TITLE: A Bouquet for Seven
RATING: Explicit. Absolutely so. Also, non-vanilla sex. Because you know, Hollywood.
KEYWORDS: MSR, familyfic, AU
SPOILERS: You need to be updated in the Spunk vocabulary to be able to enjoy this.
SUMMARY: How did the Mulders handle finding out about their seventh child?
DISCLAIMER: Chris Carter came up with their names. I came up with their children. All eight of them. So there.
A/N: This is for all you readers of Spunk, from back in the day up to the present. Hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! And yes, bring the smut on!
Los Angeles, California
18 February 2000
Friday
Dana Katherine Scully woke up with a gasp that echoed in her ears. She felt like a truck had run over her. Her hand swept through the cold sweat dotting her forehead and it took a while before her eyes could focus on her surroundings. Finally, she could make out the white ceiling. The posters of the bed she was in … a single name tore through her synapses … she reached over at her bedside.
Empty. And cold.
She sat up so abruptly it made her head spin. Rather than lying back down, she pushed herself until her back felt the bed rest and gently laid her head on the familiar curve.
"Mum?" a voice across her whispered. Scully placed a hand over her forehead and opened one eye to take a peek at a light brown-haired boy with green eyes, who was watching her curiously from the foot of the bed. Before she could answer, she trailed her open eye around the room and assured herself that she was at home in the Mulder Manor. She was safe, fine, and needed, apparently, by the shy twelve-year-old who was waiting for her to respond.
"Hello, John, good morning," she opened her arms and her son climbed on the bed and hurled himself into her arms. It jolted her still frazzled brain, but she was happy with his show of affection. It wasn't everyday that their quiet John came into the master's bedroom in the early morning to ask for a hug, or gladly receive one.
"Yes, my love?" she asked as he buried his face into her neck. Scully sighed, held her tongue from asking about the other children (especially the teenagers who learned to drive their own cars just a few months ago), and enjoyed the feel of her soon-to-be-teenage son in her arms. Sure, she still had two young ones to do some growing up – Bill and Donna – but it was nice to still feel needed by the teens, as she and her husband termed their eldest kids nowadays.
As for her husband …
"Mum, is Daddy coming home today?" John inquired, in that same I-know-it-but-I-want-to-make-sure tone that Scully liked. He was smart, this John, but very insecure of his abilities. He loved spending time in front of the computer most of all, and Mulder told her to let him be since it seemed to be their son's calling. He had developed amazing designs for her and her husband's official websites and he was happy doing these for no additional treats.
"Hmm … yes, yes, my love. He's coming home today. Didn't we just talk with him last night?" she assured him, remembering the phone call and the ache she felt in her bosom when she placed an x on the calendar to signal that he had been away for almost two months since he began shooting his latest movie in Canada. They've been there a couple of times to visit him, but it still was different to have him in their bed every single night so that they could laze around for a couple of hours before the children all woke up. She especially missed the mornings they woke up before dawn and still half-asleep, would make love without any inhibitions.
Plus, the past month, she couldn't leave LA. She had TV spots here and there for her latest movie that was coming out in summer. This was a rarity for their schedule to not be in agreement, and it couldn't be helped. Usually, when Mulder was away shooting, Scully and some of the children always came with him. It was also true for her – Mulder would make sure that he had no projects when she had one so he could take the kids with him and stay with her. Yet, pushbacks and delays with her latest movie made their tight schedule nearly inflexible, so they both had to deal. They hadn't been married for almost fifteen years for nothing.
Actually, she had been stressed by everything that was going on that even her body had responded dreadfully: she felt bloated and her joints ached at times. Jesus, she needed to see a doctor soon – something she regretted to inform her husband last night.
When John sighed a sound of relief into the side of her neck, she had a time check with the bedside table: whoops, eight o'clock in the morning. Had to keep moving.
"Love, we have to go. You're going to be picked up soon by the chauffer for school. Are William, Maggie, and Missy ready?" She patted him on the back and started moving out of the bed. John held onto her for one last time before breaking away to scratch on his buzz-cut head.
"I heard you this morning, Mum. You were crying out in your sleep."
"Oh," she replied, wracking her brain to remember her dream last night. Did she have a nightmare? Goodness, it had been so long since the last one … the last one was when she was pregnant with Donna …
A shiver ran through her spine. No, I can't be pregnant, she assured herself, I'm on the pill. I'm fine.
Evil Dana perched on her other shoulder to bitterly laugh at that. Yeah, Evil Dana chided, How well did that work out the first time, remember? Paris? William?
She suddenly had the urge to check her calendar, but was pulled on by John. "C'mon, Mum. Let's have breakfast. Jenny's been cooking pancakes!" She glanced at her boy on the bed and couldn't help but return his smile.
"Okay, love." Scully snatched her robe from her dresser, where she tossed it last night, and shrugged it on.
Donna was on her lap – a shy, conservative four-year-old that was the complete opposite of her heroine, Missy. The latter was up in Jenny's face, as usual, asking about how the pancakes got so fluffy. Their longtime help was fond of the teenager, so she patiently answered everything Missy asked with a barely restrained grin. From Scully's lap, Donna stared at her elder sister with an eagerness that her mother only saw in her when they go to the beach or the toy store.
