Title: Ecstatic
Author: Lovesfox
E-mail: lovesfox@rogers.com
Website: www.geocities.com/fanficcorner
Rating: NC-17
Category: MSR, PWP
Classification: SR - Story/Romance
Spoilers: None
Summary: After a brief time apart, Mulder is anxious
to see Scully.
Archive: Yes to ATXC, Gossamer and Ephemeral. Others
please ask.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully do not belong to me,
they belong to Chris Carter and 1013
Productions. I mean no harm, nor will
I profit.
Thanks: As always, to Nancy.
***
Ecstatic
by Lovesfox
Mulder's Apartment
Sunday, 7:15 AM
All morning long he has been on edge.
Up since five a.m., he has been waiting until the hour is
decent enough to head over to Scully's place. Her flight
had been scheduled to come in at two in the morning, and
when she had told him of her travel itinerary, she had
insisted, over his vehement protestations, that he not be
there to pick her up; that a taxi would suffice at that
late an hour.
He'd almost ignored her wishes, had actually gotten into
his car to drive to the airport at one point. But
recalling how tired and jet-lagged she'd be, he'd decided
it was better if he didn't -- after two weeks apart, the
longest time since they'd been together as lovers, there
was no way he wouldn't be trying to get Scully into bed.
And not for sleep.
They'd talked on the phone daily those two weeks, sometimes
two or three times on many of those days, and communicated
via e-mail as well. He had even convinced her to
participate in phone sex with him three nights into her
trip, to their mutual satisfaction.
While wonderful, those moments had been small comforts
only.
He is completely dressed, having showered and shaved --
smooth-shaven cheeks are a rarity on the weekends if they
are not on a case -- after his five mile run, and is
probably wearing grooves into the floor as he paces from
the window to the door and back again. Occasionally he
picks up his basketball and dribbles it, and he twice
attempts to read the morning paper, to no avail.
His apartment is spotless, and his laundry is sorted and
ready for a trip to the laundromat. He supposes he could
go do it, but is worried he might miss her call while he
is out. Of course he'd have his cell phone with him, but
that's not the point.
Forcing himself to sit down on the couch, he grabs the
remote from the cushion beside him and turns the TV on.
In a span of no more than two minutes, he flicks through
every channel -- twice.
He settles on a replay of an old Knicks game, and manages
to focus on it for most of one quarter before he is rising
again, his fleeting interest lost.
With the distant sounds of the game in his ears, he paws
through his briefcase, locating the files he had brought
home the night before. Possible cases for the X-Files, he
spreads them out on the coffee table and goes through them
one by one. None hold his attention longer than it takes
to read the initial summary.
Checking his watch yet again, he sees that time still moves
at a snail's pace, and tells himself he really should wait
until at least nine o'clock.
Mulder's resolution lasts all of five minutes.
***
Scully's Apartment
Sunday, 8:10 AM
Having flirted with numerous traffic violations, he is
finally here.
He knocks on her door -- two hard, sharp raps. When she
doesn't immediately answer, he digs in his pocket for his
keys and quickly finds hers. Seconds later he is inside,
softly shutting the door behind him and re-locking it.
The apartment is quiet and still, and he notes that the
living room window blinds are drawn, a sure indicator that
she has not yet risen or ventured far from her bedroom.
A faint sound from that sanctuary draws his attention, and
he starts down the hallway. Not wanting to startle her,
he calls out softly, "Scully?"
"Mulder? Is that you?" The lilt in her voice is one of
not-quite surprise, as if she has been expecting him to
show up. She knows him well.
He is tempted to tease, to reply in the negative, but she
is now in the doorway, her hands behind her back and a
smile flirting at her lips. Mulder shrugs, gives her a
puppy-dog look and says, "I couldn't wait any longer."
She pauses for a beat, her eyebrow arched in that sexy
way guaranteed to set his blood afire, and then sheepishly
reveals the item in her hand.
Her portable phone.
Now smiling fully, she tells him, "I was just about to
call you." She puts the phone down on the nearby table.
They share a grin, and then Scully is darting forward to
hug him fiercely, high on her tiptoes and her arms tight
around his shoulders, fingers toying at his nape. Her
nose is buried in his neck, her lips tickling the sensitive
skin.
Mulder returns the embrace, hands sweeping up her back,
sliding over the cotton of her button-down sweater.
Encountering no tell-tale strap at mid-back, he realizes
she is not wearing a bra.
His pulse is not the only thing that leaps.
She notices the obvious evidence of his pleasure, and
chuffs into his neck before lifting her head to meet
his gaze. "Happy to see me, Mulder?" she intones in
her arousing-as-hell phone-sex operator voice.
