[ She's determined not to give up on conversation so easily. That is, however, easier said than done. Her eyes flutter shut a moment, though maybe she's just thinking hard. (She's not.) ]
That one-- the hysterical town.
[ Now she smiles again; the memory is a strange one but time's taken any sting out of the way she felt there. ]
And that blonde detective with the great ass, [ she adds, teasing. ]
[ But he doesn't mind being sidetracked while he fingers her, especially when she's so clearly enjoying herself. She's going to hold on until she can't think to speak anymore, and that means Mulder's going to have to put some effort in. But first, amused - ]
Detective White! [ Just for you, Scully, the name of a rival who wasn't. ] See, her, I remember. She just about ripped my clothes off and had her way with me. If you hadn't've come in, I would've had to fight her off myself.
[ Is that how it went? Decades later, he thinks it's probably close enough. ]
[ The human psyche is complicated. Even now she can't help a little flare of anger at the name, even though it means nothing-- even knowing it meant nothing at the time. Even with the very real evidence of him fucking her slowly with his clever fingers, there's something like an echo of jealousy-- and not entirely unpleasant, to be honest; it's a phantom pain that heightens her pleasure, a reminder of the delicious, insufferable tension of their partnership at the time. ]
I remember you going on about how good she smelled,
[ she counters, her eyes dark. She remembers him standing too close to her, the way it had made the hairs on her neck stand, the flood of intensity she couldn't make sense of. She'd wanted him and she'd hated him, in that strange little town.
She drags her hand down his neck, his chest, blindly trying to shove it between them to reach his cock. It's an awkward position but she wants to touch him, she doesn't care. ]
She really did. [ He remembers that, the way Scully'd just about pushed him up against a wall about it. How he'd fantasized after about Scully really giving in and going for it, proving to him exactly who he should be focusing on. ] But not nearly as good as you do.
[ He tilts his head so he can give her throat a demonstrative sniff. It's true, after all - and, more importantly, summoning up the ghosts of jealousies past requires summoning up everything that should have been said and wasn't. Especially if he's fingerbanging her at the time. Exorcising old daydreams, not to mention astrology-induced manias that didn't quite fit the people they were then. ]
Vermont was...you know what? [ A little sound like he's trying to suppress a groan, once her hand finds the cloth covering his erection. There's a conversation happening here, Fox. Focus. ] I don't think you were there. I think it was just me.
[ It's exactly the right thing to say, resolving the echo of silly jealousy with a swell of undeniable victory. She feels powerful and vindicated and wanted, making a needy little sound as he presses his face into her throat.
It probably goes without saying she'd fantasized about it-- watching, interrupting, throwing White to the floor and staking her own claim, furious and frenzied under ill stars. Hard to think any of that matters now, when she's clumsily stroking him through his boxers, when he doesn't want anyone but her. ]
I guess we can still count it, [ she reasons, practical but breathless, her hips rolling against him. After all, there were cases he didn't accompany her on-- though the less said about that the better. Thoughts of his death might spoil the mood. ] I'm sure there are places-- [ Is this pause for thought? Or it just, God, right there, like that-- until she blurts out-- ] Connecticut?
[ Skiing in Vermont, and then curling up in some picturesque cabin with a roaring fire and a bearskin rug - okay, screwing on the bearskin rug in the firelight - sounds pretty damned great, right about now. Even if he can't find a way to make the American taxpayer cover it, Mulder likes the idea.
God, right there, like that. He curls his fingers inside her, pressing against her walls and dragging down toward her entrance. ]
We must've driven through Connecticut a million times. Every time we went anywhere north of it. [ And now that he's down at her neck, he kisses her there, teeth grazing her skin. ] You went to Maine without me.
[ She can't control the deep, husky note creeping into her voice, or the sigh of pleasure that follows her words as he moves inside her. That's what people go to Vermont for, right? And buying maple syrup. ]
I'm not sure... driving through counts. [ She laughs softly, half at the thought, mostly just suffused with the joy of the moment. ]
I tried to go on vacation. I don't know if that counts either.
You really want to stay in Connecticut? [ Another nip to her skin, leaning his hand a little more heavily against her clit as he fucks her. ] It's the highway rest stop of US states. Pale shadow of Massachusetts.
