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herbertwest · 7 years

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X-Ball: The First Inning

Title: X-Ball

Chapter: The First Inning

Characters: Like...all of them.

Rating: Pretty much family friendly, just banter and baseball

Summary: Mulder’s done it now! It’s the Believers against the Monsters in a life-or-death struggle in nine innings!

“How many sunflower seeds do you think I can eat before the end of the game?” Mulder asked, brandishing an unopened bag. “I’m thinking all of these.” Scully sighed. “As a medical doctor, I would have to advise against that.” “What was that?” Mulder said through a mouthful of seeds. “Never mind.”

Skinner walked over from the other side of the dugout and put a hand on each agent’s shoulder. “It’s time to announce the starting line-up, get on the field. We can’t show any kind of weakness today or they’ll absolutely eat us alive.” “Sir, why are we doing this? It’s highly risky and gets us no closer to solving any cases,” Scully said. “Ask Agent Mulder. I told him the same thing, but he said it was an important ‘X-file’ and if we didn’t play we’d all die. He can’t seem to provide any details or evidence, and yet here we are,” said Skinner. A bar of music blasted across the field. “Time to go Agents. We’re fielding first.”

“This is Clyde Bruckman live from Camden Yards. I’ll be your announcer on this not-particularly-lovely afternoon - It’s too hot, hot dogs are too expensive, and someone is going to fall off the bleachers and die trying to catch a foul ball later. Today’s game is between the FBI Believers, and the Monster…hang on, I’m trying to read this…it looks like they wrote about fifteen different names here because they couldn’t decide on one. So today’s game is between the FBI Believers and the Monsters. The Believers are taking their positions now!” As each player was announced a picture of them was displayed on the big screen. “The pitcher, #20, Fox Mulder! He’s responsible for this whole mess. On first base, #42, Dana Scully! She’s the most decent person I know, and a good doctor. That isn’t so great for my life insurance sales however. On second base, #13, Alex Krycek! He’s notorious for his switch-hitting, so the pitcher had better watch out! On third base, #18, Jeffrey Spender! He has a reputation for arguing with the umpire. With that kind of attitude he won’t spend much time in the spotlight. The shortstop, #38, Sean Pendrell! He’s really been aiming high and shooting up through the ranks of the FBI! The catcher, #75, Walter Skinner! He’s the heart of this team, utterly infallible. In left field, #63, John Fitzgerald Byers! He’s got a shot at the big time, unlike his namesake. In center field, #10, Melvin Frohike! He paid me to say that he has the best kung fu. And in right field, #25, Richard Langley! He also paid me to say that he has the best kung fu.”

The team took their places. Mulder casually tossed a baseball up in the air, Skinner pulled down his mask. The Lone Gunmen argued about airspeed of a hit ball and where it would be best to stand to catch one.

The rival team was announced. “The Monsters are about to go to bat! This team hits hard and absolutely kill on the field.” Once again pictures were flashed up, though the players stayed in the dugout. “The pitcher, #40, refuses to give a name. It’s rumored that he knew Josh Exley back in the day. On first base, #55, Virgil Incanto! He tends to chew the fat on field. On second base, #12, Cecil L’ively! He’s a hothead who throws fire. On third base, #124, Wayne Weinsider! A real demon who’s been known to make opposing players cry like babies. The shortstop, #37, Donnie Pfaster! He takes great pleasure in stopping line drives dead. The catcher, #66, Robert Modell! He’s able to take command of even the worst situations. In left field, #85, Leonard Betts! He has a tendency to get ahead of himself while fielding, but he always comes back strong afterwards. In center field, #3, Eugene Tooms! He’s the star player, having escalated quickly through the ranks. It’s a stretch to think many balls will get by him tonight. And finally in right field, #26, something that absolutely should not exist, a real fluke of nature. But this Flukeman is no parasite, it can hold its ground on the field. Once again I’m Clyde Bruckman, and it’s time to play ball!”

“Mulder, what have you gotten us into?” asked Scully. Mulder spit some sunflower seeds and attempted to grin. Flukeman came up to the plate, its head squeezed grotesquely into a batting helmet. It made a gurgling noise and hit its bat against the plate a few times. “Piece of cake. That rubbery thing couldn’t hit a wiffle ball,” Mulder said, winding up. Flukeman slammed the ball towards Pendrell, who fumbled it – he was understandably distracted by the sight of the Flukeman lunging towards first base, its steps almost graceful in a jiggling parasitic kind of way. “No worries, it was just a fluke! We’ve got this!” Mulder yelled as Eugene Tooms took the plate. He stood perfectly still as Mulder threw two strikes. (The umpire sounded familiar, but Mulder couldn’t quite place his finger on who he was). Then, as Mulder internally started to celebrate a strikeout, Tooms swung. He brought his bat back impossibly far, and snapped it forward like a stretched rubber band. The ball went into far left field. Byers scrambled to pick it up, panicking as Flukeman rounded second and shambled to third. He got the ball to Krycek moments after Tooms took second. He smirked at Krycek, who gave Tooms a look that could turn milk sour. “Play’s at first everyone!” said Mulder, spinning the ball on his finger. Virgil Incanto came to bat. “Come on everyone, we do NOT want Incanto taking second or third base, this is our first date!” He threw the pitch – Incanto swung and missed. On the second pitch he hit a high pop fly to Pendrell, who managed to catch it. “One down!” Cecil L’ively walked to the plate smoking a cigarette and twirling the bat in his hands. He wore no helmet. The umpire said something to him and L’ively handed him a cigarette. Then he grinned at Mulder and got into his stance. He ignored the first pitch, instead choosing to take a drag on his cigarette. But the second…as Mulder threw, L’ively’s bat burst into flame. It hit the ball with the sound of a sparking log, and the ball (now also on fire) zoomed over the back wall and disappeared into the stands. L’ively grinned, lit another cigarette, and casually made his way around the bases. Flukeman and Tooms moved at a slightly faster trot. “Mulder are there any stakes in this game?” Scully yelled from first base. “One or two,” Mulder replied. “Though we’d need more than that if vampires showed up” “Not that kind of stake Mulder.”

Wayne Weinsider was a typical dad at the plate. He had perfect stance, just a hint of smugness. “You at third base! Don’t just stand there! You need to bend your knees, get ready to move!” Weinsider said to Jeffrey Spender, with maybe MORE than the aforementioned hint of smugness. When Jeffrey was able to scoop up Weinsider’s line drive, whipping it over to Scully (who fumbled it, but managed to hold on for the out) Weinsider looked pleased as punch. “He did that on purpose,” Jeffrey mumbled. “That’s two outs people! One more!” Mulder said, smacking his hand into his glove.

Donnie Pfaster held the bat limply, his eyes fixed on Scully. He swung slowly, missing the first two pitches entirely. He bunted on the third, but Skinner charged the ball and got it to first. “Three outs!”

Bottom of the First: Monsters 3, Believers, 0

The Believers returned to the dugout in preparation to bat. The players were shaken, unused to facing the contents of the X-files head on. Mulder watched the other team fixedly while Scully tied her shoe. “Scully! There’s an alien in the other dugout! Look!” Scully finished tying the last knot and glanced up. “I don’t see anything.” “You missed it.” Mulder said, sulking slightly. There was a moment of silence. “Do you know how batting orders work?” Mulder asked. “I can’t say I ever thought about it,” said Scully. “Well it’s really quite interesting – the first two hitters are supposed to be ones who have a high on-base percentage. The third hitter is almost a filler, ideally someone who can get on a base but rarely a good hitter. Now it’s the FORTH base hitter who’s the star. They’re the power hitters, the ones who hit home runs on a regular basis. The fifth batter is for clean-up, a strong hitter but not quite as good as the forth. After that the batters are just in descending order of skill, with the pitcher traditionally in the eighth place – so in our case one of the best hitters on the team.” “Mulder, I’m hitting ninth.” “Yes, well…” Mulder fidgeted uncomfortably. “Pendrell’s up to bat!” Skinner yelled.

Pendrell was shaking, whether with fear or excitement it was impossible to tell. He occasionally glanced back at the dugout, trying to make eye contact with Scully (who was distracted by Mulder’s continued long-winded explanation of baseball as a game). The Bounty Hunter pitched the ball with the kind of speed and power not uncommon in small jet engines. Robert Modell yelped as it hit his glove. Pendrell stood unmoving in the batting box looking utterly baffled. “Strike,” the umpire said coolly. On the second pitch Pendrell tried to swing but missed by a mile. He struck out with his bat never getting closer than six inches to the ball. “I refuse to believe that that alien is a better pitcher than I am,” Mulder said, moping slightly. “There’s no way he can keep that kind of speed up for more than two innings.” Frohike took the plate with a swagger. “I’ve cracked pieces of code harder than you boys,” he said. “I’ve cracked EGGS harder than you”. “His frittatas are scarier than you are!” Langley yelled from the dugout. The Bounty Hunter threw the ball. Frohike threw his entire body into a bunt, connected, and barreled towards first base. He slid to safety. Virgil Incanto looked at him scornfully and spit into the dirt near the plate. His saliva sizzled. Frohike looked unimpressed. Jeffrey Spender was next. His stance was heavily defensive, shoulders hunched. The kind of posture good for a heavy rainstorm, not a baseball game. The first pitch went right over the plate, smacking heavily into Modell’s glove (for once in his life he maintained a stoic silence). “Ball,” said the Umpire. “I’m not complaining but…is he blind?” Mulder said quietly. “Ball two,” on the second, equally accurate pitch. The Bounty Hunter’s expression didn’t change, but his grip was leaving indents on the ball. “Ball three,” said the umpire as Spender checked his swing. “Ball four,” and Spender walked to first, Frohike strolling to second. “What just happened?” Pendrell asked, “and why couldn’t it have happened to me?”

Skinner was up, tapping his bat against the plate. “If anyone can tie us up it will be the Skinman,” Mulder said gleefully. We went to a batting cage once (as part of a case) and he’s the Babe Ruth of the FBI. Modell signaled something to the Bounty Hunter, then began to talk. “Hey batta batta” Skinner ignored him. “Heeeey batta batta.” The Bounty Hunter wound up, and right before the pitch left his hand, “Heey batta batta SWING!” Skinner swung, missing the ball by a mile. “Bet you can’t do that again,” said Modell. Skinner won the bet, swinging and missing. “How about a hat trick?” And Skinner struck out.

