Work Text:
Scully’s apartment was quiet except for the soft rustle of papers and the muted drone of the heater. The lamplight cast a warm, amber glow over the living room, an island of order amid the gentle chaos of late-night research. Mulder sat on the couch, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he scanned a stack of handwritten notes. Across from him, on the opposite side of the coffee table, Scully sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by open files, her glasses perched low on her nose as she cross-referenced data on her laptop.
They had been at it for hours, building a case from a patchwork of reports that had caught Mulder’s attention. Four deaths in rural Pennsylvania, each one preceded by a strange radio signal that local authorities had dismissed as interference from nearby military testing grounds. But Mulder wasn’t buying it. The victims’ internal organs showed signs of microwave-induced trauma without any external burns—a phenomenon that, in his mind, pointed to something far more deliberate.
Scully had humored him, as she always did, but even she had to admit there were anomalies. The times of death lined up precisely with the recorded surges in the signal. Coincidence seemed less and less likely.
Still, the hour was slipping well past midnight.
Scully exhaled a quiet sigh, sliding her glasses off and setting them gently on the coffee table beside a half-empty mug of tea. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, fatigue tugging at the corners of her eyes. “Mulder,” she murmured, her voice soft but decisive, “that’s enough for tonight.”
He nodded absently, not looking up, pen tapping against a page. “Just a few more cross-checks. I’m sure there’s something here, Scully.”
She pushed herself up from the floor, her knees protesting after hours in the same position. The movement drew his attention only faintly, his focus still fixed on the notes spread before him.
Without a word, she stepped around the coffee table until she eased herself into the narrow space between him and the table, her knees brushing his. That finally drew his eyes upward.
Her expression softened as she met his gaze. “Come to bed,” she said gently. “The rest can wait until we’re in the office tomorrow.”
Mulder’s lips twitched in a slight, distracted smile. “I just want to check one more thing.”
Scully tilted her head, amused but unconvinced. Her hands came up to frame his face, and she leaned down to kiss him, slowly and intentionally, her lips moving over his in a way that was unmistakably sensual, an invitation he understood perfectly.
When she pulled back, her voice was low, her tone leaving little room for debate. “Don’t take too long.”
His eyes were still half-closed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I won’t,” he promised. “Just one more thing.”
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. A silent exchange passed between them—affection, desire, and the new awareness of what they’d finally allowed themselves to become. Only two months had passed since they’d crossed that threshold, and they were still learning to navigate the line between the partnership they’d always shared and the intimacy they were now exploring.
“Alright,” she said softly. “Please make sure everything’s off before you come in.”
“I will.”
She gave a small nod and turned, padding toward the bedroom. The sound of her footsteps faded down the hall, leaving Mulder once again in the quiet glow of the lamplight.
He watched her until she disappeared from view, then turned back to the files. “Just one more thing,” he murmured to himself, leaning forward to study them again.
—
Scully lay back against the pillows, the soft spill of light from the living room slipping through the cracked door to cast a thin ribbon of gold across the dark green satin of her nightgown. She didn’t wear this often—the short gown with its delicate satin straps and the trace of lace that shaped her breasts. Not in the colder months. But tonight, she had chosen it deliberately.
It was her quiet signal to him, one he never failed to understand.
The blanket was pulled up to her stomach, a shield against the subtle chill that permeated the room despite the heater's hum. She knew it was a fleeting sanctuary, for in moments, he would be there, and their bare skin would intertwine, generating a warmth far surpassing that of any blanket or flame.
Her fingers began to wander, tracing the line of her collarbone, the curve of her shoulders, and the rise of her chest—gentle, absent touches that echoed the quiet pulse of anticipation beneath her skin.
Despite her weariness and the late hour, she yearned for these intimate interludes with him. Their lovemaking was an exquisite dance, still new, yet instinctive, as if their bodies had been choreographed for this very purpose. Each kiss, each touch, each movement held a profound familiarity, a depth that transcended mere physical pleasure. It was an intimacy that pierced to her core, revealing facets of herself she had never shown another. In his arms, she felt seen in a way that left her vulnerable and enraptured. And as she explored the depths of him, she discovered a man of infinite complexity and tenderness. These moments were precious to her; they were more than just physical release; they were a communion of souls, a testament to the unbreakable connection and love that bound them.
