TITLE: Swapping Out Addictions
AUTHOR: Jacquie LaVa
SPOILERS: Brand X
DISCLAIMERS: Faced with MY solution to ‘kicking the habit’… CC would just let Mulder keep puffing away…
SUMMARY: It’s a nasty habit, but somebody’s gotta break it – and Scully finds the way –
“SWAPPING OUT ADDICTIONS”
“Mulder… what are you doing?” He started guiltily, stuffing the contents of his hands into his jacket pockets.
A heavy sigh; she knew better. She knew him – and she could smell it. Damn him – another one. She really thought she’d found all his little stashes. This was getting ridiculous… and she refused, once more, to feel sorry for what she’d done to him – for pumping him so full of nicotine that now they were both suffering for it. Well, if the truth be told – she wasn’t suffering as much as he was. All she had to do was suffer through the smell of it, on his clothes and his breath; worry about his health in general, which she did every day of her life anyway. Mulder had some deeper worries. And she really was responsible. Yes, she’d saved his life – but what a cost, to both of them.
“Mulder, come on… you promised. It’s been a month; this addiction is only going to get stronger if you don’t stop it now.” She moved around the open connecting door of their motel rooms, and gazed at him pleadingly, sitting there on the bed with his hands in his pockets and pink splotches on each cheek. He’d been staring at the floor. At her soft words, his head jerked up, and he stared at her, hard.
“You think it’s that easy, Scully? You used to smoke, years ago, Think back, why don’t you – tell me how easy it was, for you. It takes exactly three cigarettes to get the average person hooked. It can take a lifetime to get them un-hooked. You know that.” He stood abruptly, tossing off the jacket and letting it slide carelessly to the floor. Scully gawked. His brand-new black cashmere jacket – on a heap on the floor. With a lit and smoldering smoke in the pocket. Smoldering… Jesus! She ran to the jacket and dumped the pockets out on the floor, then stepped on the offensive cigarette and faced her angry partner with fresh anger of her own.
“Dammit, Mulder! Nice way to treat a birthday gift! What the hell’s wrong with you! You’ve faced tougher demons than this, and come out on top! Why is this so hard? I know you; I know how driven and relentless you can be when you set yourself a goal. Well, this is just another goal, Partner… just another spot down the road. You know I’m here to help you -” She laid the jacket on his bed and walked over to him, winding her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his. Mulder’s arms came about her slowly, and he returned the embrace, breathing in the freshness that always clung to her hair and her clothes – and getting a definite and unpleasant idea of how he must smell in return, to her. He pulled away gently, setting her at arms’ length, and his eyes regarded her with a mixture of affection and apology.
“Scully, I reek… and I am so sorry about all of this. I never thought I’d ever have to face breaking the habit again – after I quit back in ’91, I just assumed I’d never have to go through this again. I’ve got to get a handle on this, I know I do – but I think I’m gonna need your help. Will you help me?” He stared down at her with the most woebegone eyes; the look in them about broke her heart. She wound her arms around his neck and hugged him, hard; ignoring the smell of smoke which permeated his clothes and skin.
“Well, of course I’ll help you! After all, I got you into this mess, didn’t I? I’ll help you…” She pressed soft lips against his temple, and felt his answering kiss on the corner of her mouth; a kiss which turned into a grateful smile as he whispered a ‘Thanks, Partner’ back to her.
One Week Later
She was going to kill him… she knew that now. Kill him – the only remaining question was: how? What method would best suit the murder of Fox Mulder? Scully knew it wouldn’t take much imagination to choose a creative method. The end result would be the same; he’d be dead, and she’d be free.
