RPF - Don't Like It, Don't Read It, We're All Good!
Title: Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: David Duchovny/Gillian Anderson
Summary: Let’s have some IWTB sexy tiems.
Author's Note: This fic was written for the xf_pornbattle.
x x x x
It's unbearably cold out in the middle of nowhere, Vancouver, in the dead of night, snow on the ground. For the first time since they started filming it's snowing like a bitch, sticking to her hair, the wind freezing her cheeks.
She hasn't missed this at all, these Carteresque "Spooky is the middle of the night in shitty weather conditions" shoots in which every glance and gesture is scrutinized and shot over. And over. And over.
She sees the irritation growing in David too. He chews on his cheek and glares off at the treeline.
"Just like old times," she says. Her Scully accent still surprises her. She's not used to it.
"I'm freezing my balls off," he says, his eyes unmoving. "I'd better get some worker's comp for it."
"Alert the union," she murmurs with a small smile. He glances at her with a laugh, then keeps looking at her. She feels a tingle down her spine.
_____________________
He's rented a gorgeous house and she follows him there at 1 a.m., her cheeks still frozen, burning from cold.
He fucks her in the shower, water as hot as it can go, steam wrapping around their bodies. Her back sticks to the tile wall. His cock slams into her so hard it hurts, just a little.
"There they are," she pants, her fingernails rutting into his shoulders.
"What," he breathes, his forehead pressed against the wall.
She shivers. "I can feel my cheeks again."
_____________________
What makes them great fuck buddies, but that's about it, is that they are both in possession of insatiable sex drives, especially when they're together.
They could never be together together, she thinks as he's finger-fucking her hard on the bedroom floor. They're dripping wet, her towel under them. They'd tried to make it to the bed and failed.
The man knows dirty, nasty things when it comes to how she likes to be fucked. It's why she craves him, three thick fingers stretching her out, buried inside of her, his mouth and his tongue all over her clit like he hasn't eaten pussy in a year and he needs it to survive.
And he knows when she's close, and he knows to slip a slick finger into her ass and suck on her clit and hold on as she bucks up. It hits her hard and fast and she hears the echo of her cry in the cavernous room.
Dirty, nasty things.
_____________________
She loves sucking his cock. She's not a big cock sucker, usually, but makes an exception not only because his cock is amazing, but because he is highly appreciative of her cock-sucking skills.
She likes how he squirms under her tongue, the way he groans and lets out a small laugh when she sucks him in as far as she can. She likes to hold on to his thighs and meet his eyes over his chest while she sucks the head harder, flicking her tongue over it.
She palms his balls and he jumps with a groan. She massages them and grins. "They're still here," she says with a giggle.
_____________________
They've fucked a lot of different ways but she usually ends up on top due to what everyone's always called their "unfortunate height differential." The cameramen hate it. She doesn't mind. She likes to possess him, to own him. She's addicted to how he talks when she's riding him, when she's fucking him hard. "Fuck yeah," he'll groan, or "Oh, Christ," with the occassional "Jesus, Gillian" thrown in that makes her body twinge.
"Yeah?" she responds. She drags her fingernails down his chest, her hips working his cock, rolling and riding.
He slides his fingers between them and strokes her clit hard, sending sparks all over her body. He wants her to come first. He always does. He is, in fact, quite the gentleman in bed, despite his absolute addiction to fucking.
She comes with his hands on her ass, her head tossed back, her long hair tickling her middle back. She spasms around him and he bucks up, nearly knocking her off balance, gripping her ass as he lets go right after her, his moan blissful like he's been waiting far, far too long to do that.
She falls to his chest and he wraps his arms around her. She nuzzles his neck.
"You think Mulder and Scully ever fuck like this?" she asks, catching her breath.
"I sure as fuck hope so," he says. "Those two could use it."
Title: He Falls
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: David Duchovny/Tea Leoni
Summary: He falls in love again.
