FIC: The Interrogation Room
Title: The Interrogation Room
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com >
Date: Sept. 5, 2008
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Classification: V, MSR, a little H
Keywords: Mulder/Scully
Summary: A little role playing never did any harm.
Title: The Interrogation Room
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com >
Date: Sept. 5, 2008
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Classification: V, MSR, a little H
Keywords: Mulder/Scully
Archive: Anywhere, in its entirety
Summary: A little role playing never did any harm.
Disclaimer: They're not mine by design but they're my minions of sexin' tonight, baby.
Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to dashakay but I hope everybody can enjoy a little fantastical role playing and fun. This fic was inspired by an extremely sexy magazine picture from years ago of GA kneeling in an interrogation room chair with a cup of coffee. And we decided it might make a funsexyfic. With that...enjoy.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He enters the interrogation room in a bit of a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him before he takes in the dismal scene. It's sparsely appointed with just one padded wooden chair in the middle of the room, a greenish glow from the caged light bulb overhead. The walls and floor need a good scrubbing for sure, but it's the petite redhead dressed in all black that immediately catches his attention. She's perched on her knees on the chair and her arms are folded along the top. She looks at him, arching her eyebrows--serious, curious, but sure of herself.
He runs his hand through his hair and checks the clipboard in his left hand, flipping through the pages, the end of a black ballpoint pen in the corner of his mouth. He removes the pen, clips it to the board.
"Agent Scully, are you aware that you're in here on some pretty serious charges?" he says.
"I haven't been made aware of the severity of the charges, sir. Would you mind expounding upon them? And by the way, I've been repeatedly denied outside counsel. And your coffee sucks." She drops the half-filled styrofoam cup on the cement floor and it cracks with a pop.
"That's not very nice, Agent Scully." His eyes wander over her body and she smirks.
"I'm not a very nice person. Apparently you've found that out. I am facing serious charges."
He stares at her and she stares back, unrelenting.
"Listen to me. You have two options here...you can either cooperate with this investigation or be hostile toward me. I'll get what I need either way," he says, approaching her. He takes his time, observing her for any minute gesture that may indicate her next action.
"I'm feeling fairly hostile," she answers, watching him. Her feet dangle off of the edge of the chair, clad in three-inch black stiletto heels.
"I don't want to call in reinforcements," he says, standing next to her in the chair. He towers over her, with his broad shoulders and impeccably tailored suit, and she glances up at him with an innocent smile.
"You don't think you can handle me?" Here she presents the challenge, the bait on the hook. He takes a slow walk around the chair, his eyes never leaving her body. Then he stands up straighter, facing her back. His eyes focus on her ass for a few seconds longer than is professionally sound before she glances over her shoulder.
"So are you going to tell me why I'm here?" Her feet kick a little at him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to ignore her toying with him. He looks at his clipboard again.
"Well Agent Scully, I've checked all of the policies and procedures on this one and it looks like these stilettos are not Bureau issue and are in fact strictly prohibited for wear during interrogations."
"I had no idea there was a policy on footwear," she says, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Well, there is...so they're going to have to come off."
He tugs each shoe off of its foot and tosses them away. They thud against the floor. She curls her toes in her black stockings.
"You'd better respect my personal property." She sucks in a breath as he runs a finger up the bottom of one of her feet, up her calf.
"Agent Scully, I'm not the one in trouble here."
"You will be soon if you don't cut it out." Her voice takes a little more serious tone now. She feels him inch closer. He puts both hands on the back of the chair so that she's crouched under his body. His hips brush against her ass and she tries not to moan outloud.
His breath is hot against her ear. "The second violation of concern is this shirt of yours. Normally it's something one would expect to be worn under a coat or jacket because of its form-fitting nature. However, you have chosen to circumvent that rule by wearing it by itself. And given that it's tight enough to be inappropriate, I'm going to have to ask you to remove it."
It takes her a bit to be able to respond, a few breaths to maintain her composure, to keep her cool. "I think your request is inappropriate."
