Hyperventilation bordering on tachypnea but fuck it feels good. Cheeks and chest flushed, carotid artery open wide, blood flowing to her brain like a river of love. Mulder moans above her, the sound so sharp it slices the air. His rhythmical movements slide her lower body up then down the desk surface and if she weren’t so fucking aroused the chafing would graze. She lets her knees fall further apart and mentally notes the muscle groups she’s exercising. She read an article in a magazine recently, in the physio’s waiting room, that outlined the benefits for the spine of hanging upside down. Improved balance, core strength, flexibility, joint health. A miracle treatment for menopausal women. She gasps as Mulder shifts, finds the sweet spot. He groans, she responds in kind. So close.
She can’t see his face, but can imagine the veins on his temple rigid, the purse of his lips, the flare of his nostril, the lines across his forehead, more years of sexual concentration resulting in orgasm have left them deep enough for her to run the tip of her tongue through, but that will have to wait.
Her hair is cascading below her. Or is it above her? There’s no way he can grab it and pull from this angle but she reaches an arm back and the stretch in her spine and shoulders increases as she coils it in a loop around her wrist, the soft silky feel of it adding to the visceral pleasure of the moment. A pile of papers flutters to the floor. Mulder grunts, speeds up. Intensity builds, filling her until she’s utterly swollen with need.
Her head knocks against the back of the desk but it serves only to punctuate each thrust. Her climax is maddeningly slow, coiling through her body cell by cell as Mulder’s pace steadies, his breathing catches and he bursts into her. She implodes then, legs quivering, toes tingling, jaw taut. Stars sparkle behind her eyes.
Mulder pulls on her wrists but she wriggles them free, mumbling that she needs time to recover. The removal of his weight leaves her cool, loose. The skin across her abdomen stipples where her blouse has come untucked. Her skirt is rucked up over her thighs and she tugs it down as Mulder chuckles.
“You need any help, Scully?”
“I can dress myself,” she says, her voice is thick, slow.
Her pulse echoes in her ears. She knows if she sits up too quickly the drop in blood pressure may cause fainting.
“I love it when you talk dirty, Scully.”
She kicks a foot out but swipes nothing but empty air. He laughs, grabs her foot, presses it to his abdomen and rubs it gently. Her hands grasp the edge of the desk and she slides herself up, along. Mulder braces her legs around his hips and when her head is on the surface, he leans over her, peppering her face with feverish kisses.
“If you’d have told me twenty-five years ago that doing the filing turned you on this much, Scully, imagine how different our time in the basement could have been.”
Nerves spark back into life, one spinal knot at a time. Using the end of his tie as purchase, she sits up, squeezes her eyes shut against the vague ache of the blood draining from her head.
“Okay?” he asks, bringing an elbow around her neck as he joins her on the desk.
“Hm-mm.” Her head nestles into his arm, their thighs pressed together. “Feels good.”
“Doesn’t it?” he laughs, then adds as he cricks his neck. “Apart from the creaks and groans of old bones.”
“You should try spinal suspension some time, Mulder. There are a host of health and wellbeing benefits.”
“Hm-mm.” She begins to massage the mass of twisted muscle around his shoulders.
He sighs appreciatively. “Tell me more. Ow.”
Her fingers dig in deep. “Aside from the muscle realignments and improvements in blood circulation, the lymphatic system benefits from speedier drainage, skin can become clearer, the appearance of wrinkles improves.”
“What are you implying, Scully?”
She giggles as she stands up. He does too and loops his arms around her. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she listens to his heartbeat and feels a surge of love.
“There’s also evidence that the decompression can lead to people getting taller.”
He stoops to kiss the top of her head. There’s a crack in his neck as he bends lower. “I want to believe, Scully, but we might have to work on that last one a bit more often before we see the results.”