The turning tide, by chibiness87
Rating: E. It's smut, people.
Season/Spoilers: Post-ep for 7.04 Millennium
Disclaimer: not mine.
Summary: Start the New Year as you mean to go on. Isn't that what the old wives tale says? Well, if this is any indication, his year is going to be great.
"The world didn't end," he says.
"No, it didn't."
They both know they're not talking about the Millennium.
She takes him home. Against medical advice, but the staff at the hospital conceded when he becomes a bit too vocal, and she becomes a bit too insistent that she is a medical doctor, (never mind most of her patients are either dead or different and quite often both,) so they let him go with instructions to return immediately if he gets any symptoms.
He wants to ask if that includes a sudden craving for brains, but a sharp look from Scully puts paid to that decision before the words can escape.
She's always been good at that; talking with her eyes instead of her mouth. They have had some of their most important conversations without saying a word.
He follows her up to his apartment, smiling to himself when she lets them in with her key. Time was, he would never have trusted anyone with partial access to any part of his life, never mind full access to all of it, and then she opened the door to his office all those years ago and he was gone.
Lost.
In his weaker moments, he wonders when she fell in love with him.
Because she does.
Of course she does.
If there was any doubt in his mind before, they had been erased by that kiss they had shared earlier. It beats the one he remembers in his mind with a different Scully hands down, and not just because he came away with this one without a bruise to his cheek, but because this one was real to both of them.
Scully has placed the bag of goodies (drugs and gauze) on his coffee table, and is now wringing her hands in front of her, like they have lost their purpose now they are not being used to carry anything. He steps towards her, pleased when she keeps her ground, tilting her head back slightly to see him.
"How you feeling, Mulder?"
"I'm good." And then, because it is her and they have known each other for so long and he can, he adds, "No urge to eat your brain."
She smiles, the small one of exasperation he likes to think as fondness. Tilting her head to the door, she gives a small sigh. "I should go."
"You could stay." The offer is out before his brain has had a chance to consult with his heart, but right now the heart is running the show. "If you want," he adds, suddenly shy.
But Scully is already shaking her head. "No, it's okay. Get some rest, Mulder."
"Okay." He gives her his own version of the smile that belongs solely between them, moving to follow her to the door.
"I'll call you tomorrow, see how you are."
"It's already tomorrow, Scully." He doesn't quite know why he says that, either.
"Later then." Scully nods. "I'll call you later."
"Okay. Later." He bends down, intending to lean round to open the door, lips poised to kiss her cheek in parting, only she has turned too, and their hands meet on the doorknob, and the kiss intended for her cheeks meets her lips.
He pulls back quickly. "Sorry."
"Are you?"
He watches as her eyes widen, almost like she can't quite believe she went there, and in truth, neither can he.
Because they don't talk about it.
They never talk about it.
The intrinsic dance they have been performing for years, weaving close and then apart, neither one of them willing to take that final step when an easier path is open.
She is still standing there, breathing his air, their bodies so close and fingers entwined on his doorknob. He can feel the faint tremor in her hand, and it is this that finally pushes him over the edge.
Her name is caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl, and then he has her turned around, pressed against the wood of his door, lips and teeth and tongue mapping, nipping, marking her.
Maybe he's becoming a zombie after all.
But she gives as good as she gets, parrying his advances with moves of her own, and they manages to twist and turn themselves away from the door to his couch. The leather creaks slightly in protest as their combined weight falls in tandem, but he is too far gone to care, or to think about moving the 20 feet or so to his bed.
A slight shift, and then she is straddling him, mouths still fused, her hands sliding over his chest, his one free hand moulded to her back, keeping her tight against him. One of her hands catches on the edge of his sling, and he has to break the connection to let out a hiss at the sudden flare of pain.
"Sorry," she gasps, trying to pull back, but he won't let her go, can't let her go, and instead shakes his head, pulling her closer. Tilting his head, he traces down the tendons in her neck with small nips, making her gasp in a whole different way. He feels her hands fumbling with his sling again, and while part of him knows if he stops and lets her see what she's doing the task will be completed that much sooner, a larger part, the part in control of his mouth, can't bear to let her go.
He feels her weight shift in his lap, the contact of her crotch against his hard-and-getting-harder-by-the-minute cock eliciting a deep moan, and he can feel her grin against his head. She shifts again, and this time he knows it's deliberate, but he still can't hold back a groan. "Not fair."
"I'm plenty fair," she gasps, and the breathless quality to her voice sends yet more blood southward. She presses hard against him, her nails setting his nerve endings on fire wherever she touches, and he has to let lean back to gasp in air as she trails a path of fire down his chest.
Faced with the sudden room, she wastes no time whatsoever in reaching for the clasp in his sling, easing it off and away, her lip caught in her teeth in concentration all the while. "Scully," he wheezes, gently testing the range of movement in his injured shoulder. There is a slight twinge, but nowhere near enough to ask her to stop this whirlwind they are caught up in.
"Careful."
