Archive of Our Own ^beta

May 21

A week of unanswered calls and emails leaves Scully with no choice but to leave a post-it on his desk. 

She scribbles down a message. Georgetown tonight. It's enough of a command—come see me in person.

There's no need to sign the note. He'll recognize the handwriting. She sticks it where he'll immediately notice—on the frame that holds a photo of him and Samantha.

✧

from: [email protected]
to: [email protected] 
subject: [no subject]

Not safe for you to continue contacting me. They still have it out for me. Will call if things change. Keep your distance.

M

✧

Scully spends two hours contemplating a reply. There are a few long-winded paragraphs typed up, a few colder sounding than others. None of the drafts make her feel any better.

She's not angry, she comes to realize, but she still doesn't know what she feels. She calls Melissa, who comes over with a bottle of wine and ice cream.

At first, Melissa suggests she feels abandoned. Or anxious about the changes of the last two weeks. Or heartbroken about being torn away from Mulder.

“I got what I wanted. I’m back at Quantico,” Scully sighs. “Why can’t I just be happy?”

“Well, you haven’t gotten any closure from him.”

“Who? Skinner?”

“Fox,” Melissa says, with something of a laugh, like it should be obvious. “You get assigned to work with the guy, get to know him, befriend him, trust him, sleep with him. It’s a partnership. Can’t just turn that kind of thing off.”

“You promised to never bring that up.”

“Dana. Look. I’m not saying you caught romantic feelings.”

“I didn't!”

“Okay! I'm just saying, like it or not, you're emotionally attached to him by circumstance. No healthy person could go through what you have together and have a clean break without any warning.”

“So, tell him that. He's the one ignoring my calls and telling me it's not safe to talk to him.”

“Right.”

There's a lull in the conversation while Scully pours another glass of wine. Melissa follows, pouring the last of the bottle into her own glass.

“Do you think it's safe?” Melissa asks.

“Honestly? I don't know. But if it's a risk to me to contact him, whether or not I do so is for me to decide. I'm so fucking sick of being told what's best for me. How the hell would Mulder know that? It's insulting! It's demeaning, and it’s—”

“You're not happy being back at Quantico,” Melissa interrupts, her expression softening with the revelation, “because it wasn't your decision.”

Scully doesn't say anything. Her breath shakes, and she swirls her wine around in its glass. Melissa often has a way of doing this—seeing what's going on underneath Scully's defenses, helping her sister find the words for what she's feeling. 

“I don't know how to even begin sorting all of this out,” Scully admits, her voice low. This is something only her sister could ever hear. “That's what scares me.”

“There never really is any particular right way... Start with what feels most natural. Maybe your instincts will inform you. Maybe they'll help you find the most authentic way forward.”

Scully puts down her wine to rub her face with her hands. “As established several months ago over a very similar bottle of cabernet... The.. authenticity of my anger, likely due to my life’s direction being dictated by anyone but myself, has already led me to sleep with Mulder.”

“You'll find your way through this.” Melissa seemingly takes note of Dana's skepticism, as she goes on: “You're not Ahab. And you don't have to be Ahab.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You know, he speaks of his fate—from the life he has lived... To the death he has already decided he will one day face... The whole thing about the path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. All that talk about being unbending, about obstacles not swaying him from his path...” Melissa shrugs. “This is your life, Dana. And I'm sorry for all of the circumstances and the people that have worked to make you forget that in order to survive.”

May 30

from: [email protected] 
to: [email protected]
subject: RE: [no subject]

This is the last time I'll contact you if you don't respond. I want to continue our work in whatever capacity possible. I don't know what that would mean just yet, but we could work out a plan together. 

June 10

Mulder thought it would be cooler out tonight. He works up a sweat as he walks through the parking garage of the Watergate, now deeply regretting not leaving his suit’s jacket in his own car.

