THIS WORK IS IN COLLABORATION WITH ANNIE, admiralty (Ao3), admiralty_xfd (Twitter), admiralty-xdf (Tumblr)
ii. la passion
"Hey, Scully."
Mulder watched as she looked up from across the desk, questions in her eyes. It was late. They'd been in the basement working all day long, and neither of them had acknowledged the fact that they would typically have gone home at least two hours ago.
But it wasn't work keeping them down here, it was tension. Avoidance. The inevitable fast approaching. All they'd needed was a push, and Scully had done that for them last night when she roused him from his sleep and pressed her lips to his, for the first time ever in a most decidedly non-New-Years-non-platonic fashion. It had been fast and furious. It had finally happened.
The morning after turned into the afternoon after, which turned into the evening after. Now he could hardly contain himself.
"Do you… want to come over?" he asked. It was the most direct he'd ever been with her. The questions in her eyes turned to a single answer in a millisecond.
"Yes," she said. It really was that simple. Maybe it had been for years.
Then he was up, out of his chair, and so was she, as they met beside the desk kissing fiercely, cupping each other's faces with both hands. It was as if they'd never waited at all, as if a thousand averted glances hadn't occurred in this very space over the past seven years.
She let him drive and he did, walking her backwards across the worn carpet and pressing her against the door to the office, locking it. This wasn't going to wait until they got back to his apartment. This was going to happen, and it was going to happen right the fuck now.
They kissed with abandon, tongues hungry, and she moaned his name into his mouth, a sound so filled with relief. Mulder. It was as if she had a million things to say to him but only one word with which she could articulate any of it.
His intentions were clear and so were hers, their clothes coming off piece by piece, piling up in the corner of the basement that had never seen so much of either of them before. Soon they were on the floor, her skirt and heels the only remaining articles of clothing still clinging to her perfect body. And she was perfect, more perfect than even in his dreams.
He hovered over her, red hair serpentine in tiny tendrils around her face, as she watched him in wonder. And he watched her, too. Aliens, UFOs, monsters: all possible. But this, right now? She was his. He couldn't believe it.
He could feel her trembling in his arms, but whether it was with fear or desire he didn't know. Maybe both? She'd left him alone in his bed last night. He wasn't prepared to assume this would be an ongoing engagement, as much as he'd have liked it to be. They hadn't said much to each other either; it had been a blur of heat and energy. She had let him in, figuratively and literally, but when he woke up in the morning she was gone. He wasn't sure if it would ever happen again.
Now that it was, in fact, happening again, he felt an overwhelming urge to make it count. They were about to have sex in their office, something he'd fantasized about countless times. He wouldn't take one second for granted. This had to be perfect.
Suddenly the floor wasn't good enough. Not for her, not for the two of them. He sat up, then stood, taking her hand, pulling her to her feet. His hands went to her ass and she took his cue, leaping up into his arms as he carried her over to the desk, still kissing her with fervor, sitting her on top of it.
He planted his arms on the desk on either side of her and moved his mouth around to the side of her face, hearing her softly panting into his ear as he spoke into hers. "Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this, Scully?" he whispered. He wasn't used to having his ultimate fantasies coming to life. Maybe he felt like he never deserved it, never deserved her. Could she actually love him? Could it be true?
She took his tie in her hand, its stubborn knot having rendered it the only remaining article of clothing he still wore other than his underwear, and pulled him into her until their foreheads touched, smiles mirroring one another. It was so incredibly sexy, he wondered if there was any other possible purpose for a tie. He couldn't think of a damn thing.
"I think I might," she replied huskily.
His fingers grazed her skin just beneath the edge of her skirt, pushing it up a bit, tracing lines along the inside of her thigh, and she quivered beneath his touch. "Did you think about this?"
"Yes," she admitted, as he lightly kissed her neck, moving downward, along her collarbone. He could feel her subtly arching towards his hand.
"Did you think about us… while you were down here in the office?" he asked her.
