**WARNING! NC-17 CONTENT AHEAD!** **DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE OR OFFENDED BY SEXUAL CONTENT** ***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter, and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it. Do not archive or link to this story without permission. ========== Cotton and Down by shannono shannono@iname.com Distribution: Ask first, please. MSR vignette. Rated NC-17 for sexual content. Spoilers through "all things." Takes place immediately following the final scene (and before the teaser). Summary: This night is cotton and down, comfort and warmth; tonight, they will be in no hurry. Notes at the end. ===== Cotton and Down by shannono His touch wakes her, the softness of his fingers against her cheek a sharp contrast to the firm leather of his sofa and the scratchy wool of the throw draped across her body. She opens her eyes slowly, meeting his sleepy gaze with hooded eyes. "Hey," he murmurs. "Come to bed?" His casual tone draws a half-smile from her. It's an innocent request, rooted in both his own exhaustion and a legitimate concern for her comfort after such a long weekend. Yet she knows that at its base rests a longing so long-standing, so deep, that she is unsure even he could find its foundation. They have ignored it long enough. She sits up carefully, allowing him to help push aside the blanket and taking the hand he offers to help her stand. She feels like a child being led by the hand down the short hallway to his bedroom, as if the route is too difficult for her to navigate alone. Maybe it is. He lets go as they reach the foot of his bed, soft rays of moonlight spilling across the tousled bedding, undercut with the blue-tinged glow from the lamp in the corner. Scully sheds her jacket without hesitation and lays it at the foot of the bed before turning to him. Her head tilts farther back than she's accustomed to when she meets his eyes, and she flexes her bare toes against the carpet in reaction. She holds his gaze, even now unable to say what she wants, relying instead on his ability to read her face. It's taken both seven years and all their lives for them to reach this point, and she knows he will not turn her away now. When his mouth spreads into a smile and he reaches for her, she steps into his arms. She has known he could be this gentle; she's seen it firsthand more times than she can count. This side of him is often overshadowed by his more impulsive, passionate nature, and she knows she will see that part of him soon. But this night is cotton and down, comfort and warmth; tonight, they will be in no hurry. He unwraps her like the gift she is, soft hands skimming over soft skin. They converse with murmured words and inarticulate sounds as they move together on his bed, and she explores his contours with hands, lips, and tongue, savoring him in every way she can find. Her senses sharpen to a fine point when his head finally dips between her legs, and she hears herself wonder aloud why the hell they've waited so long for this. She blushes, smiling as he chuckles, her embarrassment forgotten in the next moment as his tongue begins to move against her. He takes his time as she's taken hers, gradually working her into a frenzy, one hand bracing her hips against the mattress while the other thrusts three fingers into her. His lips wrap around her clit and he sucks hard, pressing his tongue against her, and she calls out to him and to God as she comes. He stays with her, gentle again, until she tangles her lethargic fingers in his hair and draws his body up hers. Smiling, he settles over her and kisses her with his mouth open, tongue teasing hers. Blindly, still meeting him kiss for kiss, she reaches for him, stroking his cock for only scant seconds before positioning him between her legs. He backs away from their kiss to watch her face as he pushes forward, and she knows he is reading each brief moment of pain in her expression. He is patient, stopping each time and holding still until she moves her hips beneath him to urge him on. Three times he pauses this way, and on the last she lifts her legs as high as she can along his sides, nudging at his arms until he hooks them behind her knees. She is open wide for his final thrust; he is in deeper than she can remember anyone being, but still she wants more of him. All of him. After everything, she will not settle for less. She licks her lips and swallows, her voice raspy and thin when she manages to say it: "More." She groans from deep in her chest when he pulls back, then gasps at his first deep thrust. "More," she grinds out again, and he sets up a slow, hard rhythm, long withdrawals and quick thrusts that have her twisting under him and moaning in a steady crescendo of sound. She will never come this way, but this is almost enough, to feel him over and inside her, to hear him alternately grunting with effort and groaning in pleasure. To know that this is Mulder; that they are they are finally ready for each other; and that it is as good as she has always wanted to believe it would be. Her climax is so close that it is almost painful. Desperate, she pulls one hand away from his back, feeling her fingers tremble as she works them between their bodies, probing until she finds the right spot. His eyes flash at her in the dim light as he realizes what she's doing, but she barely has time to register his reaction before he starts slamming into her hard enough to rattle the headboard against the wall. She is just forming a thought that she's glad his bed sits against an outside wall when he shifts his hips just enough, and with a low wail she is gone again. He is still thrusting, harder and faster each time, when she refocuses. She can see the wild glint in his eyes, hear the near- steady stream of sound coming from his mouth, her name mixed with nonsense and moans and the occasional curse. She's starting to hurt now, but more important to her is giving him that extra push he needs, wanting him to feel what she'd felt. She scratches her nails down his slick back, feeling him shudder under her fingers, but it isn't until she cups his ass in his hands and starts kneading his flesh that the wave breaks. Her name bursts from his mouth on a long moan as his back bows, and he gives a few more jerky strokes as his climax shakes them both. Her legs are cramping by the time he rouses himself and sits back, pulling out and settling her flat onto the mattress. He runs one hand up her torso from hip to neck, returning to the soft spot just below her navel and lowering his head there. He turns his face toward hers and grins; she grins back, and he reaches out his hand for hers, entwining their fingers on the damp sheets. Her other hand lifts instinctively to the back of his head, running through his hair, and he sighs, a deep sound of pure content. They should talk, she knows, and they will; but she will not disturb this night. They will be at peace here, on the same page at last, consequences be damned. Cradling him against her, she lets herself sleep. =====END===== Well. It's about time I wrote some "all things" smut. Hell, it's about time I wrote ANYTHING. I'm placing full credit for the fact that I wrote this with Marasmus, from whom I received not one, but TWO gifts of chocolates, et al, that very week. The timing cannot be coincidental. Thanks and bushels of apples to my betas: Alanna, who also handled the "drive" part of a lovely north Georgia drive taken the day before this was written; and cofax, who gave me partial credit for my so-called rock climbing. The three of us had a bit of disagreement over whether or not Mulder's bed actually sits against an outside wall. "Milagro" and "Biogenesis" seem to indicate it does, so I'm going with that. Considering the amount of loud sex we've all set in that bed, I would certainly HOPE it does. ;) I would adore feedback of any variety. I'm starving after such a long drought, and the apples aren't quite making up for it. I'm at shannono@iname.com.