Scully stood beside Mulder in the elevator on the journey up to his apartment. She kept glancing at him but he was not looking at her. His head was down, his eyes on the floor. He was bouncing his hands against his legs, as if he had too much pent up energy inside him and it could not be contained.
The elevator dinged and he nearly bolted out the doors. She followed behind him at a slower pace, the night weighing heavy upon her, like a lead vest. She smelled the pungent smell of smoke, on her clothes and in her hair, and she nearly gagged.
Everything in their office had burned. All the files, pictures, desk, chairs, everything. They had stood in the ruins of their office for longer than they should have been allowed. Scully believer Skinner had something to do with that and for that she had been grateful.
Mulder had tried to pick up an item, but she had stopped him. He looked at her with such anger and hurt, it had broken her heart. She kept attempting to get him to leave and finally he relented. Allowing her to pull him out of the office and then out of the building.
She brought him home, driving his car, walking upstairs with him to be sure he got inside without any incidents. He was standing at his door, waiting for her to unlock it, his keys in her coat pocket.
She caught up to him and again she smelled the smoke. She knew it was on them both, but she was aware of it more when she stood close to him. It seemed to ooze from his pores. A cancer trying to escape in anyway it could.
She opened the door and he pushed roughly past her on his way inside. She followed, dropping the keys on his dining room table. She watched him as he stood in the middle of living room, his hands on his hips, staring but unseeing.
She knew he did not want to talk, and she knew if she tried, she might cry. She closed her eyes and concentrated on not breaking down. Reassignment. Their fucking office burnt to hell. Reassignment. She could not stop the choking sob that escaped her. As she opened her eyes, she saw him spin around.
He stared at her and she felt in deep in her soul. Felt his eyes penetrating through her skin and tattooing his gaze onto her bones. She tried to stop any further ries, but they bubbled up again.
He took three steps and he pulled her to him in a crushing embrace. Her face was buried in his chest where the acrid smell of smoke overpowered the smell she knew to be Mulder's. She pushed him back, gagging on the smell.
He stared at her and he understood. He smelled his shirt and he met her eyes. He stepped toward her and bent his head to her neck. She held her breath as she felt him breathe deeply at her skin. She closed her eyes, willing her body to not respond to the nearness of him.
He pulled back and his hands replaced his face, pushing her coat to the floor. It fell in a heap around her feet, but she only noticed him. The way he seemed to be reading her thoughts. Wanting to be rid of the clothes and the smell that was choking her.
He reached for the top button on her shirt and her breath caught. He slipped it through the hole and her heart pounded. He moved onto the next one, then the next. He stared in her eyes the whole time. He slid the shirt off her shoulders and it joined her coat on the floor.
She was standing in front of him in her bra and her slacks. Her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nipples hard as she was sure he would see when he glanced down. She watched him look at her body, then travel back to her eyes. She knew he saw.
He placed his hands on the bottom of his own shirt and in a fluid motion, it was on the floor and he was bare chested in front of her. She could see his chest rising, his breathing ragged. She felt arousal and sadness crash into her like waves on a beach. Confusion and doubt pushing forward as well. Her brain screamed that this was not the right time to be doing this, but it was also exactly the right time to be doing it.
His hands grabbed at her waistband and pulled her closer to him. He unbuttoned her pants, sliding the zipper down as well. He slid his hands around to the back of her pants and pushed them off her hips, down her legs, and she kicked them off her body along with her heels.
She heard his breathing sped up as he put his hands on her hips and stroked his thumbs on her hip bones. His hand slid lower and grazed over the front of her panties. Her eyes slid shut and she whimpered.
He applied more pressure and she groaned. He had to be feeling the wet spot he had created. Oh, sweet Jesus. He found it. She pushed her hips into his hand and he moaned, his fingers sliding lower.
She grabbed at his jeans and opened the button and the zipper. She pushed his pants to a certain point and then he took over. He toed off his shoes and pushed his pants off. She could see he was aroused and she ached to touch him. He apparently had other plans.
He dropped to his knees and pushed her against the doorframe. He pulled her panties down and off. He placed her leg over his shoulder and his mouth on her pussy. She cried out and grabbed his head.
He drove his tongue into her and licked at her clit. He sucked it into his mouth and then flicked his tongue back and forth across it. She held onto his hair as he licked her firmly and then gently.
