RETURN TO MAIN “TEETERING” PAGE
Teetering by MD1016
Spoilers: Fifth Season
Keywords: Mulder/Scully angst, romance
Summary: Mulder invites Scully to meet him at a bar, and she accepts.
Teetering by MD1016
Another summer ended. Autumn hit DC with a crisp, restless, anxious energy. It filtered through the chilly air, and left a buzz of pent-up mania itching through every cell in Mulder’s long body. He found it both exhilarating and frustrating. On nights like this, a simple brisk jog wouldn’t help.
So, he pulled into the 24hour parking lot, claimed his usual spot near the dumpster, grabbed his coat from the passenger seat, and slipped the cell phone from the pocket. Jackie’s Pub was just down the block. Mulder walked slowly through the drizzle. As he watched his shadow move over the slick cement, he put the cell phone to his ear.
One, two, three rings.
“You’ve reached Dana Scully. I’m not home now, please leave me a message.” —Beep—.
“Hey, Scully. I’m bored and wound up. I’ll be at Jackie’s if you want to reach me…or join me…”
OK…a little more desperate than he was going for, but she’d know how to take it. She’d just roll her eyes and give one of those exasperated sighs of hers and not even give it a second thought.
Whatever. For some reason — blame it on the changing of the seasons — he didn’t want to be alone that night.
Which meant, of course, that Jackie’s was destined to be dead. Not surprising for 8PM on a Tuesday night. There was one guy at the bar who looked like he was paying rent — been there, Mulder mused — and a couple in one of the booths sharing a bowl of fries and a few beers. A woman with long, dark hair slumped over her own mixed drink completed the winning atmosphere. Roy Orbison was on the juke box.
Mulder flashed a hand at the barmaid, who looked none too thrilled to see him again so soon. She nodded to one of the open booths, already gathering his usual: a pint of Guinness and a couple of vodka chasers to get the party rolling.
Fox Mulder, party of one.
“You look down,” the barmaid observed as she slid the glasses in front of him. She was a quick one for deducing the obvious.
Usually Mulder found her whiny soprano enticing. Not tonight.
“I’m having the time of my life,” he grumbled and threw back the first swallow of alcohol. It burned all the way down.
“You know, you’d be cute if you weren’t so charming.” Her glare told him he didn’t have a chance with her. And good riddance, Mulder thought. He didn’t like frosted blondes anyway.
Brunettes, always. Or a red-head…
What was it with the two of them, anyway? He knew the attraction was mutual, that kind of electricity couldn’t be one-way. Scully was everything he ever wanted in a woman crammed down into a compact five feet four inches and topped with a great head of red hair — smart, beautiful, independent, willing to put up with him.
That last one was a biggie. All the other women in his life had bailed after a year or two, but Scully stuck with him, even when she really didn’t want to.
It wasn’t like there hadn’t been ample opportunity; any night in five years — or had it been six? — led to possibilities. Six years?
“God. I need to get laid.” Mulder sipped through the head of his beer.
It had to be the work. At some point, without actually knowing it, their carefully constructed working relationship had become paramount in both of their lives. He should have realized it sooner, actually. When Scully withheld information from the congressional hearing while he was stuck in that God-forsaken gulag in the middle of Siberia, it should have clued him in, even if her repeated attempts to come to his defense against fellow agents and higher-ups hadn’t.
Honesty and integrity were a mantra for his partner, and she’d willingly sacrificed both again and again on his behalf.
Because he was as important to her as she was to him.
Yeah. Like his little jaunt to Antarctica to snatch her back from the bowels of that alien ship was a professional courtesy. Thank you, Mulder for rescuing me. No problem. All in a day’s work.
And as if thinking about her could conjure her up, she was suddenly there. “This seat taken?” Scully didn’t bother to wait for an invitation. “What’s the matter, Mulder, you look surprised to see me.”
“I guess I am.”
“You invited me.”
