Title:          Ecstatic
Author:         Lovesfox
E-mail:         lovesfox@rogers.com
Website:        www.geocities.com/fanficcorner
Rating:         NC-17
Category:       MSR, PWP
Spoilers:       None
Summary:        After a brief time apart, Mulder is anxious
                to see Scully.

Archive:        Yes to ATXC, Gossamer and Ephemeral.  Others 
                please ask.

Disclaimer:     Mulder and Scully do not belong to me, 
                they belong to Chris Carter and 1013 
                Productions.  I mean no harm, nor will 
                I profit.

Thanks:         As always, to Nancy.


***
Mulder's Apartment
Sunday, 7:15 AM


All morning long he has been on edge.

Up since five a.m., he has been waiting until the hour is 
decent enough to head over to Scully's place.  Her flight 
had been scheduled to come in at two in the morning, and 
when she had told him of her travel itinerary, she had 
insisted, over his vehement protestations, that he not be 
there to pick her up; that a taxi would suffice at that 
late an hour.  

He'd almost ignored her wishes, had actually gotten into 
his car to drive to the airport at one point.  But 
recalling how tired and jet-lagged she'd be, he'd decided 
it was better if he didn't -- after two weeks apart, the 
longest time since they'd been together as lovers, there 
was no way he wouldn't be trying to get Scully into bed.  
And not for sleep.

They'd talked on the phone daily those two weeks, sometimes 
two or three times on many of those days, and communicated 
via e-mail as well.  He had even convinced her to 
participate in phone sex with him three nights into her 
trip, to their mutual satisfaction.  

While wonderful, those moments had been small comforts 
only.

He is completely dressed, having showered and shaved -- 
smooth-shaven cheeks are a rarity on the weekends if they 
are not on a case -- after his five mile run, and is 
probably wearing grooves into the floor as he paces from 
the window to the door and back again.  Occasionally he 
picks up his basketball and dribbles it, and he twice 
attempts to read the morning paper, to no avail.

His apartment is spotless, and his laundry is sorted and 
ready for a trip to the laundromat.  He supposes he could
go do it, but is worried he might miss her call while he
is out.  Of course he'd have his cell phone with him, but
that's not the point. 

Forcing himself to sit down on the couch, he grabs the 
remote from the cushion beside him and turns the TV on.  
In a span of no more than two minutes, he flicks through 
every channel -- twice.

He settles on a replay of an old Knicks game, and manages 
to focus on it for most of one quarter before he is rising 
again, his fleeting interest lost.  

With the distant sounds of the game in his ears, he paws 
through his briefcase, locating the files he had brought 
home the night before.  Possible cases for the X-Files, he 
spreads them out on the coffee table and goes through them 
one by one.  None hold his attention longer than it takes 
to read the initial summary.

Checking his watch yet again, he sees that time still moves 
at a snail's pace, and tells himself he really should wait 
until at least nine o'clock.

Mulder's resolution lasts all of five minutes.

***

Scully's Apartment
Sunday, 8:10 AM


Having flirted with numerous traffic violations, he is 
finally here.

He knocks on her door -- two hard, sharp raps.  When she
doesn't immediately answer, he digs in his pocket for his
keys and quickly finds hers.  Seconds later he is inside, 
softly shutting the door behind him and re-locking it.

The apartment is quiet and still, and he notes that the
living room window blinds are drawn, a sure indicator that 
she has not yet risen or ventured far from her bedroom.

A faint sound from that sanctuary draws his attention, and 
he starts down the hallway.  Not wanting to startle her, 
he calls out softly, "Scully?"

"Mulder?  Is that you?"  The lilt in her voice is one of 
not-quite surprise, as if she has been expecting him to 
show up.  She knows him well.  

He is tempted to tease, to reply in the negative, but she 
is now in the doorway, her hands behind her back and a 
smile flirting at her lips.  Mulder shrugs, gives her a 
puppy-dog look and says, "I couldn't wait any longer."