Free. She spoke the word aloud, as she dumped yet another full ashtray into the garbage, and began the search for yet another stash of smokes. She finally found them, in the fridge, of all places – crammed into the empty cavity of a whole chicken she’d been planning on roasting for Sunday dinner. She pulled the poor clammy bird out by one fat drumstick leg, and plopped it on the table; staring with disbelieving eyes at the plastic baggie which she removed from its gaping belly. There was half a pack in the baggie… unbelievable, just un-fucking believable. She sank down on a kitchen chair, staring at the bird, and shaking her head in absolute amazement. This one beat all… it truly did. Mentally she reviewed the past week, and her attempts to keep Mulder away from tobacco…
They’d decided he would stay at her apartment, since he just about lived there anyhow. Mulder had packed a bag and grabbed a bunch of work suits and what-not, and by Saturday afternoon was ensconced in her habitat and was doing his level best to drive her nuts. Not that he could help it… he was just being Mulder. His lap-top found its way onto her kitchen table, along with a box of slides, a slide projector, a few dozen file folders, about ten magazines ranging from Sci-Fi Monthly to the latest Enquirer – which he still insisted had the most factual articles on the paranormal – and he left a very small edge of the table clear, for such mundane things as food and meals. His size- God-knows-what sneakers ended up on the rug in front of her apartment door, and she managed to trip over them on a regular basis. She couldn’t understand it – when he stayed over, nothing ever ended up out of place, even if he brought over a change of clothes. Suddenly he was here for a planned period of occupancy, and her place ceased to be her own.
Her bedroom had become ‘Mulder Central’, with suits and shirts and tacky ties and socks draped everywhere. She refused to pick them up, and did her best to ignore them. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to at least keep a corner of the room free of Mulderwear. After about two days, she finally exploded… when she found his jock strap in her sink, soaking in a fragrant solution of bleach and her best shower gel.
“MULDER! COULD YOU COME IN HERE… PLEEAASSEE…??” Scully sat on the edge of the bed, and waited. He walked in with half a ham sandwich shoved in his mouth and a beer in his hand – and Scully never said a word, when he mumbled, “What?” around the bread and meat in his cheeks; she just grabbed hold of his ear and dragged him into the bathroom and over to her once-pristine sink and pointed to the offending item of male underwear floating in her expensive shower gel. Still not saying a word, Scully removed the beer from Mulder’s hand and tugged at his sandwich until he relinquished it with a tiny !snap! of his teeth. She pointed once again at the soapy mess in her sink and simply walked away. Mulder swallowed the lump of meal in his mouth and his murmured, “Sorry, Scully,” brought a reluctant smile to her face. He spent the rest of the day cleaning up his mess, while Scully sat with her feet up, reading a suspense novel.
By noon the next day, her apartment looked a lot neater, and Scully was feeling much better – then a day or so later she began to detect the faint aura of smoke, hanging in the apartment like a stale mantle despite the multitude of sprays and potpourri he smeared everywhere. It took her one full day of searching and digging around before she found the crumpled pack – hidden in the toilet paper roll (still on the holder, incredibly); she confronted him with it, and got puppy-dog eyes and a fervent promise to ‘Never Do it Again’… and after he spent an hour in the bathroom ridding himself of every last essence of smoke smell, he took Scully to bed and proceeded to love her into oblivion. Quite an apology – Scully still trembled when she thought about it, days later.
As a matter of fact, she was thinking of it right now – sitting at the kitchen table facing a dead slimy chicken stuffed with Morleys. Thinking she’d had a horrid week, despite Mulder’s every attempt to make it up to her (and the man sure knew how to make it up to her! Lord…) – and there had to be a way around this; had to be something she could bribe him with, a way to make him see that his health and hers was the most important issue. She poked at the dumb bird with one tapered finger, thinking, plotting…
Smiling widely, when she suddenly hit upon the perfect plan.
