Title: Je Souhait - le verite
Summary: The strory behind Je Souhait, the bits we never got to see. Rating: NC-17, yep, it's gonna be smutty. Spoilers: None, its not real.
Distribution: Anywhere - but please let me know so that I can visit. Disclaimer: If I owned them they'd never be allowed on prime-time. Feedback: Will used to decorate the walls of my crappy flat.
"Morning!" Dana Scully says the words before she has the door open fully, the greeting spilling out more from habit than formality as she marches into the room, a smile on her face that has not left her lips since the moment she woke. Realising she has disturbed her partner, she raises an eyebrow and mouths her enquiry to Mulder. He hurriedly introduces her, bringing her up to date on the details of the case. He barely conceals a laugh at her shock upon seeing the monstrous Jay Gilmore. Agent Dana Scully is not shocked easily. She moves around the desk to stand beside where Mulder is seated, taking the case file he holds out to her and perching on the edge of the filing cabinet.
As Gilmore explains his `condition,' Scully finds it hard to listen. The case seems silly, a waste of their time, but she refuses to allow it to bring her down from her good mood. She glances over to Mulder, who is watching her as she questions Gilmore, and is struck by how good he looks. He is wearing the white shirt she left on the back of his chair that morning. It sets off his tan, remaining from their trip to California and she thinks of the last time she saw that shirt. Short of a nightgown of her own, she had taken the white dress shirt from his wardrobe before finding him in the kitchen, preparing her coffee earlier that morning. She left the shirt out for him to find when she had dressed in her own clothes. She had left him shaving at the sink, roughly two hours ago. Scully forces herself to concentrate on what Gilmore is saying, but feels a blush rise as she catches sight of the drip of coffee she splashed on the cuff when Mulder crowded her against the work-surface, kissing her and making her slop the liquid slightly in the mug he handed her.
Later, as they sit on the plane, flying to wherever the hell it is, Scully is thinking about that shirt again. Mulder feels her eyes on him and glances over, catching her goofy expression and knowing what she is thinking instantly. He grins and drops a sly kiss to the corner of her mouth, making her jump and scowl at him.
"Not on the clock, Mulder," she chastises, but her smile creeps back when he leans close again.
"Who does the shirt look better on?" He whispers into her ear, making her squirm in her seat and blush as the woman in the next seat tuts at her fidgeting. Scully holds herself rigid and returns her attention to the folder in her lap, but she can feel the heat of Mulder's body to her right and it makes her tingle from head to toe. She annotates the page she is staring at, adding idle thoughts in an effort to focus. Just as she thinks she is getting somewhere, Mulder asks for her notebook and she hands it to him with a frown. She is lost in thought when he hands the little black book back and she takes it, quickly beginning to jot down a list before she looses her train of thought, planning their course of action. Just as she finishes, she feels the telltale pressure change in her ears and the flight attendant announces their descent. Scully flips the book shut and slips it inside her jacket. They busy themselves with collecting their things and the notebook is forgotten as they rush through the process of collecting their baggage and renting a car.
It is only once they are safely in their rental car that Scully returns to her notes, checking an address as they drive to the Stokes' home. She spots Mulder's spidery handwriting as she flips through, an alien presence amongst her own concise bullet-points. She frowns at the invasion and scans over his words briefly, expecting some annoying little anecdote or theory. She is surprised by what she sees and glances up at Mulder, a flush creeping along her throat: `Every time I move I can smell your perfume on my shirt.' Her mouth opens as she rereads it, feeling arousal strike low in her stomach. Scully closes the book and drops it on the dashboard, her search for the address forgotten as Mulder pulls the car over.
Their banter has been quick and comfortable all day, each feeding off of the other's good mood. Scully's enthusiasm and excitement at the invisible corpse of Anson Stokes, although somewhat disturbing, delights Mulder. He cannot help but tease her as she stands before him, dabbing yellow powder onto the leg of the invisible man, a silly smile on her face. She completes the task, filling in the spot he points out to her and they argue lightly as he tells her the story of Henry Flankin and his `chronic morbid tumescence.'
