Date: 10 Jul 2004 00:56:02 -0000
Subject: Wildwash by OKayVal
Category: Vignette, Romance
Archive: Honored; just tell me where.
Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill
Cover Art: Donnilee
Summary: Leaving the past behind…
Written for Haven’s “Ride ‘Em Cowboy” Challenge (elements at the end). There really is a ghost town called Wildwash that’s near Victorville, where the end of “Closure” took place. It does have mine shafts, but the rest of the description is my own.
Thanks to sybil for the challenge and a big “woohoo” to Tali for the beta.
“Tonight I’m gonna shed this skin And I’ll be breathin’ free air…”
—Bruce Springsteen, “Trouble River”—
The radio crackled and she was tempted to turn it off. She was tired of looking for a station to tune into, to help cover the heavy silence which hung between them as the car sped down the dusty California highway. Mulder had not said much to her since they left Victorville, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. There did seem to be a calmness surrounding him, and she hoped that he really meant what he said last night, under the stars, when he took her in his arms and declared again that he was free from his demons.
Music suddenly burst from the dashboard speaker and she decided to leave the radio alone for the time being when she saw Mulder’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. She turned her attention to the window, although there had not been much to look at for the past few miles except a panorama of sand and dry brush. The scenery had not changed, but she caught sight of a sign on the side of the road and waited eagerly for the car to pass it so she could read what it said. “Wildwash Mining Town – Next Exit 2 Miles.”
“Mulder, can we stop there?”
“That mining town. I’d like to get out and stretch my legs.”
“Why there, Scully?”
“Don’t tell me you’d turn down the chance to explore a ghost town, Mulder.”
He chuckled and nodded, and together they watched for the exit.
The road twisted and grew dustier and they bounced and bumped along it until they reached a sign proclaiming they had arrived in Wildwash. There was one wide street lined with stone buildings and a few mine shafts. Another sign warned that the mines were still in operation, but the street was quiet and there was nobody in sight.
Mulder parked the car and she got out slowly, stretching and rubbing her neck to get the stiffness out. Mulder appeared by her side, his hands gliding along the side of her neck.
“Let me do that.” His touch was warm and soothing, and she felt a little burst of pleasure uncurl within her, remembering how his hands had felt last night, when he had touched her in places other than her neck, places that seemed as though they existed only for his touch.
She brought herself back to the moment and stepped away from him. “Thank you. That’s much better. Let’s take a walk, Mulder.” She started down the middle of the street, heedless of the dust clouding around her suit and her shoes. Mulder followed close behind, and they studied the empty buildings and rusty mine shafts. This wasn’t like any ghost towns she had visited before; this was a place where people still worked but no longer lived.
“This doesn’t feel very ghostly,” she told Mulder.
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts, Scully,” he replied, giving her the grin that she was afraid she might never see again, until last night.
“I don’t. But I like old west towns. I like Westerns.”
“You do? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Charlie loved them. I’d sit and watch them with him sometimes. What about you, Mulder? I thought all boys liked to play cowboys.”
“I preferred to play astronauts.” The grin grew wider and she returned it with one of her own.
“I’m not surprised. Weren’t there any westerns you liked? Charlie’s favorite was ‘Bonanza’.”
They continued walking to the end of the street, stopping in front of a large shed, the wood dried out and worn from the sun. Mulder forced open the heavy door and peered inside, but it was dark and musty, so he shut the door quickly and turned back to her.
“I did like ‘Wild Wild West’.”
“I don’t remember that one.”
“You’re kidding. Robert Conrad? These two guys worked for the government and traveled around in this fancy train, hunting down the bad guys. It was a Western, but with a twist. They used all kinds of gadgets to get themselves out of trouble, and there was this evil doctor that was always inventing stuff that never existed in the 1800’s, and he’d use the inventions to try and take over the world. Robert Conrad stopped him every time. It was pretty offbeat.”
“No wonder you liked it.”