“Mulder? Could you come in here, please?” At the sound of Scully’s soft voice, Mulder’s head popped up, his glasses slipping down his nose as his fingers stilled on the lap-top keyboard. He’d been finishing up a report, and dying for a smoke – but he didn’t dare try sneaking one. Scully had been acting squirrely all day; she was up to something, he could feel it. In her present mood, whatever it was – she could easily shoot him again, he was sure of it. He knew how angry she was – and she had every right. He’d done everything in his power to thwart all her help and stomp on her support, knowing he was only hurting himself. It took several days of abuse to his body before he realized he was hurting her as well. But he couldn’t stop – this time the damn nicotine had a tight grip, worse than it ever had all those years ago when he smoked two packs a day. He was in a panic, wondering what to do – when he hit upon the idea of stashing the smokes in the weirdest places he could think of, figuring she’d never find out. Hoping that if she didn’t know it wouldn’t hurt her. So far his plan had been a miserable flop. She found every hiding place, cleaned them out and dumped them all – and she never said a word. Not a word. She acted as if she had not discovered anything…
She also acted colder than the Arctic in January, in bed at night. She kissed him goodnight and turned away and wrapped herself into the blankets and sighed herself to sleep – and left him awake and horny and tight with desire, next to her in the big bed – and craving a cigarette more than ever.
But something had happened today – he wished he knew what it was. She’d been very sweet to him all day; had gone to a lot of trouble and had cooked him a fabulous meal and had gone in after dinner and had taken a long soak in the tub and had emerged smelling of jasmine and lavender. She’d pressed a small kiss to the top of his head as she walked by the kitchen table where he sat, trying to concentrate on anything but his raging gonads; had grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses and had disappeared into the bedroom – and had locked the door behind her.
That had been over an hour ago.
Now as the door opened, and her voice wafted out to him, calling him so sweetly… Mulder couldn’t help but wonder what sort of torture she had planned for him. And so he sat at the kitchen table and alternated between wanting to leap on Scully and devour her whole… or smoke an entire pack of Morleys, all at once. He decided on neither – just got up from the table and moved hesitantly into the bedroom, steeling himself for the worst: she was packing his shit up and kicking him out, drinking the wine as a celebratory gesture as she tossed his clothes out the window…
Actually, the reality was, in its own way, far worse.
Candles, everywhere; glowing and flickering in the warmth of her fragrant bedroom. Her perfume hanging in the air; the jasmine making his head spin… bedcovers turned back on both sides of the bed, plump pillows stacked invitingly and in repose against those pillows… Scully. In a pale peach and cream lace teddy. Hair waving softly about her lovely face. Eyes half-closed, gazing at him as she sipped at a glass of deep red wine. Small smile curving her rosebud mouth. Mulder could almost feel his knees buckle with the flooding tidal wave of lust which roared through him; days of forced abstinence bringing him up, hard and hot and full, in about one second flat… he found himself stumbling toward the bed, hands reaching out for her, a groan bubbling itself out of his throat…
Only to come up, short and shocked – at the barrel of the gun – his gun! – which she had pointed dead-on at his heart. He’d been so busy gaping and drooling at her, he’d never noticed the gun. She pointed to the foot of the bed with his weapon, and spoke one firm word: “Sit.”
Scully placed the glass of wine carefully on the nightstand, and held the gun in both hands, still pointed at Mulder’s chest – and her words started out, soft and low. “I have had a very difficult week, Mulder. Did you know that? NO, DON’T SAY A WORD!” – as he attempted to speak. “Do not attempt to speak, or so help me I will shoot you dead. I am not kidding, Mulder. Now, where was I? Oh, yes…
“As I said, a very tough week. You are quite a slob, you know; but I could live with that, I really could. After all, I love you, Mulder – so I can put up with a lot of Mulder-related shit. I could live with the socks cluttering up my floor and the ties draped all over my lamps and even your nasty jock strap soaking in my very expensive shower gel. I could live with all that.” Still holding the gun, Scully raised up on her knees, and reached behind her pillow with one hand; pulling a plastic bag out from underneath the frilly edge of the pillowcase; a plastic bag which looked very familiar to Mulder. His eyes widened, as she held it up in front of her face, and his muttered, “Oh, SHIT,” made her almost smile. She threw the bag at him and it landed in his lap.