"Rules are rules, Scully...Agent Scully. If you're declining to follow my orders, I'll have to remove it myself." He leans in a little closer to her, so that his hips are pressed firmly against her body. She feels him hard under the light fabric of his suit pants. She refuses to move.
He yanks up the back of her shirt without warning, pulling it over her head. It stays around her arms, still folded on the back of the wooden chair. She gasps and bites her lower lip. He traces the black bra strap across her back, sliding the rough pads of his fingers down her spine and under the waistband of her pants.
"And these. These have to go." His mouth is on her ear now, hot lips pressed against delicate ridges, his voice low.
"You going to confiscate them, too?" She breathes her question, squirming in the chair.
He cups her kneecaps and pulls them off the chair and she lands on her feet, the cold cement a shock to her system. She lets her shirt slide off of her arms and onto the floor. He pulls her pants down wordlessly, his breathing noticeably affected by the curve of her ass in black lace panties and her thigh-high black stockings.
He yanks the panties down with his thumbs.
"You didn't say anything about those," she says, her voice trembling a little. She's exposed, and can't see where he's looking or what he'll do next.
"Those...those, Agent Scully, are the biggest rule infraction of all." He runs his hands up her ass and her back, making her shiver. She shifts on her feet and lets her chin fall to her chest with a sigh, her fingers again wrapped around the top of the chair, knuckles white.
She hears a metallic clink, feels cold metal against her left wrist and is handcuffed to the chair before she has time to think about what the hell he's doing. He leans onto her again, his clothed body curling against her nearly naked back. "That's for being a hostile suspect." His teeth catch the tendon on the side of her neck.
"I guess I need to be hostile more often," she whispers, pushing her ass back against his hips. He hums his approval.
"Get your knees back on that chair, Scully."
"It's Agent Scully to you."
"Right. Agent Scully."
She does as she's told, her knees sticking to the cheap vinyl, and she's keenly aware of what he must be seeing as she's steadying herself on the chair, legs slightly spread. He pushes against her again, a little too hard, and the chair wobbles.
"Whoa, Mulder. I mean, sir. You're going to knock us over."
"Don't tell me what to do. You're the one in custody."
She tries not to laugh at their now miserably failing attempts at remaining in character. "Sorry. You know, this is never going to work. This chair's too low, you're too tall, and I'm...slightly vertically challenged. You're going to be having sex with the middle of my back."
"I'll take what I can get, Agent Scully."
She eyes him from over her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down on this chair, and you'll get a little more than that."
"Quit directing me, Scully. Agent."
She sighs. "Fine."
He clears his throat. "Now get off that chair and I'm going to sit on it."
She stifles her laugh and slides off, her left wrist chafing against the handcuff fastened a little too tight around it. She grimaces and then puts on the most sinister, angry and criminal face she can muster. He sits on the chair and looks up at her expectantly, the excitement evident in his eyes and all regions south.
"Now Agent Scully, you're going to sit on my lap, whether you like it or not, because if you want to get out of these horrendous charges you're facing, your punishment will have to fit your crimes."
She reaches down, sliding her hand over the front of his pants, finding what she is looking for and instinctively licking her upper lip. He exhales, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"Hmmm, I think it does fit rather well." She unbuckles his belt and the top button of his pants.
He squirms in the chair as she unzips him. "It usually fits quite nicely, doesn't it?"
"Mmm-hmm." She slips her hand inside his pants and he lets out a tiny moan. She gets goosebumps in places she's never imagined they could arise. And then he's out and ready and he's looking at her with a hint of desperation in his eyes.
"Well then, let justice be served," she whispers with an arch of her eyebrow. She straddles him and he slides into her deeply, completely, and they both sigh and smile, in that order.
"You going to be okay with this?" he moans, snaking his hands around her waist, grabbing her ass. "Your legs long enough to reach the floor, Scully?"
"Oh, fuck you, Mulder." She pulls on the back of his hair with her free hand.
"Ouch. My thoughts exactly." He grins and she covers his mouth with her own. He thrusts up against her and she pulls away from his hips, teasing him, while their tongues slip together.