“I invite you a lot of places — women’s wet tee-shirt night at the Pig Sty comes to mind. You never show up, though.”
“Well, tonight I did.” She waved to the barmaid. “Whatever he’s having.” In the two hours since he last saw her, she’d changed into civvies: jeans, undershirt, cardigan and jacket. Her make-up and hair were still impeccable. “So what’s the trouble?”
“I get a call to meet you at a bar. In the middle of the week. In the middle of a case. I’m assuming there’s trouble.” She wore a wry smile. “Or were you looking for some female companionship and my number happened to be first on the speed dial?”
“You’re female, Scully?”
“Thanks.” She nodded as if she’d expected something along those lines, and then sat back in the booth and sighed. For a moment she played with the tip of her thumb nail. When she looked up at him again, there was a weariness in her eyes that made him want to touch her; take her hand, brush the hair from her face.
“Tara and Bill are pregnant again.” Obviously, the news didn’t thrill her. “Mom’s message was on the answering machine right before yours.” She stared at his empty shot glass. “She’s ecstatic, of course, but the tone in her voice was…apologetic.” Scully’s eyes, soft and blue, lowered. “When did people start walking on egg shells around me, Mulder?”
“I doubt that’s it,” he said to reassure her. It was a weird sensation; awkward, forced.
“It is. And I hate it.” Her drinks arrived and she scooped up the shot. “But you know what I hate even more? Not being able to be happy for Bill and Tara. Not being overjoyed that they’re able to have beautiful children.” She swallowed the shot in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the table. “What kind of a person does that make me?”
“Hateful. Selfish. It makes me a horrible person.”
Was she really looking for validation of her emotions? It was so unlike his normally stoic, independent partner. “C’mon, Scully.
You’re not a horrible person.”
She moved on to her Guinness. “I know,” she finally conceded. “I just don’t like feeling this way.” She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it aside. “Anyway, this is my misery, not yours. I shouldn’t bother you with it.”
“Hey, we’re partners. If it affects you, it affects me.”
That thought seemed to amuse her, even though she stuffed down the beginnings of a smile. “So,” she said through a deep breath.
“You weren’t expecting me. Does that mean I should be warned that some bombshell is going to saunter in here calling your name?”
“Oh, Scully,” he said demurely, pint up to his lip to hide the grin.
“You’re the only bombshell in my life.”
As passes go, it wasn’t one of his most subtle, but Scully didn’t seem to notice it at all. “I should order some food to go with this.
I haven’t eaten since this morning.” She gulped down a swallow or two, and Mulder became mesmerized by the movement in her throat. “This will all go to my head.”
Now there was a thought: Dana Scully drunk. Suddenly the night got a little more interesting.
“You should do it, you know,” he said. “If you want kids, there are dozens of ways you could get one.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. You’d make a great mother.” Again, reassuring her left him feeling a little off-balance.
She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, I don’t have the kind of lifestyle that lends itself well to being a single parent.”
“So get married.”
“Right. I’ll run right out and do that.”
She took another gulp. “Men aren’t exactly throwing themselves at my feet. Besides, I don’t know that I want to get married. I just want a baby. God, that sounds weird coming out of my mouth.”
“Not to me,” Mulder said honestly. For a moment, her eyes held his. “I get those feelings now and then, too.”
“You do?” He could tell she was trying to downplay her shock.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What’s to tell? Unlike you, I can’t just have a baby. I have to find someone who’s willing to do it for me, and the odds of that happening aren’t as good as they once were.”
Her face was painfully neutral as she asked, “Need I remind you that I can’t just have a baby either?”
Mulder winced. What had he been thinking? “No, uh, sorry.”
For a moment, the silence between them was thick and uncomfortable. Then Scully looked up at him with thoughtful eyes.
“You could try adoption…”
“I’m not exactly in a line of work that lends itself to single parenthood.”
“Hmm, I think I’ve heard something like that somewhere before,”
she said with a sarcastic playfulness that made Mulder smile. Her mood sobered instantly, though. “Well, if you want a child and I want a child, I guess the solution is obvious.”
