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Walking the Tightrope

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Apparently, having a life with a guy like Rob was not a realistic life goal. But, bailing out her errant partner was. Shouting him breakfast was. Chasing after beast-women in the New Jersey forest was. Going to the Smithsonian was. But clearly, riding him in the back of his car at the far corner of the museum car park was going to be the pinnacle of her life because it felt so, so…fucking good.
She slid up and down on him, every ridge sparking electrical impulses inside her skin. This was unlike anything she’d experienced before. He was so hard. She was so wet. This was primal. The very epitome of the case they’d just finished. Beast man and beast woman. Instinct. She let her head fall back, let him rub his thumb over her clit, let him nuzzle at her nipples, let him turn her from rational scientist to a series of guttural and breathy moans. Pleasure meant everything. Base need compelled her every move. Everything else was background noise. Until he moaned her name and reality set in.
“What the hell are we doing, Mulder?” she said, huffing the hair out of her eyes, while he kneaded her breasts under her open shirt. She’d lost track of where her bra went. She knew her panties were ripped and trapped around one thigh. Her trousers were hanging over the back of the passenger seat and his belt buckle was scratching at her lower back in a circular motion, no doubt leaving a mark.
“Eight million years out of Africa, Scully, and I’m pretty sure that rudimentary human behaviour is still much the same. Eat, drink, fuck.” He bucked up and groaned.
“You didn’t even buy me dinner.” She bent down and kissed him hard, sucking on the lower lip as he ground into her, lighting her clit on fire. “Fuck, Mulder. Fuck me, Mulder. Fuck me so hard, Mulder.”
He chuckled into her hair and upped his game. She held her breath and waited for the pressure to burst and when it did she cried out, digging her nails into his chest and scraping them downwards. He yelped and she opened her eyes to see his head fall back and his eyes roll in pain.
“Shit! I’m sorry.” She patted his bandage back down and he grimaced.
“S’okay,” he said, his voice rasping over his teeth. “Endorphins are solid pain relief, Scully.” He moved his hips and she rolled her own to the rhythm he set. His breathing ramped up and he gripped her hips, holding her in place as he let go. The guttural noise he made was about the most base and erotic thing she’d ever heardand she looked up at the ceiling of the car wondering why it had taken her this long to want to hear it. Her own breathing calmed and they stayed, joined in the silence, for a long while.
“Peptides activate the body’s opiate receptors causing an analgesic effect,” she said, twisting off him and feeling the cramps in her legs as she shifted her weight to find her clothes.
“I love it when you talk dirty, Dr Scully.”
She zipped herself up and looked at him, hair askew, stubble, shirt unbuttoned. He was an unkempt mess but he was so fucking hot. “Seriously, what are we doing?”
He got out of the back and stood outside, stretching. She could barely see him in the dim glow of the car park light but she knew he would be cricking his head from side to side, hands on hips, pushing his lips out. When he got back in, he turned to her and smiled. It wasn’t the dazzling, charmer. It wasn’t the guilty half-smile. It wasn’t the I-wanna-fuck-you or I-wanna-fuck-you-over smile. It was humble, grateful almost. Like he might actually be a normal human being. And that probably meant trouble.
“Scully, I…I’m not good at this stuff. I blow hot and cold. I never know when to open up and when to shut up. I’m kind of an all or nothing guy. I hope you know that by now. I don’t want to hurt you. I think you’re an amazing person, I want you by my side as my partner, that I know without doubt. As for anything else, I can’t make promises. My work is everything.”
His thigh was solid under her touch, his muscle flexing. “I appreciate your honesty, Mulder. I guess I’m just really surprised at my own behaviour. I’ve never been like this.”
“Like what?” he said, his voice thick and warm and inviting.
She chuffed. “I don’t know what the right word is. I guess I feel disconnected to the person I used to be.”
“To the person who dated Ethan? The person who thought she could have a life?”
Her head flopped back against the seat rest. “Who is that person? Was I ever that person? Do I want to be that person? It seems so unattainable, so…”
“Unlikely?” he offered.
Turning to face him, she felt tears pricking at her eyes. “Maybe.”
“What do you want, Scully? What do you really want?” He took her hand in his and massaged her fingers.
She sucked in the emotion, steadied herself. “I want to do good work. I want to expose the truth. I want that life now. Wherever it takes us. Whatever happens.”
He leant forward and kissed her. “Then we want the same thing.”