table setting

Title: Unexpected
Authors: Unruhe and Lywendre
Rating: NC-17 And we mean it!
Disclaimer: We don't own them.
Category: S

Summary: Skinner visits Scully to look for Mulder on Thanksgiving day...

Authors' Notes: We know, we know - the characters are acting somewhat 'out of character.' Give 'em a break, it's been a long hard summer. It's the holidays. Let them enjoy themselves for a change! What we're trying to say here is that there is, in fact, no redeeming value to be found here. Think of this as a smut dish lightly sprinkled with 'plot'. Very lightly.

Please note: No cocker spaniels or spoons were harmed in the making of this fanfic. Thank you.


A bunched fist on the end of a heavy, muscular forearm pounded on the thick wood again. As before, there was no response. However, it was obvious that there were people home from the dull roar of the television and the scratching on the other side of the door.

Assistant Director Skinner let his mind wander as he waited for enough time to pass before knocking again. From the ineffectual, ignored whining, the animal registering his presence was probably a smaller breed. 'Why didn't they answer?' he thought again. Irrelevantly, he thought again about the dog. Probably had floppy ears and mournful, too-wet eyes, he thought. The balding Assistant Director stomped his booted feet impatiently on the concrete steps and watched his breath cloud in the cold. Finally, he knocked even more forcefully, rattling the door in its frame and sending the animal opposite into a paroxysm of loud whimpering.

The door swung open abruptly, ending his ruminations. Agent Dana Scully leaned against the door, grinning. Her cheeks were flushed, matching the rosy color of her sweater and skirt, and her eyes were lit with amusement. Until they saw him, that was.

The smell of turkey and assorted baked foods rolled from the doorway to assault his nostrils. Skinner wondered dimly when the last time he'd celebrated Thanksgiving was. Not since Sharon... he registered the bewildered expression on Scully's face and got down to business.

"Agent Scully."

"Sir," Scully's voice registered her surprise. "What's wrong? Has something happened to Mulder?" Registering the cold air, she caught herself. "Please, come in." Skinner complied.

As he stepped in, he saw a small, boneless lump of fur flop down in the middle of the living room. The cocker's wet eyes gleamed wimpily up at him from a safe distance away. Skinner stared his contempt at the dog, and fuzzy paws went to cover its muzzle. That's right, Skinner thought, you'd better hide. Then, at Scully puzzled look, he realized he was playing mind games with a dog. The holidays were already getting to him, he thought disgustedly, and it was only November.

"Sir, if there's something I should know-" Scully's voice was becoming slightly alarmed.

Skinner cleared his throat. "Well, actually, I was hoping you would have some idea of Mulder's whereabouts, Agent Scully."

Slowly, she closed the door and said, "The last thing he told me was that he would be spending Thanksgiving with his mother in Chilmark." Her forehead furrowed.

"Dana, honey, who was that at the door?" Dana's mother, Margaret, asked as she turned the corner from the kitchen. Still wiping her hands on her apron, she stopped abruptly when she saw the tall form of the Assistant Director of the FBI looming in her front hall. Since her daughter was obviously safe, standing right there in front of her, Margaret asked the only logical question, "What is it? What's happened to Fox?"

Since no one, even his partner, ever referred to the FBI's most troublesome Special Agent by his first name, it took Walter Skinner a moment to realize whom Mrs. Scully was asking about so worriedly.

Wishing once again that he'd never come, he raised his hands to try to calm the two women before him. "No. Nothing's happened to Agent Mulder. I needed to speak with him and when I couldn't contact either of you by phone, Agent Scully, I thought he might be spending the holiday here with you."

"Sir, like I said, he told me he would be heading up to Chilmark this morning."

Margaret interrupted what looked to be a long discussion with, "Mr. Skinner, won't you come in? There's no reason to stand in the hallway to talk."

Skinner tried to refuse with a polite, "No, thank you, Mrs. Scully. I shouldn't have bothered you with this. I'll just be on my-"

"Nonsense, Mr. Skinner. Here, let me take your coat." Before he knew what hit him, Skinner found himself divested of coat, gloves, scarf, and boots and was headed for a cup of coffee in the den to continue the discussion with the redheaded agent.