Krycek took the plate. “Who invited him?” Mulder asked Skinner as he slunk back into the dugout. “Who knows? You know Krycek – he shows up wherever he’s least wanted if he thinks he can get something out of it.” “Krycek, how are you going to bat with only one arm,” Mulder yelled. “Come to think of it, how did you field?” Krycek kept his eyes locked on the Bounty Hunter. “I’ve got more talent with one arm than you have in your whole body,” he said through clenched teeth. “Your batting helmet looks stupid,” Mulder replied. Krycek turned his eyes to the sky and exhaled deeply, missing the first pitch in the process. “Mulder, enough,” said Skinner. Krycek let the second pitch go by, watching it carefully. “Aren’t you going to try your little trick?” he asked Modell. “You have one arm. I don’t think you need any pushing to strike out.” As the third pitch approached, Krycek gripped the bat tightly with his front (good) arm and brought it forwards across his body. It connected with a satisfying crack and the ball flew towards third, bypassing Weinsider and hopping in the outfield grass. Krycek ran, skidding into first with a snarl that made Incanto step away from the base. Leonard Betts ran to get the ball, opting to get it back to the pitcher instead to one of the bases. Bases loaded. Byers struck out.

#x files #the x files #msr #mulder #scully #the lone gunmen #eugene tooms #flukeman #walter skinner #baseball #krycek #fanfic

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gaycrouton · 5 years

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Prompt: Scully’s thoughts during “the scene” in Small Potatoes

s4 // small potatoes // angst

Hahaha so #1, so sorry I was #ThatBitch and brought angst into it and #2 I’m sure this is probably heavily subconciously influenced by all the Small Potates fics I’ve read, but I still hope it’s a little different.

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Last night, alone in a second-rate motel room, she tended to a nosebleed so bad that she was afraid she might pass out if it lasted any longer. By the time it’d ended, she had several blood-soaked napkins littered around her, and a shirt with blood on it that told her the effort to save it had been fruitless.

With a sigh of resignation, she’d gone into the bathroom and stripped off her shirt, but before she had a chance to grab her spare, her breath caught in her throat.

Who was that?

She usually changed in her bathroom at home, leisure time was a luxury, so it was usually done in haste. The mirror there was above the sink, and relatively small. This one, however, showed her everything she’d been avoiding.

When her hands slid over her body in the morning, she felt it, she knew. She used to pride herself on her lean muscles, but now she felt like a skeleton with skin. Her ribs protruded grotesquely, her hip bones felt like knives, even her breasts seemed to be shrinking. She didn’t feel like Dana Scully anymore.

She felt like a personified death rattle. Looking into her face was no better. Her eyes looked tired and there was dried blood all over her nose.

Deciding she couldn’t face herself anymore, she quickly splashed water on her face, the red running clockwise down the sink reminding her of the time she had left slipping away from her. She had to brush her teeth twice to get the taste of iron out of her mouth from the rivulets that’d caught on her lip. Part of her hesitated though because it was one of the first times she remembered tasting something that the meds didn’t dull.

Then, with a sigh, she pulled her spare shirt over head and ignored the way it sexlessly draped over her, nothing to cling to, nothing to emphasize. She turned the light off, crawled into bed and listened to the lively sounds of Mulder on the other side of the wall. Undoubtedly he was still working. Every part of her wanted to go and ask him if he needed help. Maybe they would order a pizza while she laughed as he tried to find something to watch. Maybe he’d smile at her in that way he did when she hung out in his room that made her feel like a teen who’d snuck out of her parent’s house - doing something she knew she shouldn’t, but loving it too much to leave. Maybe he’d even flirt, he’d been doing that more often.

No.

He had been doing that more often.

Now she knew if she went to his room, she’d just get the same thing she always did nowadays. Those fucking sad eyes when he saw her that he tried to compensate for with the world’s weakest smile. “How are you?” he’d say gently, stopping everything he was doing to accommodate her. He’d look sad when she said “fine” but not early as sad as she’d know he’d look if she said “Sometimes the pain medicine doesn’t work and it makes me want to crawl out of my body. All I want is for you to make me feel better, but there’s nothing you can do and you’d kill yourself trying and there’s no use in both of us dying. I’ve had to throw away three pillowcases because I wake up and they are covered in blood. My hair’s thinning. My mom cried last time I saw her. I didn’t even say anything, she just saw me. “

He didn’t look at her like a woman; he looked at her like a half-written epigraph.

So, instead of going to him, she’d laid in bed and cried herself to sleep.

That was yesterday. Tonight, he’d come to her.

Tonight she felt like a woman.

His self-conscious approach initially had her worried, but it quickly turned to endearing. He came over just to see her, just to spend time with her, just because he wanted to talk.

She’d been hesitant when he mentioned that they never talked. She feared it was “You never tell me how you’re doing living with cancer” in disguise. But it wasn’t. It almost felt like he was pretending the cancer didn’t even exist, and it was a dream come true. It was like the past few months hadn’t happened. It was just good ol’ Mulder and her talking. And he’d brought wine - what a plus.

Now she was tipsy and felt oddly exposed, yet not unpleasantly. She’d always thought of how nice it would be to reveal some of herself with Mulder. She knew so much about him - what drove him on his mission, what upset him, even little memories he’d occasionally share with her offhandedly. Maybe it was her mortality nagging at her every move, but she sometimes regretted spending so much time being so prudent on maintaining their professionalism. Mulder was her friend, her best friend, and in her dreams so much more. She wanted him to know little things she loved in her childhood, stupid things she did with her highschool sweetheart, what she dreamed of at night.

Apparently he wanted too as well. He was being so attentive, hanging off her every word, and he was staring at her face like it was the first time he’d ever been this close to her. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked it.

He’d been acting pleasantly differently, but then “-you ever wish that you could go back and do it all differently?” Suddenly she couldn’t connect the dots of his logic through her tipsy haze. He dismissed the career comment as if it was a footnote, as if it wasn’t the very foundation of their relationship. She couldn’t make sense of a Mulder who disregarded the X-Files.

He brow furrowed in confusion and she asked, “Do you?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at her, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She always knew how he was feeling.

He started moving towards her and she felt her heart starting to pound out of her chest. Did he mean he wished he could have done everything in their relationship differently? But-what could be changed? Every single moment led them to who they are, every moment led to the intensity of the bond they had - regardless of how tense it’d been lately. She was thinking a mile a minute as he started slowly moving towards her, that strange look in his eye. She could just turn her head, if she turned her head he would know right now, but his hand was already pressing in between her legs for stability. He was just going to go with it and she didn’t even know how to respond other than to put her own hand in between her leg, instinctively acting as a barrier.

When he was close enough that she could feel his breath hit her lips, she realized she didn’t smell much wine coming off him , and she realized he’d been filling up her glass all evening. His own glass was behind them with wine from his first fill still untouched. Why did he want her to get drunk?

She could feel her heart beating in her ears as he leaned in further. Something wasn’t right. That was her last thought before she heard the loud splintering of wood. Turning her head over, she saw Mulder standing in the middle of her busted door frame.

Mulder? Oh my god.

She turned back in shock and Eddie Van Mulder had the audacity to smile at her. She raised her hands and pushed him away in disgust, practically jumping from the couch.

She saw her Mulder look like a million thoughts were running through his head. Shock, anger, hurt, confusion, betrayal, they all painted him like a portrait of a man mourning the loss of something that could have been and he hadn’t even known it. She probably looked the same.

Eddie morphed back on the couch and shrugged. Fucking shrugged. As if he hadn’t tried to violate her. As if he hadn’t just messed up their already fucked up relationship. With a terse voice, she heard Mulder start, “Eddie Van Bluhnt, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will-” he droned on as she mentally retreated. She watched the same mouth that had smiled at her joke earlier, purse when he looked in her direction - the same eyes that had affectionately wandering her face now looking at her with the words “you couldn’t fucking tell” screaming at her.

How ironic, the cancer probably wasn’t even on his mind and yet he was still looking at her with pity. She felt her throat closing up as the realization that none of tonight even mattered. It wasn’t him. Mulder had pulled out his phone and was calling for the police to come pick him up as she all but ran over to the bathroom to have a moment to herself.

By the time she came out, she’d prevented a breakdown, for now at least, and Mulder was talking to an officer who was currently bagging the wine glasses. He looked up and pointed at her, “She the vic?”

“Nothing happend,” she snapped before the “yes” that had formed on Mulder’s lips had a chance to be verbalized.

“Scully,” he started with a sigh.

“If my statement is needed for anything I’d prefer to give it tomorrow. I’m tired,” she sighed.

“Alright, we just need to take a few pictures and then we’ll be out of your hair miss,” the officer nodded.

“Scully, can I talk to you in the other room?” he asked, already making his way over to her and putting his hand on her side. Already making the decision for her.

He lead her into her bedroom, much like Eddie Van Bluhnt had hoped to do, and closed the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

His trademark.

She felt the question like a stab in the heart even though she knew it was warranted and in a different context. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything,” she bit. She was being mean to him and he was just worried. She was just sick of him always being worried.

“Are you sure?”

“He brought over wine and we drank it. Big deal,” she said, knowing she was avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Did he touch you?” Mulder asked, his voice softening only fueling to her aggravation.

“No, Mulder. Were you even listening to me?” she snapped.

“I just wasn’t sure. His hand seemed pretty friendly from where I was, and you didn’t seem to be too upset about it,” he snapped back. They were both upset about what just happened, but instead of it bringing them together, they were fighting. Of course.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d take a rapist trying to make me his next victim and somehow manage to make it my fault.” She didn’t want to be fighting anymore. She was tired and she was starting to feel pain in her muscles.

“I didn’t,” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. “I just feared the worst when I realized he’d gone with you.”

“Yeah. Apparently you were so certain he’d come over and try to seduce me like the other women that you felt the need to bust through my door without even knocking.”

He looked embarrassed at that, but before he could defend himself, she was already adding fuel to the fire. “What? You were so certain that I’d fall for the charms of some low-life creep masquerading as you that you came here immediately. Let me guess, you were urgent to get in here because you thought you’d find me getting fuc-”

“No!” he interrupted, looking flustered at his instinctive actions being called out as well as the crudeness of her words.

