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He kicked the door shut behind him, secretly feeling a bit like a romance novel hero, carrying her into his apartment like that, silver screen dramatic, her arms wrapped around his neck, her palm firmly pressed into the back of his neck.
He’d gotten over the initial shock of her kissing him so hard, her taking control of it, and he let her go a little wild on him and delighted in this new side of her that he had never seen, the one he’d only dreamed to be true.
She kept kissing him now as he carried her on his way to the couch, her tongue exploring the ridges of his teeth and the inside of his lips and he suddenly felt like the luckiest man in the entire universe, he had to be. After all the bullshit they’d just been through, all the confusing, obfuscated doors they’d opened, and now this, this kiss was a beam of light through the shadows, clarity amid the black. A surge of heat rushed through his body right to his groin, of course, and for once, he wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed by this effect she had on him. It only made him want her more.
He got closer to the couch and she stopped her assault of his mouth only long enough to emit a whimper from the back of her throat and make a quick upward nudge of her head toward his bedroom. She nudged toward it again and opened her eyes for the first time since she’d jumped into his arms. She’d made her decision already and he smiled against her mouth at the gleam in her eyes.
They’d spent far too many evenings on that goddamned couch anyway.
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The rational, methodical, enigmatic Dr. Scully had just assaulted her partner’s mouth like she was on a mission from God. Kiss him, Dana. I command you as a woman of faith. And she liked it. A lot. In fact, she may have loved it. But she was not one prone to using words with such significant implied meaning.
So she liked it. A lot.
He may have leaned in, and oh, what a sweet and slow agony it was, looking into his eyes and feeling him move closer, feeling the warmth of his hand on her neck, feeling her lips instinctively part in anticipation, and wondering if this was it, if it was finally time, after all this time...but she was the one who jumped in first, pushing her mouth onto his, her tongue searching, quickly losing any sense of control. She kissed him furiously, like they had only seconds to make up for years of unrequited lust.
It seemed instinctual when she jumped into his arms and he caught her, in one swift, smooth act, and she pressed herself snugly into the tight muscle of his jersey-covered chest and kept kissing him more, tasting him more, feeling his need, feeling the ache in her chest at the words that had just passed through the very lips she was caressing with her own, like an answer that couldn’t be spoken.
He’d taken her lead when she indicated the couch would be less than ideal. She was thinking in short, staccato sentences that ripped through her mind like lightning, telling her what she wanted and needed, not what she should do or should think about doing or should perhaps consider doing or not doing.
They’d had a bad few days. She was more than happy to turn the thinking part of her brain off for the first time in years.
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He broke their kiss to put her down--he sat on the edge of his bed after pushing his half-empty suitcase onto the floor with a clunk he was sure his downstairs neighbors appreciated.
She stood in front of him, trying to hide her effort at slowing her breath. He looked into her eyes and her knees grazed his.
“Hi,” she said, nearly shy, and he felt his stomach twist in a delicious anticipatory way.
“Hey, Scully.” He laughed and she did too, pulling her hair behind her ear. She moved inches closer, her breasts distractingly close to his face. Just a little closer and he could...if he wanted to...
Instead, he smoothed his hands under the shoulders of her black jacket and pushed it down, letting it slip down her arms and onto the floor. She took a quick breath in, her face a mix of innocence and uncertainty. She blinked and the corner of her mouth turned up into a smile. It was electric, taking something off her like that, hearing her breathe, seeing her smile, and he hoped she couldn’t notice exactly how much it turned him on.
He looked into her eyes and couldn’t ignore what her fingers were doing--at this point, tenderly plucking the buttons apart on her white blouse. Inch by inch they moved down, and he finally had to look, his eyes wandering over smooth white skin, the understated lace of her white bra, the flat of her stomach. She dropped the blouse to the floor and he thought he might cry.
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close, pressing his mouth against her skin just above her belly button. Her hand immediately went to his hair and she breathed out, the long exhale of someone who has waited far too long for something so very simple to feel so completely amazing.
His mouth open, he breathed against her soft skin after kissing it, lost in the meaning of it all.
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She never thought his mouth would taste so good, or that it would feel so hot and perfect against her skin. His breath on her stomach sent a shiver to her toes and she kicked off her three-inch heels, thereby bringing his mouth three inches closer to her breasts, which were aching to be touched in any sort of way he was willing to touch them.
