Title - Semper Ubi Sub Ubi Author - Cyra (ccontryman@ups.edu) Rating - NC-17 Classification - SR Spoilers - None Keywords - Mulder/Scully romance. Summary - Close encounters in small, dark spaces cause Scully's wardrobe to dwindle. Disclaimer - Yeah, I don't own them. Whatever. Archive - It's already been sent to Gossamer...others, go for it. Author's Note: This story was inspired by a scene from "Full Circle To The Truth II" by Des. I even paraphrased part of it - I hope she doesn't mind. Loose translation of title: "Always wear underwear." I basically made up that stuff about the batrhooms in the J Edgar Hoover Building. It sounded logical. Don't beat me up. Warning: Some disturbing themes dealing with dominance and alternative sex ahead. Proceed with caution. *** I'm not wearing any underwear. I think it's safe to say that this is the first time in my adult life that I have left my apartment without panties on. And it's completely deliberate, I assure you. Because I intend to seduce my partner today, and if I have to replace another pair of ruined underwear, I'm going to start putting it on my expense reports and that would not be good. The last time Mulder and I made love was in the handicapped bathroom of the J Edgar Hoover building. You see, the building was made before standards for handicapped access were in place, so the government converted some broom closets to handicapped bathrooms instead of gutting the existing ones. These bathrooms are the size of small storage rooms and have one facility inside. And a lock. The handicapped bathrooms are coed, so when Mulder walked down the hall nonchalantly and entered it, no one looked twice. Likewise when I did the same five minutes later. I barely had time to lock the door before Mulder slammed me up against the door, his lips unerringly finding mine. That's another advantage to making love in a bathroom - I can touch up my makeup and fix my hair before I leave our rendezvous. For this sort of thing is the only safe outlet Mulder and I have for our little...fixation. We can't make love in either of our apartments or in the office for fear of bugs and cameras. We can't make love in the field because we never know who has followed us to our destination. So we must take our opportunities where we see them. Public places, mostly, where there aren't likely to be surveilance cameras or peepholes. We once found ourselves fucking in our rental car in a parking garage in South Dakota, covered in a large blanket so that even if someone was watching, they couldn't get photographs. It adds to the high spontanaety of our relationship, you can imagine. And it makes me realize how incredibly horny Mulder can be. He sets up these meetings at least three times a week. And it makes me realize that I'm not as sexually stagnant as the rest of the world seems to think. That time, he sent me the message in my morning muffin. I was suspicious when, upon arriving at work, Mulder bestowed a cup of gourmet coffee and a blueberry muffin on me, smiling wickedly. Until I unwrapped the breakfast confection and found Mulder's handwriting on the wrapper, instructing me to meet him in the handicapped-access bathroom down the hall at 11:45. I immediately ripped the wrapper into tiny pieces, as much to dispose of the evidence as to alleviate some of the anxiety that was already welling up in me. It was 8:36 at the time. In that bathroom, Mulder introduced me to the wonderful world of perversity. Up until that time, we had had intense but somewhat traditional sex. As soon as the door was locked, my skirt was around my ankles and my nylons and panties were ripped to shreds. He thrust himself into me, then moved me over to the sink and sat me down on it. He took my ankles, which were locked around his waist, and placed them on his shoulders. And as he fucked me, he slipped a long, tapering finger inside my other opening, which caused me no small amount of shock but did produce the greatest orgasm of my life. That was my first experience with anal sex. Afterwards, he kissed me penitently. "Did I hurt you?" He whispered, stroking my face. I blinked at him, dazed. "Mulder," I said in a high, thin voice. "You can hurt me anytime you like." Mulder laughed, lowering my legs. He gathered up my nylons and panties, flushing red as he assessed the damage. "Mulder, I never knew...why have you never done that to me before?" He smiled and used my useless panties to clean me up a little. "I lost control, Scully. I've never done things like that before because I'm afraid of scaring you. You...don't mind?" "Do I look like I mind?" I murmured, twining one hand around his neck to pull his lips down to mine. "I think these will be okay for the rest of the day," I said, retrieving my nylons. "The panties are a lost cause, though. I'd appreciate having some underwear that aren't being held together by safety pins, Mulder." His eyes smoldered into mine as he brought the lingerie under discussion to his face, breathing them in deeply, and pocketed them. "Don't let anyone else see those," I warned. "I would never," he whispered, kissing me once more, and left quickly to allow me time to pull myself together. This time, we are in a storage room in the courthouse. I