William, who was turning sixteen in a few months and seated beside her, was impeccably handsome. If it wasn't for his dark red hair, he would be a carbon copy of his father during the latter's younger years in Harvard: smoldering hazel eyes, olive skin, wide shoulders, a lopsided grin, and a penchant for making the women laugh. He was also a sensitive young man who was inclined to the arts – as she was – and had plans of getting into Julliard after high school. People often wondered how she still maintained her figure despite giving birth six times (of course, no one took in consideration how she and her husband had planned this family; the only real surprise was John, who came ten months after Missy!), but it really was with the help of William. The boy practiced his dancing so often and she was the usual partner in the same old basement that she used to dance in way, way before. When he got into Yoga, Scully joined him too and soon, they had Yoga weekends together.
William had an indescribable bond with his smart sister, Margaret, but was especially fond of little Bill. Maybe it was the shock of red hair and the huge dimples on the sides of the little one's cheeks that William found so endearing, but he was patient with him like no other. That morning was no exception, since Will had taken it upon himself to help Bill with breakfast. Her young man cut up the food of his younger brother so that Bill could feed himself.
John stood up to ask for more pancakes from Missy. Seated beside her, Margaret stopped chatting with William and directed her attention to Scully. "Mum, who's driving you to meet up with Emily?" she inquired, sipping her orange juice.
Scully snapped out of her reverie, and handed Donna a piece of pancake with a strawberry on top. "I can drive myself, dear. Thank you for asking." She sighed heavily; her body wasn't still cooperating despite drinking some coffee.
"You seem buggered, Mum," Will observed, placing an arm around Bill's chair as the young boy pretended that his next pancake was Superman incarnate. "I can drive you to see Emily; I'm sure I can talk my teacher into letting me in late."
The old Mulder charm strikes again, Scully ruefully concluded, making her snicker in private. "Goodness, don't do that, William. How about this instead – I'll wait for the chauffer to take me to Formosa. We're meeting there for lunch. You can pick me up to go to the airport." Donna started toying with a stray strawberry. Scully halted her hand and in reply, the toddler cried, "No! Stwawbewwy!"
"Do you want to come to the airport, Margaret?" The teenager nodded; Missy jumped right in: "Me too! I want to see Daddy!"
"John?"
The shy one shrugged. "Sure." Bill suddenly raised his hands up in protest: "I want to come! I want to see Daddy!"
"You see Daddy after your painting classes, Bill … and you, Donna, see Daddy after your ballet," Scully reminded them. The kids' nanny, Loverne, came into the room, bringing milk for the two younger ones.
"Verne, could you be a dear and hand me my pill case?" Scully pointed to her bag on top of the living room coffee table.
"Okay, Ms. Dana," Loverene replied in her sweet old way. She was a recommendation from Teena a few years ago, a housewife recently widowed in Massachusetts who wanted some distraction, and when the toddlers came, she was the perfect addition to their household help.
Once the pillbox was in her hands, Missy raised a perfect-Scully eyebrow. "What are those for, Mum?" she asked in a singsong refrain.
"Vitamins, Missy." She tacked down a couple on her palm, raised it so that Donna couldn't reach it, and quickly dry swallowed them. She remembered she still had OJ so she drank some to ease the pain in her throat. "I haven't been feeling up and up lately."
"I noticed," Will said conspiratorially, making quick glances at the teens. "Mum … as the eldest …"
Fuck, she panicked, here it comes.
"It is my job to ask you – are you pregnant?" Then, after a heartbeat, "Again?"
"I don't think so," she answered too quickly. Guiltily. Not that Mulder and her didn't want another baby … it just wasn't part of the plan as of the moment. Actually, they've never talked about having another baby for years. Did her husband want another child? Did she?
"Okay, if you say so," Missy happily chirped, bumping against Jenny with her shoulder on the kitchen counter. The cook only had a mysterious smirk on her face.
"I'm just too tired," Scully supplied, as if it didn't make her sound guilty enough again.
"We can see that," Margaret agreed, slipping into a soft British accent she had borrowed from her Mum. "That's why you don't drive, and we pick you up for the airport."
"Okay … umm, use the black Ford, William. Dad's car. Paparazzi's crazy in the airport," she reminded her son. William nodded, scanned her face for the last time, and went back to feeding Bill.
What made her laugh so loud upon seeing Emily for the first time in months were the tired eye bags they were both sharing. Even concealer couldn't hide these from each other.
"Dana!" Emily greeted as they leaned in to give each other kisses on the cheeks. Their waiter ushered them into a private booth, but not before Scully caught an old black and white photograph of her and her husband atop the bar. It was for a photo shoot they did after she gave birth and was prepping for their wedding. Beside it was a photo of Frank Sinatra.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?" She smoothened her denim skirt as she sat down. "You've been so busy your Dad complains to me that he hasn't seen you in forever!"