"Now who's in control, sir?" she murmurs against his lips. They look into each others' eyes as she presses down onto him again, her hips rising up and down. His palms move over her sides to her breasts, still clothed in black lace, and he groans.
"Scully why isn't this off?" he says, nearly whining.
"Don't ask me. It was your job." Her hips rise and fall again, more quickly now, and his head tilts back just enough to give her access to his neck, which she proceeds to exploit in as many ways as possible. Teeth, tongue and mouth work the delicious skin under his ears and chin. "And might I add that you're still fully clothed."
"I know," he breathes. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck, riding him a little harder. His fingers pluck at the top of her stockings, travel back to her ass, clenching her skin. "Damn, Agent Scully. You're redeeming your bad self."
"I'm so...naughty huh?" She feels a spark from her head to her toes when she says it against his neck. "Am I?"
He thrusts against her as hard as he can and she has to regain her balance. "Oh yeah. Naughtiest...ever. God, Scully..."
"That's Agent Scully to you," she pants. "Don't make me say it again."
"God, Agent Scully..." And she feels him tremor under her a little and she smirks, knowing he's coming, and that he'll be a little disappointed that he came so quickly, but that she gets a secret sense of pride out of how fast she can make it happen.
"That's right baby, I'm your naughty little habitual offender..."
"Oh, Jesus."
"...and you should come in me really, really hard. Sir."
And he does, jerking his hips, and the chair squeaks against the floor and she slides her arm around his shoulder with a yelp and a giggle while his face twists up and his mouth opens slightly with a deliciously long moan.
"Careful, careful, damn, Mulder, I mean sir, this is one sturdy chair."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She hears his keys jingling behind her as she toes at her clothes on the floor.
"Mulder, feel free to take your time finding that handcuff key. It's only freezing in here. But how would you know? You're not naked."
She's met by silence and more jingling. Then she hears a long sigh, the kind of sigh she doesn't like to hear. The sigh that indicates that he is about to tell her something fairly displeasing and that will most likely incite in her a strong emotional reaction.
She knows that sigh all too well.
"Scully, I don't have the key."
"Mulder...Hold on. What?"
There went that sigh again. "I don't have the key to the handcuffs."
She turns to face him. "Seriously."
He looks at her with a one-shouldered shrug, then casts his eyes downward when the intensity of her glare proves to be too much to handle. "As much as I'd love to be joking right now, I'm pretty serious. I didn't bring the right keychain."
"You brought your cuffs but not the key."
"Yeah."
"...Fuck, Mulder!"
He winces and takes a step back. "I know. Just...take it easy. Wait a second."
"Sure. It's not like I have another option here." She tugs at her wrist and the chair squeaks against the floor for effect. She tries to slide her wrist out of the handcuffs and her skin starts to burn a little. He crouches down to examine the chair.
"You put this on too tight, Mulder."
He raises his eyebrows at her. "Scully, you were a potentially violent criminal. You needed to be restrained."
The look she gives him could freeze over hell. He looks back at the chair.
"We're going to have to break this chair. It shouldn't be too hard to do."
"You don't happen to have a handsaw in your pocket, do you?"
A flick of his eyes to her face. "That's on my other keychain, too." He pulls on the beam of wood she's attached to and it doesn't budge.
"You know, I'm still naked." She crosses her free arm over her stomach.
"Well, get dressed."
She stares at him and he does his best to ignore it. "With one arm attached to a chair? I'm agile, but not that agile."
He picks up her panties and holds them out for her. She delicately steps into them. He pulls them up her legs and rises to her with a smirk.
"What?"
"I wouldn't mind having you like this more often." He lowers his head to kiss her neck.
"You're never going to have me like any way again unless you get this figured out. Soon."
He kisses her cheek. "Scully, you're so romantic."
"No, Mulder, romantic is me hitting you with this chair in the name of breaking myself free, then having to haul your ass to the hospital, again, for head trauma."
This shuts him up. He helps her into her pants, then picks up her shirt. They stare at it and she looks at her bound wrist, feeling more helpless by the minute.