“What I cannot live with is the little ‘secret stashes’ I am finding all over the apartment. Each one represents a cop-out, Mulder – each one counts as a lie – and I cannot abide your lies. Lying to me, to yourself – you’ve never done that before, never. And I know I’m to blame, for putting you in this kind of position, where you felt you had to lie to me, sneak around… I take responsibility for it, even though we both know it was the only way to save your life. I will take the heat for that.” Mulder hung his head, eyes closed; one tear squeezed out and dropped on the baggie still in his lap. He didn’t know what to say. Scully forced down her own tears; she had to stay tough, had to get through this for both of them.
“Mulder, I found that bag of shit in my Sunday dinner. I guess it was the proverbial last straw – I’d had enough. I think you’ve had enough, as well. Obviously you don’t want to quit badly enough… but you will, because I am issuing you an ultimatum, of sorts. Take a good look around this room -” she gestured with her free hand; asking him to take stock of everything which was beautiful and desirable, including her – “and remember what you see… because from now on, until you finally quit smoking for good – every time you sneak a weed, I’m going to put you out in the cold so fast it’ll make your head spin – and for every day you remain smoke-free, I’m going to fuck your brains out, over and over until you can’t tell which end is up.” She laid the gun down and on her hands and knees, crawled toward him with burning eyes staring straight down into his soul. “I am going to use my tongue in the most imaginative ways, over every inch of that luscious skin of yours – as long as it smells of Armani and not Morleys. I’m going to scrape my nails up and down each one of your balls; send a thousand tiny bites over your body, until you beg me for the full shot – and then I’m going to open wide and let you plunge in head-first… and I’m going to scream my head off when I come, and make damn sure I take you with me as I go over the cliff.” Her low, raspy words roughed over Mulder and he shuddered and actually heard himself whimpering. He couldn’t take it any longer; Scully was so close to him, and her eyes were eating him alive, burning him – he grabbed for her – and got a noseful of gun for his troubles. In his blinding desire he’d not seen the gun, still between them on the bed. Scully grinned at the look of shock; his pleading, “Scully, please…” falling on a deaf ears and a determined resolve. She shook her head at him.
“Not tonight, Mulder – not yet. I just wanted you to see what you’d be giving up. That’s all. I have lots of candles – and another bottle of wine. There are no more smokes in the house – I made sure of it. We have Monday off – I made sure of that, as well. You stay clean all of tonight, and all of tomorrow – and in twenty-four hours I’ll make you glad to be alive and smoke-free; this I promise you.” She leaned in, close to his face; still holding the gun on him, she kissed his nose, and her little tongue flicked at his bottom lip, before she pulled away and left him sitting there, hard and dazed; tossed a blanket and a fat pillow at him and whispered, “See you in twenty-four, Mulder. Same place… different circumstances.” He picked up the bedding and stumbled out to the living room, still wondering how on earth she’d managed to fob him off so easily… and knowing with certain resolve that she would have shot him, for sure.
He couldn’t wait until tomorrow night…
Twenty-four Hours Later
He’d been a very good boy – and he could prove it. It had been the toughest thing he’d ever done, but he had managed to stay away from the smokes. Scully had left him alone all day. Claiming to have a lot of shopping and such to do, refusing to let him come with her – he knew she was testing him. Daring him to cheat. Well, he hadn’t cheated – not once.
He’d spent the day playing basketball until he wanted to drop from exhaustion; his buddies had worked him hard. Three games in a row – and his team, the Skins – had won all but one game. And they would have aced that one as well, if Mulder’s lung capacity had been its normal healthy self. Which pissed him off to no end – which also contributed to his resolve to leave the Morleys alone. That, and the visual snapshot from Sunday night, of what awaited him when he got home later on. Hell, that alone could have propelled him across the burning Sahara on his knees naked, with his nuts dragging in the sand… Mulder grinned as he pulled up to Scully’s apartment building, and collected his gym gear from the trunk. He felt great. Tired, but great. Reamed from the inside out, and dying for a smoke – but great.