Her gaze lifted toward the door, its narrow opening giving her a glimpse of the living room’s glow. The lights were still on. He was still out there, lost in his thoughts, lost in the work that so often consumed him.
She sighed softly. She could wait.
This balance between them, between the work and whatever this new life together was becoming, was still forming. She knew it wasn’t easy for him. So much of Mulder’s world had been defined by absence: his sister’s disappearance, the cold silence and neglect of his parents, the relationships that chipped at his heart, and the long years of isolation and obsession that filled the void. He had learned to live within the walls of his own purpose.
She wanted him to see that the world he’d built didn’t have to stand alone anymore. That she was there, had always been there, and that love didn’t diminish purpose; it only gave it something human to come home to.
She could be patient, she told herself again. But patience, she knew, would only carry them so far. At some point, she would have to pull him gently toward her, remind him that some things couldn’t wait for morning.
Her fingers stilled against her skin, and the warm current that had thrummed through her body slowly eased. Her thoughts quieted, and her eyelids grew heavy. The light beyond the doorway flickered softly as her blinks lengthened and slowed, until sleep finally claimed her.
—
After ensuring everything was locked and all the lights were off, Mulder stepped into the bedroom, careful to move quietly. Moonlight streamed through a small break in the curtains, painting Scully’s form in pale silver. She lay curled on her side beneath the blankets, her dark green nightgown catching the faint glow, the delicate satin straps visible against her shoulder—and guilt tugged at him immediately.
One more thing, he had told her—and himself—but that single thing had stretched into another, and then another, until an entire hour had slipped by unnoticed. He knew he was still learning this delicate equilibrium between work and this new intimacy they were building together. But he needed to be better… more present, more attentive.
Thankfully, tomorrow was Friday, and he had already decided he would take her out to dinner after work, somewhere nice, before bringing her back to this room, to this bed, to give her the care, affection, and attention she truly deserved.
He moved quietly to the bathroom and opened a drawer to retrieve his toothbrush, a small, domestic gesture that reminded him how much this life with her was already reshaping his routines. Twice a week, maybe three, he stayed over; the placement of his toothbrush, the spare suit hanging in her closet were small markers of the adjustments unfolding between them.
After brushing his teeth, he stripped to his boxers and pulled on a gray T-shirt before returning to the bedroom. The air smelled faintly of her shampoo, warm and clean. He moved to the other side of the bed, gently pulling back the covers before slipping in beside her, lying on his side so that he was facing her.
As he inched closer, her body shifted instinctively toward his, seeking warmth, comfort, and the simple assurance of his presence. Without waking, she tucked her head beneath his chin, molding herself against him, and his arm immediately wrapped around her form.
This closeness was another adjustment he was still learning, but he loved it. In his own apartment, he often lay awake for hours, mind tracing cases, leads, and connections, the pulse of work never quieting. But here, with her in his arms, her scent and warmth surrounding him, and the gentle rhythm of her breathing, sleep came faster than he had ever known.
He held her a little tighter, letting the quiet of the night settle around them, and allowed himself to surrender to the all-encompassing calm he had found in her presence.
XxX
It was still pitch dark outside when Scully’s eyes fluttered open, the remnants of sleep clinging to her. She hadn’t realized she had dozed off. Stretching beneath the blankets, she sank into the warmth, not just of the soft covers, but of the steady heat of the man behind her, his arm draped protectively around her. A slight smirk tugged at her lips; his promised “one more thing” had clearly become several more.
As she stretched, she felt his arm tighten around her, pulling her closer until her back pressed firmly against his chest. His lips brushed her shoulder in a gentle kiss, a habit he displayed both awake and asleep. It made her smile, for this was a man who showed his love even without thinking.
Curious if he was awake, she shifted within his embrace, turning to face him and tilting her head to look up at him. His eyelids were heavy, yet open, and a small, sleepy smile met her gaze. She moved closer, pressing herself fully against him. His hand traced down her back, fingertips brushing the hem of her nightgown before slipping beneath the fabric, exploring the soft contours of her body.
“No panties?” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You know what I like.”
Scully let out a soft, breathy laugh. She brought her hand to the side of his face, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that was soft and sensual. Her teeth grazed his bottom lip playfully before she deepened the kiss. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, his hand giving the curve of her backside a gentle squeeze. Then, he rolled her onto her back, shifting over her while remaining beneath the covers.