"Just put it over your head and your right arm, I guess," he says.
She tilts her head to the side and sighs, closing her eyes. He catches her drift. He shoves the shirt down over her head a little too emphatically. She grunts and slides her right arm through the sleeve.
"All right. Now that I'm fairly dressed, how do you suggest we go about breaking this chair, sir?" She puts her free hand on her hip, determined to assert some sort of control over the situation.
"Well, there are a couple of different ways to break a chair."
"Enlighten me, Bob Vila."
He lets out a laugh just to humor her. She is not amused. "You could hold the chair and slam the back of it against the wall..."
"And somehow avoid crushing my fingers or my wrist into the cement bricks."
"...or we could put the chair on the floor with the back up, and I could step on the rung you're attached to and hope it cracks."
"Or?" She taps her foot impatiently.
"Or...I could roundhouse kick it really hard I suppose."
"Fabulous. Or?"
He rolls his head on his shoulders with an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, Scully. You're so hard to please. You want to take it out the front door with you? We might be able to fit you and the chair in the backseat and head to the nearest Home Depot, pick up a handsaw and set you free."
"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."
They look at each other and smile. She shakes her head. "Let's do the floor thing. It seems like the best option."
"Agreed, Agent Scully."
They lay the chair on the floor with the back facing up. She's kneeling next to it and looks up at him. He's regally poised with his foot on her rung of captivity.
"This should be easy," he says.
"Famous last words. Please don't land on me." She curls herself inward a little, gives her hand a glance and squints her eyes shut.
"Okay, Scully. On the count of three. You ready?"
"Mulder. Enough fanfare."
"Okay. Ready. One...Two...Three."
She expects the sound of splintering wood, a crack, his foot thumping to the floor, but all she hears is a tinny cling on the floor and she feels a whoosh of air.
"Mulder?" She opens her eyes and hears the door slam shut. "Mulder, what the hell..."
And then she sees the handcuff key glimmering on the cement floor in front of her face.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>the end.
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com >
Date: Sept. 5, 2008
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Classification: V, MSR, a little H
Keywords: Mulder/Scully
Summary: A little role playing never did any harm.
Title: The Interrogation Room
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com >
Date: Sept. 5, 2008
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Classification: V, MSR, a little H
Keywords: Mulder/Scully
Archive: Anywhere, in its entirety
Summary: A little role playing never did any harm.
Disclaimer: They're not mine by design but they're my minions of sexin' tonight, baby.
Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to dashakay but I hope everybody can enjoy a little fantastical role playing and fun. This fic was inspired by an extremely sexy magazine picture from years ago of GA kneeling in an interrogation room chair with a cup of coffee. And we decided it might make a funsexyfic. With that...enjoy.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He enters the interrogation room in a bit of a hurry, slamming the door shut behind him before he takes in the dismal scene. It's sparsely appointed with just one padded wooden chair in the middle of the room, a greenish glow from the caged light bulb overhead. The walls and floor need a good scrubbing for sure, but it's the petite redhead dressed in all black that immediately catches his attention. She's perched on her knees on the chair and her arms are folded along the top. She looks at him, arching her eyebrows--serious, curious, but sure of herself.
He runs his hand through his hair and checks the clipboard in his left hand, flipping through the pages, the end of a black ballpoint pen in the corner of his mouth. He removes the pen, clips it to the board.
"Agent Scully, are you aware that you're in here on some pretty serious charges?" he says.
"I haven't been made aware of the severity of the charges, sir. Would you mind expounding upon them? And by the way, I've been repeatedly denied outside counsel. And your coffee sucks." She drops the half-filled styrofoam cup on the cement floor and it cracks with a pop.
"That's not very nice, Agent Scully." His eyes wander over her body and she smirks.
"I'm not a very nice person. Apparently you've found that out. I am facing serious charges."
He stares at her and she stares back, unrelenting.
"Listen to me. You have two options here...you can either cooperate with this investigation or be hostile toward me. I'll get what I need either way," he says, approaching her. He takes his time, observing her for any minute gesture that may indicate her next action.
