X-Files Fanfiction
Fifth in the Murphey series
Just Lucky, I Guess
WARNING: This story is NC-17!!!!!
"We need to talk." Skinner swung about, leaving his key dangling in the lock . Serendipity Murphey regarded him steadily, her steel-gray eyes unblinking. She stood on the threshold of her apartment, her stance an open challenge. She must have popped out the moment he'd begun to open his door. Which meant she must have been waiting. Not, he decided, a good sign.
"What about, Agent Murphey?" He purposely lowered his voice, making it a harsh rasp that would have sent any sensible person running for cover. Unfortunately for him, Serendipity wasn't feeling the least bit sensible at the moment.
"You know 'what about', Walter," She said it lightly, his first name a deliberate counter to his formality.
"I believe you're mistaken, Agent Murphey. Now, if you don't mind...?" He made a move back toward the door. He had to get out of this situation now, before it got any worse...
"Actually, I *do* mind." He winced. Never mind. "Listen, Walter... if you can tell me, honestly, that you are perfectly fine, then I'll leave you alone. Otherwise, we need to talk."
"Murphey, I assure you, if I *was* having problems, which I'm not, you would be the very last person I would choose to confide in." he growled, intentionally striking to hurt, so that he could seek the safety of his apartment. Serendipity had to fight back a upward twitch of her lips. At least insults hinted at something other than indifference, and anything other than indifference was a good sign. She chose her next words carefully, hoping that she was right about this, and about him.
"Well, then. Maybe I should just leave you to your brooding?" She cast a significant glance toward the plain brown bag in his left hand, "Or were you planning a party?"
"I am not brooding!" he snapped, his eyes darkening with annoyance. Serendipity found herself torn between three conflicting emotions: compassion, anger, and a rather inappropriate desire. She was not here to seduce the man, after all. Even if he did look simply scrumptious in the scruffy black T-shirt and tight fitting jeans. She dragged her mind onto more immediate matters, pressing home her advantage and moving a quick step closer to him.
"Really? Then what the hell do you call it? You're not exactly a jolly guy at the best of times, but don't you think that reducing two grown men to tears in the space of three weeks is pushing it a little, even for you? For God's sake, the last one wasn't even in your division!"
"You know nothing about the situation Agent Murphey!" His voice didn't rise in response to hers, instead it became softer, the deadly softness of a viper about to strike. She heard the threat, but couldn't afford to stop. She had to press forward, risking the tentative bond she held with Walter in order to bring him back from whatever dark place he'd retreated to. Others had already tried the honey, now it was time for the vinegar.
"I know the situation. Agent Jamison committed a minor violation..." It was the wrong, or maybe the right, thing to say. He turned on her in blind fury, and the rage and pain she saw in his eyes made her take an involuntary step back.
"That *minor* violation nearly got himself and his partner killed! He's damn lucky I didn't fire his incompetent ass on the spot! I was doing my job, Agent Murphey. I was protecting the agents under my command. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you..." Serendipity interrupted him gently, placing her hand on one of his tightly clenched fists.
"It wasn't your fault, Walter. It wasn't Jamison's, it wasn't even Richardson's. You cannot take responsibility for Richardson's death forever, sir."
Walter closed his eyes against the grief and rage that swirled within him. He was there again, hearing the bust of gunfire, the screams over the microphone. Mobilizing the rest of the team as his mind chanted, "Too late, too late, again," Richardson's body, and that of his partner, bloody wrecks on the warehouse floor. He'd known that the new agent was a little too eager, a little too cocky. But he'd had the skills they'd needed for the operation, and he'd gone against his gut. And now two of his agents were dead.
"I knew. Dammit, it didn't have to happen. If I'd just..." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. He knew he was being irrational, but... he could have stopped it. If he'd just put Richardson where he could have kept an eye on him, two of his people would still be alive today.