She smiled against his lips as her thighs parted, welcoming the weight of him as he settled into the cradle of her hips. Her arms wound loosely around his neck, drawing him closer. His mouth drifted from hers, trailing soft kisses along the line of her jaw before he nuzzled the tender spot below her ear.
“Mmm,” he murmured against her skin, inhaling deeply. “God I love the way you smell.”
Each word was a warm breath against her neck, followed by the slow press of his lips, one kiss, then another, until a shiver of pleasure rippled through her spine and lifted the fine hairs at her nape.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she tilted her head back for him. She loved the weight of him, the warmth of his body aligned with hers, the way his mouth could make her forget to breathe. She braced her feet against the mattress and shifted beneath him until he was pressed firmly against her, his arousal hot and insistent against her bare center. When she lifted her hips to meet him, his groan resonated deep in his chest, a sound that vibrated against her neck before he reflexively pressed harder into her.
Her breath caught; she rose to meet him again, and he answered in kind, their rhythm slowly building.
Just as his lips found hers once more, the sharp, intrusive beep of the alarm cleaved through the darkness. They paused, eyes darting toward the glowing clock. Mulder reached out, silencing it with a quick tap, the echo of their interrupted breath still suspended between them.
But Scully wasn’t ready to let the moment go. Not yet.
Her head lifted from the pillow, her lips finding the hollow of his throat where his pulse thrummed steadily beneath his skin. She kissed him there, tasting the faint salt of his skin as she pressed her hips into him again. Her hands glided down his back, her nails tracing teasing lines along his skin until her fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers.
“Hey,” he murmured against her temple, “we need to get up.”
She ignored him. Her teeth caught lightly at the edge of his jaw, the gesture equal parts affection and persuasion. “We have time,” she whispered. She grasped the waistband of his boxers and began to ease them down.
Mulder’s breath hitched, his resolve wavering for a heartbeat, but then he drew back onto his knees, the covers falling away as his hands closed around her wrists.
“Scully,” he said softly.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes were still dark with the haze of sleep and lingering desire, but beneath it was focus, the spark she recognized all too well.
“I still need a shower,” he went on, his thumbs brushing lightly against the backs of her hands, an unspoken apology in the gesture. “And we’ve got to get to the office. I found something in those reports last night, something I think connects the signal pattern to the second set of victims. I want to make a few calls before the trail goes cold.”
She knew that look in his eyes, the pull of the work, the insatiable drive that had defined so much of who he was. She told herself not to take it as rejection, yet no matter how she tried, it still felt like rejection.
A small sigh slipped past her lips, the disappointment growing heavier, “Of course you did,” she murmured flatly.
His mouth curved into a small, sheepish smile. “You’ll want to see it too. I promise.”
Her eyes never left his, and she made no attempt to move, “The only thing I want to see right now is you,” she whispered.
Mulder exhaled, the sound half sigh, half laugh, a quiet attempt to defuse what he could already feel building. “Scully…” he started, releasing her wrists and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “You know it’s not about that. We’re expected in by eight. I—”
“No one’s going to care if we’re a half hour late,” she interrupted, her tone calm but edged with slight impatience. “Skinner isn’t clocking us in. Nobody’s coming down to the office to make sure we’re there right at eight.”
Mulder sat back on his heels, searching her face. “That’s not the point,” he said evenly. “What’s happening here, between us… it’s exactly why we have to be careful. We can’t let this get in the way of what we do. Not when people are counting on us.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, the hurt flickering behind her composure. “So our personal life is the thing that needs to take a back seat.”
He hesitated, hearing the weight in her voice. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what it sounds like,” she replied softly. Her voice wasn’t angry yet—just tired, disappointed. “You talk about boundaries, but they seem to only go one way. You’re worried about our relationship bleeding into our work, but what about the other way around? The job doesn’t end when we walk out of the office… it follows you home, it follows us here.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed on before he could.
“I went to bed alone last night,” she continued as she sat up, her voice quieter now, almost pained. “You were still out there,” she said, gesturing out the door to her living room, “looking for leads when you’d promised you’d be in soon. This is supposed to be our time, off the clock and away from everything else. But even here, even now…” Her words faltered just slightly, emotion tightening her throat. “Even now, you’re choosing the work.”
