Title: My Pleasure / Likewise Author: mimic117 Email: mimic1172@gmail.com Rating: R - NC-17 depending on your imagination and tolerance for bad language Category: V, Haven's Guilty Pleasure Challenge Spoilers: Uhhhh... nope. Summary: Guilty (illicit). Pleasure (sensual gratification). 'Nuff said. Archive: Boy howdy, have at it! Keywords: Mulder POV in My Pleasure, Scully POV in Likewise Disclaimer: The sex change fairies have not visited recently. I am still not CC. Ergo, they are not mine. Author's Notes: Just when I think I'm gonna be mature and buckle down to the work I *have* to do, certain people come up with a great idea for a challenge AND THEN poke me about it. It's all your fault, Sybil. Challenge Notes: I really made it difficult for myself, trying to include all the challenge elements in one story, so I split them up and used some in one fic and some in another. So I figured I'd go ahead and post them in tandem in order to keep the elements together in space if not in one actual story. I know it's cheating, but I don't care. ~nyah~ Challenge elements are listed at the end. Thanks to: Sdani and Jake for the helpful suggestions at a moment's notice and for taking a quick gander. I appreciate both of you all to heck. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My Pleasure by mimic117 I should not be doing this. Jesus God, I should *not* be doing this! I'm gonna be in such trouble if I get caught. Oh who am I trying to kid? I'll be able to sing with the Vienna Boy's Choir if she catches me. So I don't let her catch me. Simple. ~snort~ Ack! No noise! Don't make any noise. None. No snorting. No coughing. And especially no moaning. ~moan~ Shit shit shit! Oh. Wait. That wasn't me moaning. That was Scully. Holy hell, Scully's moaning! Dammit! I shouldn't be doing this. She's been on vacation for the past week, and I was coming over one last time to pick up the mail and make sure there was food in the fridge when she got back. I know -- it's a piss-poor excuse for me to rummage around in places where I don't belong. I remade the bed after I fell asleep on it over the weekend, and I was very careful to put back her shampoo and girly-smelling lotions exactly the way I found them when I was done sniffing. Hopefully she won't remember the precise positioning of her shoes in the closet after being away for a week. It seems like I just can't help myself lately, and ever since she left, I've been like a stalker, invading her life in subtle ways she could never imagine. Touching her belongings, fantasizing about what she does in her home, wishing I could do those things with her. I could *probably* think up a good excuse for looking in her kitchen cupboards if I had to -- like I was searching for a screwdriver to fix something I noticed was loose. I mean, don't women usually keep things like that in a kitchen junk drawer? She might not believe me, but she'd never be able to prove it. Still, some of the stuff I've done in the past week would be grounds for a restraining order. What I'm doing now is likely to get me castrated. I didn't mean to spy on her. Honest. I would never intentionally invade her privacy like that. We're under so much scrutiny because of our work, whatever privacy we can find is precious to both of us. If she'd invited me here to watch her, that would be a different matter. But she didn't, so I should have left the minute I saw her. Only I didn't leave, and now I can't tear myself away. She wasn't supposed to be home yet! Her mother was going to pick her up at the airport so they could spend the day together. When I didn't see her car outside, I didn't think anything of it. Too bad I forgot that she'd taken the car to be worked on while she was gone. I passed the mail carrier in the hallway, so I picked up her mail and let myself into her apartment. Everything looked normal. I guess that isn't too surprising. Scully doesn't usually dump her belongings in the living room when she gets back from a trip like some people I know. If I hadn't been so intent on snooping in her bedroom one last time, I probably would have noticed signs of occupation. It wasn't until I turned into the hallway and heard the shower running that I realized I wasn't alone. I pulled my gun. How stupid is that? Like Krycek or old Smoky is gonna break into her apartment just so they can take a shower. It was a totally knee-jerk reaction. However, I'd been searching through her wardrobe myself, only three days ago, looking for the one suit I love that she hasn't worn in a couple years. Maybe my reaction wasn't quite as silly as it first appeared. So anyway, I pulled my gun, flattened myself against the hallway wall, and inched forward in textbook Special Agent fashion until I got to the open bathroom door. Then I took a deep breath and