Mulder is grinning as his excited partner feigns indifference and tells him that it isn't a good idea to leave the body unguarded. Mulder turns to leave, making it out of the door, still smiling. He reaches the end of the corridor before his mischievous nature gets the better of him and he returns, needing to see her just once more. He opens the door, startling her. He taps the end of her nose, smudged with yellow powder. She is tiny in her flat lab-shoes and Mulder cannot resist dusting the powder from her cheek too. She raises an eyebrow in warning, silently reminding him that their relationship must remain strictly platonic whilst on the job, but Mulder shrugs, filling her personal space suddenly, and kissing her mouth quickly. She gasps and steps back, knowing that he is taking advantage of her excitement and it takes all of her self-discipline to chastise him. She curses her complexion as the blush rises.
"I know, I know," Mulder is still grinning, his own nose yellow now, "I couldn't help it!" He moves towards the door, knowing she'll kick his ass for his next comment, "You just looked so damned cute!" Her eyes flash murderous at him and Mulder makes his exit. She is left laughing, calling up the corridor after him,
"Mulder, you son of a bitch!" Mulder raises his hands in surrender as his rounds the corner, out of sight.
"I should just shoot myself." Scully is hiding her face in her hands as Mulder performs yet another search of the morgue locker. He glances up at her words, feeling slightly squeamish about having to sweep the locker with his hand again. He hates that sort of thing. Scully does the dead stuff, he deals with the running and the fighting. That is how they balance things out. She had called him shortly after she had sheepishly sent the specialists away, cringing at the sheer embarrassment. She had wished the world would swallow her whole. Mulder had, of course, found the whole thing terribly funny. He had laughed his ass off when she had relayed the story. He had drawn her into a hug and consoled her, apologising for always managing to find the funny side, before sitting her down and searching the morgue for the invisible corpse, expecting to trip over it at any moment. Of course, he didn't. And now his partner wants to kill herself from the shame of it all.
They spent the afternoon in the office of the Mark Twain Trailer Park, discussing life in fifteenth century France with a genii. Great. Scully is characteristically sceptical. And still pissed about the whole invisible man thing. And her elbows and knees are killing her from her fall during the explosion. And now the genii is telling them that Mulder is her new master. Great.
"He unrolled me." Scully raises an eyebrow, dubious to say the least. She can see the quick conclusion to the case circling the drain. So much for a quiet evening in front of the television for the two of them.
The flight home is tense. On arrival at the airport, Scully is quick to show her disapproval as she grabs her bag and exits with barely a goodbye. The whole day has been a trial, and frankly, she needs some time alone. She has a bad feeling about this Jen woman. And Scully isn't often wrong about bad feelings.
"Can't believe you don't want butter on your popcorn," Mulder inserts the video into the recorder and carries their plain popcorn to the table. He slings the bowl onto the table in mock disgust, "Eugh, its un-American." He grins as he drops onto the couch, grabbing his beer and the remote. His partner is unimpressed by his choice of film.
"It's a classic American movie." Mulder twists the lid from the bottle as Scully grabs hers, slumping down onto the couch.
"That's what every guy says. It's a guy movie." Her voice is babyish, grumpy at not getting her own way. The smile playing at the corners of her lips betrays her annoyed act. Mulder knows she is teasing him. They both know he always gives her exactly what she wants. She always plays along, letting him pretend he ever has a choice.
"So invite me over to your place, we can watch Steel Magnolias." Mulder's voice drops seductively, plying her for an invitation. His partner is making no commitments tonight, letting him work for her forgiveness. Scully tosses her bottle-cap expertly into the bin. Mulder mimics her action and misses, making her laugh around the neck of her bottle. He pouts in disappointment as she takes a mouthful, her cheeks filling as the liquid fizzes in her mouth. There is a moment that could be considered awkward as Mulder fiddles with the remote, trying to get the video to play.
"So, um, what's the occasion?" She frowns, wondering suddenly if they are on the same track. It has been a crazy week and the tensions between them after Jen finally left have meant that they have stayed apart for few days, allowing things to calm down. They haven't made love for nearly a week. Mulder and Scully never were good at discussing their feelings, even before they got involved.