That all leaves his mind, however, when he sees Scully’s car pulling in and parking. Per a glance at his watch, she's precise with her timing, down to the exact minute. 11:45pm. She chooses a spot tucked away on a corner, a place where the obnoxious lights can't quite reach. 

When Mulder gets closer, he notices she's already equipped the side-rear windows with sun shades. Now, she's climbed into the backseat to tuck a blanket against the back window. It's enough for them to be obscured, but still be aware of anyone nearby.

“Nice touch,” Mulder says when he gets into the car.

“You made it pretty clear how big of a concern privacy was. Figured I'd cover my bases.”

“Right.”

“You know, I don't think Nixon's Deep Throat went through all these steps. I'm pretty sure they just met him out in the open in the garage.”

Mulder smirks at that, finally taking the chance to get a good look at Scully. She looks the same as before, which shouldn't be surprising—but Mulder always worries faces will fade from his memory faster than psychology dictates.

Ever the observer, Scully notices Mulder has come empty-handed. No briefcase of case files, no floppy disk with classified information, not even a VHS of some alleged UFO sighting. 

“I'm sorry,” he tells her. This wasn't what he'd promised when they arranged this top-secret meeting. He let her down. He knows as much. The guilt must be written all over his face.

Scully is unreadable for a moment. She scans his face, his dress, his demeanor, and concern soon appears in her expression, in the wrinkle of her brow, in the pout of her lip.

“It doesn't matter. I’m glad to see you, Mulder,” Scully tells him. “This doesn't have to be about work.”

“I guess it's not, seeing as I couldn't come up with anything worth showing you.”

“Which is surprising, considering the numerous filing cabinets in the basement, not to mention your encyclopedic knowledge of mysterious—”

“Yeah.”

Silence hangs between them. She moves closer to him in the silence, reaching for his hair.

“What?” He whispers.

“I haven't been doing well as of late, either.”

Mulder watches her expression soften, the hint of a smile appearing. Such a smile, Mulder knows by now, can't be used to gauge her feelings; it’s a gesture meant to comfort him. He isn't sure what gives him away, but Scully takes notice of his newfound relief and she takes it further. She moves her fingers through his hair. Mulder sighs, reaching for Scully, desperate to have her closer. She follows his lead, moving herself towards him in the backseat.

“I want to feel better,” Scully whispers. “I can see you do, too.”

“You can?”

Scully pushes his jacket off his shoulders, and he leans forward to take it off. It gets tossed onto the front seat, and then Scully's kicking off her shoes and unzipping her jeans and unbuttoning Mulder's dress shirt. He watches in disbelief; it all happens so quickly.

This is Scully stripping down in her car. Scully, who cares enough to meet him here tonight, even after two weeks of leaving her out to dry. Scully, climbing onto his lap and pressing her mouth to his.

✧

Either of the agents would be lying if they were to say a quick fuck in the backseat of a car has never crossed their mind. While Mulder has slightly favored the possibility of hooking up in a motel room while on a case, ever since their first sexual encounter, Scully had assumed that if it were to ever happen again, it would be here. But it would be nothing like this.

She rides Mulder slowly, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She can only take some of him; her thighs are tense, and space in the car is limited.

“Relax,” Mulder whispers, his left arm wrapping around her, anchoring her at her lower back. “I've got you.”

“Feels good, but—”

“I know... breathe.” Mulder’s right arm crosses over her upper back, his hand going to her hair. Cautiously, she exhales, urging her body to relax, to allow herself to take him.

“Shit... I just remembered,” Scully whispers, “I promised you a blowjob this time.”

Mulder laughs, and he gently guides Scully to look at him. “This is good, too,” he reassures her, then leans forward for a kiss.

The sex is clumsy, awkward. It's good enough for what they both need, though. Scully nearly gets off on Mulder's encouraging little whispers, and on the care with which he approaches this. Nearly. He comes just when she starts thinking it might be able to happen for her, too.

Instead of an apology, Mulder kisses her, guides her off of his lap. The space is awkward, though, so the move results in Scully slipping into the narrow space between the backseat and the center console.