He did just that, his mouth covering one hardened nipple through the fabric of her bra. She moaned for the first time, sending a blush over her chest at such a primal sound escaping her lips, a sound she’d reserved expressly for him a long time ago, but all of those other times she’d been alone and this time, he had heard her.
“Yeah,” he breathed against her breast. “Yeah.”
It was the urgency in that one simple word that made her pulse beat in regions further south of his mouth, and she tried to keep her composure when she thought that maybe, just maybe, he would move further...she couldn’t even carry out the complete thought. His hands were at the back clasp of her bra, and then it was falling off her body and her lips were parting and she was panting before his mouth moved over her skin, teeth gently tugging.
He started gently, and then opened his mouth more, his hands at her shoulder blades, his tongue exploring her breasts and his hair tickling her as he pressed closer. And it was deliciously forbidden, and she couldn’t help moaning more at that thought, the thought of her partner doing this. Skinner would write them up. He would have their asses if he knew. She felt so very naughty.
She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, then found herself pulling up on his t-shirt, bunching it up, seeking his skin to explore with her fingers. He parted from her breasts to pull his shirt over his head and toss it away. Then she got a little more courage and pushed him down onto the bed, straddling him with her knees before she could evaluate this action’s further implications to their careers and general livelihood.
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There were times when Scully’s bullheaded determination drove him a little bit nuts in a bad way. But when she pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him and kissed him hard with her naked breasts pressed into his chest, well, that was the kind of determination that drove him a little nuts in a good way.
He knew she could feel it now, how completely into this he was, how much more he wanted. He pulled her closer, his hand slipping through her hair to pull her mouth closer, one hand on the small of her back to push her down gently onto his hips. Their pants were still on, and though it was frustrating, it wasn’t nearly as frustrating as four or five years of blue balls he’d experienced working with her. Not even close.
It was actually very sexy, her pressing down, tentatively at first, onto his cock throbbing under his jeans. He could feel her heat as she rocked her hips closer, finally rubbing cloth-on-cloth, soft on hard. She whimpered and both her hands found his hair and pulled it while she sucked his tongue into her mouth. It pretty much killed him, metaphorically, her hot, wet mouth and the roll of her hips.
He flipped her over in one smooth motion and surprised her, just a little, when her back hit the bed. He stood up and looked at her, a few strands of hair over her blue eyes, her perfect breasts, her red, just-kissed lips, the seductive arch of her eyebrow.
He leaned down to unzip her pants and slide them off of her legs, slowly, enjoying the slow exposure of her smooth thighs and calves, and he wasn’t sure what he loved more, her legs or the white panties that hugged her hips and dipped deliciously below her navel.
“This is a dream.” He said it instead of thinking it.
“No it’s not,” she said with a smile.
The tone of her voice sent him a little closer to losing all his inhibitions. He bit his lip and nodded upward toward the headboard, a move he learned from her just moments ago. She slid up, resting her head on the pillow.
He laid next to her, his fingers quickly trailing over the waistband of her panties, the silk of her skin sending a tingle from his head to his toes. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her nose. He nuzzled his face into her neck, right under her ear, and she giggled softly.
The hollow of her neck smelled like Texas--the dust of a gravel road, rows of cornfields, a hint of rental car air freshener. When he ran his tongue lightly along the line of her neck, she moaned. He moaned back and did it again. She tasted faintly of sweat, but underneath it all, he detected the essence of her, recognizing it instantly in its familiarity, in the comfort it brought to him.
He kissed her collarbone, her shoulders, making his way down to her breasts again, because he was fairly sure at this point that he was addicted to how her nipples rose to his touch.
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She was addicted to the way her body responded to his touch--it was even more responsive than when she’d imagined being with him over and over again in her own guilty fantasies. He covered her with his body, sucking on a nipple, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked up to her with an expression so hungry it took her breath away.
“God, Scully,” he whispered, moving to the other side.
She closed her eyes, running her fingers over his shoulders, down his back, up his arms, and then took the same path again, feeling the hot, tight skin framing his muscles. She began to writhe under him, her body begging for more. She slung a leg over his, pulling him closer, wanting him so much closer. She could almost feel him deep inside of her already and she moaned, rubbing her hips against him.