snuck a peek around the corner. Just long enough to see what's what. I pulled my head back again, but not before I got an eyeful. Of Scully. Scully in the shower. The shower with the glass doors. The glass doors that weren't *completely* steamy. So what did I do when I saw Scully naked, behind the almost transparent shower doors? Did I turn around like a gentleman and leave? Nope. Did I call out to let her know she wasn't alone and unobserved anymore? Uh uh. Well, I at least averted my eyes and afforded her the privacy she deserves. Right? Don't make me laugh. I returned my gun to its holster, fell to my knees in the hallway, and stared. With my mouth open, my tongue hanging out, and my cock beginning to sit up and take notice. Yep. Like the considerate, sensitive Man-Of-The-Nineties that I am, I'm currently crouching in Scully's hallway sporting a boner of massive proportions. Who needs foreplay? On a normal day, Scully can make me hard with one lift of a skeptical eyebrow. After seeing her naked, my dick reacted like I'd swallowed an entire bottle of Viagra. ~moan~ "Mmmm, uhhhh..." Ohh yeah. Ohh Scully, you are so beautiful like this, with one hand moving between your legs and your head thrown back in ecstasy. I wish those were my fingers plucking at your nipples. I'd follow them with my lips and my teeth, nibbling and kissing your breasts until you begged me for more. Until you begged me to fuck you senseless. But I wouldn't. Not yet. Not until you were whimpering and moaning, just the way you're moaning now. "Oooh, yeah, mmmmmul...." These jeans are killing me. It'll be a miracle if my cock doesn't burst right through the zipper. If I don't adjust myself, I'm gonna be in a world of hurt. Shit, I'm such a pervert. That feels sooo good. I can just imagine Scully's hand on me, shifting the fabric around, cupping my balls, stroking her fingers up and down, up and down... Stop it! Quit thinking with your dick, dick-head. You *do not* want Scully to catch you 'roughing up the suspect' in her hallway. If you had any brains or integrity at all, you would leave right -- "Oh!" ~gasp~ "Mulder..." No way. No fucking way. I couldn't have heard what I think I heard. ~gasp moan~ "MuuulllderMulderMulder..." Holy shit! Scully said my name. When she came. She went rigid and shook and actually moaned my name when she came. Oh my God... I never thought... I... I... Ohhhh fuck. Oh hell. I can't believe it. I hardly touched myself and I had a fucking orgasm, from nothing but the sound of my name on her lips. I haven't creamed in my jeans since I was nineteen. God, that was incredible. *She's* incredible. I only wish -- Dammit! She's reaching to shut off the water! I gotta get out of here. I can't let her find me like this. Hurry, Mulder, hurry. Just get to the door as fast as you can. NO! Don't -- Whew. I caught it. If that vase had hit the floor when I bumped the table... I can just see it now. She rushes out of the bathroom, dripping wet and loaded for bear to find ME -- surrounded by shards of crystal vase and a wet spot around my zipper. That would be simply charming. Safe. I don't think the door made much noise when it closed. Hopefully, she couldn't hear it inside the bathroom. She'll never even know I was there. Thank God. How could you be so stupid, shit-for-brains? She almost caught you whacking off in her hallway! Driving home with cold, congealing spunk in your shorts is the least of what you deserve. Now put the whole incident out of your mind. You have no right to think of your partner that way. But Jesus, she was so beautiful when she came. So amazingly beautiful. Dammit. I shouldn't have done that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END of My Pleasure Continued in.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Likewise by mimic117 I really shouldn't be doing this. Mulder gave me his spare key for emergencies only. I would knock, but he didn't answer his phone when I called on the way over, his car is sitting in its usual spot, and I don't hear any noise inside, so he must have gone for a run. I'll let myself in and wait for him. I know he was in my apartment not more than an hour ago. When I got out of the shower, the mail was sitting on the table. I *know* I didn't pick up the mail when I got home -- it hadn't arrived yet. And when I started checking around, I found some fresh yogurt and fruit in the fridge. It was really sweet of him to make sure I wouldn't have to go out right away, but why didn't he stay? He must have heard the shower. I just don't understand. The vacation was really nice, but I missed Mulder. I don't know how many times I found myself thinking "I have to tell Mulder about that." or "Mulder would really enjoy this." He was in my thoughts so much, I might as well have asked him to come