The basement was their hideaway, their sacred space. No one ever came down here.
Until now, he thought with a smirk.
"Every day," she admitted. She tilted her head to look him in the eyes, wanton and willing. He'd seen a similar look for months- ever since their lips touched at the stroke of midnight on New Year's he suspected she wanted more from the way she would look at him. But he'd never seen Scully's eyes quite this way, drunk with desire for him, and he would have come in his pants immediately if he wasn't so determined to get this right.
Releasing his tie, she pulled his face into hers, devouring him, nibbling hungrily on his bottom lip, as she squeezed her thighs together in an effort to get him to touch her where she wanted.
"Touch me, Mulder…" she said, her head tilting backwards, moaning as his fingers circled tantalizingly close. They were so near to where he wanted to touch her he could already feel the slickness between her thighs. He could smell her arousal and it was driving him absolutely crazy.
"Tell me first, Scully," he mumbled into her neck. "Tell me what you thought about."
She groaned softly and he wondered if he was talking too much. Talking had always been a turn on for him; he'd dialed enough 900 numbers to be keenly aware of that fact. And the sensual quality of her voice and the things it did to him had been a given for years. But would Scully like it? He didn't know yet what she liked or didn't like.
"I… oh, Mulder …" She took his free hand and placed it on one of her breasts. Her nipple was hard against his warm palm and he moved his thumb across it slowly, back and forth, and she shuddered beneath his touch as she clutched at the muscles of his shoulders. Not that he expected otherwise, but her breasts were perfect. He'd gotten glimpses over the years but not like this; not while she wanted him to see her this way, to see her hardened peaks at attention only for him. He began to knead softly, his other fingers still teasing her beneath her skirt. Her eyes closed as she moaned and he still couldn't believe any of this was happening, that Dana Scully was letting him in like this in the middle of their office.
"I thought about this, right now, exactly this," she said. "Right here on the desk."
He'd probably thought of the same thing about a million times. A million ways, a million scenarios. When he was working, when he wasn't. Convenient moments and extremely inconvenient moments. They'd both been waiting to act upon their physical urges for so long but he never really knew why, or for what.
He was just about to enter her with the tip of his finger when he discovered something to his great delight.
"Scully, please tell me you don't typically go commando at work," he said. "I consider myself a man with a strong constitution but I don't know if I can handle that bit of information."
She shook her head. "I had to take them off a few hours ago."
"Why?"
"Thinking about you has become an occupational hazard, Mulder." She grinned, widening her thighs.
"Fuck," he groaned. He chose not to reveal how many 'occupational hazards' he'd dealt with on her account.
His fingers finally entered her easily, two of them, and she gasped, arching again into his hand. He couldn't believe how wet she was and his cock twitched inside his boxers, aching for contact. He did this to her. He was the one who made her this wet and he could hardly believe his good fortune.
His fingers moved deftly, exploring her depths in a way he hadn't been able to the night before. Almost as if in retaliation, she reached over to feel him through his boxers. Her warm hand against his rock hard length was such a welcome sensation he groaned.
"Now… you tell me, Mulder," she breathed, her fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers, slowly dipping inside. He grunted with the realization the tables had turned. He couldn't believe how hard he was and she was certainly aware it was she who did this to him.
"Yes," was the only word he could form. Yes. More. This. Now. Anything. All possibilities but he could only say "yes."
"What did you think about… when you thought about you and me… down here?" she prodded, her hand fully gripping him now. She began to circle his leaking tip with her thumb, spreading his arousal as she teased him. His brain shifted into overdrive. This is Scully saying this, this is Scully touching me like this.
"Did you touch yourself, Mulder? When you thought about… us?" The word 'us' had been uttered so softly, with reverence, as she leaned in close to his ear.
Us. It nearly left him breathless. Nothing in the world could supplant the very notion.
"More times than I'd care to admit, Scully," he replied honestly.
"Me too," she said quickly, and he lurched in her hand. Oh, fuck.
