Sweet Home Forever

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Rating: NC-17. Shoo, kids.
Summary: I want to hold her tightly; so tightly, that nothing can separate us again.

Title: Sweet Home Forever
Author: Shelba
E-mail: Kits1013@aol.com
Jul 17 2002 13:03:17 -0700

Category: IWTB Double Post Punishment fic. PWP, MSR
Spoilers: Post “The Truth.” Vague for other eps. Extra points for anyone who recognizes a comic reference.
Archive: IWTB, Ephemeral, Gossamer; ok if you’ve archived my stuff before, but I’d love for you to drop me a note to tell me where.
Rating: NC-17. Shoo, kids.
Feedback: Cherished, honored, replied to, given a home on my hard drive. Send to Kits1013@aol.com. Remember, kids, this smut fic is my first, so be gentle with me.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Borrowed. Hey, can I keep Mulder?
Thanks: Sallie for capable beta; Logan for hand-holding, Mulderisms and cheerleading; my hubby for inspiration and encouragement. Pbear for comments/general bitching and Char for the look-over and helping me polish. Any and all mistakes are mine. I can’t help it. I tinker.

Hope you all like it.

Summary: I want to hold her tightly; so tightly, that nothing can separate us again.

“Sweet Home, Forever”
by Shelba

“Scullleeeee, wakey, wakey.”

I open my eyes and see a sight that for months only graced my dreams. Right here, right in front of me, is my spiky-haired, stubble-faced, morning-coffee-breath, shadow-eyed Adonis.

His gray T-shirt is adorned with a smear where he wiped a catsup spill, his hastily purchased no-name jeans are ill fitting and his blue flannel shirt is about as far from his usual Armani as one can get.

He is beautiful.

My eyes sting and I blink to make sure he is really here with me; the reality of his presence registers on sleep-fogged neurons. I smile. This seems to dispel the vague unease hovering in his eyes. His lips curve up, and the hand that had been tapping my shoulder moves to cup my face.

God, I had missed his touch. I wrap my fingers around his, then press a kiss to his wrist.

Mulder is a fine looking man at any time, but when he smiles, his uneven features are transformed. He just — for lack of a better term — lights up, and at this moment he is incandescent.

Mulder had driven through the night, in spite of my asking him to wake me so I could take a turn behind the wheel. I don’t know what particular thing it was that was preying on his mind as he drove through the night, but from his glowing smile I’d have to say the little demon seems to have fled.

I’m glad. I’m not in a sharing mood right now.

We apparently are here — wherever here is — and we both look like something the cat dragged in. I vaguely recall stumbling into the room, and falling face down on the mattress. Behind Mulder, I see an ice-bucket has been pressed into service as a cooler, and the tops of two cokes peek over the rim.

I really don’t think we’ve been here long, but Mulder has had time to pull off my shoes, cover me up, and unload the car. His face is clean and his hair damp, so I deduce that he at least dumped some water over his head before he went foraging. For about two seconds I wonder if he remembered to get me regular –I haven’t drank caffeine-free since — But that was “before”–

Before. “Before” will have to be thought about, dealt with. Probably sooner than I want. But I owe it to myself to face it. I owe it to Mulder.

But I’m not going to dwell on that. Not when I have *now.* So, I just breathe and enjoy the feel of his solid body against mine, and his warm lips tracing my jaw-line. Then a swipe of his tongue on my earlobe dispels all other thoughts.

“What are you thinking?” His whisper prompts my eyes to open. Somehow or other, they had drifted shut in response to his petal soft kisses.

If someone had told me a couple of years ago, that I would ever be this close to Mulder, much less comfortable enough with him to zone out under his caresses, I would have sat back and watched him play Shrink with them. I try to suppress a grin, but he catches me, and his brow crinkles in this cute little way he has.

The utter absurdity of considering this long, lean, sensual man as “cute” hits me, and I can’t hold back the smile. His eyes light up as they catch mine, then roam away to study my face with the same intensity that he usually reserves for tabloids and centerfolds.

He looks thoughtful, but his breath quickens as I stroke his cheek. I can feel his penis stirring against my hip and aside from the obvious, I wonder what he has on his mind.


Scully may look like an angel when she sleeps, but God help the poor sucker — that would be me — who wakes her suddenly. I learned the hard way and I learned quickly. You’d better be bearing something with caffeine as a peace offering. And don’t *ever* say “good morning,” until she has replenished her caf- globulin levels. Lucky for me, she is also a Diet Coke addict and the drink machines here carry Coke and not That Other Crap.