Dana settled down in the plush chair opposite her boss and curled her feet underneath her. Walter Skinner tried not to stare, but he'd never imagined the always so proper Agent Scully curling up in a chair like a cat. Feeling like an idiot, he sipped the freshly brewed coffee and tried to focus his thoughts.

The doorbell rang. The dog again skittered across the wooden floor of the hallway to investigate.

"Now who could this be?" Dana asked. "Excuse me, Sir," She exited to answer the door. Unlocking it, she pulled open the heavy door to reveal another tall figure stamping his feet on the front porch.

"Hey, Scully, it's me," said her partner, FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder, with a small grin as he handed her a bottle of wine.

The compact woman opened her mouth, balancing the large, foil-wrapped bottle in one hand. After a long, awkward silence, she closed her jaw with an almost audible snap and walked into the kitchen to deposit the wine.

The next sound in the hallway was of a wet throat clearing. "Well, Agent Mulder, what a coincidence." The tone in the AD's voice suggested that he was not a big fan of the phenomenon.

Mulder looked up from tugging at his wet gloves at Skinner.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Gloves in one hand, Mulder slipped out of his coat and casually hung it on the oak coat tree. As he hung it up, Skinner watched him, thinking.

"I was looking for you, actually. I wanted some confirmation on your expense report so I could clear my desk before the weekend." The ex-marine crossed his arms, making his tailored shirt stretch tightly over his chest. He glared at Mulder. An alligator ate his cell phone, indeed.

Mulder only nodded, much to Skinner's secret relief. The agent had been known to work straight through the holidays on occasion himself, and Skinner appreciated his lack of judgment. He fully intended to take the agent to task for the report, but he momentarily decided to bend to his surroundings. What the hell, the AD thought, it was Thanksgiving. Mulder could give thanks for keeping his hide. For a little while longer, anyway.


"Agent Scully was telling me you were going to your mother's for the holidays."

Mulder frowned. "No, I remember telling her that I was going to call my mother..." He frowned. "At least I don't think-" He stopped abruptly as Scully entered the hallway, trailed by Margaret.

Scully's mother beamed. "Mr. Skinner, I could have sworn I left you in the den. What am I going to do if I keep misplacing people like this?"

At Skinner's bewildered expression, Scully coughed lightly to let the serious AD know it was a joke. Finally, Skinner smiled, his forehead still furrowed.

Margaret tried again. "Fox, Mr. Skinner, everything will be ready in a just a few minutes. Why don't you both join us in the dining room in the meantime? We've set two extra places, you're both more than welcome." Seeing Skinner open his mouth to decline, she said tartly, "I will not listen to anything negative over the holidays. This means that you are forced to stay and celebrate Thanksgiving, Mr. Skinner."

At her tone, the AD allowed himself to relax slightly. "In that case, call me Walter." Mulder shot an incredulous glance at Scully, only to see her eyeing her boss with a look that could only be called appraising.

Skinner saw Mulder's smirk and eyed him pointedly. "I guess that means you're staying too, Fox." The older man placed unnecessary emphasis on the agent's first name.

Mulder took the hint and said with unexpected mildness, his cheeks coloring, "I guess I am, Sir." He knew better than to use 'Walter'.  If he did, Mulder had a feeling he would be hearing his first name all night. From Mrs. Scully, it was barely tolerable. From his boss...Mulder's thoughts trailed off as Scully gestured for the AD and her partner to precede her into the dining room.

On the way in, Scully allowed her eyes to trail down the starched white cotton shirt Skinner was wearing and back up again, admiring Skinner's musculature. It was rare that she'd seen him from this angle, and she decided that she liked the view. He had really nice, thick shoulders, she thought. Then, catching her thoughts, she decided she'd had too much wine. As Mulder and Skinner sat at the places her mother had set, she went to open another bottle.

Just then, either two low-flying jets or two speeding children zoomed into the dining room ahead of their slower moving parents. Whichever they were, the two objects dropped from light speed to a full stop, careening off the doorway and china hutch when they caught sight of the two strangers in the room.