was walking down the hall on my way to a judge's office when a hand snaked out of a partially opened doorway and pulled me inside. He muffled my scream with his hand and lifted me to wrap my legs around his waist. "You scared me," I whisper as I thrust my fingers into his hair and kiss him roughly. Usually, he gives me some sort of warning, even if in the form of a covert feel. I tense in anticipation as I percieve Mulder pushing my skirt up around my waist and his nails scrabbling at my hips to find the waistband of my nylons and my panties - to find nothing. Confused, he leans back. I can see his breathing stop for a second as he realizes that I'm wearing a garter belt with stockings and my panties are conspicuously absent. "I was tired of replacing my lingerie," I tell him in the low, throaty voice that he calls my "come-hither voice". "You've been like this all day?" He asks, running his hands over my bare hips. "Yes." "Don't do that again, Scully," he said intently, his features turning hard. "Mulder?" I panted. "Don't do it again. I'm warning you," he said harshly. "Why?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to try to make up for whatever I did to make him so angry. He pinned me to the wall with his hips and worked at his zipper, keeping his eyes on mine deliberately. "Because if I know that you are not wearing underwear, I don't care where we are or who we're with, you will be flat on your back." "And...?" I asked, unbelievably aroused. "I will fuck you. Again and again." As if to prove his point, Mulder pushed into me with savage intent. My head rolled back on my neck and I moaned. Mulder fucked me like he would an unwilling whore, pushing up into me so hard that I could feel him against my cervix. It should have hurt; probably it would hurt later, but for now all I could feel was hot pleasure. "I'll make you regret it if you ever...do that again, Scully," he panted into my ear. "You belong to me. Do as I say." After I came, he continued thrusting into me, searching for his release, and I took the time to catch my breath and whisper into his ear. "I'm tired of fucking you in the shadows...I want to see you laying in my bed, I want to be able to scream as loud as I want... take care of it, Mulder. Next time will be in my bed." "Yes," he whispered harshly. "I'll take care of it." Anything to keep me receptive to him. Mulder would bemoan this promise in a few minutes, but I will be adamant. We are going to make love, he and I, not fuck like animals with desparation and furtiveness. It will require some very sophisitcated surveillance blocking, and a well-thought out plan, but he will take care of it. Mulder shuddered against me for a few minutes after he exploded inside me, and it took me a while to realize that he was crying. "Mulder?" I kissed him softly, all over his face, running my hands over his neck and shoulders comfortingly. "I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." I stroke him, trying to bring him down from this post-coital anxiety attack. "I never should have said those things to you." I know what he is referring to. "Don't worry, Mulder. I understand." And I do. It is always thus with him; desire comes upon him suddenly, so suddenly and intensely that he cannot deny it for more than a few hours - only long enough to plan a rendezvous in a safe, dark place. And it is only after his release that he is human again. Until then, he is feral, dark, savage - I am his mate, and he keeps me submissive until reason comes back. Invevitably, he is sorry. In the handicapped bathroom, his apology was a simple, sweet kiss, and that was enough. This time, he is heartbroken. "Scully...you do things to me." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I see you do something...you turn on your heel or you get into a car or you look at me, and I'm on fire. I can't stop it." "I wouldn't want you to," I soothe him. "And I say things I don't mean...I would never punish you, Scully. I would never assume that you are my property." I know better. In the heat of the moment, Mulder *would* punish me, but not with blows. He would deny me my release for as long as it took for me to knuckle under, or he would berate me verbally until I was sobbing, ready to do whatever necessary to make him happy with me. And he *does* assume that I am his property, all the time, even now that he is practically at my feet, begging forgiveness. That is the trouble with being in love with someone like Mulder. He is all hot and cold, soft and hard, dominant and submissive. I know how to deal with it. "Make it up to me, Mulder," I whisper as I rearrange our clothing. "One week from tomorrow. My apartment. Soft sheets and music. Make love to me slow and gentle and deep, and then fall asleep beside me and stay there until morning." I kiss his forehead. "Do whatever you have to to make it safe." Mulder swallows, his mind already working. He nods. "And keep Frohike out of it." He laughs a little, kissing my fingers. "Scully, can I ask something?" "Yes?" "Have you ever come to work without underwear before?" "No." I smile. "And I never will again, if you don't want me to." "Thank you," he lets the words out on a sigh. "I don't think I could handle it." Finis