Mulder’s sitting at his desk, in the same state he’d been in when she left. Which is to say, restless and frustrated. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the knot of his tie loosened, papers scattered carelessly in front of him.
As she closes the door, his voice curls around her, wakes her up better than the coffee she’s brought back ever could. She sets his cup down, meets his eye. The flush travels down her neck instantaneously.
The quality of the air in their office has changed along with the nature of their relationship, there’s no denying that. What had been a hotbed of uncertain attraction is now a space riddled with overt sexual charge, a pull as distracting and persistent as the compass needle pointing north.
Of course leaving for awhile hadn’t dispelled that charge, or made it easier to focus on work. It had been silly to even think that it might.
Ever since they’d stepped over the no-sex-at-the-office line and released some tension against the filing cabinets two days ago, it’s been impossible to avoid thinking about doing it again. She’s starting to worry that their workspace has been permanently corrupted.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he says, smirks up at her lazily.
Scully moves towards her area to deposit her own cup, feeling his gaze on her ass. The skirt she’d chosen today is shorter than her standard, blatantly inviting his attention, and she is as certain of her own hypocrisy as she’s ever been of anything in her life.
We should just do it, he’d told her earlier. Get it out of our systems for now. See if we can make some progress after.
Maybe he’d had a point.
Taking a deep breath, she sheds her blazer, tries to ignore the warmth gathering low in her abdomen. They’ve got work to do, the not-fun kind, budget reports and case reports and filing all of the various reports in all of the correct places.
“Hey, Scully,” Mulder says again.
“Hm?” She doesn’t glance over her shoulder, even though she wants to.
“Will you look at this?”
“Just come take a look at this,” he says.
She turns, finally, to see him indicating what looks like a budget report on his desk. Swallowing, she starts to walk closer, and he pushes back his chair to make room for her.
Before she even moves into place at his desk, Scully knows his intentions. There’s no denying that this will end up wasting their time, making them late for deadlines that have already been extended, but she can’t find the will to put her foot down.
Not when she wants it so badly.
She looks down at the paper, what seems to be a copy of receipts from their latest out-of-state trip, and hears him shifting behind her.
“What am I looking at here, Mulder?” she says, her throat feeling dry. “Nothing seems out of order.”
“Look closer.” His hand slides up her back, not pushing her forward so much as indicating that she should bend for him.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she suppresses a rather embarrassing noise, and does what he wants, supporting her weight on her forearms. And then, his hand is moving down, smoothing over her rear, grabbing at the bottom of her skirt and rucking it up over her hips.
“Mulder,” she says uselessly, starting to push herself up again.
She’s met only with his palm, firm on her lower back, folding her over the desk insistently. The gesture makes her gush, wetness soaking the gusset of her panties, which are currently placed inconveniently right in front of his face.
“Focus,” he tells her, a mocking imitation what she’d said to him earlier, before leaving for coffee in a futile attempt to get them back on track with their work. His fingertips tease over her garters, and then unclip them from her stockings, one by one. “I told you to look closer.”
A gasp escapes her as Mulder reaches for the hem of her panties, slowly tugging them down to her knees, leaving her completely bare as they fall to the floor around her ankles.
She tries again to straighten up, a last ditch attempt to halt this before they lose any chance of productivity. His hand finds her lower back once more, holding her in place, but this time, he doesn’t stop at that. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees him leaning down, and opens her mouth, intending to ask what he’s up to.
Before she can say a word, he’s pulled off both of her heels, leaving only the tips of her toes touching the floor. It doesn’t take her long to realize what this means – with most of her weight supported by the desk and him right behind her, it’s impossible to get much leverage at all.
She can’t help the whine that escapes her, the flush that she knows has spread down to her chest. Means of escape effectively eliminated, she’s trapped, cornered into letting him do whatever he wants. Which, of course, is exactly the outcome she’s been hoping for from the start.
God, she loves him.
He hums in appreciation, and there’s two hands now, palming the flesh of her ass. His fingers dig in, spreading her cheeks to expose her leaking, swollen slit.
“Fuck, Scully,” he groans.
His breath is hot on her skin, and she can’t help the whine that slips out as he leans closer, closer. Dropping her head to rest on the desk, she arches her back, giving up the last of her apprehension and revealing herself more fully to his gaze.