“Scully!”

“I really hope that's not what you meant to do,” she mutters.

“I'm sorry,” Mulder says. They both laugh, and Mulder is quick to help her get back up. He’s careful with her this time, trying to wedge her between the two front seats and onto the center console. The space was smaller than he planned, so Scully is left awkwardly huddled in front of him. “ I thought you'd be able to sit on that.”

“Hmm. And here I thought you were flinging me off and running like last time.”

“What?”

“Like last time,” she repeats, “but even more straightforward.”

She collects her clothes and starts to climb into the front seat to dress, but Mulder pulls her back. Again, with much more care. She sits sideways on his lap, and his arms, circled around her hips, hold her close to him.

“I ran off last time?” He asks.

“You don't remember? Langley or someone called, and off you went.”

“I... Yeah... But it was work... It was important.”

“I know it was important to you. That’s why I only stayed mad for a few weeks.”

“Let me make it up to you this time.”

Scully hums, her gaze falling to her legs, where Mulder's right hand has begun exploring. “Between running off after sex to chase a UFO and ignoring my calls for weeks... God, Mulder, it's a miracle you got yourself into this situation.”

“It is... Really is. I'm sorry, Scully,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry.”

She turns her head to kiss him, deeply, passionately. They consume one another, breaths heavy, while Mulder slips his hand between Scully's legs. A quick adjustment of the hips, and Scully drops her left foot to the floor of the car. Mulder's left arm braces her, keeping her upright.

“You're sorry?” She whispers again, words slurred by the fury of their kisses.

“Hm?”

Again, pulling her mouth just an inch from his. “You're sorry?”

“Yeah...”

Scully guides his right hand across her thigh. She sighs at the touch of his fingers, just inches now from— “Show me.”

Mulder's dress pants, which have been pushed halfway down his thighs during their encounter, end up having a damp spot from Scully's time on his lap. She comes once with his fingers on her clit, and again with them inside her while she grinds against his palm.

He holds her in his arms afterwards, kissing the top of her head and down along one temple. Neither say a thing until their backs ache from their position, and Scully forces herself to crawl away from him and gather her clothes.

“When can I see you again?” She asks. “For this—or for work?”

“I don't know. They have me on these organized crime cases.”

“You're kidding. Why wouldn't they put you back on violent crimes? That's your division.”

“I’m being punished.”

“God, I hate the bureaucracy of this place sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Mulder smirks, pulling his pants back over his hips. Scully tosses him his shirt and tie.

“I'll see if I can find anything out, okay? Figure out who exactly it is we pissed off... I want to see you again. Preferably, not in a car.” 

August 14

Scully has had more sex in the past eight weeks than she's had in the rest of her life combined. She becomes accustomed to sex in either her or Mulder's car. They develop patterns, a code for communicating their next meeting, and it plays out similarly every time. The fear of being caught makes up for any element of routine; Scully's only partially surprised by the thrill she gets from sneaking around.

By the time mid-August comes around, Mulder becomes more restless than ever. When Scully describes one particular disagreement in the parking garage to Melissa, she suggests he's having a crisis of faith.

“He’s driving himself crazy with all the paranoia. I don't know if all these rules we've come up with are in place for the right reasons, seeing as he doesn't know what he believes anymore,” Scully explains.

Melissa doesn't have much advice, but she's a thoughtful listener. And she supports Scully's decision to reach out to Mulder tonight.

from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]
subject: sorry

Mulder,
I’m sorry for the frustration I expressed earlier, regarding the secrecy of our meetings. I feel lost, disconnected from your pursuits of the truth... whatever truths you now wish to uncover, should you no longer believe in things you once centered your work on. Wherever you find yourself in this search, I will contribute what I can to bring you peace, and to bring resolve in the disappearance of your sister.
In the meantime, I will continue my search for allies within the bureau. I don't know what else to offer you, without the X-Files.
Please don't use our reassignment as a reason to hide. Especially not from me.
Dana

✧

Mulder's back hits the surface of Scully's bed. He's angry. She's not—but she's willing to fight back. Scully's biting and tugging at his lips with her teeth. Mulder, meanwhile, is more focused on using his hands. They're on her waist, then grabbing her hips. One moves up to tug at her hair, to grip the back of her neck. 