“Then why didn’t you knock?” she almost whispered, her tone sharp as a knife.

“Why were you about to kiss him?” he cut back.

“I froze, Mulder. He was being pushy and flagrantly ignoring my discomfort at the end, and I couldn’t understand why you would do that and I was confused. That’s when you barged in. Is it even possible for you to try to put yourself into my shoes for even a second? To imagine how confused I was when you were acting so weird.” He looked like he was about to answer, but she wasn’t done.

“Do you think I couldn’t tell, seriously? Do you think he just came in here and I didn’t think anything different? You can even ask him, I mentioned he was acting different several times, Mulder,” she explained, she stumbled a little bit from the wine in her system, and she saw him resist the urge to reach out and steady her. “You shouldn’t have been drinking on your meds” evident in his gaze. Heaven forbid she make a decision for herself.

“So you thought I was acting different, and yet you spent how long with him?” he asked defensively.

“I didn’t say it was a bad different,” she replied.

He looked like she’d slapped him.

The thick tension only lasted for a minute before there was a knock at the door. They turned and it was the officer standing with a camera and a few other baggies. “We’re done here, Agent Mulder.”

“Thank you, Officer. Where are you taking him?” Mulder asked, his voice sounding exhausted.

“I’ll have to confirm that with my partner,” he answered. He looked like he was about to say more when he focused on Scully and his brow furrowed. “Ma’am, you have a nosebleed.”

She raised her hand to her face and when she pulled back, her index and middle finger were saturated with blood. When she looked up she saw Mulder was looking at her with so much pity she could drown herself in it. “Scully-” he started softly, going towards her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, raising one hand to cover the bleed from his gaze and raising the other to prevent him from coming any further. “Thank you for your help officer, but I’d like to be left alone.”

“Of course,” he nodded, leaving.

She turned to Mulder and said, “Close the door on the way out, I’ll lock the deadbolt later. You didn’t break that off at least.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but she didn’t want to hear it. She just turned and walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She saw herself in the mirror and her face crumpled in silent agony.

If her nose had started bleeding an half an hour ago, she’d have let Mulder help her. He probably would have grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her face and she might have let him. She might have even told her about how she was feeling lately and he would have listened to every word. That was the last thing she thought as she listened to Mulder sigh, clearly upset, as he left her apartment.

#x files fanfic #gaycrouton #my fanfiction #small potatoes #x files 4 x 20 #4x20 #blaze it lol #eddie van bluhnt #msr #angst #cancer arc

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gaycrouton · 5 years

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Close Quarters

I’m still working on making sure all my fics are available on all three mediums (Ao3, FF.net, and Tumblr) so this my second XF Fic I ever wrote. I posted it in January of 2018 when I was desperately binging to catch up and watch 11 live. So, if it’s super OOC, keep in mind I was a wee babe back then. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Initially, the closet had seemed like a great place to hide. Mulder had no idea Scully was claustrophobic. MSR

Abandoned House

Boston, Massachusetts

October 12th, 1997

8:36 P.M.

The head of the Boston police department requested their help after finding four similarly-maimed bodies in the span of a week. They normally wouldn’t think of this case as an X-File, but all four bodies were missing their internal organs. All of them. What added to the cases’ bizarre nature was that there wasn’t a single incision mark on the body. Nothing indicating how the organs were harvested.

After a bit of investigating Mulder was certain that an ex-mafia member somehow, his reasoning still lost on Scully, was able to extract the organs via some sort of suction through the nasal cavity. Scully agreed that there was trauma in the nose, but she was adamant that his theory was implausible.

Now, after a day of searching, Mulder was positive he found the old house the guy used to execute his crimes. Mulder felt it in his gut that the guy was in there with the most recent victim, and he didn’t think twice before barging into the house without the proper team, only Scully covering his back.

After picking the front door lock, they made their way down the hallway as silently as possible. Scully felt her heart hammering in her chest, but kept her calm exterior alert and ready for action. As Mulder was looking ahead, she routinely checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming up from behind them. She honestly had reservations about them entering the house alone, with the brutal nature of the crimes, but Mulder was a man on a mission and she knew at that point arguing would have been futile.

She was in the middle of checking the rear when her body fully collided with Mulder’s taller form. She looked up to see why he had stopped when she saw the intense look of focus on his face. He was looking down at the door handle by his waist. Just as she was about to ask what was wrong, she heard a grotesque slurping sound. He glanced back at her and signaled her to get ready. As soon as she gave her affirmation, he kicked the door in.

The sight in front of them was one of the most visceral they had ever seen. An average age man was laying in the middle of the room, obviously dead, and he looked deflated. The suspect was chewing on something in his mouth, the item still dangling out with blood running down his chin, as if he bit into a juicy peach. Strewn all around him were various body parts, but in a shredded state. Scully felt her stomach lurch at the violent brutality, and she could tell by Mulder’s blanched face that he was equally as disgusted.

“FBI. Put your hands behind your head and step away from the body,” Mulder’s voice rang out, breaking the silence. To the normal ear, his voice sounded strong and assured, but Scully could hear the fear lacing his words.

The suspect slowly stood up, with a malicious glint in his eye. Once to his feet, Scully felt her heart speed up when she realized how big this guy was. Mulder was a tall man, but he probably came up to this guy’s chin. He also looked still had the mafia physique and was bludging with muscles.

“Sir, spit out whatever’s in your mouth and move back,” she yelled out, trying to sound less perturbed than she really was.

The man looked Scully in the eye and slowly slurped the long tubular item into his mouth, making a loud smack with his lips after swallowing. Scully realized it had just been part of a large intestine that he just treated like spaghetti. Not breaking their eye contact, the man finally spoke up and sneered, “A heart always tastes better when it’s been beating fast. I bet yours would be delicious.”

Before Scully could process his comment, Mulder was yelling at him again, but with added fury from the comment, “Sir, don’t make us say it again. Put your hands up!”

Not paying any attention to the agents’ warnings, he took quick steps towards them, closing the distance. Mulder and Scully moved in tandem so that they were both back in the hallway. Scully shot a bullet, aimed at the man’s shoulder, and watched in horror as he wasn’t even slightly affected. Realizing that there was no stopping the man rapidly approaching them, they both took off towards the front door.

“Damn it!” Mulder screamed when the door wouldn’t give. Scully felt something nearing her back and, without missing a beat; took an empty Jack Daniels bottle from the end table near the door, whirled around, and shattered it on the mans face, temporarily blinding him. She quickly raised a leg and kicked his hunched over frame, sending him toppling to the ground.

Mulder took advantage of his moment of weakness to grab Scully’s arm and run down the stairs near them. It led to a dank cellar with rows and rows of shelves and doors. Scully could tell that, for once, Mulder was assuming hiding would be the best option. There was nowhere for them to run, he was too strong for them to take on alone, and Mulder was banking on the possibility he didn’t hear where they went.

At random, he opened one of the thick, shuttered doors, taking a quick glance to make sure there was enough room. Scully felt her veins run cold. She was insecure about letting her fears show to Mulder, and this was one that had conveniently never come up. She had been painfully claustrophobic her whole life. Being shoved in a closet by Donnie Pfaster and a trunk by Duane Barry certainly didn’t help her fear lessen over time. She never expect to be confronted with it during such extraneous circumstances. She quickly glanced in Mulder’s eyes and he immediately recognized the fear that must have shone through. Except, he assumed it was over the cannibalistic murder chasing them, so thinking he was doing her a favor, he quickly ushered her in, following suit, and closed the door behind them. She watched him attempt to test the doorknob, and noticed his wrist wasn’t turning. It could only be opened from the outside. They were trapped.

This closet was worse than Pfaster’s. It was devoid of anything, really it was more like a cell. It was relatively tall, from the dim light emitting between the cracks, she could see Mulder probably had probably a foot of room above him. But it lacked in every other aspect. It wasn’t deep or wide, so her back was pressed to one side wall and Mulder‘s was pressed to the other, their chests flush against each other. She also could tell there wasn’t enough room to spread out her wingspan. Essentially they were stuck in the positions they were in.

After fully assessing the situation, she instantaneously could feel a cold sweat breaking out. There is a murderer looking for me and all I can focus on is being inconvenienced. Looking down to avoid looking at Mulder, she didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already was, she tried to implement a relaxation technique she learned from Melissa as a child to help with anxiety.

Focus on five things you can feel. She inhaled deeply and felt her chest brush against Mulder’s, startling her. One, Mulder’s chest. She tried to backup a little bit to give them room and her back bumped harder against the wall behind her. Two, the side of the wall. She wasn’t feeling any better, and her hand raised up instinctively to grab at her cross as a nervous tick, but when she tried to move her hand, she ended up rubbing it against Mulder’s front. And he muttered a soft apology into her hair as she finally caught the gold chain. Three, Mulder’s leg. Four, Mulder’s breath. Five, my thin necklace chain.

Focus on four things you can hear. She focused on remaining still and taking in her surroundings. Mulder was trying really hard to even his breath, presumably so they wouldn’t be found. One, Mulder’s breath . Focusing harder, she realized the suspect must’ve not seen what direction they had went. He was pounding around up stairs and cursing under his breath. Two, footsteps. Her mind temporarily stopped as she heard the footsteps approach and descend into the cellar. A cruel irony at her thoughts a second ago. Her and Mulder were still as boards as the shadow navigated between the shelves. With luck that was usually never on their side, there was a rattle upstairs and he quickly ran to investigate. Three, rattling. She felt Mulder shift a little and it reminded her of how confined the space was. If it was bad for her, Mulder must be immobile. The thought made her heart beat erratically. Four, my damn heartbeat.

Focus on three things you can see. She strained her eyes a little, but it was a fruitless effort. There was barely any light seeping in from the cellar, so everything was just a faint glow, and she didn’t want to look around too much and have Mulder see how upset she was. One, darkness; Two, the silhouette of the shutters on the blinds; Three, Mulder’s ridiculous polka-dotted tie.

