From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2009 03:07:57 -0600 (CST)
Subject: Night Moves 1/1 NC-17 by Danguinarium
Source: direct

Reply To: dreamfish@live.com


Title: Night Moves
Author: Danguinarium
Rated: NC-17
Keywords: MSR
Spoilers: Season 5
Disclaimer: Yeah right. Like I'd EVER own them. 
Notes: Little plot, much lovin' 

=+=+=+=+=

Scully possesses a certain type of atypical beauty that
can often be overlooked. Days melt into weeks and she
remains ever presently my composed companion. It is too
easy to let her fade into the milieu of the investigation
currently holding our attention. 

At a time most unusual, a moment will occur to remind me
that my partner is in fact a beautifully lonely woman. The
present is no exception; it is three o'clock in the
morning. We find ourselves yet again lingering in a dimly
lit hospital lab. She appears to me as a saint, bathed in
the white glow of the x-ray viewing screen. 

Her angular face is tilted upward in prayer to her
science, the shadows shifting over her jaw and intelligence
shining brightly from her compelling blue eyes. Her lips
part slightly as they always do when she's deep in
concentration and I am lost in the vision. Nothing could
burn the image of her face from my mind. It is as familiar
to me as my own. 

Whether fatigue has caused me to become careless or I was
simply too preoccupied to notice, she has turned to say
something and found me staring. My eyes pull away clumsily
and I am surprised to feel self-conscious. When I glance up
at her again she is staring at me questioningly, right
eyebrow elevated slightly. She wants to know what's going
on with me. "Are you okay Mulder?" 

I nod and present her a diminutive smirk. "I think I need
a driver reviver. I'm falling asleep behind the wheel here
Scully." She looks suitably surprised, as I knew she would.
It's not often that I give in and volunteer to clock off
during an investigation. Her surprise morphs into relief
and she presses a hand to the back of her neck, a soft moan
blossoming before her words. "I wont argue with that. Let's
go home."

It must be the late hour because she buys it hook line and
sinker and takes a few minutes to pack away her paperwork
and gather her belongings. Once we have shrugged into our
coats I hit the lights and she softly closes the door
behind us. I gesture for her to continue on ahead and my
hand gravitates to her lower back as we head toward the
elevator. My hands have been itching for contact tonight. I
know this is the only gesture I can get away with without
acting inappropriately.

I suppose she might find it amusing if she knew how many
times we wrapped up the day each going in our separate
directions with me wishing that I could turn the car around
and follow her home. I don't think she has the faintest
idea about how often I imagine such things. 

Such things indicate to me the awakening of my
territorialism. It wants my car in her parking space, my
presence in her home, my scent on her pillows, my body in
hers. It has been silently urging me tonight with a
persistence that is growing at an alarming rate. Somehow I
manage to survive the elevator ride and journey to the car.
The drive back to Hoover to retrieve her car is going to be
tense in more ways than one.

As she buckles herself in securely I notice that the belt
has trapped one side of her blouse and the top of one
creamy breast is revealed sitting delicately in the cup of
her white satin bra. The opportunity simply cannot be
allowed to slip by and I find myself foolishly agreeing as
I reach over and pinch the soft material of her blouse
between my thumb and finger. Her eyes lock onto my hand and
the scrutiny causes me to tremble slightly. 

My knuckles scrape the soft skin of her breast as I gently
tug the material free of the seatbelt and back into its
rightful place. I could be experiencing an auditory
hallucination but I am sure I hear her hiss at the contact.
In any case her eyes have found mine, and all previous
thought has flown from my mind. I am not sure how long we
sit there with my hand hovering
over her chest but she clears her throat and the spell is
broken. 

My hand ends up cupping the car keys, instead of her
breast, as I start the car and try to clear my head for the
journey home. I can feel her watching me curiously out of
the corner of her eye. Scully always knows when something
is up with me; she's just trying to figure out what it is.
It all comes down to the simple matter of whether I will
allow her to or not.