Mulder froze. Her eyes were glued to the glass between her palms, making her expression impossible to interpret. His heart leapt to his Adam’s apple. She wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying. It was impossible, inconceivable that she would even suggest what he thought she was suggesting. And yet, as he held his breath he asked himself, what was so absurd about it? If he wanted a child, and she wanted a child…
The edges of her mouth turned up as she said with a dramatic sigh: “I guess the two of us are simply going to have to find another line of work.”
He chuckled a little to hide the surprising wave of hurt. And then played against all his years of psych training and dived head first into that pain just to prove to himself that he didn’t feel it in the first place. “Yeah,” he chortled. “Either that, or we could just have a baby together.”
Mulder had never seen beer come out of anyone’s nose before. It foamed more than milk.
Scully coughed and sputtered, grabbing for the cocktail napkins that were already ringed with water and tried in vain to mop the Guinness from her shirt and sweater. There was no doubt who’d won that round. The barmaid casually dropped a stack of napkins on their table as she passed, and Mulder grabbed a handful to help sop up the mess.
“You OK?” He couldn’t completely suppress his amusement. She nodded, but refused to meet his eyes, more flustered than he’d expected she’d be. “Sorry about that,” he said, trying to play the whole thing off as casually as possible. “Let me buy you another beer.”
“No, that’s OK. I should go.”
“Go?” Had he fucked it up that badly? “You just got here.”
“If I stay, I’ll drink. We both have to get up in the morning.”
“Stay,” he breathed. Her eyes dropped down to the hand he’d placed over her arm without even realizing it. Sheepishly, he removed it. “We’ll drink soda instead and order food. You said you haven’t eaten yet.”
For a moment or two she just sat there looking at him, sizing him up. “What’s going on, Mulder?”
“What do you mean?”
“How much have you had to drink already?”
“Just this,” he said, indicating the glasses. “Look, Scully, go if you want. But don’t go because of some stupid comment I made, OK?”
She shook her head guiltily. “That’s…that’s not it, Mulder.” She sighed and rubbed the side of her neck. “We’re in the middle of a stressful case, and I’m feeling emotional tonight. And you’re obviously in a weird mood. I just think this whole situation is…”
Is what, Scully? Dripping with potential? “Dangerous?”
“Well…I wasn’t going to put it like that, but yeah.” She ran a finger around the mouth of her beer mug. “It’s like we’re… teetering, balanced so perfectly that one wrong move might send us over the edge.”
“Teetering?” He guessed it was as good an account of the anxious energy as anything else. “And that’s bad?”
She frowned and stared past him. “Not bad…well, maybe. If we…fell…I’m not sure I could ever go back. I’m not sure I’d want to.”
Back to what? Mulder sat back and blinked. Gradually it dawned on him that it wasn’t her pathos she was describing; it was a metaphor for something that was happening between them. Why did women always have to wrap everything in metaphors? “What are we talking about here, exactly?”
She smiled uneasily as she realized that they weren’t on the same page, then she shook her head and grabbed her jacket. “I’m going home.”
“Come home with me.” Was he really propositioning his partner?
It didn’t feel as inappropriate as it sounded to his ears.
“Good night, Mulder.”
“Good night, Scully.” Then he added as she turned to leave, “Maybe next time you’ll show up on wet tee-shirt night, too.”
Without turning around she quipped, “Maybe next time you’ll offer to make me dinner, instead.”
Was that some kind of a hint? At the pub’s door, she stopped to shrug on her jacket. If he didn’t want her to walk out that door, he had to think fast. Did he have any fresh food in the house? “Hey, Scully?” She turned to look back at him. “Come home with me.
I’d like to make you dinner.”
She tried to smile; it made her look scared. “You cook?”
“I can. When I apply myself.” He slipped a twenty from his wallet and grabbed his coat. “But if you don’t want to chance it, I know an Italian place that serves great shrimp fettuccini. Just a couple of blocks from here.”
