by Eiluned & Arcadian42
(wildcat@topsurf.com)
(darthscully@unbounded.com)
ARCHIVE: Ask before archiving or linking.
DISCLAIMER: They are not ours and we are making no money. At all! Just a
couple of college students keeping our sanity intact. And since Mr. Carter would
never send Mulder & Scully to Paris, we thought we should as a public
service. They need a vacation.
SPOILER WARNING: tiny Piper Maru
TIMELINE: takes place 6th season after Arcadia
RATING: mild R (yeah,
this is mildly out of character for Eiluned!)
SUMMARY: Claustrophobia,
masturbation and a subway train in the City of Looooove. Need we say more?
"Mulder, why the hell are we here?"
He looked straight down at the mess of red hair brushing against his chest.
"We’re trying to find Krycek."
"Yeah, no shit, Mulder. How do you expect to find him in a crowd like this? For Chrissakes, it’s Bastille Day."
"Huh?"
"Jeez. The French independence day. The day when every single French person comes to Paris? And you think we can just find him? I think you’ve lost your mind."
Mulder shifted uncomfortably. Whoever was behind him smelled terrible and was poking him in the back with what felt like an umbrella. God, he hoped it was an umbrella.
"How many more stops, Scully?" he asked.
"This is Vavin. We have nine more."
"How many?"
"Nine!"
"Okay, okay."
Scully sighed, trying not to lean to close to Mulder. The train was already crowded enough that they had to stand and hang onto these poles that reminded her of strip joints. And, God, did he smell good.
"We’re coming up on a station. I think it’s Mont...pare...nass... Bienvenidos?"
"Bienvenue. Montparnasse Bienvenue. Bienvenidos is Spanish. I thought you took French in high school."
"Whatever. Keep your eye out for Krycek."
The train jerked to a stop and Scully pitched forward right into Mulder’s arms.
"Oh, um, sorry..."
"No problem. Hey, is that him?"
Scully made an effort peek over his shoulder and out the door, but there were about eighty people between her and it.
"No Mulder, that’s a big, sweaty, French guy." She sighed sarcastically.
"Are you sure? It really looks like him..."
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
SLAM!
"Too late, Mulder. I don’t think that was him. Ugh, we’re never going to find him here. How do we even know that was him?"
"Scully, the bastard gave me the finger! Who else would do something like that?"
"Pretty much everyone in Paris."
"They don’t give the finger, Scully. The French do that little flip-from-the-chin thing. And I wouldn’t chase just anyone through the damned creepiest cemetery I’ve ever been in."
Scully laughed to herself. "I didn’t think that would have spooked you. It is just five p.m. Maybe at midnight..."
"Okay, I’ll be sure and take you back there tonight."
"Don’t tempt me."
"Ooh, is that a come on?"
His answer was a sharp elbow to the ribs, which rebounded into the guy that was crammed behind Scully.
"Merde! Qu’est que vous faites?"
Scully glanced up at Mulder in time to see him give the guy a really nasty look.
"Mulder? Got any idea what he just said?"
"Screw him. Come here."
He opened his arms as widely as he could in the tightly cramped space and beckoned her with his head. She arched an eyebrow and gave him the look. He shrugged innocently and plastered his patented wounded puppy look on his face, the one he knew she couldn’t resist.
'Well, I guess getting closer to Mulder would be better than cuddling up to a stranger. Possibilities...' the naughty little voice in her head whispered.
'Oh, shut up,' the prim-and-proper professional voice replied.
Sighing her defeat, she stepped closer to Mulder, releasing her grip on the pole to clutch his sleeves. It felt strangely nice to be this close to him. But it wasn’t like she was fooling herself. Being close to Mulder’s body was like being on opium. 'God, he smells good,' she thought.
Mulder wrapped his free arm around her waist, gripping the pole tightly for balance. He had no idea why he had just invited her to press her soft, little body against him. They were in confined enough quarters. It was hot. She was hot. And...
He was hard.
As a fucking rock.
In the middle of the fucking metro in the middle of fucking rush hour.
He swallowed hard and prayed to the powers that be that she wouldn’t notice.
No such luck.
The train lurched to a stop at the next station and Scully tumbled into him, her body pressing flush against his, her belly connecting soundly with his not-so-subtle hard-on. Her head snapped up and her eyes widened to saucer size. Her mouth formed a silent O, but no words came out.
Mulder felt like crawling under the seat and dying.
That is, until she began to not-so-subtly rub herself against his aforementioned hard-on.
He was sure everyone on the train and even the people outside on the platform could hear the *gulp* when he swallowed. Hell, he thought that lump in his throat was his tongue going down the wrong way.
More people packed into the train, making a sardine can look comfy, shoving Scully more solidly against him. She let out a barely audible whimper and Mulder’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
"Scully...wha...wha..."
"Shut up, Mulder."
Scully stretched her arms up and wrapped them around his neck under the pretense of conserving space, crushing her body against his.
"Scully, are you sure..."
"Mulder, you can be so dense," she laughed quietly, "I know, this isn’t a very private spot, but... the opportunity has presented itself."
He shifted so that his pole-gripping hand was resting on her hip, the pole tucked into the crook of his elbow. He started to lean down to kiss her, but she pressed two fingers to his lips. "Not here," she whispered, "Someone could be watching."
Her legs parted just enough for one of his jean-clad thighs to slip in. She stifled a groan and pressed her face into his soft cotton shirt, cooling her flushed cheeks on the fabric.
Mulder let his head tip back for a second, reveling in the sheer insanity of this situation. They were chasing a dangerous criminal, they were in a seriously crowded metro train and... ohhhhhhh, shit.
Scully pushed her hips forward, bringing the heat between her legs in direct contact with his thigh. He thought his head might blow off.
God, he wanted to kiss her. He slipped his hand under her jacket, sliding over the silk of her blouse to cup her breast lightly. She whimpered, catching the attention of a few other passengers. They both were past the point of noticing.
She rubbed her hips sensually against him, her breath quickening, but still trying to be as quiet as possible. Mulder lowered his head to provide a little more shelter, biting his lip hard when her hand curled around his erection.
It was so hot in the train that Scully thought she might pass out. Either that, or it was just the fact that she was about to have the most hellacious orgasm she’d ever experienced. Boy-o, if Mulder could do this to her fully clothed, standing in the middle of a crowd, she could hardly wait to see what he could do naked in a bed.
Mulder watched her bite her lip hard, like she was trying not to scream and he wished fervently that he wouldn’t come in his pants.
The train screeched to a stop, nearly sending them tumbling. "Scully..." he whispered.
"Oh, my God, that’s him!"
She jerked out of his arms and started pushing her way through the crowd. Mulder followed her, tossing out an occasional ‘pardon’ or ‘excusez moi’ when someone looked really pissed off at Scully’s manhandling.
"Come on, Mulder! I think he went into the next car!"
After six stops of shoving their way up and down the train, Mulder decided that they had lost him.
"I think he got off somewhere back there," he said, grabbing a pole and Scully’s shoulder as the train pitched to a screeching halt, "Let’s face it. He’s probably hopping a train out of the city by now."
"Damn it," she muttered, "Leave it to that little rat bastard to ruin a perfectly good time. Let’s get off here."
"Didn’t you get off a minute ago?"
"Shut up, Mulder. Come on."
She sounded pissed, but the smile on her face could only be described as lascivious.
End
Authors’ Notes: Eiluned here. This is not number six in a series! Okay, we just thought we’d get that out in the open. We just had a wild weekend in Paris and decided to ship M & S over here. Line Six is a subway line in Paris.
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