Title: Chapped Author: mimic117 Email: mimic1172@gmail.com Rating: NC-17, PWP without a single redeeming feature Category: S Introducing the TitianTigress!Scully category. A woman who knows what she wants and wants it when she wants it, no arguments allowed. Keywords: MSR, established relationship Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, just borrowing, don't sue. Summary: Scully gets a little.... chapped. Dedication: To Sdani as penance for not buying that calendar the minute I saw it. And to Becky, because she's been so insistent lately. Taking care of two smut birds with one... whatever. Written for the Waco Weekend Challenge because Doc owns big needles and she knows how to use them. Beta thanks: To Jake The Amazing, for keeping me honest and grammatically correct. Sorry about the preposition thing. Special thanks: To Tamra for putting her stamp of approval on my city-girl-don't-know-nothin'-'bout-horses view of ranch life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapped by mimic117 Lazy A Ranch West of Waco, Texas Every day, it was the same thing. Get out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, gobble down a huge breakfast and a couple gallons of coffee, saddle up, and then ride until his butt fell asleep. Yee fucking ha. They'd been riding around for days now, and not a rustler to be found. Hell, Mulder would have settled for a Branch Davidian sighting, just to break up the monotony. This wasn't their usual type of investigation, either. No mutants, monsters, aliens or conspiracies. Just your ordinary, garden-variety cattle rustlers who were stealing pregnant cows and leaving still-born calves in Oklahoma. Not very smart rustlers, since they obviously didn't have anyone with enough knowledge to care for the newborns. Plus, their last heist had resulted in the death of an elderly farmer who was lying in ambush for them. They'd kidnapped the poor man, taken him to their usual dumping grounds and left him there with his butchered cattle. The autopsy said he died of a heart attack. Federal law said transporting him across state lines, whether dead or alive, made it FBI business. Definitely not very smart. Of course, Mulder and Scully weren't the only ones prowling for rustlers. There were six sets of Federal partners from different parts of the country, loaned out to the Texas Rangers with the understanding that they were there to follow orders until the bad guys were caught. The Rangers had been happy for their help, considering the sheer size of the area being covered. The search was being conducted from several different ranches around the clock in order to watch all the places with pregnant cows. These thieves seemed to know just when to time their raids. Mulder stretched his stiff back muscles and repositioned his numb ass on the saddle. No sign of rustlers yet, but they had to catch a break soon. The odds were in their favor. The Feds had all taken a lot of ribbing from the Rangers over their "government chic" suits, but once they were re-outfitted in jeans, chaps, boots, Stetsons and long-sleeved flannel shirts to ward off the sun and wind, they fit right in. Scully insisted on the hats, in spite of Mulder's complaints about ring-around-the- forehead, sweaty hair and the fact that some of the other Agents weren't wearing them. When she asked him if he wanted to get sun stroke just because all the other children were going to, he made some knuckle-dragging comment about buying her chaps in the Wal-Mart kiddie department, but surprisingly enough, she let it pass. Mulder got the feeling she'd actually been looking forward to several days on horseback. He figured she was probably reliving some long- unrealized childhood fantasy of being a cowgirl. Wearing chaps threw him at first. From the looks on the other Agents' faces, they weren't keen on the idea either. Sure, they were going to be riding through back country full of huge cacti and prickly shrubs, but there was no way he wanted to wrap leather around his legs and sit on a horse in the hot sun all day. He voiced the opinion that his jeans would be good enough. The ranch foreman insisted that they wouldn't. The smug bastard was proven right the very first day when Mulder's horse sidled into a thorny bush of some kind. They'd both been poked in a couple of places, but without the chaps, Mulder didn't doubt he'd still be picking spines out of his legs three days later. After that, he was willing to admit that it would be prudent to take any advice offered. Of course, he hadn't counted on the panty hose. Mulder balked when the foreman handed out packages of nylons to all the Fibbies right after issuing the chaps. There was no way in hell he planned to wear those, and he wasn't the only one making that view known loud and clear. What would they come up with next? Painted toenails and curlers in his bangs? It took a great deal of cajoling, pleading and out-right bullying on Scully's part to get him into that torture device. Good thing, too. It was bad enough that he spent most of his day with his thighs stretched wide over the back of a horse. It would have been agony to add raw, denim-chafed skin to his aching muscles. And they'd even been thoughtful enough to get the kind of hose that had built-in underwear. It still annoyed him when the waistband rolled down and pinched his middle, but at least he didn't have to wrestle with more than one layer of clothing when nature called. Nature calls loudly and often when you drink a lot of coffee in the morning. The first day out on the trail, he waited as long as possible before tackling the job. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get his pants and chaps off in time to avoid a childish accident. That's when it occurred to him that chaps are constructed the way they are for several reasons. Sure, they were a little embarrassing to wear. The various straps that held the things on resulted in his equipment being on prominent display at all times. He'd had to rapidly readjust himself to avoid a spontaneous re-circumcision the first time he'd pulled one of the groin straps tight. But they also made it easy to do what comes naturally. A quick unzip, a downward yank on the panty hose, and he was all set to take a leak in comfort behind the nearest Saguaro. Mulder found himself feeling sorry for Scully and her female plumbing. The evening sun was painting long, thin shadows across the ground as he guided his horse into the corral and toward the stables. The animal walked faster, as though it were glad to be home. Well, that made two of them. Even though this place wasn't exactly home, it was a damn-sight better than sitting on a horse's back all day. He was going to have to get more panty hose if they stayed much longer. He was wearing his last pair and they were getting sort of ratty from all his post-coffee breaks. As far as he was concerned, nylons were the ultimate example of planned obsolescence. Maybe he could sweet-talk Scully into buying him another pair. He wouldn't know where to look in the store and besides, he didn't know what size he took. Coming to the end of their fourth day in the saddle, Mulder thought he might actually be getting the hang of it. He no longer had to manually straighten his legs when he dismounted in the evening, and the volume and frequency of his groans were lessening. In spite of the relative size of her horse compared to Scully herself, she seemed to be faring better than he was. She had already hopped down and was leading her mount over to the watering trough while he was still sitting there, putting off the inevitable. He pushed up out of the saddle and swung one leg off so he could drop to the ground. Suppressing a groan of relief, he tried to stretch unobtrusively before turning his horse toward the trough. He couldn't fool Scully, though. Yep, she was watching him with a knowing gleam in her eyes. She was well aware of his aches and pains since they'd arrived. Instead of having hot Texas sex every night, she spent the evenings rubbing muscle cream into his aching back and limbs until he fell asleep on her. Not even the sight of her desire-glossed gaze or the touch of her sensuous fingers could keep him awake these days, dammit. He glanced over at her and smiled when she licked her lips. She'd been doing that a lot lately. They were probably chapped from being out in the elements so much. He should be taking care of *her* on this trip instead of the other way around. He vowed to make it up to her. Maybe they could take a moonlight ride on that paddleboat he saw advertised in downtown Waco before they left. But first, he had to bed down his horse for the night before he was allowed to drag his tired body into the house. If Mulder had learned one thing in the past few days, it was that a good horseman always takes care of his mount first. Along with a change in wardrobe, their first day on the case had included a long, hands-on lesson about the proper care of the horses assigned to their use. Nothing pointed you out as a city slicker faster than climbing down from a horse and walking away. There wasn't any valet parking on a cattle ranch. By the time Mulder finished watering his horse and led it into the stables, Scully was already currying hers. He guided the horse into the correct stall and worked the saddle off while the hungry animal stuck its nose into the feed bin. At least that was one thing they didn't have to do. The stalls were already cleaned and stocked when they got back every day. The ranch foreman had made it clear right from the start that they would take care of feed and bedding for the Feds' mounts. Better to work it into their busy day than to take a chance on a sick horse because of greenhorn ignorance. Apparently, the Agents were smart enough to care for their own tack, though. After he got the saddle off, he draped it over the stall wall and grabbed the curry brush from its hook. Mulder really hated this part. His arms were always tired from holding the reins all day, and using them to brush down an animal that was as tall as himself just made them ache more. He did it because he had to, not because he enjoyed it the way Scully did. He could hear her humming in the next stall, stopping every so often to murmur to her horse. He never would have pegged her as a horse person, but she seemed to be perfectly happy whether she was riding, currying or just hanging out on the ranch. After all the years they'd spent together, she still kept him guessing. Once he was satisfied that his horse was brushed as well as his tired arms could manage, Mulder left the stall to return the saddle to the tack room. He was very careful to shut and lock the stall door behind him. It only took an hour of chasing down a loose horse the first night to teach him *that* lesson. The Lazy A was a very large ranch with nearly a hundred horses and almost as many hands. The three stables were more like ancient longhouses than the Eastern barns Mulder had always known. The tack room was at the far end of the building from his horse's stall. The first night, it had seemed a thousand miles away, with his chaps making the trek even longer as they weighed him down and flapped against his legs. Tonight, he covered the distance without really noticing the walk. He was getting so used to moving around with the chaps on, he'd forgotten to take them off and leave them in the tack room the previous night. He actually made it all the way to the house before