She knew the next two were two smells and one taste, but she gave up because the relaxation technique did nothing but remind her of her situation. She thought she heard the bolt to the front door open, and the door slam shut. She wanted to think that he left, but knew they couldn’t risk leaving just yet. They would have to wait in hiding for a bit. She started to feel her breath quickening against her will and yet again started squirming in an attempt to form some free space.

Mulder shifted slightly to lean down toward her ear and he whispered, “Scully are you okay?”

She tried to remain calm and evenly whispered back, “Yes. I’m just backed against a wall, could you backup a little bit?”

She saw him shake his head before she heard his response, “Mine’s flush against a wall too.”

She had to bite back a whimper of fear and she kept squirming from side to side, trying to find any hidden magic corner that would pop up and give her more room. The more she struggled, she more frantic she became, and the more frantic she became the more she tried to alleviate the situation.

Unexpectedly, she felt Mulder’s hands grip her hips with a vigor she wasn’t used to. Between gritted teeth he pleaded, “Scully, you have to stop moving around like that.”

Now cemented in one place, even if it was by the hands of he man she trusted and loved above all else, she felt the claustrophobia overwhelming her. She felt her composure slipping and couldn’t bring herself to care if Mulder saw or not. She put her hands on his shoulders like a vice and raised her head to face the ceiling in an attempt to get fresh air. Out of her control, she heard her breaths coming in and out in shaking, quiet gasps that sounded like sobs.

When she felt a tear roll down her cheek, she realized that she actually was crying. Assessing that she was a few steps away from a full blown panic attack she tried to even her breathing, but it wasn’t really working.

She felt Mulder’s hands soften a bit, and she was sure his self-blaming nature assumed he caused this. He confirmed her suspicions with a remorseful whisper, “Scully, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Scully shook her head in reassurance, “No, no. It’s not you.” She saw him working out her words before realization graced his face.

“Oh my god. Scully, are you claustrophobic?” he asked incredulously. He was rewarded with a shaky confirmation.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m so sorry,” he lamented in a whisper.

“It’s not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this,” she tried to sound confident, but her voice a little too high for the effect.

He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, “What can I do to help?”

The closet in an abandoned house

Boston, Massachusetts

October 12th 1997

A few moments earlier

Mulder prefered to tackle most issues head on, but after seeing the massive guy take a bullet with no effect whatsoever, he figured running away would be the better option. As soon as he was in the cellar, he already knew he didn’t make the best choice. He was going to get up any time now.

Taking a chance, he ran to one of the closets bordering the room. Upon opening it, he realized this was a pathetic excuse of a closet, but the look in Scully’s eyes told him they were running out of time, so he shoved her in and closed the door.

Immediately his senses were overwhelmed with everything Scully, and he realized maybe they should try hiding anywhere else. He reached towards the knob and felt it remain stationary in his hand. Damn it.

He looked down to see Scully, but was only met with the top of her head. She’s probably just trying to remain as quiet as possible so we aren’t heard. He slowly exhaled and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. This was a really bad situation that was only getting worse. First there was a massive cannibal on the loose looking for them and he was trapped in a confined space with Scully. In his fantasies this would be great, but with how flush their bodies currently were to one another, this could get embarrassing.

All the sudden he felt her hand rush up his leg and he jerked a little bit. He glanced down and saw she had simply been reaching towards her necklace. He could only assume she was worried about the situation his irrationality had gotten them into and was finding solace in her faith. “Sorry,” he offered.

They stood in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the man stumbling around upstairs, stiffening when the steps came close to the stairs. He felt every second pass in slow motion as he and Scully watched the man search for them through the shelves. He felt his arms stiffen around his holster, ready to pounce in front of Scully if the time came. However, he didn’t get the opportunity because a rattle from upstairs distracted the man, sending him bolting out of the cellar.

They remained tense for a few moments, waiting to make sure he wasn’t coming back. He heard the front door open and slam and took that as a sign the coast may be clear temporarily. By the way Scully started squirming, she probably thought the same, “Scully, are you okay?”

She finally raised her head up a little and responded, “Yes. I’m just back against a wall, could you backup a little bit?”

Mulder leaned a little to test, but his back was already as pressed as it could get. “Mine’s flush against a wall too.”

She didn’t say anything, but she soon thereafter started squirming from side to side. He tried to ignore it when their life was in imminent danger, but now that they were in a moment of reprieve, he could only focus on Scully.

He felt her breasts pushed up against the bottom of his chest, and her lithe form slightly entangled with his own. The smell he always yearned to get a whiff of was now permeating the small space. It was what he designated as Scullysmell, something fresh, probably her body wash, mixed with something inexplicably her.

She kept moving from side to side in an attempt, he could only presume, to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure if she was oblivious to it or just ignoring it, but his body was flaring up in response to her movements. He felt his erection flaring up, harder than before, and pressing fervently into her hips, which were exacerbating his problem with each gyration.

Her undulating form became too much when pressure was applied a little too hard to the the wrong, perfect, place. In a flash, his hands came up to grab her hips, with a little more force than he usually would ever use towards her.

Gritting his teeth, trying to hide the arousal from his voice he pleaded, “Scully, you have to stop moving around like that.” He hoped she would catch his drift without this becoming awkward. She was a medical doctor after all, she had to understand.

For a moment, he thought she was mad at him because she stood still like a statue, but under his palms he felt her slightly trembling. Then, as quickly as he grabbed her, he felt her hands come up and clutch his shoulders. Looking down at her in confusion, he saw her head tilt all the way upwards and heard sounds emanating from her throat that eerily sounded like hyperventilation.

The tear that rolled down her cheek was what made the guilt really seep in. First he ran into this house without asking her, then he forced her into this ridiculously small closet, now he practically snapped at her while ramming his dick into her abdomen. He loosened his grip on her waist and tried to apologize, “Scull, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He felt her hair dance on his chest as she shook her head in rebuttal. In an un-Scully like whisper, she sighed, “No, no. It’s not you.”

Mulder was thrown for a loop trying to understand what could make his normally unperturbed partner so upset. He could tell she was disgusted at the gore upstairs, but as a medical doctor, it wasn’t really that out of her element. She had been in worse life threatening situations than this before and it didn’t evoke this reaction before. His mind went back to the possibility that he was making her uncomfortable, but she had just assured him that wasn’t the case. Then, it hit him, she was exhibiting the classic symptoms of claustrophobia, but they were very open to one and other and he had never heard her mention it.

It slipped out before he had more time to process, “Oh my god, Scully, are you claustrophobic?” Her nod was all the answer he needed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m so sorry,” he apologized. She hadn’t been looking at him in fear over the situation earlier, she was terrified to go in the closet. When the door didn’t open, it probably just made the situation a hundred times worse for her. She was on the verge of a panic attack and it was all his fault.

Scully must have sensed his internal battle and, as always, tried to make him feel better, “It’s not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this.” Her voice almost came out controlled, but her heighten pitch gave away her fear.

She was always so strong to make him feel better. It’s not fair to her. He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, “What can I do to help?”

She paused a moment to contemplate before responding, “Since it’s been awhile since we last heard him, do you think you could call the Boston P.D and let them know the full situation?”

Of course, even in a state of panic, she is more rational than I am. He nodded and pulled out his cell phone, redialing the local cop they’ve been investigating alongside. After filling the cop in, he was met with slight disbelief from the other side, “You trapped yourself in a closet.”

Rubbing slow circles onto Scully’s hip with his thumb, he responded, “I didn’t know it would lock behind us and it seemed like a good idea at the time. We’re alive, so I don’t think it’s the worst plan I’ve had,” Glancing down at Scully’s white-knuckled grip on his tie had him second guessing that statement. “Look, you need to issue an APB on our suspect and come and get us out. Bring the medical examiners for the body too, warn them it’s a bloodbath,” he sighed, hanging up the phone.

“Are they coming?” She asked, still trying to act nonchalant, but sounding a little breathy.

“Yeah, he said they are on the other side of town, but that it won’t be too long,” he reassured. Placing a hand on the side of her face, he prompted her to look at him. “Hey, tell me what’s bothering you. You help me with everything, let me do something for you. It will help to vocalize your thoughts,” he hoped he wasn’t making her more uncomfortable. She did so much for him and he loved her so much for it, whether she knew it or not, he only wanted to provide the same thing for her.

Scully was never one to be vocal, he knew that. So asking this of her was asking for a lot. He could tell she was searching for the right words, but in this moment, he noticed she was slightly distracted from the situation and that’s all he wanted.

“Um, I’ve always been claustrophobic. Sometimes the job requires me to be in small spaces, but usually it’s over before it begins,” she started. “When I was six, I was playing hide and seek and I thought hiding in the hamper would be a great idea.”

Her breath was evening out as she told the story, and he treasured hearing her talk about her past, so he prompted her to continue, “What happened?”

“Um, Bill thought it would be funny to set a cooler full of ice on top of the hamper so I couldn’t get out. He forgot about it after a few minutes, he was just a kid, and him and Charlie went out and rode their bikes,” I’ve never wanted to smack a kid before this moment . “I screamed, and screamed, but no one was home and I was so afraid I would run out of air. I think I hyperventilated and passed out.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged the sides of her neck, hoping distracting her was helping, and trying to ignore the reaction his body was having to this full Scully-immersion. He wanted to hear more, “So what ended up happening?”

“Missy came home from the mall and tried to throw her clothes in the hamper and found me instead. She woke me up and asked me what happened. When I started crying while telling her, she found Bill and beat him up,” she chuckled at the memory. Mulder felt a wave of adoration towards the late-Scully sister.

“And that’s when your claustrophobia started?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, I think it was exacerbated by my time with Duane Barry and Donnie Pfaster,” he felt unresolved anger rise at the thought of those two men, but instead chose to relish in Scully’s openness.

“Have you ever found anything that helped?”

She contemplated this for a minute, “Well, I feel a little better having you talk to me right now. Once I was waiting in a line and my friend massaged my back and it helped,” she mentioned, her words a little softer at the end.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently, and carefully, maneuvered her around.

Realizing his intent, she quickly reassured, “Mulder you don’t have to do this. I-”

He silenced her with a soft “shhh” and placed his hands on her scalp. He was going to start from top to as far down as the space would allow.

