hated it when he made her late, yet here she was, waiting. He didn't answer the first knock and she wasn't going to make a scene by yelling, she had a key to his place, so she let herself in.

"Mulder?" No answer. In the middle of the lounge room floor was a baggy sweatshirt, still damp with sweat. He'd gone running and forgotten the time. There was a striptease down the hallway to the bathroom, she could see track pants and shoes. In the distancce she could hear the sound of the shower. She toyed with the idea of tidying up the scattered clothes but decided against it. Mulder could look after his own sweaty laundry.

She waited, staring at the fish. They did the same energetic dance that they used to convince Mulder to feed them every time he walked into the room. Funny how well trained they had him. She took a few flakes from the packet of fish food and sprinkled them on the water. They had Scully rather well trained, too. She flicked on the light and picked up a magazine. There were plenty of beautiful glossy pictures in it, but it wasn't the kind of thing she'd want on her coffee table. Most of the physiques looked as if they belonged on athletes. Most of the positions looked like they would need a broad minded chiropractor with a penchance for nude jelly wrestling and 3-dimensional jigsaw puzzles to undo.

Scully was getting bored. How the hell long did it take for Mulder to get himself cleaned up? He was going to wash himself down the plughole if the hot water didn't run out first. Then she started to worry. Perhaps Mulder was sick and hunched down in a miserable shivering heap in the corner of his cubicle. Or maybe he'd disturbed an intruder. It was possible. Even Mulder let his guard down sometimes, and when more than at home? He could have had his head smashed and be lying there with his blood washing down the drain...Scully knew it was a mistake to sit up half the night watching Psycho. Now she had to go and make sure that Mulder was ok.

She didn't turn on the hall light, the light from the lounge room behind her was enough, it stretched her shadow along the hall floor in front of her. There was an odd light coming from the bathroom. She paused as she came to the door. How was she going to explain this if Mulder was perfectly all right, and just wanted to have a long shower? She couldn't just walk in on him and tell him she was frightened for his life while he was bathing. Even her mother didn't obsess that badly. Mulder would never let her live it down. She needed to just peer through the keyhole or something, just to let herself know that he was all right.

He hadn't shut the door. It opened inwards, away from her. She could see a candle on the vanity, that was the odd, flickering light she had wondered about. The shower cubicle was directly behind the door, and she would have to push it open to see in, unless...She put her eye to the gap between door and jamb on the hinge side. She could see him then, moving about.

Water sluiced over his head and cascaded down his body. He flicked it out of his eyes and in the flickering light provided by the candle she could see him smiling. The glass walls of the cubicle were clear as crystal. Apparently he kept them sprayed with one of those miracle glass de-foggers you got off the home shopping shows. Scully was relieved she hadn't peeped round the door, he'd have seen her straight away. She should have realised that Mulder's paranoia made him the kind of person who even kept a watch out while he was in the shower. She smiled too. It was like watching a wild animal from a photographer's hide, like seeing him in his natural habitat. Naked and alone, she would have expected him to look vulnerable, but here he looked feral and foxy.

The secrecy was part of it, and Scully had to admit a certain enjoyment. She'd seen him naked before, but always sick naked, lying dependent and limp in hospital beds. Now there was a whole world of difference. She enjoyed the gliding interplay of his long, hard muscles and the sensuous way he let the water flow over his body, and until now it had never occurred to her to speculate on just how *big* her partner was. Not that she'd had a huge wealth of experience with men's dangly bits, but she recalled an in-depth conversation with her younger brother just after she'd graduated medical school. He'd made certain observations in the locker room at the gym, and he figured this was one doctor he could safely confide in. Mulder would have rated Very Impressive on her brother's scale. Very Impressive and very...erect.

Scully wasn't sure why she kept watching. She wasn't a pervert. She hadn't been at all interested in Mulder's magazine, but she wanted to watch him. To see him, still smiling as he soaped his right hand and then let it slide in a slow, sensuous motion along the shaft of his penis from tip to balls. His hand rested there for a moment and then began slowly, gently, soaping his scrotum. Scully bit her lip, she could feel her own hands clenching into fists and sliding along her thighs, apparently of their own accord. She knew she should look away, Mulder chose to be alone at this time. It was wrong to watch.

His hand returned to the shaft, stroking, long and hard five or six times, holding it hard up against his belly and letting his fingers trail upwards. He squeezed the cheeks of his bottom together in time to the relaxed rhythm of his stroking, his eyes fixed on some middle distant point on the floor beyond the slightly opened bathroom door. She studied his face through the sheen of water flowing down the cubicle's glass walls. His smiles were too rare, he looked very different when he smiled. Scully's hands were hard against her crotch and she could feel her nipples taut against the lace of her bra. She leaned hard against the door jamb, watching his hands, his body, powerless to drag herself away.

He cupped his balls with his left hand, massaging them slowly while he traced tiny circles around the head of his penis with just the tip of the index finger of his right hand. He drew the tips of his fingers along the shaft as though he was teasing himself. Scully had slipped her left hand under her dress and clenched it tight between her thighs but somehow the middle finger had escaped and made its way into her panties and rested against her clitoris which moved against it to the rhythm of her rocking hips.

God, Mulder, why the hell was she doing this? It was wrong and there was no way to make it right. She wished he would make a sound, but she heard nothing over the noise of the shower. She was mesmerised by him, by the little smile and the sliding hand that moved, now, in the same rhythm as her hips. Her right hand brushed against her hard nipple. He was using two hands now, long and slow and hard, letting the right hand slide right to the tip while the left held the base of the shaft very tightly.

She was feeling dizzy. A purely physiological response, she reminded herself, since all the blood had rushed to her genitals. She flicked at her clitoris with her finger, speeding the rhythm to a throbbing pulse. Her tongue pushed its way between her lips and she imagined sucking Mulder's fat dick and biting his juicy lips. Only his hand moved now, pumping fast and hard along his shaft. She stared at his mouth and imagined herself devouring it, and in that moment she came. It was a small, shuddering abrupt orgasm that gave her nothing but a slight sense of relief as compensation for the enormous feeling of perverted guilt that the act had given her.

Her blood hissed in her ears and she slumped against the wall and watched Mulder as he came. His eyes lost focus and then closed for a moment and his mouth opened in an expression of what might have been agony. He leant as though exhausted against the wall of the cubicle, his shoulders heaving, his cock resting gently in his hand. He was staring at the wad of cum as it slipped down the glass, idly splashing at it to wash it away. All in silence. Mulder hadn't uttered a single sound. Scully wished he had said her name, just once. It would have given her an excuse to come into the bathroom, "Want a hand?" she could have said. She smoothed the rumples from her clothes and backed away from the door.

Scully turned and walked back down the hallway. Mulder would find her in the kitchen,cool as a cucumber, making a cup of tea. Eventually she might be able to pretend to herself that nothing had ever happened. That the whole thing had simply been her imagination. She never realised that with the light from the loungeroom shining down the short hall from behind her, her shadow had been clearly visible from within the candle-lit bathroom.

But wait... there's more...

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