Target Practice

by Amy Mahn

What the fuck am I doing here?

I sit at the bar, thinking about what a colossal waste of time this is, slamming down yet another vodka tonic.  DefCon.  Why do I always get stuck with these shit babysitting jobs?  I mean, it's not like anything actually happens here.  I could teach these government contractors a thing or two about national defense, including the myriad ways to buy, sell, or steal it.  But now is not the time or place.  I am here because I was ordered to be here; that doesn't mean I'm going to just sit around waiting for nothing.  I throw a wad of bills on the bar and the bartender nods in appreciation.

Hey, I may be a lying, murdering thief, but I'm not cheap.

I pull my jacket on and turn to leave just as a disturbance from the other side of the room grabs my attention.  It's just some bimbo, surrounded by a flock of men panting after her like a bitch in heat.  My lip curls in disgust.  I like a good fuck as much as the next guy, but to fawn all over a woman like that, well, it's pathetic.  I shake my head and walk toward the door.  But the closer I get, the more familiar this particular bimbo looks to me.  Suddenly, recognition dawns on me.

Scully.  Shit.

It takes me a moment to pick my jaw up off the floor, and I close my mouth with an audible *snap.* I would ask myself what she is doing here, but by looking at her it's pretty clear just exactly what she's doing here.  Scully is bombed.  Not just tipsy, not even drunk.  She is circling the airport.  I have never seen Her Highness this out of control before, and for some reason, it fascinates me beyond belief.  The men that are surrounding her, pressing in from all sides, are typical government employee types; white-collar starchy bastards with more ego than brains.  Christ, half of them are probably married.  I make up my mind in that instant - I'm gonna go have some fun. I wonder for the space of one heartbeat whether she'll recognize me.  She might, but as wasted as she is, I don't think it will occur to her that she is supposed to hate me.  At least I hope it won't, as much as I'm hoping that she's not armed.  I shrug and stride over to her, tugging the collar of my black leather jacket up around my neck.  I make my expression dark and menacing, although it's all I can do to keep from laughing as one man after another sees me coming and suddenly thinks of something urgent that he needs to be doing - in another part of the hotel.  Fuckin' cowards, I think to myself. Scully seems to finally notice that she has lost her audience, and sits perched on the pool table with her legs swinging back and forth, frowning down into her half-empty highball glass.  I approach her cautiously, my eyes wary for any sign of Mulder.  But I doubt she would be in this condition if he were here.  She suddenly looks up at me and smiles brightly.  "Hi there, cutie!"  she giggles.  My glare falters, and I nearly stumble at her choice of words.  Cutie?  Christ on a crutch, she's sooo gone.  "Help me down from here, wouldja?  I'm kind of.um.not tall," she reaches out both hands as if she expects me to pick her up like a child.  And I'll be damned if I don't find myself doing it before I can even think about it.  She weighs less than I expected, and I swing her around to the floor easily.  But as soon as her feet touch ground, she loses her balance and falls into my chest.  I tighten my grip around her waist, but she just cackles and leans into me.

"Thanks, Kryshek," she slurs, and I am surprised that she recognized me.  "You're so sweet."  I can't seem to keep my jaw off the floor tonight.  She's going to be the death of me yet, I can just feel it.

"Scully, you're drunk," I comment as casually as I can manage.  She shakes her head wildly, losing her balance again in the process.  I catch her before she falls backward this time, and she hooks her arms loosely around my neck.

"I am not," she protests, her eyes vague and unfocused.  "I'm just happy."  She proves her point by once again giggling like a teenager.  I grimace and try to keep her quiet, since several people in the bar have begun giving us curious glances.  I would just as soon keep a low profile, but with Buffy here hanging around my neck, that's damn near impossible.  I shift around until she's leaning against the pool table again, but she won't let go so I can step back.  Her grip tightens as I try to move away, until she's actually pulled me closer.  I can't fucking believe this is happening to me.  So much for an uneventful convention.  I need to get control here.

"So, why exactly are you so happy tonight?"  I ask, trying desperately to think of something intelligent to say.  But every thought in my head goes south when she leans forward and presses her lips against my ear.

"'Cause you're here."

It takes me more than a few seconds to process her words, since she decided at that moment to latch on to my earlobe and nibble it like a damn bunny.  My cock, already half-hard after just watching her, suddenly jerks at the stimulation.  I can't take this.  It's Scully, for fuck's sake.  But maybe that's just it.  Some twisted part of my psyche reminds me of the dreams that I've always had about her…  the ones where she's so uptight and prim, dressed in her FBI suits and her clunky heels; but I make her scream out my name over and over again.