She pauses for a beat, her eyebrow arched in that sexy 
way guaranteed to set his blood afire, and then sheepishly 
reveals the item in her hand.  

Her portable phone.  

Now smiling fully, she tells him, "I was just about to 
call you."  She puts the phone down on the nearby table.

They share a grin, and then Scully is darting forward to
hug him fiercely, high on her tiptoes and her arms tight
around his shoulders, fingers toying at his nape.  Her 
nose is buried in his neck, her lips tickling the sensitive 
skin.

Mulder returns the embrace, hands sweeping up her back,
sliding over the cotton of her button-down sweater.  
Encountering no tell-tale strap at mid-back, he realizes 
she is not wearing a bra.

His pulse is not the only thing that leaps.

She notices the obvious evidence of his pleasure, and 
chuffs into his neck before lifting her head to meet 
his gaze.  "Happy to see me, Mulder?" she intones in 
her arousing-as-hell phone-sex operator voice.

His hips thrust instinctively, even as he smiles at the
cheesy line.  "Ecstatic," he tells her, and glides one 
hand down to palm her ass.  Pressing her further into 
his hardness.  He brings his head down, lips grazing
her cheek before seeking and finding her ear.  "Let's go
make you ecstatic too," he croons, and then nips at her 
lobe with his teeth.

Her body jerks against him in response, her fingers 
flexing on his shoulders.  "I think that can be arranged,"
Scully replies, trying to sound nonchalant, though the 
husky timbre of her voice and the way she is pushing her 
belly into his erection belies the attempt.

These indications have him maneuvering them until he has 
her back against the nearest wall and he covers her body.  
His thigh pushes its way between hers and his mouth takes 
hers, fiercely.

She is a willing participant, until he begins to work
her sweatpants down.  Pulling free of his lips, she gasps,
"The bedroom."

Reluctantly Mulder releases her and retreats, smiling 
proudly when he sees her wobbly first steps, steps that 
match his own.  Her cheeks are flushed becomingly, her 
hair tousled and her eyes are dark with passion.  For want 
of a better description, she looks like she has already 
been well and thoroughly fucked.

Mulder thrills to the knowledge that it is he who is 
responsible for this look.

She takes his hand then and tugs him along.

***

Despite the urgency upon his arrival, it is Scully who has 
taken the lead.

Watching as she disrobes unselfconsciously and with an 
easy grace that further arouses him, Mulder finds himself 
unable to work on removing his own clothing.  He cannot 
take his eyes off of her.

Now gloriously nude, Scully smiles confidently at him and 
then crosses the room to deposit her clothes neatly on the 
chair in the corner near the window.  These blinds are open, 
and sunlight streams through the slats, dappling her fair 
skin in gold.  

She is even more amazingly beautiful thusly.

Re-crossing the room to stand before him, she takes his
hand, leading him to the bed where she softly tells him to
sit.  There is amusement in her voice, aimed at him, but
he does not mind.  Once he has docilely done her bidding, 
she surprises him by dropping to her knees with that same 
grace.  Her breasts sway gently, and he is fascinated by 
their movement, and by her crinkly nipples, hard in the 
cool air.

So much so that he does not hear her words the first time
she speaks.  It is not until she says, her humor evident,
"Mulder, I said I need you to lift your foot," that he
realizes she has unlaced his boots and is trying to remove
them.

"Oh," he replies dumbstruck, apparently having also lost 
the power of intelligent speech.  He lifts his left foot, 
and understands then that she had tapped his right one 
after she shakes her head and smiles again. 

His expression is sheepish, he is certain, as he lowers 
his left and lifts the correct foot.  She cups his heel 
in one hand, helping to support its weight, and after 
loosening the laces further, she pulls his boot off and 
places it to one side.  His sock is next, peeled down and 
off with a slowness he finds strangely erotic.  She tenderly 
rubs the marks on his instep made by his boot, her fingers 
grazing his arch in the process, causing his foot to twitch 
in her hold and his breath to chuff out in a half-laugh.