Mulder’s expression softened, “I’m not choosing the work… I’m just so close to something—”
“That’s the problem,” she cut in, her tone sharper now, her restraint thinning. “You get close, and the rest of the world disappears. You disappear. I don’t want to have to compete with the X-Files, Mulder. Not out there, and especially not here.”
Her words landed heavily between them. Mulder’s mouth opened as if to protest, but nothing came out. He looked down instead, the silence between them stretching long and taut.
Guilt crept in slowly, threading through his chest. He thought of her last night, how she’d looked when he finally came in, long after he’d promised he’d be there. She’d been asleep, wearing this same nightgown, one he knew she’d chosen for him. It had been her quiet invitation, and he’d missed it. The truth of it stung. He needed to learn to put her first. Because when it came down to it, she meant more to him than the X-Files ever could.
He could live without the work; he couldn’t live without her.
Her eyes searched his face, and when he didn’t speak, she exhaled softly and slipped out of bed. She had barely taken a step when he swung his legs over the side of the bed, settling onto the edge. Reaching out, he closed his hand gently around her wrist. She turned to meet his gaze.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. His fingers tightened around her wrist, not to hold her back, but to keep her close—close enough that she would hear the sincerity in his voice. “You’re right about all of it.”
She didn’t speak. She only stood there with her eyes locked on his. Her silence pressed him to continue.
“I do disappear,” he admitted. “I get caught up in the chase, in the details. I tell myself it’s for the greater good, that if I just keep going, I’ll find the truth. But then it’s two in the morning, and I’ve lost sight of everything else… including you.” He exhaled, the weight of his own confession sinking in. “You’re not wrong to call me out on it. You shouldn’t have to compete with our work. You shouldn’t even feel like you have to.”
Her gaze softened slightly, though she still didn’t speak. He could see she wanted to believe him, but belief had to be earned.
“I want to do better,” he said. “Not just say it, but actually do it. That means closing the files when I say I will. That means showing up when I tell you I’ll be there. It means remembering that what’s between us isn’t some distraction from the work, it’s the reason I can even keep doing it.”
Her lips parted, the faintest tremor in her breath betraying how much his words struck her.
He reached for her other hand, guiding her gently back toward him so she was standing between his legs. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you come second,” he said softly. “Because the truth is, when I’m out there, when it’s late and I’m buried in reports or chasing down leads, it’s you I’m thinking about. You’re the one who keeps me grounded. You’re the reason I want to come home.”
Her eyes glistened faintly, her expression wavering between vulnerability and restraint. “You’ve said that before,” she whispered.
“I know,” he admitted quietly. “And I meant it before. But this time, I’m going to show you.”
For a long moment, neither moved. Then, with a soft exhale, Scully stepped closer until the small distance between them disappeared. His hands rose to her waist and she rested her palms against his shoulders.
“I don’t expect you to stop being who you are, Mulder,” she said quietly. “I just need you to remember that I’m here too.”
“I remember,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the satin of her gown at her hips. “And I want to show you that.”
The tension that had filled the room finally began to ease, replaced by something quieter, steadier—an unspoken truce sealed not by apology alone, but by the promise of presence.
She nodded subtly, her expression softening. “Then start now,” she whispered.
Mulder’s mouth curved into a slow, genuine smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He shifted farther back on the bed, bringing his legs up onto the mattress and crossing them, as she climbed up with him. She moved onto his lap, straddling him, while his hands slid up her gown, gathering the fabric at the small of her back and holding it there. Her hands rose to cradle his face, and her eyes closed as she pressed her forehead to his. His remained open, fixed on the woman who chose him every day… something he still couldn’t quite believe.
Finally, he tilted his head up and found her mouth with his. She met him immediately, deepening the kiss—rich, urgent, consuming. His arms circled her as her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging him closer.
With a low, nearly breathless sound, Mulder shifted, guiding them backward onto the bed. He lay fully against the mattress, and she settled on top of him without ever breaking the kiss. Their lips moved together in a rhythm that was at once tender and demanding.
Before the kiss could deepen further, his hands slid to her waist, guiding her upward as his mouth moved from hers. Her palms pressed into the mattress, responding to his silent direction, attuned to exactly where he wanted her—and she matched his eagerness without pause. Slowly, she crawled along his body until she straddled his face. Her tongue brushed over her lips, anticipation building deep inside her as her hands pressed firmly into the sheets. Her eyes slipped shut when his lips found the sensitive curve of one inner thigh, trailing feather-light, teasing kisses before moving to the other, each touch sending soft tremors through her.