She doesn't speak the entire way, content to drift
silently in her pre dawn thoughts. I am not troubled by her
silence, quite the opposite actually. It allows me to
concentrate on my own thoughts. I'm not sure what to do
about these feelings that have been making themselves known
quite forcefully lately. In one way or another they have
always been there, steadily growing while my attention was
diverted. Her battle with cancer forced me to examine them
more closely than I ever cared to and I have mixed emotions
about what I found.

It's not a question of loving her because I do. There has
never been any doubt about that. It's a question of which
way I will allow myself to love her. Scully has no
definition, she already fills so many previously empty
slots in my heart that it would be useless to try and label
her. She refers to herself as my friend but it always
sounds so false when I hear it. It's almost as if she has
no word to define what we are so she uses the first neutral
word that comes to mind. 

If we were to become lovers she would inevitably be
labeled; 'Everything.' This is what terrifies me. If she
were to leave me now I would stand to lose a great deal. If
she were to leave me post intimacy I would lose everything.
I know my track record; I'm not good at relationships. I
would spend too much time focusing on the work instead of
her and from my experience with women not focusing on them
is a big mistake if you want them to stick around. It's not
rocket science, I guess that the work always offered me
more passion and stimulation than a woman ever could.

This is where Scully is different. Although I sometimes
like to remind her that the x-files are my life and my work
and she's just a long for the ride, I have been coming to
realize that she has just as much at stake in this as I do.
In one way she is the work and the work is in her. By my
warped logic that means having an intimate relationship
with Scully might be successful. As perverse as it is I
have only ever been able to commit long term to my work,
seeing as how Scully is 'the work' theoretically all of my
feelings would then extend to her. My feelings for her
outside of the work would blend in and we would form some
kind of unholy trinity; Me, Scully and The X-Files. I'm a
fool to think she would be happy with this.

If she were to leave, the work would inevitably change and
in effect possibly my attitude toward the work and my life.
It is all so frustrating. We let this thing between us grow
and grow like a massive pink elephant until the room is
left bursting at the seams and yet we still do not
acknowledge it. I've got years of pondering and
interpreting and analyzing this relationship under my belt
and to be honest I think it has finally driven me crazy. 

I am still mentally miles away when I pull into the empty
space next to her car at the Hoover building. I must have
sat there staring at her car for longer than what was
necessary. Her hand suddenly on my knee snaps me back into
reality and I look over at her. She appears concerned.
"Mulder you're a bit out of it tonight. Are you sure you're
okay?" Her hand lifts from my knee to press against my
forehead and I gently curl my fingers around her wrist and
pull it away.

"I'm fine Doctor Scully. Just thinking about the case."

I didn't mean to project warning in my tone but the growl
was unmistakable. Her eyes narrow and she studies me a
moment or two longer before relenting. "Get some sleep.
Thanks for the ride, I'll see you tomorrow." I release her
wrist and nod. "Have a good night Scully." With a click and
a thud she's out of the car. She's not even out of my line
of sight yet and I miss her already. I watch her unlock her
door and slide in. She offers me a little wave, which I
return and then she's gone. Just like that.

To hell with it. Chances are supposed to be taken, rules
were meant to be broken and this woman hasn't been loved in
a long time. I spend so much time worrying about it that I
forget one thing; she is my one in five billion and she
wont let me down. I think I've finally reached the end of
my tether. I don't care if it's almost four o'clock in the
morning. I'm going to make this happen,

And I have a plan.

=+=+=+=+=

Since I left Mulder behind in the parking garage I have
been dreaming, no scratch that, fantasizing about a hot,
steamy, soapy shower. All I want to do is wash away the
grime and sweat of the long day we've just had and crawl
into bed. I don't want to think about Mulder's odd behavior
because frankly, his behavior is odd most of the time and
tonight I don't have the energy to care.