On multiple occasions, he caught Scully reading something with a hand under her hair. It took a few instances of her doing it for him to realize she was slowly raking her fingernails over her scalp. Many women considered their hair and scalp an erogenous zone.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, because it could lead him to a downward spiral, he started on his mission. Using the slight nails he had, he gently moved his fingers in delicate circles across her scalp, paying close attention to her hairline. He heard a soft sigh and wanted to make sure she wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“Am I doing okay?” he asked, hoping his self conscious nature wasn’t noticeable. She moved ever so slightly under his ministrations and mumbled a soft affirmation.

He moved down a little slightly so he was at the base of her neck, where her hair ended. She allowed her head to rest against the wall in front of her, giving him better access. He moved the pads of his fingers across the milky expanse of her neck, grinning to himself when he noticed a light layer of goosebumps had covered her skin.

He allowed his full palms to cover her shoulder, and his long fingers draped onto her thin collarbone. He could honestly say without any hesitation that he had never given anyone a massage before. He was nervous that it could be taken as an elaborate version of copping a feel, so he added pressure and tried to press on any muscle groups he felt.

Moving away from her shoulders and upper back, he took one arm in his hands and gently massaged his way down. When he got to her hands, he took the time to massage her palm and every individual finger before repeating the process on her other side. He reveled in the feel of her dainty hand swallowed in his much larger ones.

Mulder felt selfish for how much he was enjoying being able to touch her like this, but from the way her breath seemed to be deep and low, he figured it was helping at least a little.

Finishing up her arms, he resumed where he left off on her back. As soon as his palms met the curve of her waist, he had to suppress every dirty fantasy he’s ever had involving his hands in a very similar place, but their bodies connected in other ways. Coughing lightly, he applied pressure to the delicate and strong muscles beneath her clothes. Mulder’s hands stilted a little when he thought he heard a soft moan come from the petite woman’s mouth.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, feeling embarrassed at how low and rough his voice came out.

He felt himself grow impossibly harder when her voice came out the same way, “N-no, not at all. Keep going. Please.”

He moved tentatively down to her lower back, using both of his thumbs to massage a circle where he knew her tattoo was. He slid forward to a part of her body that was body safe and risque at the same time: the area where her hips connected to her legs. Too far back and his hands would be on her butt, too far forwards and he could get punched in the face. He just ran pressure-filled fingers up and down the area. He quickly realized through the thin material of her pants something that would be fuel for many nights to come; Dana Katherine Scully, his beloved partner, wore thongs to work.

His mind temporarily stopped working, but before he had time to resume his impromptu massage, three things happened within a five second span. First, Scully, whether intentional or not he still doesn’t know, pressed her well-rounded ass right onto his erection. Second, the door to the closet swung open, blinding them with light. Third, Scully and Mulder, who had been so engrossed in what they had been doing and were now faced with the possibility of the killer finding them, were so taken aback that they screamed their lungs out right in the face of the Boston cop who just tried rescued them.

“Umm, sorry to interrupt Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, but we found your guy a few blocks over and we have him on the way to the station for questioning,” a young cop muttered as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking them in the eyes.

He kept his profile to the side, relying on Scully’s shocked form to hide the monster in his pants from the young cop in front of him. Glancing down at Scully, he patted himself on the back when he noticed her face was flush, not just from embarrassment, and her eyes were glazed over. He also noticed that her bottom lip looked red and abused, like she had been biting on it. The mental picture was almost too much for him, but Scully’s voice broke him out of his reviere, “Thank you. I assume the crime scene is being examined upstairs? We will meet you there in a moment, we want to make sure nothing else is down here.” The cop nodded and hastily took the excuse presented to leave.

He turned to look at Scully, whose eyes were already focused on him. He was about to open his mouth to apologize for taking it too far, when Scully placed a gentle kiss on his lips. His face broke into, what he was sure to be, the goofiest smile to ever grace his face. Looking down at her in bewilderment she smiled back.

“Thank you Mulder, but I’m afraid you weren't able to finish. We’ll have to resume this later,” she teased before walking to the staircase, leaving a very excited and happy Mulder in her wake.

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #msr #msr fanfic #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully

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gaycrouton · 6 years

Text

Zest

Words of Lust 26/27 [Scully gets injured, and a guilty Mulder is more than willing to help her recover and make her as comfortable as possible.]

Zest: (noun) great enthusiasm and energy.

She didn’t know how many times she had to tell Mulder she forgave him and reassure him she knew it was an accident. “Scully, I am so, so sorry,” his voice lamented, breaking her out of her train of thought. Apparently, the answer was a thousand times too many.

They’d been chasing what Mulder insisted was a phantom, and what authorities later told them was a punk-ass teenager in a costume. Regardless, in the moment, Mulder and her had been bounding up the stairs of an obnoxiously large mansion. The staircase probably consisted of thirty to forty stairs and they were a little too steep to be comfortable. Mulder was running up them with reckless abandon in front of her, shouts of “Come on, Scully. Get those little legs moving,” egging her on. When they were almost at the top, Mulder’s foot caught on the step and he fell forward onto the lip of a step. He reached out his hands and caught himself easily. She, however, was not that lucky.

Having been running directly behind him as fast as she could. She didn’t notice his slip up, so she immediately collided with him and the impact sent her flying backwards. Her foot fell off the step and she had she had that sensation of her gut bottoming out in dread. Her arms flew out to grab onto something, which ended up being her downfall. Her right arm was at such an awkward angle when her body first came in contact with the step that the force snapped it, the ‘crack’ creating a grotesque harmony with her scream. Her arm hurt so bad that attempting to catch herself became futile, she just continued tumbling down the stairs, vaguely hearing Mulder shout her name. At one point she remembered hitting the back of her head on the edge of a step, but she forgot what happened after that.

The next thing she remembered was Mulder hovering over her, looking absolutely panicked. “Scully, Scully, are you with me?” He was cupping her cheek with one hand and brushing her hair back with the other, his eyes almost constantly magnetized to her arm. Which, now that attention was drawn to it, hurt like hell. She let out a little whimper of pain that seemed to both relieve and worry him simultaneously. “Scully, I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were that close behind me,” his voice was laced with grief and his face was contorted in sorrow.

“I-ss no-yer faul,” she slurred. She meant to say ‘ it’s not your fault’, but if she had to guess, and if the pain at the back of her skull was any indication, she had a concussion.

Mulder’s eyes widened and he looked, if possible, even more concerned than he had just been. “Scully?”

“I ‘it mm-my ‘ead,” she tried to lift her right arm to gesture to it, but the pain was too sharp, making her cry out. It was so bad that tears started to brim in her eyes despite her effort to hold them at bay.

“I’m sorry, Scully. We have to get you to the hospital. Can you stand, are your legs okay?” He asked.

She eased herself up after wiggling her toes and the fingers she could, testing mobility. The world seemed to rush around her a little bit, but she was able to get on her feet, relying heavily on Mulder for support. It was when she tried to take a step that her success was short lived. When one foot went up, her whole body came crashing down. Or, it would have, had Mulder not taken the initiative to swoop her into his arms bridal-style. “I got you, Scully. I got you, I’m going to take you somewhere safe, okay?”

She nodded and leaned against the hollow of his neck. He was walking with absolute care and caution, trying his best to jostle her as minimally as was possible. He was able to get her into the car and to the hospital with the least amount of discomfort possible. The whole time, Mulder kept repeating that he was sorry and was constantly fussing over things he could do to make her feel better; adjusting her seat, fixing the temperature, rolling down the window, but the only thing he ended up truly having to do was pull over so she could throw up on the side of the road. He stood behind her and held her hair back as he rubbed circles into her back with words of comfort.

When they got to the hospital her suspicions were confirmed; she had a concussion and a fractured shoulder, but aside from some other bumps and bruises, she was fine. They were there for about an hour, getting all the odds and ends covered, and, after a while, her speech stopped being slurred, she wasn’t vomiting anymore, and she was more steady. After her arm was examined and placed in a sling, the doctor left for a moment to get her some medicine to ease the pain. She turned over to look at Mulder, who had been sitting quietly in a chair by the wall this whole time.

If there was one thing years of partnership had taught her, it was how to spot a sulking Mulder. “Mulder,” she sang, prompting him to look at her. “Is everything okay?”

He chuckled, with no humor behind it, “You shouldn’t be asking me that. Scully, I almost killed you.”

She laughed at the absurdity of his statement, “Mulder, don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t do anything to me.”

He looked at her like she had grown a second head, “Scully, I made you fall down the stairs and you broke your arm and have a severe concussion.”

“No, Mulder. I was running too close to you and I bumped into you, who had also tripped. Also, no, I fractured my shoulder and I got a mild concussion. I’ll be fine,” she reiterated.

He didn’t look comforted and just sighed, running a hand through his hair. He let his hand fall back into his lap with a thud and he looked directly at her, “You could have easily snapped your neck, you could have hit your head so hard that the impact alone killed you,-” His voice got choked at the end and he looked down in his lap. Even from here, Scully could see he was getting emotional.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she rushed, slipping off the exam table so she could stand by him. She wrapped her good arm around him, pulling his head flush against her abdomen, and his arms snaked around her to pull her closer.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her blouse. She could feel a little dampness on her belly, and she knew he was crying. Even though it didn’t turn out to be that bad of an accident, she knew Mulder was beating himself up. He did everything in his power everyday to keep her healthy and safe, knowing that he inadvertently hurt her was probably killing him. If she reversed the situation, she understood. He was the most important person in the world to her, she remembered the lingering guilt she had every time he would grimace after she shot him, and he was right, this fall really could have killed her. She was lucky.

She kissed the top of his head and whispered, “The only thing hurting me right now is knowing you blame yourself. Can’t we both just recognize this was an accident and count our blessings?”

She didn’t get an answer because the doctor came back, giving her a small bottle of pain pills and admittance papers. “Um, what are these for?” she asked, holding the clipboard up.

“Dr. Scully, you have a concussion. I know I don’t have to tell you how closely monitored that needs to be.”

“I know, I know, get plenty of rest and be checked on every hour or two through the night. I understand. I’ll set an alarm, check myself, and I’ll be fine,” she rambled. She knew she fit the stereotype that doctors made the worst patients, but she just wanted to go back to their motel.