She gazed out into the wet night. “I came here tonight…because…”
She hesitated, unsure.
“Because I called?”
Scully shook her head. “Because I didn’t want to be alone. Again.”
Her face was sad and sincere. “I never feel alone when I’m with you.” Then, she rolled her eyes self-consciously. “Of course I don’t…if I’m with you I’m not alone.” She gave a dismissing shake of her head.
The need to touch her flared again, and in a moment of panic, Mulder grabbed her head and kissed her hard on the mouth. And it was panic. It had to be. His heart was a jackhammer in his throat.
Soft, warm lips slick with lipstick moved under his own, pressing and nipping as they kissed. It was an amazing sensation, thrilling.
His stomach fluttered when she wrenched the front of his shirt even closer. His head was light and spinning around one thought: Scully.
Her tongue spiked between his lips, searching. The tip of his sparred with hers for a moment before sliding into the heat of her mouth. Vodka and beer. And lipstick. So deliciously feminine, so Scully.
The kiss broke when she jerked out of his arms, flushed and panting. Her wet mouth hung open, her moist, round eyes stared at him in shock.
“Mulder,” she whispered breathlessly. Her jaw continued to work, but she didn’t finish the thought. He nodded, understanding completely.
That was some kiss.
“Uh…” Dazed, she blinked a few times, lifted her finger tips to her lips, and cleared her throat. “I – I think…I think I’m going to go home now.” Scully quietly collected her jacket that had dropped to the ground.
Mulder’s head was spinning. He wanted to reach out and grab her to stop her from leaving. “Scully…don’t-”
“Come with me,” she whispered, barely audibly.
He found himself nodding, and wondered if they’d make it the twenty-five minutes back to her apartment. Twenty-five minutes was hours too long for them to sit beside each other in the car; too much thinking time, too much time to lose nerve. They’d never survive the drive without second thoughts.
On an impulse, Mulder grabbed her hand and pulled her through the pub and out the back door. The dark alley smelled of rubbish and urine.
“Where are we…?” Apparently Scully decided mid-sentence that she didn’t really want to know, because she closed her mouth and simply followed as he led her down the long alley and out onto McDougal Street. Half a block down on the opposite side of the street, the MacDougal Street Inn still had its vacancy sign lit. The rooms there were small but clean on the few times Mulder had been forced to visit their establishment completely wasted and unable to bring himself to suffer through the taxi ride home.
In the tiny lobby the man working the desk didn’t bother to look up from the baseball game on the black and white portable he held in his lap. He took the credit card Mulder tossed at him, ran it through the press, and handed back a room key. Beside him, Scully didn’t say a word.
Their room was up a poorly lit staircase, and down a winding narrow hall. Scully eyed the room skeptically, like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to draw her gun and check under the bed or not.
To Mulder’s relief, though, she merely sighed and dropped herself heavily in the single over-stuffed red velour chair. “Are we going to have sex now?”
Mulder cringed. If you have to ask…
“I just thought we needed some time alone,” he said sheepishly.
Had she already had enough time for second thoughts?
“Here?” Her eyes ran doubtfully over the faded floral wallpaper.
The single lamp beside the bed had a five watt bulb in it, casting more shadows than light. It left her profile in stark relief from what little illumination came in from the window. “This is the kind of place you take someone for a one night stand.”
Mulder lowered his brows, concerned. “Is that what you think this is?”
She shrugged. “No. But I can’t help but wonder…” The dim light in the room made her eyes glisten darkly.
“What other women you’ve brought here.” With her head resting against the back of the chair, tilted to watch the rain run down the window in rivulets, she looked tired and forlorn. “And what does this make me?”
“A conquest? Another notch on your bed post?”
“Why would you…? Is that really what you think of me? Of us?”