“Hey. Just for that, I’m going to have to subject you to a ‘Wild Wild West’ marathon when we get home.”
“Does Robert Conrad ride a horse and wear chaps?”
“No chaps, but he did have some pretty tight pants.”
“Well, I prefer chaps, but I guess I can live with tight pants.”
“Why, Scully, I never knew you had a thing for cowboys.”
“Maybe there’s just something about a man with a gun.”
He laughed and stepped closer to her, drawing her to him. She could still see that calmness in his face, but there was something else in his eyes. A new light. He noticed her scrutiny and stopped laughing.
“It’s just wonderful to hear you laugh, Mulder. I guess I’ve been worried about you. And after everything that happened last night, that you might feel differently about it all today.”
“I don’t, Scully. I told you, I’m free. I really do feel like the weight has been lifted.”
“So you don’t feel different about…anything?” She couldn’t keep the slight quiver out of her voice. His eyes darkened and his arms tightened around her.
“No. Nothing. I meant every word I said to you, Scully. I should have said them a long time ago. That’s the only thing I regret.”
He took her face between his palms and brought his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sensuous and her pulse quickened. As much as she wanted him, she knew this really wasn’t the place. She gently broke the kiss and ran her fingers across his full lips.
“I think we should go.”
“It’s a ghost town, Scully. The ghosts don’t care.”
“No, but the miners might. It’s still a working mine, Mulder. And I don’t want to miss our flight. I want to go home. With you.”
Mulder said nothing aloud, but his eyes glowed with a green-gold light as he took her hand and led her back down the dusty street. Despite the dust and the ghosts, she felt clean and alive.
They returned to their car; Mulder started the engine and they left Wildwash behind. The radio still crackled and hummed but the static no longer bothered her. She stole a glance at him; his eyes were on the road but she could see his brows narrowed in thought. As they reached a stop sign, he turned to her.
Have one character tell the other about
a western they watched as a kid –
real time or reruns. 1000 words.
Date: 11 Jul 2004 14:08:05 -0000
Subject: Wild Wild Mulder by OKayVal
Title: Wild Wild Mulder
Category: Story, Romance, PWP!
Archive: Honored; just tell me where
Cover Art: Donnilee
Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill.
Summary: Sequel to “Wildwash.” A conversation about cowboys gives Mulder an idea.
Thanks to xdksfan for the super beta, and to mimic117 for letting me borrow… well, she knows!
This one is for Tali, with love—not only is she queen of the stalkers, she’s queen of the betas. My fic and I would lost without her. Happy Happy Birthday!!
“I wanna be a cowboy And you can be my cowgirl…”
He’s intrigued, she can tell. Has he been thinking about this since they left Wildwash? His glance alternates between the road ahead of him and back to her. She can’t help but smile.
“Really, Mulder. Chaps.”
He keeps his gaze on her for a moment, then turns his attention back to the road. She studies his profile and tries to wrap her mind around everything that has happened over the last twenty-four hours. A very emotionally charged twenty-four hours. Her skin still tingles from his touch and she hopes that feeling never disappears. And now she’s admitted to him that chaps turn her on. It had somehow come up during their conversation about cowboys back in Wildwash. She thought cowboys looked mighty fine in chaps. She’d wondered once about how Mulder would look in chaps, then dismissed it as an unobtainable fantasy. But there was a time when she thought making love with Mulder was also just a fantasy. Now it’s real, so very real. She closes her eyes, letting the static on the radio hum along with her memories, and dozes off.
Her nap ends with their arrival at the car rental lot and Mulder’s gentle brush against her cheek, the way he always wakes her.
“Scully? We’re here. What were you dreaming about? Must have been awfully good, by the look on your face.”
“Oh, it was, Mulder.” She chooses not to divulge any more.