He looked at the craving as a sign of things to come – of how he would swap one addiction for another, in just a few hours. He bounded into the elevator and hit the button; bouncing on the balls of his feet, impatient; anxious…
Inside her apartment, Scully lit the last few candles, and dabbed a bit more jasmine behind each ear and the backs of her knees. She felt nervous, which was downright silly – but nervous nonetheless. And she could actually understand why; it was rather the same feeling as going into the final game of the season; or stepping onto that Broadway stage with a whole cast depending upon your performance. A performance – that’s just what it felt like. Her performance… and she had the insane notion that if she didn’t make it great, make it memorable and the absolute best Mulder had ever experienced – then she would lose him. Lose him to a damn addiction. And if she lost that part of him – more importantly, if he lost that part of himself – then God only knew what would follow. It was a weakness, so strongly reminiscent of their enemy, Mulder’s supposed “dad” – a true example of the way a ‘Dark Side’ could overtake a man, and suck him down. Scully sighed; of course she was being melodramatic. But that didn’t stop her from her decision to pull out all the stops, tonight. She turned off the overhead lights, popped the cork on the wine, and lay upon the bed to wait.
She smelled him before she saw him – and this time the odor was a welcome one. MulderSweat – mmmm. This she could deal with, she decided; as he came around the door of her bedroom, his eyes widening with delight and desire as he saw the object of his day-long fantasy, spread out on the pillows, exactly as she’d been last night. Candles, even more of them – and fat pillows. And more wine. And Scully in a midnight blue satin and lace teddy… she’d kept her promise. Mulder allowed himself a long moment to just stare at her, drinking it all in; needing that particular drink much more than water – and then, before she could speak, and before he succumbed to the need to rub every inch of her all over himself – Mulder ran for the bathroom, locked the door, and proceeded to scrub the shit out of himself. Clean, cleaner, cleanest – Scully’s delicate skin deserved nothing less. He spent a precious forty-five minutes getting spotless for her, even spiking his damp hair, the way he knew she liked it (though she would never admit it), and finally emerged from the bathroom clean, smelling of Armani – and naked. He stood at the foot of her bed, arms hanging loosely at his sides, not knowing what to do next; letting her call the shots.
Scully lifted one hand and crooked a finger at him, a small smile dancing on her mouth. Mulder shuddered and his knees hit the bed; he moved toward her, and that mountain of pillows, never losing eye contact with her. On his hands and knees like a big, deceptively tame-looking jungle cat; all smoky eyes and feral grin. God help her… When he got within grabbing distance, her small hand came up, palm outwards, and he stopped, frozen in place. She smiled again; such an obedient Mulder. She was beginning to enjoy this…
“Tell me, Mulder… have you been good? You smelled good – I could detect it from the doorway; nothing but good, clean sweat. It smelled very, very nice; I’m proud of you. Twenty-four hours. Believe me, I would have known if you had cheated. Trust me on that.” Mulder nodded his head; he did trust her. He couldn’t imagine how she would know, but she would have. That was just the way of it. He focused on her as she spoke again, her voice dropping lower.
“You kept your end of the deal, Mulder – so I’m keeping mine. Tonight is all for you. Everything you want – everything you need – for you. And tomorrow night as well, if you continue to be good – continue to smell this good. Turn around, baby – and stay on your hands and knees.” His groan of anticipation made her stomach flutter; that, and the spectacular view of him, on hands and knees, smooth tight MulderAss facing her, strong forearms holding himself up. God… so gorgeous. Scully slid across the width of the bed, stopping within about six inches of him, and traced the strong lines of his back, over the muscles bunched there, down the planes of his shoulderblades and curving over that fabulous ass of his; both cheeks getting equal time as she trailed her fingers down the backs of each thigh, and ended with a gentle caress of the backs of his knees. She followed her journey with her wet tongue… the same path, tickling down over the same terrain.