“But Dr. Scully, if you’re not okay, you won’t wake up. I’m sorry, I really must insist-”

“I’ll do it,” Mulder exclaimed from his chair, causing both Doctors in the room to turn to him. “I’ll set an alarm and check on her all night, it’s the least I can do.”

She didn't know if it was Mulder’s zest or her attitude, but the Doctor sighed and relented. The doctor instructed Mulder to wake her up every hour and a half, check her pupils for dilation and get a coherent sentence out of her. Mulder regarded the information studiously, and shortly thereafter, they were released.

Scully thanked Mulder for helping her out and they drove back to the motel in companionable silence. She didn’t know if it was exhaustion or if he was still pouting, but he looked a bit dejected. She held his hand, which was resting in the middle console, and squeezed it in reassurance. He looked over at her and gave her a sweet smile, seemingly happier. She didn’t move her hand for the rest of the ride.

Eventually, they got back and Mulder helped Scully into her room. Even though she was a little tired, she was excited to wash off the stress of the day in a nice hot shower. However, when she voiced this, she was met with unexpected resistance.

“Scully, are you sure that’s the best idea?” he asked, not wanting to irritate her, but wanting to voice his concern.

“I feel gross, I just really need this. It won’t be long,” she explained, turning on the bathroom light before returning to the bed.

“Do you need any help?” his tone lacked the suggestiveness the words implied. She felt herself getting a little unnecessarily flustered and she had to think about this rationally.

“Could you turn around and if I do need any help I’ll ask?” she offered. He turned around with an eager nod and she started her attempt to disrobe. Her jacket was already off from the hospital visit and she moved her left hand to the top of her shirt, trying to undo the buttons. Trying being the operative word. It seemed easy in theory, but in practice, her left hand didn’t have the same muscle memory, the buttons were small, and the task was hard with just one hand.

She let out a frustrated sigh and she saw Mulder instinctively move to turn around before stopping himself. “Okay, I do need your help, I’m sorry.”

“Scully, don’t be sorry,” he lamented, moving towards her. “I’ll do whatever you need.”

“I can’t undo these buttons, I think that’s all I need,” she explained. All the sudden she was having a harder time looking at him and she knew a light blush was tainting her cheeks, but she still kept her professional demeanor as much as she could with this exceeding vulnerability.

“No problem,” he reassured. He started with the top button and she could see he was being shy. He looked like he wanted to keep his eyes on the task, but was nervous it would look like his gaze was leering at her, especially when his eyes widened on the button that revealed she wasn’t wearing anything but her nude bra under her button up. The awkward nervous tension was also heightened by the fact that, for once, Mulder was silent. She could imagine all the innuendos and flirtations that would be thrown her way under normal circumstances, but he was being reserved since he felt so guilty.

He was lightly pulling the shirt way so that his fingers wouldn’t accidentally graze her bare skin. The amount of dedication to making her feel comfortable, though unnecessary, was absolutely endearing. Once he got to the bottom of her shirt. He unclipped her sling temporarily and helped her slide out of her shirt. “Are you going to wear the sling?” he asked.

“No, I’m going to wrap my arm in plastic and use some stretchy gauze around my neck,” she informed. He nodded and threw the sling with her shirt and moved to turn around again. “Wait-,” she said, stopping him. “My pants.”

He swallowed and nodded again, continuing to be uncharacteristically silent. He moved back in front of her and moved his hands to her waist, sliding part of the belt out of the pant loops so he could unbuckle it, sliding it all the way off when it was free. Then he popped the button out of her pants and slid her zipper down.

Now she was acting just as flustered as he was, trying to keep her breathing under control as she tried to find something in the room to focus on instead of the man undressing her. There was no way to avoid the touching here. He looped his thumbs under the waistband of her pants and helped them fall down her legs, keeping the waist open so she could step out of them. Now she was just in her bra and underwear, and Mulder was completely avoiding looking at her. She would have been a little offended in his seeming disinterest if it wasn’t for the slight tent she could see in his pants reassuring her otherwise.

“Thank you, Mulder. I’ve got it from here. I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time. Be safe, I’ll be out here. Holler if you need anything,” he replied in a slightly strained voice.

She grabbed her plastic, gauze, and towel and slid into the bathroom. While in there, she unclasped her bra, struggling slightly, eased out of her panties, and fixed up her arm with the utmost care before stepping in the small shower. She turned on the spray and was relieved when it came out hot without needing to warm up. She sighed and let the warm water hit her aching body.

Scully leaned down and awkwardly got a dollop of shampoo into her hand, leaving the bottle uncapped. She reached up and started massaging the liquid into a lather on her head. It was all going good, but then some of the foam eased down her face and got into her eyes. She cursed silently and moved to turn around so she could rinse out her eyes. However, her foot landed on some spilled shampoo and, yet again, Scully found herself losing the fight against gravity.

She screamed out, “Fuck,” as she slipped and landed on her ass, miraculously keeping her damaged arm safe. The other arm had darted out and grabbed the shower curtain in an attempt to stabilize her, sending the bar crashing down into the shower with her. All the while, she was still blind from the shampoo.

She was too busy trying to recover to hear Mulder barge in until she heard his voice reverberate in the room as he turned off the water. “Oh my god, Scully are you okay?”

Her eyes were still shut as she wrapped the shower curtain around her naked chest. “I got shampoo in my eyes and then I slipped,” she whined.

“Can I help you up?” he asked.

“Please,” she sighed, holding out her left arm. He grabbed her arm and wrapped one of his own around her back, helping her up to sit on the ledge, her legs still in the tub. “Can you hand me a towel?” Within a second of asking, she felt a cloth being placed in her outstretched hand. She brought it to her face and wiped the offending suds out of her eyes before handing it back.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the transparent shower curtain she had forgotten about, doing absolutely nothing to help her modesty. The second thing she saw was Mulder doing his best impression of a tomato. “Are you okay though?” he asked again, not looking at her.

“Yeah, just a bruised ego,” she sighed. She stood up, being he wasn’t looking. When she was up, she used her slinged arm to cover her breasts and used her free hand to keep her little tuft of red hair out of his view. “Um, Mulder, could you do me a favor and put the rod back up?”

Now he did look at her, one fleeting glance to her body before staring at her face with a look of incredulous shock. “Scully, you’re really going to try again? You were in here for less than a minute before falling. You have a concussion, you’re not steady right now.”

“Mulder, I have shampoo in my hair and I need to finish. I haven’t been able to take a shower in three days because we were chasing ghosts,” she sighed in frustration.

She regretted the last comment a bit when his face took on an expression of guilt for the thousandth time tonight. “I’m sorry,” he replied, even though he’d said it more times than she could count, it never lost its sincerity. She knew Mulder was still blaming himself for everything that had happened to her in the last few hours.

“Mulder, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, It wasn’t your fault. I just want to take a shower and lay down,” she explained.

“Scully, I’m not going to lie. I’m worried you’re just going to fall again. You don’t need anymore injuries,” he joked, but his words were serious. She stopped for a second and really took in his disheveled appearance. To be honest, he looked like shit.

“Mulder, when was the last time you took a shower?” she asked.

“About four days ago-” he answered, his entire being freezing in shock at the implications of her question. He stood with his mouth slightly open, looking like a deer in headlights, not making another move until he was sure he was understanding her correctly.

“It would kill two birds with one stone,” she mumbled, trying to get over her own embarrassment for the sake of practicality. “I mean, we’re adults. We’ve seen each other naked before, and you’d stop me from injuring myself further,” she shrugged nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t trying to convince her partner of seven years to share a shower with her.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” was all he said, she couldn’t fully decipher his emotions right now, that stupidly adorable deer in headlights look still masking his face.

“Mulder, I’m the one who suggested it. I wouldn’t ask if I was uncomfortable,” she laughed. She got serious again and added, “I mean, but I also don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you’d rather not I-”

“No, no, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure,” he stammered, moving to put the shower curtain and rod back up.

“Good, good,” she swallowed, nodding her head casually. Now they were separated by the shower curtain and she could see him whip off his shirt and toss it on the counter, doing the same with his pants. She realized she was gawking and glanced back at the shower. Curiosity only allowed that to happen for a moment before she was looking back, seeing he was already pulling the curtain back. “Are you wearing your boxers in the shower?” she asked.

“Um, yeah. Uh, I just-” he stumbled.

She realized he was doing it to keep a future erection from stabbing at her in the close quarters and to help ease any impending embarrassment. She laughed lightly and singaled for him to stop. “Ah, no it’s fine. I get it.”

He looked relieved that he didn’t have to say it outloud as he stepped in the shower behind her. He reached behind him and turned on the shower, the hot stream hitting them both once again. She was facing the wall, about to reach up to rinse out her hair, when Mulder beat her to it. She felt his fingers tentatively come up to her hair and he started massaging circles into her scalp, taking caution of the knot on her head, the suds running down her back. She couldn’t remember the last time someone else washed her hair for her, it had to have been years. God it feels good. She let her eyes close and she reclined her head, giving him full access.

He ran his hands over her the length of hair for a minute, making sure to get everything out before he reached for the conditioner, running it through her hair with equal care. Once it was in, he reached down for the body wash, letting the conditioner sit for a moment. “Do you want me to wash your back while you get the rest?” he asked.

His voice pulled her out of her daze and she mumbled a soft, “Mhm.” She extended her left hand and he poured a generous amount of the Vanilla Honey body wash onto her hand. She heard him get some himself before shutting the lid and setting it back down. She put her hand on her chest and started rubbing it around as he worked on her back, being sensitive to her shoulder. She had to concentrate to avoid getting too distracted by Mulder’s hands.

He was giving her an impromptu back massage and it felt great. His hands felt erotic against her naked wet skin, as he moved down his fingers were curved around her sides as his thumbs kneaded her back. She felt her nipples poke against her forearm and she tried to shake off the arousal gripping her and she leaned down just a little to wash her thighs and, quickly, her crotch. She felt like an exhibitionist touching herself in front of Mulder, even if it wasn’t particularly sexual in nature. “It smells like you,” he commented absentmindedly.

“Thank you,” she responded breathily. His hands got to right above where her back ended and her ass began when he removed them, washing them off before returning to her hair. He continued his ministrations to get the conditioner fully out. His nails scraped against her head, and she knew her body was breaking out in goosebumps, despite the heat of the water. Her scalp had always been an erogenous zone for her and, after he hit a particularly sensitive spot, she accidentally moaned in her mouth. She’d like to think he didn’t hear it over the roar of the water, but from the way he went over that spot again hoping for an encore, she hadn’t been that lucky.

