========================================================================== NOTICE: - Deslea's URL is now http://www.deslea.com or http://fiction.deslea.com. - Email address is now firstname.lastname@example.org. - May be archived by Scully/Skinner specialty archives only. This information supercedes all other information found in this file. ========================================================================== Someone I Trusted *R* 1/1 Deslea R. Judd email@example.comfirstname.lastname@example.org DISCLAIMER This work is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. All characters mentioned remain the intellectual property of those parties and are used without their consent and without commercial gain. Spoilers: Blessing Way. Category: Vignette, Romance-ish (ie erotica) (Scully/Skinner). Rating: R for sex and a couple of naughty words. Some possibly disturbing imagery of eroticism and guns. Summary: When Scully pulls a gun on Skinner, trust becomes something fluid. Alternate scene within Blessing Way (the Reservoir Dogs-esque scene with Scully and Skinner holding guns on one another). A little note: The whole idea of this vignette is that Scully has, under the stress of continual threats to her life, completely lost it and thrown caution to the wind. Don't you do the same. AIDS ain't likely to hit a fictional character whose existence is tied to a million dollar contract, but real people aren't so lucky. Fan mail is always appreciated!!! My e-mail is email@example.com OR firstname.lastname@example.org. Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let me know. This and my other stories may be found at http://home.primus.com.au/drjudd (shameless plug). Someone I Trusted *R* 1/1 Deslea R. Judd email@example.comfirstname.lastname@example.org Copyright 1997 Scully pulled out her keys and turned one over, revealing a label. //Mulder//, Skinner noted over her shoulder, wondering not for the first time if they were having an affair. Calmly, she unlocked the door to Mulder's apartment and opened it. "After you," she said tightly. //I don't have a good feeling about this//, he thought, but he complied nonetheless. He trusted her - didn't he? He heard the click of a safety catch being flicked off, and froze. "Eyes forward. Put your hands where I can see them," she said cooly. "Don't turn around or I'll blow your head off." There was a sound, and the light flicked on. "Don't think I won't do it, you son of a bitch." Even as he assessed the situation at lightning speed, Skinner did as he was told. "No, I believe you. Stay cool, I'm with you." He had never been so frightened in his life. He knew she had to believe she was in danger from him to pull such a stunt. Indeed, he could sense her terror - would have sensed it in the car if he hadn't been so busy inhaling her scent. That terror made her dangerous - very dangerous. There was something else, too: Never before had he had an enemy who he considered his equal. He shivered involuntarily. "Take two steps forward." Skinner complied. Scully stepped forward, shutting the door behind them. He felt her brush against him, and tensed, swallowing hard. He was suddenly, agonisingly aware of a battle of wills between two equally primal instincts: survival, and - and - //Dear God, he was turned on.// Her proximity, the danger, her assertiveness, the fact that she held his life in her hands all combined to create a kernel of desire even in his terror - that, and the fact that he thought, had always thought, she was the most stunning woman on earth. He rolled his eyes, mentally chastising the tightening in his groin for its timing, and vaguely registered her telling him to go to the couch. He obeyed, his breath coming in short gasps. Scully turned on the light behind him. His brow furrowed at the sight of the x taped to the window. That meant Mulder was still tied up with that informant of his...that worried him. Scully's voice came from behind him. "Now turn around slowly and sit on your hands." Skinner complied, watching her warily. She threw down her bag and passed him, her shadow passing over him. She faced him. He spoke. "Are you going to let me tell you why I'm here?" Her voice was cold. "I know why you're here. I want to know who sent you...whose errand boy you are." She spoke contemptuously, and Skinner flushed, suddenly affronted, the same way he had been when she threw that cheap crack about him overestimating the extent of his command. But now defending himself wasn't about asserting his role in the chain of command. It was about survival. "No-one sent me," he said simply. There was a flicker of movement in her throat and her eyes and the lines of her jaw. She wanted to believe, he could see that. She slowly sat down in the chair in front of him. And then she spoke, her voice cold once more. "You've got the rest of your life to give me answers." Skinner stared at her, paralysed momentarily by fear and indecision. She was so damn scared she probably wouldn't believe him anyway. He had to find a way to get out his weapon, to get away, anything...and the first step in that would have to be banishing all consciousness of the tightening in his groin. Because he could sit there and allow the painful pleasure of it to cushion him from the fear, to comfort him and make him feel giddy and safe...and if he did that, if he allowed himself to be diverted from the business of survival, he would die. Scully suddenly noticed the bulge in his pants, and smiled to herself. //Typical male//, she thought with a shadow of contempt. //Imagine getting off on-// She stopped mid-thought, suddenly identifying the frission that had passed through her as she had pulled the gun on her boss. She grimaced. For heaven's sake, what was she thinking? Just when she most needed to keep her head, too. But...