"Ah, that's his old age speaking," Emily giggled, reaching for the menu. "It's so hard to work around the twins. They're turning three so the terrible years are about to start … you know how it is. You've had enough of your own." They both laughed before placing their orders.
"I wonder why you like it so much here," Scully commented, gesturing to her photograph with a sneer. "It's so Hollywood-ish."
"Well, it's 'meta,' you know?" She made air quotation marks. "It's so Hollywood not even the paparazzi would think of snapping us here."
"Maybe." Scully sat down on the red leather couch and rubbed her neck. "Gosh, I'm so tired. All these guest appearances and TV spots are sucking the life out of me, literally." She giggled. "And the kids … they think I'm pregnant."
Emily's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you?" The tone suggested that she wouldn't be surprised if Scully was again. Emily had lived with them for a while when she went through a rough patch with Jeffrey, her husband. It was only later on, when she had moved out and was pregnant with her own twins, that she admitted to Scully that she had to go buy herself ear plugs because she could hear them making love all through the night. An embarrassing admission, yes, but most probably true. Mulder had major repairs in the Manor after that - to thicken the walls in particular.
"I don't think so." Scully paused when the waiter brought them their California rolls for appetizers. "No, I'm not."
"The press will have a field day."
"I know, I know," Scully replied, taking a sip of her iced tea. "They think every child Mulder and I ever had were surprises – like dropped by the stork out of nowhere. They never think for a second that every single one was planned; well, except for William and John. And your father and I … we don't have current plans to have another one."
"Will it be so terrible if there's another one?"
"No, of course not," Scully quickly mended, and it spread a warmth all throughout her chest. Another baby – imagine that. She could remember giving birth to each one of her children like it was yesterday: William's pink face and the wonder she had because he was actually alive … that she was able to carry him to term and there he was, beautiful and healthy. Margaret had been from their eagerness and excitement to have another one; waking up in the hospital to see her in her father's arms was the best feeling in the world. Then, Missy whom she carried while she was shooting a movie, to Mulder's chagrin. She came unexpectedly while doing reshoots in France (to Mulder's rage!) and so became half-French, in that sense. Ten months later, there was John … an all-American boy that Mulder doted on. Four kids in, and he said he didn't want to take in any more movies for the time being. It was a blissful seven years until they decided they want another one, or two – so came Bill and Donna. Bill who cried like insane when he was born, and Donna, who Mulder and her decided should be born in Wales. It was her first return to the other side of the pond since her visit there many, many years ago. It was a necessary reunion; the Scullys met her own family and the Mansion did not scare her anymore. She even gave birth in a hospital there that was not far from where she delivered her stillborn. Yet, she was fine and she even loved the experience.
"Jeff and I think we're done with the twins; they're a freaking handful!" Emily giggled, biting into her roll.
"Don't rule it out, Em. Who knows? YOU might be the one pregnant!"
"I take my pills diligently, unlike you, Dana!"
"I take my pills regularly, too!" she defended herself, feeling her cheeks burn. Fine, she was infamous for forgetting to take her pills at times, but hey, she had a terrible memory when it came to things like that.
"You should belly up and get an assistant, just like Dad with Marita Krycek, Dana. Marita can't do the thinking for both of you."
"I'm not getting one; I'm managing well."
"Yes, says the woman who has enough concealer under her eyes for the rest of her body!"
"You're insane, Emily." Their orders came and they dug into their food. "Just like your father," she continued after a mouthful.
"That's why you like me so much, eh?"
"Maybe," Scully replied with a snort.
The wait in the airport's VIP lounge was quite intense – an energy she's familiar with whenever they waited for one family member to come home from a long trip. William was insistent that she shouldn't wear stilettos for that day because she was too tired and was aghast when he picked her up only to see that she was wearing stilettos, anyway. So he cold-shouldered her for the rest of the wait, only barking at Margaret (who was used to her brother's overprotectiveness; besides, she was busy reading a medical book) to talk to her. Meanwhile, John silently listened to his MP3 player while Missy picked up the latest entertainment magazine in the lounge's selection. She was the only Mulder who was interested in the latest Hollywood tidbits.
When her husband's flight number was announced, Scully stood up and heard her children follow her. Pretty soon, a throng of people emerged from the tube, until she spotted him in the crowd, flanked by Marita and Byers. She probably was smiling goofily when their eyes connected, because he certainly was too, but she didn't care. All she cared about was seeing his fluffy brown hair that he had apparently grown out – it was a lot longer than she's used to and it fit his face so well, with brown bangs hanging at the sides of his eyes. His pronounced nose sniffed the Californian air, and he chewed on his thick lower lip upon seeing her. There was a flash of hunger in his eyes that was like an arrow straight to her groin, but it quickly disappeared when he spotted the teens behind her.
Nearing his family, he waved a hand at the children. "Wait, you guys know that the first hug is reserved for your Mum," he opened his arms to her, "Come here now, cheri, what are you waiting for?" he kidded.