Once she has removed the other boot and lined it up with
its mate, and dealt with his sock, she rises easily.  
Crooking her finger at him in a silent command for him to 
stand up, Scully waits until he has done so before reaching 
for his belt.

The swoosh of the leather clearing the loops is loud in
the stillness and quiet of her room, and it sends a slight
shiver through him.  He shivers again when Scully tugs his
shirt free of his waistband, and she murmurs, "Easy there,"
as if she were settling a skittish colt.

He is more than willing to be tamed by her.

Her hands now glide caressingly up the soft cotton of 
Mulder's casual, button-down shirt, trailing over his pecs.  
They contract, his nipples hardening, and he sways towards
her.

She begins on the buttons, slowly working her way down.  As 
she reaches mid-point, she once again drops to her knees.  
Her lips are pursed in concentration, her gaze focused 
entirely on the task at hand.  This seriousness is an 
interesting contrast to her nudity, and an alluring one.

Enigmatic Dr. Scully, indeed.

As she reaches the last button, her knuckles graze the 
fly of his jeans, and the bulge contained within.  The
contact renews his attention in the form of an instinctive
thrusting of his hips, and draws a smile from her -- a 
satisfied and hungry baring of her teeth.

He wants to kiss that smile.  To nibble at and bite the 
fullness of her berry-red lips, to stroke his tongue along
her teeth, to suck at her tongue.  To let his mouth wander 
at will.

But to do so would pull her from her task.  Her very 
important, very arousing task.

So he ignores the urge, with Herculean strength, biding his 
time until he can let loose.

If he has a coherent thought left in his brain to do so, he 
thinks hazily...

For she has just run her hands over his lower abdomen, and 
her fingers are dipping into the waistband of his jeans, 
nails scratching ever-so-lightly at his skin.  

She uses her hold on the denim to rise to her feet once
again, and releases it to smooth her palms up his chest 
anew, this time underneath his shirt.  Her thumbs rub at 
his nipples on the way by and he sucks in air sharply.

In seconds the shirt is fluttering to the floor and her 
hands are busy at the top button of his jeans and then at
his zipper.  Easing the metal tab carefully downwards, 
mindful of the tender, erect flesh beneath the denim.

Once she has parted his fly, her fingers dance along his
cotton boxers, under his jeans, and it is her touch on
his hips -- sensitive and ticklish -- that jolts him into
action.

***

Lifting his arms, Mulder hurriedly nudges Scully's hands 
aside and then jams his thumbs into the waistbands of 
jeans and boxers together.  He shoves downward, forgetting 
in his haste to get as naked as Scully a vital step in the 
process of removing clothing while sporting an erection 
of epic proportions.

Palming himself, he smothers a curse, seeing out of his 
squinting eyes that Scully is smothering a laugh.  "Laugh
it up, lady," he tells her, trying to hold a wounded
expression.  "The party ends right here if Little Mulder
is out of action."

Eyes dancing with suppressed laughter, Scully manages to
choke out, "Little Mulder?  You...you call your penis 
Little Mulder?"  A giggle escapes.  

Her gaze takes in the evidence to the contrary with what 
he would term a predatory gleam.  "Not so little...Mulder."  
This time she lets out a snort of laughter.  Composing
herself with a deep breath, she adds, "Besides, I think...
*he's* fine.  More than fine, actually."

Even as he is preening from her clearly aroused gaze -- 
puffing out his chest and rocking his pelvis forward 
slightly, Mulder mock-pouts.  "No sympathy?"

Her lids lower halfway and her voice becomes breathy,
something that has always turned him on, even before 
they became lovers.  Long before.

"Would you like me to kiss him better?"

Faster than she probably thought possible, he divests
himself of his jeans and boxers -- without further risk
to Little Mulder -- and has them both on Scully's bed.
She on her back, and Mulder lying between her spread 
thighs.