Dana moved towards the two towheaded boys. "Ryan, Jason, come here. I'd like you to meet a couple of friends of mine." Shyly, they edged over to their Aunt Dana and peered up at the two tall men. "Say hello to my partner, Fox Mulder, and our boss, Mr. Skinner." Putting her hand on a shoulder in turn, she said, "Sir, Mulder, these are my nephews Ryan and Jason."

The taller boy, Ryan, approached the intimidating figure of Walter Skinner. With wide eyes, he bravely stuck out his hand and said, "How do you do, sir? Are you really Aunt Dana's boss? At the FBI?"

Skinner suppressed a smile as he gravely shook the small hand and said, "Hello, Ryan. Yes, I'm their boss." A little voice in the back of his head giggled hysterically. 'You're more like Pecos Bill riding a tornado!' it laughed. The Assistant Director ignored the little voice, just like always.

"Cool." Ryan turned to the other man. "Is your name *really* Fox?" he asked as he again extended his hand.

Solemnly, Mulder shook the offered hand and replied, "Yes, it is." Then he leaned closer and said, "but *you* can call me Mulder like your Aunt Dana does."

"Awright!" He bounced away.

Jason silently followed in his big brother's footsteps and shook hands with both Skinner and Mulder before retreating to the other side of the table where Ryan was standing.

Dana continued the introductions. "And this is my brother, Charlie, and his wife, Colleen." Charlie's red hair gave away his relationship to the petite FBI agent, while Colleen's pale blond hair stood out in this crowd. Smiling, they moved forward and greeted the two.

"It's good to meet you. We've heard so much about you both, it's nice to see you really do exist," Charlie joked.

Skinner's eyebrows shot up and Mulder grinned as they both looked at Dana. Blushing furiously, she gestured towards the table. "Let's all sit down, shall we? I'll just go help Mom...."

Colleen followed her sister-in-law into the kitchen, saying, "Here, let me help, too," leaving the men to their own devices. When she caught up to Dana in the kitchen, she whispered, "Lucky you. He's gorgeous."

Still blushing, Dana whispered back, "Mulder? I know."

"Not him, he's okay. I meant your boss. I wouldn't mind having to report to him!" she grinned.

"And what are you two whispering about over here?" Margaret Scully saved Dana from having to respond by handing Colleen and Dana two full serving dishes each before turning them around and pushing them back towards the dining room.

In the dining room, Charlie separated his two sons. "Jason, you'll sit here, next to me. And Ryan, you take that seat. You can sit next to Aunt Dana."

"Aw, Dad. Can't I sit next to Mulder?" he asked.

Mulder volunteered, "Why don't I just switch places with Aunt Dana. She'll sit over here, and I'll sit next to you, OK?" Both Ryan and Mulder looked to Charlie for a reaction. When he nodded his approval, both broke into big grins and Mulder moved to sit next to Ryan. Just then, the three Scully women entered carrying the serving dishes.

After finding room for the dishes on the table, Margaret moved to her place at the head of the table and Colleen moved next to Skinner, across from her husband. Dana took the only place remaining, between her mother and Walter Skinner, across from her partner, Fox Mulder.

Skinner stared at the spread almost with awe. It had been years since he'd celebrated Thanksgiving with more than a Hungry Man turkey meal promising extra white meat. Staring at the elaborate setup, complete with silver candle holders and long, harvest orange taper candles, Skinner decided he liked this version much better.

Margaret got up as quickly as she had sat down, emerging from the kitchen with the bottle of wine Mulder had brought. Quickly and efficiently, she moved around the table filling and replacing glasses. Once everyone except the two boys had a full glass of wine, the elder Scully woman grabbed a packet of long matches from a small table. With the ease of long practice, she lit the candles.

Charlie groaned, "Don't tell me you're going to get us soaked with alcohol and then expose us to an open flame. Is there something you want to tell us, Mom? I know Bill is your favorite, but since he's at sea, please let Dana and I live." He grinned mischievously. His sister grinned back at him, then raised an eyebrow at her mother.

"Oh, shush, Charlie. What nonsense." His mother's tone was fond. "Well, let's start passing around the food."

