Classics become classics for a reason; his instinct is perhaps the obvious one, but it's the right one.
"I could ask for anything," she agrees. And yes-- all she wants is him.
Mulder knows her better than anyone-- she's never let anyone else know her so well. That's at least half the reason he's so good at this. The rest, probably, can be chalked up to oral fixations and a tendency towards obsessive perfectionism. There's no need, really, to get specific; it's enough to say, with well-tested certainty, that no one eats pussy like Fox Mulder. (So; why should she want anything else, at least in this moment-- fond and drowsy and back in their shared bed, after a night of inexplicable dangers. It's a lot like the old days. Horny nostalgia, the secret silver lining to growing old, together or apart.)
The hand not tangled in his hair pushes at the waistband of her panties-- not that she's eager or anything. Her grip tightens a little; not quite pulling (yet), but none too gentle.
no subject
"I could ask for anything," she agrees. And yes-- all she wants is him.
Mulder knows her better than anyone-- she's never let anyone else know her so well. That's at least half the reason he's so good at this. The rest, probably, can be chalked up to oral fixations and a tendency towards obsessive perfectionism. There's no need, really, to get specific; it's enough to say, with well-tested certainty, that no one eats pussy like Fox Mulder. (So; why should she want anything else, at least in this moment-- fond and drowsy and back in their shared bed, after a night of inexplicable dangers. It's a lot like the old days. Horny nostalgia, the secret silver lining to growing old, together or apart.)
The hand not tangled in his hair pushes at the waistband of her panties-- not that she's eager or anything. Her grip tightens a little; not quite pulling (yet), but none too gentle.