"Really? Down here? In the office?" He looked at her in amazement. This was a new Scully, a very sexual Scully he was only just learning about. Maybe she was his final frontier.
She nodded as she removed her hand from his shorts, brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked on it gently. His jaw went completely slack and he gaped at her.
"Masturbation is healthy, Mulder," she smiled. "And nothing to be ashamed of. When there's enough sexual stimulation to cause vasodilation…" he groaned. Whenever she spouted science it made him harder than he'd ever care to admit. Her hand returned to stroke him, and he kept fingering her, and he thought his eyes might roll back into his head from just this. "...There's really little... choice, but to… take care of it," she was saying.
He knew this only too well, but hearing it come out of Scully's mouth was next level.
"Want me to show you how I'd do it?" she asked. "When I fantasized about us?" His head began nodding, bobbing wildly of its own accord, and he'd find it humorous if he wasn't so deeply aroused by everything that was happening.
She brought her hand down and covered his own. Interlacing their fingers, she began touching herself, his fingers and her fingers becoming a single entity.
He couldn't speak, he was so turned on. He just looked her in the eyes and groaned, and she smiled, knowing the power she held over him, the power she probably now realized she'd always held over him. Their hands moved together inside her and her voice hitched, her head lolling back to stare at the fluorescent lights above them. After a few moments of thoroughly coating their fingers with her arousal, she moved their hands away from her and slowly pushed his boxers down with her other hand, freeing his throbbing cock, standing proudly at attention.
She let her eyes break free from his gaze and looked down, resting her eyes upon him. It occurred to him that in all the times over the years she'd seen him naked, she had never seen him quite this way before, hard as a rock because of her, underneath the office lights in all his glory. And neither of them had much of an opportunity to fully appreciate each other's bodies last night in the dark.
"You're so beautiful, Mulder," she breathed as she looked down, and it was for all the world as if she'd never seen anything in her life so wonderful. His truth, his feelings for her, finally on plain display for her to see with her own eyes.
"No, you, Scully…" he said. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was but words couldn't quite capture his feelings. This was all so new, this ability to admire each other so openly. "Look at you."
She wrapped both their fingers around him at the same time, stroking firmly, up and down. He pressed his lips to hers again in the kiss he was starting to suspect he'd never get enough of. He was addicted to her already, he knew it. He hoped they could keep whatever this was going, because going back to the way they were before seemed unfathomable now.
As they stroked him together, she reached for his free hand and interlaced those fingers together as well. He was certain he'd never been so turned on in his life and the dual sensations of feeling himself and her soft hand together was bringing him closer and closer to the brink. He wanted to be inside her, badly, but he had an overwhelming urge to slow down, prolong the inevitable.
Separating their hands, he moved his own back down between her legs, flicking and sliding up and down, emboldened by her impossible wetness. She gripped and pulled him closer with her thighs, gasping and moaning ohmygodMulderyes as if she'd never been touched this way in her life before. He knew that couldn't possibly be the case and wondered if he was doing anything unique that was making her react this way.
Or maybe it was just… him.
He smiled inside their kiss, giddy in this knowledge, this possibility that he alone could do this to her, that he alone was the subject of her fantasies. He wasn't the type to indulge in this kind of narcissism but here and now, looking into the eyes he knew so well he let himself believe it.
"I'm ready, okay, Mulder?" Her voice came out in short, panting breaths. He could tell she'd been ready for a while now. Her eyes looked almost completely dilated and he knew she was already very, very close to the edge.
"Wait," he said softly, holding her chin tenderly as he kissed her. He had no idea what their future held. He wanted this to last. He wanted her to remember this, remember him, some far off night in her future when she was with some other man, far away from him, far away from all of this.
"No, no more waiting, Mulder," she whispered. "I'm so tired of waiting."
"I want to give you what you want, Scully," he whispered into her ear, leaning in to suckle at the sweet flesh of her neck. His thumb found her clit and she gasped again. "Anything and everything you want."