In a few moments, everyone's plate was full and the conversation had slowed considerably to accommodate eating.

Margaret restarted it by asking, "So, Fox, as many times as you've been in my home, I really have no idea what do you do when you're not out chasing criminals." She smiled at him in anticipation of being enlightened.

Scully struggled to keep herself from laughing out loud at Mulder's discomfiture. Her partner raised his wineglass to his lips to buy himself some time. Across the candlelight, he looked entirely different, Dana thought. Maybe it was the casual turtleneck and slacks she had noticed earlier. Then, Scully realized that she was staring. Quickly, she glanced to the side. It was then she noticed something else. She wasn't the only one staring. Skinner was staring at her over his own glass. It was an intense, unblinking stare, and he held it for a long moment after their eyes met. Finally, the AD broke away, and smiled across the table at Ryan. God, Scully thought, dazed. It was almost as if...

"I do a lot of reading. Not very exciting, I'm afraid, Margaret. The last real vacation I took was to Graceland, and that was almost a year ago." Mulder smiled at the older woman, looking like a little boy with his hair over his forehead.

"Mulder." Ryan said in a stage whisper, causing the whole table to look at him, "How old do you have to be to work for the FBI?"

Mulder reached over and ruffled the small boy's head. "Old enough to have finished school, anyway. I think you have a little time." Ryan frowned and turned back to his turkey. "But I'm sure if you wanted to, you could then." The agent added. The boy smiled, a little happier, and dug into his food with a vengeance, mirroring the others around the table.

Mulder smiled and looked over at Scully and Skinner. Scully was doing battle with a piece of dark meat, but Skinner was holding his wine glass thoughtfully and staring into the space over Mulder's shoulder. As soon as Mulder looked at him, the AD's eyes slid away.

Margaret kept him from thinking more about Skinner's strange reaction by pulling him into a conversation about Elvis. Leaning over the table, Colleen did likewise for Dana by asking her about the cities she'd been to on cases. By her tone, she made it clear she would be satisfied with nothing short than a complete run-down.

Scully shot a small grin at the sister-in-law as she finished chewing, letting her know that although she knew the real reason for the inane conversation, she didn't care. Colleen was using the opportunity to study Dana's boss more thoroughly. However, at the third question regarding the respective airport qualities in various cities, Scully decided she was going to have to change the subject before she fell asleep.

"So, when you were in Spokane, was that a *cold* place in the winter?"

Scully sighed, taking up a piece of cranberry sauce with a spoon.

Skinner, observing her reaction in his peripheral vision, stepped in and changed the subject.

"Colleen, I want to congratulate you on very well-behaved children. I don't think I've ever seen more polite boys."

Across the table, Ryan hissed at his brother. "Shut up, dillwad."

Jason returned in an equally low voice, "Up yours, Captain Wussy."

Colleen grinned, clearly delighted at Skinner's compliment to her parenting skills. She ignored the two boys with the ease of long practice, and took a sip of her wine.

Scully turned her attention away from the two as they continued talking. Taking the last bite of sauce off her plate, she sighed in contentment. Putting the utensil back down to meet the china, it slipped off the edge and out of range of her seeking fingers. Scully watched it drop beneath the tablecloth and under the table.

Cranberry on the dining room carpet. The carpet her mother just had replaced a few months ago in preparation for the holidays. She was going to so angry. Glancing around, Dana saw that everyone was looking elsewhere. Mulder was talking to her mom; the boys to each other; Skinner to Colleen and Charlie. She decided to quickly retrieve the utensil. Later on, at least the spoon would be gone, if not the stain. Less evidence was a good thing, Scully thought. And,
damn it, she should know.

Quickly, she slipped underneath the tablecloth. In the dim lighting, Scully reasoned, no one would notice she was gone until she reappeared. Underneath the table, she saw it, silver and traitorous.

It was resting squarely in the middle of the space between Skinner's shiny black shoes. With one lunge, Scully grabbed at it, and overbalanced. Frantically, she reached for something to purchase against. Anything to keep her from ending up prone underneath the table and noticed.

The only thing that presented itself to her questing hand and arm, though, was Skinner's thigh.