Their flight back is free from turbulence and she’s able to catch another catnap. Mulder drives her home from the airport; he’s been strangely quiet for most of the journey home, but she assumes he’s still processing what he’s learned about Samantha. She unlocks her apartment door and looks at him. He hovers behind her, uncertain, almost nervous. She knows what he’s waiting for. She pushes the door open, steps inside, and turns to face him.
“Aren’t you coming in?”
It’s all she needs to say. Mulder crosses the threshold and shuts the door behind him. She sets her luggage down and walks to her bedroom, Mulder close at her side. Last night they shared their first encounter in the dull surroundings of a Victorville motel, but tonight she will have him in her own bed.
And have him she does; as they enter the room, Mulder grabs her arm and pulls her to him for a kiss. She expects hot and wild like their first time, but instead he takes his time, kissing her slowly and deeply; she feels the heat spreading through her with every stroke of his tongue against hers. His hard need presses against her belly and she trembles with sweet anticipation.
Mulder breaks the kiss and begins to unbutton her blouse. She starts to help him but he stops her.
“Let me do this.”
She lets him remove her blouse, her bra, her slacks, her panties. He moves slowly, deliberately, stopping to kiss her inflamed skin as he removes each item of clothing. Finally naked, she pushes Mulder closer to the bed and starts to undress him. She tries to follow the pace he’s set, but she can’t do it; the ache between her legs is delicious but she needs to have him inside her soon. Once his shirt is off and her hands can roam his muscular chest, she abandons her self-control and yanks roughly at his belt. Mulder laughs but he’s too aroused himself to let her struggle, so he helps her with the belt. She does just fine with the zipper, and Mulder soon stands at her bed, hard and ready for her.
He’s given up on the pacing, too, pulling her onto the bed with him. She settles on her back, and he moves between her legs and pushes inside her. Now he is fast and deliberate, and that delicious ache builds with each stroke, until it shatters her, and she cries out at the force of it. Mulder thrusts once more, sharp and deep, and shatters with her.
The alarm buzzes and she slaps at it, her eyes almost closing again before she remembers Mulder. She rolls over to find him already awake, watching her steadily with those kaleidoscope eyes.
“Good morning, sunshine.” He rolls toward her for a kiss, nipping at her lips, but she stops him with her finger.
“No time. We’ll be late for work, Agent Mulder.”
He falls back against the pillow with a groan. She fights the urge to tickle him because she knows the horseplay will turn into foreplay and then they really will be late for work. Instead she gets out of bed and out of Mulder’s reach.
“You’re no fun anymore, Scully.” He pretends to pout and she throws a towel at him.
Mulder realizes he’s not going to win this one and gets out of bed. She leaves the room, sneaking just a quick peek at his beautiful naked form. No sense in tempting herself with a longer look; they really do have to get to the office.
After spending all morning finishing their report on the events in California for Skinner, Mulder shuts down his computer and dons his jacket.
“Scully, I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
“Why? Are you OK, Mulder?” He’d seemed fine yesterday, but maybe working on this report had brought back some of the pain, and he wasn’t as free as he’d first thought.
“I’m fine,” he says, flashing white teeth at her. “I just have some things I need to take care of. I’ll call you later.”
He’s gone, just like that. She’s annoyed; after the last couple of days, why would he feel he still has to keep any secrets from her? She decides he must just need some time alone to gather his thoughts about Samantha, so she ignores her frustration and turns back to her computer.
It’s well past five o’clock and she’s tired of waiting for Mulder’s call. She closes up the office and heads to her car. As she makes the turn out of the parking garage, her cell phone rings.
“Hey, Scully, it’s me.”
“Mulder, where are you?”
“I need you to come and get me.”
“Why? What happened to your car?”
He doesn’t answer her question. “I’m at a place called Rusty’s. M Street and Charles. See you soon.”
“Mulder, are you drunk?” she says to the dial tone. She stares at her cell phone. Damn it! Why did she think he would be any less annoying once they became lovers? Mulder is Mulder; you fell for the whole package, Dana, she tells herself as she navigates her car toward Charles.