Fortunately, she has awakened in a human mood, so I roll her into my arms and prop her on my chest. “You awake? Talk to me.”

“Talk?” Her eyes widen and she cocks a brow at me.

“Yeah. Talk.” My breath leaves my lungs in a whoof of air as she flops onto her folded arms and rests her little chin on the steeple of her hands. She regards me soberly, but doesn’t deign to answer, except to stifle a yawn.

“I hope I’m not boring you.” She smiles at me again. Wow. Two consecutive Scully smiles in as many minutes, and no caffeine, chocolate or shoe shopping was involved. I’m tempted to ask her what is prompting this beneficent mood, but I don’t really care as long as I can just cuddle her close.

“You want to talk.” She sounds rather suspicious. I can’t imagine why.

“Yeah. You know. Talk. Confabulate. Converse. Discourse. Discuss. Par-lay.” I waggle my brows at her and drawl a whisper into her ear, “Engage in Aaaaurrrrral Intercourse” Now she’s looking at me as if I’m growing a second head, and an especially dumb looking one at that, but then she laughs.

“Aural intercourse?” She licks her lips and cocks a lethal brow. “Are you sure you don’t mean some *oral* activity?”

My cock twitches like a hooked fish when she licks her lips. My head, that would be my original equipment one –not a hypothetical second one — or my little one eyed one — is as giddy as it was the night she decided we should reenact a “partnership retreat” tradition. Well, the part with a cheese and wine par-tay, anyhow. I love it when Scully wants to play. I would never, in my wildest dreams, have thought she could be as playful as she is sexy. What a nice surprise that was.

I’m pondering a playful Scully, when it registers that her warm lips are attached to my ear lobe, and her breasts are almost within kissing distance. I really hope I’m not dreaming, but as dreams go, this is pretty nice, so I decide to just lie here and see if anything else happens.

Hallelujah, something else is happening. She works her way down my throat with lips and teeth, and I lie here and hope I’m actually awake. After all, for months Dream Scully had awakened me much the same way. She has my shirt pulled up and my jeans unbuttoned, and I don’t remember her using her hands. Scully can do a-maz-ing things with her teeth.

When I don’t move, my impatient little vampire bites my collarbone, and says “Mulder. Strip. Now.”

Strip. Oh, get naked! I oblige, like a puppy who just graduated from obedience school. While I’m pulling my shirt off and throwing footwear, belt and jeans across the room, she quickly slips out of her clothes. I flop back onto the bed, hoping some other commands are forthcoming. Like: Lick, Mulder. Fondle. Stroke. Now, Mulder.

She seems to be oblivious to the collar and owner’s tag she has on me, and her lips trace a path down the tendons in my throat, and down the center of my chest. She licks and nuzzles the patch of fur there, like a momma cat washing her kittens and when she licks my nipple, I pant and purr to show my gratitude.

The sound must not have met my queen’s approval, and she bites down on the pebbly nub. This elicits a growl. “That hurt! You gonna kiss it and make it better?”

The bed jiggles with her restrained laughter and I haul my smirking sex kitten onto my chest. If she’s going to abuse me, I should at least get to have her breasts visible and pressed against my chest, and feel her damp fur against my cock.

Fair’s fair, after all.

She wiggles her pretty little curls against me and licks her lips again.

A moan escapes my throat and I roll her onto her back. I take a moment to catch my breath, and just look at her. I never tire of looking at my Scully. She’s an ivory wonder against the blue sheets. Her red hair is splayed against the sky-blue pillow and her lips shine from where her little pink tongue has licked them. Her teeth have worried them to a candy-apple looking red. I bet they taste better than any midway treat. Her eyes shine, as luminous and mysterious as the Hope diamond. The gold of our cross shines in the dimming light and her heartbeat pounds against my chest.

Does she know that she is my heart, my hope, my faith, my life? If she doesn’t, then I’m doing something wrong, and need to fix it. I seem to recall wanting to talk to her earlier, but can’t imagine what topic was so pressing. Any deep discussions will have to wait. After all, I’ve just had an epiphany, and need to share it.

Kissing and suckling her ear, I murmur, “Scully, did you know your ear-lobe is the same size and shape as your clit?”

“Mulder!” She laughs, but shivers under my touch, and one quivering finger reaches up, as though to test the theory.

“You’re blushing.” I’m delighted. The enigmatic Dr. Scully is blushing. I decide to see if I can elicit another flush of color. “Check it out,” I whisper into the aural orifice under discussion. “Don’t you think it feels the same as when you get yourself off?” I give it a quick lick. “Go ahead, Scully. Try it. It’s not as tasty, but it’s wet now.”

