Pick Any Number by Red Valerian

Pick Any Number by Red Valerian
& Sheryl Martin

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

Author - Red Valerian and SHERYL MARTIN (who provided some wonderful dialogue which got me unhooked from that cliff I left everyone dangling from in my earlier version.)

Rating - NC17, Category - Vignette/Romance - subcategory: Mulder/Scully-ish, Spoilers - none - and in this world Memento Mori never happened, Keywords - smut, smut and more smut

Summary - Scully is about to discover what Mulder has been hiding on his hard-drive.

Oh - and of course they're not mine - they belong to CC or Fox or someone. Is there anyone out there who doesn't know this already?

Pick Any Number by Red Valerian
and Sheryl Martin

Scully typed a few key search words in the Alta Vista window and then hit the 'send now' button. She then leant back in her chair and watched the screen with little enthusiasm. This was the fifth time she'd used the search engine, and she'd had no success so far. Or rather she'd had too much success, that was the problem. There was just too much *stuff* on the internet. However hard you tried to refine a search, you were consistently given too many answers. And too many answers was just as impossible to deal with as too few. Although Mulder might have argued with her there. He was obsessed with finding *the* answer, and here she was - irritated at being given too many. It was ironic, in a way.

The screen finally cleared, and Scully looked at the monitor with a faint hope which quickly faded just as quickly.

"About 426,657 documents match your query," the screen informed her helpfully. She muttered something most un-Scullylike under her breath and closed her eyes wearily. This may have been fewer than on the last search - *that* had provided over five million possible answers - but it was still too much information to attempt to process. Not when she felt like she did now - exhausted and pissed off.

In disgust she disconnected from the net and turned off her terminal. Now What? She needed to find the information before she left. Well - she didn't need to, but the perfectionist in her *wanted* to. She knew that if she didn't finish her report accurately she wouldn't be able to rest that night. And Lord, did she need to rest. So many late nights. So many unsatifactory solutions to impossible to solve cases. And always that constant feeling of being pulled two ways. She pictured herself as a turkey wishbone, and a small smile flickered across her weary face. But the analogy held. She was indeed being torn in half.

On the one hand there was Science and Reason and a whole corpus of knowledge which supported everything Scully had been trained to believe and believed to be true. But on the other hand there was Mulder. Mr. Irrational. Mr. Intense. Mr. Trust No One. Mr..what?

She stopped finding emblematic names for him, and glanced over at his empty desk. Or rather, at the computer which sat on his desk. Mr. Compulsive - that was the name she had been searching for. And Mr. Compulsive, she knew, had a habit of bookmarking everything - and I mean EVERYTHING. Maybe a quick look through his bookmark files would solve her problem? It wasn't exactly ethical, delving into the contents of a friend's hard-drive. But then she was a desperate woman, and after all - what could Mulder have on his computer that she shouldn't see?

She knew that she was rationalising what amounted to an invasion of his privacy, but despite that knowledge, she still found herself drifting over to Mulder's desk, switching on his computer and opening his browser window. Then with one click she was looking at his bookmark list and had fallen into his chair to read it properly. If he came back unexpectedly, she was sure that he'd understand her need to find an answer. At least she hoped so. And anyway, he wasn't due back for hours. Once more, he'd torn off without her to follow up a tenuous lead which had probably taken him on yet another frustrating goosechase. He'd said he might make it back to the office tonight, but in Mulder's case, 'might' was generally a euphemism for 'when hell freezes over'. She should be safe enough.

Scully leant into the monitor and began reading the bookmark file. It was endless, but logically categorised. There were separate listings under Paranormal Phenomenon; ESP; Alien abduction; retro-viral infection and Out of Body Experiences. Pretty much what she had expected, and not of any help in her search. She clicked onto 'More Bookmarks' and was presented with an even longer list of possibilities. Her glance flowed down the list, mentally eliminating each category as she came to it, when suddenly she was stopped in her tracks. One folder in particular caused her eyebrows to raise and another little grin to light up her face. The folder was labelled: 'Images-porn'.

She stared at it, her grin widening still further. Remembering Mulder's known weakness for X-rated entertainment, she should have expected this, really. But now she was in real trouble. Scully had to admit it - she was dying to see what images Mulder had put on his hard-drive. Men and pornography. It was such a fascinating subject.

She was not a total stranger to pornography herself, but she'd never been titillated by the salacious novels her friends had read as teenagers. Oh - she'd read them too, but in her case it was more of an intellectual exercise. 'Fanny Hill' and 'The Story of O' seemed utterly pointless examples of the completely unrealistic male fantasy being acted out in literary terms. She'd read them with a scientific detachment, and then tried to reach a conclusion about their genesis and function. To her, all they proved was that men were desperately ruled by their genitalia. Or rather, by women's genitalia.