“I didn't think you'd come over tonight,” Scully mutters.

“I really liked your email.”

Scully's necklace slips out of the collar of her shirt and swings forward, hitting Mulder’s chin. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, then kisses him again. This is what they've grown accustomed to: Scully on top of him, trying to make it happen quickly, Mulder using his hands to support whatever she wants to do.

“Can we try something different?” Mulder whispers. “Can we flip over?”

Scully eagerly rolls onto her back beside him without another thought. She flashes a grin at him, laughing when he grins right back at her. 

Being in a bed makes all the difference. They undress completely, and it takes little physical strain to do so. After weeks of aching thighs, Scully's relieved that Mulder gets to be the one on top now. Here, in her bed, there's room for Mulder to kiss her neck and breasts without making his neck ache. Mulder sighs as he caresses them, kisses them, sucks one nipple.

“I love how you feel on top of me,” she whispers, playfully twisting a lock of his hair around two fingers.

He leaves marks along the inner curves of her breast—far enough down her cleavage for it to remain their secret.

Scully moans, tugs at Mulder's hair again. He glances up at her, his gaze hot and focused. “You're so beautiful,” he says, then returns his mouth to her breasts. He stays there a while, working himself up just by kissing her body and listening to her sighs. 

Scully spreads her legs for him—yet another reminder of the space they now have to share. His right hand moves over her waist, her hips, and the back of her thighs, squeezing her in all the right places. Scully sighs again, and she feels Mulder smile against her breast.

“Touch me,” she whispers.

“When I'm done teasing you.”

She moans in frustration this time, but it dissipates when his fingers trace her inner thigh. It aches, how much he's turned her on. But he's taking his damn time. If they're taking such a risk by meeting at her place, he'll make certain she gets plenty out of it.

✧

Scully can feel Mulder smiling against her temple. He's fucking her slow and deep, and his fingers are interlaced with hers, her hands pinned down just above her head.

“I love how you sound,” Mulder whispers, “love how you feel... Want you to feel good, Dana.”

Scully whimpers at the use of her name. “Faster...”

She wraps her legs around him, rocking herself in time with Mulder. They lose their words as time goes on, becoming a mess of quickened breaths and moans and tangled limbs.

Scully shakes one hand free at some point and slips it between their bodies to touch her clit. He knows that's a good sign, so he does what he can to add to her pleasure.

“I can feel you shaking,” he hums against her temple. “I can feel you tightening around me... You feel so fucking good.”

Scully whines, something incoherent, and her left leg shakes again. Her hand is fast and steady on her clit; Mulder can feel the movement, and he can feel her knuckles against his own body.

“Fuck me,” she moans. She pulls her left hand free and finds Mulder's cheek, turns his face towards hers. “Make me cum.”

There's a moment of eye contact between them, and one last adjustment from Mulder's hips, then he's kissing her again. Scully writhes beneath him, furiously drawing circles over her clit. Their hips grind together, with Mulder focused on following Scully's rhythm and keeping himself buried deep in her.

The more she squirms beneath him, the more frustrated she becomes. Mulder can feel her moving too far from his body to get the same pleasure from his thrusts.

He grabs one of Scully's hips, clutching her tightly to keep her in place.

Before another minute has passed, she's moaning into the messy kisses on his jaw, yanking the hair at the nape of his neck, trembling madly beneath him. The heel in Mulder's thigh keeps him so close.

She cries out—almost squeaks, really—though the sound is mostly smothered by Mulder.

A more guttural moan comes when the arch in her back relaxes, and the hand on herself slows. She's breathing again.

