[ And at this point, he knows her so well that putting on a show could be as simple as tipping her head at the right angle; it doesn't take much to get him going, and if the bulge in his boxers is anything to go by, she's got him going.
(It's what she says, as much as anything else. The things she murmurs for him alone are usually guaranteed to catch his interest, whether it lands at his dick or lodges somewhere closer to his heart.) ]
How many more can we possibly have? [ He tweaks her nipple lightly. ] What if Hawaii's it?
[ It's not like he can't do the same thing to her-- a glance across the room, or even a shift in the way he stands beside her, inviting her to lean in against him. Her legs shift subtly, a hint of restlessness as her body responds to his touch. ]
There have to be other places. [ She threads her hand through his hair again, and though her tone is all business, the way she looks at him is hungry. ] At least, I think. I'm surprised you never made a map.
[ All business as well, his hand wandering down her side. He's curious how long Scully can keep this veneer of professionalism up, whether it'll shift as soon as he slips a hand into her panties, or if it'll take some actual work on his part. Down to her hip, massaging over the flesh there, thumb pressing lightly against her pelvis. ]
Name a state, and I'll tell you what we did there.
[ The answer's easy: she'll keep it up until it stops being fun.
At least that's what she thinks; even after all these years he surprises her, and lately she's been more sensitive than ever; it's possible he'll prove an effective distraction.
She answers with a curl of a smile-- intentionally picking a state she knows the answer to. One of several answers, probably, but given how they're occupied she suspects he'll catch her drift. ]
[ He gets where she's going - or thinks he does, anyway. Hand moving along her panties, enjoying the silkiness of the fabric as he strokes it over her mound, Mulder gives her an amused look. ]
How could I forget your stint as a dating guru? And those storms.
[ Does she believe the weather reflected a man's tumultuous, thwarted feelings?
She at least thinks she understands something of it. Love that is a force of nature. Desire that moves mountains. The two of them together have created life-- what's a bit of hail in comparison to that? ]
[ He has to think about this one - but he's going to do it with a hand down her pants, because of course he is. Two of his fingers delve into her pussy, his smile growing a little more wolfish when he finds her flesh already damp. He's hardly touched her, and she feels amazing. ]
We must've gone to Vermont. I know there was a case there.
[ There was a time when she would've worried this made for weird dirty talk. One of the blessings of age; she's given up that kind of self-consciousness, for the most part. Her grin widens, her legs spreading a little to give him more space. ]
A bird? I don't remember that.
[ Mulder knows just how to touch her; he always has, or maybe it's just that he can't go wrong, or some combination of both. She doesn't really try to hold back a sigh of pleasure as he sinks his fingers into her.
Angled like this she can't really return the favor, but she keeps playing with his hair. ]
[ To the contrary, this is some of the hottest dirty talk that might be possible. Mulder's into it, especially the grin she gives him. ]
Yeah.
[ Somehow, his fingers finding her clit helps him remember. He can't even use muscle memory as an excuse, because he's pretty sure they weren't fucking at that point. Were they? He'd have to dig up the X-file to know for sure. ]
There was a demonic entity that came through mirrors. Glass - anything with a reflection. Remember?
[ Fuck, he's so good at that. It has to be more than just practice. It's only fitting that Spooky Mulder have at least one preternaturally sharp skill. ]
I don't remember,
[ she murmurs, surprised at it. She doesn't have his photographic recall, but-- well, most of their cases are pretty memorable. At the least she should remember arguing about demonic entities in mirrors. ]
I remember a mirror exploding in-- I think, New Hampshire?
[ Not Vermont. Decidedly not Vermont. Two fingers sliding inside her, easy as anything. If he could choose one ability to be absolutely superhuman at, fucking Dana Scully probably wouldn't be his first option, but he's not about to complain about the results here. ]
Which one was that? Was that the time with the girls' birthday?
[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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(It's what she says, as much as anything else. The things she murmurs for him alone are usually guaranteed to catch his interest, whether it lands at his dick or lodges somewhere closer to his heart.) ]
How many more can we possibly have? [ He tweaks her nipple lightly. ] What if Hawaii's it?
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There have to be other places. [ She threads her hand through his hair again, and though her tone is all business, the way she looks at him is hungry. ] At least, I think. I'm surprised you never made a map.
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[ All business as well, his hand wandering down her side. He's curious how long Scully can keep this veneer of professionalism up, whether it'll shift as soon as he slips a hand into her panties, or if it'll take some actual work on his part. Down to her hip, massaging over the flesh there, thumb pressing lightly against her pelvis. ]
Name a state, and I'll tell you what we did there.
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At least that's what she thinks; even after all these years he surprises her, and lately she's been more sensitive than ever; it's possible he'll prove an effective distraction.
She answers with a curl of a smile-- intentionally picking a state she knows the answer to. One of several answers, probably, but given how they're occupied she suspects he'll catch her drift. ]
Kansas.
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Don't tell me you forgot the Rain King.
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[ Does she believe the weather reflected a man's tumultuous, thwarted feelings?
She at least thinks she understands something of it. Love that is a force of nature. Desire that moves mountains. The two of them together have created life-- what's a bit of hail in comparison to that? ]
What about.. hmn, Vermont?
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[ He has to think about this one - but he's going to do it with a hand down her pants, because of course he is. Two of his fingers delve into her pussy, his smile growing a little more wolfish when he finds her flesh already damp. He's hardly touched her, and she feels amazing. ]
We must've gone to Vermont. I know there was a case there.
[ Damn, what was it? ]
Something about a bird?
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A bird? I don't remember that.
[ Mulder knows just how to touch her; he always has, or maybe it's just that he can't go wrong, or some combination of both. She doesn't really try to hold back a sigh of pleasure as he sinks his fingers into her.
Angled like this she can't really return the favor, but she keeps playing with his hair. ]
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Yeah.
[ Somehow, his fingers finding her clit helps him remember. He can't even use muscle memory as an excuse, because he's pretty sure they weren't fucking at that point. Were they? He'd have to dig up the X-file to know for sure. ]
There was a demonic entity that came through mirrors. Glass - anything with a reflection. Remember?
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I don't remember,
[ she murmurs, surprised at it. She doesn't have his photographic recall, but-- well, most of their cases are pretty memorable. At the least she should remember arguing about demonic entities in mirrors. ]
I remember a mirror exploding in-- I think, New Hampshire?
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[ Not Vermont. Decidedly not Vermont. Two fingers sliding inside her, easy as anything. If he could choose one ability to be absolutely superhuman at, fucking Dana Scully probably wouldn't be his first option, but he's not about to complain about the results here. ]
Which one was that? Was that the time with the girls' birthday?
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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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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.
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[ 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.
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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?
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[ 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.
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[ 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.
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[ 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?
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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. ]
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[ 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.
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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?
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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[ 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?
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