After a moment of pure bliss, he got all the conditioner out and let her go, much to her chagrin. “Is there anything else you need help with?” he shouted loudly to be heard.

She turned around to face him, taking note of the way his eyes flicked downwards quickly, also noting when he saw hers do the same, and asked, “Could you wash my face?”

He looked surprised but nodded, reaching down and grabbing her blue Clean and Clear. He applied a liberal amount to his hands, rubbing them together before he shielded her from the spray of the water and started massaging her face. He’d touched her face plenty of times over the years, but this felt special. His entire focus was on her and his touch was nothing short of reverence.

She had stood there for a second just watching him admire her, but his gaze was too powerful and she decided to close her eyes and enjoy it instead. He moved like an expert, rubbing over her forehead, her t zone, her cheeks, her chin, but then he hesitated for a second. He cupped her face and traced the curve of her lip with the pads of his thumbs. The action caused her to peek open her eyes and she saw his gaze focused intently on her lips, she inadvertently parted them and her breath hit his thumbs. She felt him move and she shut her eyes before he caught her staring.

He must’ve grabbed a hand towel because she felt wet cloth touch her face, wiping away the skin cleanser off her face. She felt like she was being baptized by him and she knew a doofy smirk was tugging on her lips. She couldn’t help it, she was just so comfortable right now. She opened her eyes when the towel left her face and she saw him draping the fabric over the rod. “How do you feel?” he asked.

“Squeaky clean,” she replied honestly. Mulder smiled at her and turned off the water. He slid the curtain open and offered her his hand for support so she could get out. As soon as she was safely on the other side, she grabbed the towel she’d laid out and wrapped it around her, turning around to see Mulder still in the shower. “Are you coming?”

“Um actually, I thought I’d finish up in here while you get dressed and what not,” he answered.

She was about to ask what he needed to finish up with, but one glance down to his raised boxers was answer enough. “Okay, sounds good,” she replied sweetly, not wanting to embarrass him. She was in the same boat, hers just wasn’t visible.

She left the bathroom and let out a big sigh. She just took a naked shower with Mulder. Jesus, if Dana Scully from seven years ago even thought of doing that, she’d die on the spot. This Dana Scully wanted to rush back in and join him again. She wandered over to her suitcase and pulled out her pyjamas; a large Radiohead t-shirt and a pair of underwear. While she normally may have been a little shy, this outfit was a habit compared to how he just saw her.

As she got out her clothes, she heard the unmistakable sound of his soaking boxers plopping to the floor followed by the sound of skin slapping skin. She wasn’t surprised, but it was still equal parts shocking and arousing. He was masturbating after seeing her naked. He was probably thinking about her. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

Scully removed the plastic and gauze of her makeshift sling. She was very, very cautious as she eased her delicate arm on the whole of the short and maneuvered the rest of her body to follow. Next came the sling, followed by her underwear, which were a dark green, bikini cut, revealing half of her ass. The whole time she was changing, she could hear the sounds of muffled pants and wet friction. As she moved her suitcase off the bed, she heard a particularly loud slap and a poorly disguised cough. That didn’t take long, he’d been close.

The water shut off and she started brushing her hair. Looking at her bag, she realized she left her bra and underwear in the bathroom, and simultaneously remembered he didn’t have a change of clothes nor did she remember if he even had a towel in there. Wanting to be on the safe side, she jogged to his room, got out a pair of yellow boxers she’d seen him sleep in before, and ran back at the same time he called out her name.

“I got you some clothes,” she responded, walking through the adjoining door. When she saw him, he had a white towel draped loosely across his hips, revealing the top of his tantalizing pelvic muscles. She almost looked away when she realized, under the circumstances, that would be ridiculous.

“Thanks, I was worried when I didn’t see you,” he replied appreciatively, taking the clothes out of her hands.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me tonight.” They smiled at each other and the shroud of sexual tension they usually had seemed exponentially thicker. Per usual, she was the first one to break it. “Um, so, I think I’m going to go to bed,” she laughed out of nerves.

“Oh, uh, me too. I’m going to set my alarm though. Every hour and a half, right?” He asked for clarification, even though she knew damn well he committed her medical advice to memory.

“Yep, thanks for doing that again.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he whispered sweetly.

She grinned and looked away, “I’ll see you at 1:30,” she quipped.

He winked and strutted back to his room, leaving the door cracked open like they’d been recently doing nowadays. She walked over to her bed, turned off the light, and collapsed onto the foamy mattress, succumbing to sleep almost instantaneously.

The next thing she knew, Mulder was running a finger over her cheek singing her name. “Scully-Scully-bo-Bully-banana-fo-Fully-f-“ she groaned to cut him off and he laughed at her disgruntled state. “Sorry, Doctors orders. I’m going to turn on the light, so watch your eyes.” From behind her eyelids, she saw the room brighten and she opened her eyes slowly, letting herself adjust. The first thing her eyes focused on was Mulder sitting on the bed next to her, his muscular chest illuminated like a granite statue in a museum. “I know my body can be distracting, but I need you to look at my eyes for just a sec, then feel free to return to your appreciation,” he teased with a wink.

She felt her face get hot and she looked into his eyes, noting the amusement in their depths. He continued to look at her for a while, long enough that she started to get concerned they might actually be dilated and the concussion got worse. Then she saw his face adopt a shiteating grin and he smirked, “Just as beautiful as I remember.” She noted that he looked as tired as she felt, and she was going to blame that on why he was being an unabashed flirt right now. “Now I just need a coherent, non-slurred sentence and you can return to sleep for the next hour and a half.”

“Can you be this flirty at a decent hour?” she requested. If he could be this amorous under the guise of sleepiness, so could she.

“You bet I can. Decent and even more indecent hours, as you’ll see at three,” he laughed. He leaned down and placed a kiss to her cheek before turning out the light and heading to his room. She fell back asleep immediately, though not as soundly.

He came back to her room almost immediately, this time instead of sitting on the bed, he lifted the covers and slid underneath with her, kissing her cheek until she turned towards him. She cracked open her eyelids and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a sensual kiss. He placed one hand on the side of her head and deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing her own with a mix of light and hard pressures, always keeping her surprised. The hand that wasn’t in her hair snaked down between them, under the elastic of her panties, and slipped in between her soaking wet folds, smiling in pride against her lips at the discovery.

“Are you wet for me?” he asked against her lips.

“Uh-huh,” she moaned incoherently. He started flicking his finger against her clit and she started thrusting against his hand, desperate for this pressure to release. When she was close, he slid out from under the sheets and stood next to the bed, causing her to groan loudly in sexual frustration.

“Scully,” he called out. She arched her back and ground her hips against the bed a bit, trying to get some more friction. She peeked her eyes a little through the darkness and saw him standing over her. She grabbed his wrist and whined in a husky voice laced with sleep and sexuality, “Mulder, come back to bed. Please.”

“Scully?” he repeated in confusion, his voice sounding a lot louder and clearer than it just had. Her eyes snapped fully open this time and she saw the red lights flashing ‘3:00.’ She realized in embarrassment that none of that was real, but the pulsating need in her crotch was.

He must’ve seen her eyes darting around because his voice took on a note of pure worry, “Scully, are you disoriented?”

“Um, uh, n-no, I was just, just dreaming,” she wanted to slap herself for the Freudian slip, but Mulder seemed more concerned about the stuttering of her sentence.

He turned on the light and sat next to her, the light being so bright she had to turn away. He gently cupped her face and turned her head his way. “Scully, I need you to look at me.”

His touching and closeness really wasn’t helping her flustered state, but she opened her eyes anyway. Only, to be met with absolute concern. “Scully, you’re eyes are dilated, or at least, I think they are? Do we need to go to the hospital? I can just-” he started rambling but the embarrassment in her head was louder. They are dilated because I’m aroused after a dream of you finger fucking me.

He was still going on when she raised her good hand to signal him to stop, “No, no, Mulder. I’m fine. They’re just dark because I was sleeping.”

“You were sleeping last time and they didn’t look like this. You were moaning and writhing too, does your arm hurt? Do you need more medicine? You look flushed, are you sure you’re fine? Or is it your weird ‘I’m fine’ you say when you’re actually not fine,” he was speaking a mile a minute and Scully wanted to dissolve into the bed.

“Mulder, I told you. I was just dreaming. See, I’m speaking clearly, and my eyes maybe a little dilated, but they aren’t blown, that’s what would be a bad sign,” she elaborated, just wishing to dispel his worry so she could pretend like he didn’t just see her having a full fledge sex dream.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her like he looked at a case file when he made a new development. She stayed totally still, watching the way his eyes carefully took inventory of her status. “Was it a nightmare?” he asked, an unreadable tone.

“No, no, nothing like that,” she reassured. “Just a nice dream.” Her eyes unintentionally raked over his lean body, recalling all too well how it felt in her dream. When her eyes went back to his face, she realized he had caught her staring and was grinning at her. Like a lion who’d wandered into a pen of lambs; predatory and hungry. The look sent a bolt of arousal straight to her already soaked crotch.

“You told me to come back to bed,” he stated proudly.

Fuck.

“D-Did I?” she questioned lamely.

“Yes. Yes you did,” he cooed, leaning a bit closer to her, eyes flickering down to her throat as she gulped. “So, you were saying it was a nice dream?”

God, she was so aroused, and the way he was looking at her was doing nothing to alleviate that fact. The professional side of her told her to tell him to go back to his room, to tell him they had gone too far tonight. The rational side of her told her to tell him exactly what made that dream so nice, to tell him they’d been dancing around fate for years and her feet were getting tired. “It was a very nice dream,” she whispered coyly.

“What was it about?” he asked, a fire lit behind his eyes.

“It was about the same thing you were imagining while you finished up your shower,” she stated with a mixture of teasing and lust.

She saw his adam’s apple bob in his neck as her seemed to scoot closer to her on the bed. He looked at her with excited anticipation, but clearly not wanting to get his hopes up too high in case she shut down this banter, which probably seemed too good to be true, “Could I get a reminder? I’ve always been a bit of a kinesthetic learner.”