Serendipity could almost hear his thoughts. A part of her wished she could find Richardson and kill him again, for being so damn stupid, and for putting someone she... cared for through so much pain. Instead, she silently stepped closer to him, sliding her hands up to his arms. She looked up at him, wanting desperately to comfort, but not knowing if the fragile relationship they shared would allow him to accept. Gray eyes met turbulent brown, and for a moment she could almost feel the tension within him freeze on a knife's edge of indecision. Then his arms came about her, and he clasped her to him as if she were a life raft, an he a drowning man. She felt him tremble with the force of his grief, and although he made no sound, a few warm tears slid down her shoulder blades. She simply held him closer, feeling tears of her own well up and overflow. They stood like that for an endless moment, taking and receiving the warmth of another living person.
Reluctantly, Walter pulled away. He sighed. The grief was still there, but it was a manageable thing, painful, but endurable. Serendipity raised her head, her eyes as red and wet as his. It almost frightened him, how much he had enjoyed that simple human contact. It had been a long time. Even in his marriage, in the last year or two, he and Sharon had barely spoken, much less held each other and shared grief. Another thing that was mostly his fault. She would have tried, if he'd ever let her behind the walls his work had made him build.
"You're doing it again." Startled, he glanced down. Serendipity was looking at him, her lips almost curved into a smile.
"What?"
"Blaming yourself for something that probably isn't your fault." He smiled without humor.
"That time it actually was..." he rubbed a hand over the bridge of his nose wearily, "Maybe this time was too." He saw her mouth open, and placed one tanned finger on her lips. It silenced her instantly. "*But*, you're right. Nothing will be solved by alienating the rest of the agents." He paused, "Was Jamison really crying?" Serendipity nodded, fighting the urge to draw his finger between her lips. I will *not* seduce my superior when he's down, I will *not* seduce my superior when he's down, she chanted silently. It wasn't really working, she could feel the warmth of him against her lips, and minute movements of his finger sent delightful shivers across her skin. Slowly, she pulled her head back, regretfully breaking the contact.
"Walter, why don't you come in for some coffee, or some tea?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced. She sounded like her grandmother, trying to fix all ills with a hot drink and a kiss. Her gaze rose involuntarily to his firm, sensuous lips. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea...
"All right. I wasn't really looking forward to my plans for the evening, anyway." Walter smiled self-depreciatingly and indicated the bag. Serendipity retreated to her apartment, and waved him inside. She could almost hear the nails being nailed in her coffin. So why was she looking forward to it?
***********
Walter entered the apartment, looking around with interest. The one previous glimpse he'd received had been rather...hurried. There was a large, overstuffed dark-blue couch sitting across from a dusty, new model TV. The carpet, like his own, was the standard cream, but here and there Serendipity had placed blue and green throw rugs. A couple of framed Dali prints hung on the walls, with 'The Persistence of Memory' getting the place of honor over the television. The end tables beside the sofa were stacked haphazardly with books and magazines, and a few had begun the conquest of the sofa. He had expected more silver, or yellow in her decorations, but nevertheless they seemed to fit her remarkably well.
Serendipity watched him as he surveyed her living room. She caught the quirk of his eyebrow when he saw the Dalis, and the half smile he gave at the mess on the couch. He filled the space with his presence without even trying, as if it was right for him to be there. Wishful thinking, Murphey, she chided herself. The man's just here to get some free java and a little peace. Not a little *piece*, got it? He's upset, he's feeling guilty, he's... falling!?
Walter swayed and stumbled, his eyes closing, the bag falling from his relaxing fingers. She rushed to close the space between them, but her efforts to support him only succeeded in dumping them both on the couch, with her body sprawled atop his. They looked at each other, frozen in the conflicting signals mind and body were sending. As they fell, Walter's hand had automatically tried to steady her waist, and now it rested at the smooth curve of her hip. The other was trapped somewhat lower. Suddenly, Walter didn't feel at all tired. Trying to dissolve the tension before it reached critical mass, he quipped, "This is familiar. Why do we always end up falling down together?" Serendipity smiled weakly, pretending to ignore the five-alarm fire that was sweeping her body.
"Sheer dumb luck. Happens all the time. At least you weren't wearing your glasses this time." Walter stared at her. Her eyes had turned pure silver with arousal, an arousal he shared. He could feel the last vestiges of control slipping away, and he gave in gladly.