His hips thrust instinctively, even as he smiles at the
cheesy line. "Ecstatic," he tells her, and glides one
hand down to palm her ass. Pressing her further into
his hardness. He brings his head down, lips grazing
her cheek before seeking and finding her ear. "Let's go
make you ecstatic too," he croons, and then nips at her
lobe with his teeth.
Her body jerks against him in response, her fingers
flexing on his shoulders. "I think that can be arranged,"
Scully replies, trying to sound nonchalant, though the
husky timbre of her voice and the way she is pushing her
belly into his erection belies the attempt.
These indications have him maneuvering them until he has
her back against the nearest wall and he covers her body.
His thigh pushes its way between hers and his mouth takes
hers, fiercely.
She is a willing participant, until he begins to work
her sweatpants down. Pulling free of his lips, she gasps,
"The bedroom."
Reluctantly Mulder releases her and retreats, smiling
proudly when he sees her wobbly first steps, steps that
match his own. Her cheeks are flushed becomingly, her
hair tousled and her eyes are dark with passion. For want
of a better description, she looks like she has already
been well and thoroughly fucked.
Mulder thrills to the knowledge that it is he who is
responsible for this look.
She takes his hand then and tugs him along.
***
Despite the urgency upon his arrival, it is Scully who has
taken the lead.
Watching as she disrobes unselfconsciously and with an
easy grace that further arouses him, Mulder finds himself
unable to work on removing his own clothing. He cannot
take his eyes off of her.
Now gloriously nude, Scully smiles confidently at him and
then crosses the room to deposit her clothes neatly on the
chair in the corner near the window. These blinds are open,
and sunlight streams through the slats, dappling her fair
skin in gold.
She is even more amazingly beautiful thusly.
Re-crossing the room to stand before him, she takes his
hand, leading him to the bed where she softly tells him to
sit. There is amusement in her voice, aimed at him, but
he does not mind. Once he has docilely done her bidding,
she surprises him by dropping to her knees with that same
grace. Her breasts sway gently, and he is fascinated by
their movement, and by her crinkly nipples, hard in the
cool air.
So much so that he does not hear her words the first time
she speaks. It is not until she says, her humor evident,
"Mulder, I said I need you to lift your foot," that he
realizes she has unlaced his boots and is trying to remove
them.
"Oh," he replies dumbstruck, apparently having also lost
the power of intelligent speech. He lifts his left foot,
and understands then that she had tapped his right one
after she shakes her head and smiles again.
His expression is sheepish, he is certain, as he lowers
his left and lifts the correct foot. She cups his heel
in one hand, helping to support its weight, and after
loosening the laces further, she pulls his boot off and
places it to one side. His sock is next, peeled down and
off with a slowness he finds strangely erotic. She tenderly
rubs the marks on his instep made by his boot, her fingers
grazing his arch in the process, causing his foot to twitch
in her hold and his breath to chuff out in a half-laugh.
Once she has removed the other boot and lined it up with
its mate, and dealt with his sock, she rises easily.
Crooking her finger at him in a silent command for him to
stand up, Scully waits until he has done so before reaching
for his belt.
The swoosh of the leather clearing the loops is loud in
the stillness and quiet of her room, and it sends a slight
shiver through him. He shivers again when Scully tugs his
shirt free of his waistband, and she murmurs, "Easy there,"
as if she were settling a skittish colt.
He is more than willing to be tamed by her.
Her hands now glide caressingly up the soft cotton of
Mulder's casual, button-down shirt, trailing over his pecs.
They contract, his nipples hardening, and he sways towards
her.
She begins on the buttons, slowly working her way down. As
she reaches mid-point, she once again drops to her knees.
Her lips are pursed in concentration, her gaze focused
entirely on the task at hand. This seriousness is an
interesting contrast to her nudity, and an alluring one.
Enigmatic Dr. Scully, indeed.
As she reaches the last button, her knuckles graze the
fly of his jeans, and the bulge contained within. The
contact renews his attention in the form of an instinctive
thrusting of his hips, and draws a smile from her -- a
satisfied and hungry baring of her teeth.
He wants to kiss that smile. To nibble at and bite the
fullness of her berry-red lips, to stroke his tongue along
her teeth, to suck at her tongue. To let his mouth wander
at will.
But to do so would pull her from her task. Her very
important, very arousing task.
So he ignores the urge, with Herculean strength, biding his
time until he can let loose.
If he has a coherent thought left in his brain to do so, he
thinks hazily...
For she has just run her hands over his lower abdomen, and
her fingers are dipping into the waistband of his jeans,
nails scratching ever-so-lightly at his skin.
She uses her hold on the denim to rise to her feet once
again, and releases it to smooth her palms up his chest
anew, this time underneath his shirt. Her thumbs rub at
his nipples on the way by and he sucks in air sharply.