Without breaking eye contact, she reached for his malleable hand and led it closer to her. It started on her chest, where the comforter began. Her fingers interlaced with his, pressing it palm down on her body, she led it down past the sheet, sliding down her abdomen. She watched him as he watched their hands, transfixed. Her guidance continued down to the elastic band of her bikini underwear. Without taking her hand off his, she lifted the band and eased his hand further down with her, causing him to gasp. They trailed through the short curls of her pubic hair until they met her throbbing wetness. This time Mulder moaned, but she could barely hear it over her own.

The feel of his fingers, so much larger than her own, cupping her sex was pleasurable beyond her wildest dreams. She felt his fingers take initiative and they curved against her, brushing against her clit and causing another gasp to leave her lips. “There was a bit before this, but this was the focal point of mine. I don’t know about yours, but I don’t remember much after this since I was rudely interrupted,” she jokingly pouted.

Mulder was moving his fingers teasingly against her, clearly enjoying the way she burrowed into the bed to get closer to his hand. “That’s a shame, I remember a lot more.” He leaned down so his face was hovering over hers. “I could fill you in on how it ended, if you’d like?” How like Mulder, she shoves his hand down her underwear and he still needs her complete reassurance.

She smiled up at him, “I’d love it if you filled me in,” she cheekily breathed, playing with the words. It earned her a smile she barely got to see since his mouth quickly descended onto hers. She opened her mouth, deepening the kiss and he eagerly joined her. His fingers continued circling around her rosy bud and she moaned into his mouth before biting his lip teasingly. He kissed her jaw before moving down to suckle at her neck, nipping at the pulse point under his mouth. With the unpreoccupied hand, he threw the covers back and repositioned himself in between her legs. Never stopping either of his ministrations.

She whimpered in pleasure at the overwhelming stimulations her body was having right now and it caused him to pull back a little. “Scully, is this going to hurt your arm? I can wait if we need to,” he panted, looking down at her with concern superseding the lust taking residency.

She would die on the spot if he stopped now. “I can’t,” she sighed sensually, grinding her hips into his hand, “It’ll be fine, we’ll just have to be mindful of it.”

He beamed like a kid in a candy store and licked his lips, “Well it’s a good thing the next part of my fantasy doesn’t involve jostling it at all.” She was about to ask what he meant when he started kissing his way down her t-shirt clad torso while easing her underwear down her legs at the same time. Oh please, please, please, please. She continued this silent mantra in her head as he placed his hands on her knee caps and spread her legs as wide as they’d go, revealing her sopping wet, swollen arousal. “Oh, fuck,” he praised, drawing out the last word.

He moved so he was laying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around her thighs and his mouth inches from where it was meant to be. Please, please, please. She couldn’t even tell if this was still in her head or if she was crying out loud. She was delirious with desire. He let out a breath and it felt cool on her wetness. She was gripping onto the sheet next to her with her good hand and he hadn’t even put his mouth on her ye-oh fuck.

Now that one was definitely out loud. Mulder was currently sucking on her clit with perfect intent. God, this man drove her crazy. He let go of her clit and moved his tongue down to slide inside her, curving a bit to hit that rough patch at the top of her interest. She was unabashedly whining now as his jaw worked wonders against her. While his tongue was plunging in and out of her at a superhuman rate, his nose was rubbing back and forth against her clit. She had to stop herself from grinding herself against his face in fear of suffocating him.

Apparently she wasn’t resisting the urge too well because Mulder’s grip around her legs tightened to keep her in place. His tongue trailed back up and returned to her clit, flicking back and forth at a rapid pace. She was definitely rolling her hips up and down on the bed and she was whimpering his name with mixes of ‘please’ and ‘oh my god’ intermittently. His lips closed around her knub once more and he sucked while flicking his tongue and shaking his head. She threw her head back on the bed and screamed in ecstasy. This had to be the most powerful orgasm of her entire life, and she was literally seeing stars. Her legs were violently quivering from the power and he rubbed them lightly as he continued to lick her through the entirety. When her legs stopped quivering, he removed his mouth and kissed his way back up to her, placing an opened mouth kiss to her lips when he was all the way back up. She tasted exquisite on his lips, he must’ve thought the same thing from the way he wiped her juices off with his fingers, only to lick them clean. Jesus Christ.

His hands moved to the hem of her shirt and she felt his erection probe her prominently on her thigh. As he was delicately easing her shirt up over her breasts, tucking it under her sling, she raised her thigh and presses sensually against his cock. He froze and a guttural moan escaped his mouth as he ground into her. Even from this angle, she could feel how impressive he was and her abdomen started tingling with the knowledge that it would be inside her soon.

Under normal circumstances, she’d want to fully repay him for that magnificent experience he just gave her, but her injury did give her enough hands for all she’d want to do to him. Maybe later. The knowledge that they had finally broached this step in their relationship brought an ecstatic smile to her face.

He kissed the upward curve of her lip before asking, “Care to share with the class?”

She kissed him sweetly and answered, “I was just thinking of all the things I’m going to do to you when I have full use of both hands. Then I was smiling because I can say ‘that I’m going to do’ no wishes or hypotheticals.”

The admittance she wanted more made a rivaling smile break out on his face. He leaned down and kissed her passionately, getting drunk off each other. When they had to break apart for air he panted, “I’ve wanted this for so long. I love you so much.”

She reached up and ran her hand through his messy hair, “I love you too.” If Mulder’s smile was now threatening to rip his face. “Let’s not wait any longer, we’ve waited long enough,” she whispered, thrusting her hips against him once more.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and he quickly removed his boxers, letting his massive boner spring free. She snaked a leg around him and pulled him closer. He looked down in between them as he grabbed himself, guiding the tip of his erection to her entrance. He rubbed it up and down her slit once to coat himself with her wetness. She moaned when his tip grazed against her still sensitive clit, which he immediately took note of. He tapped it lightly against her a few times making her exhale a shaky laugh, “Don’t tease me.”

He chuckled at her before guiding himself to where they both needed. He leaned down once more to kiss her as he eased into her. The kiss was short lived because they both gasped in pleasure. He felt incredible. It had been a while, so she was a little sore but he was being gentle and she was well lubricated from her prior orgasm. Mulder’s brow was furrowed and he was biting his lip as he went as deep as he could. When he was all the way in, he stopped and asked her in a strained voice, “Am I hurting you?”

She immediately shook her head, “No, but you’re torturing me. Please move.”

“So bossy,” he teased. Before she could respond, he pulled out and pushed back in, causing them both to moan. They’d waited years for this, and it was exceeding either of their wildest expectations. With her arm, their safest bet was missionary, but neither of them were complaining. For the first time, they were getting to see what one another looked like in the throes of desire.

Mulder set a steady pace and started thrusting into her unwaveringly. He moved his mouth down and captured a nipple between his lips. He didn’t slow down, which she thought would have made latching on hard, but it just added to her pleasure. The gyrations of his lips against her bouncing breasts made her eyes practically roll into the back of her head. Just like he had done with her clit, he started flicking his tongue back and forth against the peak. She felt every movement of his tongue in her clit, now having been made acquaintances, the sensations were not forgettable.

She started getting sweaty from rocking against him and he let go of her other nipple after spending some time with it, and he ran the flat of his tongue along the valley in between her breasts, lavishing in the salty skin. While the pace had been great for getting comfortable, her body started demanding more.

“Mu-ld-er?” she breathed, her voice coming out choppy between the thrusts.

“Yeah?” he asked, slowing down ever so slightly, making her body scream out in protest.

“Harder.” Apparently she couldn’t form a sentence anymore, internally laughing at the irony.

He bared his teeth in a predatory smirk, “Can do.” Ugh, fuck.

He placed his hands on either side of her head and he started thrusting faster and harder, making her cry out in appreciation. Her good arm moved so it was clutching onto his shoulder, through her haze she considered that she may be digging her nails into him, but he seemed a little preoccupied in this moment. He was growling animalistically and it made her abdomen tighten in desire.

Her breasts were bouncing almost pornographically from the shockwaves of his thrusts and he spent a good amount of time admiring them. After a moment, he leaned down and started lavishing her neck with affection once more. She knew she’d be covered in marks in the morning, but she frankly didn’t care about anything other than the man inside her right now. He bit down on her neck playfully and she groaned and let her head loll to the side, giving him better access. Her hand eased up his neck so it was ensnared in his hair. He lightly collapsed on her, but still kept his powerful thrusts, when she raked her fingernails against his scalp, causing him to moan into her skin.

This position made his pubic mound grind against her clit in the way she had been craving. She used her legs to lift her crotch off the bed, pressing harder against him. She gyrated her hips against his dick in a circular motion and his hands grasped her thighs to help her. After a moment of that, a blinding white heat shot through her and she spasmed against him, convulsing from her second orgasm. “Scully, you feel amazing,” he gritted out through clenched teeth as he continued to pleasure her through the orgasm, chivalrously delaying his own.

She wished she could have responded something sexy back to him, but all she was capable of right now was succumbing to pleasure while crying out his name and writhing on the bed, which seemed equally as effective to him. When she collapsed back on the bed, sated smile on her face, he eased one forearm under her neck for support as he rested the other forearm next to her on the bed. He started thrusting harder and faster than she imagined possible, and he had to cover the crown of her head with his hand to avoid it from colliding with the headboard. After a few more thrusts, his head burrowed into her neck and he cried out in rapture, buried deep in her as he finally released. She gyrated her hips against him the best she could to help him draw out his orgasm like he had helped her. He languidly pumped into her a few more times before he was spent. Collapsing lightly on her and placing sweet, gentle kisses to her neck, a complete reversal of the primal markings from a few moments ago.

When their breathing had evened out a bit, he slid out of her and moved so he was spooning her, leaving her touch for only a moment to pull the covers securely over them. She placed kisses against his jaw as he placed some to the sweaty tendrils of hair gathered at her temple.

They pulled back to look at each other and their expressions were pure contentment and happiness. They both were in almost disbelief that this had really happened, but the residual pleasure coursing through their bodies being evidence enough.

What once was just an intangible dream, a chimerical fantasy, continued to be their reality for years upon years of euphoria. Two people, simply, madly, and hopelessly in love.

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