Scully breathed out, an unnamed heaviness leaving her chest, and did step into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight, burying her face into his polo shirt that had a whiff of that peculiar airline scent, his usual cologne, and that musky Mulder smell that she missed so much. Mulder squeezed her hard against him, murmuring loving things in her ear, kissing her hair and devouring her own scent himself. They had a few more seconds like this until the teens couldn't help themselves and joined in on the hug. Soon, they all broke apart so that they could also hug Marita and Uncle Byers.
Scully kissed Byers on the cheeks, "Did you do a good job caring for my husband, Byers?" she inquired, patting their friend on his shoulders.
"He was a fucking saint, Dana," Byers replied, then leaned in, "I think he was actually taking care of me. I got so drunk on the last day of shooting that he drove me back to my hotel room. He didn't even touch a glass of wine! That bastard."
"He knows he's not allowed," Scully explained, relieved at the fact that Mulder didn't indulge in alcohol while she's not around. He wasn't getting any younger and though he didn't physically appear fifty-five, the doctor had warned him that drinking too much could harm his heart. A glass of red wine a day was all he could do.
When she turned around, William grabbed his father's suitcase while Margaret took his coat and wore it. Mulder had an arm around Missy and reached over to clasp his hand with hers. They started walking out of the airport, and in the exit, the photographers were already snapping pictures.
Instinctively, Scully reached into her purse and put on her sunglasses. She also had the presence of mind to push down John's baseball cap to shield his eyes from the photogs, afterwards placing an arm around her son. Mulder grabbed his own sunglasses from his breast pocket. He leaned into her, "How are you doing, darling? Will sent me a text message last night telling me you're always tired."
"Oh, the usual. You know how crazy my schedule is lately. This is my first free day in a week."
"I want your weekend, Scully," he growled in her ear, making her nipples push painfully against her crisp white shirt. Thank you Jesus, because she was wearing a thick coat over her clothes and those damn photogs wouldn't see a thing. She leaned over, until she could reach his ear, and whispered back, "I want your weekend too, Mr. Mulder," before placing a kiss on the back of his earlobe – a sensitive spot. Mulder visibly shuddered.
Soon, they were in front of a row of photographers. Byers and Marita immediately took to the sides to shield the family and to give them leeway to pass through.
"Didn't CGB ask you to get bodyguards, Dad?" Margaret wondered out loud, as she shielded her face from a flash. Mulder rolled his eyes.
"I know, honey. I'll look into it." In Scully's ear, he continued, "They're getting more and more aggressive every year, aren't they?"
She opened her mouth to reply, before a paparazzi shouted in her direction: "Dana, Dana! Are you happy to see your husband after a month of separation?"
What she learned over the years of being in the spotlight was that if you were kind to the paparazzi, they were kinder to you, too. So she answered, "Of course!"
"How do you feel about the reviews for your movie, A Song of War? They said you'll get nominated for an Oscar!"
She only bowed her head down, watched her step, and moved closer to her husband.
"Mulder! Mulder! How does it feel to be back with your wife again?"
"Terrible! I want to leave!" Mulder shouted, and she threw her head back to laugh. The press was used to his dry sense of humor, but sometimes, new paparazzi people took it the wrong way.
Finally, they reached their car. Marita was picked up by her husband, to whom Mulder gave a curt nod to, while Byers was picked up by his new girlfriend. William was behind the wheel again, with Scully on the passenger's seat and Mulder at the back with John, Missy, and Margaret all around him, hugging him tight. A few paparazzi people shouted, "Your kids are growing up quite fine, Mr. and Mrs. Mulder!" before William honked loudly at them so that they'd move away. When they cleared enough for them to pass through, William drove out of the airport and soon, into the freeway.
"So, what's new with all of you?" Mulder demanded in jest, as if he didn't talk to them just last night. He kissed the top of the girls' heads before mock-punching John in the stomach. The boy snickered at his father.
"Oh, nothing, Dad!" Margaret answered, leaning into her father so she could give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. Scully watched the scene behind her in the rearview mirror of the car and she was struck at how much she loved seeing him with their children. Fifteen years in and it hadn't changed – how much at awe she was with her love for them, how much he reveled in having so many around him. He was living the dream his father had wanted for him and she was more than happy to have been the one to give this all to him.
"Other than we think Mummy's pregnant!"
"WHAT?" Mulder almost choked on his own saliva. With this, Scully deeply sighed and rolled her eyes. That was the unmistakable tone of Missy, the chatterbox. She should've debriefed her daughter before their father arrived.
"It's not true, Mulder," she insisted, suddenly feeling tired again.
"She may be," Missy insisted back, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial timbre.
"I'm not, young lady; don't assume you know my body better than myself."
"Would you want another kid, Dad?" It was John this time, and as Scully expected, a curious hush came over the rest of them. It was rare for John to talk and when he did, everyone in the family made sure they listened.
"As long as your Mum wants another one." Mulder smiled at her through the rearview; she studied his eyes for a moment until she was convinced that he indeed was telling the truth.
William pressed down his window as they neared their gated community, but before he gave them their last name, he made sure his two cents were known about the pregnancy hullaballoo: "As long as Mum CAN handle another one," he interjected, and before anyone could protest, he said "Mulder!" into the intercom.