She met his gaze. “No.” Then she sighed and turned back to the window. “No, of course not. I told you I’m feeling emotional tonight.” She shook her head lazily against the chair. “I…should just go,” she murmured, but didn’t make a move to get out of the chair.
Mulder studied the grim set of her pouty lips, her heavy lids, small hands gripping the over-stuffed arms of the low-set chair. Her listless ennui was scaring the shit out of him. It wasn’t like her at all. This was a dark side of his partner that he would’ve sworn didn’t exist. He was a little frightened to find out that it did.
“Scully, what’s really going on with you?” She didn’t turn to him.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
For a moment, she just sat there, licked her lips and swallowed. “I got a call this morning. Early. Five a.m. Skinner asked if I would meet him for breakfast.”
“Skinner?” Mulder didn’t like the nervous twinge that was twisting in his stomach. Did she often have breakfast with their boss? The twinge blossomed into nausea. “What did he want?”
Her eyebrows lifted and she remarked lightly, “I was offered a promotion. He wanted me to think about it before I saw you…he wanted me to take it.”
“What kind of promotion?”
“Second in charge of VC Forensics in L.A. The director out there will be retiring in four years. They want to groom a successor. I’d be the youngest Director of Forensics in the history of the FBI.
Better pay, better hours. A tremendous opportunity.”
“You’ve given this some thought,” Mulder said grimly.
She sighed. “I have. But only after the fact. I turned it down flat.”
He tried not to show the relief that flooded through him, both chilling his blood and warming his soul. Scully, though, still looked grim. “Why?”
She looked at him hard then. “Do you really have to ask that?”
He didn’t have to ask. It just didn’t make any sense for her to give up forwarding her career to stay with him. Scully of all people had to know that if you say no enough, they stop asking. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“Honestly? Because I didn’t want you to try and talk me into leaving. Not even in some selfless act of looking after my own good. And I figured Skinner would tell you, anyway. He was furious when I wouldn’t even consider it.”
Was she regretting it now? Was that the problem? “Maybe you should consider it.”
“It’s too late. I said no.”
“It doesn’t matter, Mulder; as nice is it is, it’s not real. You know it and I know it. In the eyes of the Bureau I’m a trouble maker; blacklisted. My file has more reprimands than yours, I think, because after a while they just stopped bothering with you. You never cared.” She sighed. “There’s no way that this promotion is really just that. Disobeying protocol and lying to superiors never amounts to reward.”
“…Then why would they…?”
Her eyebrows raised, surprised by his lack of insight. “You.
Haven’t you told me a hundred times, it’s not about me, it’s always about you. You. And anything that touches me is filtered through you.”
“But, Scully, if you take the position, regardless of why, it would be a real job. That you would do well. You could still gain something positive out of your time with me.”
Scully shook her head. “It’s impossible. I couldn’t leave, even if I wanted to. I don’t function outside of you.” She pushed herself up from the chair and stood with her back to him, gazing out the window. The darkness outside glowed blue around her, shadowing her figure. Slowly she faced him, and began to unbutton her blouse.
“Apart from you…to everyone but you…I’m a mangled, shell of a human being, I’m a punch-line at parties to help people feel better about their own pathetic lives. I’m not a complete person anymore.
I’m Mrs. Spooky.”
Her blouse slipped from her shoulders to pool at her heels.
Mulder’s mouth went dry as she began on the button at her waist.
“My family doesn’t even know me anymore. But I can’t really blame them; I don’t know me. Except when I’m with you. Alone I’m the victim of a corruption that goes so beyond the government it’s laughable. With you, I’m normal.” She smoothed her hands over her hips, and her jeans dropped around her ankles. “Do you have any idea how much I crave normal?”
“Scully…” he whispered, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
His racing heart leapt into his throat when she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. Her whole body hid in the shadow, haloed in the soft glow of the window. She was like a vision from a dream, hovering just out of reach, in obvious distress.
“Scully,” he started again, wanting to comfort and ease the suffering he didn’t understand. She continued to undress, slowly and methodically, until her panties hit the floor and she toed them to the side.