Scully pointed it out. Going back to the stables to put them away was a *very* long walk considering how hungry as he was at the end of the day. Mulder glanced around the inside of the tack room and briefly wondered about the absence of their relief shift, Rangers Russell and Warnicki. By the time he and Scully came in for the day, the stables were usually empty except for the two Texas lawmen getting their mounts ready for the night watch. So far, Mulder hadn't seen them. Loud grumbles from his stomach reminded him it was time to quit lolly-gagging and get inside where they could find food. That sounded like a good idea. After wiping everything down to remove the day's dust and sweat, he hung up the bridle and settled the saddle on its peg. Walking over to the refrigerator in the corner, he pulled out a bottle of water and turned to survey the rest of the room. If it weren't for the riding equipment at one end, it could be anyone's Western-motif living room. There was a TV on a stand in the middle of the room, facing a red leather couch that looked a lot like his own, except for the color. End tables and a coffee table with legs made from steer horns were positioned around the couch. The refrigerator and microwave were a bit out of place for a regular living room, but what really stood out was the huge Texas state flag hanging on the wall behind the sofa. It covered the entire wall surface and had to be fifteen or twenty feet long. Biggest damned flag he'd ever seen outside of downtown DC. Mulder's stomach rumbled. Supper. Right. He took a step toward the door and felt the chaps flap against his leg. Shit. He'd almost forgotten *again*. Bringing them all the way back to the tack room for the second night in a row was not an attractive option. Better to get them put away as fast as possible before his stomach decided to eat *him* for supper. He untied the thigh strings and then reached for the tongue on the belt just as Scully walked through the door, carrying her tack. She smiled at him, and he stopped to watch as she wiped everything down and returned it to its rightful place. She'd picked out a dark brown Stetson that set off her coloring and matched her boots. The bright blue of her flannel shirt was the same color as her eyes, and her denim-clad ass was framed very nicely by her chaps. She looked adorable. Yeah, he was definitely going to do something extra special for her when they were done here. And he wouldn't wait until they got back to DC, either. When he looked up at her face, she licked her lips. Gotta remember to ask about lip balm. His stomach rumbled again. But first, time to get these damned chaps off. As he reached for the belt strap again, Scully darted in front of him and grabbed his hands. Mulder jumped. She could sure move fast. He smiled at her and tried to shake off her grip, but she didn't let go. He shook harder. She held on tighter and pulled. What the hell? She was dragging him across the tack room. He tugged back a bit, but still walked along with her because he didn't want to hurt her hands by trying to get away. He *was* a bit puzzled by her behavior, though. "Um, Scully? Where are we going?" The room was big, but they were running out of space fast. It looked they were headed toward -- "The couch, Mulder. Hurry up." Okay. It was a good answer to his question but he still didn't know -- "Why?" "Because there isn't a bed in here and it's all we've got, that's why." Curiouser and curiouser. "What would we want with a bed if there *was* one here?" "Well, I'm not having sex with you on the floor." Whoa. Hold the horses! Sex? HERE? Sex anywhere with Scully was a wonderful idea, but -- "But someone could walk in on us! Can't you wait until we finish supper and sneak off upstairs?" "No." So the "unsafe" angle wasn't going to work. He needed a new argument. They really shouldn't be doing this here, now, for a number of different reasons. His stomach let out yet another growl. Good point. He flashed her a smile that oozed sincere concern for her personal comfort after a long day in the saddle. "Aren't you hungry, Scully?" She didn't even look up. "Not for food." That got the attention of the part of his anatomy that only cared about one thing. Not good. Scully was usually so sensible. Maybe he should try something sensible. "We'll miss supper if we don't go in right now. We're even later than usual, and you know how they put stuff away as soon as the crowd is done eating." "We'll go into town and get supper later." Huh? "Scully, it's over an hour's drive to town!" "We'll drive fast." The look on her face proclaimed "End of discussion." And something more. Talk about being eaten alive... It was becoming clear that they were going to have sex on the tack room couch very shortly. One half of Mulder was sure this wasn't a good idea. It was several degrees more risky than boinking in the basement men's room in the Hoover building. After all, nobody ever used that one except him. Unfortunately, the other half of him was doing handsprings at the thought, and that half was winning. Great. He was getting a split personality over sex with Scully. Mulder realized that they'd made it to the couch, even with him back-pedaling half the way. Scully was more determined than he'd ever seen her before. It was true that they weren't sharing a room for the sake of a professional appearance while on the case, and it was also true that he'd been too tired to respond the last few nights, what with all his aches and pains. But couldn't she wait even a *little* while until -- Scully pushed him down onto the couch, where he gaped in surprise as he bounced on the dusty, worn leather. Her hat was the first thing to go, tossed onto the floor where his had fallen when he