Mulder slows his hips and rolls off of her, though he continues to give her a few long kisses. After taking a minute to stare at the ceiling and catch her breath, she grins at him, glowing with sweat. He tucks a strand of messy hair behind her ear and gazes back at her. His lack of smile doesn't go unnoticed.

He's not withdrawn, though, Scully notes. He's still touching her. He's still here.

“Come here,” Scully whispers, reaching out for him. He obeys, closing the distance between them again, until they're laying side by side, face to face.

“Did I wear you out?” She asks. 

Mulder shakes his head. “It's just been... a horrible week.”

Scully gently kisses him again. “May I still touch you? Do you want me to?”

“I don't think so,” he whispers.

Scully smiles at him again, moves her hand away from his cheek. It seems he got what he wanted out of this. He came to see her tonight to focus on her, to be present with her. To express how much he liked the email—the message that indicated just how deeply she understood him, respected him.

“Did you enjoy... All of that?” Scully asks him quietly. “Was I okay?”

Mulder laughs. “It was great. You were perfect.”

“Will you stay this time? I feel like... I don't want you to go off and be alone. I want you to have me with you tonight.”

Mulder reluctantly nods. He can't say he's accustomed to spending the night with women, but this isn't a stranger at all. This is Scully. He'll be safe here.

September 24

After a cool evening spent chatting on a bench near the Washington Monument, the agents go back to Scully's place. There's still no X-Files, but just as Mulder said a few weeks prior, they still have the work. They have their friendship.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Mulder tells Scully as she opens a bottle of wine for the pair of them. “About... How it would be more than a professional loss if I were to quit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hey, just to be absolutely clear... You would consider it a personal loss, right?”

Scully smirks at him, passing him a glass. “This week, working on that flukeworm with you? I mean, come on. That’s just about the most fun I've had in months.”

“That’s almost a disappointing thing to hear, as the man you've been sleeping with for months.”

They end up watching a movie together on Scully's couch. Crossing Delancey. They miss the first ten minutes, but decide to stick to that channel.

She likes his company, just sitting around like this. They don't talk about work, per say, but they talk about their interests. They have a healthy back-and-forth about various unexplainable natural phenomena, and eventually end up on the topic of dreams. Scully dreams a lot, vividly. 

“All kinds of dreams,” she elaborates. “Autopsy dreams. I've now had... Three, I think, dreams in which I've been abducted by aliens. Sex dreams.”

By the time their bottle of wine is empty, they're making out on Scully’s couch. His hands have slipped beneath her blouse, and she's once again met with the familiarity of his hands on her breasts.

His kisses move to her neck at the usual pace—at which point, she invites him to her bedroom. Mulder carries her there, sits her gently on the bed. 

She pulls off her blouse, watching Mulder's fingers move up her newly exposed skin. 

“Hey, Scully?” He whispers.

“Yes?”

He doesn't immediately say anything more, so Scully pulls off his shirt, too, and leans in for another kiss. When she pulls back, he's smiling nervously at her—something Scully finds thoroughly charming. As shy as he can be from time to time, he wants something now.

“Hm?” She repeats, giving him another kiss as an excuse for him to stall just a bit longer.

“Can I go down on you?” he finally asks.

Scully blinks at him, almost in surprise. There was never room for anything like that in the backseat of her car; such activities have always just been assumed out of the question. Twice, she offered Mulder a blowjob; he declined both times, saying he'd rather have her hand, so they could keep kissing and talking to one another. Again, Scully found that utterly charming.

“You want to?” she whispers. 

Mulder eagerly nods. “You have no idea... And I figured... Since we're not relying on a car anymore...” He pulls her hair over one shoulder and leans in to kiss her neck. While Scully takes a little time to ponder his question, he leaves kisses along her jaw, all the way to her ear lobe.

“Yeah,” Scully whispers, “do it.”