She felt all wound up, like a top about to be released into its spin, and he moved his mouth down her stomach and ran his tongue along the edge of her panties and she wanted it so slow but so fast, she couldn’t decide, and then she realized he was hooking his thumbs under the sides of them and pulling them down her legs. She bit back a moan, tilting her head back as if by doing so she would be able to take a full breath of air, not the desperate little pants she’d been subject to over the past few minutes.
She felt him kiss the inside of her leg, starting at her ankles, and kept her eyes closed. It’s Mulder, she thought...he moved his mouth up each side, to the inside of her knees. It’s still him...and then the tops of her thighs, and then Mulder’s tongue flicking against the inside of her thigh and she spread her legs just a little bit more, not wanting to seem to eager for it even though her desire was driving every coherent thought out of her body. His breath on her skin...Mulder’s breath...and it wasn’t a dream when his tongue touched her there and her body snapped alive with a tingle that emanated from the exact spots he, he being Mulder, was now lapping at with his rough, hot tongue.
“You taste so good,” he growled before lapping at her again.
It was then she was lost, and couldn’t feel a single thing except for his mouth, couldn’t make a sound but moan, couldn’t see a thing but stars.
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He’d given up on polite, on being a gentleman, when he realized he couldn’t hold himself back any more. He had worked his way down her smooth, perfect body, pulled down her little white panties and silently sent a thank-you prayer to a God he wasn’t even sure existed, and there she was, completely naked, completely beautiful, and he realized they were just about as far from Jiffy Pop poppers as they could get at this point.
It was the two of them, alone, finally, and he was going to make her come, finally, and those two thoughts made him extremely happy. Finally.
And not only did she taste amazing, but the sounds she started making while he was going at it were all sorts of moans and whimpers that urged him on. He was enjoying himself, probably a little too much, but then again, who came up with that idea anyway?
The now-painful throbbing in his jeans became second to the feel of her heels rubbing his back as she pulled him closer with her fingers twined in his hair. She met his mouth with her own rhythm, her moans more insistent and urgent, and soon she was murmuring something about being so close, and her head was thrashing on the pillow and he kept going until she tensed up and he heard her.
“Mulder,” she moaned as she came, “Oh, Mulder, Oh, Jesus, Mulder.”
Mulder 3, J.C. 1. He felt pretty satisfied about that, licking her slowly, smiling as she jumped when his tongue passed over her over-sensitive clit.
He crawled up to her, kissing his way up, hitting spots he’d missed on his way down--her sides, her arms, her sternum, and then her mouth again, her parted lips stealing breath back from him. She thanked him generously, kissing and kissing him, long, slow kisses. He closed his eyes and let her kiss to her heart’s content.
Then he felt her hands go to the waistband of his jeans. “Why the hell are these still on?” she asked.
“Um,” he said with a sheepish grin. She kissed his bottom lip.
“Not um. Get them off.”
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She was still recovering from her orgasm, which was, hands-down, the best one she’d had in her life, as she watched him slide off the bed and obey her command. If only he was always this obedient, she thought as he took off his pants. She watched and felt her eyes widen when she realized that this was it. She was going to see him naked. Her heart beat faster and she bit her upper lip. He seemed less concerned, shedding his boxer briefs quickly and giving them another toss, and she wondered for a split second why he seemed so into tossing his clothes here and there. Was it a man thing?
But then she took in the full view of his lanky body—his strong shoulders, tight thighs, hardened abs, those lines from his torso to his groin that she yearned to run her tongue over, and of course there was his cock, in its full glory. He must have really liked going down on her, very much so, because he was...all sorts of adjectives sifted through her head as he walked over and slid onto the bed, on his back next to her.
“Like what you see?” he said, and she thought she heard a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“Hmmm,” she said, hesitating for only a second before she slid her hand over his belly and stroked him, one long, tight stroke with her hand. And the expression on his face was awe-inspiring, shocked and aroused and a little like he was ready to jump her bones and screw her until next Sunday.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighed as she stroked him more, and she loved the feeling of him, hot and hard in her hand, completely in her power for a few fleeting moments.
“Yes,” she whispered, rising over him and straddling one of his thighs.
“Yes?” He nearly squeaked it out and she thought she saw him gulp. She moaned softly at the feeling of his thigh pressed against her heat, her wetness, at how wet he’d made her when he made her come...
She ground into him and dipped her head to kiss him once, then hovered over his mouth as she moved her hips against his leg. He reciprocated, pushing his thigh up between her legs, pressing her flesh and sending sparks through her body.
