part 3/4

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A slight breeze stirs the single bare bulbs in their makeshift
fixtures above them and the floorboards beneath them creak and
whine with their movements and the settling of the rustic
structure.  She notes the moist warmth of the evening and idly
marks the fact that somehow her core body temperature is far warmer
than the ambient temperature. In fact, she is both warmer and wetter
than the typical warm and damp D.C. spring night. She doubts the
night sky is thrumming any harder than she is.

It is while her thoughts seem to be making the most profound
meteorological comparisons that she registers that she is no longer
making the most passionate sucking love to her partner's throat but
is rather sitting between his legs, her partially-tee shirt covered
back to his completely bare chest.

As if in answer to her question as to how she finds herself in his
lap, he whispers, "It's magic, Scully." Puffs of breath sending a
shiver through her, hardening her nipples to a tingling fullness
and ache. He wiggles his hips, moving a few inches backward taking
her with him, one arm around her waist, the other hand snaking up
under her tee to cup her skin-pebbled breast. He holds her
especially tight at the waist to help ease an ache of his own in
his quick-to-recover and more quickly stiffening cock.

Her hands move from his forearms, reaching up and behind her, her
fingers in his hair as she tries to turn, tries to connect them with
a kiss. Her actions also lift her breasts to him and he alternately
grazes her peaked nubs with his trailing fingers and  possessively
and greedily tweaks and pinches them.

He maneuvers his face to hers, feeling her lips on his, their heat
in the chilled air sparking. Relinquishing his hold on her, he
takes her chin in his fingers making a match between them as his
tongue parts her lips. In perfect unison, they moan, the vibrations
adding another layer to the already complex scenario.

She positions her leg over his as she inches back into him and he
is momentarily lost in the scent of their combined lust. She feels
the pounding in his chest and the solid throbbing against her lower
back and the way his arm curls around her and allows him to thrust into
her. As their mouths part, she licks her lips, panting, her head
falling back to his chest. But it is a very brief respite when she
feels his hand inching her already hiked skirt higher still until
it is almost as if she is not wearing it.

Looking over her shoulder to follow the path of his hand, he feels
her damp hair softly caressing his cheek. He gently rubs his face
into the wavy locks and then says her name, knowing she will think
he is about to once again launch into a discussion about fate or
magic or starry skies. But he knows it is only because he wants to
touch her.

So he finger paints on her inner thigh without the paint, spelling
out 'Mulder heart Scully'  It doesn't matter if she knows what he
intends, she is reacting more than favorably even without knowledge
of the words. Although he can't quite make out what she's saying at
first, the way she moves her leg to allow him better access tells
him all that he really needs to know.

She is tuned in to her pulse, to the fact that she seems to be
panting even though she is telling herself to breathe normally.
There's nothing really 'normal' about this situation although
engaging in steamy play with Mulder isn't rare in its occurrence.
It is however a rare treat when it takes place when they are
technically still on a case. Even if all they have left to
technically do is complete their final report. Usually the stickler
for finishing up administrivia, she summarily dismisses it just this
once in favor of the rather inquisitive feel of his fingers as they
tease mostly and tickle occasionally. He laps at her neck in the
spot that drives her insanely crazy with want as she feels the
elastic at the apex of her legs move. Move to let him in.

He is too horny at this point -- again -- to be slow and languid as
is sometimes the case with them. He considers that sometimes slow
and languid is a salve to hot and bothered and sometimes it is like
stoking the already raging fire. How sometimes she works him to a
fever pitch and only to torture him with excruciating slowness
And then there are other times where one of them enters the
situation already so turned on that even the presence of clothing
does not create a barrier and it is about everything and nothing
but frenzied coupling, the sensations running as high as their need.

Tonight he knows it is a little of both. While she seemed to
hesitate initially, she suddenly becomes all hands and mouth fucking
his mouth with her tongue while she dallied on the path of his
chest and then consumed his cock with unbridled hunger.

He loves her mouth on him, her head between his legs
watching her slide him in and out and attempt to suck the life from
him. He knows she loves giving head and is, in fact, damn good
at it. But he can't stand the thought of not being allowed to
'give', too. He is, by nature, sexual even though there is much more
to their relationship. But he faces the fact that along with her
many other fine qualities, he has almost always wanted to taste her
and drive inside her until neither of them can see straight. And
right now, he wants to feel her slick heat and touch her where he
knows he'll push her over the same edge he went over not so very
long ago.

Reaching back and up, she grips his shoulders but then quickly
changes her mind and grabs his forearms, loving the feel of the
muscles there, the power of him. When his hands move to her thighs,
re-situating her, she clutches at him for balance. But being
off-balance is sometimes part of being with Mulder and it is the
sheer anticipation of what he may do that thrills her.

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