I put the whole incident with the blouse and the seatbelt
down to fatigue. He saw something that needed to be fixed
so he fixed it, without thinking about the implications of
his hand on my breast. It was all very innocent. Denial
comes most easily for me when I'm tired. It is much easier
to succumb to it than admit to the fact that if Mulder's
hand was on my breast, it's because he wanted it there.

I am not going to fixate on this. Many hands have touched
many breasts throughout the ages. There is nothing special
about Mulder's hands or my breasts. I have a particularly
hard time convincing myself of this in the shower. Beneath
the hot spray and slippery lather my nipples have
tightened, the surrounding tissue growing tender and
swollen. If only he were here now, he would do so much more
than fleetingly brush them with his knuckles.

Such thoughts aren't going to accomplish much other than
keeping me awake when what I really want to do is rinse
away the soap and shampoo, get dry and land in bed for at
least 4 hours. It turns out that tonight isn't going to be
my lucky night. I heard a thump coming from somewhere
inside my apartment. It was loud enough to be audible to me
over the din of the shower. 

My guess is that it was the front door slamming shut. When
I leave the window across the living room open it creates
an air current that is powerful enough slam the door closed
if opened. This has taken my mother by surprise when she
has taken her hand off the door momentarily.

Whoever is in my apartment has been sprung. I turn off the
water as I slip out of the shower. I very hastily towel
off, shrug into my robe and tie the sash haphazardly. I
realize that I probably look absurd with half the robe
hanging off one shoulder and my left leg fully exposed, but
at least the main bits are covered. That's all I care about.

My gun is resting on the edge of the sink and I send up a
quick prayer as I slide it comfortably into my hand. My
friend and I can take care of this little job. Piece of
cake. 

Breathe - breathe - breathe.

One.. Two.. Three. 

I'm out into the bedroom having cleared it in a deep
swoop. No immediate danger. Right I can relax now. I'm in
control. I edge over to the bedroom door, keeping my back
to the wall and my movements as smooth and silent as
possible. I brace myself for another entrance, peeking my
head around the edge of the doorway I see a figure bent
over the coffee table.

My heart is pounding as I close my eyes and get ready for
action. Every muscle in my body tenses as I launch myself
out of the bedroom and into the living room. When I find
myself stationary my knees are bent slightly, arms straight
out in front of me and gun pointing right at Mulder's chest.

Mulder?

"Mulder? Geez! You almost gave me a heart attack."

I'm not lying, my heart is hammering against my ribcage,
the rush of adrenalin is causing my legs to liquefy. I feel
like I'm standing on rubber as he straightens to completely
face me. His smirk fades and he is instantly preoccupied.
It honestly takes me a good ten seconds to work out what
he's staring at. I look down when I realize it's me. 

Oh that's right I'm all Charlie's Angels tonight with my
silky robe strategically draped over my body to accentuate..
pretty much everything. 

This piece of boring bed wear has never looked so good.
There is something brewing tonight. I can feel it.
Everything is a little edgy, maybe it's the fatigue but the
night has taken on the thrilling quality of fine sandpaper
scraped teasingly over soft skin. 

The image of that instantly causes another image to come
to mind, one where Mulder's heavily stubbled cheek drags
against my sensitive inner thigh as he makes his way to our
mutually desired location. 

"Scully are you gonna point that thing away from me?"

I drop the gun onto the couch and give myself a mental
shake. His voice brought me back to reality, out of the
insular little paradise I had stumbled upon when his eyes
were busy studying my body. 

"What are you doing here Mulder?" I don't mean for the
question to come out so harshly but it's too late now and I
am a little pissed off so I don't bother trying to soften
the blow. His next statement serves only to make me feel
guilty and secretly a little bit flattered at his
attention. "You haven't eaten since six o'clock yesterday
morning. A girl's gotta eat right?"

At his gesture I glance at the coffee table and see a take
out bag and two plates waiting for us with a six-pack of
corona. Fast food and beer. The man knows me too well. I
reluctantly choose to ignore the fact that god only knows
where Mulder managed to get burgers from at this time. Some
seedy little hole in the wall no doubt. 

