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applecameronTitle: After the End of the World
Author: SV, 2003
Fandom: X-Files
Author's Notes: X-Files, Mulder/Scully relationship. Post-"Millennium", no spoilers for plot. Pretty much PWP.
Reprinted by express permission.
Dick Clark was still rattling off New Year's inanities around the corner as they waited for the elevator.
The ride down was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Scully didn't spare too much thought for the queerly passionless, almost tentative kiss they'd had under the TV. Maybe if it had been mistletoe? The idea made her smile slightly at the wall, her fuzzed out reflection cocking its head and smiling back. Mulder was looking at his feet. He didn't have a coat. Discarded somewhere during the adventures of the evening. Last night, technically. Last millennium, according to some.
*Nobody likes a math geek, Scully.*
Her reflection cocked its head again. She looked down, found Mulder's good hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
He squeezed back, smiling down at their hands, his thumb a swift movement against her skin. For a moment, she was acutely aware of the height difference between them.
The elevator doors opened and they turned a few corners to get to the exit, Scully promptly setting a brisk pace down the block towards the car. Mulder's long legs matched her easily, eating up the cool night.
They moved in companionable silence, the silence of partners who knew the other would always be there. Would always follow.
The car was a block away, when Mulder veered left into a dim alley. Scully looked into the dark, seeing no movement, nothing but her partner's silhouette. No apparent cause for alarm.
She followed. Scully always followed.
The alley was a short T ending in a newly bricked wall, almost unlit. She could just see her partner a step ahead in the gloom.
Silently, he looked around, and Scully put her hand, lightly, on his wrist, to get his attention, by doctor's instinct feeling for his pulse. "Mulder?" she started to ask, but the sound never came out. Mulder pulled her against the wall, braced his good hand on the brick, and kissed her, not tentatively at all.
She felt the wall against her back, smelled dirt, and mortar, the acrid scent of electricity and the dumpster on the opposite side of the wall. The hospital smells that lingered on their clothes.
Yes. There was nothing to be tentative about, here. He knew it as well as she.
Kisses between them didn't belong in lit hallways under blaring TVs, with Dick Clark smiling down approvingly. Kisses belonged here. Out here, with the X-Files. Chilly and mysterious, where heat steamed off their bodies like secrets. In the dark, truth was an elusive stranger, just ahead of them, just out of reach.
She followed. Scully always followed.
Mulder's lips where full and warm against her own, and she let him in, their tongues fencing, first lightly, then urgently. Her free hand pulled him closer, his buttocks tensing against her touch. Her other hand stayed on his chest, keeping them from crushing his injured arm. She wanted all of him, everywhere, forever.
They never had time. There was never time, with the X-Files. They stayed, though, a moment longer, wedded at mouth and hip. She pulled them together even tighter, then disengaged a tiny eternity to struggle out of her pants and open his. Mulder moaned when her fingertips freed him, caressing the soft skin at the crown of his erection, his eyes closing for a long moment. "Scully." came the whispered entreaty, wafting down into her ear.
So soft, so soft, fox's eyes, fox's eyes, glowing in the dark.
She smiled as they came together.
Injured arm pressed away from the fray, Mulder wedged them against the brick wall, lifting her with his free hand. Scully's legs wrapped around his hips. There was nothing to do but sink around him, sink into him, the grit and harsh brick, the chill air on their bare skin. Finally, finally together. So much time. Never enough time. Mulder pulsed, inside, and she squeezed him hard, savoring it.
His face crumpled with pleasure, lower lip jutting deliciously. She bit it, drawing blood, and they both came.
Dana Scully cried out, high and faint against Mulder's mouth, as he convulsed inside her. The one place she'd never thought of. The one place her partner belonged.
Author: SV, 2003
Fandom: X-Files
Author's Notes: X-Files, Mulder/Scully relationship. Post-"Millennium", no spoilers for plot. Pretty much PWP.
Reprinted by express permission.
Dick Clark was still rattling off New Year's inanities around the corner as they waited for the elevator.
The ride down was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Scully didn't spare too much thought for the queerly passionless, almost tentative kiss they'd had under the TV. Maybe if it had been mistletoe? The idea made her smile slightly at the wall, her fuzzed out reflection cocking its head and smiling back. Mulder was looking at his feet. He didn't have a coat. Discarded somewhere during the adventures of the evening. Last night, technically. Last millennium, according to some.
*Nobody likes a math geek, Scully.*
Her reflection cocked its head again. She looked down, found Mulder's good hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
He squeezed back, smiling down at their hands, his thumb a swift movement against her skin. For a moment, she was acutely aware of the height difference between them.
The elevator doors opened and they turned a few corners to get to the exit, Scully promptly setting a brisk pace down the block towards the car. Mulder's long legs matched her easily, eating up the cool night.
They moved in companionable silence, the silence of partners who knew the other would always be there. Would always follow.
The car was a block away, when Mulder veered left into a dim alley. Scully looked into the dark, seeing no movement, nothing but her partner's silhouette. No apparent cause for alarm.
She followed. Scully always followed.
The alley was a short T ending in a newly bricked wall, almost unlit. She could just see her partner a step ahead in the gloom.
Silently, he looked around, and Scully put her hand, lightly, on his wrist, to get his attention, by doctor's instinct feeling for his pulse. "Mulder?" she started to ask, but the sound never came out. Mulder pulled her against the wall, braced his good hand on the brick, and kissed her, not tentatively at all.
She felt the wall against her back, smelled dirt, and mortar, the acrid scent of electricity and the dumpster on the opposite side of the wall. The hospital smells that lingered on their clothes.
Yes. There was nothing to be tentative about, here. He knew it as well as she.
Kisses between them didn't belong in lit hallways under blaring TVs, with Dick Clark smiling down approvingly. Kisses belonged here. Out here, with the X-Files. Chilly and mysterious, where heat steamed off their bodies like secrets. In the dark, truth was an elusive stranger, just ahead of them, just out of reach.
She followed. Scully always followed.
Mulder's lips where full and warm against her own, and she let him in, their tongues fencing, first lightly, then urgently. Her free hand pulled him closer, his buttocks tensing against her touch. Her other hand stayed on his chest, keeping them from crushing his injured arm. She wanted all of him, everywhere, forever.
They never had time. There was never time, with the X-Files. They stayed, though, a moment longer, wedded at mouth and hip. She pulled them together even tighter, then disengaged a tiny eternity to struggle out of her pants and open his. Mulder moaned when her fingertips freed him, caressing the soft skin at the crown of his erection, his eyes closing for a long moment. "Scully." came the whispered entreaty, wafting down into her ear.
So soft, so soft, fox's eyes, fox's eyes, glowing in the dark.
She smiled as they came together.
Injured arm pressed away from the fray, Mulder wedged them against the brick wall, lifting her with his free hand. Scully's legs wrapped around his hips. There was nothing to do but sink around him, sink into him, the grit and harsh brick, the chill air on their bare skin. Finally, finally together. So much time. Never enough time. Mulder pulsed, inside, and she squeezed him hard, savoring it.
His face crumpled with pleasure, lower lip jutting deliciously. She bit it, drawing blood, and they both came.
Dana Scully cried out, high and faint against Mulder's mouth, as he convulsed inside her. The one place she'd never thought of. The one place her partner belonged.