He nods, gently bringing both arms around her to hold her against him now, and she grins at him in response. "Hi."
"Hi." He smiles, soft and serene, bending slightly to take her lips in an altogether more gentle kiss than any they have shared so far this evening.
It doesn't take long for the passion between them to rise again though, and when her tongue traces over the seam of his lips, looking for entry, he is lost. Pain in his shoulder forgotten, there is only this. Fingers tangling with hers, they make short work of the clothing that is in the way of the good stuff underneath, and then it's all wet and slick and hot on his fingers, his cock, and then he's inside her.
He freezes, sensations catching up to him, eyes wide and searching for hers. Her eyes are closed, lip caught between her teeth once more, and he's terrified they have just made the biggest mistake ever, when she opens her eyes, and smiles, a look of pure wonder on her face.
"Okay?" He has to ask, has to, because as much as he wants this, as good as it feels, he needs them to be on the same page here.
Scully nods, shifting ever so slightly, but enough to make him sink a little deeper in her, and they both groan. "Fuck."
He can feel her inner muscles flutter around him, and he gives a tentative thrust. Scully moans above him, her eyes turning a shade of blue he has never seen before, but if he has anything to say about the matter they are going to stay that way forever. He gives another slight thrust, barely moving on the seat of his couch, but each movement sends him closer and closer to a cliff edge.
Finding and matching his rhythm, she starts rocking above him, raising herself up on her strong thighs, before lowering herself again, adding to his slight back and forth. The euphoria is building, and she even gives him a small laugh of delight, before a particular deep thrust makes her head fall back on her shoulders, a whimper on her lips. Snaking his good arm behind her back, he tugs her closer to him again on his next thrust, her chest brushing against his chest hair, and her eyes fly open.
"Good?"
She opens her mouth to respond, but he continues with this new angle they have found, and a gasp is all he gets in response, before she nods at him. "Don't stop."
She starts rocking a little faster, spreading her legs against him a little further, and he grunts when he feels her ripple around his cock again. "Are you close?" It feels like she is, but he's not risking finishing without her, first time or not.
But his fears are alleviated, when she nods quickly, one hand snaking down between them. He watches with hooded eyes as she circles her clit in counterpoint to his movement, her fingers brushing against him as he continues to move within her. "Fuck, Scully…"
Almost without his permission, the hand of his good arm sweeps down, pushing her hand away. She shoots him a glare, disbelief written across her face, only to dissolve into relief when he takes up the same rhythm she was using. "Like this?"
She nods quickly, grinding against his fingers and cock, her hands trailing up and over her chest in constant movement, tugging slightly on her nipples. He bends his head, keeping the pace of both cock and hand, but adding his teeth into the mix on her other breast, and that is finally enough to send her over the edge.
He hears her cry out something that might have been his name, but he is too lost in the sensation of her inner muscles rippling around him incessantly, desperately holding on. She relaxes against him, drawing his hand away from her clit with a soft moan, before she meets his gaze. Her eyes are luminous, and he feels his cock jump in response.
Before he can apologise, she moves, squeezing him within her. "Scully…" Her name is gasped out through gritted teeth, the most he is capable of, sweat beading on his brow in the effort to continue to hold back until he is sure she has recovered.
Scully shift against him again, leaning up to whisper in his ear. "Let go."
Gasping against the skin of her neck, he manages to breathe, "You sure?"
She begins rocking again, quicker than before. Still keeping her head pressed against his, he more feels than see her nod. "Yeah. Come for me."
Permission granted, he thrusts in earnest, hands on her hips guiding her, and then it's too wet and too slick and too hot, and he comes with a shout, pulsing deep into her, bathing her walls. She lets out another moan, and he feels a surge of masculine pride when he realises she's tumbled over the edge again.
Panting against each other, it takes a while for their bodies to cool, for the chill of the room to become unbearable. Scully slips from his lap, a groan escaping her lips, and his eyes flash to hers in concern. "You ok?"
"Next time, we're doing that in a bed," she says, as she flexes her legs.
He feels his cock jump a little at that, like he hasn't come less than fifteen minutes ago.
Next time, he likes the sound of that.
Getting up, he tugs her behind him, almost eagerly, heading towards his bedroom. "What, you looking to get lucky again, Mulder?"
He pauses in the doorway, head tilted down to her, serious suddenly. "You're still here," he says. "I think that's plenty lucky enough."
Scully ducks her head, but he can still hear the smile in her voice when she sighs. "Mulder…"
He bends slightly to press a kiss to her cheek. "C'mon, G-woman. I hear a shower calling your name." He winks at her. "I'll even help to wash your back."
She smiles at him, light and carefree, and god, this might just be the best thing to ever happen to him in his life. "In your dreams, bucko."
"Oh, Scully. You have no idea."
"Don't I?" she asks, a glint in her eye, a glint he put there, even as she closes the door in his face.
Scratch might be. This is definitely the best thing to ever happen to him in his life. (As if there was any doubt.)
This, he thinks, this is going to be a great year.
End
Thoughts?