M Street and Charles is a busy corner and Rusty’s, she discovers, is a country/western bar. What on earth is Mulder doing way out here? She finds a parking space and approaches the bar. There’s nothing unusual about the building, so she opens the door and is surprised to find that the bar is empty. Only a few lights are on and music plays softly from the juke box, but there’s nobody on the dance floor and the high, round stools at the long, gleaming bar are empty.
“Mulder?” she calls out. Her hand strays to her weapon.
Someone emerges from the shadows at the back of the bar and walks slowly toward her. She relaxes her grip on her gun, realizing it’s Mulder. But when he steps into the light, she cannot believe her eyes.
Mulder is wearing chaps.
He’s dressed in his familiar black t-shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes. But riding over his jeans are a pair of brown suede chaps. They fit him just as she’d imagined they would, covering all of his lower body except for his crotch, which is more prominent than usual. She cannot take her eyes off him.
He walks past her, his eyes reflecting his pleasure at her reaction, and goes to lock the front door. Her eyes remain fixed on him and she gets a good look at the rear view. The chaps make Mulder’s ass look mighty fine, too. It’s getting rather warm in Rusty’s, she notes.
Mulder strolls past her again, giving her another chance to check him out from both sides. Good thing they are in a bar; she is probably going to need a drink very soon.
Mulder stops at the bar and leans against it. “Howdy, Scully,” he says.
“What—how—where did you find those?”
“This is Washington DC, Scully. Our nation’s capital has many resources.”
“What about this bar?”
“Old friend from college is a co-owner. I owe him big time.”
“You did all this for me?”
“Of course.” His eyes almost gleam in the dim light and she can’t stop staring at him. He’s dark and exciting and she has to touch him.
She walks toward him and runs her fingers over the soft suede covering his right thigh. She traces the edge up and around his crotch. Her fingertips brush across his zipper and she feels him harden. She repeats the tracing motion on the other leg, moving her fingers back around to his erection, now large and straining against his jeans. She can barely breathe, he is so beautiful. She runs her fingertips across it it again, then cups her hand around it.
Mulder shudders. “Scully,” he says, his voice thick. She squeezes, just a little, and he moans and grabs her wrist. His eyes bore into hers and his hand is hot on her skin. He leans down and crushes his mouth to hers, and she parts her lips so she can taste him. He pulls her hand away from his erection so that he can press himself fully against her. His weight pushes her into the bar and she feels it digging into her back, but she doesn’t care. His lips leave hers and begin a journey to her jaw line and down the side of her neck. His tongue flicks along her collarbone and trails down to the neckline of her blouse, making her squirm. Her breasts ache to be touched.
Mulder suddenly stops the kisses and lifts her up onto the bar. She unbuttons her blouse and his mouth resumes its journey, across the swell of her breasts and down to the front of her bra, where he licks at her tight nipple, poking through the lacy material.
She will not survive another slow seduction, exquisite as it may be. She is so hot, so wet. She lifts his head from her breast and tugs at his t-shirt. He gets the message and pulls it off. He reaches for the buckle on the chaps and she stops him.
“Can you leave them on?”
He looks at her with wonder, amazed at how aroused she is, then pulls down his zipper and tries to free his erection. But it’s awkward; he’s too large and too hard, so the chaps must come off. While Mulder sheds his clothes, she does the same, kicking her pants and panties to the floor. She spreads her legs so Mulder can stand between them, and they realize that the bar is too high and he can’t reach her. His eyes grow wild and she looks around for something to help.
“Bar stool?” she offers. The seat is round and wide. Mulder pulls a stool over, sits down, and lifts her off the bar and onto his lap. She straddles him, bracing her feet on the rung at the base of the stool. She rises over his hard cock and feels the tip prod against her wet entrance. He slides inside and she and she gasps as his sweet thickness fills her. Mulder leans forward and braces his arms against the bar, encircling her between them. She grips his arms for balance and starts to ride him. He cannot sit still and he thrusts up to meet her. She takes him as deep as she can into her wet heat. They move together, faster and faster, and when he comes, his heat floods through her in huge waves that send her swirling over the edge.