"I'm feeling fairly hostile," she answers, watching him. Her feet dangle off of the edge of the chair, clad in three-inch black stiletto heels.
"I don't want to call in reinforcements," he says, standing next to her in the chair. He towers over her, with his broad shoulders and impeccably tailored suit, and she glances up at him with an innocent smile.
"You don't think you can handle me?" Here she presents the challenge, the bait on the hook. He takes a slow walk around the chair, his eyes never leaving her body. Then he stands up straighter, facing her back. His eyes focus on her ass for a few seconds longer than is professionally sound before she glances over her shoulder.
"So are you going to tell me why I'm here?" Her feet kick a little at him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to ignore her toying with him. He looks at his clipboard again.
"Well Agent Scully, I've checked all of the policies and procedures on this one and it looks like these stilettos are not Bureau issue and are in fact strictly prohibited for wear during interrogations."
"I had no idea there was a policy on footwear," she says, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Well, there is...so they're going to have to come off."
He tugs each shoe off of its foot and tosses them away. They thud against the floor. She curls her toes in her black stockings.
"You'd better respect my personal property." She sucks in a breath as he runs a finger up the bottom of one of her feet, up her calf.
"Agent Scully, I'm not the one in trouble here."
"You will be soon if you don't cut it out." Her voice takes a little more serious tone now. She feels him inch closer. He puts both hands on the back of the chair so that she's crouched under his body. His hips brush against her ass and she tries not to moan outloud.
His breath is hot against her ear. "The second violation of concern is this shirt of yours. Normally it's something one would expect to be worn under a coat or jacket because of its form-fitting nature. However, you have chosen to circumvent that rule by wearing it by itself. And given that it's tight enough to be inappropriate, I'm going to have to ask you to remove it."
It takes her a bit to be able to respond, a few breaths to maintain her composure, to keep her cool. "I think your request is inappropriate."
"Rules are rules, Scully...Agent Scully. If you're declining to follow my orders, I'll have to remove it myself." He leans in a little closer to her, so that his hips are pressed firmly against her body. She feels him hard under the light fabric of his suit pants. She refuses to move.
He yanks up the back of her shirt without warning, pulling it over her head. It stays around her arms, still folded on the back of the wooden chair. She gasps and bites her lower lip. He traces the black bra strap across her back, sliding the rough pads of his fingers down her spine and under the waistband of her pants.
"And these. These have to go." His mouth is on her ear now, hot lips pressed against delicate ridges, his voice low.
"You going to confiscate them, too?" She breathes her question, squirming in the chair.
He cups her kneecaps and pulls them off the chair and she lands on her feet, the cold cement a shock to her system. She lets her shirt slide off of her arms and onto the floor. He pulls her pants down wordlessly, his breathing noticeably affected by the curve of her ass in black lace panties and her thigh-high black stockings.
He yanks the panties down with his thumbs.
"You didn't say anything about those," she says, her voice trembling a little. She's exposed, and can't see where he's looking or what he'll do next.
"Those...those, Agent Scully, are the biggest rule infraction of all." He runs his hands up her ass and her back, making her shiver. She shifts on her feet and lets her chin fall to her chest with a sigh, her fingers again wrapped around the top of the chair, knuckles white.
She hears a metallic clink, feels cold metal against her left wrist and is handcuffed to the chair before she has time to think about what the hell he's doing. He leans onto her again, his clothed body curling against her nearly naked back. "That's for being a hostile suspect." His teeth catch the tendon on the side of her neck.
"I guess I need to be hostile more often," she whispers, pushing her ass back against his hips. He hums his approval.
"Get your knees back on that chair, Scully."
"It's Agent Scully to you."
"Right. Agent Scully."
She does as she's told, her knees sticking to the cheap vinyl, and she's keenly aware of what he must be seeing as she's steadying herself on the chair, legs slightly spread. He pushes against her again, a little too hard, and the chair wobbles.
"Whoa, Mulder. I mean, sir. You're going to knock us over."