His arms cage her head, fingers tangling in her hair.
They are almost nose-to-nose, and his eager erection 
presses insistently against her belly.

"I can think of something else," Mulder says huskily.  
"Something that will make us both very happy."  He 
punctuates his words with a lazy thrust of his hips.
Remembering his earlier comment out in her living
room, he adds, "Ecstatic even."

Scully sighs and undulates beneath him.  Licks her lips.

This action reminds Mulder of his earlier intention to
let his mouth wander at will.  Ducking his head down
those last inches, he captures her mouth in a wet, 
hungry kiss.

She had flung her arms outward when he had tossed her
on the bed, and now she lifts them up to wrap around 
him, her fingers kneading his back.  At the same time, 
she winds her right leg around his left, her foot 
sliding restlessly up and down his calf.

With their height difference, she has never been able 
to comfortably touch his ass while in their current 
position, a fact bemoaned by both.  But her hands 
sliding over his shoulders and tracing his spine are 
more than enough right now.

He needs air, and he wants to wrap his lips around her
hard, hot nipples that brand his chest like twin points 
of fire.  So he releases her mouth with a wet, sucking 
sound and gulps in a breath as he prepares for his 
quest.  The pulse beating wildly in her neck catches 
his attention and he instead plants his lips over it.  
He kisses there, follows up with a light nip, drawing 
a shivery gasp from Scully, and then moves downward.

The slope of her breast is another temptation he cannot 
resist, and he lingers briefly, brushing his nose back 
and forth over its satiny softness before finally 
reaching his intended target.  Teasing them both, he 
circles her left aureole with just the tip of his tongue, 
and then pulling back slightly, he purses his lips and 
blows a tiny stream of air.

Her exclamation of his name is tortured-sounding, as is 
the way her back arches in a mute and needy plea.

Perversely, he does not grant this wish.  Instead, he
switches to her right breast and repeats the process of 
circling and blowing, once again deliberately avoiding 
her nipple.

Scully growls his name this time, drawing out the two 
syllables, and Mulder smiles though she cannot see it.  
Her hands fist in his hair, and with considerable 
strength, she guides his mouth to where she wants him 
to be.

He resists, suddenly ridiculously playful regardless of 
his renewed urgency, regardless of the charge in the air, 
the electricity zinging through his veins.  He rubs his 
nose over her nipple in a modified Eskimo kiss, and 
laughs when she gives his hair a sharp tug in retaliation.  

Relenting -- somewhat -- Mulder uses the tip of his tongue 
to flick at one nipple.  Her sharp inhalation serves to 
thrust her breast upward, against his lips.  

She lets out a keening sound and then whispers, "Please," 
and he relents.  Drawing the hard nub into his mouth, he 
alternately sucks and teases it with flicks of his tongue.

As a result, her movements become more restless, arms and 
legs moving.

He is so involved in his playfulness, he doesn't recognize
her machinations for what they are -- a ploy to gain the
upper hand.  And the next thing he knows, he is flat on 
his back, and Scully is straddling his hips, his jutting 
cock nestling against her ass.  

Her cheeks and neck are flushed with victory and arousal, 
her hair a wild, sexy nimbus around her face, and she is 
grinning at him.

His own nimble nymph, she dips down and quickly swipes 
her tongue around his nipple.  Giving him a taste of his 
own medicine, he muses whimsically as he gasps in a shaky 
breath and clenches his hands on her hips.

"Can we get to ecstatic now?" she smirks playfully at him, 
the thumb of her right hand now stroking over that same 
nipple.  She is also rocking herself slightly on him, and 
he can feel the evidence of her excitement slicking his 
skin.  Mulder's own excitement skyrockets.

Tightening his hands on her hips, he mutters, "Lift," and
when she complies, shifting to take her weight on her 
knees, he says, "Hold on."  Once her hands settle on his 
shoulders, he sits up, his abdominal muscles straining and 
rippling.