The way he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the
region between my shoulders and my knees indicates to me
that food is the last thing on his mind. I think his
moodiness tonight is somehow all tied up in this. The beer
and sustenance is just a cover. I have a feeling that
Mulder is here tonight because he's finally ready to push
the boundaries. 

I think this is the reason why I haven't made a move to
straighten my robe. What's the point? I probably wont be
wearing it for much longer. With that in mind I take a few
steps toward him and he sinks to the sofa as I do so. I end
up standing directly in front of him between the sofa and
the coffee table. He speaks as he looks up at me. "I spoke
to Skinner. He doesn't want us until four pm." Skinner
knows how we've been killing ourselves for this case. Bless
the man for his generosity. "So that's why you dropped by?"

He nods, trying to appear casual but I can see the
discomfort. At once I feel for him. I don't want this to be
hard for him. Everything else in our lives is so
complicated and I want to show him how simple and
satisfying this could be. There is so much unspoken between
us that Mulder doesn't appear to know where to start. I'm
encouraging him before I've even really given much thought
to it. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong Mulder, but you're not really
here tonight for the food are you?" I shift closer and I'm
standing between his knees now. His head tilts back further
to maintain eye contact. "What are you suggesting Scully?"
His voice is low, neutral, not really giving anything away.
I'm starting to second guess myself now. "Don't make me
spell it out." My sentence ends on a whisper and he sees my
hesitation. 

At once his hands come up to draw little circles over my
hips with his palms. "You're right." I don't answer right
away and he is not sure how to take my silence. "Does that
frighten you?" I shake my head. "No I just don't often hear
the words 'you're right' coming from you." We share a
mutual smile and this seems to break through a level of
tension. His hands deftly slide from my hips to lightly
knead my ass. The newness of such intimate contact is
thrilling and I feel the goose bumps begin to rise on the
skin of my arms. 

The sliding of Mulder's hands around the back of the robe
have caused the front of the robe to begin parting. My
heart beats impossibly harder as his attention is quickly
captured by this turn of events. His hands cease their
movement and for the longest time he simply stares at the
tantalizing gape in material. One inch higher and I will be
revealed to him. I cannot control the light trembling in my
legs as his hands meet where the silk joins. He looks up at
me and holds my eyes. The intensity rises as he slowly
parts the material upward. My lower half is revealed to the
room, basking in its glorious nudity. 

I can see in his eyes the desperate desire to look down at
what has been presented to him. He holds out a couple more
seconds and finally, luxuriously, he gives in. His eyes
flick away from my face to settle on what is in front of
him. From my lofty position I watch as his mouth softly
drops open, the tongue snaking out to moisten his
beautifully crafted lips. Without a word he presses a kiss
to the sensitive skin right above my pubic bone. My lower
stomach ripples beneath his touch, conveying to him my
exhilaration at having him there. 

I can feel that his hands have come to rest on my upper
thighs, his thumbs curling inward to gently peel me open. I
gasp as I feel air blown against my most private of areas.
I am reaching to run my fingers through his hair as his
mouth closes over me and he begins to gently suckle. 

My internal organs decide to form a trapeze act and I am
frozen in place from pure pleasure as the adrenalin sets
off fire works along my nerve endings. The wettest,
softest, sweetest sensation in the world has taken up
residence between my thighs and after five seconds of it
I'm already questioning where it's been all my life.

Here we are standing in my living room, having never
exchanged a kiss, having never exchanged any form of verbal
acknowledgement of what we mean to each other and Mulder's
tongue is in my pussy. I don't think I have quite
registered this yet. For now I'm happy to clutch at the
back of his head and grind against his eager mouth. 