He slid a finger in and she yelped. She was so wet, she could hear his finger sliding in and out of her. He took his finger out of her and pulled his head back. She looked down at him and she could see her wetness on his face. She felt an increased amount of wetness pool inside her at the sight. Dear god...
He moved her leg off his shoulder and pulled her over to the couch. He pushed her down into a sitting position, and opened her legs. He looked at her as he knelt down and pulled her to the edge of the couch and begin to feast on her again.
She laid both legs over his shoulders, her fingers digging into his scalp, her feet on his back. He lapped at her, nibbled at her, then fucked her with his tongue. He was unrelenting. Slow, fast, fast, fast, slow. Then the opposite. He plunged two fingers into her and bit her clit.
She cried out his name as she ground her hips into his face and she came hard. She repeated his name like a chant as he continued thrusting his fingers inside her and sucked on her clit. She squeezed his head with her thighs and dug her nails into his head. He slowed his fingers and began kissing her pussy, softly and lovingly.
She relaxed her thighs and her legs opened of their own accord. He raised up off the floor and climbed up her body. She could smell herself on him and it almost removed the lingering smell of smoke.
He kissed her, her own taste on his lips. He demanded entrance to her mouth and she gladly gave it. His tongue stroked hers and her taste aroused her, making her even wetter. She felt as if she had never been so wet in her life.
He moved to her neck and sucked and lathed. His teeth bit at her and then his tongue soothed her. He pushed her onto her side, forcing her to scoot up the couch, her head where his was not so long ago. He kissed his way down her body.
Impatient and demanding, he pulled the cups of her bra down and immediately took a breast into his mouth. He sucked, licked, and bit her breast before he moved to the next one. He squeezed them together and moved from nipple to nipple, flicking them with his tongue.
He reached under her and opened her bra, sliding it down her arms, tossing it aside. He squeezed and held her breasts before moving down her body to her pussy again. He kissed her and she moaned. He licked her and then stood up.
He took off his boxers and climbed between her legs. He grabbed her hand and put it on his cock, letting her feel him. She stroked him, feeling the girth of him, the length. She rubbed the head and felt it leaking with precum. She used it to make stroking him easier.
He moaned as she stroked him and then lightly squeezed his balls. He hissed and put his hand over hers. Together, they brought his cock to her entrance and pushed him inside. They both moaned, their foreheads resting together.
She wrapped her legs higher, letting him know she was ready. He began to drive into her. Hard and fast. She dug her nails into his back, telling him without words what she wanted.
He grabbed onto the edge of the couch and started pounding into her. Her nails scratching, marking him as hers as she wrapped her legs tight around him. He breathed her name, his mouth by her ear. She cried his name back to him.
She felt another orgasm building and he began to go faster. They moaned and panted, their bodies slapping together at a pace she had never experienced. This was a coming together like nothing she would have imagined. Desperation, need, want, desire, trust, and love.
He thrust hard once more and cried her name as he came deep inside her. She followed and gripped his back and shoulders as she called his name. He kept slowly thrusting, spilling everything he had into her.
He fell hard on top of her, his weight pushing her further into the couch. His head was next to hers and she heard him sob. She moved her hands to his hair and she murmured soothing sounds in his ear. She began to cry too. Deep wracking sobs that shook her body.
He shifted until they were side by side, still connected. Hot, sweaty, and breathing hard, they cried together. Foreheads together, hands stroking across naked skin, they cried and whispered comfort to each other.
Mulder took the blanket from under their heads and tried his best to cover them without moving too much. It was not easy or the best job, but it was enough. She snuggled into his embrace, kissing his neck and tasting the salt of his skin. She could smell his smell now. The smoke was almost gone.
He kissed her temple. His hands on her hips pulled her closer. She could feel him flaccid now inside her, but still there. She wanted to never leave this cocoon they had created. This place where no one could hurt them, where they were all they needed.
She pulled her leg tighter over his, her arms around his back, as flush against him as she could get.
"No matter what happens, Scully. You are mine. And I am yours," he whispered into her hair.
"No matter what," she whispered back.
Wrapped in his arms and the warmth of the blanket, she let his scent and the afterglow of sex soothe her like a balm. A fire may have burned their office, their files, their work, but the spark it had lit would not be extinguished.
Those fuckers had no idea what they just stoked. The kindling they laid. The fire that would engulf the one they started. They would rise stronger and more powerful. A phoenix crawling, sputtering, and then standing tall. Born from fire to burn those who tried to kill it. They would rise from the ashes and they would fight.
No matter what.