HEAVY PETTING

BY

AllyinthekeyofX

PART III

Summary – Sometimes it just takes the return of a half to make you whole again.

A few years ago I doubt we would have bothered moving from the sofa to the bed but frankly, we aren't as young as we once were and I think our days of practicing furniture origami are probably a thing of the past. But that's okay; I can more than live with that in the same way I can live with the fact that while my mind would like to sweep her in to my arms and carry her giggling up the stairs the way I used to, my back probably wouldn't thank me and certainly by the way my cartilage grinds when I have to do stairs I'm damn sure my knees wouldn't either. And you know that's okay too because if she were in my arms right now I wouldn't be feeling the way her hands are resting on my ass cheeks as she follows me up the steep wooden steps that lead to the bedroom under the eaves of this simple house where we spent so many nights; just being together at a time when we had had nothing else to hold on to but each other.

And even though in a sense it feels as familiar to me as I always hoped it would, there is just a small part of me that feels a little strange. Because it's over two years since she has even climbed these stairs at all, having had neither cause nor inclination and really, I can't say I blame her; especially given the fact I myself didn't manage to make it up here to sleep for weeks after she left even though I was meant to be living in the damn house. But I just couldn't bring myself to even touch the bed we once shared and it was only when I started the counselling that something inside me was set free enough for me to allow myself to utilise the bed rather than the sofa. Even then I often didn't make it through the whole night without waking up; paralysed with the crushing realisation that she really wasn't here; that she had finally left me after trying so hard for so many years to stop me pushing her away.

But I've certainly got no intention of pushing her away tonight and as we reach the narrow landing that leads to the bedroom and then beyond to the bathroom that even now contains bottles of the scented oils she adored and which I couldn't quite bring myself to throw out, I turn so I am facing her; cupping her face in my hands as I bend slightly before once again bringing my lips to hers, needing the contact as I walk backwards through the dark oak doorframe, pulling her with me, conscious of every step we take.

And there is no rush; no particular urgency because we both know we have all the time in the world now; that the desperate need within us to seek both affirmation and absolution from each other is now firmly in the past.

The room is dark and even though the blinds aren't drawn, the fact that there is barely any moon tonight means the furniture within is barely visible; but the room hasn't changed at all and we certainly don't need help negotiating our way to the bed where, to my surprise Scully stops and flicks on one of the lamps that sits atop the small cabinet right beside it.

"It's been too long Mulder" she informs me softly, running the palm of her hand lightly across my chest as she suddenly locks eyes with me; twin laser beams that have the power to render me incapable of coherent thought in some situations and which have knocked me squarely on my sorry ass in others. "I want us to see each other"

She licks her lips then, not the nervous action of times past when she was as unsure of herself as she was of me, but now one of control, of wanting and of delicious anticipation for things to come before crossing her arms to grasp the hem of her shirt, drawing it slowly up her torso and over her head. It's enough to send me weak at the knees and I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed.

I can't tear my eyes away from her and I think maybe my mouth is hanging slightly open, because as she swiftly divests herself of the rest of her clothing and gives me the full benefit of that creamy white skin, not just six inches from my face, I am struck anew by just how fucking beautiful she is.

Had I really forgotten? Or had I refused to allow myself to remember as another way to save myself?

But now, finally, I can look at her as she stands unashamedly in front of me, a tiny smile playing across her face and her eyes alight with desire.

Before I met Scully I had always gravitated to a specific type of woman and I can categorically say that diminutive redheads with attitude had never really featured high in preference where my choice of sexual partners had been concerned but I can vividly remember that the first time I had ever seen her naked, every pre-conception I might have had went tumbling in to the abyss. Because she was perfection then and she is perfection now.

Scully's body is incredible and it's strange because when clothed she can seem slightly out of proportion somehow, the lines of those tailored suits of hers cutting her off at strange angles and making her seem out of whack. But without clothes she is like a finely crafted symphony, a series of musical notes that separately mean nothing but when brought together make perfect and beautiful sense.

Her limbs are finely contoured with just the right amount of definition, her shoulders finely sloping, her collarbones delicate and just visible beneath her skin. Her breasts small but rounded with perfectly centred nipples that right now are a dark chestnut colour, the aureoles slightly drawn and puckered, reflecting her need of me and frankly, if I were blessed with poetic inclination I could happily write a whole sonnet just dedicated to Scully's tits. But I'm not and so I just keep tracking my eyes down her body as she stands before me without even a shred of self-consciousness at my scrutiny of her because she knows I could never look at her and find her wanting because to me at least she is simply exquisite.