"I left them in the glove compartment. I must have known I would see you." She swallowed. His hand was moving, slowly tracing the outline of her waist and hip. She shivered, sparks of pleasure traveling from head to toe. Her involuntary movement settled her more firmly on his body, and she could feel his arousal nestle firmly at the apex of her thighs. Her nipples rubbed against his chest, and began to harden; their sweet ache joining the other sensations that were rioting through her flesh. She tried to raise herself onto her arms, meeting his dark eyes.
"We shouldn't do this. We really, really shouldn't." He smiled.
"I know." The hand found the edge of her blouse and crept under it. She groaned as he caressed her bare skin, his feather light touches only teasing the aroused surface. I will *not* take advantage of this moment of weakness, he's feeling a perfectly natural response...Walter slid his hand under the waistband of her slacks, electing a gasp and a whimper. A perfectly *natural* response to released grief, one he'll regret in the morning. All, she told herself, I have to do is stand up, that's all.
Then he kissed her.
He captured her lips with his own, nibbling lightly until she welcomed him in. Serendipity's good intentions flew out of the window. With a sigh of surrender, she kissed him back, and let her hands roam freely across the cloth-shrouded surface of his chest. She groaned against his lips, this time in frustration, as her attempts to maneuver were repeatedly blocked by the confines of the couch. Walter chuckled huskily,
"Bed?"
"Bed." They rolled off the couch, holding on to each other's hand. It felt as if there was a current between them, an energy that sizzled along nerve endings and heightened each sensation to unbearable intensity. Serendipity never remembered how they made it to the bedroom. They were simply there, touching each other, teasing each other. Walter pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his muscular chest as slowly as possible. She swept her hands over the bronzed skin, reveling in the feel of the sparse hair sliding through her fingers. She spread tiny kisses all over, starting from the edge of his collarbone, across his broad shoulders, down to his nipples, around his belly button, to where his jeans cut off her access to his skin.
She growled greedily, and licked her lips, savoring the taste of him. But it wasn't enough, not yet. She wanted all of him. Her hands moved down to his fly, but Walter caught them with his own, and drew her up to face him. His eyes were nearly black with hunger as he whispered,
"My turn." He began unbuttoning her blouse, taking the time to stroke each new slice of skin revealed before moving on to the next button. It was a delicious madness. His breath came faster as he undid the last button and she shrugged the blouse to the floor. A few seconds later, her bra joined the other clothing on the floor. He cupped her small, firm breasts in his hands, brushing the sensitized nipples with his thumbs. When that elected a sigh of pleasure, he bent and began to flick his tongue over the very tips of her nipples. He alternated between them, gradually taking each one farther into his mouth. His large hands ran down her back, and danced around the waistband of her slacks. He undid the buttons quickly, and the slacks fell in a puddle of cream fabric. He invaded her panties with one finger, moving it slowly downward. Her hands kneaded his shoulders as her hips began to buck slightly. Finally he slid the underwear down off her hips and she stepped out of it, molding herself to his body. Her hands sought the fly of his jeans, and unzipped them quickly. The bulge in his white briefs radiated a heat she could feel answered in her own body.
"Walter, I need...oh god, I need you," She whispered as she freed his sex from its prison. They moved to the bed, soothing and arousing each other with urgent hands and softly spoken words. They paused for a moment as Serendipity found the small box in her nightstand drawer, and slid the latex sheath slowly over his erection. He rolled her beneath him, murmuring her name as he entered her. They moved together in an ancient rhythm, thrust and counterthrust, a rapidly increasing tempo of the sound of flesh meeting flesh and sounds of pleasure. Walter felt Serendipity spasm beneath him, heard her cry out his name as she reached the summit. As her most secret muscles fluttered around him, he, too, was lost to his shattering climax.
*******************
BRRRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG! Serendipity groaned, batting wildly for the alarm clock, before realizing it was the phone making the horrifying racket. She snatched the receiver just as a deep, masculine groan emanated for the lump of blankets beside her. She brought the receiver up to her lips and hissed,
"Unless you're calling about *lots* of money, go away!" There was a moment of shocked silence on the other end.
"Serendipity Murphey! Is that any way to talk to your mother?"
*********
The End. Feedback is worshipped!
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