In seconds the shirt is fluttering to the floor and her
hands are busy at the top button of his jeans and then at
his zipper. Easing the metal tab carefully downwards,
mindful of the tender, erect flesh beneath the denim.
Once she has parted his fly, her fingers dance along his
cotton boxers, under his jeans, and it is her touch on
his hips -- sensitive and ticklish -- that jolts him into
action.
***
Lifting his arms, Mulder hurriedly nudges Scully's hands
aside and then jams his thumbs into the waistbands of
jeans and boxers together. He shoves downward, forgetting
in his haste to get as naked as Scully a vital step in the
process of removing clothing while sporting an erection
of epic proportions.
Palming himself, he smothers a curse, seeing out of his
squinting eyes that Scully is smothering a laugh. "Laugh
it up, lady," he tells her, trying to hold a wounded
expression. "The party ends right here if Little Mulder
is out of action."
Eyes dancing with suppressed laughter, Scully manages to
choke out, "Little Mulder? You...you call your penis
Little Mulder?" A giggle escapes.
Her gaze takes in the evidence to the contrary with what
he would term a predatory gleam. "Not so little...Mulder."
This time she lets out a snort of laughter. Composing
herself with a deep breath, she adds, "Besides, I think...
*he's* fine. More than fine, actually."
Even as he is preening from her clearly aroused gaze --
puffing out his chest and rocking his pelvis forward
slightly, Mulder mock-pouts. "No sympathy?"
Her lids lower halfway and her voice becomes breathy,
something that has always turned him on, even before
they became lovers. Long before.
"Would you like me to kiss him better?"
Faster than she probably thought possible, he divests
himself of his jeans and boxers -- without further risk
to Little Mulder -- and has them both on Scully's bed.
She on her back, and Mulder lying between her spread
thighs.
His arms cage her head, fingers tangling in her hair.
They are almost nose-to-nose, and his eager erection
presses insistently against her belly.
"I can think of something else," Mulder says huskily.
"Something that will make us both very happy." He
punctuates his words with a lazy thrust of his hips.
Remembering his earlier comment out in her living
room, he adds, "Ecstatic even."
Scully sighs and undulates beneath him. Licks her lips.
This action reminds Mulder of his earlier intention to
let his mouth wander at will. Ducking his head down
those last inches, he captures her mouth in a wet,
hungry kiss.
She had flung her arms outward when he had tossed her
on the bed, and now she lifts them up to wrap around
him, her fingers kneading his back. At the same time,
she winds her right leg around his left, her foot
sliding restlessly up and down his calf.
With their height difference, she has never been able
to comfortably touch his ass while in their current
position, a fact bemoaned by both. But her hands
sliding over his shoulders and tracing his spine are
more than enough right now.
He needs air, and he wants to wrap his lips around her
hard, hot nipples that brand his chest like twin points
of fire. So he releases her mouth with a wet, sucking
sound and gulps in a breath as he prepares for his
quest. The pulse beating wildly in her neck catches
his attention and he instead plants his lips over it.
He kisses there, follows up with a light nip, drawing
a shivery gasp from Scully, and then moves downward.
The slope of her breast is another temptation he cannot
resist, and he lingers briefly, brushing his nose back
and forth over its satiny softness before finally
reaching his intended target. Teasing them both, he
circles her left aureole with just the tip of his tongue,
and then pulling back slightly, he purses his lips and
blows a tiny stream of air.
Her exclamation of his name is tortured-sounding, as is
the way her back arches in a mute and needy plea.
Perversely, he does not grant this wish. Instead, he
switches to her right breast and repeats the process of
circling and blowing, once again deliberately avoiding
her nipple.
Scully growls his name this time, drawing out the two
syllables, and Mulder smiles though she cannot see it.
Her hands fist in his hair, and with considerable
strength, she guides his mouth to where she wants him
to be.
He resists, suddenly ridiculously playful regardless of
his renewed urgency, regardless of the charge in the air,
the electricity zinging through his veins. He rubs his
nose over her nipple in a modified Eskimo kiss, and
laughs when she gives his hair a sharp tug in retaliation.
Relenting -- somewhat -- Mulder uses the tip of his tongue
to flick at one nipple. Her sharp inhalation serves to
thrust her breast upward, against his lips.
She lets out a keening sound and then whispers, "Please,"
and he relents. Drawing the hard nub into his mouth, he
alternately sucks and teases it with flicks of his tongue.
As a result, her movements become more restless, arms and
legs moving.
He is so involved in his playfulness, he doesn't recognize
her machinations for what they are -- a ploy to gain the
upper hand. And the next thing he knows, he is flat on
his back, and Scully is straddling his hips, his jutting
cock nestling against her ass.
