Mulder heard soft mewling through the adjoining door. Scully must have left it cracked open after she’d tossed a copy of the finalized X Files reassignment paperwork haphazardly across his bed.
Poking his head around the corner, he saw the silhouette of her spread out on her bed, her fiery hair draped across her pillow like flames licking the sheets.
As his eyes adjusted, he noticed pink, gumdrop nipples poking through her lacy bra and she was naked from the waist down. The triangled tuft of auburn hair did nothing to conceal perfection, her pussy slick and open—fucking stunning the air from his chest. She was fucking stunning. With fluttering eyes and the arching ivory column of her neck, she rolled her hips and Mulder white knuckled the door frame, nearly melting to the floor.
“Mm-Mul…” she gasped, reaching between her own legs to caress her inner thigh with one hand as the other circled her clit. He saw her vaginal muscles clench through the dim lighting as her fingers slipped through her wet folds. Watching Scully—his off limits best friend of six years, use her arousal to skate freely over her knotted bundle of nerves had distracted his body’s autonomic response to breathe.
Instantly, the blood from his head was sucked down to his cock and his knees bobbed. He couldn’t contain the drawn out hiss through his teeth and didn’t know which scared him more: her knowing he was watching, or her wishing he weren’t.
They were in partnership limbo, so to speak, and he was beginning to realize it only made him more desperate to finally love her with his body and not just his heart. His raging erection seeping precum through the silk of his boxers was sure as hell in agreement.
Mulder bit the back of his hand still holding onto the wooden frame as he dragged his fingers down the bared vee of his pelvis and into his boxers, giving his throbbing dick a few long pulls. His jaw dropped as she bit at her plump, rosebud lips and rocked her hips up into her palm while her heels dug into the mattress.
This was bad, wrong. Yet, much like the lingering looks they gave one another naked in the decontamination showers, it felt so fucking right.
“Fuck,” he mumbled softly into his wrist, losing all control of his inhibitions.
She moaned and darted her glazed over eyes at him, no doubtedly seeing the sorry sight of a guilty man caught gawking at his partner with his cock hanging halfway out of his underwear...
Scully had always fantasized about Mulder touching her when she touched herself. Him passionately making love to her, fucking her senseless. Him plunging hard and huge inside her, making her scream as she rode him into oblivion. Tonight was no different. Except this time, she had tried everything not to. And nothing had fucking worked… nothing ever would, she’d come to realize with stark reality as of late.
She would always want him to be her Mulder and no one else’s. And sometimes, like recently, she wasn’t the only woman to want that, too. That was one reason she was allowing him to watch her indulge. An excuse to let him watch her touch herself and see exactly what he was missing.
Scully dipped two fingers back within her and stifled a well-practiced chant of moaning her partner’s name. She knew he was watching before he even made a noise of shocked pleasure. She felt his familiar gaze on her body as she surrendered to her need to come with the image of his body claiming hers in her mind.
Shockingly, she hadn’t given a good goddamn her partner was watching her writhe with his name poised to fall off her tongue. She wanted him to see. She needed to see him wanting her, too.
Scully heard him gasp out a strangled “fuck,” and her cheek lolled against her shoulder just in time to watch his eyes roll as the large, flared head of his cock swelled under his grip. She whimpered at the sight of him she’d envisioned for years and strummed her fingers faster across her clit in desperation. His cock was massive for his frame and just the thought of him pushing it deep into her body, filling the emptiness she’d felt from him over the last few months sent a new wave of yearning crashing over her.
It was as suffocating as it was life-saving. Mulder had become the oxygen she needed to survive; and she hated him and herself for needing to breathe.
Hot tears welled while her gaze flicked between the black of his dilated eyes and his fist jerking up and down the mass of him. She was angry, so fucking angry at him. And hurt, she could admit, but it only made her want to fight harder to stay in love with him. Or fuck him, at this point. She didn’t know which she needed more.
Teasing her g-spot with her fingertips, she watched him through half-lidded eyes as he groaned, mouthing her name wordlessly while stroking his length like smooth velvet. Oh! She was so fucking close, and from Mulder’s raptured look begging her with hooded eyes, so was he.
Her thighs twitched with every pass over her swollen flesh and she fisted the bedsheets in frustration. “Ugh…” She was teetering over the edge of an extreme orgasm and knew Mulder’s presence was both helping and hindering her ability to tumble.
Relinquishing her last thread of self-control, Scully knew what she needed and beckoned him, reaching out with more than just her out-stretched hand, silently granting permission for Mulder to fall into the abyss alongside her.
At his guttural moan, Scully closed her eyes as her walls clenched around her fingers.