Her stomach is still flat and toned and when she breathes in, her abs briefly appear before her abdomen softens once again on the out breath. The scar is still there, although faded by years passed; a small ridged area that is still a contrast to the pale skin that surrounds it. Evidence of a moment in time where she almost died as a result of another's duplicity although not mine for once; because the scars I mostly inflicted on this woman were centred on her mind rather than her body.

I refuse to allow myself to dwell on the thought though because if I've learned anything it's that I am not to blame for the choices Scully made so many years ago and that while falling in to that easy self indulgence may give me some sense of absolution, I now to know that by doing so I effectively trivialise every sacrifice she ever made. And I refuse to do that to her anymore.

So instead I reach for her, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her towards me and our height difference right now means I am able to rest my cheek against the softness of her belly, breathing in the scent of her arousal, a combination of the soap she favours, the perfume she wears and the soft musk that is uniquely hers and the overload to my senses is enough to make my head spin especially when she begins the rake her fingernails through my hair.

"Jesus Scully" I finally manage "this is fucking killing me it's so good."

And she laughs then, the sound lessening the sheer intensity of my feelings just enough to ground me slightly, to allow me to draw breath as she reaches down and takes my hands from behind her back, lifting my arms enough so she can remove the t shirt I have almost forgotten I am wearing and I move to help but am stilled by her palm resting suddenly against my chest.

"Let me do it...I want to do it okay?"

I'm in no shape to argue so I just allow her to undress me, my body pliant and accepting as she deftly releases the button of my jeans, sliding the zipper down so excruciatingly slowly that the movement sends tiny vibrations along the surface of my cock that is now fully erect and just waiting for a chance to show itself. It doesn't have to wait long as she kneels before me, encouraging me to lift my hips slightly so she can pull both jeans and boxers in one fluid movement, capturing my socks as her hands pass by and peeling them away with the jeans. Scully has always been nothing if not efficient. She then scoots towards me on her knees and really, I should have been prepared for what comes next. I

mean I know this woman almost as well as I know myself, know exactly her likes and dislikes, her exquisite and well honed version of foreplay that involves closing those glistening red lips over the head of my cock and sliding her mouth almost fully to the hilt and slowly back again. Just once. Slowly and languidly claiming me as her own.

And it takes every single shred of self control I have left not to come right there and then when I see the expression of absolute satisfaction on her beautiful face as she flicks the head with her tongue, lapping at me like a cat who has just been presented with a dish of cream.

Like I said before, Scully is a bit of a minx.

"Come here" I whisper, pulling her forwards even as lay back on the soft comforter that covers the bed, the softness of the material pillowing me as I in turn pillow Scully, laying her atop me so that every part of her his touching me. Skin to skin contact – specifically of course, her skin against mine – that I have dreamed about a thousand times but never really dared that it might once again become a reality. But she is here and she is gloriously alive and she is mine once again.

I can feel every tiny nuance of her body as she presses it against me, nestling her head just under my chin, her nipples almost rough against my chest, the steady thrum of her heartbeat resonating through me, increasing slightly as I part my legs so she can slip in to the vee it creates, her pelvis resting against mine, her centre hot and wet against my groin, her slight weight pressing against my erection in a most gratifying way and even though I know I should be at least be making some attempt to touch her, to prolong this whole experience for both of us, what I really need is to be inside her, feeling her, joining with her again.

And I think she feels it too, because without a word she slowly raises herself until she is hovering over me, kneeling astride me her hair framing her face, eyes dark and intense as though all pupil; watching me as I prop myself up on one elbow so I can smooth the hair behind her ears, cupping her chin in my hand as my lips meet hers at the exact moment I feel herself lower herself on to me, sheathing me completely in her velvet liquid heat, my hips bucking as I thrust involuntarily to meet her and it is incredible and shocking and stunning and wonderful and unbelievable; in fact frankly there aren't enough adjectives in the world to describe how I'm feeling right now. A sense of belonging, of sufficiency, of coming home; an end to a journey spanning two decades of love and loss and sacrifice. A journey that has come full circle and given us a strength I think we always had but forgot how to use.

All these thoughts flash through my mind in a heartbeat, but as though she senses my introspection she just waits, waits for me to come back to her as her expression softens; the tears that have gathered suddenly in her eyes belying the tiny smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth as her hand finds mine and our fingers interlock. Fitting together like two pieces of the puzzle; just as we always did.

And then she blinks the tears away, the tremulous smile transformed in to a full wattage grin that I swear could light up a small town with its radiance.

"Oh yeah" she murmurs as she begins to move against me once again. "This is how I like my Mulder."

End

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