Her skin was impossibly soft beneath his lips, her scent heady and intoxicating, filling his senses until his head began to swim. His hands slipped to the hem of her nightgown, lifting the fabric past her waist to reveal her sex to him completely. He paused, drinking her in, then he lifted his head and began pressing a series of slow, heated, open-mouthed kisses against her core. The sensation drew a sharp, shuddering breath from her.
Then his tongue glided between her folds, slow and attentive, savoring her taste as it traced along her velvety, slick flesh. He repeated the motion, even more slowly this time, and her thighs quivered as her hands clutched the sheets. Each sweep drew a soft moan from her lips, and when he released the gown, his hands gripped her hips firmly, drawing her flush against his mouth.
“Fuck!” she hissed through her teeth.
His tongue delved deeper, parting her folds to reach the tender flesh within. He explored her thoroughly, his mouth moving against her with a hunger that belied his earlier restraint. She could feel every ridge and valley of his tongue as it glided along her most intimate places, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins.
Her hips rocked instinctively, seeking more of that exquisite sensation. Mulder responded by gripping her waist tighter with both hands, holding her in place as he feasted on her. His tongue circled her clit, flicking against the sensitive bud before sucking it gently into his mouth.
A cry escaped her lips as her fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles white with tension while she fought to maintain control. But he was relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure, his mouth moving with a skill and intensity that left her breathless.
This was a gift she would remain eternally grateful for: his innate oral focus, a fixation that had always drawn her eyes to his mouth. He chewed sunflower seeds, the ends of pens, even his thumbnail when nothing else was at hand, a habit born of a restless need. That same attentiveness, that same precise control, translated exquisitely to her in the form of oral devotion. He read her like a finely written text, attuned to every sound, every subtle shift, every change in the cadence of her breath. She never needed to guide him with words or gestures; he simply knew, instinctively, how to respond to her body, how to draw from her the pleasure she longed for.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked down to find the soft drape of her gown veiling his face. She wanted to see him, to watch the careful attention in his ministrations. Keeping one hand braced on the mattress for balance, the other slid to the hem of her gown. With a slow tug, she lifted it, unveiling him, and took in the sight.
Every detail was incredibly arousing, from the movement of his lips to the slight parting of his mouth and the flick of his tongue. His brows drew together, not just in concentration, but in raw, unguarded pleasure. This was a man who relished giving as much as she relished receiving.
Then his eyes opened and lifted to meet hers, a fleeting glance of heat and intent, as his tongue traced firm strokes along her most sensitive place, the flat of it gliding over her. The sigh and the rush of pure ecstasy stole the air from her lungs, and she clenched the fabric of her gown in her now-trembling hand.
His eyes closed again, groaning into her flesh, and he drew her clit between his lips once more, suckling firmly.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, eyes slipping shut as she tilted her head back. Her hips began to move again, seeking more, and he met her motion with his own, guiding her as she rocked against his mouth. One hand slid from her waist, trailing up her body until he cupped her breast over the lace of her gown. He gave it a gentle squeeze, kneading and massaging, feeling her hardened nipple through the fabric. A soft sound escaped her when he pinched the sensitive peak, then released it, squeezing her warm flesh once more before returning his hand to her waist to help guide her movements—her hips and his mouth moving together in perfect rhythm.
This was where he loved to be, here, beneath her, utterly devoted, every nerve and muscle attuned to her pleasure. It was a place of intimacy he craved, not just for the physicality of it, but for the power of connection it brought. To feel her tremble against him, to hear the breathless music of her moans, to witness the way her body responded without resistance… This was his sanctuary, the rare space where he could surrender entirely, where desire and care intertwined. In these moments, he existed only for her, and in giving himself to her fully, he discovered a satisfaction deeper than any chase, any case, any truth he had ever pursued.
Needing to see him again, she bowed her head and opened her eyes, lifting her gown just a fraction higher. The edge of that peak was near, and she rocked against him with increasing desperation. She bit her lip briefly, watching him—his lips pressed to her, the crease between his brows returning, the intensity and devotion radiating from him. God, he wanted her to unravel against his mouth, to surrender completely, he wanted to taste the fullness of her release.