Her cheeks and neck are flushed with victory and arousal,
her hair a wild, sexy nimbus around her face, and she is
grinning at him.
His own nimble nymph, she dips down and quickly swipes
her tongue around his nipple. Giving him a taste of his
own medicine, he muses whimsically as he gasps in a shaky
breath and clenches his hands on her hips.
"Can we get to ecstatic now?" she smirks playfully at him,
the thumb of her right hand now stroking over that same
nipple. She is also rocking herself slightly on him, and
he can feel the evidence of her excitement slicking his
skin. Mulder's own excitement skyrockets.
Tightening his hands on her hips, he mutters, "Lift," and
when she complies, shifting to take her weight on her
knees, he says, "Hold on." Once her hands settle on his
shoulders, he sits up, his abdominal muscles straining and
rippling.
On her knees, her breasts are level with his face, and he
pauses to worship them, sliding one hand from her hip to
her lower back to push her closer. He nuzzles each one in
turn, nips at the underside of the left, and then trails
his tongue up to suck her nipple into his mouth. Bringing
his teeth into play, he bites down ever-so-gently and tugs,
which elicits a strangled moan from Scully.
"Mulder," she says then, stretching out the last syllable,
her impatience and arousal equally clear. "Now." With
that, she reaches one hand down between their bodies and
encircles his cock, sliding her fingers to its base and
squeezing firmly.
He loves an assertive, horny Scully.
"Yes," he agrees, torn between watching her face, her
beautifully expressive eyes, and watching her hand on his
cock. The eyes win, after one last flicking glance
downward. "Yes," he repeats hoarsely.
She moves. An infinitesimal adjustment, a seductive
shift, and his flesh is slowly enveloped in tight, wet
heat.
They sigh in unison when he is fully embedded, their
gazes still locked. Her fingers flex on his shoulders
and her internal muscles clench around his cock, her
thighs squeezing his hips. Her heels are digging into
his backside. In turn, he applies a light pressure on
her back, while his other hand slides from her hip to
palm her ass.
Following his guiding, Scully begins to rock gently.
Too gently, Mulder thinks, his heart galloping in his
chest and his pulse thundering in his ears. He can
taste his desire. It is raw and heady, urging him on.
With a squeeze of her ass, he encourages Scully to
increase the pace, digging his heels into the mattress
to provide a counter-rocking.
This is still not enough, however, and he does not have
the leverage he wants. Gripping her hips in both hands,
he stills her motions and utters hoarsely, "Wait." He
sucks in air and continues, "I need...Get up on your
knees, Scully."
His cock slips out of its haven as she complies, and he
hisses when the cooler air hits his sensitized, heated
flesh. Tightening his abdomen, he lays back.
Scully follows him down, his erection pleasantly trapped
between their bodies, and kisses him deeply before rising
and grasping the base of his cock once again. Another
seductive shift, and then she is riding him.
Leaning forward slightly, changing the angle, she plants
her palms on his ribcage to support herself and increases
her movements. Seeing that familiar and well-loved look
of concentration on her face, signaling her approaching
orgasm, he assists by adding tiny, snapping thrusts of
his hips.
At that, her eyes flutter shut and she bites down on her
lower lip, her breath hitching.
It is a struggle to keep his own eyes open so that he
can watch the pleasure/pain on her face. It is also a
struggle not to flip her over so that he can pound into
her and satisfy the primal need screaming through his
brain, through his very being.
Mouth opening on a silent cry, Scully's head falls back,
the ends of her hair tickling his thighs. Her movements
become more frantic, near desperate, and Mulder realizes
suddenly that he is chanting her name, urging her on.
Urging them both on.
For he isn't far behind.
Suddenly she jerks against him, her head snapping upright
as she lets out a mewling sound, and then she is holding
herself still, every muscle in her body taut with the
strain. "Ohhhhh...God," she whimpers, and he watches
through heavy-lidded eyes as wonder transfuses her face.
He can feel the contractions deep within her, drawing on
his cock, milking it. Sending him flying over that edge.
Free falling.
"Uhhhhh..." he groans, hips thrusting spasmodically. His
eyes are screwed tightly shut now and his fingers dig into
Scully's hips, anchoring her to him. Holding her still
as he empties himself into her.
It feels like forever, but at last he slumps back into the
mattress. Scully follows him down, splaying over him
bonelessly, and buries her face in his neck. Her breathing
is still erratic, hot and heavy on his skin, and he can
feel her thundering heartbeat, which matches his own.
He sweeps one hand up and down her back in slow, soothing
strokes and she purrs contentedly, seemingly in no hurry
to move.
And neither is he.
***
The End
Feedback appreciated at lovesfox@rogers.com
Text file Source (historic): geocities.com/kim_djd
(to report bad content: archivehelp @ gmail)
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