Author's Note: This fic was written for the xf_pornbattle.
x x x x
He falls in love with her again when she steps out of her car at the Knicks game, all legs and long, stick-straight blond hair cascading over her shoulders. And again when she helps the kids out of the car, holding both of their hands and walking toward him, each of them a perfect amalgamation of the two of them. And again when she smiles at him, outwardly happy, but with blue eyes that can't ever hide her sadness, not even now.
He still falls in love with her at least six times per day, that being an average. Sometimes more, sometimes less.
"Sorry we're late," she says with a hug, her lips grazing his cheek. The kids wrap their arms around him and they're in a hug, all of them, for a comforting few seconds. He closes his eyes.
"I'm just glad you came," he says, touching her hair.
-
They sit through the game and look happy, act happy, seem intrigued. They know photos are being continuously snapped that will pop up within hours online, that will hit US magazine in a week. He's happy to be there, sidelined with his family. Happy to hear her yell at the ref, to feel her excitement.
He falls in love with her again.
-
They leave the game and wait for the valet outside.
"Where are you headed?" she whispers in his ear, wrapped up in another hug, this one longer, closer than the first.
He answers honestly. "I'm not sure." He's resolved to be honest with her now.
Her breath is on his neck, her fingernails grazing his scalp. He nearly shivers. "Come over," she says, stepping away and staring into his eyes. She bites her lower lip.
He follows her home.
-
Their clothes fall off the moment they enter the bedroom. His hands are mapping her body again, finding familiarity beneath his fingertips.
They leave a trail to the bed, a trail he'll follow on his way out the door later.
She lies back on the pillows, long, strong legs and lean torso, trim and gorgeous, and he wants to devour her slowly, hungrily, to make her moan and clutch at him. To make her need him again.
He kisses and licks her from head to toe. He buries his face in her pussy and she's all over his cheeks and his tongue, so sweet. He moans with her, responds to her. The way she cries his name sets him on fire. She comes with her thighs pressed against his head, hands tangled in his hair.
He falls in love again.
She yanks on his head and he settles between her thighs, kissing her face, her collarbone, her neck and ears. Her fingers trail over his back and ass and she's smiling with her mouth and her eyes.
She slips her hand between them and guides him inside of her. He keeps his eyes open, watching her face, watching her tilt her chin up as she sighs. He buries his face in her neck.
"It's so perfect." He shares this secret with her soft skin.
"I know," she whispers.
She rises to him, her back arching, her legs sliding along his. He runs his hand over her thigh, up her side, and fucks her harder, faster. She's writhing and begging him not to stop. She asks for more. He's given her everything he has but he wants to give her more. He has to.
"I love you," she whispers, tightening around him, pulling him into the deep.
He falls in love with her again.
Title: Giving In Again
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: David Duchovny/Tea Leoni
Summary: The mystery of it all is that he’s her addiction, but she’s not his.
Author's Note: This fic was written for the xf_pornbattle.
x x x x
"I hate you," she says with less conviction than she intends.
"No, you don't," he says, looking at her with those hazel eyes that can see through her, straight to her core, straight to the part of her that wants to hate him but can't.
She tries, over and over, every time this happens, every time he's caught in the act, to convince herself she hates him. She ends up hating herself for being so forgiving, so hopeful that maybe things will change, that maybe he'll stop. That this time would finally get it all out of his system.
His lips brush her neck and she grits her teeth, breathing heavily. They move to her mouth and she pushes against his chest.
"Fuck you, David," she says, anger hot in her chest, her skin tingling where his lips touched it.
He looks hurt, but cautiously determined. "Listen. I know I fucked up--"
"Again." She bites the inside of her cheek. She sounds so bitter and she hates it.
His jaw clenches. "Again."
"So, how many times has it been now?" She feels tears brimming in her eyes.
"Tea, don't--"
"Can you even count that high?" He looks like she just punched him in the face. Now he knows how she feels.
They're inches apart. She wipes tears away with the back of her hand, standing her ground. He's studying her. She can see him contemplating his next move in this endless game of denial and blame.
He kisses her hard, suddenly, pushing her body up against the wall behind her before she has a chance to protest. His hands circle her wrists and she fights halfheartedly, his tongue sliding against hers, invading her mouth.