It seemed to be universal. As teenagers, her brothers had secreted copies of Playboy under their mattresses , and she'd had the odd look, out of curiosity. But again, it all seemed rather amusing and pointless. Who would want a woman with breasts the size of Goodyear blimps, anyway? Who would 'jack off' looking at the poor unnatural creatures with their pouting lips and spindly spread thighs. It mystified her and intrigued her. That intelligent men could be so undermined by female anatomy.

And she knew that Mulder was no exception. Despite his brilliant mind and obsession with finding the truth, he was also ruled by his crotch, just like every other man who hadn't taken religious vows. Just like every other man *she* had ever met, anyway. But what were Mulder's fantasies, precisely? What did he dream about and long for? What sort of woman was his ideal? She knew that she had no right to know these things, but she was ceasing to care about right and wrong. She was tired and fed up and after all, didn't this man owe her something? She wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed a convincing argument to her weary brain. Then she remembered something else which helped settle the matter.

Mulder hadn't been embarrassed that time she'd found *that* video in the office VCR, had he? It was as if men weren't embarrassed by their biological needs at all. On the contrary, it was as if they were proud of having them. And finally, if Mulder had really wanted no-one to look at this list, he could have password protected it. That was the argument which finally convinced her.

As she continued to rationalise her decision to do the inevitable, Scully slowly moved the mouse so that the cursor spiraled around and around the words "images:porn".

"Round and around we go, and where she stops, nobody knows," she murmered aloud. The cursor finally came to rest squarely over the words. Then, after a final slight hesitation where she bid a fond farewell to her scruples, she clicked on the phrase and was instantly rewarded with a long list of very extreme possibilites.

Boy was Scully awake now. Wide awake. Even in the dimly lit room, the light from the monitor easily picked out her bright eyes and avid expression as she leaned further in to read what was on the screen. The *very* long numbered list was broken into categories and sub-categories. Glancing quickly at the main headings, her eyebrows went up another notch, and her grin widened yet further. She shook her head in disbelief. Mulder *had* got it bad, that was for sure. There were hundreds of links here - each 'link' being a short descriptive phrase which was clickable.

She began to scroll though the categories, trying to decide which to examine first. The choice was endless and a little unnerving. 'Foreplay', 'Oral Action', 'Boy/Girl Games', 'Anal Fun', 'Bondage', 'Close-ups', 'Cum-shots' and finally, 'Sex Toys'. Jesus. What on earth were they? She decided she'd rather not pursue that one just yet, and instead examined the numbered links under 'Close-ups'.

The first few choices were as follows: 1. Delightful dripping pussy 2. Lovely lass licks dick 3. Beautiful babe spreads pussy for incoming 4. Perfect Pussy triple-decker sandwich.

Someone just loves alliteration, she thought wryly as she clicked on number four - the triple-decker pussy sandwich.

The screen jumped to a new page, and the image gradually loaded from the top down. She watched in amused fascination. Yup. There they were - eventually. Three women lying on top of one another with spread legs. Three sets of female genitals stared back at her in extreme close-up. During Scully's medical training she had of course examined countless women internally and externally. She was well aware of the distinct and seemingly endless variations in human anatomy and physiology. But still - even *she* had never examined three women at the same time.

As she stared closely at the screen she unconsciously slipped into medical mode and found herself looking at the image with a view to diagnosing any irregularities in the genitalia on display. Oops. Time to move on.

As Scully guided the cursor to the back button and then clicked on the next link, she had a little niggling thought that she was missing something in the 'triple-decker' photograph. Something important. But she was too impatient to carry on exploring to worry about it now. And besides, Mulder just might come back, and she didn't quite see how either of them would survive this little discovery - not with their dignity intact, anyway.

Next she tried number two. Oh dear. Talk about false advertising. As the picture slowly loaded, it became obvious that the so-called "Lovely lass" was neither "lovely"nor a "lass". She was hideously made-up and closer to forty than thirty. And the "dick" in question was nothing special either. Scully was faintly disappointed.

Again she found herself moving on - but now a small frown had appeared between her perfectly arched brows and her expression was a little anxious rather than amused. She just knew that she was missing something, but she still couldn't put her finger on what it was. She was more sure than ever that it was important, though.

Sighing, she reflected that the only way to solve puzzles like this, was to stop thinking about them. As soon as you did, the answer popped into your brain like magic. She'd continue her exploration of Mulder's little gallery and it would doubtless all become clear eventually.

Scully soon fell into a pattern. Click. Load. Examine. Back. Move on.

Click. Load. Examine. Back. Move on.