[ Not that he's biased or anything. Frankly, mainland Massachusetts is a little too Boston-focused for him to truly love it, but at least Boston has character. What is there to say about Hartford? ]
You went to Maine without me. [ Reiterated, because it's the principle of the thing. God, he was bored half to death that weekend. Teasing - ] What's it matter if it was a real case or not?
[ He's working hard to ruin what's left of her composure. And it's working, at least mostly-- her cheeks are flushed, her nipples tight buds, her eyes fluttering closed as she arches her back, seeking more-- more contact, more of him, more of everything. ]
You can't count it as a case if it wasn't a case.
[ Should it have been one? Probably. But that's not the point. ]
Wasn't much of a vacation, either.
[ She pauses her strokes, just long enough to drag her hand up and back under the waistband, her skin soft and warm against him without the layer of fabric between. ]
[ Look, there's something about her hand - just her hand, nothing to bar him from those delicate fingers - that can make his brain stop for a second or two. Longer than that, and it takes a little more work, but for a moment, he just luxuriates in her touch, his fingers stilling inside her.
She's so good. And she's good to him, even if she left him behind for a vacation straight out of a Stephen King novel a few decades ago. ]
You know, as much as I always appreciate a hand job from a beautiful woman on a nice afternoon, I'm not sure we want to waste this erection on an under-the-pants experience. Feels very furtive.
[ Again, she laughs at the argument, feeling victorious that she's managed to interrupt it. That counts as her winning, not that it matters, because deep down she's coming around to the idea of quitting. Or at least taking a very long sabbatical; who knows what the world will look like when their daughter is off to school?
She manages to surge up to give him a quick kiss, not lingering only because the position's hard to hold. It's just so good to be able to do that whenever she wants to, without worrying who will see, what they'll think, whether it will be used against them. Whether he'll get the wrong idea. Because the right idea, finally, is a plan they've made and committed to together, symbolized in the swell of her belly and the ease of their smiles. ]
It would be a shame, [ she agrees sweetly, slowly withdrawing her hand. ] What did you have in mind?
[ Hypocrisy, thy name is Mulder - after suggesting she stop touching him, and what a pity it is to feel her let him go, he's still idly pressing the heel of his hand against her clit, fingers at rest inside her like that's their home. He's not quite willing to break contact yet, not without a backup plan already in place.
And in this case, he's not sure he's the right architect for it. He's been a control freak about the nursery for weeks now, he's the one that dragged them both out here. At the moment, he wants to stretch out in the sunshine and be in charge of nothing, just for the next hour or so. ]
She hums thoughtfully, looking him over. Under other circumstances she might draw it out more, but he's not the only one who's swiftly forgetting practical conversation. ]
You have to get me out of these, first, [ she demands, smoothing her fingers over the waistband of her panties. ]
[ It's especially her plaything right now, when he's inclined to let her do with him whatever she pleases. There are occasions when he's at the wheel, so to speak, getting Scully to unwind, one kiss at a time. And then there's an afternoon like this.
He tugs her panties down her legs, flinging them out into the field for good measure. Post-orgasm, he'll go looking for them, probably. ]
[ Once she has him on her back, she can take care of the rest, she figures. She gives him a light shove, and assuming he rolls obligingly onto his back, she pushes up onto her knees to loom over him, grabbing his boxers by the waistband and dragging them down.
On her knees, hunched over him, she gives his cock a slow, considering stroke, eyes fixe on his face. ]
[ Mulder has every reason to be obliging and no reason to resist. He even lifts his hips a little, making it easier to denude him. She's got his attention, his gaze intense and hungry on hers. ]
I imagine it's a little different. I'm not nearly as nice to them, for starters.
[ Teasingly, she strokes again as she straightens up, swinging her leg so she's straddling his knees. Like this, the changes to her body are unmistakable; the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her stomach.
Her hand comes off him as she leans forward to kiss him, unhurried and passionate, crouched over him so their bodies almost-- but don't quite-- touch. ]
[ Like this, she's gorgeous, the embodiment of all those Renaissance paintings of soft-bellied women with flowing hair and graceful arms. There's a comparison to make with Mary, of course, or maybe Venus on the half shell. ]
Probably aren't quite as happy to see you, either.