"Just...seemed like the thing to do." They finally look at one another and the apology is there, unspoken. "Cheers." Scully feels the frown leave her face and her forehead straightens out. "I don't know if you noticed, but..." Mulder pauses, drawing the moment out, keeping her guessing. He knows she had been dying to as him about his wish, but is too stubborn to ever ask him outright, "I never made the world a happier place." His voice lets her hear some of his dejection, but also lets her know that he took her advice. Maybe one man shouldn't make the world a better place with just one wish.
"Well...I'm fairly happy, that's something." Mulder recognises the challenge in her voice as she tries to suppress a smile, knowing that Mulder will try to make her `fairly happy' into `ecstatic' later on. Meanwhile, Scully knows she has to keep up the game. Mulder's eyes flick over her before he returns to his beer, feigning disinterest. She plays her trump card, drawing him over the edge. "So what was your last wish, anyway?" Scully tries to make it sound like she doesn't really care, but she feels her heart-rate increase as Mulder meets her eyes. He smiles, showing teeth with this one and allows his eyes to drag over her mouth and down to her chest before he looks away again, taking another swig of his beer.
Scully frowns at his lack of an answer and ponders her next action for a minute, too lost in her own thought to acknowledge her partner twisting sideways on the couch until it is too late. His hand slides across her stomach, quickly displacing the hem of her shirt and finding skin as his mouth meets hers, tasting of beer and popcorn. She smiles into his kiss, acknowledging that she has been caught out and slides as far down as the coffee table will let her. They both still hold their beers and Mulder pulls away to take a final swig of his before setting it down behind him. Then he grasps hers and takes a long pull before discarding that too. He kisses her hard, his tongue driving into her mouth and making her moan. Mulder's body rises above her, causing her to add a gasp to the moan, and he slides his knee up and into the space between her thigh and the cushions on the couch. He settles himself, his crotch grinding down against hers, letting her know how aroused he is, and that he has been for some time. Scully groans her approval. She is as turned on as he is. She has been desperate for his touch since reading his note in her notebook, almost a week ago.
His hand snakes upwards, finding the moulded cup of her bra and deciding that the whole get-up has to go. He adds a second hand, leaning his weight more heavily upon her as he struggles to free the white t-shirt. The bra is next to go as Scully lets him do as he will with her, her hair spread over the arm of the chair and her hands above her head to allow him maximum access.
Mulder knows her plan. She wants him to do all the work tonight, while she languishes beneath his touch. He grins, the arrangement fine by him. After all, it means he gets to decide what position they end up in. His mouth leaves hers and descends upon one rounded breast, hovering momentarily to draw the nipple upwards with his hot breath. Scully sighs beneath him. Mulder's hips are thrusting rhythmically, if unconsciously, against her and she shifts slightly, changing the angle, which means he is hitting her just right. She stifles the sound that rises in her throat.
It isn't long before the moans are coming unrestrained. Mulder has managed to remove her pants and most of his own clothes before moving south. He wants her so badly that he has to force himself to slow down, to make things last. He goes down on her in an effort to give himself time to calm down. She is whimpering as he slides the flat of his tongue over her, one hand pressing down on her stomach whilst the other thrusts gently against her. The noises she is making are turning him on even more and Mulder can no longer fight it. He has to have her. Right now.
He withdraws, taking one final suck of her clit before straightening. Mulder's knees pop as he stands, naked except for his ludicrously tented shorts, and they hit the floor in a matter of seconds. Scully whines her disappointment, but the whine becomes a gasp when she sees the glint in his eyes.
"I want to take you from behind." The words are a statement, growled at her as Mulder circles his finger in the air, just in case she doesn't understand. Scully swallows hard before slipping to her knees and bending over the couch. She kneels on the floor and presses her breasts into the leather cushions. The fabric beneath her is damp and she shudders at the cool air of the room on her back. Her hip bumps against the wood trim of the couch as she shifts to accommodate Mulder as he lowers himself to cover her back.
Mulder leans his weight into her, his hands separating her thighs. Her knees clunk against the floorboards until he is finally happy. He slides a hand over her thighs, feeling her shudder and release the breath she was holding. Scully pushes her bottom upwards, encouraging him. He leans his mouth down close to her ear and tells her she has to wait, that the waiting will be worth it.