As screen shot after screen shot came, loaded and went, the light flickered over her face, illuminating an incredible range of expressions. Sometimes she looked amused. Sometimes aghast. Sometimes surprised. Sometimes disgusted. Sometimes fascinated. Eventually, she looked rather bored. What she never looked, even slightly - was aroused. And she'd been at it for over an hour now.

At the beginning she'd decided that she had indeed led rather a sheltered life, despite her medical training. By the end, she felt qualified to begin a doctoral thesis on the sexual fantasies of the adult male as reflected in pornographic photographs. And sex toys? Hell, she could manufacture the things. There was now nothing she didn't know about butt plugs, nipple clips or double-ended vibrators.

But through it all there was still that niggling feeling that she was missing something important.

Then it came to her. Suddenly. In a proverbial blinding flash which froze her at the screen for a few seconds while her eyes widened. Oh shit - she was in trouble now - if she was right. There was only one way to find out.

And she quickly began clicking once more through the hundreds of images she'd spent the last hour examining. Having loaded once already, they appeared instantly this time around, and as she methodically clicked on one after another after another, the single element linking *all* of the photographs became patently obvious. God. How could she have missed it? She was a scientist, wasn't she? Trained to observe carefully and to analyse data? Well here's some data to analyse Dr Scully.

What do all of the photographs on Mulder's hard drive have in common? From the triple-decker genitals to the loving close-ups of cunnilingus and fellatio? It was so obvious it made her want to laugh. Or cry. Or do something she didn't choose to articulate too precisely.

Each and every one of the female models in the photographs had red hair, that's what. Every one. Without exception. Hair the exact shade and texture of her own.

There could be no doubt whatsoever who Mulder had in mind as he looked at these photographs. And suddenly Scully found herself responding to them differently too. They were no longer interesting or revolting, or even mildly amusing. What they were was hot. Very hot. Because this time she was doing what she was sure Mulder did when he looked at them. The trick was to use empathy.

Those were *her* lips lovingly licking *his* cock as he grimaced in pleasure. Those were *his* fingers, gently teasing *her* clit as she arched her back like a cat. That was *her* bent over a table as Mulder took her from the rear, and *him* who was ejaculating all over her smiling face. Oh God. As she started to squirm in the chair, Scully realised for the first time in her life, how people could get very turned on by porn. She mentally apologised to her brothers for teasing them all those years ago. Hell - she even owed Mulder an apology, although he was never going to get it.

And then, just as suddenly as she had realised the significance of the photograhs, she realised something else. Someone was standing behind her, and had been for quite some time.

The hairs at the nape of her neck stood up slightly and she felt herself blushing scarlet. Please don't let it be Mulder, please don't let it be Mulder, please don't let it be Mulder, she whispered internally, even as she knew it could be no-one else. For verification, she looked again at the screen, and sure enough - there was his reflection faintly visible. He was silhouetted in the doorway behind her, staring intently.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. Now what? There weren't too many options here. What she wanted to do was die, or disappear into the floor, but that wasn't a viable possibilty. So what was? She could calmly turn off the computer and walk out the door without meeting Mulder's eyes or saying anything. But there were two problems with that course of action. One - she'd have to brush right past him to leave the room. Two - she had a horrible feeling that there was a damp patch on the back of her skirt which would show if she stood up. Impossible to take the chance.

What else could she do? Turn around and say something witty? "Hey Mulder - you busted me. Now I see why they call it a 'hard' drive."

No way. She'd never pull it off. Shit shit shit shit! What else was there? There was nothing else, that's what. Nothing at all.

Throwing in the towel, she plonked her elbows on the desk and dropped her burning face onto her two trembling hands. That's it Doctor Scully. Very mature. Adopt the ostrich approach.

'Maybe Mulder will take this opportunity to slip away, giving both of you the chance to save face,' a little voice whispered hopefully.

'Dream on,' another more realistic voice replied.

The minutes ticked by and the silence in the room became almost thick with tension. But nothing happened. Nothing. Scully had just begun to hope that the first little voice had got it right after all - that Mulder had indeed slipped away to save them both embarrassment. She was about to drop her hands and take a peek when she felt it. A gentle breath on the back of her neck. Lips just brushing the nape and then drifting up to her earlobe and nibbling gently.

Oh God. It felt so good. She felt her nipples harden immediately in response and a sudden almost unpleasant throbbing began in the juncture where her legs met. She held her breath in anticipation. And she didn't have long to wait.

Firm hands gripped her shoulders and then slid down her upper arms and then up her forearms to her wrists. Her hands were pulled away from her face, gently but firmly. Still she refused to turn around and meet his glance. Instead she looked straight ahead at the monitor.

*That* was no escape whatsoever. A dark screensaver had come on, and she could now see her reflection as clearly as if she were looking in a mirror. Hers and Mulder's. On the screen she watched his eyes meet hers, and an expectant smile lit up his face. He leaned in even closer, lips brushing her cheek this time, but his eyes stayed glued to hers on the screen, gauging her reaction. It wasn't too difficult to assess. A blind man could have done it.