Mulder’s warm hand clasped onto hers and they both sighed in relief. His touch sent heat like a rising tide through her body, hardening her nipples, making her arms lax, and finally reaching her flushed face as she broke apart. Scully came so goddamn hard her back arched stiffly off the mattress as if electricity was shooting through her spine.
And maybe it did.
No words passed between them. Instead, ragged sighs and muffled moans replaced unspoken declarations.
As Mulder’s fingers laced through hers, the urge to shove him away, to kiss the hell out of him, and to tell him to get the fuck out slammed into her all at once. Yet, she couldn't do anything but stare breathlessly at his face as he gasped, squeezing her hand while the sound of his fist slapping against his pelvis filled the silence.
Scully was spiraling as her head fogged with endorphins and adrenaline; her ardor slowly trickling back as she watched that bottom lip of his tease the hell out of her. She wanted to both caress it with her tongue and bite it until he whimpered, forcing him to feel half the sting she felt after leaving the Gunmen’s lair that night.
Mulder felt his mouth fall open with a hitched groan, falling to his knees and looming closer over her face within the amber glow of the moon. Christ , she was so beautiful trembling and whimpering as she came apart in front of him.
Two rapid pumps later, Mulder felt his balls tighten as he came harder than he ever had, eyes locking with hers while he shook and spilled copiously over his fist.
“Scu…” he grunted the start of her name with ease, but swallowed the rest, feeling unworthy to do so as tears glistened beneath her lashes.
A sudden lump of emotion formed at the back of Scully’s throat and she cupped Mulder’s face without thought, choking back a sob. He furrowed his brow and reached for her. But by the time his fingertips grazed her cheekbone, she’d shoved the raw pain of it all back down deep inside herself.
Blinking back the rising tide, her palms drifted over his chest in one tender sweep before they came to a stop over his racing heart. “Goodnight, Mulder.”
Mulder shook his head, more confused than ever. “No, I… I’m afraid. I don’t like being afraid, Scully. Especially not with you.”
He watched her swallow and blink at the ceiling. “Then don’t be.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” he whispered bleakly, still searching for more air in his lungs. His penis began to soften and the detached mask Scully had just pulled over her face hurt like hell.
He didn’t want to hear her say anything that he’d heard in his nightmares where she voiced his own worst fears aloud. He didn’t want to have this conversation at all. He wanted to go back in time and make things right—make them right again. He wanted to hook his arms around her thighs and fuck her until she forgave him for ever trusting anyone but her.
The reality of what they’d just done seemed to hit them at the same moment. Mulder quickly untangled their fingers and fumbled with the tissue box on her night stand. Scully hurriedly draped the sheet back around her, leaving not an inch of skin exposed in the moonlit room. She averted her eyes, not feeling the least bit guilty as he cleaned up and awkwardly tucked himself back in his boxers.
“There’s no reason to make this personal,” she deadpanned.
Mulder chuckled darkly at that. “What else would you call this,” he wondered, waving a hand between their flushed and sated bodies. “This is pretty personal to me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Jesus, Scully...” He did know. He knew exactly what she meant and was clueless as to how to fix it. He could believe in the unseen, reach into the mind of a killer, wear the thick layer of guilt on his shoulders like a second skin, but couldn’t find a way to fix something he’d unintentionally broken—some one he loved more than he thought he deserved to. “I want…”
“Admit it, Mulder, you have no idea what you want,” she told him, shaking her head and slowly turning to face the wall away from him where her exposed heart wouldn’t show.
Mulder could take her words a number of ways, but she meant them exactly how they sounded: a blanket statement—an accusation that the brilliant man she’d fallen so desperately in love with over the years had utterly mindfucked them both simply by trusting someone she didn’t, tossing her opinion to the wayside.
Mulder held back angry tears as he shuffled weak-kneed across the room, dismissed and defeated with his dick stuck to his thigh. Fucking pathetic, he thought, stopping himself with a sigh before edging through the still open door. He wasn’t going to apologize for his past but he sure as hell wasn't going to give up, either.
“I can admit this, Scully. You’re the only person I want in my life, the only one I’ve wanted for years. And dammit, you are what’s personal to me.”
She choked back a relieved sigh and her chin quivered. They still shared a common personal ground, and they might eventually be able breathe together as one again.
His confession seemed like an acknowledgment of withheld feelings for her forced aloud by their shared yet separate release. Whether he truly meant them in the same intense, unplatonic way she did, that was enough for now.
It had to be.
There was no soft snick of the door when she felt the presence of him disappear. He’d left their adjoining gateway wide open. It was his silent plea to her loaded with desired implications. One she couldn’t help but appreciate through the ache in her heart.
Scully's breathing became deep and even, her thighs still thrumming from orgasm as she finally slipped into the comfort of darkness. She could still feel the warmth of Mulder's admission confessed through the open door lingering on her skin.