They sit on the stool for several minutes, still joined, trying to get their breath back. Mulder kisses the top of her head and strokes her arm.
“I wish I’d know about this chap fetish of yours earlier, Scully.”
She laughs and looks at him.
“Why? What would you have done about it?”
“Found me a pair of those things a helluva lot sooner, that’s for damn sure.”
She laughs again. “Well, now that you have them, Mulder, we can continue to enjoy them. There’s still one part of my fantasy left, you know.”
“Let me guess. Chaps only.”
“And you have to leave them on.”
“I’ll consider it if we move the location to a bedroom. This vinyl is murder on my ass.”
Date: 20 Feb 2005 21:08:29 -0000
Subject: Bareback (NC-17) by OKayVal
Archive: Honored; just tell me where
Category: RST, PWP
Spoilers: Takes place during Season 7
Cover Art: Donnilee
Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill.
Summary: Sequel to “Wild Wild Mulder.”
Mulder makes amends, as only he can.
Thanks to everyone who’s encouraged me to write another story with this, um, motif. Also, huge thanks to Donnilee for the title suggestion and for being my webhostess with the mostest, and to Tali for pulling this one out of the fire.
“If you’ll forgive me my ferocity I won’t forget your sweetness…”
—Blondie, “Forgive and Forget”—
The test tube shatters as it hits the floor, and so does the rest of her patience. She’s already faced her share of obstacles today, and this latest incident will now add an annoyed Mulder to her list. Her analysis wasn’t finished, and he’s been chomping at the bit all day for the results. The red liquid pools on the floor and she stares at it. At least the young lab assistant who dropped the test tube has the decency to be upset about it.
“I’m sorry, Agent Scully,” he says, face flushed, eyes downcast. He begins cleaning up the mess and she glares at him until her cell phone rings, demanding her attention. She knows it’s Mulder before she even touches the phone. Damn that man. His timing is uncanny. She thinks for a moment about not answering the call, but that will only make him more agitated. Ever since her little escapade with CGB Spender, Mulder goes haywire when he can’t reach her. Best to get this over with now. She pulls the phone from her lab coat pocket and answers it.
“Hey, it’s me,” Mulder says, then pauses. He’s heard the snap that she can’t keep out of her voice. She waits for him to continue.
“Are you finished with that blood sample yet? He was poisoned, wasn’t he?” Here we go. She clenches her fingers around the phone.
“No, Mulder, I’m not finished. We’ve had a little problem and I need to start over.” She is tempted to hang up now, feigning a bad connection, rather than listen to the rant she knows is coming.
“You have to find the poison, Scully. That’s the key. I can’t tie the murders to Morgan without it. He’s the only one who has access to that poison and I know that’s what killed those people. But I need you to prove it for me.”
She watches the young technician carefully wipe up the mix of shattered glass and blood. Their whole case, Mulder’s entire theory, rests among those small pieces of glass. A heavy weight for such tiny things, she thinks.
“I’ll do what I can, Mulder,” she says, her tone weary.
“Call me as soon as you can.” Mulder ends the call and she takes a deep breath. She knows when he’s profiling, he often shuts out the rest of the world and forges ahead in a narrow tunnel, focused only on the light at the end of it. She understands, but it still rankles somewhat when he shuts her out, too.
The lab assistant has finished his clean-up and approaches her nervously. She knows that chewing him out will only waste more time, and she still needs his help, so she tells him take a break while she returns to the autopsy bay and tries to salvage what she can of this case.
Mulder calls again as she is leaving the lab. She asks him curtly how he expects her to finish if he keeps interrupting her, then hangs up before he can respond. That seems to do the trick, because he does not call back.