Her eyes were heavy lidded with clearly dilated pupils. Her lips were half open and slick where her tongue had recently visited. Her cheeks were still flushed, but with growing arousal rather than with embarrassment. She had to face it. The woman whose face was reflected in the monitor looked positively wanton - there was no other word for it.

Mulder saw it all, and the smile on his face widened. Letting go of her right wrist, he jiggled the mouse until the screen saver disappeared again. Now their reflections had also gone, and in their place the image index and its interminable list of numbered links appeared.

"Hey Scully," Mulder whispered in her ear, knowing with absolute certainty that he would get the response he wanted. Just as she too knew, with equal certainty that she would give it.

"Hey," his throaty voice continued. "Pick...any....number."

She exhaled slowly, hearing the whistling air escape between her moist lips. Turning finally to face him at last, she smiled weakly.

"Only one?" she heard herself whisper. Her heart had started thudding in counterpoint to the throbbing coming from below. This was it. There'd be no going back now. Her stomach lurched in anticipation and terror.

With a growl, Mulder spun her swivel chair around to face him, immediately afterwards falling on his knees in front of her and burying his face in her lap.

Without thinking, Scully found herself gripping his head and pressing it further into her lap. He pushed his face from side to side, and she could feel his mouth trying to taste her through the cloth of her knitted skirt. She felt almost drugged - incapable of instigating any action herself.

All of the photographs she had seen were clicking through her mind like a slide show - shot after shot of couples in the throes of sexual ecstasy. Only they weren't just couples were they? What she had been seeing - she suddenly realised - was a preview of coming attractions.

She began to whimper and squirm in the chair then, wanting Mulder to do something more. Anything. Anything to make that throbbing need go away.

He spoke then , but as his face was still muffled in her lap, she couldn't quite make it out.

"What?" she whispered, leaning back in the chair, and parting her legs slightly, so that his head could burrow even further into her warmth. Into her wetness. "What do you want me to do, Mulder?"

Her voice was thick with desperation. Mulder heard it. Still on his knees in front of her, he finally looked up and spoke.

"Lift up, Scully." That was all he said. But it was accompanied by a look that promised much. Or threatened much. She couldn't tell which.

Scully was too desperate to argue. Instead she gripped the arms of the chair and raised herself up a few inches to allow Mulder easier access. Without losing eye contact, he smoothly scooted her skirt up to her waist, and then just as quickly he slid her drenched panties off.

Scully no longer had any shame. She spread her legs for him and settled back down on the leather chair. It felt alien to be sitting on the cold leather with her bare skin; alien having Mulder kneeling there in front of her nakedness. Alien but exhilarating to have him run his fingers through the damp curls which were an undeniable proof of her need for him.

Mulder looked his fill, before finally again burying his face in her waiting lap. But now he was using his hands to pull her legs even further apart so that he could begin exploring her moist folds more easily. He began teasing her swollen clitoris with tongue and teeth, enjoying making her writhe under him. Making her moan. Finally Scully began to gasp and and pant. She gripped the arms of the chair, arching her back in frozen anticipation. Arching it further and then further, pushing herself almost out of the seat, trying to escape from Mulder, even as she begged him not to stop. Never to stop.

God! Mulder's mouth was magic. His hands dug into her upper thighs to give him better purchace, while he he lapped and licked and bit, driving Scully higher and higher and higher, until suddenly her body went rigid and she shuddered and screamed her way though the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. She heard herself crying out his name and the name of her god, and she would have been hard pressed to distinguish between the two at that moment.

In the aftermath, her rigid body suddenly collapsed and she let herself slide down off of the chair so that she was kneeling opposite Mulder. She threw her arms around his neck then, and in between weeping and laughing, she began to kiss him over and over and over. Mulder returned her kiss for kiss; laugh for laugh - until eventually they nuzzled into each other's necks and were silent for a while, gently rocking each other. It was Mulder who broke the silence at last, in typical Mulder fashion.

Kissing the top of her head, he pulled back so that he could look down at her flushed but smiling face. She could see a teasing light in his eye, mixed with something a little darker. She shivered in anticipation at his next words.

"Well Scully," he began, a suggestive grin on his face, "That was number 39. I think it's only fair if *you* get to choose the next number, don't you?"

And laughing throatily, Scully was only too happy to oblige.

-fin-

Pick Any Number by Red Valerian & Sheryl Martin

Pick Any Number by Red Valerianand Sheryl Martin

Pick Any Number by Red Valerian
& Sheryl Martin

Pick Any Number by Red Valerian
and Sheryl Martin