“Now I’ve fallen, Mulder.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve jumped.” It was too dark to see the tears on her face, but he could hear them in her voice. She was frightened, and it terrified him. His Scully was never scared. “Do normal people teeter?”
Mulder pushed himself off the bed and ended up on his knees at her feet, his arms around her slender waist, his face buried in the smooth flesh of her stomach. He opened his mouth and let his tongue kiss her just above her hip bone.
She wants this, he realized. That’s what it was all about.
Teetering…falling in love…craving what everyone else always took for granted…
Mulder looked up to find her intelligent eyes watching him, seeing him, glistening in the dimness. One tiny tug and she was straddling his lap, her bare breasts pressed against his chest. He hugged her close to him, cradled her, stroked her hair back from her moist cheeks. The feel of her arms holding him back settled the ache in his chest. Her skin was impossibly smooth.
It took nothing at all to lean forward the extra inch and close his mouth over hers.
Instantly she came to life in his arms. Unlike before, this kiss was urgent and needy. Her cropped hair tangled in his fingers as she rocked against him. Over and over her lips assaulted his, teeth nipped, her hands worked frantically at the buttons on his shirt. A little too frantically; two popped off.
“Sorry,” she muttered as she breathed against his mouth. He didn’t care, her hands had made it inside his shirt and her fingers began a thorough exploration of his chest and stomach. How long had it been since he’d been touched by loving hands?
How long had it been for her?
With hungry abandon, Scully lavished kiss after kiss across his flush skin. Her nails scratched lightly at the sensitive flesh at his sides, and his already painful erection went into over-drive. With what little motor coordination he had left, Mulder wormed a hand between them and tugged at his belt, and somehow managed to tighten it a notch.
Her amazing tongue returned to his face to lap roughly over his bottom lip and chin as she brushed his hands away and unfastened his belt and pants. That was the Scully he knew: taking control of the situation. Once his erection was freed, she rocked forward in an attempt to impale her hot, wet body on him. “Not yet,” he squeaked out. “I…you…”
“What?” she murmured between kisses to his neck. She continued to writhe in his lap. “You want a condom?”
“Condom?” What the hell was she talking about?
“I don’t have any.”
“Neither…neither do I.”
She pulled back a little, her lipstick smudged over her swollen lips.
“Is this a problem?”
Problem? Why did there have to be a problem? “No…” He couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, so he kissed her again, and slowly, slowly pushed her off his legs and laid her on the well-tread carpet. It wasn’t until he was kneeling over her that the burning pin-pricks woke in his calves and feet. They made kicking off his pants both clumsy and painful.
“What’s the matter?” Scully, on her back, watched him struggle with concern on her face.
“Feet are asleep.”
She started to sit up, but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. Now that he had her where he wanted her, he wasn’t about to let her become Dr. Scully. “Forget it,” he urged with a deep kiss. One which she returned in kind.
Leaning on one elbow, Mulder hovered over her, and began his assault. He nipped and suckled down her neck and shoulder, loving the high-pitched sighs she cooed, urging him on. He dipped lower to trail kisses down the valley between her breasts, running his fingers over one hard nipple while he raked his teeth over the other.
Her fingers wove through his hair, and she arched up into his working mouth. She tasted amazing; faintly sweet, intoxicating.
One of her hands reached down and pulled his leg over hers. His cock leapt at the friction of her rocking hip.
Mulder whimpered as he crawled between her thighs, wanting so desperately to sink inside her body, to melt into her and become part of her. Her fingers squeezed at her own nipples, and then reached out for his. His cock twitched again, thick and tight. She was going to kill him if she kept that up.
Lucky for him the head of his shaft pressing against her slick folds distracted her enough to spread her legs wider. Her fingers reached down, wrapped around his root, and she pulled him firmly against her. And then he sank, slowly and blissfully into her depths.