On her knees, her breasts are level with his face, and he
pauses to worship them, sliding one hand from her hip to 
her lower back to push her closer.  He nuzzles each one in 
turn, nips at the underside of the left, and then trails 
his tongue up to suck her nipple into his mouth.  Bringing 
his teeth into play, he bites down ever-so-gently and tugs, 
which elicits a strangled moan from Scully.

"Mulder," she says then, stretching out the last syllable, 
her impatience and arousal equally clear.  "Now."  With 
that, she reaches one hand down between their bodies and 
encircles his cock, sliding her fingers to its base and 
squeezing firmly.

He loves an assertive, horny Scully.

"Yes," he agrees, torn between watching her face, her 
beautifully expressive eyes, and watching her hand on his 
cock.  The eyes win, after one last flicking glance 
downward.  "Yes," he repeats hoarsely.

She moves.  An infinitesimal adjustment, a seductive 
shift, and his flesh is slowly enveloped in tight, wet 
heat.

They sigh in unison when he is fully embedded, their 
gazes still locked.  Her fingers flex on his shoulders 
and her internal muscles clench around his cock, her 
thighs squeezing his hips.  Her heels are digging into 
his backside.  In turn, he applies a light pressure on 
her back, while his other hand slides from her hip to 
palm her ass.

Following his guiding, Scully begins to rock gently.  

Too gently, Mulder thinks, his heart galloping in his
chest and his pulse thundering in his ears.  He can
taste his desire.  It is raw and heady, urging him on.
With a squeeze of her ass, he encourages Scully to 
increase the pace, digging his heels into the mattress
to provide a counter-rocking.

This is still not enough, however, and he does not have
the leverage he wants.  Gripping her hips in both hands,
he stills her motions and utters hoarsely, "Wait."  He
sucks in air and continues, "I need...Get up on your 
knees, Scully."

His cock slips out of its haven as she complies, and he
hisses when the cooler air hits his sensitized, heated 
flesh.  Tightening his abdomen, he lays back.

Scully follows him down, his erection pleasantly trapped 
between their bodies, and kisses him deeply before rising 
and grasping the base of his cock once again.  Another 
seductive shift, and then she is riding him.

Leaning forward slightly, changing the angle, she plants 
her palms on his ribcage to support herself and increases 
her movements.  Seeing that familiar and well-loved look 
of concentration on her face, signaling her approaching 
orgasm, he assists by adding tiny, snapping thrusts of 
his hips. 

At that, her eyes flutter shut and she bites down on her 
lower lip, her breath hitching.

It is a struggle to keep his own eyes open so that he 
can watch the pleasure/pain on her face.  It is also a 
struggle not to flip her over so that he can pound into 
her and satisfy the primal need screaming through his 
brain, through his very being.

Mouth opening on a silent cry, Scully's head falls back,
the ends of her hair tickling his thighs.  Her movements 
become more frantic, near desperate, and Mulder realizes 
suddenly that he is chanting her name, urging her on.  
Urging them both on.  

For he isn't far behind.

Suddenly she jerks against him, her head snapping upright
as she lets out a mewling sound, and then she is holding 
herself still, every muscle in her body taut with the 
strain.  "Ohhhhh...God," she whimpers, and he watches
through heavy-lidded eyes as wonder transfuses her face.  
He can feel the contractions deep within her, drawing on 
his cock, milking it.  Sending him flying over that edge.

Free falling.

"Uhhhhh..." he groans, hips thrusting spasmodically.  His
eyes are screwed tightly shut now and his fingers dig into 
Scully's hips, anchoring her to him.  Holding her still
as he empties himself into her.

It feels like forever, but at last he slumps back into the 
mattress.  Scully follows him down, splaying over him 
bonelessly, and buries her face in his neck.  Her breathing 
is still erratic, hot and heavy on his skin, and he can 
feel her thundering heartbeat, which matches his own.

He sweeps one hand up and down her back in slow, soothing
strokes and she purrs contentedly, seemingly in no hurry 
to move.

And neither is he.

***

The End