Her breath came in heavy pants as pleasure rushed through her. His mouth moved against her with tireless fervor, his tongue swirling and stroking in ways that drove her wild. She could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter within her, like a spring ready to snap.
And then it did.
Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, sweeping her away in its intensity. A cry tore from her throat, unfiltered and primal, echoing off the bedroom walls.
Mulder's hands gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place now as he continued to lap at her feverishly.
Her entire body shook and trembled as euphoria surged through her entire body, from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head. Needing to steady herself, she released her gown and brought her other hand back to the mattress, gripping the sheets as she clung desperately to something solid amidst the storm of sensation. Waves of heat washed over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, breasts rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. The walls of her core clenched and released rhythmically, gripping at nothing, seeking something to hold onto in the face of such overwhelming pleasure.
Mulder's mouth was merciless, his tongue delving deep to taste every drop of ecstasy that poured from her. The vibrations of his groans against her sensitive flesh only intensified the sensations coursing through her body.
Then her climax began to ebb, the swells of intensity gradually subsiding but leaving her quivering with residual fire. Her breaths came deep and steady, each inhalation and exhalation pulling her further back into herself, while Mulder followed her every movement, his lips and tongue lingering tenderly, coaxing out the last shivers of her release.
When her sensitivity peaked, a small, involuntary whimper spilled from her lips, and her hips twitched in response. He took it as his cue, lifting his mouth reluctantly from her moist flesh.
Slowly, her arms still shaking, she began to slide down his body. His hands stayed at her sides, steadying and guiding her until she straddled his hips.
Then she leaned down, cupping his face in her hands and claiming his mouth in a sultry, hungry kiss. She nipped and softly suckled his lower lip before teasing her tongue against his, curling and sweeping as she tasted herself on him. Their breathless moans mingled in unison, a shared expression of their insatiable desire.
For him, there was something uniquely intoxicating in this exchange—witnessing her drink from him, tasting herself on his lips… on his tongue. It was erotic, yes, but also tender and beautiful, a moment of complete surrender and mutual devotion.
Now he felt the throb of his own desire straining against the fabric of his boxers, the evidence of his anticipation dampening them. He had been almost painfully hard the entire time. Going down on Scully had always ignited him more than anything. But now his own need pressed urgently, insistent, silently demanding release.
And Scully, of course, knew exactly the effect she had. She broke the kiss slowly, teasingly, nipping his lower lip one last time before sitting up on him. Her hands drifted down her body to the bottom of her gown, beginning to pull it upward, but Mulder’s hands shot out, gently pressing against her wrists.
“Wait,” he murmured, drawing her gaze to his. “Keep it on.”
A small knowing smile curved her lips as she released the fabric. Sliding off him, she settled onto her knees on the mattress beside him. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, carefully easing them past his hips and over his pronounced erection. With a swift, impatient motion, Mulder kicked the garment the rest of the way off with his legs. Then he sat up briefly, pulled his shirt off, and tossed it aside before lying back down.
His hands moved to her hips, ready to pull her back to straddle him, but she intercepted them, a teasing smile lighting her face as she moved his hands away.
Mulder swallowed hard. That smile, that glint in her eye—it sent him reeling, and he knew he was utterly, deliciously at her mercy.
Still perched on her knees beside him, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, stroking him slowly from base to tip. His eyes instantly closed as the pressure of her hand brought a rush of relief, and he released a heavy, unsteady breath. A bead of fluid appeared at the head, and she leaned in, her tongue darting out to lap it up. His hips jerked involuntarily at the contact, a low groan rumbling in his chest.
Without waiting, she took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth as she sank down. Her head began to bob slowly, taking him deep on each descent before pulling back with firm suction on the upstroke.
“Jesus,” he gasped, forcing his eyes open to look down at her. The sight of her kneeling beside him, worshipping him with her mouth, was more than he could bear.
“Stop,” he ground out, his voice strained as his hands slid into her hair, gently tugging. “I need to be inside you.”
She released him with a final languid lick along his length, making his entire body shudder. Then, rising gracefully to her knees, she swung one leg over his waist and straddled him, facing away from him as she positioned herself above him.
Mulder’s eyes widened at the sight.
