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Mosquito Bites

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As she stepped into his room and hesitated before slipping the robe off her shoulders, her mind teased her. It may have been a semi-unconscious decision to have thrown the robe on instead of a t-shirt and bottoms, but it was still a choice she had made. It wouldn’t have taken much longer to put on a more appropriate covering. She could tell herself it was the panic of feeling the bumps on her back and what it could mean, but she knew a part of her liked the suggestiveness of the robe.

 

And even in that brief hesitation, she was aware that the quickening of her heartbeat was not just from her distress. It was the dark motel room. It was the candlelight. It was him.

 

Scully looked back at Mulder and gestured to her lower back. It was silent communication, and this thrilled him. Mulder had noticed moments—small moments, but they were there—where they had had unspoken exchanges. Each time it happened, it sparked something inside him, and a little bit of his wary guardedness fell away.

 

He slowly knelt down, letting the light from the candle dance across her pale skin. There had been urgency in her voice, panic in her eyes, but he felt compelled to take his time, wanting this—whatever this was—to be prolonged. If they could lose nine minutes then surely time could slow for them as well.

 

There were three raised red bumps on her lower back, and he felt a pang of alarm in his chest. Mulder reached out, his fingertips hovering, and then he lightly touched her just above the waistband of her underwear. These simple cotton briefs that were somehow sexier than anything made of silk or lace.

 

He chastised himself for this line of thinking and moved the candle closer to better inspect the marks. They looked just like the ones he had on his arms—mosquito bites. He didn’t say this right away.

 

“What are they?”

 

He acted like he was still trying to figure it out, his fingers on her warm skin.

 

“Mulder, what are they?” she asked again.

 

He smiled. “Mosquito bites,” Mulder said finally.

 

He was happy to put her fears to rest, and a little amused at the whole situation. Scully was a medical doctor. The fact that she had come to him for this put two thoughts in his mind. One, this case had gotten to her; her skeptical defenses letting his “fantastic” theories slip through. And two, if she had given herself a little bit of time she most likely would’ve come to the same conclusion he had on her own. But, her first instinct was to come to him, and Mulder was enamoured by this.

 

She felt the hot puff of breath from his mouth on her back and she heard the smile in his voice. Looking down over her shoulder she saw his wide grin.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Mulder stood. He could not wipe the smile off his face. Scully brought her robe back up to cover herself. She was thinking about that smile. Relief washed over her just as warmth flooded her belly, and she knew as she turned and hugged him that the two feelings were unrelated.

 

Mulder was taken aback, almost literally, when the full weight of her petite frame pitched into him. It even took his brain a few seconds to register that he was involved in such an embrace. He couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged somebody or been on the receiving end of one. As foreign as it may be, he found comfort in it. He never had enjoyed closeness like this before, even in intimate situations. Mulder noticed, though, with Scully he stood nearer to her, spoke to her closely, always leaning in a little more than necessary. It was like he was drawn into her orbit.       

 

Scully straightened up, parting their bodies slightly. Her gaze settled at a spot on his chest. She could feel him looking at her, probably wondering about her irrational behavior, but she was afraid to look up. He watched her lips part; her face glowing from the candlelight, the downcast eyelashes, the flushed cheeks dotted with the freckles.

 

He cupped the back of her neck. She heard his breathing. Once she met his eyes something would happen. Finally she lifted her chin, her head going back slightly as if she was drunk from the anticipation.

 

Wasn’t she, though?

 

The relaxed look on his face was belied by an excited crease in his forehead. His eyes. Those lips. The way his hair flopped over his forehead. At that moment, Scully swooned. And Scully doesn’t swoon. In fact, she prided herself on being unswoonable. What she didn’t know was that Mulder was lightheaded about it all, too. He felt weak in the knees and was grateful he had her to hold onto.

 

At Mulder’s slight lean towards her, Scully raised up on her toes so their lips could meet. And they did, tentatively at first—soft, gentle. They opened their mouths to each other at the same time, passing hot breaths between them. Mulder slipped his tongue past her lips. A moan from her escaped their liplock.

 

He kept kissing her as she shed her robe for the second time, now letting it slip all the way to the floor. Mulder hugged her closer, tighter, still holding the candle in his right hand, being careful not to light them on fire, to have the figurative flames ignited inside them become external and literal. Scully’s arms went around his neck. They kissed, wet and frenzied, until they had to part in order to breathe.

 

“Scully,” Mulder whispered softly.

 

Scully just looked back at him, eyes big. She bit her lip, and then reached around behind her back to unclasp her bra. It fell to the floor. Mulder held the candle to her body once again. The warm light flickering, animating the dark shadows at her curves, the tips of her taut nipples.

