Beware. Mature Content.
Chapter 2
She takes his hand and leads him into her bedroom where she had managed to light the six scented candles on her night stand. The room felt ethereal. The whole situation felt unreal. It was as if Clara Barks's ghost had taken over her and given her courage to test run her emotional fortitude. Friends-with-benefits only works when there are no expectations, no messy feelings involved. On any other night, Scully might have paused to at least consider how it came to this, if not to halt it altogether knowing how much she had to drink. But this was not the night. Tonight was hers.
It was around the time of Mulder's bizarre brain activity when Scully found evidence that Mulder had indeed called and slept with Agent Fowley. Right before then, she thought things were finally going the way she hoped it would after six years of partnership, cancer, an aborted kiss, a rescue at the edge of the earth, and hips before hands, among others. But as always, it never happened. The universe was definitely conspiring against them, she had thought. When Diana sacrificed her life for Mulder's, she knew that was it. He was right about her when it counted. He was right to love her despite Scully's personal dislike for that woman. And she, as he said, was his friend. The one who kept him honest. She always was and always will be. In a moment of total clarity and acceptance, she knew her place in his life. It was okay to be his friend. .. just his friend. And she was finally fine with that.
When she kissed him on his bandaged forehead and allowed her thumbs to linger on his lips, it was to say goodbye to all her girlish hopes with this man.
So this night would be a testament to that new reality. They would 'make love without a future', as Gabriel Garcia Marquez so eloquently put it. Tonight, they would be friends who had nothing better to do than to satisfy a basic human need. Why shouldn't they be able to get past that?
Mulder's hand is cold to the touch, his face full of skepticism and wonder. Scully seats him at the edge of the bed and places herself between his thighs. As her fingers work down at his buttons, Mulder's breathing becomes ragged. He is unable to look at her.
"Shhh," she whispers under his chin. "Just close your eyes. I can be anyone you want."
In an instant their lips pounce, and they are a tangle of half-shed clothes. Their bodies banter in bed as their minds do - she, with the studied touch of a medical doctor, and he with his intuition into human nature. It is as generous and as thorough as only their partnership can be. And it is decidedly untainted by the insecurities of the heart and the doubts in their minds.
Scully is relishing in this newfound confidence, and Mulder is clearly enjoying it. She can sense how he tries to prolong this dance to see how many times he could make her come. But as all good things come to an end, this she intends to go out with a bang. Straddling Mulder's hips, Scully arches her back and reaches for his perineum.
"Oh god," Mulder grunts. "D!--na!"
***
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