Reverse cowgirl.
A position they had never tried before. His tongue swept over his lips, his pulse thundering in his chest. His hands found her waist as she reached between them, wrapping her fingers around him and guiding him into place. She teased them both for a moment, dragging his tip through her wetness and eliciting a low, approving sound from him. His grip on her waist tightened as she finally aligned him with her entrance, and slowly, she began to sink down onto him.
She descended, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of him stretching her, filling her.
A low, soft groan escaped her, rising from somewhere deeper than her chest, and he answered with one of his own—just as raw, just as prolonged.
She felt every ridge and vein of his erection as it slid along her inner walls, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her body, while he felt the exquisite, molten heat of her core gripping him tightly.
Once she was fully seated on him, she paused for a moment, reveling in the sensation of being so utterly connected to him. “Yes,” she breathed, a whisper of a word, but the euphoria in her voice was unmistakable.
“So fucking good,” he rasped.
Her head tipped back, and her hands trailed down her sides to rest on her thighs. Then she began to move—lifting herself until only the tip remained inside before sinking back down. Again and again. The angle allowed him to penetrate her deeply, and she couldn’t stop the soft moans that escaped her with each descent.
Mulder swallowed hard, loosening his grip on her waist. His hands slid up her back, nudging her forward gently, a silent request. She responded instantly, leaning forward, wrapping her hands around his shins just above his ankles. The shift changed the angle, transforming the motion of her hips. She no longer moved merely up and down; now she rolled back and forth over him. Mulder clenched his eyes shut for a moment, fighting to maintain control. God, it was so fucking hot.
Scully’s head bowed forward… the new angle let him glide along her walls perfectly, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind her eyes. For him, her intimate muscles clenched around him, pulling him in, squeezing him mercilessly. His eyes shut tighter, his back arching briefly as he tried to hang on.
“Wait,” he whispered, his hands returning to her hips to still her.
She glanced over her shoulder, a small, patient smile playing on her lips. She could feel the powerful throb of him inside her, pulsing, and he held his breath. After several long moments, he exhaled heavily. “Okay,” he murmured, giving her permission to move again. Her head bowed forward once more as she rolled against him, her sighs punctuated by soft moans with each pass of her hips against his.
Once Mulder was sure he had regained control of his body, his eyes opened and fixed on her. He traced the curve of her form draped over him, taking in every line, every fluid movement. His fingers curled into the soft fabric of her nightgown, drawn by an almost desperate need to see her. All of her. He slid the gown up past her hips, holding it just above her waist.
Scully drew her bottom lip between her teeth as the cool air brushed her now-exposed skin. He was looking at her—all of her. They had shared many intimate moments in a variety of positions, yet there was still something vulnerable about this one, something about this view that made her feel a flicker of bashfulness, mingled with exhilaration. She wanted him to see all of her, to take in every inch, to love every part of her. So when he pushed her gown up, her hips did not falter; she continued to move with the same sensual grace, offering herself completely.
The sight that met him stole his breath. The smooth, pale skin of her rear gleamed under the soft light streaming through the break in the curtains from the streetlights outside. Her muscles flexed and shifted with every roll of her hips. He could see the glistening, swollen flesh of her wrapping around him, pulling him deeper, every tremor and squeeze sending sparks of arousal straight through him. The scent of her, the heat of her, the slickness sliding against him—it was staggering.
A low, loud groan tore from his throat, vibrating through both of them. His hands clenched the nightgown, bunching the fabric in tight fists as he watched her move, captivated by the way her body swayed over him, the delicious friction, the way she took him wholly. His pulse hammered in his chest, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He hoped, though, that he could bring her there first. He trusted that her body was still stimulated and warm from her first orgasm, still primed enough for him to guide her to a second.
He released one hand from her nightgown, while the other still held the fabric above her hips. His free hand slid around her, finding the apex of her pleasure, teasing, pressing, circling her clit in ways that drew a sharp, involuntary whimper from her lips.
Her body responded instantly. For better leverage, she released his shins and placed her hands on the mattress for balance, beginning to grind harder against him, chasing the combined friction of his fingers and the steady, deep penetration of his length. Their pace built as his hips began to rise to match hers, fingers coaxing and stroking her, driving her closer to the edge.