The chair creaks, and his tongue curls along her cunt, gathering up her wetness. She lets out a soft groan.
“Who’s distracted now?” He teases, lips brushing against her.
“Mulder,” she gasps.
“Hm?” He’s lapping at her again, too lightly to give her any real satisfaction. “You don’t want this?”
She tries to push up higher on her toes, get some of her leverage back, but her legs aren’t long enough. She tries to push back against his mouth, but his big hands keep her firmly in place, pinned between him and the desk. It’s hopeless.
“Please,” Scully says finally.
Flattening her chest against the dark wood, she tilts her hips up in an attempt to give him even more access, hoping he’ll recognize the gesture of submission and run with it.
“That’s my girl,” he tells her smugly, sure enough, and presses a kiss to her folds. She whimpers, and his thumbs spread her open, slipping through her wetness. “Mmm, so good for me.”
His tongue swirls around her clit, and she bites back a sob, rocking into the sensation helplessly as he hums his approval. And, God, she forgets every time how good he is at this. How thoroughly he works her over, tracing nonsensical patterns into her aching flesh, hands squeezing and fondling her ass almost rhythmically, as if sending signals by Morse code.
The indulgence of it all is what really gets to her, the dirty, illicit hedonism. The low groans he lets out against her, as if he’s enjoying it even more than she is.
It’s shocking how quickly she’s teetering at the edge, and she would be embarrassed if there was room left for feelings other than pleasure. When Mulder inevitably leaves her hanging, it’s almost expected, but that doesn’t stop her from protesting with an indignant grunt.
“What’s the matter, Scully?” He says, voice pitched low like a taunt as he stands. She hears the snick of his fly unzipping, and his hand lands on her lower back, pinning her in place before she can even think of moving. “Do you have an issue with how we’re working together?”
She shakes her head desperately, tries to formulate words. But then, his cock is nestled against her, sliding up her slit, nudging at her entrance, and she gives up any attempt at coherency, instead arching as much as she can in invitation.
“Hm, Scully?” He asks, clearly wanting an answer. “Do you have a problem with my strategy?”
The head of his cock taps against her clit, and she tries to push back against him, but he kicks her legs apart with a foot, leaving her entirely supported by the wood underneath her.
“N-no,” she manages to gasp, squeezing her eyes shut. “No, Mulder, please just –”
She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. In a single, heavy thrust, he’s filling her, so deeply that her lungs ache. For a long moment, he stays still, buried to the hilt, and she lets out a moan, reaches forward to grab the opposite edge of his desk.
And then, he starts to move.
There’s nothing quite like it, the way Mulder fucks her when he’s frustrated. His low groans and panting into the heated air, his almost punishing pace, his palm colliding with the side of her ass if she tries to rock back against him. His fist in her hair, never pulling hard enough to hurt, but tugging just enough to send sparks of discomfort down her spine. The weight of him folded atop her, his mouth hovering beside her ear, murmuring things so dirty that she doesn’t dare to recall them after the fact, not even in the relative privacy of her thoughts.
The surge of her climax is so mind-numbing, so seemingly endless, that Scully can’t pinpoint when it starts. She loses track of everything but sensation as he works her through it, not regaining her faculties until after he’s already spilled inside her and shuddered to a stop.
“Hey, Scully,” he’s saying, for a third time, his voice far more affectionate than it had been before.
She hums, blinking lazily as the tingling warmth spreads through her. He brushes her hair away from her sweaty forehead, grins down at her. Slowly, she becomes aware of his spare hand resecuring her garters, rubbing softly over the handprint he’d no doubt left on her rear.
“Hi,” she says, and returns his smile, propping herself up on her forearms again with effort.
“See?” He bends to kiss her temple, tugging her back skirt down over her ass clumsily. “No more frustration. It’s out of our systems.”
Scully shoves herself off the desk, landing on her feet again and standing up the rest of the way, all too aware of the limited time frame she has to get to the bathroom before something unseemly drips on their carpet. His arm hooks around her before she can wiggle away, and he leans in, kissing her full on the mouth this time.
“Something tells me it’s not going to last,” she confesses after he releases her, more than a little breathless. “We’re going to need a more permanent solution.”
“Maybe we’ll just have to give this one another try, change a couple things up,” he shrugs. “Isn’t that part of the scientific method? Trial and error?”
“Don’t push your luck, Mulder.”