Ok, so now is not the time to be thinking about those dreams, not when the real thing is tracing the tendons in my neck with the tip of her tongue and grinding against my leg until I'm afraid she's going to spontaneously combust.  Yeah, here's an unexplained mystery for you, Mulder.  Your stiff-assed little partner burst into flames tonight while she was riding my thigh like a racehorse.

There's a fucking X-File if I've ever seen one.

Scully seems to come to her senses, even if only for a moment, and raises her head to look around.  I wonder now if I'll see the fury she will feel at being taken advantage of, if I will feel the cold steel of her gun barrel pressed against my side.  But apparently she is still pretty far gone.  She pulls me down so I'm at her level and then proceeds to floor me by telling me that she wants to go to my room.  I stare at her, certain I heard her wrong.

"Alex, I want you."  Her voice is breathy and low, and it hits me right in the gut, or somewhere just south of it.  I don't have the presence of mind to question her motives.  Hell, I barely have the presence of mind to put one foot in front of the other as I guide her out the door and to the elevator.

Scully has resumed her assault as we ride up to my floor, now she has taken the liberty of untucking my t-shirt, and she is tickling me with her fingernails.  She makes slow, lazy circles around my nipples, then traces the ridges of my rib cage, and I am pretty sure at this point that I have forgotten my name.  It takes me a few moments to realize that the doors have opened and we are on my floor, and I flush when I notice the group of people waiting to get in the elevator.  I give a crooked smile and wink as I herd Scully past them, muttering something about "Newlyweds."

It takes several aborted attempts to unlock the door, since every time I get the key out and in place, she does something to distract me.  Finally, in spite of her little hand working its way down into the pocket of my jeans, I manage to line up key and hole and get the goddamned thing open.  She follows me through the door, still in my pocket, where she has apparently found something entertaining to play with.  I throw my head back as she wraps that warm hand around my cock, and though her movements are limited within the tight confines of my jeans, I feel her nimble fingers working me slowly.

"Ah, fuck, Scully, what are you doing to me?"  I hear myself groan, and she buries her face against the back of my neck and bites softly.  "I'm taking what I want.  what I need," she whispers against my ear.  "Fuck me."

It takes seconds to strip her, as pliant as she is, and I have her laid out on the bed before she knows what hit her.  I struggle briefly with my own clothes, cursing violently at the knots in my bootlaces and nearly removing vital organs when I get a little hasty with my zipper.  Fuck, I feel like a teenager again, desperate for my first piece of ass.  I slow down, draw in a deep breath, and look down at Scully.  She gives me a slight smile and reaches a hand up to me, waiting for me to come to her.  Here in the dark, naked and vulnerable, she is painfully small and fragile-looking.

The thought almost makes me laugh out loud.  Scully, fragile?

Don't be a dumb shit, I think to myself.  This woman could plant a bullet between your eyes from fifty yards without blinking.  But that's part of her charm.  (Yeah, I know, call me a sick fuck.  Girls with guns turn me on.) She is so tough, such a hard ass most of the time; but she never lets you forget that she can be soft, that there is a real woman beneath all the professional trappings.

And right now I want to be inside that real woman more than I want my next breath.  I tug my jeans off and crawl up onto the bed beside her.

God, this is like a wet dream come true.  She is so small next to me; I could almost lose her in this huge bed if I'm not careful.  I feel her arms come around me, and her hot breath against my cheek sends little tremors down my spine.  She plays with the hair at the nape of my neck and slowly shifts one leg out of the way so I can settle fully between her thighs.

The heat of her arousal sears my flesh, and I am amazed at how wet she is already.  I press against her, gently at first and then with more force as she grinds her hips up against me.  I don't want this to go so fast.  I don't know when I'll ever have this opportunity again, and I'm damn sure going to savor it while I can.

Scully apparently has other plans, because she is trying like hell to maneuver herself into a position where my cock will slip into her.  She is contorting herself almost ridiculously to find satisfaction, but I'm not going to make this easy on her.  Uh uh, Scully.  Not that easy.  I slide down the length of her body, and without warning, press a hard, smacking kiss on her clit.  She gives a wail and nearly comes off the bed.  Shit, you're sensitive, aren't you, Agent Scully?  I ease off a little and run my tongue experimentally across the taut little bud, feeling her shudder in response.  A little harder, and I hear the groans that escape her.  It's tricky, sometimes, finding the right pressure and angle, but Scully seems to be a pretty straightforward girl.  Until I slide a finger deep inside of her.

She screams.

Scully screams my name.

I can die now.

She is clenching and convulsing, and all I did was finger fuck her a little.  God, this is gonna be good.

