feedback:
tlynnfic [at] gmail.com
Author: TLynn
Email: fallingsky@comcast.net
Feedback: Always welcome, always appreciated
Distribution: Also welcomed -- just let me know so I can visit
Rating: R for sexual situations
Category: MSR, angst
Spoilers: 'Per Manum'
Summary: "She needed him, needed his strength, now more
than ever as he was the only one who could give her back
her own."
Disclaimer: They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, Fox, and the
disgustingly talented actors who portray them, not me.
Thanks: To my new beta, Carol, for her sharp eye and
incredible support. Thank you, my friend.
Author's notes: This is the first of what is to be a series of vignettes
that explore the complicated progress of a physical relationship
between Mulder and Scully. The goal is this: though each will have
a little something to do with the previous, they will be near-
standalones and can be read independently of each other if you so
choose. So is this a WIP? That's your call; I'm making no promises.
<g> But I'm hoping that posting in such a fashion will help motivate
me to get each part written in a timely manner as I'm the slowest
writer on the planet.
More notes upon final completion.
* * *
She held him tight, drawing on not only the physical strength he
offered, but the emotional as well. Her sorrow, contained on the
way from the doctor's office, threatened to consume her now as
she released it, shared it with the only person she could. Or
would. Even in his arms her sense of loss was overwhelming, her
mind no longer numb to the finality of it all.
Part of her wanted to be angry with him. She'd begun to reconcile
herself to her fate after that initial visit to the doctor, but with his
admission, with that tangible, intensely personal part of her he
had been keeping secret in a freezer, he'd given her a hope she
held onto with both hands in spite of herself. It wasn't his fault,
of course. None of it was. But now, in the thick of it, part of her
wished he had never confessed. She wondered what kind of
person she'd become when the absence of hope was an outcome
she'd willingly choose.
He pulled back and moved to rest his lips gently on her forehead,
his care and concern transferred easily through his kiss. He
touched his head to hers then, his arms holding her close,
holding her up.
"Never give up on a miracle," he said.
She couldn't help the slight shake of her head at his words. Ever
the optimist, he held on to a scrap of hope no one else saw, even
now, and she wished she could believe as easily.
She reached up and cupped her hand around the back of his neck,
pulling him closer as she turned her head in. Her mouth moved
towards his lips, seeking his warmth, but even in the fog of grief
she caught herself and brushed against his cheek instead,
allowing her body to rest against him again in an embrace.
She felt empty. She'd always been a fighter, even in childhood,
unable and unwilling to stand by and let the wicked prevail. Even
with all They'd taken from her, from both of them, she held onto
that innate resolve and refused to go down without a fight. But
now any anger, misdirected or otherwise, was quickly dissolving.
Any motivation to continue the search for those responsible was
fading, only to be replaced by a gaping hole within. She resented it
even as she was powerless to it. She felt tears cascade silently
down her cheeks from beneath closed lids.
As if sensing her despair, Mulder's hands began stroking up and
down her back, bringing her back to focus. She opened her eyes
and pulled back to look up at him, to let her gaze fall upon his
sad eyes.
"We won't give up," he said softly.
She leaned in again, bringing her lips to his, finally finding that
warmth she needed. She knew in that instant he was the only
one who could ever make her feel whole again. She needed him,
needed his strength, now more than ever, as he was the only
one who could give her back her own. He'd gone rigid with the
kiss, his hands still against her, and pulled away as she tried to
deepen it.
"Scully, I don't think--"
She caught his mouth again, forcing it open with a graze of her
tongue along his full bottom lip. Her hands slid up to cradle his
head, pulling him in further, and she felt his resolve melt as his
arms tightened around her.
He pulled back again, gulping for oxygen, and the storm, desire
warring with chivalry, was evident in his eyes. This was a line
they'd danced on for some time, but never dared to cross and
she could feel the waves of uncertainty emanate from his entire
body. His hand shook slightly as he brought it to her face, his
fingers resting gently against the hollow of her cheek. She
responded by moving her hand down between them, palming the
denim over the bulge of his cock.
"Scully..." he breathed, a warning and a plea.
"I need this, Mulder," she whispered, a plea of her own, as she
squeezed him lightly.
Ignoring all rational thought, he succumbed to her, inside and
out, and crushed against her with a bruising kiss. She responded
in kind, grinding her hips against him, whimpering into his mouth
as his right hand took her left breast in a rough grasp.
They fumbled around each other to the couch, clumsily shedding
clothes until she lay naked beneath him, chest heaving and lips
swollen, his nude form hovering tensely above. He let one hand
stray down her body, kneading the swell of her hip, easing her
leg up and around him, opening her to him. She did as he silently
bid, hissing as his fingers nestled at her center and began quick
work of heightening her arousal. Her orgasm shot through her
silently and unexpectedly, her hips thrust up hard against his
hand as his fingers pressed against her.
Her body felt limp even as she encouraged his, breathless in
her request.
"Now..."
