Spilled Wide Open II
I read storybycorey 's ( u/1940123/storybycorey) Spilled Wide Open and wanted to it to continue. I did not ask permission, so I hope the author approves of this!
Before reading this story, Read Spilled Wide Open, here s/11749600/1/Spilled-Wide-Open
Mulder grips Scully's door handle so hard that his knuckles turn white. He is tempted to slam the door shut, to kick it, to throw himself against it and unleash all of his anger and frustration onto an inanimate object. Instead, he slowly pulls Scully's door shut, the handle moving into place with a final "click." Outside of her space, Mulder braces his arms against her doorframe and rests his head against the cool wood. Why is everything so difficult with Dana Scully? She pushes him away time and again. He knows she's hurting; he feels her pain just as deeply as she does, herself. He's sure of it.
Mulder slowly inhales while counting to 5. He holds his breath and then exhales in the same rhythm. His jeans are clinging to him awkwardly; he had come in his pants mere minutes before.
He hears delicate footsteps approach from the other side of the door and realizes that Scully is moving to lock her front door. She would brace herself in her fortress and keep everyone else on the outside. Mulder does not hesitate. He pushes the door open forcefully, confidently, but still slowly and carefully enough not to slam it into Scully.
Scully gasps in surprise when her front door opens suddenly. She was sure Mulder had already left; was already halfway to his apartment by now.
Mulder shuts the door behind him and gazes at her worldlessly. Scully's face is red with rage, and she is mortified and angry. She had let her guard down, allowing Mulder to witness her in a moment of weakness. She had cried in his arms, and then ground herself against his pelvis until she came undone with pleasure.
Remembering this, Scully cries out in fury, throwing herself at Mulder with all her strength. She beats against his chest while he silently stands there, taking it. He lets her physically exhaust herself to the point where her legs falter ever so slightly; her knees weak. Sensing his opportunity, Mulder scoops her up into his arms. Scully is so small. He forgets that sometimes. At work, she always exudes self-assurance and poise, taking no bullshit while under the armor of a suit and heels.
Scully huffs and presses her palms against Mulder's chest, succeeding only in making him clutch her more tightly. She did not want to need him. She tries to be indignant, to seem disinterested, but she simply ends up losing her composure all over again. She sobs in resignation, gripping his shirt with her little fingers, grasping at him like a child. Mulder feels her breath on his collarbone and her tears are soaking his neck, wetting his shirt collar. His shirtfront was already damp and streaked with black mascara from her earlier crying episode.
"Shh, Scully. Shh." He rubs her back and he feels the muscles in her stomach tighten through their clothes as she pulls her legs up to straddle his waist. She is clinging to him with all her might. Mulder begins walking towards her bedroom, gripping her body to his. His knees graze her bed frame and he makes an attempt to ease her down onto it, but she grips him tighter, gasping. She is terrified of losing contact with him.
Mulder continues to clutch Scully in his embrace. He does not move from where he stands next to her bedside. While he holds her, he smooths her soft hair. He runs his fingers through a tangled knot on the back of her head, indicating where he had grabbed a handful earlier, in the throes of passion.
Scully's sobs become less and less frequent, and she makes a Herculean effort to steady her breathing. Her breath still hitches every few inhales, though. Her clutch on him loosens ever so slightly, so that the top of her head is no longer pressing up under his chin. Mulder gently rests his forehead against hers and they breathe in sync. Scully inhales while Mulder exhales. Mulder inhales and Scully exhales.
He wants to comfort her, to whisper to her about how he knows that she is hurting, how he would never leave her, how much he loves her. How he is devastated that he cannot give her children, but only because of the fact that she wants them so badly. He would give her anything, if he could. But to say so would overwhelm her, and she would certainly push him away.
Scully's upper body goes limp and she lies back on her bed. She is still gripping his hips with her legs, still emitting small hiccups of air. Mulder doesn't move. He doesn't want to breach the silence; to give her an impetus to kick him out. He doesn't even want to look directly at her, afraid his gaze will seem predatory. Scully brings out the caveman in Mulder.
He cannot help himself, however, and hazards a glance at her. His eyes narrow in lust when he sees that the top buttons of her blouse are undone. Moisture is drying over the fabric covering her breasts, indicating where he had licked and bit her through the material earlier. He is painfully hard again, and adjusts his pants in an effort to find relief from the pressure.
Somehow, Mulder finds the courage to lower himself onto the bed next to Scully. His Scully. When she does not object, he brushes his fingers across her hand. Neither one of them speaks as they look into each other's eyes. Feeling emboldened, he grips her hand, stroking her fingers with his own.
Mulder and Scully fall asleep like this, their feet hanging off the side of Scully's bed; Mulder still wearing his shoes and both of them fully clothed. Their hands are intertwined as they breathe in unison.
Sometime during the night, Mulder wakes long enough to notice that Scully is curled up against him, her fingers gripping his shirt just as tightly as she did earlier. This time, however, her face is relaxed in sleep. She is shivering, so he clutches her to his chest with one arm, and uses the other to pull her comforter down. He kicks his feet against the bed, freeing them from his shoes. Gently, so as not to wake her, he scoots towards the head of her bed, never letting her go. Lying back, he grips Scully to his chest, coming to rest with her body held flush on top of his own. He pulls the comforter up over both of them, and rubs his hand down her back in an attempt to warm her up. The movement of his hand slows as he drifts back to sleep.