//Oh, what the hell. I'll probably be dead within the week...I deserve a little fun.// She rose. "You enjoying this, Skinner?" she demanded, a faint curl at the corners of her mouth. She stood before him, bent one stocking-encased leg and rested it between his legs, her knee just nudging his groin. He stared at her in stunned confusion. Her voice grew deeper, breathier. "Are you afraid of me, Skinner?" she asked piercingly. Warily, he nodded. Lower still, she breathed, "Do you want me?," rubbing her knee against his erection in tight little circles. Reluctantly, he moaned, arching his neck. "Oh, God," he breathed. "God help me, yes." Still holding the gun, she deliberately opened her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse with one hand. It fell open, revealing an ice blue satin bra. "Open it," she dared. She swung the gun slightly off target, just enough to let him know she wouldn't force him. Self defence was one thing, but Scully wasn't about to rape a man she respected. Horrified, terrified, tantalised; he stared into her eyes, unable to decipher her motives. He raised his hands almost absent-mindedly and unfastened the hook in the cleft between her breasts, the tips of his fingers warm against the cool skin. Too cool. He realised she was as terrified of him as he was of her. And yet she let him do this to her, when he could so easily snap her neck in a single movement...why? His fingers brushed against her left breast, then cupped it in his hand, wanting to warm her as he caressed her. She smiled faintly as he ran his other hand down over her stomach, then up her side to her neck. He held it there, loosely around her throat for a long moment. She drew in her breath inaudibly, but he continued to her chin, and grazed her jawline, cupping her cheek in his hand with sudden tenderness. She wiped away a trickle of perspiration from his temple, acknowledging his fear with a sympathetic little smile without attempting to assauge it. She leaned forward, her breasts over his face. Almost against his will, he leaned up and took one in his mouth, the flesh warm and soft. He almost forgot the danger, although there was a part of his mind that reminded him with feverish glee/terror that she could kill him at any moment. He became aware of her hand between his legs, unzipping him, her fingers slipping into his briefs and closing around his rock-hard cock. The gun was still aimed at him, her arm wide so that he couldn't get it. She knew just what she was doing, the feverish voice said. His back stiffened as she began to slowly pull and stroke him. He closed his eyes. "Oh," he moaned, wondering if he was going insane. She could kill him, she had a gun, and he was trusting her to touch him at his most vulnerable - was he out of his mind? the rapidly diminishing rational part of him screamed even as he reached forward between her legs. He suddenly had a mental image, as though he were viewing them from outside. He imagined her standing in front of him, leaning forward with her breast in his mouth, stroking him with one hand, her gun in the other, her short skirt hiked up around her thighs as he stroked her through the wet satin that he just knew was ice blue like her bra, looking for all the world like some law enforcement-world dominatrix. Alongside this image was one that he had long cherished, of mounting her on top of his desk at the Bureau. The irony of the tables turned, her dominating him as he had often imagined doing to her...it petrified him and aroused him in turn. He could feel his cock throbbing between her palms. His fingers were shaking, and it was all he could do not to rip her panties and plunge them into her warm depths, or increase their speed and make her cry out with desire. But he wouldn't give her that satisfaction...not yet. Instead, he traced the outline of her labia through the satin (//ice blue satin, ice blue satin,// the feverish voice chanted, and he wished he could smack it in the mouth) with a light brushing touch, then parted her lips, the fabric still stretched over them. He heard her give a ragged gasp and she drew away involuntarily, then pressed down against his fingers once more. He smiled approvingly to himself. He pressed his fingers through the wet satin into her flesh, finding her hardened clitoris by touch, and rotating it with his fingertip with excruciating slowness. He kissed her between her breasts, reaching around with his free hand and slipping it into her panties, caressing her firm round buttocks with a fleeting image of entering her from behind. Scully was shivering with suppressed desire. She couldn't let go as she desperately wanted...it was too dangerous. But...oh, his hands...they roamed her body, her breasts, her stomach, her hips, her ass, her most secret places, possessing her...for all the times she had thought of this - of //him// - she had never dreamed he could do this to her, could make her so hot and wet deep inside, could make her want him like she'd never wanted anyone in her life. She shuddered in sudden climax, then came back as hot and hard and fast as she had been before it, wanting more, taking more. Even in her own conflict, her own fear, her mouth twitched with amusement at the conflict she could sense behind those closed eyes. For her part, she was incredibly turned on - had been since the moment she'd cocked her gun (//no pun intended,// her mind punctuated). Holding a gun on her boss, and a damn good-looking boss at that, had set the scene for this. His erection had galvinised her into action. She had planned to tease him, nothing more; but his unwilling excitement at her minstrations even as she trained the gun on him made her feel warm and moist inside, made her part her legs involuntarily long before he reached between them. That was when she had passed (to her) the point of no return, and unzipped him. Crazily, the twin hardness of his cock in one hand and her gun in the other aroused an image of her doing this to Mulder and Skinner simultaneously. //Mulder.// The grief rose within her thick and fast, and she suppressed it. Suddenly hungry for human warmth, anything to assauge her pain, she hiked up her skirt and pulled his hands away from between her legs. Ripping her panties aside, she straddled him. His hands flew automatically to her hips, and she lowered herself onto his cock, engulfing him with a single movement. He could feel her warm muscles closing and tighening around him and the tattered remains of wet satin at the base of his cock, could feel the slippery fabric rubbing against his balls as he pushed himself into her. //I should have used a condom. How? If I'd gone to get one from my bag, assuming it's not past its expiry date, he'd have gotten his gun and killed me. Fat lot of good safe sex would do me then. What are you, Scully? Suicidal?// Banishing these thoughts, which for all their logic seemed ridiculous given she had a life expectancy of maybe age 35, assuming she survived the week, Scully returned her attention to the man beneath her. She rotated her hips, moving his cock around and around in little circles with her body, pushing down hard on him, sheathing him to the hilt. She could feel the throbbing inside her, the clenching as she tried to make herself even more aware of that thick presence that filled her. He leaned forward and buried his face in her breasts, felt her bring one arm around his shoulders in what seemed like a warm gesture. He arched his back, pushing even deeper into her as he felt his orgasm approach. She was grinding down on him in a frenzy, her breathing ragged and gasping as she built towards her own crushing climax. She felt the slight constriction of his cock as he reared back and filled her, and she clenched him, milking him. Seconds later, she came, spasms racking her body as she slumped on top of him with a cry of release. They stayed like that for a long moment, and then Skinner kissed her neck with sudden tenderness. She brought a hand around and lazily played with the short hair at the back of his head. She still trained the gun on him, but without conviction. But when she felt him fade away inside her, she lifted herself off him, and that was when she became conscious of her vulnerability. She stepped away and tightened her hold on the gun, straightening her skirt with her free hand. Skinner looked at her, saddened. Had he dared hope this meant she believed him? No. But...he'd wished it. He averted his gaze and tucked himself back into his trousers, her scent still drifting into his nostrils. She attempted to fasten her bra with one hand, then discarded the plan as too difficult. She buttoned her blouse over her naked breasts. He could feel himself growing hard again at the sight of her nipples poking through the soft cotton. //Down, boy; I think that's it for today,// he told himself. "How high does it go, Skinner?" she asked softly, buttoning her jacket. "Who's pulling the strings?" "You can kill me, Scully, but you'll only be doing their work for them. Forget about your job, family; you'll spend the rest of your life behind bars. There isn't a Federal judge they couldn't persuade." Skinner's voice was soft, persuasive. Scully's lips parted slightly. She breathed out shakily. "What's the alternative? Let you kill me now?" "I didn't come here to kill you. I came here to give you something." She regarded him with suspicion. Just then, she felt moisture - his moisture - between her thighs. "Yeah, you gave me something, all right," she retorted. Skinner glared at her with sudden fury. Damn it, she was still wet for him, still shuddering from him inside her. Why were women so damn changeable? "I seem to recall that it was your idea, Scully." He sighed, collecting himself. More calmly, he admitted, "I've got the digital tape." "You're lying," she accused. "I've got it in my pocket. I took it out of Mulder's desk." Scully's eyes widened. Suddenly, there were footsteps outside the apartment, and Scully glanced away at the shadow beneath the door. Seeing his chance, Skinner whipped out his gun, leaping up. Seeing him from the corner of her eye, she did the same on reflex. Aware of her mistake, Scully's gaze flew back to him in horror. //Fuck it, why didn't I get it from him? Too damn busy jerking him off? You stupid, stupid girl!