Mulder shut the door behind him as he entered their bedroom.
"Jesus Christ, Donna and Bill sure got their energy from you, not me."
Scully was crouched down in the walk-in closet, carefully arranging Mulder's clothes from his luggage. She was segregating the clean ones from those that she thought could use a trip to the laundry; of course, a bit of control was exercised because she seriously wanted to dump all of it into the laundry chute.
Digging into the luggage, she happened upon a plastic bag that had something soft in it. "Mulder, what's this?" she shouted from the closet. He quickly shuffled in, removing his t-shirt and tossing it into the chute. Scully grabbed it to fold it in a neat square, then returned it to the laundry bag.
"You think I only brought goodies for the kids? Open it. That's yours, Mrs. Mulder."
Scully hiked up her skirt a bit and sat down Indian-style on the floor before opening the plastic. From the door of the walk-in, Mulder watched her, one hand on the door's frame and another on his hip. She borrowed a moment to watch his flat stomach – god, he still looked good after all these years – and finally ripped the package open.
What she saw inside made her tear up, annoyingly so.
"Damn, Mulder," she protested, lifting the gift up in the light, "our anniversary isn't for another few months."
Mulder crouched down behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pressing a kiss at the side of her forehead. "I want it to be our anniversary every single month, Scully, is that so terrible?"
She touched the petals of the artificial yellow calla lily bouquet in her hands, marveling at how similar it looked to the bouquet she carried with her during their wedding. It even had the same color of ribbon wrapped around its stem. Soon, tears were falling down her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily, not knowing why she was crying like hell. Mulder had a penchant for surprising and spoiling her, especially after being gone for a long time, but man, she never reacted this way.
"Tears, darling?" he breathed into her ear, "why so?"
"Because you can be a bloody sentimental fool when you want to be!" she kidded, turning around so she can press her lips soundly on his. Before she could return to her task, Mulder held her head there with a hand to her cheek and kissed her again – lightly at first, like dipping into uncharted waters; then he licked her lips, once, twice, thrice, and prodded her with his tongue until she opened up and allowed him access to her depths.
She shook hard from the first taste of him since at least three weeks ago, his distinct flavor assaulting her senses in a way that excited her to her core. The hands on her shoulders transferred down to her neck, tenderly brushing against the pulse that fluttered beneath her throat, then down to the slope of her shirt, to the spot where her breasts met.
The wetness that rushed through her canal shocked her; how did she get so horny, this fast? Mulder did mention something about her sexuality peaking at her age, but damn … she was about ready to start humping his leg.
Skillfully, her husband loosened her grip on the bouquet and brushed his luggage away until it hit the wall. Without breaking their kiss, Scully laid down on the carpet of the closet, pulling her skirt up so that she could accommodate his hard body in between her legs and cursed the tightness of her skirt around her thighs because she couldn't further push it up. Mulder murmured against her lips, placing his elbows at the sides of her head and thrusting his erection against her soaking wet lace panties. She responded with a moan so loud she had to break the kiss.
"Mrs. Mulder," he cried out in mock surprise, tasting the flesh below her cross necklace, "you must've missed me." His fingers quickly found the edges of her lace and, without warning, he dipped two inside the wet triangle between her legs. She hissed and he groaned. "Fuck, you're so wet, Scully. I've dreamt of making love to you since the day you left Canada. All I want to do is to bury myself in you and never let go."
"No," she said through her lust-induced hazed. Her voice sounded like it came from the other end of the room. "No …" she repeated, just to make sure that it was indeed her voice.
"What?" Mulder moved his fingers around her cunt and it felt so good, so damn good, that her muscles began to involuntarily clench around him. Mulder moaned again, and she could feel him rubbing his erection, through his jeans, on the carpet against her leg.
"No … don't make love to me."
"What do you mean?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice, but unable to stop himself from pulling down her shirt (a button popped but who cared) and her bra so that a nipple could peek out. It hardened under his gaze, and as if he would die if couldn't taste her skin, he dipped his tongue onto her flesh slowly, then hungrily until soon he was trying to get as much of her breast in his mouth.
It was electric. Scully writhed beneath him, his mouth on her breast and his fingers in her cunt, wanting to both push him away and pull him closer until they were but one molecule making love … no, not making love …
"Fuck me, Mulder," she shouted, biting her lip. That distracted him for a second, because he lifted his mouth from her nipple and made sure they stared at each other. There it was, Scully noticed, his hazel eyes turning as black as the midnight sky. "Fuck me," she repeated slowly, making sure he got what she wanted, no needed, "take me. Anyway you want me. I want it rough tonight."
He knew what she was talking about.
There were moments for sweet lovemaking; moments for frenzied ones, and even quickies. She could have Mulder anyway she wanted, anytime they could. But the past few years had been good for their sex life, because they've experimented more than before. And there was one activity he really enjoyed and she had gotten to like, too. Actually, she liked it way, way too much.
Plus, she was so horny that night; she felt that her whole body was a rash that no one but Mulder could scratch and heal.