“This,” she breathed between little thrusts of her hips, “is what the past few years have felt like for me. Teasing. Endless teasing.”
He smiled and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth, then pushed his leg into her again, making her moan. “Like that?”
She cocked her head to the side. “No.” Then she slid up to straddle his hips, his cock bobbing between her thighs. He sucked in a breath and she bit her lip before she let it slide through her folds once, one extremely hot slide that nearly made her swoon, then pulled her hips away from him with a smirk. “Like that.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just like that. Come on, Scully.”
She pressed her hand against his cheek and he opened his eyes again, looking at her with an expression that made her melt a little inside. “Look into my eyes.”
“Okay,” he said, and she thought she saw his eyes turn glassy for a moment, but the moment quickly passed when she slid onto him, all the way until he was settled deep inside of her, full and firm and real, so real she could barely handle it.
And she didn’t look away, and neither did he, when they started moving with each other, into and against each other, his hands reading her back and her hand steady on his cheek. She moved up and down on him, listening to him groan, feeling his fingers dig into the curves of her ass, pushing himself deeper. He felt amazing, filling her again and again, sending her nerve endings into overdrive.
He kissed her thumb with a smile and pushed his hips against her, raising her knees off the bed for an instant and making her gasp.
“Do it again,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.
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The hour was late by the time they ran out of energy and lay sweaty and spent in each others’ arms. Mulder’s head was reeling with the sensations and the sounds of being with her--he wasn’t quite ready to let time continue on, not knowing what the future may bring.
“I should go,” she murmured sleepily against his chest.
“I know,” he said, even though all he wanted her to do was stay the night. They needed rest--it had been an incredibly crazy few days, and he knew that if she stayed, most likely, there would be little rest to be had.
“I need a bath in my tub and my robe and my fluffy down comforter,” she said, stretching out her calves with pointed toes.
“Don’t let me keep you,” he said. “Who am I to consider myself more desirable than your fluffy down comforter?”
He felt her chin against his chest when she looked up with him with a smile. He smiled back, still giddy from feeling her wrapped around him, seeing her come on him, coming in her, and the fact that the world didn’t shatter, amazingly enough.
“It is a pretty comfortable comforter,” she said, kissing his chest.
“Aptly named, then.” He gave her a nod and a wink. She rolled off of his chest and began collecting her clothes. He watched her dress, nearly as beautiful to watch as the act of undressing her. Slipping on her panties, her bra, and those hot black pants that made her ass look so good every time she wore them.
She pulled on her shirt and buttoned it while intently watching him on the bed. There wasn’t much to watch. He was motionless and wasn’t sure if he would be able to get up for quite some time.
“Be safe on the way home,” he said. “Call me when you get there.”
She smiled. “Mulder, I can take care of myself. Still. Even after all this.”
She paused as she put on her jacket.
“But I’ll call you when I get home.”
He grinned and decided that even if it hurt, he was going to get out of bed to get a little more kissing in before she had to go. He slid off the bed and she tilted her head, smiling and parting her lips to catch his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Mmmm,” she murmured against his lips, her tongue teasing him. He felt his cock twitch and he couldn’t quite believe it had anything left after all that.
He pressed his forehead against hers and breathed in.
“Ouch,” she said, jerking away and rubbing her neck.
“What? What happened?” For a split second, he thought maybe she had pulled a muscle earlier on in the evening.
“I think...something stung me.” She pulled her hand away from her neck and between her fingers she held a squirming bee. “That fucking hurt.”
“Hmmm,” he said, wondering how a bee could travel all the way from Texas to D.C. in the collar of her shirt. He looked around her shoulder and rubbed her neck. “It must have...”
Suddenly he felt her sag, like she was passing out. He held her tightly with his arms around her waist. “Scully?”
“Something’s wrong...I’m having...lancinating pain in my chest...”
“You’re...what?” He held her tighter as she sagged more, then turned to lay her on the bed gently.
“My...motor functions are being affected. I’m...”
She was gasping for breath, her chest heaving. His heart raced as he scanned the room, trying to remember where he put his cell phone.
“My...my pulse feels thready and I’ve got a funny taste in the back of my throat...”
“I think you’re in anaphylactic shock,” he said, running his fingers over her cheek.
“Mulder, I’ve got no allergy...”