Mulder takes off Scully’s bra before she lies down. His mouth finds her neck again, soon working down to her breasts; he’s careful not to leave hickeys this time.

Scully adores this attention from Mulder. He’s just gentle enough with her—patient, in tune with her cues. She arches her back slightly when Mulder kisses further down her belly, and he holds her waist in response. Soon, he’s pulling off her work trousers and underwear, and she catches him biting his lip to hide his grin.

“What?” Scully giggles.

His mouth finds a sensitive place just below her navel. His hands, meanwhile, explore her thighs. “You’re already so wet,” he whispers.

“Many models of sexual desire and excitement highlight the importance of psychology and foreplay. In fact, some researchers believe— oh —”

Mulder’s kisses move through the curls of her bush. He’s only a few inches from her now. Scully watches him stand up to undress; it takes a lot of strength for her not to get completely distracted by his physique.

“Well. Speaking of sexual excitement...” she murmurs.

Mulder laughs with her, settling back onto the bed. He gives her hips a firm tug to get her into place, then begins kissing her thighs. His hands are on Scully’s hips and waist and breasts, teasing her, stroking her soft skin, helping build the anticipation.

Mulder’s tongue drags over the top of her thigh, hardly an inch from her labia. He moans, sending Scully’s gaze down to him again. He’s just glanced up at her, too, and he’s licking her lips.

“You taste so fucking good, Scully,” he sighs. Again, just out of her line of sight, his tongue moves over the crease of her thigh where her arousal has spread. His lips close around a section of her cum-soaked curls. He sucks, moaning softly, then moves a little higher to do this again. This time, his nose brushes Scully’s labia, and another small movement for the sake of tasting her leads it to press against her clit. He does it again, and by then, Scully’s certain it isn’t an accident. He’s desperately consuming her, all the while being nothing more than a tease. And giving her the tiniest hint of friction to ease her desperation, but not making it overt. It goes on for minutes; Scully’s certain she’s never been so wet in her life—a vicious cycle. Or delicious, for the one between her legs.

Scully doesn’t have to beg—a good thing, because she’d refuse to, on principle. This was, after all, Mulder’s suggestion. Finally satisfied at having a taste of Scully, at taking his time to fully appreciate every inch of her thighs, Mulder moves to her center.

His tongue presses into the source of the sweet taste lingering on his tongue. Warm and wet and addictive. His nose, again, presses against her, making her sigh.

Taking note of this reaction, he moves up her labia, gently suckling her inner lips until he reaches her swollen clit. He begins slowly dragging his lower lip over it, again and again, earning a moan from Scully. Once he’s tested the water, he uses his tongue instead, experimenting with her stroke. Just where she likes it, pressure, pace. He experiments by lapping his tongue between her folds, getting more of her to taste, dragging her cum up to her clit. He explores her cunt again, pressing his tongue into her. Again, she moans.

“Do you want more of this?” Mulder whispers. “Or what I was doing before?”

Scully opens her eyes again, smiling through her daze at him. “Will you... Keep doing this... I’ll tell you when to go back to my cl— yeah.”
Mulder delves back into Scully before she can finish another word. He fucks her slowly with his tongue, wraps his arms beneath her thighs to hold her in place by the very top of her legs. In watching him, Scully notes to herself how much she’d like, very soon, to sit on his face. There’s opportunity for that later; tonight, she wants to relax and let Mulder take care of her.

Scully reaches for Mulder, runs her fingers through his hair to the back of his head. His position adjusts slightly, and his nose brushes her clit again.

“Fuuuck, Mulder... You’re so good,” she moans. So, Mulder moves again, deciding to claim such pleasure as intentional on his part.

She can hear his tongue moving at her entrance; she can feel her cum and his saliva spilling out of her, creating something of a mess on the sheets that will soon smell like him again. She can smell him now; his cologne, his soap, a lingering hint of the wine they shared.

“Okay,” Scully whispers, giving his hair a loving tug. 