Her husband gave a small nod and devoured her mouth once more. "I love you to the ends of this fucking planet," he whispered desperately against her lips. While he was distracted with her tongue and her inner muscles, she loosened his belt, opened his fly and began to kick off his jeans with her feet. The fingers in her thrust rhythmically, deliciously, until it hit her g-spot and she cried out from their kiss. His jeans were probably bunched around his knees but she didn't care, because his boxers were thin and oh goodness, she could feel his cock on her knee and she wanted to take it in.
Hands free now, Scully raked her fingernails on Mulder's bare back, spreading gooseflesh everywhere, and directed him once more to her mouth with a push at the back of his head. He was about to plunge his tongue back into her when she caught it mid-air and sucked on it slowly, achingly, the same way she would when she was eating his cock.
That drove him wild.
With a heave, Mulder pushed himself off her and divested himself of his clothing with annoyance. He stared at her on the floor - one breast out of her shirt, legs spread open and panties askew, watching him as he watched her – as he slid down his boxers. His thick erection bobbed in the air, red and straining towards her, and she knew that he was so hard it was throbbing.
"You're making me crazy tonight, Mrs. Mulder," he panted, running his hands on his cock. "I'm so hard it hurts, you see?" To demonstrate, he cupped his balls first, then ran his hand on his length. He jerked at the contact, eyes still on her. "I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight, Scully. And I want my name on your lips every single fucking thrust I give you."
Scully gasped when he stroked himself in a slow up-and-down motion. Not to be outdone, she ripped open her shirt and ignored the buttons that flew everywhere. Pulling down her bra, she squeezed her breasts until it made her husband lick his lips, then with one hand busy with her breasts, she hooked the other on her panties. She lifted her legs gracefully, lifting her rear end with it, and with one swoop, the useless scrap of lace was gone. Her husband groaned; she knew it killed him when she demonstrated her dancer's agility in bed just for him.
She plunged her fingers in her cunt, gasped when she realized how wet she was, and went back to her clit to spread the wetness there. With their eyes on each other, she started stroking and pumping herself, while he did the same, until their groans filled the closet and they were close, goddamn close.
"No, not this way, not tonight," she protested, removing her fingers from her cunt. Suddenly, Mulder dropped to his knees and before she could do anything else, he had taken her fingers in her mouth and sucked them dry. His tongue traveled the ridges of her fingers as if it was the first time he had ever tasted her.
"How do you want it, Mrs. Mulder?" he inquired darkly, kissing the tips of those same fingers.
She smirked at him. "Fuck me with your tongue."
He closed his eyes and pressed down on his abdomen. "God, I've wanted to hear that from you since Canada." With that he laid down on the floor, his erection jutting up in the air. She ignored it for the meantime as she stood up and all but practically ripped the rest of her clothing. Then, she sat down on his abdomen, her ass feeling the heat of his erection. She rubbed against it for a moment, making Mulder squirm, and made the trip up to his face. She made sure she rubbed her wetness all over his body, from his sparse chest hair, his erect nipples, that one-day-old stubble on his chin that felt heavenly against her swollen lips, and his mouth. She stretched her legs further so that she was literally mounting his face, so that she could feel his tongue inside her.
Mulder braced her against him with his hands on her thighs, making sure that she didn't move away. His tongue darted out for a taste of her clit and it was an electric current against her whole body. The touch, no matter how light, was almost close to bringing her to fucking nirvana. She doubled over, then remembered that Mulder needed to breathe, so she bent over and anchored her elbows around his waist. In response, Mulder began to thrust his cock near her head.
Heaven, Scully thought, being so open to a man like this was pure heaven. Her nipples were in the air, as erect as his cock, and his tongue inside her canal thrusting like insane. Soon, she was rubbing her clit on the hood of his nose, not caring if he was able to breathe at all, because it felt so damn good.
There it was, the familiar coiling in her. But this time, it didn't start from her cunt – it started from the tips of her toes and the top of her head, running like a waterfall from both polar ends of her until it met for a tidal wave in her center. Mulder now bobbed his head up and down in the effort, his cock thrusting up and down beside her face, and she was surprised when a finger dipped into her caverns and swirled around. She opened her mouth to shout but was cut short when with one hand, Mulder pushed her to completely sit on his face. Scully flailed for anywhere to hold so that she wouldn't suffocate him, and fortunately found the lower shelves as anchors. Then, he did what he knew would get her off in the craziest possible way: he inserted a finger inside her ass and began to pump.
"Mulder! Mulder! I love you, Jesus, I love you!" she cried out, as if for help, then she was gone. She felt her inner muscles throb and she couldn't help it, she ground out into his mouth so hard she knew he felt the throbbing on his cheeks. Her orgasm was so intense tears sprang from her eyes, while her ass throbbed simultaneously in pleasure.
"Fuck, Scully," he answered her cries. She was still quivering when he pushed her off him. He grabbed her shirt, wiped his intensely wet face, and with no preamble, carried her out of the closet. She was still shaking from aftershocks when he dropped her on the bed, made her turn around, and he mounted her from behind.