Mortified, Dana Scully froze. Her FBI training and years of experience battling mutants and conspiracies didn't offer any solutions to the compromising situation she found herself in. And she'd had just enough wine to quiet the little voice screaming in her head that this was a *bad* thing happening here.

Or, maybe she'd had too much wine. Blushing furiously, Dana suddenly realized she was glad she'd landed where she did. After admiring her reserved, handsome boss for three years, she now realized she found him *extremely* attractive. And the muscular, rock-hard thigh under her hand brought a sudden surge of warmth and arousal to her whole body. She'd always been a sucker for solidly built, muscular men - especially if they had good legs. And it felt like her boss had *great* legs.

Fortunately, Walter Skinner was neither eating nor drinking when the small, warm hand and arm first landed on his thigh. Otherwise, he might have choked or snorted turkey and cranberries out his nose in surprise at the unexpected, rather intimate touch on his upper thigh.

As it was, Skinner's usual nerves of steel were sorely tested as his mind processed the event and decided on a course of action - complete immobility. The stem of the wineglass in his hand almost snapped before Skinner's iron will clamped down on any visible reaction to what was happening under the table. He didn't want to explain it, but he really wanted to see what would happen next.

Surprised that her faux pas hadn't been revealed to the others, Dana wished she could see her boss' face to see his reaction. Of course, the fact that he hadn't reacted was a reaction in itself, if only she knew for sure what it meant. 'Oh, well,' Dana thought to herself, 'Granny always said, in for a penny, in for a pound, so I might as well enjoy myself as long as I'm here....' With that, she slammed the door on the voice of her conscience and crawled closer to place her free hand on Skinner's other thigh.

At the new touch, Skinner spread his knees further apart to allow her better access to the lower half of his body. Dana smiled as she realized she had the answer to her question. 'Within reach,' she realized as her smile grew to Cheshire Cat proportions.

Mulder glanced over and noticed that his boss had fallen silent, but he'd already heard more conversation from the man in the last 30 minutes than he'd heard in three years of working for him, so he didn't wonder about it. He continued to discuss the music of The King with Margaret Scully.

Colleen and Charlie were busy mediating an argument between Ryan and Jason, and so they didn't notice Walter Skinner's quiet stillness either.

And no one noticed the absence of a certain petite, redheaded FBI Special Agent.

Slowly, Scully slid her hand further up Skinner's thigh until her hand was just below the juncture of his noticeably hardening groin and upper thigh. She grinned even wider when she registered the involuntary twitching of her boss's long muscles underneath his dress slacks. Such control, Dana thought, resting her hand and sliding the other to mirror on the opposite thigh. Scully knew all about control.  She was familiar with the keeping and the letting go thereof, and she thought that she could help the AD learn as well.

Above the table, she pictured Skinner continuing with his meal...Suddenly, viciously, with her fingernails, she clawed his muscular inner thighs down toward his knees.

Skinner choked on a mouthful of wine and started coughing frantically in an attempt to clear the alcohol from his windpipe. Damn, damn, damn. Even as the AD thought it, he started choking again.

Scully ran one hand back up Skinner's newly sensitized leg with a small, soothing palm. With her right hand, she felt underneath Skinner's dress pants to grasp his hard calve muscle. Oh yes, she
thought. Really nice legs. She removed her hand from underneath the lower portion of his slacks and slid it back upward over the cloth. This time, though, Scully had no intention of stopping at his thighs.

Mulder looked across the table at the AD, who was looking distinctly unwell. The AD was listening to Colleen talk about Ryan's third grade teacher, but he didn't look like he was registering the words. Mulder frowned slightly. It must be the candlelight that was making Skinner look so flushed.

"Are you all right, Sir?" Mulder asked, slightly concerned.

"Oh," Skinner registered that he was the center of attention and said quickly, "Yes, I'm," He gasped slightly. "I'm fine." He tinged his answer with authority, and Mulder looked away, noticing for the first time that Scully was gone. Must have gone to the bathroom, he thought.

Mrs. Scully said, "Fox? Don't you think?" Mulder switched back to the conversation at hand.