She smiled. So responsive… no matter what she did to him, for him. She loved that about him; wondered if he knew what a huge turn-on it was for her, to be the one who made him whimper. Not a moan – not a groan, exactly. Whatever the sound was, it always zoomed into her ears and found its way deep into her very bones – and set her on fire.
She wanted to hear it again – and again – tonight. And she wanted to tell him, so much… Scully was not a talker during sex; had always been the quiet little receiver – not uttering more than a sigh or a moan, and once or twice she had whispered a raspy, “God, Mulder” or “Don’t stop.” And she would lie beneath him as he spoke to her, waxing poetic about the softness of her skin, or the feel of her silky depths as he buried himself within. Mulder loved the words; needed the words. Words which made her cheeks flame cherry red despite the fact that she loved to receive them… loved the way they made her feel. Special – cherished – adored –
Well, tonight he was going to get the words – regardless of how shy speaking them would render her – or how difficult it would be to find them. She was going to tell him everything she’d been storing up, over months of spectacular intimacy, incredible sex and treasured afterglow – she was going to tell him. She only hoped she could pull it off, make him believe. Because this was all for him. She licked her way up the back of one leg as she trailed her fingertips along the other, and listened to his breathing change; becoming erratic. Under her tongue she could feel his muscles clenching, tighter as she moved ever closer to her goal. And when her tongue brushed him, there between those tight cheeks of his… the sounds he huffed into his pillow just about did her in. That sound she loved… she did it again, a little longer – a bit harder. He sucked in a hissing breath and shuddered. Fighting to keep her own needs in check, Scully began to speak, each low syllable vibrating against his warm skin.
“You taste the way you smell, Mulder – like hot silk. I could kiss you for hours… everywhere. All over your back, just like this – up and down and across each rib…” She punctuated her words with a lingering demonstration, her mouth and tongue slipping with loving thoroughness along his body as her hand moved to cup and hold him. Mulder gasped and shuddered again, rocking himself against her palm; the feel of her fingers pressing around him while her mouth caressed his sensitive back was almost too much – and he knew she was only beginning. And he didn’t know how on earth he was going to last long enough to return the favor – but if it took a visualization of the grisliest, most horrible images in the world, to keep him from blowing it – he would dredge them up. Otherwise he’d never make it – for her words were affecting him like nothing he had ever imagined. He could feel her nudging at his knees, wanting them further apart. Mulder slowly complied, bracing himself on his forearms as he re-positioned his legs. Heard a rustling of sheets behind him – and found himself looking down, straight into Scully’s hot stare, as her head appeared below him, between his thighs. She grinned up at him.
“Oh, I like the view from down here, Mulder – I truly do. Is all of that for me?” That was threatening to poke her eyes out, but Scully just smiled again, and the tip of her tongue curled out and lapped at him with delicate precision; Mulder groaned and forced out a ragged, “Sculleee…” She sent a little chuckle into his overheated flesh, and her lips followed her tongue and both wrapped around him, taking him in. Into incredible heat.
Mulder found himself having to think of those grisly images, just to stay alive.
Up and down, over and around – mmmm, Scully thought to herself. Indulging in one of her favorite pastimes meant she couldn’t actually speak words; tell Mulder things. Things she had wanted to say to him for months – ever since the first time she’d leapt into his arms and he’d carried her over his shoulder in a careless fireman’s hold, through her living room and into her bedroom and down onto her plump down comforter; the softness of it engulfing them both as they hit the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs and aroused body parts. Mulder had surfaced first; had straddled her hips and just stared down at her, drinking it all in. She’d not been able to fathom what he found so mesmerizing; she just wanted him in; instantly inside where it ached and burned. Mulder would not be rushed along, however; he’d tugged at her clothes slowly, uncovering her inch by inch… paying verbal homage to each new wondrous part of her. It had been the most erotic thing anyone had ever done to her, even though she had flushed bright red and had mostly stayed in that condition throughout their first intimacy. But the words, how they drew her in – how they made her believe, at last – in her own power and validity as a sensual woman; a desirable and much-loved woman. Words were so powerful – sometimes more so than actions. Combined with those same actions, they were lethal… in the very best way. Time to combine, Scully decided, as she gave him one more deep stroke, and released him; keeping the stroking contact going with her hand as she looked up into his darkened eyes.