The sterile solitude of the autopsy bay allows her to regain her focus; she collects tissue samples and tries to see if there is any other trace evidence on the victim’s body that she may have missed the first time. The afternoon stretches out ahead of her, like an endless road; running the tests takes time, and the lab assistant is so terrified of dropping anything else that he’s now moving at a snail’s pace.
Hours later, she finds it, in lines and patterns that match up perfectly on a chromatogram—traces of the rare poison, just as Mulder predicted. He must have the phone attached to his ear, because he answers her call instantly. He’s got enough evidence to obtain the arrest warrant, so he thanks her quickly and hangs up. She sets her phone aside and sinks onto a nearby stool. She should feel satisfied, but instead she merely feels drained. Her feet hurt and the dull ache in her stomach reminds her that she hasn’t eaten anything in hours. And she still has to organize her lab results. It’s going to be a long evening.
She sneaks small bites of salad as her fingers fly across the keyboard, creating the report she hopes will be her final task of this thankless day. It’s times like these that she is thankful for their basement office; she’s far away from the noise and prying eyes of other agents in the bullpen. She clicks the mouse and takes another forkful of salad as the computer hums and saves her work. She prints the report and is about to toss the remains of her dinner into the trash when her phone rings.
“We got him, Scully. Thanks to you.”
“I’m glad, Mulder.”
He’s silent for a moment and she rubs her forehead while waiting for him to speak again. She has a hunch that she’s not going to like whatever he says next.
“I’m on my way home. Meet me there. I want to show you something.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” The last thing she wants to do right now is go chasing after anything with Mulder. She just wants to go home and spend some time alone in a nice, hot bath.
“Not really.” The confidence in his voice annoys her.
“What is it? I’d really like to go home, Mulder.”
“You…you don’t have to stay. Just come over. Please, Scully.” This is the first time he has said “please” to her all day, and her resolve shatters like the broken test tube.
She should leave now. It’s not too late. He doesn’t know she’s here, standing outside his apartment door, with her hand raised to knock and announce her presence. She could sneak back to her car and call him to say she’s changed her mind and whatever he has to show her can just damn well wait until tomorrow.
Why can’t she say no to him? He drives her crazy. He never listens to her. But she’s here, isn’t she? She might as well see this through. If it’s something ridiculous, then she will read him the riot act and go home. She raps her knuckles against the scuffed wood.
“Scully?,” he calls from behind the door.
“It’s me,” she says.
“Use your key.” What on earth?
“Mulder, are you ok?” She fumbles in her purse for the key, wondering now if maybe he’d been shot or somehow hurt during Morgan’s arrest. She unlocks the door and steps into his apartment.
“In here, Scully,” he calls from the bedroom. Now she’s truly worried. Something’s happened to him. With a growing sense of urgency, she rounds the corner and peers into the bedroom. And almost falls to the floor in shock. Mulder is there, but he’s far from injured. He’s leaning against the closet door, and he’s naked—well, except for the chaps.
Chaps. Good lord.
“I know I was a real jackass today, Scully, and I’m sorry. I just couldn’t let that sonofabitch get away. I hope I can make it up to you.”
She barely hears what he’s saying because her visual senses are overloading with the sight of him before her. He’s glorious. The way the leather belt frames his hips, his lean legs encased in soft brown suede. His cock, dark and thick, framed by the fabric and growing harder under her scrutiny. He moves away from the closet door and reaches for her, but she shakes her head.
“Wait.” She approaches and walks slowly around him, so she can see the smooth curve of his bare ass. This isn’t the first time Mulder has surprised her with a pair of chaps, since she’d let it slip about her cowboy fantasy. They had not been lovers for long, and she was amazed that he had gone to so much trouble to fulfill that long-held fantasy.
“You remembered,” she whispers, walking around to face him again.
“Are you kidding? How could I forget? I’d never seen you so turned on. So hot.” His voice drops and he fixes those eyes on her, dark lasers that don’t let her go. His chest rises as his breathing quickens with his own arousal, and she watches him, bewitched. Every move he makes is stunning.