Scully wondered dimly how long she'd been gone from the table. Too long, probably, but this was one opportunity that she wasn't going to let slip by. Carefully, she cupped Skinner's huge erection with her palm. As he slid his thighs reflexively even further open, she rubbed him through the fabric, amazed at how hard he was. She let go only of the straining portion of fabric to begin to delicately unzip his trousers.

A small whimpering made the crouching woman grin from ear to ear. He'd better be careful, she thought, or they would both be discovered. The danger made her even more excited, and she shifted, widening the space between her thighs. This was, without a doubt, the most reckless thing she'd ever done. If there was comment about her absence, Scully thought, she would pick up the spoon again, and crawl back. Strange, but explainable: She couldn't reach the utensil.

The whimpering sounded again as she was slipping Skinner's fly downward. Frowning, Scully registered it wasn't coming from above, as she had thought. It was coming from beside her. Looking to her right, she saw a pair of gleaming eyes watching her.

Her heart thumping, Dana realized the bright eyes belonged to her mother's dog, Betty. Dana glared at the four-legged intruder in her domain and the small dog, confused by the unusual behavior of the human, surrendered by flopping down under Dana's empty chair. Relieved, Dana turned her attention back to the temptations before her.

Unhooking the tab at the waistband, Dana peeled back the dress slacks. In the dim light, a white patch of material framed by the open zipper of the wool trousers drew her focus. Scully slowly worked her hands inward from Skinner's hips, massaging the tense muscles and tendons.

Skinner shifted his hips slightly forward in his chair and only pretended to sip wine his wine this time. Glad that his hand didn't tremble as he lifted the glass to his lips, Walter surveyed his surroundings over the rim of the glass and was relieved to see no one paying any attention to him. At least not now, and hopefully not for a long time.

He took the opportunity to observe Mulder in animated conversation with Mrs. Scully. Walter thought the candlelight extremely flattering, erasing the small lines of worry and exhaustion usually present and coloring the agent's features with a healthy, golden glow.

Mulder quickly licked his lips as he talked and his full lower lip drew Walter's rapt attention. Walter licked his lips in unconscious imitation of the action.

Dana's hands reached their goal: The hard erection straining against the soft cotton fabric of white Fruit of the Loom briefs. Not surprised at her boss's conservative choice in underwear, Scully gently reached in with one hand to free him from the confining clothing while her other hand slipped lower and cupped his balls through the material.

Walter's hand froze in mid-air when a warm hand wrapped itself around his hard cock. He clenched his jaw to prevent a moan from escaping as the hand extracted his erection from the warm, humid confines of his underwear and exposed it to the cooler air under the table. Closing his eyes briefly, Walter fought to retain control of a body turning traitor on him.

Even though Skinner's knees were wide apart and welcoming, Dana was disappointed to realize she'd never be able to wrap her mouth around that intriguing, shadowy protrusion before her without banging her head on the underside of the table and announcing her presence to everyone.

Always good at problem solving under pressure, Dana braced herself against Skinner's inner thigh. Rubbing her thumb across the smooth/silky top, she discovered a drop of pre-cum just waiting to be used for lubrication. While using one hand to spread moisture around and down the shaft, Dana's other hand continued to gently squeeze and roll Walter's balls around in their sac.

Dana felt the heat and moisture growing in her own groin in response to the obvious arousal in her hands. She adjusted her position slightly so that her knees were planted firmly on either side of Walter's foot, putting her crotch in close proximity to his shoe.

Scully paused to verify that conversation was continuing above, and that no one had mentioned her absence. Then, quickly, partially letting go of Skinner's turgid cock, with one hand she tugged the laces of his shoe. The tightly knotted laces slid apart, and she was able to tug off the stiff leather and thin dress sock to expose one bare male foot. The flesh revealed was pale, and his toenails were neatly clipped to an even, straight line.

Quickly reflecting on the ergonomics of the situation, Scully realized she needed to let the stiffened flesh in her hand go, if only for a second. With both hands, the woman tugged her long, loose skirt up around her waist, letting the fabric bunch loosely at her waist.

Silently, she gave thanks that she hadn't chosen to wear confining pantyhose.