"I'm so hard, Scully," he pleaded, rubbing his cock on her ass. "I need you. I want your pussy to grip my cock so hard."
Scully pushed back, wanting to get up on all fours. "I need you in my ass tonight, Mulder," she replied, in her best bedroom voice, "take me there. Fuck me hard."
"Not yet," he said. He lifted himself off her and spread her legs wide. "Mrs. Mulder, you're so wet, do you feel that? You're so wet you're soaking the sheets."
"Let the laundry worry about that, Mulder. I need you now!" she demanded and he chuckled. Despite their position, it was easy for him to push into her cunt as she was so wet and ready for him. They both groaned in unison when he was completely in her.
"I need a sec," he complained near her neck, and she nodded in agreement. She was gripping him so tight that she could feel his throbbing head inside of her. One move, without control, and he'd explode.
"You good?" she asked, she hoped not impatiently. To test him, she moved her ass around a bit. In response, he made a choking sound.
"You're so tight, baby," he muttered in pain. There it went: it was only when her husband was completely out of control that he'd call her "baby." She only allowed it in bed, too. "You're so fucking tight I'm about to come."
"If you don't move, Mulder, I will."
"All right, all right." He anchored his elbows on the sides of her breasts and started an uneven rhythm that he quickly fixed with a spirited thrust that took her breath away. "Fucking God, Scully, baby … you're so goddamn tight!"
"Yeah …" she agreed. She did feel tight. She didn't know why but man, it felt too good to argue against.
"Look at this, baby," he cried, pulling out so that it was only the tip of his cock in her cunt, then pushing back in suddenly. She felt every inch of his pump at the back of her spine; every hair on her body was standing up from the sheer pleasure of it. "Look. At. This." He pulled out again, then pumped in again. It took a while for him to adjust his whole size in her. "So fucking tight!"
"I know." She started moving on her own, loving the feel of him inside of her but wanting more. "Mulder, take me! Bloody do it!"
"What do you want me to do with your pussy?" he panted; he was still thrusting in and out of her, as if his body couldn't process what she was demanding him.
"Fill it up with your fingers. Make me come with both holes."
"Fuck, damn it," he shouted, and pulled out. He held her by her pelvis and pulled her up so that her ass was up in the air. She kept her face on the mattress, wanting him to see her glistening pussy.
"Beautiful," he admired, bending down to lick at her cunt from top to bottom, making her quiver in excitement. He reached over the bedside table where they kept the jelly, but she stopped him.
"Scully?"
"No, I'm so wet. Just shove it in. I'm ready to take you all in."
With a grunt and a heave, Mulder parted her cheeks until he found her hole. He repositioned himself so that he could thrust easily in her, and with a gentle nudge, she felt his cock at her rim.
"More, Mulder." She pushed back at him. "You fucking know how I like it."
"Damn," he cursed once more, before obeying. He did it gently despite her frustration, keeping in mind that she didn't let him put any jelly on before anal sex. Once he was inside her, Scully wanted to scream. The exquisite mix of pain and pleasure were making her wild with need. The lust coursed through her body in waves that filled her every end; she almost couldn't breathe with her need to be fucked by her husband.
"Fingers in me NOW!" she shouted, and he obeyed again. Two, then three were inside of her, and he began to move into her ass. The pleasure made her eyes roll back in her head.
He pumped in, then withdrew, just at the same moment his fingers pumped in her. It was a delectable rhythm that she moved against to. Soon, she found herself on her palms and crying out to the heavens. She was so close, so close, it was again starting from all polar ends of her and she had an inkling that this orgasm was going to render her unconscious. It was going to be THAT spectacular.
It was then that he draped his long, lean body over hers and his mouth found the shell of her ear. Scully lifted her head up and opened her neck to him, cradling his chin in between the juncture of her shoulder, for she knew what he needed to do.
"I love you so much, Scully," he huskily declared, a prayer meant just for her, into her ear.
"Mmm …" she moaned first, feeling the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure deep within her belly. "I love you too, Mulder."
Then, losing control, Mulder started to shout her name in between his thrusts, his fingers still deep in her pussy. She answered him in return with his own name on her lips; however, it wasn't enough, she was about to come, so she pushed his hand down on her clit and she howled. "Mulder, come now!"
With just that, Mulder gasped as her inner muscles ate his fingers up, the vibrations resonating in her behind, and with one final push, he also came so hard his knees shook at the back of her legs.
As she expected, she blacked out to the sound of Mulder coming down from his high.
Scully woke up with a start, her gasp once more echoing in her ears. This time though, rather than feeling as if a truck ran over her, she felt so light as if she could fly.
"Good evening, darling," Mulder greeted. She searched for him beside her, didn't find him there, and spotted him seated on a chair near her side of the bed. He reached over for something on the nearby bedside table, and quickly produced a cup of tea. She smiled sleepily as she accepted the tea and he helped her sit up with a cushion of pillows on her back.
"Mhmm …" she hummed, smelling the scent of her favorite Jasmine tea. "How long you've been up?"