Hot is an understatement. The sweet ache builds between her legs and permeates every inch of her. She is done looking; now she has to touch him.
She starts with that ass. His muscles clench as her fingers skim his skin, taut strength that thrills her. She presses the full palm of her hand against him. How many times has she watched him striding ahead of her, her glance never failing to rest on how great his backside looks. Mulder begins to pant, quivering slightly whenever she moves her hand on his body.
She keeps moving it, around his hips and the soft leather belt of the chaps, returning to his groin. He is fully erect now, his cock long and straight, and she reaches for him. He is heavy and smooth in her hand; alive for her. She still marvels at how much he wants her, has always wanted her.
She slides her fingers along his pulsing length, slowly, and he moans her name. She looks at him and repeats the gesture, enjoying the way his face reveals the pleasure she gives him.
She remembers an article she read once, about how some women could achieve orgasm by visual stimulation alone. She’d dismissed these findings, but once again, Mulder is making her question her facts, because this particular visual stimulation is definitely doing it for her. She is so aroused, the ache between her thighs is almost painful now.
As she strokes him, Mulder watches her through eyes now half-closed. “God, Scully,” he grunts through gritted teeth. “Gotta slow down.”
She would love to watch him lose control now; he is so beautiful when he comes. But she knows he is doing this for her, so she releases him. His eyes fly open, green mirrors which reflect her own arousal back at her.
Mulder reaches out and tugs at the hem of her sweater. She has been so bedazzled by the sight of him without clothes that she has forgotten to remove her own. Mulder starts to undress her in that slow, sizzling way she loves; he touches every part of her as he peels each layer away. She is soon free of her clothes, and his touch has left trails of fire on her skin.
Mulder leads her toward the bed and as he lies back, she takes a moment to stand and study his body, framed by the chaps. It’s an extremely attractive picture. He watches her with a bemused smile.
“See something you like, Scully?”
“Definitely,” she says. “And those chaps are staying on, remember.”
“Of course I do. Now get over here.”
She laughs and straddles his thighs. The suede is soft against her skin. She bends forward and kisses him, finally; their mouths meet urgently, and Mulder’s hands caress her breasts, her stomach, and then her fiery core. He slips one finger against her swollen lips and she gasps at the sensation. He pushes the finger deeper, sending shockwaves of heat through her. She wants more than his finger inside her, but she cannot stop herself from rocking against his hand. He is so good at this. When he sees the look on her face, he adds a second finger and brushes his thumb against her clitoris; it’s just what she needs to send her soaring over the edge.
When she’s stopped trembling, Mulder gently slides his fingers out and brings them to his lips. She sees the raw need in his eyes and she is ready to give him what he wants, so she lifts her hips and sinks down onto him. Her walls are still slick from her orgasm and he slides in easily. She begins to ride him, and he matches her movements with hard, sure strokes of his own. She senses him, hot and thick, in every cell, every pore. Her hands press against his chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat echoing the rhythm of his cock inside her. Instinct takes over; her hips begin to rock at the same pace and she comes again, in wild waves of pleasure that seem to go on and on. Mulder increases his tempo, pushing his hips urgently against her again and again, until he lets go inside her with a furious surge and her name on his lips.
Warm. She is warm. She cracks open an eye and peeks at the alarm clock. Is that really the time? She normally doesn’t sleep this late. But she’s so comfortable, so warm. It must be Mulder; she can feel his skin against her back, but she also feels something else—soft, kind of fuzzy—she is puzzled for a moment but then she remembers. Mulder fell asleep wearing the chaps.
She smiles and slips out of his arms gently, not wanting to wake him. He sleeps so much better these days, but she knows there are still nights when he does not sleep at all, so it is best to let him slumber when he can.