He complied immediately, taking himself in his hand and pressing
against her opening. She hissed again, her eyes closing and
brow knitting in pain, and he slowly pushed further.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his breathing labored.
She shook her head and relaxed her legs. Her hands slid up his
arms and came to rest against his shoulders.
"Just go slow," she said, opening her eyes again.
He nodded and continued slowly. Her body tensed as she adjusted
to the intrusion. She rocked beneath him when she was ready,
her body yielding to him with growing ease. He felt his control
slipping as his thrusts became fast and hard too soon and just as
he attempted to temper his movements again, she pulled her
knees up around him, tilting her pelvis to change the angle of
penetration.
"Harder," she panted, her hands grabbing and pulling at him,
urging him on.
His release came after several rough strokes and he collapsed
heavily atop her, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest.
The shift of her body ended his moment of recovery and he
lifted himself again, sliding out of her as he moved to sit up. He
reached out to her as she gingerly sat up as well, her
movements slow as she shifted her legs. She allowed his
careful embrace but didn't return it, instead leaning heavily
against him as she caught her breath.
"You okay?" he ventured.
"Sleep," she answered.
"Maybe we should--"
"I'm so tired," she said, her eyes closed. "I just need to sleep."
She stood then and gathered their discarded clothing, piling it in
her arms before making her way to her bedroom. He remained
on the couch, watching.
"You coming?" she asked, stopping but not turning, as she
reached her bedroom door.
He stood and followed her in, outside his comfort zone as she
discarded the clothes into a chair and pulled back the covers on
her bed. She climbed underneath, scooting over to make room for
him. He slid in next to her carefully, pulling the blankets up and
over them both. Silence filled the room as they lay side by side
without touching.
A hitch in her breathing caused his head to turn and he saw her
hands covering her face, her body shaking with each quiet sob.
He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, willing
her pain away. Several minutes passed before he heard her even
breaths and realized she was asleep. Feeling helpless to do
anything else, he followed her into a dreamless slumber.
* * *
He woke the next morning to find himself alone in the bed, bright
sunlight streaming through the open blinds covering the window.
His body protested as he moved to rise, standing at full height to
stretch and then bending over to search for some cover among
the pile of their combined clothing. Pulling on his boxers and white
t-shirt, he went in search of her.
She was in the kitchen, showered and dressed, her face blank as
she stood at the counter, her eyes fixed on the cup of tea she
cradled in her hands.
"Morning," he said, stopping to lean against the refrigerator.
She startled slightly at his voice, but her face relaxed into a small
smile as she turned to look at him. Her gaze quickly dropped to the
cup she still held in her hands.
"Tea?" she asked.
"Sure, I'll get it," he answered, moving to the pot on the stove
and the empty mug next to it. She kept her eyes down, even as
he moved to stand next to her, leaning against the counter in a
mirrored stance. He sipped his drink carefully, enjoying the feel
of the hot liquid washing down his dry throat, doing his best to
ignore the awkward tension in the room. When he caught her
glance up at him, he took the opportunity to lean down and place
a kiss on her cheek. She tensed immediately.
"Scully, what's wrong?"
When she looked up again, her eyes brimmed with unshed
tears and he felt his stomach turn to knots with the rueful
expression on her face.
"I'm sorry," she simply said.
"For what?" he asked with a small smile. "For what happened?
You don't need to be."
He relaxed a bit, reaching out to trace a line down her arm with
his finger, and she shivered.
"I'm...I just don't think I'm ready for this," she said, her voice
low, her hand gesturing between them.
"What?"
"I shouldn't have done what I did," she continued. "It wasn't fair
to you and I apologize. I can only hope that you can forgive me.
But I'm not ready for this, Mulder. As much as I wanted it, I'm
not ready for the reality of you and me and I need some time.
Especially with everything that's gone on. I just need time."
He stared at her for a long moment, struggling to process what
she was saying, emotions conflicting. He wanted to hold her, he
wanted to shake her, he wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to
scream at her. But he did none of those things.
"Do you regret it?" he finally asked.
"No," she said immediately. "I just...I'm overwhelmed. I need--"
"Time," he finished for her.
He gently set his tea down and moved from her, walking away and
back into her bedroom. He stopped in and quickly used the
restroom before pulling on his jeans, socks, and shoes. He
recovered his black long sleeved shirt last from the bottom of the
pile, and returned to the living room again.
She hadn't moved so he crossed back over to where he'd left her
in the kitchen and stood before her. She struggled to look up at
him, and when she did, it pained him to see the look of guilt in
her eyes.
"Are you going to be okay?"
She nodded, resolute.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
He shook his head and leaned in, feathering a careful kiss
against her lips.
"Whenever you're ready," he said. "I'll be here."
She nodded again, fresh tears welling, and he allowed himself
one more press of his lips against hers before turning to leave.
She watched through blurred vision as he opened the front door,
grabbing his leather jacket from a nearby hook, and went
through it without another look her way.
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