They moaned in unison, breathing and relishing the sensation, the amazing physical connection. Her legs lifted and curled around his hips, and he sank in a little deeper, a little tighter, a little hotter…
“Hard,” she whispered, her breath hot in his ear.
Somehow he knew she’d want it hard.
Mulder dug his knees into the carpet, and the heels of his hands into the floor by her head, and with his eyes full of the amazing beauty of her face he began to thrust into her perfect body. She grabbed for his arms to steady herself, and then began a counter-rock, matching each of his movements with one of her own.
She was magnificent, eyes closed, biting her bottom lip, hair splayed like a fire burst around her pale face. The light from the window made her skin seem to glow. Her mouth fell open, and Mulder couldn’t resist the temptation. He bent his head and claimed her lips, thrusting his tongue hard as he bucked into her. She answered the kiss, sucking and tugging.
All too quickly, his climax began to build.
He continued to pump into her, though, urged on by her clawing hands on his ass and her ragged breath as she murmured his name over and over. He bit his lip in a last ditch effort to wait for her, hoping the pain would distract him long enough for her to reach completion. His release exploded, though, too hard and fast to hold back. With what little control he had left, he tried to continue bucking into her. Her eyes, though, clamped tightly shut in a grimace, stilled his hips. Even his heart stopped.
“I can’t…” Her voice broke and she lifted the back of her hand over her eyes.
Can’t? Can’t what? Come? Make love with him? Ever look him in the eye again? “What?” He gasped, realizing he’d been holding his breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just can’t.” Her hands smoothed over the muscles of his shoulders, and she tried to smile for him. “Sometimes I can’t.”
Mulder shifted over her to withdraw, and her eyes closed and mouth opened at the pleasure of that small friction. Maybe it wasn’t that she couldn’t come, maybe she just needed more stimulation.
More focused stimulation. “I think you can, Scully.”
She opened her eyes and looked hard at him. “You think I’m holding back?”
He considered her question. “Or maybe you were spurring me forward.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to his chest. “Mulder, get off me.”
“Are you playing games with me, Scully?”
“Mulder, I said get off me.”
“What are you’re afraid of? That I’ll make you come? What does that mean to you?”
“Do you always psychoanalyze after sex?”
“No, this is during. You haven’t had your turn, Scully.”
“I told you I can’t, Mulder.”
“Don’t push me away, Scully,” He whispered, dropping down to his elbows. “It’s me. You have nothing to hide from me.” He felt her inner muscles contract briefly around his shrinking erection.
She was responding to him — to his voice in her ear, to the words he murmured. “I just came inside you. Doesn’t that mean anything?
My semen’s inside your body.” He kissed her ear and her hand grabbed at is shoulder, tugging him closer. “You know you can trust me. You know I trust you — only you.” Her legs lifted again, rubbing against his thighs and hips. “Scully, let me love you —”
She grabbed his head and forced his mouth down over hers, her lips wide, tongue desperately searching. He kissed her hard, all too aware of her rocking hips below him and his unfortunately flaccid state.
Well, nothing to be done about that for a while.
With one elbow to support him, Mulder half-rolled to the floor and found the tight knot of nerves hidden inside the slippery folds between her legs. She jerked under him and whimpered.
Apparently, she liked it.
He flicked his finger over the sensitive spot a few more times, and her mouth slowed beneath his. Multi-tasking was never one of Scully’s strong suits. She tended to focus completely.
“Good?” As if he couldn’t tell. She nodded a little, and brought her hand up to her own breast. There was nothing sexier than Scully fondling her own nipple. Mulder felt the limp flesh between his legs stir a little, but not enough. It didn’t matter much. Mulder knew how to improvise.
Without depriving her body of its simple pleasure, Mulder inched his way lower. The smell of sex was thick and heavy, and it clung to her smooth skin like thick, smoky honey. He kissed her breast in passing, her stomach both above and below her navel, evoking gasps and grunts of delight. She was amazing, writhing there, allowing herself to indulge. Her hands kneaded ruthlessly at her breasts, her head tilted back, her mouth open and panting. She was a vision of sexual delight.