Mulder laps up some of the mess he’s made, making long strokes with his tongue all the way to Scully’s clit. He starts by licking it, small strokes, firm pressure. He’s sure there’s so much more nuance to learn, but this seems to be what Scully enjoys—especially if he makes contact with one particular spot on the left side.

As her pleasure heightens, she becomes more inclined to move her hips. Though still holding her there, he welcomes the movement from Scully. 

Her breaths are more than audible now, with moans and sighs scattered in. “Need more,” she tells him.

Mulder seals his lips around her clit and sucks, rolls his tongue over the most sensitive places he’s worked to find. She rolls her hips again, leaving Mulder to move with her, adjust with her, keep the contact and the friction for her. He manages, happily. 

Scully notices Mulder subtly grinding on the bed. Perhaps subconsciously, perhaps by choice. Either way is just as hot to her.

“Touch yourself,” Scully whispers. “Use my cum.”

Mulder groans, going red in the face. He rotates his hip enough to free himself, then delves two fingers into Scully to wet his fingers. By the time she bucks her hips again, she's nearly dripped into his palm. With his pre-cum, and a little of his spit in his hand, it's enough.

“How’s that feel?” Scully asks, breathlessly.

“So good...” 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep sucking my clit like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.... You're so good. God, you're so hot...”

Mulder continues with his mouth, sucking, flicking her clit, letting her fuck his face all she needs. 

“That's it—right there—” Scully gasps, her back arching. Still, Mulder bows his head more to follow her, desperate not to let up. 

His eyes open to take a quick peek at her; she's watching him, brows tense, mouth open.

As soon as her legs tremble, her eyes close, too, and Mulder knows she's right on the edge. He moans against her, gives her hip a little squeeze with the hand still on her body.

Scully's never come like this before; it's almost a sob that escapes her. Beneath his thumb, Mulder feels her abdomen contracting. Her thighs squeeze around his head, burying his face in her. He can't breathe much; he doesn't care in the slightest.

Scully releases him soon, and he gradually slows himself, winding down until he's leaving soft kisses over her clit, her labia, her damp curls.

“God, Mulder...” Scully sighs, pulling him up to join her.

She kisses him passionately, moaning at the taste of herself.

“Was that all okay?” He asks in earnest.

“It was incredible.” Scully laughs, wrapping one arm around him and reaching down between them with the other. She kisses him one more time before smiling at him. “May I touch you now?”

He nods in agreement, and Scully finally wraps her hand around him.

They makeout while she strokes him, copying the pace he had just moments ago.

“Won't last long,” he warns, a shy mumble between kisses.

“That's okay... I love making you cum.”

Mulder holds Scully close, grabbing her ass while they makeout.

She decides to close the distance between them, grinding herself—her lower abdomen, her pelvis—directly against him.

He uses the hand on her ass to guide her. Not that she needs it. There's nobody like Scully. There's nobody that could ever be as in tune with him, his body, as Scully is.

Their foreheads are pressed together when he cums. He stops kissing her when he clenches his jaw to ride it out. The hand never leaves Scully; even with the mess between them, he keeps her close. 

She kisses him, giggling again.

“You're so... So beautiful when you're playful,” Mulder whispers. 

“It takes a lot for me to feel playful.”

“Trust me, Scully... I know.” He's still out of breath, but happy to share another long kiss.

They clean up with a shower before settling into Scully's bed for the night.

“You'll stay, right?” She asks.

“Not like my couch will miss me.”

For a while, Mulder lays with his head on Scully's chest, her fingers in his hair. For a while, neither think about the inevitable question. And when it does come up, in both of their minds—when does all of this have to end? —neither say it aloud. 

The question, the shared, lingering dread, weighs on both of them. They can feel it in the room. Mulder clings to her a little tighter. 

“Goodnight, Scully,” he whispers.

Soon, Scully thinks, but not just yet.

She kisses the top of his head. “Goodnight, Mulder.”