"Don't tell me what to do. You're the one in custody."
She tries not to laugh at their now miserably failing attempts at remaining in character. "Sorry. You know, this is never going to work. This chair's too low, you're too tall, and I'm...slightly vertically challenged. You're going to be having sex with the middle of my back."
"I'll take what I can get, Agent Scully."
She eyes him from over her shoulder. "Why don't you sit down on this chair, and you'll get a little more than that."
"Quit directing me, Scully. Agent."
She sighs. "Fine."
He clears his throat. "Now get off that chair and I'm going to sit on it."
She stifles her laugh and slides off, her left wrist chafing against the handcuff fastened a little too tight around it. She grimaces and then puts on the most sinister, angry and criminal face she can muster. He sits on the chair and looks up at her expectantly, the excitement evident in his eyes and all regions south.
"Now Agent Scully, you're going to sit on my lap, whether you like it or not, because if you want to get out of these horrendous charges you're facing, your punishment will have to fit your crimes."
She reaches down, sliding her hand over the front of his pants, finding what she is looking for and instinctively licking her upper lip. He exhales, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"Hmmm, I think it does fit rather well." She unbuckles his belt and the top button of his pants.
He squirms in the chair as she unzips him. "It usually fits quite nicely, doesn't it?"
"Mmm-hmm." She slips her hand inside his pants and he lets out a tiny moan. She gets goosebumps in places she's never imagined they could arise. And then he's out and ready and he's looking at her with a hint of desperation in his eyes.
"Well then, let justice be served," she whispers with an arch of her eyebrow. She straddles him and he slides into her deeply, completely, and they both sigh and smile, in that order.
"You going to be okay with this?" he moans, snaking his hands around her waist, grabbing her ass. "Your legs long enough to reach the floor, Scully?"
"Oh, fuck you, Mulder." She pulls on the back of his hair with her free hand.
"Ouch. My thoughts exactly." He grins and she covers his mouth with her own. He thrusts up against her and she pulls away from his hips, teasing him, while their tongues slip together.
"Now who's in control, sir?" she murmurs against his lips. They look into each others' eyes as she presses down onto him again, her hips rising up and down. His palms move over her sides to her breasts, still clothed in black lace, and he groans.
"Scully why isn't this off?" he says, nearly whining.
"Don't ask me. It was your job." Her hips rise and fall again, more quickly now, and his head tilts back just enough to give her access to his neck, which she proceeds to exploit in as many ways as possible. Teeth, tongue and mouth work the delicious skin under his ears and chin. "And might I add that you're still fully clothed."
"I know," he breathes. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck, riding him a little harder. His fingers pluck at the top of her stockings, travel back to her ass, clenching her skin. "Damn, Agent Scully. You're redeeming your bad self."
"I'm so...naughty huh?" She feels a spark from her head to her toes when she says it against his neck. "Am I?"
He thrusts against her as hard as he can and she has to regain her balance. "Oh yeah. Naughtiest...ever. God, Scully..."
"That's Agent Scully to you," she pants. "Don't make me say it again."
"God, Agent Scully..." And she feels him tremor under her a little and she smirks, knowing he's coming, and that he'll be a little disappointed that he came so quickly, but that she gets a secret sense of pride out of how fast she can make it happen.
"That's right baby, I'm your naughty little habitual offender..."
"Oh, Jesus."
"...and you should come in me really, really hard. Sir."
And he does, jerking his hips, and the chair squeaks against the floor and she slides her arm around his shoulder with a yelp and a giggle while his face twists up and his mouth opens slightly with a deliciously long moan.
"Careful, careful, damn, Mulder, I mean sir, this is one sturdy chair."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She hears his keys jingling behind her as she toes at her clothes on the floor.
"Mulder, feel free to take your time finding that handcuff key. It's only freezing in here. But how would you know? You're not naked."
She's met by silence and more jingling. Then she hears a long sigh, the kind of sigh she doesn't like to hear. The sigh that indicates that he is about to tell her something fairly displeasing and that will most likely incite in her a strong emotional reaction.
