feedback: Kits1013[at]aol.com
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
thought.
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.
Fin~~~~~~
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. <G>
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. ;)