Limmat
Title: Limmat
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Raiting: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 9
A/N: Many, many thanks to
memories_child for the great beta. Originally written for xf_pornbattle for the prompt all that you can't leave behind.
Summary: This is what his life has been like for the past 18 weeks...yet sleep rarely finds him.
~*~
He dreams in technicolor, swirls of emotion and action compiled into fragments of time. Tossing and turning in a WWII-style cot, he thinks of her. This is what his life has been like for the past 18 weeks; busily seeking what must be sought during the day, leaving both body and mind tired. He hopes his exhaustion leads to restful sleep, yet sleep rarely finds him. Instead, she runs over hill and valley in his mind, with he constantly in pursuit.
Different nights, different images, but it is always her. The images run the gambit from curiosity over her daily life to past cases and her analytical counterpoint to his hypotheses, sometimes causing him to smirk in dark. But then there are the nights when simple past pleasures fill his mind, leading him to sensual memories. He thinks of her parted lips, flushed cheeks as he unbuttoned her shirt, the feel of her pulse underneath his lips as he slowly kissed up the path of skin he uncovered.
On dark, unsettling nights like these he indulges himself in the primal urge to find release, especially when finding anything eludes him during the light of day. His fantasies vary; some nights he envisions a particular encounter - under the bleachers of the baseball park, their first time in his bed, the Santa Monica Pier after that god-awful movie premiere. Other nights he imagines simple sensations instead - the feel of her skin right below her breast, the taste of her sweet clit on the tip of his tongue...
But on this particular night, as he strokes himself base to tip, he imagines her sleeping naked underneath his comforter. Cool sheets sliding against her bare stomach, causing goosebumps and hardening nipples. As he watches her sleep he lightly runs his fingertips along her exposed chest. At first he simply outlines the planes and contours, but eager fingers get the better of him and he begins to trace the outline of her nipple. Once the right one has hardened to his satisfaction, he begins on the other. She murmurs and slowly stirs under his touch. She smiles and stills his finger, bringing his palm to her breast, encouraging him to squeeze. As he massages her over and over, he brings his mouth to her other breast, sucking. Her moans rise in his ear as his cock rises and twitches with want. He starts to grind against her as he continues his onslaught on her breasts. Suck and squeeze, lick and pinch, over and over, with his hard prick between them and her hands in his hair, moaning, moaning, moaning...
And he comes, her name leaving his lips into the open air of no-where, New Mexico. Sweat on his brow and his hands a mess, he comes back to himself, feeling ease and strife deep inside, intertwined in one painful knot.
Pairing: Mulder/Scully
Raiting: NC-17
Spoilers: Season 9
A/N: Many, many thanks to
memories_child for the great beta. Originally written for xf_pornbattle for the prompt all that you can't leave behind.
Summary: This is what his life has been like for the past 18 weeks...yet sleep rarely finds him.
~*~
He dreams in technicolor, swirls of emotion and action compiled into fragments of time. Tossing and turning in a WWII-style cot, he thinks of her. This is what his life has been like for the past 18 weeks; busily seeking what must be sought during the day, leaving both body and mind tired. He hopes his exhaustion leads to restful sleep, yet sleep rarely finds him. Instead, she runs over hill and valley in his mind, with he constantly in pursuit.
Different nights, different images, but it is always her. The images run the gambit from curiosity over her daily life to past cases and her analytical counterpoint to his hypotheses, sometimes causing him to smirk in dark. But then there are the nights when simple past pleasures fill his mind, leading him to sensual memories. He thinks of her parted lips, flushed cheeks as he unbuttoned her shirt, the feel of her pulse underneath his lips as he slowly kissed up the path of skin he uncovered.
On dark, unsettling nights like these he indulges himself in the primal urge to find release, especially when finding anything eludes him during the light of day. His fantasies vary; some nights he envisions a particular encounter - under the bleachers of the baseball park, their first time in his bed, the Santa Monica Pier after that god-awful movie premiere. Other nights he imagines simple sensations instead - the feel of her skin right below her breast, the taste of her sweet clit on the tip of his tongue...
But on this particular night, as he strokes himself base to tip, he imagines her sleeping naked underneath his comforter. Cool sheets sliding against her bare stomach, causing goosebumps and hardening nipples. As he watches her sleep he lightly runs his fingertips along her exposed chest. At first he simply outlines the planes and contours, but eager fingers get the better of him and he begins to trace the outline of her nipple. Once the right one has hardened to his satisfaction, he begins on the other. She murmurs and slowly stirs under his touch. She smiles and stills his finger, bringing his palm to her breast, encouraging him to squeeze. As he massages her over and over, he brings his mouth to her other breast, sucking. Her moans rise in his ear as his cock rises and twitches with want. He starts to grind against her as he continues his onslaught on her breasts. Suck and squeeze, lick and pinch, over and over, with his hard prick between them and her hands in his hair, moaning, moaning, moaning...
And he comes, her name leaving his lips into the open air of no-where, New Mexico. Sweat on his brow and his hands a mess, he comes back to himself, feeling ease and strife deep inside, intertwined in one painful knot.