She rode harder and faster, her moans spilling out louder with each movement. His grunts matched her rhythm, and he felt her muscles quiver around him. Relief coursed through him—she was close, and he needed to bring her there first.
Tingling built along her scalp, shoulders, and back, spreading down through her core as the pleasure from his teasing fingers grew hotter, sharper, and more irresistible. “I’m right there,” she panted.
Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, biting hard into his lip, desperate to hold himself together for her.
He thrust up harder, his finger maintaining the same pressure as he teased the spot that made her quiver uncontrollably, and her body erupted. Her climax pulsed through her, waves of heat rolling from her core to her limbs, hair prickling at the base of her skull as her head tipped back.
“Oh my God!” she cried. Her sounds were untamed, filling the room as her muscles clenched around him, pulling him in with each convulsion.
She didn’t pause, didn’t let the sensation fade. A second wave hit faster, hotter. Her back arched as her hands gripped the sheets tightly, another cry escaping her lips as pure euphoria flooded her body, surging through her veins and dancing up and down her spine. Her toes curled tightly as she rode through it.
Every nerve in his body screamed as the tension coiled tighter and tighter. His chest heaved violently, hips stuttering, back arching as the molten wave of release surged through him. The friction of her walls and the responsive grip of her muscles drove him over the edge with a force that left him trembling.
A guttural, ragged groan tore from his throat as he thrust through it, spilling deep into her, his body shuddering violently with the intensity of it. Every pulse of ecstasy radiated through him, stretching from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes, leaving him utterly consumed by pleasure.
Her body tightened around him in perfect synchrony, and he could feel the delicious heat of her climax washing over her as it pulsed through him.
Gradually, the swells of pleasure began to fade, softening as their movements slowly came to a stop. Mulder’s hand slid away from her clit, resting gently on her hip, holding her.
Scully’s arms trembled beneath her, muscles straining as she fought to stay upright. She feared that if she shifted, she might collapse, so she just braced herself for now.
They stayed like that for a long, suspended moment—hearts and breath gradually slowing as they basked in the lingering fire they had just shared. The air carried the warm, intimate scent of them both, a fragrance they had come to know and love.
Mulder’s thumbs traced slow, lazy circles over her lower back, in no rush to break their connection. Then he felt Scully move, and his eyes opened as she carefully eased herself off him. His length slipped free, and they both let out soft, almost reluctant sighs at the loss, but she didn’t go far.
She simply turned around, settling herself atop him, resting her head against his chest. His arms came naturally around her, cradling her close. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. This was where she belonged: in his embrace, breathing him in, feeling him everywhere, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The hot trickle of his essence began to leak from her, a sensation she welcomed—the tangible proof of their desire, their affection, their love.
“I love you,” she whispered.
The words weren’t new; they had been spoken on several occasions before, yet they still tugged at his heart with the same force.
He tightened his arms around her as he placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair.
A soft smile touched her lips as she lifted her head, pressing a tender kiss to his chest before rising from the bed. Mulder lingered, watching her movement, savoring the easy grace in every step. She began toward the bathroom, but paused, glancing over her shoulder when he didn’t stir immediately.
“Come on, we need to shower,” she said.
He gave a small, lazy smile. “Give me five more minutes.”
She turned fully, folding her arms across her chest. “You don’t want to be late for work, do you?”
He chuckled softly, glancing at the clock and then back at her. “I think that ship has sailed.”
She shrugged, a hint of amusement in her expression. “Alright, suit yourself.” With that, she moved toward the bathroom, lifting the hem of her nightgown and drawing it up and over her head in one fluid motion, letting it fall away to reveal her beautiful, bare form before she slipped through the doorway.
Mulder sat up immediately, swinging his legs off the bed and moving quickly after her. The soft sound of the shower filled the air as he entered the bathroom, and her quiet laughter echoed from within.
In that moment, he acknowledged the novelty of this life—of sharing everything: not just moments, but a world, a future, a self, with someone else. He had spent so long moving through life alone, living for investigations, for truth, for the chase, trusting few, relying only on himself. But Scully had shown him another way… a life not solely his own, but shared, intertwined, sacred.
No case, no danger, no obsession could ever rival what he shared with her. She was the axis of his world, the steady beat of his heart, the presence he could never set aside.
And in that moment, with absolute certainty, he knew where everything fell into place:
She comes first.
XxX
END