Sure enough, another wave of color rises from the vicinity of her toes and rushes northward. This is just too much fun.

I grin and act as though I’m going to roll away from her. “Why don’t you see if they really are the same? I’ll just lay over here and watch.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Mulder, but if you are entertaining the idea that you are going to watch me get myself off, I hate to break this to you. I have trouble masturbating to orgasm, even with a vibrator, so you are just going to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed? Moi?” Just hearing her say masturbate, orgasm, and vibrator in one sentence is enough to fuel even *my* fantasy life for a month. Where’s a tape recorder when you need one? “No, Scully, I won’t be disappointed, you just won’t get off.”

This elicits a laugh and a slap on my ass. My hips jerk in response and she smacks me again. My cock obediently nudges against her curls. This seems to have been the response she wanted, for she growls, and her nails dig in and rake up my back. My nipples tingle in sympathy with my shoulder blades, then she smoothes the marks with the flat of her palms, until her fingers curl into the hair at the nape of my neck. She bites my shoulder again and growls about finding a use for my broad leather belt.

I think about Scully spanking me with my belt, and wonder if the idea of her having such a power over me is appealing to her.

For a moment, I’m tempted to go and get it so we can find out, but I’ve never really been into painful sex. There are way too many things to do that feel *good*, so I never saw the point.

If this is some new kink brought about by the tender mercies of my Army guards, I’m gonna have to have a long talk with my body.

Suddenly I find myself thinking about the other, less substantial visitors I’ve had during recent times and hope this isn’t some kind of psychic connection to Krycek. Or, worse yet — Frohike.

I loved that little troll, but, as I told him once long ago, he gave perversion a bad name. I’m almost afraid to look around the room. I can see them now, all lined up with score cards and an
announcer saying, “That’s a 5.7 from the Russian judge! Let’s hope the Geek judges like his dismount!”

Gee. Skinner already calls me the Poster Boy for Paranoia. Now I get to wonder if someone is going to pop up, so to speak, when I’m *busy.* I shudder, not even wanting to follow that train of

I guess I was quiet for too long, because I’m brought back to reality by my very own mistress, the most rare and beauteous, wriggling, red-furred, tongue sucker, who obliges my earlier wish for instruction. “Mulder. Stop thinking. Start licking. And move that fine ass.”

Sure, Scully, I can do this.

“Your wish is my command.” She’s wearing a smug expression, until I grab her arms and pull them over her head, pinning her to the soft mattress with one hand. I reach down between her legs to test the waters, so to speak. She’s warm, wet, and hot as a Mediterranean storm and I slip a finger inside.

She gasps when my fingers curl up into her, then lightly pinch her clit. Her smug expression flees, and her mouth forms a round “O” of surprise. Lashes flutter against my jaw, and sweet breaths puff against my throat. I nuzzle her face, pressing kisses onto her translucent eyelids and across the bridge of her proud little nose. I suckle her ear lobe and murmur, “So tender, Scully. Just so perfect.”

Next to her tiny frame, I feel big and oafish. I want to hold her tightly, so tightly, that nothing can separate us again. I’m afraid that the months of separation will make me too urgent. “You have to tell me if I get too rough, Scully. I need you so much.” My breath trembles in my throat; my heart pounds and I release her arms. Seeing her surprise when I held her hands captive was exciting, but I don’t want that. I want her to touch me. I want to touch her.

For so long, we never touched.

Her freed hands leap to my shoulders, and then she catches my face between her trembling hands. “God, Mulder. I want you so much.” Her kiss is deep, and I groan my pleasure into her mouth.

Her eyes are wide and shining into mine, and I wonder, can she see what is in my heart? Can this much love be visible? I hope so, for I know that I don’t have the words to express it.

I slide my hand in a soft caress along the silky skin of her arm. I arch my back so I can reach her mouth. Our kiss is deep, so deep. She gently bites my tongue; I gasp, my eyes slam shut, and my whole body jerks with pleasure. Panting, I smile against her skin and trace the line of her throat with my lips and tongue.

Scully has a tender spot on her shoulder, just at the junction of her neck where she loves to be kissed and nibbled. Touching her there never fails to make her gasp in pleasure, so I slide my mouth down her throat. Her eyes darken in pleasure when I lick the pulse point, then, I quickly move to bite this “sweet spot.” Her wordless cry of joy makes my cock throb in time with the pounding of my heart.