Skinner stiffened as he registered that the warm, firm touch had left, leaving him with a straining third leg. Added to that was a tight, anxious ache emanating in waves from his tight balls upward to the pit of his anxious stomach. He struggled to remain calm and outwardly expressionless as his mind raced furiously. The AD was on the verge of coming to his senses and ending the under-table game playing when it happened.

Walter Skinner's toes were pulled to heated, slick moisture. As that registered, he felt the warm palms he missed grasp the arch of his exposed foot. Dana's warm, moist cunt. Dear lord. Involuntarily, Skinner's eyes slipped closed for just a second, and he gasped silently.

Dana pushed Skinner's toes against her, controlling his foot in slow, regular strokes. Her boss's big toe slipped against her smooth flesh, scraping her swollen clitoris, moving between her inner lips and outward again. Gradually, Scully made the strokes harder and harder until the air underneath the oak table seemed thin and overheated. The agent bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering aloud at the sensations.

Slowly, hesitantly, as waves began to build, Scully released her firm grasp to let Skinner take over the motion. He did not disappoint, and as Dana rode his slick foot underneath the table, she licked her palm and reached up again to grasp his thick, rock-hard length.

Sitting at the table, Walter S. Skinner stared at the dancing candle flame nearest him. For one of the first times in his life, the Assistant Director began to seriously doubt his ability to retain his cool. It was all he could handle to simply sit silently, without crying aloud his pleasure for the entire table to hear.

"Mr. Skinner? Did you hear me?" Colleen's blonde head peered anxiously around her husband to look at him.

Skinner jumped slightly as his ears and brain finally made a connection. He realized someone was not only speaking to him, but expecting a reply. Blinking to interrupt his contemplation of the candle flame, the Assistant Director carefully turned his head.

Hoping he was up to the multitasking situation in which he found himself, Skinner cleared his throat slightly and said, "I'm sorry, what did you say, Colleen?"

Smiling, Colleen repeated herself. "I asked if you'd had enough?"

Under the table, Dana almost snorted out loud when she heard the heartfelt reply of her boss, "More than I'd ever hoped for."

She really wished she could see the look on his normally impassive face. Somehow, she suspected there just might be a crack or two in his stony facade. Dana's speculations were short-circuited as Skinner curled his toes under and used their knuckles to brutally clench her
slippery, engorged clit.

Letting the new sensations finally carry her over the edge, but unwilling to allow a mighty groan to escape her lips as she climaxed, Dana did the only thing her sex-befuddled mind could think of: She filled her mouth with what was closest and bit down. Hard.

Unfortunately for Walter Skinner, his inner thigh was the lucky recipient of Dana's love bite as she rode out the waves of pleasure brought on by his talented toes. Again, the stem of his wine glass barely escaped with its life as the Assistant Director of the FBI once again clamped down on all visible response to this new assault on his body. The ex-Marine felt he had so much pressure built up inside that an orgasm at this point would probably blow a hole in the oak dining room table and splatter his semen on the ceiling. He couldn't let that happen; he knew he had to protect the innocent women and children in the room.

Nonchalantly, Walter Skinner picked up the linen napkin he'd laid next to his plate. After touching it briefly to his lips and wishing he could use it to wipe the sweat he felt covering his bald pate, Skinner dropped the napkin down into his lap, out of sight. Dana almost knocked her head on the table when she jumped at the unexpected feeling of cloth suddenly settling down over her busy hands.

Using the linen to further stimulate the straining erection before her, Dana covered the small opening in the silky head with the cloth as she pumped once... twice more.

Time as he knew it stopped for Walter Skinner.

The world around him faded away and his entire universe revolved around the small, hot hands pumping the life out of him through his cock and his need to Not. Make. A. Sound.

Nothing in his combat training or his years of experience with the FBI had prepared him for the intensity of the pain/pleasure he was experiencing at this moment. Time stretched into infinity. Skinner thought he'd pass out from lack of oxygen. He forced himself to exhale. Slowly. And then inhale. Slowly. And again...

Just as he thought he had everything under control, Skinner felt it: A warm, moist mouth wrapped itself around his big toe.