He didn't know what she wanted. But what he wanted was to keep her around. What he wanted was to make her stay.
"I only want you," she said, her fingers grasping the back of his neck. "Just you, now, Mulder. That's all."
Her fingernails scratched the sensitive spot at his nape and his entire body reacted in a way he'd never felt before. It almost scared him, what she could do to him, and his cock ached for release. Scully's calves pulled him in closer until he was flush against her sex, and snaked her arms around his back, stroking his shoulder blades, softly gyrating against him.
"Mulder, please …" she said.
Why was he prolonging this, why was he torturing them both? He thought at once of that feeling he experienced last night when she'd slid down onto him, finally, the sweet relief of truth crashing down all around them.
He wanted to find that truth again.
With both hands he reached behind her to bring her all the way to the edge of the desk. She was at the perfect height for his entry, and she looked into his eyes and waited, prepared.
He gripped his cock, heavy and almost painful with want. He could feel it thrumming as he guided it to brush up against her primed entrance. He then looked her in the eyes and she nodded, and with one swift motion he pushed into her completely, sliding all the way, as far as he could into her tight glossy depths.
She gasped and clutched the back of his neck, her heels digging into his lower back, cursing loudly.
"Jesus fuck, Mulder!"
"Are you okay?" he immediately asked. He wasn't suffering from false arrogance; he was large and he knew it. But Scully rarely cursed. A small part of him was ashamed her profanity turned him on so much.
"God-" she scratched his shoulder blades deeply. "Fuck. Yes. Sorry, just… Yes. I'm more than okay."
He withdrew his pulsating length almost all the way and plunged back inside her. She cried out his name god, yes and he kept going, emboldened by her cries, a piston engine in his prime. She screamed out his name over and over don't stop, don't ever stop. He never, ever wanted to.
It was absolute perfection, and he looked into her beautiful aquamarine eyes knowing this was it, he was fucking Scully in the X files office and there was absolutely nowhere to go from here but down. He'd never felt such pure unadulterated pleasure before in his entire life.
Her nails dug deeply into his back as she screamed, his name bouncing around within the walls of the office, audible evidence of what he could do to her.
"M-Mulder…" she said as she gripped the back of his neck tightly.
He loved hearing her say his name this way. The effect her voice had on him had always been a particular source of excitement but now he could revel in it; her saying his name like this.
His hand drifted down her leg behind him to her foot and he realized she was still wearing her pumps. He groaned audibly as the more voyeuristic part of him pictured the scene; him fucking her on the desk beneath her hitched up skirt, her spiky heels wrapped around his back, her fist clutching his tie as it dangled between them.
It was sexier than any one of his fantasies.
Her lips found his again and he marveled at how perfect, how in sync, how amazing they were at this… just like they were together in every other way. He wasn't surprised, just delighted.
Suddenly her grip on him tightened and he heard her gasping oh, god, Mulder and her walls clenched around him as she rode out the pounding waves of her pleasure. He watched her face as she came and it was better than any UFO he'd ever seen, or not seen. Fuck, this was as real as it got. As he watched her he couldn't hold off any more himself. They crashed into each other and when it was over she held the back of his neck with one hand, his tie with the other, their foreheads meeting in the middle, breathing, breathing.
After a while he noticed how tired his legs were. He gathered her in his arms, kissing her shoulder, and pulled her off the desk, sinking down until they were both lying spent on the floor.
He looked up at the pencils stuck in the ceiling above them and thought about yesterday's Mulder, the Mulder who hadn't yet made love to Dana Scully twice. The Mulder who threw pencils into the ceiling out of sexual frustration, now lying next to her, sated and spent.
She leaned into him, kissing his temple, and he pulled her close until she was lying on his chest.
"So… did it live up to your fantasy, Scully?"
"It was better than I imagined," she informed him. "You?"
"No comparison whatsoever."
They laughed for a minute and he felt like something had changed. This didn't feel awkward anymore. He'd asked her to come over, and maybe she still would.
Maybe tonight she would stay.