After she catches her breath, she pats my hips and whispers, “Lift up.”

I brace my weight on my arms and she slides under me so my cock sits at her opening. Her curls are wet and I can feel her abdominal muscles trembling against mine. She holds my eyes with hers as I caress her thighs. When I part them and slide home, we groan in unison.

I’m nearly frantic with need, but I’m trying to be gentle. I know that it’s been a long time for her. For me, it seems like it’s been a lifetime since we touched. I could stay like this, stroking into Scully, feeling her hot breath against my skin, but ten nails bite into my shoulders as we rock together, and I know I’m not going to last long. Then, another request for me to raise up a bit is gasped into my ear.

I really don’t want to move away from her for even a moment, but I oblige, and she pulls her legs up so that her knees are literally folded under my arms. This changes the angle of penetration and with every rock of my hips a tiny gasp escapes her throat and her wild expression tells me that we have achieved G-Spot.

As if her expression and the tiny little moues of pleasure she is panting out aren’t enough, the position of her legs has created a narrower channel for me and every stroke squeezes me like my fist, if my fist were capable of a quivering, quaking orgasm.

The sweat that was beading up on my face is now a trickle running from my hairline to my chin. Her skin is glistening, and our bodies slide with the heat of our lovemaking.

Suddenly she stills for a moment, then pushes up with her legs and squeezes her eyes shut. The changed angle of her legs grips my cock almost to the point of pain and the sensation throbs along every nerve in my spine. I don’t know how she can breathe, I certainly can’t, but she gasps out my name, and cries out her love as her orgasm pulls her under. My hips jerk like a trout on a line as her quaking body pulls me after her.

I think I can die happy now.


Well, it’s official. I am living proof that a woman can walk without a functioning bone in her body. After I pried myself out of Mulder’s post-coital coma clutches, I managed to get to the bathroom and only had to use one piece of furniture as support.

Ok, so I walked along the wall, like a drunk in an alley, but Mulder was splayed out over the bed, smiling and talking in his sleep, so he doesn’t count as a witness. He was just lying there, murmuring something about Greeks. Greeks? Ok, whatever. And numbers. I am really afraid to ask why he was muttering, “six, six, six”

By the time I finish my shower, Mulder has stopped his mutterings and has migrated to *his* side of the bed. Aww, how cute. He spread one of his clean tee shirts over the “wet spot.”

I pull one of his shirts on, and after popping the top on one of the diet cokes, crawl onto the bed to sit next to him. I draw the blue cotton sheet over him. The cold sweetness of the soft drink rolls down my throat, and I relish the contrast between the cold can and Mulder’s warm body under my hand.

I finish my drink and place the can on the bedside table and turn out the light. A yellow streetlight gleams in the misty night. The beams of light polish Mulder’s uneven features and in this light, his chocolate hair looks black and his skin glows with life and promise.

Oddly enough, suddenly I’m reminded of an antique piano. When I met Mulder, he was as beautifully formed and as sharp as a baby grand. Over the years, time and trials, like the touch of reverent hands, have worn down his cold ebony and ivory, and now he is all pale gold and soft jet, and more beautiful than ever.

When I lean over to kiss him goodnight, his eyes flutter open, and he sighs deeply. I expect him to just drop back to sleep, but he rolls to his side and lifts the light cover, and I slide next to him and rest my face on his shoulder.

Underneath me, he is as solid as oak and as soft as a whisper. He pulls the comforter up around us and his breath warms the cocoon his body and blanket form around me. I feel as though I’m draped in velvet feathers. My eyes drift shut and all I want to do is burrow in for the duration, whatever that turns out to be.

He whispers, “It’s good to be home, Scully,” and pulls me back against his body. He smells of sex. Of us. I sigh with pleasure at the feel of his warm muscular legs and the moist springy hair
around his flaccid penis. He is a cornucopia of sensuality.

Even as my body begins to relax into sleep, my mind flits around, revisiting other times in other motels; times we were apart by choice, by circumstance. and the way we were forever shaped by them. Though our circumstances may change, my choices are clearer than ever.

I choose this man, these arms, this life. This home. Wherever we are, whatever tomorrow brings, we are together. His arms cradle me as we slip into sleep together. Yes, Mulder, it’s good to be home.


Fellow IWTB-er’s, thanks. I doubt that I would have actually written and POSTED a smut story. This was fun. Thanks for making me do it.

Ok, gentle readers, if you felt an ear lobe –yours, or someone else’s– raise your hand. If you checked out some other anatomical feature, when you’re done, raise both hands. 😉