She knows that sigh all too well.
"Scully, I don't have the key."
"Mulder...Hold on. What?"
There went that sigh again. "I don't have the key to the handcuffs."
She turns to face him. "Seriously."
He looks at her with a one-shouldered shrug, then casts his eyes downward when the intensity of her glare proves to be too much to handle. "As much as I'd love to be joking right now, I'm pretty serious. I didn't bring the right keychain."
"You brought your cuffs but not the key."
"Yeah."
"...Fuck, Mulder!"
He winces and takes a step back. "I know. Just...take it easy. Wait a second."
"Sure. It's not like I have another option here." She tugs at her wrist and the chair squeaks against the floor for effect. She tries to slide her wrist out of the handcuffs and her skin starts to burn a little. He crouches down to examine the chair.
"You put this on too tight, Mulder."
He raises his eyebrows at her. "Scully, you were a potentially violent criminal. You needed to be restrained."
The look she gives him could freeze over hell. He looks back at the chair.
"We're going to have to break this chair. It shouldn't be too hard to do."
"You don't happen to have a handsaw in your pocket, do you?"
A flick of his eyes to her face. "That's on my other keychain, too." He pulls on the beam of wood she's attached to and it doesn't budge.
"You know, I'm still naked." She crosses her free arm over her stomach.
"Well, get dressed."
She stares at him and he does his best to ignore it. "With one arm attached to a chair? I'm agile, but not that agile."
He picks up her panties and holds them out for her. She delicately steps into them. He pulls them up her legs and rises to her with a smirk.
"What?"
"I wouldn't mind having you like this more often." He lowers his head to kiss her neck.
"You're never going to have me like any way again unless you get this figured out. Soon."
He kisses her cheek. "Scully, you're so romantic."
"No, Mulder, romantic is me hitting you with this chair in the name of breaking myself free, then having to haul your ass to the hospital, again, for head trauma."
This shuts him up. He helps her into her pants, then picks up her shirt. They stare at it and she looks at her bound wrist, feeling more helpless by the minute.
"Just put it over your head and your right arm, I guess," he says.
She tilts her head to the side and sighs, closing her eyes. He catches her drift. He shoves the shirt down over her head a little too emphatically. She grunts and slides her right arm through the sleeve.
"All right. Now that I'm fairly dressed, how do you suggest we go about breaking this chair, sir?" She puts her free hand on her hip, determined to assert some sort of control over the situation.
"Well, there are a couple of different ways to break a chair."
"Enlighten me, Bob Vila."
He lets out a laugh just to humor her. She is not amused. "You could hold the chair and slam the back of it against the wall..."
"And somehow avoid crushing my fingers or my wrist into the cement bricks."
"...or we could put the chair on the floor with the back up, and I could step on the rung you're attached to and hope it cracks."
"Or?" She taps her foot impatiently.
"Or...I could roundhouse kick it really hard I suppose."
"Fabulous. Or?"
He rolls his head on his shoulders with an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, Scully. You're so hard to please. You want to take it out the front door with you? We might be able to fit you and the chair in the backseat and head to the nearest Home Depot, pick up a handsaw and set you free."
"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that."
They look at each other and smile. She shakes her head. "Let's do the floor thing. It seems like the best option."
"Agreed, Agent Scully."
They lay the chair on the floor with the back facing up. She's kneeling next to it and looks up at him. He's regally poised with his foot on her rung of captivity.
"This should be easy," he says.
"Famous last words. Please don't land on me." She curls herself inward a little, gives her hand a glance and squints her eyes shut.
"Okay, Scully. On the count of three. You ready?"
"Mulder. Enough fanfare."
"Okay. Ready. One...Two...Three."
She expects the sound of splintering wood, a crack, his foot thumping to the floor, but all she hears is a tinny cling on the floor and she feels a whoosh of air.
"Mulder?" She opens her eyes and hears the door slam shut. "Mulder, what the hell..."
And then she sees the handcuff key glimmering on the cement floor in front of her face.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>the end.