with me. Mom and I were going to spend time together today, but after she picked me up at the airport this morning, I was anxious to get home, take a shower, and talk to Mulder. She understood, bless her heart, so we're going to take a raincheck for next weekend. Then I found a message on the answering machine that my car was ready for pick-up, so I figured I could do that after my shower and then come over to surprise Mulder. And after all that, he shows up at my apartment and doesn't stay. I hope he won't be gone too long. I'll find something to read and get comfortable while I wait. Oh no! He's sleeping on the couch. No wonder I didn't hear any noise. I hope I didn't wake him. Oh. Wait. He's wearing headphones. I guess he's listening to music, not sleeping. I didn't know Mulder liked to relax with music. I'll bet it's an Elvis tape. He looks so comfortable, I hate to interrupt, but I really want to know why he didn't stick around earlier. I hope I don't startle him, creeping about the room like a stalker. ~moan~ What the hell is he listening to? I've never heard him react that way to Elvis before. "Ohhhh, yeah baby..." Now I *know* that's not Elvis. What does he have in that -- Wait a minute. That's MY old micro-cassette recorder, the one I replaced two months ago when it went missing! I recognize where I duct-taped the crack in the cover. Why on earth does Mulder have it? I have to get his attention. What with him running off this morning and now finding out he has my recorder, he's got a lot of explaining to do. Oh. Oh my God. Oh dear Jesus, I need to leave. I have to leave right now. Rightnowrightnowrightnow. "Mmmm, so gooood..." Oh God, I'm watching Mulder masturbate. I can't believe I'm doing this. I *shouldn't* be doing this. It's wrong. It's a betrayal of his trust and I should leave immediately but I can't stop watching. I've got a knot in my stomach, just like the first time I went to a circus. I was only five and the clowns terrified me, but I couldn't stop looking at them. I'd hide behind my mother every time one of them got near me, then I'd peek around her skirt to get another look. This feels exactly the same. I don't want to look, but I can't tear my eyes away. I wish I had something to hide behind right now. Dammit! I should *not* be doing this! ~moan~ "Uh uh uh uh..." He's going to have an orgasm. I just know it. While I'm standing here, watching, he's going to make himself come. I will not touch myself. No! Absolutely not. This is wrong. It's an invasion of his privacy. He'd be mortified if he found out I was watching him at such an intimate moment. Touching myself would just make it worse. But he looks so beautiful -- completely clothed with just his zipper flapped open. I can see him cradling his testicles with one hand inside his jeans while the long fingers on his other hand are wrapped around his penis, pulling and squeezing, guiding himself toward the ultimate pleasure -- Stop it, Dana! Leave! Just turn around and get out of here right now, before you do something worse than behaving like a peeping tom. He never has to know -- "God! Sc...Sc...Scully yeah Scully yes fuck YEAH." OhGodohGodohGodohChrist. He called my name. He was masturbating and thinking of me and he came. His body shook and he came all over his shirt and his hand and oh dear God he called out my name. Shit. Dammit to hell. I have to leave. I have to. This very minute. Where are my keys? Got to get out of here. Hurry. Get to the car and just leave. Don't ever mention it. But how will I get that picture out of my mind? Don't think about it. Find the keys and open the door before -- ~jingle clink~ "What the --? Scully?" Oh damn. I shouldn't have done that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author's notes before the howling begins: The dear Lord willing and the creeks don't rise, there will be a third story to present the big ~ahem~ climax. Good thing I live on a hill. Of course, I *am* just across the street from a very large river. Y'all keep your fingers crossed that it doesn't rain a lot. Challenge elements: A voyeur -- double voyeurs, double check. A search -- well, Mulder did search her closet. A fear of clowns -- Scully checks to the man with the red nose. A stalker -- sorta check, cause that's how Mulder thinks he's behaving and Scully thinks she's creeping. I'll bet you're wondering about the titles. Well, you know how people say "My pleasure" when you thank them for something? And a lot of times you answer "Likewise"? That's where they came from. It made sense at the time. Honest. I like to use titles that have more than one meaning. And as it happens, this is also *my* particular guilty pleasure. I suppose that might be TMI, but you did ask. Oh. You didn't ask? Sorry about that. Feedback: mimic1172@gmail.com