// She held her gun with a lightning grip, horrified. They stood there for a long moment, stunned. Then Skinner shouted furiously, "What the fuck was that, Scully? Were you jerking my chain? Getting off on the power? Or just fucking with my head before you killed me in revenge for Mulder?" he spat. He was hurt. Had he enjoyed it? Fuck yes. But...it had been all wrong. "Drop your weapon! Put it down, Scully." "No way," she said in a low, ragged voice. He suddenly knew she was flying on sheer adrenaline...the adrenaline of fear, the adrenaline of ardour. That made her dangerous...//more// dangerous. "Put it down," he repeated warningly. "I said no!" she screamed. "You're setting me up!" "I'm here to help you," he said through gritted teeth. "Then put your weapon down and sit down!" she demanded in fury. He looked at her with distrust. "Not a chance," he spat. Dismayed and frightened, she shouted, "You said you weren't here to kill me, Skinner; now prove it!" "I didn't come to have a gun shoved in my face, either." //Or to have you fuck with my head along with my body, you bitch,// he thought bitterly. His body still throbbed for her, and now it stung with the pain of betrayal. "Dammit, Skinner-" And then Mulder burst in. They both stared at him, thunderstruck. "Drop your weapon!" he yelled at Skinner. "Back off," Skinner ordered. He knew a no win situation when he saw one. Authority was his only lever. Mulder was having none of it. "I said drop it!" Scully stared at him, her eyes shining. "Drop it!" "What is this? What are you trying to pull?" Skinner demanded, never taking his eyes from Mulder. Mulder ignored him. "You okay Scully?" "Yeah," she said breathlessly. "Get his gun," he said. Still staring at him, she held out her hand to Skinner. Skinner made no move to give it to her. "Give it to her," Mulder instructed. Skinner stared at Mulder mutinously. "Give it to her!" Outnumbered, Skinner raised his hand in surrender and did as he was instructed. "All right." "Now I want an explanation," Mulder demanded. "I was warned someone would kill me," Scully said. Then, more quietly, "Someone I trusted." She looked at Skinner, then averted her gaze. Skinner stared at her in realisation. He had had it all wrong. She had had so much more to lose than him...her control, and possibly her life. She had been far more vulnerable than him...and yet she had done it. //That// was why she'd done it - because even in her fear, at some level she trusted him. //Oh, Scully, I'm sorry. I misjudged you.// He looked away, ashamed. Suddenly aware that Mulder was watching them, he came to himself. "I am going to reach into my coat pocket and end this charade once and for all." Mulder nodded slightly for him to go ahead. He removed the data tape. "I presume you both know what this is?" Scully's eyes met his, aghast. //He really wasn't here to kill me,// she realised. She breathed out, suddenly aware of an ache in her chest that had been there since she had suspected him. Had that been the real reason she had given herself to him? she wondered. Had it been a test? //Fuck it, who knows. It's over.// Skinner looked back at Mulder. "Now I want an explanation." Mulder snapped, "Your cigarette smoking friend killed my father for that tape, and then he killed me." Skinner looked confused. "What do you mean?" "I was a dead man," Mulder said, knowing his cryptic words were annoying the fuck out of Skinner and enjoying it immensely. "Now I'm back." Skinner raised an eyebrow but decided not to pursue this unpromising line of enquiry. "What is on this tape?" "Defence department files that weren't supposed to exist," Mulder charged. "The truth about our government's involvement in a global conspiracy of silence about the existence of extra terrestrial life." Scully spoke. "Give me the tape." Skinner shook his head. "Uh-uh, this tape stays with me." Mulder cocked his gun. "Give her the tape." Skinner stood his ground. "If what you say is true, then the information on this tape is valuable enough to kill for. And it's the only leverage we've got to bring these men to justice." He reasoned, "It's not going to do us any good if it falls back into their hands." Mulder lowered his gun. "Then you'd better make sure it doesn't." He turned. "Let's go, Scully." "Where?" she breathed, as if she cared. "There are truths out there that aren't on that tape." With that, Mulder walked out. Scully followed him with her eyes for a moment, then turned to Skinner. She held out his gun. He met her gaze for a long moment, then took it. "Scully?" he said tentatively. She raised an eyebrow in question. "Do you trust me still?" She turned away and walked out. His shoulders slumped at her non-answer, which could only mean no, and he looked down at his hands. That was when he realised she had answered him after all. //She had turned her back on him as he held his gun.// Smiling to himself, he switched off the light, and walked out. THE END Coming soon: Two independent sequels: Someone I Trusted II: The MSR File, in which Mulder discovers what Scully has done in an alternate Paper Clip scene; and Someone I Trusted II: The SSR File, in which Scully and Skinner reunite in the desert in an alternate Paper Clip scene.