[ Aside from the ones with death erections. He's seen a few of those in his time - unfortunately, for both him and the corpses.
He luxuriates in the opportunity to touch her as she kisses him, hands at her hip and her breast, hips straining up towards hers. The rules here are that Scully's running the show, sure, but Mulder's pretty sure this could be considered torture under the Geneva Convention. ]
[ Her smile is sly, but impossibly fond; her hair falls in a curtain around them, giving some illusion of privacy. The sun is on her back, the heat of Mulder underneath her, and it's as close to perfect as anything could be.
She pushes up and shifts close; as much fun as it is to tease, she's a little frantic with wanting him. Hormones, probably. Or maybe Agent Scully is, in fact, in love.
And so she wastes no time, moving to align them so she can sink down onto his cock with a sigh somewhere between pleasure and relief.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That one-- the hysterical town.
[ Now she smiles again; the memory is a strange one but time's taken any sting out of the way she felt there. ]
And that blonde detective with the great ass, [ she adds, teasing. ]
no subject
[ But he doesn't mind being sidetracked while he fingers her, especially when she's so clearly enjoying herself. She's going to hold on until she can't think to speak anymore, and that means Mulder's going to have to put some effort in. But first, amused - ]
Detective White! [ Just for you, Scully, the name of a rival who wasn't. ] See, her, I remember. She just about ripped my clothes off and had her way with me. If you hadn't've come in, I would've had to fight her off myself.
[ Is that how it went? Decades later, he thinks it's probably close enough. ]
no subject
I remember you going on about how good she smelled,
[ she counters, her eyes dark. She remembers him standing too close to her, the way it had made the hairs on her neck stand, the flood of intensity she couldn't make sense of. She'd wanted him and she'd hated him, in that strange little town.
She drags her hand down his neck, his chest, blindly trying to shove it between them to reach his cock. It's an awkward position but she wants to touch him, she doesn't care. ]
But I don't remember Vermont.
no subject
[ He tilts his head so he can give her throat a demonstrative sniff. It's true, after all - and, more importantly, summoning up the ghosts of jealousies past requires summoning up everything that should have been said and wasn't. Especially if he's fingerbanging her at the time. Exorcising old daydreams, not to mention astrology-induced manias that didn't quite fit the people they were then. ]
Vermont was...you know what? [ A little sound like he's trying to suppress a groan, once her hand finds the cloth covering his erection. There's a conversation happening here, Fox. Focus. ] I don't think you were there. I think it was just me.
no subject
It probably goes without saying she'd fantasized about it-- watching, interrupting, throwing White to the floor and staking her own claim, furious and frenzied under ill stars. Hard to think any of that matters now, when she's clumsily stroking him through his boxers, when he doesn't want anyone but her. ]
I guess we can still count it, [ she reasons, practical but breathless, her hips rolling against him. After all, there were cases he didn't accompany her on-- though the less said about that the better. Thoughts of his death might spoil the mood. ] I'm sure there are places-- [ Is this pause for thought? Or it just, God, right there, like that-- until she blurts out-- ] Connecticut?
no subject
[ Skiing in Vermont, and then curling up in some picturesque cabin with a roaring fire and a bearskin rug - okay, screwing on the bearskin rug in the firelight - sounds pretty damned great, right about now. Even if he can't find a way to make the American taxpayer cover it, Mulder likes the idea.
God, right there, like that. He curls his fingers inside her, pressing against her walls and dragging down toward her entrance. ]
We must've driven through Connecticut a million times. Every time we went anywhere north of it. [ And now that he's down at her neck, he kisses her there, teeth grazing her skin. ] You went to Maine without me.
no subject
[ She can't control the deep, husky note creeping into her voice, or the sigh of pleasure that follows her words as he moves inside her. That's what people go to Vermont for, right? And buying maple syrup. ]
I'm not sure... driving through counts. [ She laughs softly, half at the thought, mostly just suffused with the joy of the moment. ]
I tried to go on vacation. I don't know if that counts either.
no subject
[ Not that he's biased or anything. Frankly, mainland Massachusetts is a little too Boston-focused for him to truly love it, but at least Boston has character. What is there to say about Hartford? ]
You went to Maine without me. [ Reiterated, because it's the principle of the thing. God, he was bored half to death that weekend. Teasing - ] What's it matter if it was a real case or not?
no subject
You can't count it as a case if it wasn't a case.
