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Dana Scully’s Apartment

As I crossed my apartment’s threshold, I was already feeling better. The stress of being in the office, watching Mulder, wanting him and being forced to restrain myself, had been too much. I suspect that one day I won’t be capable of such restraint and, throwing caution to the wind, I’ll jump his bones right there in the middle of the basement office.

I know that he will be here soon. After all, my email had been clear, “My place. Don’t be late.” I’m so aroused just thinking about him coming home. I keep picturing his beautiful hands roaming my body, igniting a fire that doesn’t need more fuel. I can almost feel his lips on my skin; kissing, nipping, soothing. Oh God! I’m so far gone! 

I must do something to occupy myself before his arrival, so I decide to change clothes and put something more comfortable on. Once naked in front of my closet, I realise that jeans and tee shirt won’t do for what I have in mind when Mulder gets here. I turn to my lingerie drawer and get out a sheer lacy number I bought on a whim one weekend he was away on a case without me. I was so miserable that I hit the mall and spent money. I usually hate to go to the mall, that’s how desperate I was. Once he was back home, I totally forgot about my purchase and jumped his bones before he was able to say “honey, I’m home.”

Now, I’m putting on the fire engine red, sheer, lacy slip and I feel another rush of arousal. I breathe deeply to center myself and take out the matching thong. I perfume the pulse point on my neck and the inside of my wrist. A quick brush of my hair and I’m ready. I snort at the thought: I’ve been ready since I entered the office and saw him bent over a file, his fine ass nicely encased in grey Armani pants.

That’s when two strong arms encircle me from behind and I feel something hard nudging at my lower back.

“Nice outfit, Scully,” he whispers in a honeyed voice.

I don’t answer him, lost in his heady scent. At work, it was manageable as long as I stayed away from him in my corner, but right now I am drowning.  I recline against him and gasp when I realise that it’s skin I feel instead of clothes. I lower my hands, always needing tangible proof of anything, and come to the conclusion that he is totally naked.

I turn around and, this time, I’m the one out of breath. My naked lover is only wearing a smug and feral grin to greet me.

“You said don’t be late. I just thought that you were in a kind of hurry so…”

He must have been really quiet to dispose of his clothing without my hearing him but, on the other hand, I was too busy thinking about ravishing him to hear anything. I stop my musings when his mouth reaches mine and Mulder insert his tongue between my teeth. We kiss like that for a long time, his tongue caressing mine while I’m reduced to a pool of goo, moaning loudly as if I’ve been deprived of sex for years. Don’t get me wrong. I know how it feels, having spent six years yearning for a man who has eyes for mutants and aliens or, on occasion, for bimbos like Bambi Berenbaum or Detective White. But now it’s worse than when we weren’t lovers. I always need more of him. I want him at any time of the day, even in the car or in the office. I don’t seem to be able to quench my hunger for him and PMSing doesn’t help matters.

I feel myself falling onto the bed while we are still kissing and open my legs so I can feel him where I need him the most. He raises the silky fabric of my slip so his hands can roam my hot body. He’s leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He reaches my breast and without hesitating he caresses my erected nipples. I don’t think I’ve moaned that loudly in my life. This man is able to reach something inside of me that my other lovers couldn’t. He’s continuing with his ministrations, making me arch my back to increase the friction between his hard penis and my twitching clitoris. I manage to make him groan and I realise that he’s as far gone as I am.

Our lips part and I see his eyes burning with desire. He’s not a patient man, my Mulder. When he wants something, he wants it NOW. He divests me of my thong with deft fingers and enters me, thrusting to the hilt. God almighty, how I needed to be this fulfilled today! I open my legs wider to accommodate his larger frame and grab his shoulders to get more leverage. He starts to move incredibly slowly, teasing me without pity. He’s still smiling like he’s the one in control. I tighten my inner muscles around his cock to make him realise who’s calling the shots here, and his smug smile disappears all of a sudden. He’s finally becoming a lot more cooperative and I’m wearing the smug smile now. He surrenders to me and moves faster, in and out, leaving just the head inside before thrusting harder and deeper. I’ve been so close to exploding all day that I know it won’t be long before I reach ecstasy. He gives one last push and I come hard. For a long moment, I don’t know who I am anymore. I just know that I’m flying through the clouds.

I finally come back down to earth, wondering if Mulder has gotten his release. I’m left with no doubts when I realise that he’s crushing me against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

PMS is a bitch but there are undeniable pros when you are in a relationship, because you can have your cravings extinguished. In my case, a good, hard shag with the man I’m crazy in love with. Any other time of the month, I seek tenderness and romance. Not today. Yeah, take a note, Dana Scully, the Ice Queen, likes it hard and fast.

The End.