“There’s nothing I like better than to swallow you whole, Mulder… unless it’s the way you feel when you’re buried so far inside me that you can’t find your way back out…” She wiggled upon the slippery sheets, headed toward the mound of pillows; until she could tug on him and have him fall upon her, full-length; her aim unerring as his body covered her in perfect alignment, and he found himself sliding into her before he even knew it. So deep – and she was hot and slick as she closed around him; they both gasped. Mulder sent a shuddery groan into her ear, as he struggled to stay focused; to last long enough for her to make it as well. He took her gently at first, with long and tender thrusts; his mouth doing delicious things to her throat, feeling with his lips the words she murmured to him as he moved within her.
“So good, baby; always been my baby… from the first. God, you’re so deep… I want to keep you inside me forever, where you’re meant to be; never want you anywhere else, oh Mulder right there…” Her words were shredding his resolve, and he fought to keep his focus but it was so hard, so damn hard. Finally understanding why she came apart in his arms when he spoke to her during sex; he’d never known the effect of love words because no woman had ever said much to him, other than ordering him around. Telling him to kiss that or bite this – but never words of love… never like this. Broken, run-on phrases spoken in a low rasp of ScullyVoice, as her fingers alternately gripped, caressed and teased.
“…Love you, oh God don’t stop never stop – every time you’re inside me feels like heaven -” She was moaning the words down into his throat as they moved and delved against and through each others’ souls. Mulder wound his hands into her hair and hung on tightly, his open mouth fused to hers. And harder and faster the flurry of thrusts, until he couldn’t hold onto it any longer; Scully’s words becoming hoarse gasps of need which pushed him higher and higher until with a sob, she clenched around him – sending him over the cliff, both of them tumbling over each other until they hit the ground – the mattress – below them. Still joined tightly, crushing her; Mulder covering her like a hot, damp blanket of skin which smelled delicious. He began to move away, worried as always that he was too heavy for her – and Scully twined her legs around him and refused to let him leave. “No, stay, I love the way you feel afterwards; feels as if you’re sinking down into my bones and soaking into my blood… you’re not too heavy, you’re perfect.” More words to make him tremble; and he did – but he stopped trying to move away, and relaxed his muscles fully upon her, pressed his face into the pillow next to hers and simply gazed into her sleepy eyes. An inch away from breathing in her very breath, as she whispered to him, her hands softly rubbing against his smooth skin.
“By the way, Mulder – if I haven’t told you yet, how proud I am of you for licking that rotten smoking habit of yours…” He chuckled and finished the sentence, kissing her lips sweetly, still sheathed snugly within her and making a very comfortable home for himself.
“I’ll consider it told. Just keep talking, Scully – I find your words very, very inspiring…” As if to prove his words true, he pushed against her; letting her feel the re-awakening which was happening deep within her. Scully’s wide eyes stared up at him, marveling at the feel of him – sinking down into her bones just as she’d described. She whispered into his ear as he began to slip in and out once more.
“It’s officially twenty-five hours later, Mulder – you’re starting another day smoke-free. Guess I’ll have to start all over again, won’t I? Start with some more words, aimed right at you… This time maybe I’ll tell you all about the way your mouth feels when it’s buried against me and your tongue works such magic in complete and utter tandem with that gorgeous bottom lip of yours…”
And Mulder whimpered.