[ Should it have been one? Probably. But that's not the point. ]
Wasn't much of a vacation, either.
[ She pauses her strokes, just long enough to drag her hand up and back under the waistband, her skin soft and warm against him without the layer of fabric between. ]
no subject
[ Look, there's something about her hand - just her hand, nothing to bar him from those delicate fingers - that can make his brain stop for a second or two. Longer than that, and it takes a little more work, but for a moment, he just luxuriates in her touch, his fingers stilling inside her.
She's so good. And she's good to him, even if she left him behind for a vacation straight out of a Stephen King novel a few decades ago. ]
You know, as much as I always appreciate a hand job from a beautiful woman on a nice afternoon, I'm not sure we want to waste this erection on an under-the-pants experience. Feels very furtive.
no subject
She manages to surge up to give him a quick kiss, not lingering only because the position's hard to hold. It's just so good to be able to do that whenever she wants to, without worrying who will see, what they'll think, whether it will be used against them. Whether he'll get the wrong idea. Because the right idea, finally, is a plan they've made and committed to together, symbolized in the swell of her belly and the ease of their smiles. ]
It would be a shame, [ she agrees sweetly, slowly withdrawing her hand. ] What did you have in mind?
no subject
[ Hypocrisy, thy name is Mulder - after suggesting she stop touching him, and what a pity it is to feel her let him go, he's still idly pressing the heel of his hand against her clit, fingers at rest inside her like that's their home. He's not quite willing to break contact yet, not without a backup plan already in place.
And in this case, he's not sure he's the right architect for it. He's been a control freak about the nursery for weeks now, he's the one that dragged them both out here. At the moment, he wants to stretch out in the sunshine and be in charge of nothing, just for the next hour or so. ]
Surprise me, Scully. My body is your plaything.
no subject
She hums thoughtfully, looking him over. Under other circumstances she might draw it out more, but he's not the only one who's swiftly forgetting practical conversation. ]
You have to get me out of these, first, [ she demands, smoothing her fingers over the waistband of her panties. ]
no subject
[ It's especially her plaything right now, when he's inclined to let her do with him whatever she pleases. There are occasions when he's at the wheel, so to speak, getting Scully to unwind, one kiss at a time. And then there's an afternoon like this.
He tugs her panties down her legs, flinging them out into the field for good measure. Post-orgasm, he'll go looking for them, probably. ]
What about mine? On or off?
no subject
[ Once she has him on her back, she can take care of the rest, she figures. She gives him a light shove, and assuming he rolls obligingly onto his back, she pushes up onto her knees to loom over him, grabbing his boxers by the waistband and dragging them down.
On her knees, hunched over him, she gives his cock a slow, considering stroke, eyes fixe on his face. ]
no subject
Think this is how your cadavers feel?
no subject
I imagine it's a little different. I'm not nearly as nice to them, for starters.
[ Teasingly, she strokes again as she straightens up, swinging her leg so she's straddling his knees. Like this, the changes to her body are unmistakable; the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her stomach.
Her hand comes off him as she leans forward to kiss him, unhurried and passionate, crouched over him so their bodies almost-- but don't quite-- touch. ]
no subject
Probably aren't quite as happy to see you, either.
[ Aside from the ones with death erections. He's seen a few of those in his time - unfortunately, for both him and the corpses.
He luxuriates in the opportunity to touch her as she kisses him, hands at her hip and her breast, hips straining up towards hers. The rules here are that Scully's running the show, sure, but Mulder's pretty sure this could be considered torture under the Geneva Convention. ]
no subject
[ Her smile is sly, but impossibly fond; her hair falls in a curtain around them, giving some illusion of privacy. The sun is on her back, the heat of Mulder underneath her, and it's as close to perfect as anything could be.
She pushes up and shifts close; as much fun as it is to tease, she's a little frantic with wanting him. Hormones, probably. Or maybe Agent Scully is, in fact, in love.
And so she wastes no time, moving to align them so she can sink down onto his cock with a sigh somewhere between pleasure and relief.]