She gets out of bed and looks around for something to wear. Settling for one of his t-shirts, she decides to investigate Mulder’s kitchen to see if he has anything there that might possibly resemble breakfast. If she can find something, she may even serve it to him in bed. One surprise deserves another, after all. She stops at the bedroom doorway and glances back; the sight of him sprawled across the bed still clad in chaps brings another smile to her face. It is easy to remember why she has trouble saying no to him, even when he’s being a royal pain in the ass. He can never refuse her anything, either.
“Apology accepted, Mulder,” she whispers to his sleeping form as she heads for the kitchen to begin her search for breakfast.
Date: 12 Jul 2005 00:18:11 -0000
Subject: Sleep Becomes Him by OKayVal
Title: Sleep Becomes Him
Rating: Adults only, please!
Archive: Honored; just tell me where
Category: V, RST
Cover Art: Donnilee
Disclaimer: Not mine, you know the drill.
Summary: Follow-up to “Bareback.” The morning after.
Written for Fandomonium’s “Voyeurism” challenge; elements at the end. Great big thanks to Tali, as always.
“Naked, you are simple as one of your hands…”
—Pablo Neruda, “Morning (Love Sonnet XXVII)”—
The coffee is brewing, the bread is toasting, and she has even discovered some strawberry jam hiding in a corner of Mulder’s refrigerator. Pleased with her success at finding something edible in Mulder’s X-File of a kitchen, she goes to check on him; it’s not like him to sleep when the scent of food is in the air.
She stops in the bedroom doorway and looks in; what she sees makes her smile. Mulder has rolled onto his side and the blanket is now in a heap on the floor. He’s wonderfully naked except for the chaps, which he was still wearing when he drifted off to sleep last night after making love to her. She awoke this morning with Mulder curled around her and the feel of soft suede brushing against her skin.
She considers waking him up, but decides to allow herself the luxury of watching him sleep. Mulder is almost always in motion, and it’s rare to catch him like this, so still and calm. His head, with hair sofly tousled, rests between his pillow and hers. His lips are slightly parted and his full bottom lip almost begs to be nipped and nibbled at.
Mulder stirs and she lets her eyes travel along his naked form, watching his chest rise and fall gently with each breath. His muscles are taut and toned. Her eyes follow the fine line of hair that travels down his lean torso until it is interrupted by the chaps which circle his hips. The brown belt from the chaps provides a dividing line between his strong back and the smooth curve of his ass. She is quite fond of Mulder’s rear, having spent years admiring it while she trailed around behind him in airports and at crime scenes. She will never forget the first time she was able to caress his ass, that night in California, when all the barriers fell away and they gave in to years of pent-up longing. It was better than she’d ever hoped.
Mulder makes a sighing sound and stirs again. The chaps slip forward and afford her a peek between his legs. His cock nestles thickly against his firm thigh, and she remembers the feel of him moving hard and fast inside her.
She lets her eyes linger there, getting aroused all over again with thoughts of how he pleasures her and lets her pleasure him. She has never been with a man who is so attentive to her needs. Only Mulder would actually find a pair of chaps to wear for her, merely because she said they turned her on. Only Mulder would make up for being an impossible ass to her during the day by wearing them for her at night.
She forces her gaze away from his cock and toward his impossibly long legs, tightly muscled all the way down to his equally long feet. Everything about Mulder is long, she thinks, as the warmth between her legs builds to a gentle ache.
The toaster calls her from the kitchen with a ping, interrupting her visual tour of Mulder’s beautiful body. Reluctantly she turns to leave the bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Mulder’s voice stops her. She turns back and finds him awake and watching her with golden eyes, an amused smile on those lips of his.
“Breakfast is ready,” she says, but she takes a step toward the bed.
“Breakfast can wait, Scully,” he replies, patting the suede on his thigh and shifting his legs to display his cock, now fully erect. It sure can, she thinks, climbing back into bed with him.
* Scully or Other POV
* Can have Mulder doing anything
* Pure description (i.e. little or no dialogue)
* New fic
Feedback welcomed. It’s all good!
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