His hands aren't idle for long, without ever removing his
face from where I hold him a willing captive, he strips me
of my robe and flings it in the direction of the sofa. With
each passing second the strength of pleasure increases and
I'm panting by the time he shifts us onto the couch. He
quickly stretches out on his back and pulls me down over
the top of him. I rest one knee carefully next to his head
and the other leg is stretched out to full length with my
foot firmly on the floor. Half standing, half kneeling over
him, I'm about to change my mind when his hands cup my ass
and he pulls me back against that talented mouth of his.

This isn't what I had imagined, not for our first time,
but there's no way I'm complaining. Mulder at this point is
pretty much feeding on me. He has such a greedy way of
tasting me; one would think that he is doing it as much for
himself as he is for me. In fact I daresay I'm right. His
mouth opens to draw in air and it catches along the roof of
his mouth projecting a sound very much like a snarl. This
excites me further and I feel the familiar waves building
in the background.

I warn him with a moan and his tongue picks up the pace.
He enjoys leaving me teetering on the edge for a moment or
two longer than what I feel is necessary. Then whatever
irritation I may have felt is forgotten as he slides one
long, perfect, well timed finger into me and I am lost. My
mouth drops open to form an 'oh' as I clamp down around
him. I unlock from my momentary paralysis and dissolve into
a series of rigid spasms. Mulder generously rides it out
with me the whole way as I am sucked under by the intensity
of a familiar pleasure pushed to dizzying limits. Fourth of
July, strike up the band, fire works, WHATEVER. There are
no words to describe the paradise that exists between his
body and mine.

I am amazed to find that I am still standing when I
venture a peek out from beneath an eyelid. Mulder's face is
back to it's original position against my abdomen with his
lips pressed to the soft skin above my pubic bone. His arms
are looped warmly around my legs as he waits for me to
return to him. I try not to slur when I speak.

"Not bad Mulder. We'll have to do that again sometime."
His chuckle is warm against my skin. I bite my lip as I
realize I am buck naked and very happily post orgasmic and
Mulder hasn't shed a scrap of clothing.

And we haven't kissed.

Both situations are in dire need of attention. I lower
myself onto his lap with my knees comfortably resting
either side of him on the sofa. He is sitting up, so I wrap
my arms around his neck and enjoy the smile that has taken
possession of his face. He is happy. Mulder is so sweet
when he is happy. He wastes no time showering my face with
delightful little kisses before finally sealing his lips to
mine and squeezing me so tightly I thought I might pass out
from the sheer joy of it.

His, mine together. That's all I could think as the world
spun out of control like a breathtaking carnival ride. The
colors spun together behind my eyelids, shooting stars
passed through galaxies, pleasure and excitement grew to a
sickening, dizzying, electrifying height before threatening
to explode. I pulled him closer and dared my senses to
overload. Once again we are all about the instant
gratification in our quest for pleasure. His coat and shirt
remains intact, only the tie is discarded. We get as far as
unbuttoning Mulder's pants, pushing the zipper down and
pulling him free. Both of us are too greedy to get him
properly undressed. 

=+=+=+=+=

I have imagined this moment many times and I have to say I
am more than content with reality for probably the first
time in my life. A man can only pray that he manages to
turn a woman on so much that she can't even wait until his
clothes are off to get her hooks into him. I have achieved
this with Scully, why am I not surprised?

She has me in the palm of her hand quite literally and she
is ready for me. She bites her lip as she eyes me up.
Scully may have seen me naked a couple of times but half
dead is no comparison to fully erect. I think she likes
what she sees because she runs her thumb over the head a
couple of times before licking her lips invitingly.

"Next time Mulder. I promise."

To be honest I'm really beyond that right now. I just want
to be inside of her. "Whatever you say Scully." Words are
no longer necessary. With one hand on my shoulder to brace
herself and one hand behind her holding me in place she
sinks down and I push passed her lips and into her supple
flesh where the glistening wetness waits to coat me for my
journey onward.

She moans as the next couple of inches pass and gasps at
the couple after that. When I'm finally buried to the balls
I find that we're both staring at each other with matching
expressions of wondrous illumination. "Oh-my-god." Her
words are nothing more than breath and whisper but I catch
them as they rain down from her hovered position above me. 

