First Day Back by shannono shannono@iname.com Rating: NC-17, oh yes Classification: MSR, humor of sorts, reunionfic of sorts, but mostly just your standard PWP Spoilers: General Season 8. If you've seen "Requiem," you'll be fine. For Token, because he asked for it. Sort of. Even if he might now regret it. ;) More notes at the end. ========== First Day Back by shannono The last place Mulder ever expected to find himself was slumped against the wall of a Hoover Building stairwell, pants and boxers around his ankles, with his partner's mouth wrapped around his cock. Strike that. The last place Mulder ever expected to find himself was slumped against the wall of a Hoover Building stairwell, pants and boxers around his ankles, with his *pregnant* partner's mouth wrapped around his cock. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned, the sound reverberating up and down the building, echoing back to him in waves. He let his head drop down against his chest and watched her hair sway as her head moved between his legs. Her hand disappeared from his view somewhere beneath her chin, caressing in random patterns as she worked her magic on his body. How had he lived for seven years without her? How had he lived for seven *hours*? He locked his knees, willing himself to stay on his feet. His first day back to the office, and he'd barely slept a wink the night before, alone in his dark cave of an apartment for the first time since his return. He couldn't begin to remember why he'd even *been* alone; all he knew was that between anxiety over going back to work and longing for the feel of her small, newly rounded body next to him in his bed, sleep had been a futile endeavor. He'd given up around five and headed on in, arriving bright and early at 6:30 a.m., intent on doing some catching up before she arrived. Instead, when he stepped off the elevator into the basement hallway, he was met by her severest pantsuit and fiercest gaze. Before he could say "good morning," much less ask why she was there so early, she'd marched up to him, grabbed him by the tie, and yanked him through the nearest door, which happened to be for the stairs. Five minutes later, he was completely at her mercy. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him again. She'd obviously planned ahead for this, shoving him against the wall and tossing a cushion at his feet for her own comfort before going for his belt buckle. He'd been shocked speechless, and it wasn't long until he was beyond words. She was *so* damn good at this. Her full lips cradled his penis like the finest glass as her tongue swirled over his skin as if she were sampling her favorite candy. Suction, friction, vibration from the soft moans in her throat, all blended into a symphony of sensation that curled his toes. He wanted to ask if she was okay; she couldn't be comfortable like this, nearly seven months pregnant and kneeling on the floor. But the mental image of her rounded belly, holding *his* child, sent a fresh shot of arousal through him, and all thought evaporated from his mind. He let his fingers weave into her soft hair, but with his last bit of strength, he fought the urge to pull her head down. This was her gift to give, and no matter how much he craved it, he wouldn't let himself take it away from her. Five months. Five months lost, and he'd opened his eyes to find his entire universe had shifted. His saving grace was that its center hadn't; she sat next to his hospital bed, smiling that God-I'm-glad-you're-okay smile, and he'd let himself give in, finally, to his recurring urge to kiss it. He'd love to kiss it again now, but that would mean she'd have to stop what she was doing, and she simply could *not* stop. Despite his best efforts, his hips were moving in short thrusts, desperate for more of what she was offering. She wasn't fazed, changing the angle of her head to accommodate him, intensifying the pressure almost to the point of pain. He felt her lower teeth graze that spot just under the head and he jerked like he'd touched a live wire. If he hadn't known her so well for so long, he'd be suspicious about where she could have learned such things, who she'd been practicing them on. But he knew she was a quick study, like him, finding all the perfect spots in just a handful of encounters and using them all to greatest advantage. He'd been beyond thrilled to find they were just as good at sex as they were at everything else. He felt a finger touch the skin behind his balls, pressing up and back with gentle pressure. Oh God, that was going to be it. He never lasted long once she went for the big guns, and they both knew it. He hoped like hell the building was as deserted as it normally was this early, after custodial rounds and before the start of normal business. Sure, he tended to show up in the wee hours, dodging mop buckets in the halls on his way to the basement, but rarely did he see any other agents around. He hoped this wasn't the one day everyone would decide to get an early start. If they did, they'd get an earful. He was way past even attempting to muffle his moans; it took all his concentration just to stay upright. He didn't relish the idea of falling on his bare ass on the floor, no matter how recently it had been mopped. The floor, not his ass. His last synapses had obviously short-circuited, and no wonder. She could give clinics on blow job methods. He'd happily serve as Exhibit A any time she wanted. Like now. She had both hands in action, one applying gentle pressure to his balls, two fingers of the other rubbing little circles on his perineum. She drew back until only the head of his cock remained in her mouth, then rose up slightly and slid down. *All* the way down. "Jesus!" That was the first coherent word he'd managed in at least ten minutes, driven forth by the feel of her throat muscles convulsing around him as she fought off her gag reflex. She'd *never* done this before, one of the few things she hadn't managed; as recently as a few days ago, she'd told him she couldn't do it. She'd obviously underestimated herself. Either that, or she'd been saving it up for this morning. She couldn't do it for long, though. A few short strokes and she pulled back, glancing up at him and shaking her head. One eyebrow lifted, and he mustered enough motor skill to slip a hand free of her hair and smooth a finger over that familiar arch. She smiled slowly, her hands still in place, and bent to pull just the head back into her mouth, sucking in earnest. His eyes snapped shut, and he thought his entire body was going to explode if he didn't come soon. So he did. Come, that is. Higher brain function ceased for some indeterminate period, but this was lost time he could live with. When his mind cleared enough for thought, he realized his throat felt like a small animal had been clawing at it, and the only thing keeping him on his feet was a pair of small, strong hands holding his hips against the wall. With some effort, he pried open his eyes and managed to focus on the woman still kneeling between his legs, her protruding belly just visible below the curve of her breasts. Her eyes, bright with arousal and amusement, shone up at him, and her swollen lips quirked into the tiniest of smiles before she spoke. "Welcome back." =====END===== Authors' notes: Hrm. This is what I get for diving into discussions of what constitutes smut, I suppose. General consensus seemed to be that an orgasm (consensual, of course) is the only basic requirement -- well, and some sort of *reason* for said orgasm. Anything beyond that is gravy, right? ;) Thanks (or something) to Token for starting the chat discussion which led to the stairwell smut challenge (and scared away luperkal in the process, the poor dear). See? I told you there didn't have to be penetration. Thanks also to Alanna for beta and cheerleading. :) One final note: This is my last story as shannono. No, I am not retiring from fanfic, but any future stories will be posted under a different name. I'll let you know what it'll be. Feedback is always adored, at shannono@iname.com.