I wait for her to come back into herself, and then pull my finger back out of her.  Another loud groan, and she shivers slightly.  This woman is wired for sound, that's all I can figure.  How the hell does someone this sexual live for so many years without it?  I know she and Mulder haven't.  well, they haven't, and after spending hours and hours doing surveillance on her, I know she's not getting it anywhere else, either.  What a waste.  good thing I'm here to make use of all this sexual energy.  I know just what to do with it.

I shift myself back up so that I'm on top of her again, and lavish some attention on her breasts.  They're nice; not as small as I would have thought, having only seen them tucked away in those godawful suits.  Hell, Marilyn Monroe could seem asexual in one of those costumes Scully wears to work.  No, Scully's breasts are peaches and cream, and just the right size to fit in the palm of my hand.  Perfect.  And her nipples are almost as sensitive as her clit.

I nibble at them with my lips, flicking and teasing with my tongue, and she writhes beneath me, grabbing at my head until I'm seeing stars from the grip she has on my hair.  I never expected this kind of reaction from her.  She is a fuse, waiting to be lit, and it's a good thing for me I've got my lighter handy.

I reach a hand down and slick my fingers through her moist heat, then trace delicate circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs, massaging in rhythm with the flicks of my tongue, and she is crying out again as she arches up into my hand.  I hold her there for a moment, suspended, but she seems to have decided that enough is enough.

I find myself roughly flipped over onto my back, and Scully pounces on me like a cat.  Strong thighs grip my sides; she lifts herself up and prepares to settle onto my cock.  Something in the back of my mind shakes me, and I stop her for a moment.

"Scuh.Scully?  Protection?"  I manage to groan, but she glares at me through a curtain of tousled red hair.

"Fuck it."  she growls, and takes me into herself completely with one swift motion.

Jesus H.  Motherfucking Christ.  I think the top of my head just blew off.  Her inner muscles are squeezing, so tight, so hot, I don't know why I haven't come already.  It's a damn close thing.  There are no coherent thoughts now as she starts to move on my cock; just the near-painful friction she is creating with every motion, her nails scraping my chest and her head hanging down.  But as she sets up a rhythm, her hands brace her weight instead, and she tips her chin up so I can see her face.  God, she is a picture, her head thrown back and her eyes closed, breasts swaying with the movement of her hips.  I reach up and caress the pale skin of her stomach, her breasts, her shoulders, just touching her wherever I can reach.

Scully seems to be tiring quickly, so I reach up and pull her down so her head falls into the hollow of my neck.  Then I wrap my arms around her and hold her hips while I make slow, leisurely thrusts up into her.

This angle is obviously a good one for her; she gives a low, throaty cry with every movement.  It doesn't take long for her to start grinding her pelvis down onto mine, but it doesn't seem to be enough.  She lifts her head and looks deep into my eyes, and I roll with her until she is beneath me once more.  I can't help it now, I'm losing control and I don't know how much longer I can hold out.  She's everywhere, squeezing and slick and I'm apologizing for not being able to go slow anymore.  But she catches my chin in her hand and kisses me roughly - the first time our lips have ever touched, I realize, and then she presses her forehead against mine.

"Just fuck me, Krycek."

The magic words.

I let go of the iron grip I have kept on myself, and I start thrusting into her welcoming heat, feeling her inner walls gripping me tighter and tighter as she gets closer to coming.

I am babbling now, broken phrases in a bizarre mix of English and Russian, but I don't think Scully cares.  Her whole body has suddenly gone rigid, and she is fluttering around me like a thousand butterflies, the pressure of her climax feels like a velvet fist on my cock.

She has a look on her face that I could only describe as beatific.  I just watch her as she slowly surfaces; she smiles lazily up at me then, just before she grabs my hips and jerks me into her hard.  It's too much for my system to handle.  I manage to hold out for a few more strokes, until she whispers in my ear again.  "Fuck, Alex, you feel so good inside me.  Wanted you for so long."  I'm gone.

Some time later, I'm lying in an empty bed, feeling the space next to me as if it were an ocean.  She left.  Hardly a word spoken, she dressed and slid her shoes on, then leaned over to kiss me gently before she slipped out the door like a wraith.  That was the end.  Now I stare up at the ceiling, wondering where the evening went wrong.  I can't place the exact moment, but it was some time between 'hi there cutie' and 'fuck me.' I was having a nice, quiet drink at the bar, and my life was suddenly turned on its ear.  I may never get over tonight, and I'll certainly never be able to look at Scully in the same light again, but I think it was worth it.

And she never once tried to shoot me.

I guess that makes the evening a success.

Finis

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