His hands stroke over her flesh and into her, making her wriggle at the contact. It is strange to feel his fingers entering her from behind, her hips thrust forward out of habit and she is delighted to find that the pressure sends shivers up her spine that radiate out across her shoulder-blades. Scully feels him rise up slightly, positioning himself and suddenly gliding inside with a comfortable, well-practised manoeuvre. She sighs, finally filled after a week of tension and bringing herself off in the shower. Mulder is finally going to give her peace. She shudders again in anticipation. Mulder is pressed so tightly to her back that his thrusts lift her body without the use of his hands. She tries to mirror his rhythm with her hips, but finds it difficult to arch back each time so quickly. Scully is glad when he reaches around to tilt her pelvis back, holding her still before pulling her further down on the couch and hitting her from a new angle.
His new-found direction allows him to slide his free hand around her, holding her still as he slams into her from behind, and he can reach right between her legs. Every backwards drag elicits a delicious little grunt from her and his questing fingers between her thighs has increased her breathing tenfold. The week of tension has made them both volatile, to an extent that Scully has been on the verge of orgasm since her partner expressed his desire to fuck her from behind. The mere phrase was enough to set her off. Now she is so overly sensitive that she does not think she will ever get there.
As though reading her thoughts, Mulder takes her hips and sits back on his haunches, pulling her onto his lap. Without breaking his rhythm of slow outward pulls and gentle but rapid inward plunges, he arranges her so as she can reach the edge of the sofa for support, but he still has room for leverage. He is supporting most of her weight, and they are both glad that Scully is so tiny. Her thighs begin to tense as the heat of a pending orgasm finally to radiate through her. She is sweating and Mulder's grip is beginning to slip. Scully prays that she comes soon, because she cannot stand the though of being left hanging. She wonders if she could die from lack of orgasm.
Mulder's thrusts are much shorter from this angle and each entry bumps in the exact spot she needs him.
"Oh, God, right there!" She hears a voice say. It is too high to be Mulder, but she doesn't recognise it as her own. It is tinny and breathless, desperate and she ponders its origin as it continues to moan and wail. She is just connecting the sound in her ears to the raw sensation in her throat as she finally shatters, orgasm tearing her apart and spreading the pieces so far and wide Scully finds herself unable to breath. Her lungs fill deeper and deeper with oxygen, but are suddenly incapable of exhaling. Her chest feels so full of air that she wishes it would break open to release the pressure, but it keeps filling and filling. Her ears are ringing and the muscles of her thighs are like steel with the force of the orgasm that just keeps uncoiling from somewhere within her, and that voice is still in her ears, only this time it is deeper and hoarser and accompanied by a hot rushing sensation deep within her. Her chest finally admits defeat, unable to take in any more oxygen, her lungs finally push the air from them, useless now. `Deoxygenated'. Her brain supplies the word as the white noise begins to clear and her chest heaves with the relief at having survived such an immense physical reaction to the man upon whose thighs she comes to rest, sticky, sweating and exhausted.
Beneath her, Mulder's thrusts slow to a stop. His muscles groan as his partner rests her weight unceremoniously atop his thighs, squeezing them down. He relishes in the sweet ache of exertion as he coaxes Scully forward to lean on the couch. She groans as he slips free of her body, the cool air in the room making her damp skin unbearably cold without Mulder's body-heat. Behind her, Mulder pulls himself to stand and loops an arm around her waist. Scully allows him to lift her to her feet, feeling thoroughly limp, like a little rag doll. She straightens her legs as he sets her down, acquiescing if only to stave off the cramp that she feels about to set in.
Scully turns to face her naked partner, sleepily drooping forward to rest her head on his chest. Mulder wraps an arm around her, his hearty chuckle resonating in her ears. She smiles as she feels the laugh vibrate through his chest.
"Come on, sleepyhead." Mulder grins endearingly down upon his partner's head, knowing that if they don't hit the shower soon, she will be asleep in his arms before he has washed the soap off. He loves sleepy Scully, when her face relaxes and her eyes become clear and innocent, when she forgets to demand respect and be closed about allowing Mulder to care for her. He loves to make her forget about Agent Scully, and remember who Dana is. Mulder guides his drowsy partner into the bathroom and is glad that he used his last wish to release Jen. As the water sprays down on them, making Scully giggle lightly, Mulder realises that perfection is good sex and a hot shower with the love of his life. Nothing he could wish for could ever make it any better than this.
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