Mulder chuckled. He was in his dark blue robe and was also busy sipping his tea. "Long enough to go out, buy some stuff, and come back to find you still sleeping, Scully. How are you feeling?" he inquired, his eyes smoky in their half-lit bedroom.
She reached up to push back a stray strand of brown hair on his forehead. "Wonderful. I feel bloody perfect." Smiling at him, she drank her tea. The warm liquid swirled in her mouth, down her throat, and with a satisfying sigh, dropped in her stomach. She loved this all – and loved even more her husband who understood how much she wanted her tea after vigorous sex.
"I got you something while you were passed out."
She had another sip of her tea. "What's that?"
Mulder opted to show her instead. He reached behind him and produced a pink box that she knew too well.
"Oh no …" Scully shook her head. "I told you: I'm not pregnant!"
"You're in denial, wife. When was your last period?"
That made her blush. Not that she was embarrassed, for crying out loud, but because the answer made his conviction even more appealing: "Umm, two months ago."
"Holy fuck, Scully …" he chuckled, a sound that resonated deep in his belly. "And you're writing that off as what?"
"Stress?" she defended, hiding behind her cup. "Too much bloody things going on at the same time?"
"I know your body well, Mrs. Mulder. I know that when you miss your period even for just a month, we should order a cake to announce the good news to the children."
"I told you … I'm NOT pregnant."
Mulder sighed and placed his cup down the bedside table. He also took hers, much to her chagrin, and covered her hands with his. He bore into her eyes, allowing her to read him completely, bearing himself and his emotions to her: it was a privilege, one she enjoyed exclusively as his wife. Plus, she was the only one who could read him "like a kindergarten book," he would chime in.
"Scully, baby," he started, running chills down her spine, "Why are you so afraid of being pregnant? It's not as if we can't work around it. We always do."
"It's …" she paused. "It's … because it's unexpected. It's out of control. We didn't plan this one. Like John."
"And look how well that turned out."
"No, I mean … I'm not sure if I'm in the right frame of mind to have another one."
He drew closer. "Are you afraid that YOU'RE losing control of the situation?"
Bingo.
Scully's lower lip quivered and the tears pooled at the edges of her eyes. "Yes. Like, hell, I'm thirty-five … I should've taken those damn pills, I should've not skipped a day, I should've … I just want to welcome a baby in the right frame of mind. Not like this."
"I understand," Mulder agreed. "A baby is certainly not high on our priority list right now. I'm scared, too. Especially at my age – another baby's certainly a lot to think about, with two young ones still clinging onto our every move. But I'm also excited for the possibility: that we've created life again – another you and me. I want that. I always will."
"Me too," Scully agreed, then shied away, "just … I don't know. I have mixed feelings about this."
"Yeah, I know," he drew forward and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "You're the only one who can say what you want to feel about this situation. Whatever you feel about the outcome of this pregnancy test, however you may react, I will respect that. It's your body and it's your right to react that way. And it is your choice to see what deems fit to this situation."
Her eyes swelled with tears. Whatever did she do to deserve a husband like this?
Mulder kissed her on the lips then stood up. He placed a hand out, which she gladly took and helped her stand up. He handed her the kit and dressed her up in her matching white robe.
She smirked at him. "What makes you think I'm pregnant?"
"I've made love to you for six pregnancies, Scully. I know how it feels when there's a bun in the oven."
She giggled. "Let's see if your groin's psychic abilities are up to par, husband."
"Let's see."
Closing the door behind her in the bathroom, she went through the motions like she had so many times before: tear open the packet, pee into a cup, get the dropper, drop into the kit, then wait. Ten minutes.
It was only nine minutes in when the telltale pink lines came. Scully sucked in a deep breath and calmed herself down. The tears came, fast and sudden, and she wondered what they were for. She closed her eyes and assessed her feelings. Meditating in silence, she tried to find in herself the cause of her tears.
Then, when the faces of her children all came at her one-by-one, she found it: she was crying tears of joy.
"Mulder, Mulder!" she bellowed, breezing out of the bathroom and into his arms, with the stick in one hand.
"What is it, darling?" he asked, gathering her close.
"Look!" she waved the stick in his eyes. When he zeroed in on the pink lines, a smug grin broke out on his face. It quickly was replaced by the wetness in his eyes. "I knew my cock wasn't wrong," he tried to proudly declare, but his voice was shaking. He turned to her. "How do you feel about this?"
Without hesitation, she answered: "Happy. I feel happy about this."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," she croaked, reaching up to taste his lips, and what a glorious taste it was: the taste of their tears, happiness, and collective excitement. "Mulder, you're going to be a father! Again!"
"I will never tire hearing those words from you, Scully," he said into her hair, "Never."
Her heart swelled over until she thought it might burst from the love she felt for this man and the children they have had over the years. Seven. She peeked at the bedside table, where Mulder had placed the faux bouquet of lilies he got her from Canada. From now on, when she looked at that bouquet, she would always remember the seventh. A bouquet for the seventh, she thought, and soon, she was kissing him once more.
THE END
C/N: Shall I write more in this universe? Prompts in the comment section are welcome!
