Work Text:
Mulder had never been so worked up by a woman that he had to make out with her in the elevator and the hallway. He thought that type of thing was only in the movies. Yet, here he was, painfully hard, with Scully pressed against the door of Apartment 42.
Scully was right. It was a good thing he had a bed now, and he was excited to finally bring her there for a reason other than helping him dig old files out of the closet. But first, they had to make it through his front door.
“Scully,” he murmured. “The next part of my dream usually happens inside my bedroom.” Although that wasn’t entirely true. He’d dreamed of taking her in other places too. The office. The car. Hell, even right here against his door. Neighbors be damned.
“Sorry,” she said with a chuckle.
A step to the side gave him just enough room to slip his key into the lock. As soon as the door squeaked open, he guided her over the threshold. The soft glow of the fish tank was the only light in the otherwise dark apartment. Surely that was the reason he almost went headfirst over a chair. It couldn’t possibly be attributed to the beers he’d had earlier or the way his brain short-circuited when Scully touched him. And no way did it have anything to do with his own laziness for not returning the chair to its rightful place after changing a lightbulb in the first place.
Scully’s steadying hands were on his shoulders, her giggles filling the room. “Are you okay?”
“I can assure you that never happened in any of my dreams,” he remarked.
“No?”
He couldn’t make out the details of her face in the darkness, but he could feel her eyebrow arching. He suspected her eyes were prime for rolling, that her face wore that “Mulder, you’re crazy” expression that drove him wild. At some point over the years, her playful annoyance had become a turn on for him.
Grabbing her by the waist, he yanked her against him. “That chair is usually under the table, and in my dreams, that table serves a much greater purpose for you and me.”
“Show me.”
It was a challenge that he eagerly accepted. A few steps to the left, and he had Scully in front of the table. One lift of her hips, and he had her on top of it. Leaning down, he crushed his mouth against hers. His dirtiest dreams and wildest fantasies were right before him, and he didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity.
His hands moved in a blur. They ran down her body and then back up the length of her thighs. They were over her skirt, then under it. Fingertips danced across the smooth skin until they reached her underwear. The wetness, the heat, had him pulling at the fabric and guiding it down her legs. Her fingers tugged at his zipper, but he batted them away.
“Not yet,” he growled as he dropped to his knees in front of her and started bunching up her skirt.
“You really dream about this?” she asked. Mulder could hear the skepticism in her voice, but he also detected something else—desire. It rolled off her tongue, thick and syrupy.
“More than you could ever know,” he responded before running his tongue across her center.
“Oh, God!” she exclaimed on contact.
Oh, God, was right. Adjectives sprung to his mind instead of fully formed thoughts.
Sweet. Salty. Wet.
His hands curled around her thighs, tugging her closer, allowing him to taste her more completely. She reclined slightly to give him better access but didn’t take her eyes off him. He could feel her stare as strongly as he could feel the fingers twisting in his hair.
He circled her clit as he sunk two fingers into her. “Do you remember what I said in the parking lot?” he murmured. “I want to hear you make that noise again.”
A whimper sprung from her throat. It might not have been an exact match to the one she’d released earlier, but it was close. His cock throbbed, and he felt as primal as she sounded. He lapped at her harder, his tongue tracing patterns until her head fell back and she pulsed around his fingers.
#
Time escaped her. It could have been two seconds or five minutes. It wasn’t until Mulder cradled the back of her head and pulled her forward that she snapped back to reality.
“You taste so good, Scully,” he whispered, and maybe to prove it to her, he pressed his mouth against hers. He was spot on. She did taste good; they tasted good together.
She could barely comprehend that they’d been at a bar less than an hour ago, pretending they weren’t purposefully touching knees with each swivel of their stools. Now, tasting herself on his tongue, it felt overwhelming. They were going too fast; they weren’t going fast enough. A rush of hormones poured into her extremities, propelling her hands forward, but Mulder brushed them away again. Instead, she found herself cradled in his arms like some flustered bride.
He hurried her to the bedroom and deposited her onto the bed with such gentleness that it made the frenzied blur that followed all the more disorientating. Mulder’s pants were gone. Her shirt was unbuttoned. They removed what remained of their clothes until there was nothing between them.
He positioned himself between her legs, forearms resting on either side of her head. One purposeful move, and he’d be inside her. The realization made her so dizzy, giddy, and hopelessly consumed that her next words came out easily. “It’s my turn to show you what I dream about.”
His eyes were wide and adoring as he watched her disentangle from him and crawl to the top of the bed. She grabbed onto the headboard before tearing her gaze from his to face the wall. He was behind her in seconds.
“I like this dream,” he purred. Fingertips dug into her waist as he leaned down to brush the hair off her neck. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He entered her with a groan. Her grip tightened on the headboard as he thrust into her. She realized then how big he was. His body. His cock. She felt so small but also so full and swollen with need. Her throbbing clit begged to be touched, and she snaked one hand between her legs to answer its call.
Mulder curled around her body. Fingers found her nipple; lips found her ear. “You feel so good, Scully.”
His voice shot directly to her clit. He was so insanely deep. Her head fell forward, hair surrounding her face. If she was tipsy on him before, now she was fully cock-drunk.
“You’re so perfect like this,” he uttered, lips trailing down the back of her neck toward her upper back. “So fucking perfect that you’re going to make me come.”
The orgasm that ripped through her was powerful. He continued to slide in and out of her as she pulsated around him, wondering how they hadn’t done this sooner.
#
They spent most of the weekend tangled in his sheets, making good on fantasies with kisses, touches, and whispered words. In the kitchen, pans were splattered with pancake batter. Empty Chinese containers littered the counters. A half-drunken bottle of wine had become a permanent decoration on his coffee table. Mulder knew it would bother Scully eventually. That sooner or later, her wonderful rigidness would make a reappearance, but for right now, he took advantage of this new side of her.
When she emerged from the shower, he greeted her with a stack of VHS tapes cradled in his arms and a question: “Nightmare on Elm Street marathon?” Her agreeance came with a smile and an eye roll.
Freddy Krueger’s reign of terror was only half-observed. Striped sweaters and horrific puns were secondary to stolen kisses. By the third movie, they indulged in a luxury not afforded to the teenagers of Elm Street, and they drifted off to sleep.
Scully was gone on Monday morning. Dirty dishes, messy sheets, and scattered VHS tapes were the only evidence left behind of the weekend that changed everything. He arrived at the office with a fluttery pulse and two coffees. He set himself up behind the desk, reclining in the chair with a file like he wasn’t a mess of nerves.
They hadn’t discussed what it would be like in the real world. He had assumed it would be like anything else in their relationship. They had never talked about his spontaneous love confession, just like her making him a whole person remained an unspoken conversation echoing in the hallway of his apartment building. These revelations had just become a new part of them, absorbed like a sponge. Words weren’t needed. Scully being the most important person in his life was a simple fact. Now, he was worried she wouldn’t want the same thing.
She appeared in the doorway with a crisp blazer and a leather briefcase in one hand. Professionalism looked good on her, but so did the little smile creeping onto her face.
“Good morning, Mulder,” she announced with an uncharacteristic girlishness in her voice.
He practically slipped from the chair in relief.
“Are you okay?”
He knew he should respond with the expected quip or dazzling one-liner. Instead, he allowed his gaze to travel the length of her body. He didn’t need to hide it—not anymore.
“Mulder? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said through a grin. “You standing in the doorway of the office just happens to remind me of one of my favorite dreams.”
Her eyebrow shot up, but that little smile remained. “Funny, you say that. That sounds a lot like one of my favorite dreams, too,” she practically purred as she closed the door.