 

He finally set the candle aside, wanting both hands on her, wanting everything on her. He cupped her cheeks with his hands and kissed her again on the lips, then trailed down her jaw. Scully’s hands went to his arms to steady herself. Mulder bowed down and took her breast in his mouth, lightly sucking. He swirled his tongue around the areola and then moved to the other to do the same, Scully now cradling his head with her hand, fingers entwined in his hair.

 

She closed her eyes as the pleasure overcame her, her head tilted back. There was wetness between her thighs. He softly bit her nipple and she whimpered. Mulder started to kiss his way back up her chest and her hands went to the flaps of his long sleeve shirt. He was wearing too many damn clothes.

 

Mulder got the hint and took it off, then his t-shirt went up over his head. Scully put her hands on his bare chest and ran them down his firm torso. They were both still moving slowly. Her hands went to his belt, but he stopped her. He knelt down, his face level with her sex.

 

The sight of him on his knees, probably able to smell her arousal, made her lose her breath. She didn’t breathe again until he had peeled down her panties and put his mouth on her; then she gasped. It hissed loudly in the silent room.

 

He ate her out, hands gripping the flesh of her ass; Scully amazed that her legs kept her upright. It surprised her somewhat that he was a generous lover; he seemed so one-track minded. Boy, was she glad to discover this, though. He was really good at it—so good, in fact, that she came rather quickly.

 

His grin was back, she saw, when he stood up and took her face in his hands again. He kissed her and she tasted herself. Scully normally didn’t like when men did that, but from Mulder’s lips it was decadent; she pushed her tongue into his mouth.

 

Mulder walked them towards the bed, and laid her down. Breaking the kiss, he stood and looked at her naked body. She looked back at him with hooded eyes. He made a motion with his hand in a request for her to stay right where she was, and he picked up the candle and went into the bathroom.   

 

She heard him rummaging through his toiletry bag, most likely for a condom. What was she doing? He was her partner. Equal partners, yes, but he was the senior agent in their department of two. And she had just come against his mouth. I should go, Scully thought.

 

She didn’t go.

 

Mulder found the condom he had put in there ages ago for a just-in-case scenario. The need for it had never come up, and the only thing his dick had touched in over a year was his own hand. His cock grew harder at the anticipation of being inside Scully, her hot and wet pussy that he had just had the pleasure of tasting.

 

He came back into the room and was relieved that she was still there. A part of him thought she wouldn’t be. She had her arm draped over her eyes. He saw her take a deep breath and then she dropped her arm, looked at him, and propped herself up on her elbows.

 

Mulder unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down his legs, and stepped out of them. He could feel her eyes on his dick, and as he put the condom on he looked at her cunt. Her legs were slightly spread; the place he wanted to be shadowed between her thighs, the room still bathed in the soft candlelit glow.

 

He crawled on top of her, guiding his cock to the warmth of her center and slid into her in one slow thrust. The noise she made caused him to thrust again. She felt so good around his shaft—tight, a heavenly tightness that he hadn’t been able to detect with just his tongue.

 

Scully felt herself stretch, accommodating his hard girth. She bent her knees up on either side of him, allowing him to go deeper. Her eyes rolled back; her pussy tightened around him; she thought she might pass out. It had never felt this good before.   

 

Scully was about to moan Fox’s improbable first name but “Mulder” rolled off her tongue instead. He grunted, and then lowered his body down so he could kiss her as the movements of his hips sped up. Deep, firm thrusts from his tongue, from his dick. Scully felt like her body was going to burst into flames.

 

Mulder heard a crash of thunder and then Scully cry out loudly, her walls clamping around his length. One more pump into her spasming cunt, and he was coming, too, her name spilling from his mouth in a low, drawn out moan.

 

He pushed off her so as not to crush her with his weight, and laid beside her; their harsh breaths rasping, competing with the clamor of the downpour outside. They laid like that for awhile, only their forearms touching.    

 

Scully finally spoke, “I don’t think I’ll be putting this in my report.”

 

Mulder chuckled. He got up and retrieved her robe from the floor. He handed it to her as she sat up.

 

She had a shocked look on her face. “You want me to go?”

 

“Oh God, no,” he said quickly, realizing what she had inferred by the gesture. “Just for you to cover up. You have goosebumps.”

 

Scully rubbed her arms. She was cold, her temperature dropping after coming down from her climax, their sweat drying on her skin. She put the robe around her shoulders, pushing her arms through the sleeves.  

 

“I’d like you to stay.”