Skinner thought dimly that he must be going insane. There was just no way that he was actually being worked over under the Thanksgiving table of one of his best agents. Under him, he thought fuzzily, and suppressed the urge to laugh. Then, he lost that ability as well as,  still hanging on the infinite tail end of the world's most shattering orgasm, she started to lick her own sticky juices from between his toes. Somehow, as if she were double-jointed, Scully kept her tight, inexorable grip on his cock while doing so, not allowing Skinner to move in the slightest. Then, finally, finishing her work, she shifted upward and again pumped him, only once, and hard.

Walter Skinner lost it.

The Assistant Director felt his insides liquefy with the force of raining fire. It was so incredibly painful that it was like channeling the forces of heaven. He kept himself from sharing his ecstasy with every person at the table via a primal roar by biting down hard on his tongue. The iron taste of blood blended with his saliva running down his throat as the AD swallowed hard, trying not to either cry or laugh or both.

As small hands dexterously replaced his dress sock and shoe, Skinner eyed the table. People were still talking and eating. Everyone had apparently taken his silence for his personality, and left him to his thoughts.

Everyone except Mulder, that was.

Mulder had concluded his discussion of Elvis with Margaret, who had gone to check on dessert. He'd spent the last few minutes examining his boss, trying to figure out the reason for his flushed skin and alternately darting and half-shut eyes. The agent had concluded that it was sleep deprivation when Skinner looked across to meet his frank stare.

Skinner locked eyes with the dark-haired man across the table. Mulder raised his glass and smiled wryly across the table in a silent toast, causing the AD to relax slightly. Now, if only-
There was a crashing sound from behind the swinging door separating the kitchen from the large dining room. Everyone at the table froze and turned to stare at the door as it opened, revealing a sheepish Mrs. Scully. No one but Walter Skinner noticed the petite redhead climb out from underneath the table to sit once again at her place, her legs crossed demurely.

"Mom, are you all right?" Dana took a long drink from her water glass as her mother answered.

"I'm fine, Dana. I could use a little help cleaning up this pie, though." Margaret's daughter nodded and followed her mother back into the kitchen. Mulder watched as Scully disappeared into the kitchen, and Skinner watched them both.

From the kitchen came a loud, "Betty, no! Go lay down!" Everyone at the table smiled as the timid dog barreled through the swinging door with pumpkin pie smeared across her muzzle and a petite red-head with a towel chasing after her. Ryan and Jason immediately tried to join in the chase, but each found a firm hand on their shoulder holding them in place.

Special Agent Dana Scully cornered the cocker next to the china hutch and wiped the pumpkin off with the towel. Smiling in triumph, she straightened up, faced the watching crowd, and took a little bow. Dana's face was flushed, her hair was in disarray, and her eyes were bright. Walter Skinner thought she looked magnificent. Glancing across the table, he saw Mulder seemed to be transfixed by her appearance as well.

Tossing the towel over her shoulder, Dana moved to clear the dirty dishes from the table. Colleen helped and the table was soon clear.

Having taken advantage of everyone's focus on the pie-eating dog, Skinner breathed a sigh of relief that the zipper on his dress slacks was now in its proper upright and locked position. Now that he could stand up without exposing himself to everyone, Skinner decided he'd adjust himself in the bathroom later, after the post-orgasmic lassitude left his limbs. For now, he was content to sit and wonder just what the hell had happened and whether or not he was hallucinating.

Only one pie had crashed in the kitchen, and Margaret Scully always made at least three desserts for every holiday meal, so everyone still had their choice of pecan pie or chocolate cake. The rest of the meal passed completely uneventfully. Walter Skinner was extremely thankful.

A respectable interval after coffee in the living room, Skinner decided it was time to leave. He thanked his hostess, said goodbye to the others, and made his way to the front hall. Dana Scully fetched his coat. As he went out the door, she said, "Goodnight, Sir. Happy Thanksgiving. And thanks for coming."

Returning her big smile, Walter Skinner replied, "Believe me, Agent Scully, it was my pleasure. Thank *you* for having me." With that, he turned and carefully made his way down the walk to his car, still smiling. Dana watched from the door until Skinner started his car and wondered if her boss would like to be invited to Christmas dinner.

The End


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