hit the sofa. She pulled off her chaps and headed for the zipper on her jeans. The boots set her back for a second, but she yanked those off in record time and skinned off the jeans and panty hose before he could blink. Nope. She wasn't in the mood to wait. Which is why it surprised him when she slapped his hands away from the belt on his chaps. "Leave it," she demanded. Leave the chaps on? What the hell -- Her fingers flew over the zipper on his jeans and before he knew it, he was free in the breeze. She'd just opened the fly, ripped the nylons underneath and dragged him out. No small feat considering his cock had attained flagpole status as soon as he'd landed on the couch. That half of him had given up handsprings in favor of panting in sheer lust. Oh well, if you can't beat 'em.... Mulder grabbed one of Scully's hands and helped her straddle his legs. That's when he realized all she had on was her shirt and socks. Panties? Oh, right! The panty hose with the things inside. Didn't matter anyway. If she'd had panties on before, they would have disappeared with the jeans. Scully was on a mission and nothing was going to stand in her way. Not even him. She grabbed his rigid flesh none too gently and guided herself into position. As long as they were throwing caution to the wind, Mulder figured he might as well have some fun, too. But before he could get her shirt unbuttoned, Scully plunged straight down and engulfed him. He'd never seen her act so horny. She hadn't even asked if he was ready. It was pretty obvious that he was, but usually they made eye contact, murmured endearments to each other, savored the first sensations of coupling before moving together toward that pinnacle of blinding release. Not this time. Scully was taking what she wanted, riding him as though he were only there for her lustful pleasure and nothing else mattered. He was still completely clothed, for Christ's sake -- even the chaps! They had to be rubbing her thighs raw, yet she was bouncing up and down hard enough to shake the entire couch. Her hair flew around her face as she plunged back and forth, taking him as deep as he could go time and time again. Tiny grunts puffed from her parted lips on every down stroke. Mulder didn't think he'd ever been so excited in his life. She was stunning. Breath-taking. Wild and free, the most beautiful woman in the world and he didn't think he'd be able to hold out much longer. He wasn't about to come alone, though. He grabbed her hips and ground her down onto the zipper of his jeans. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Mulder recognized the signs. He pulled her downward and met her lips with a kiss that fused their mouths just as Scully released a scream of delight into his throat. He swallowed her whimpers as his body responded to the slowing pulse of her hips. One, two more short thrusts and his cries of completion mingled with hers in their mouths. This was the life. Boneless, sweaty, with Scully draped on his chest, panting sharp little breaths against his neck, still connected and not giving a damn about anything else. Then voices approached down the main stable corridor and they both went still. Shit! If anyone came through that door right now, they were going to see something that usually only showed up in emails with vulgar words in the subject line. Mulder held his breath and closed his eyes. Like that was gonna help.... "They did?" The voices moved closer until they stopped just outside the door. Scully's nails dug into Mulder's shoulders hard enough to leave dents. "Yep. Over at Doc Walthall's place. Caught 'em red-handed just before sun-up. She beaned one of 'em upside the head with a shovel before the Rangers grabbed 'em, but they got the whole gang." "Well shit. Good for Doc! When did you find out?" "Ranger Kelm called this morning, a couple hours after those two agents rode off. Could've saved 'em another day pokin' around in the brush if I'd heard sooner." "T'weren't your fault, Del. At least they caught the damned bastards." The voices trailed off out the side door of the stables and Mulder gave a huge sigh of relief. He looked up at Scully, lying on his chest. Now that the danger was past, she seemed perfectly willing to spend the rest of the evening there. He quietly cleared his throat to get her attention. "I guess that explains why Russell and Warnicki didn't show up for their shift." She nodded against his chest, but didn't pick up her head. After a few more seconds with no appreciable movement, he tickled her naked butt. "Your government assets are showing, partner. Maybe we should put ourselves back together and get cleaned up," he suggested. "There are still a couple of things we have to do before we can vamoose. For starters, we need to return the hats and chaps, now that this case is over. If anything turns up missing, Skinner will barbeque our tushes in the Texas sun." She looked up at him with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Okay," she agreed. "And when we get home, you can buy a new pair of chaps." He snorted. "No I won't." "Yes you will." "No, I won't." "YES. You WILL." "What would I want with chaps in the middle of DC?" A feral smile spread across her face and she licked her lips. Again. "I'm sure I'll think of something, Mulder. Didn't I ever tell you that cowboys turn me on?" Yee fucking ha. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END Challenge elements included: Texas Ranger - a couple checks Branch Davidians - slight check Veterinarian - check (usually nice but a bit pissed off here) Furniture made from steer horns - check A paddleboat - check A leather couch but not Mulder's usual one - checkarooni A really big Texas flag - big check Feedback: mimic1172@gmail.com