We start up a slow rhythm and I try as best as I can to
numb the pleasure for a little while by concentrating on
teasing her breasts. She enjoys it very much but it doesn't
work to deter me at all. In fact being able to touch and
taste her breasts after having them be forbidden for so
long is a pleasure in itself and I am very much getting off
on having my face buried between them and my tongue lapping
at her nipples.

I was worried for nothing, she softly pants in my ear that
she wants it harder. I am happy to oblige her request. I
hold on to her firm ass and thrust upward into her as hard
as I can as she lowers herself to me meet me. In a frenzy
of hips and breathless moaning she comes again. This time I
feel the clamping of her tight passage all around me. The
relief causes me to throw my head back and my eyeballs
follow suit, rolling back into my head. She rides out her
orgasm never once breaking stride and seduces mine from me
with the dance of her hips. 

"Sorry Scully.. Not gonna last."

I impress her name into the skin of her neck as I am
overtaken. An unintelligible sound escapes me as I release
five years worth of well-hidden desire into the very object
of my affection. She accepts it blissfully and urges me on
with a whisper and the grinding of her pelvis against mine. 

Together we wait for the pleasure to subside, and I pull
her to me, wrapping my still clothed arms around her naked
torso. She is finally still as she rests the side of her
face against my neck. Every so often her lips pucker to
kiss the underside of my chin.

When I have finally shriveled inside of her I pull out and
we both moan at the sensation of loss. We remain seated in
this position until her legs begin to cramp beneath her and
she has to stand. Begrudgingly she gets to her feet and
retrieves her robe. I on the other hand remove my layers
until I am wearing only my boxers. 

We haven't spoken a word and just when I am about to grow
worried about her silence she graces me with a beautiful
smile. She is happy. For once I made the woman happy. This
knowledge makes me return her smile, so hard I feel like my
face might crack. "How about those burgers Mulder? You
hungry?"

Scully tries to stick to her organic this and fat free
that most of the time but she has been known to pig out on
occasion. She digs through the bag with an almost
inappropriate level of glee. Watching her shovel the long,
skinny, oil soaked fries into her mouth brings me an
enormous sense of well being. Since her fight with cancer,
seeing her tuck into a meal and actually enjoy it rather
than choke it down was a miracle.

Our routine remains unchanged from the very first time we
dined together on hamburgers. She unwraps her burger and
opens it gently so that she may extract the pickle. With
the offending vegetable hanging between her thumb and
forefinger she slides it inside my burger and wrinkles up
her nose in distaste. 

You're either a pickle person or you're not and Scully is
definitely not one for the pickle. Once her burger is
deemed suitable she slaps it back together and lifts it
greedily to her mouth. I can't help but look on
affectionately as her eyes close involuntarily from
pleasure. She has her perfect lips wrapped around the buns
and I'm not sure which one of us is enjoying the experience
more.

"Mmm Muldaw dey put exftra faufe on this one. Sooo good."

She'll be angling for another serving of special Mulder
sauce if she doesn't stop moaning like that. Who thought
anyone could get so worked up over a burger? I am amazed as
she takes a second huge bite without properly swallowing
the first. She'll be gnawing on the coffee table soon.
Maybe I should go and get her an apple pie before she runs
out of food.

"Sorry afterwards I always eat like a horse." She manages
to get this out before swallowing the last bite and taking
another. I really should be disgusted with her blatant
gluttony but I'm still riding the high of 'getting some'
and not much could spoil this moment. "S'ok," I say around
my own mouthful, "next time I'll get you a beef roll." I
nod toward the front of my boxers and smile.

My little joke goes unnoticed in her haze of burger-
fuelled bliss. I don't mind. I'm content to sit here and
watch her for as long as she'll let me because I know that
after that we can go to the bedroom and start all over
again.

***Finis***