Mulder settled himself between her legs and licked his lips. Always an oral man, he never had a problem with going down on a woman.
He looked at it as a necessary means toward pleasure; women always loved it. But this time, as he raked his fingers through the slippery mass of curls, Mulder realized he was looking forward to it — wanting to taste her for himself as well, wanting to kiss her slick core.
He pressed her open and experienced the essence of Scully for the first time. Not just the smoky, richness on his tongue, but the delicate gasp as he closed his lips over her, the feel of her fingers on his scalp, the way her thighs flew open just for him. His flaccid cock burned, swelling so soon with new blood.
With an eagerness that surprised even him, Mulder lapped at her fleshy nub, then alternated between swirling his tongue around it and wrapping his lips around it and suckling. Her thighs flew open, her hands buried themselves in his hair. She moaned almost incessantly, and Mulder found his own hips were rocking in time with hers, the carpet ultimately less comfortable and more coarse than she’d been.
Two fingers inside her sped up the process, and within minutes she bucked hard and choked out a cry. Mulder rode the crest with her, sucking hard, until she relaxed back on to the floor, shaking gently and convulsing around his fingers. She whimpered something about amazing and never so good, but Mulder didn’t hear much of it. The blood was already surging through his ears again, the tight erection he’d thought impossible ached to be inside her again.
“Again…” It was all he could get out before she grabbed his root and guided him back to where he most wanted to be. And as he sank inside her warm wetness, he kissed her deeply. Their tongues caressed, sharing in the taste of their first union. It felt so right to be deep inside her. It felt wonderful and exciting and peaceful all at the same time.
“Again,” she whispered to him as their lips parted. “Again.”
He set up a rhythm, slower this time for his own benefit, rocking in and out of her, savoring the sensual bliss of her slick body surrounding him, pulling him closer to the inevitable.
“Oh…God…” Her eyes closed behind a cringe. “I can’t believe it…it’s happening….again…”
“Don’t fight it,” he murmured tenderly. “Let it come.”
Her face relaxed and she looked reverently up at him. Moments later, those same eyes grew wide and glassy, and she went rigid beneath him. She cried out as she came, incoherent and full of awe.
And when she finally came down from her peak, Mulder’s name was on her lips.
“So this is what it feels like to be normal.”
Mulder smiled at her euphoria. And she began to rock beneath him, slowly, matching his cadence. They made love like that for a while, gazing into the shadows of each others eyes, until Mulder climaxed and then collapsed, satiated. It was another moment or two before her hips lay still beneath his. A few minutes passed before Mulder was able to breathe again, and he realized that she was trying to catch her breath, too, and that his weight wasn’t helping. He lifted himself up on shaky arms and rolled off to one side.
“I…” she began almost timidly. “I never know what to say…” On her back, one hand limp on her stomach, the other above her head, naked and satisfied, Scully was a goddess.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He smoothed a hand over her middle, unable to stop touching her. “You want to take this party to the bed?”
“In a minute.” She sighed deeply, laced her fingers through his.
“You know, when I heard your voice on my machine tonight, I thought something like this might happen.”
“I didn’t,” Mulder admitted as he placed a kiss on her shoulder.
“I actually turned around and started driving home again at one point.”
That surprised him. Mulder looked up and found her eyes, dark in the dim light, shining at him. “What made you turn around?”
“Fear, I guess.”
“Then what made you show up?”
She gave a little shrug. “Fear, I guess.”
She rolled to him then, pressed her stomach against his, her breasts against his chest. “Of teetering. Forever.”
Acknowledgments: It’s only right to thank the people who helped me to finish this; Allegra, Nic and Lorie for your comments and suggestions. And Dia, of course, who worked her magic to fix and edit so I wouldn’t be embarrassed — and who only made fun of my spelling once.
Ever try Denial?
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