She makes a muffled sound--a moan, a protest? she's not sure--as her body surges with need, demanding its wants, defying her judgment.
He smells like he did the first night they met, an intoxicating mix of cologne and him, and it addicts her again, just his scent.
He tears at her clothes as if she's about to change her mind, like at any moment she's going to smack him or bite him or scream.
She kisses him back, moans as his fingers grasp at her hardened nipples. His cock grinds into her hip. She's not strong enough to resist this. Never with him. And she's not even sure she'd fight back if she was strong enough.
The mystery of it all, she thinks, is that he's her addiction, but she's not his.
He cups her--she's so wet for him, despite her frustration, despite her guilt--and he groans against her neck. She unzips his pants, freeing him, and hikes her leg up on his hip, giving him access to her, giving in again.
He fucks her like it's the last time they'll fuck--he always does when he screws up, when he knows she's seething with anger and distrust. He gives it to her hard and she wants it harder, faster, pulling at his hair, scratching her fingernails across his skin, wanting him to bleed.
She comes with her eyes squeezed shut and his cock deep inside her and he groans when she cries out, her body tingling, her head clear of everything for a few blissful moments.
She wants him to come inside her. She still wants that from him, still wants him to leave a part of himself behind. She squeezes his cock and pants and grabs his ass and moans his name to make him come--she knows exactly how to do it, and he buries his face in her shoulder and gets off inside her with a shudder.
"Nobody else knows you like I do," she whispers, dragging her fingernails up his back as his thrusts slow. "Quit searching for what you already have."
He's still buried in her cunt and she closes her eyes, listening to him breathe. She wonders if he'll listen this time.
Title: Consultation
Author: icedteainthebag
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: (TXF/Political RP) Dana Scully/Barack Obama (and I burn in Hell)
Summary: Time for secret service.
Author's Note: This fic was written for the xf_pornbattle.
x x x x
She walks the long hallway to his office, lush red carpeting giving under her three-inch heels. She's allowed to come and go as she pleases in the White House. Not many people can say that.
She enters the room and closes the door. Barack is sitting at his oversized desk, impeccibly organized despite having the affairs of the world spread across it. The drapes are closed, which is a good move on his part.
He watches, amused, as she strides over to him. She knows she looks good--black suit/short skirt, heels, her red hair glossy and straight past her shoulders. He likes her like this.
She perches on the edge of his desk, a shoe dangling from her toe. His gaze is intent, their eyes locked. She pulls her hair behind her ear.
"You called for secret service?" she murmurs, arching an eyebrow.
He slides a firm hand down her calf, taking her shoe off and placing it in the middle of his desk. Same with the other. His hand travels up her leg to her inner thigh, just under her skirt. She shivers.
"I issued an executive order," he says, his voice a lush baritone, his fingers curling under the lace of her thigh-high stockings.
After he'd been elected, she'd been called in as a consultant on the application of interthecal stem cells in pediatric patients. He'd met with her, commended her on her work with Christian Fearon.
They'd fucked in the Lincoln bedroom that night, on the carpet, not the bed. He didn't want to break it. She's convinced they would have.
This was one of her "consulting" visits, or so she told Mulder. Part of her felt bad, but it wasn't strong enough to convince her ego to stop fucking the young, attractive leader of the free world.
Barack drags each stocking down her leg, then begins kissing her bare skin, ever closer to the line of her skirt. She spreads her legs, shifting on the table. She moans when his hand slides up her skirt to grasp her hip.
His lips greet the inside of her knee and he looks up at her. The intensity of his gaze makes her quiver.
"I'm going to eat you raw," he says.
"Jesus," she whispers. She presses her hands against the desk so he can push her skirt up past her hips. She's throbbing hard as his mouth moves on her inner thighs. He doesn't stop watching her.
Her thong is easy to push aside and his tongue slides through her roughly, quickly. We're always on borrowed time, she thinks. It's good he makes me come so fast.
He's soon voraciously lapping and sucking at her pussy and she grips his head, leaning back on one hand. He growls his approval against her when she starts to whimper rhythmically, telling him she's already close. She's nearly ashamed at how quickly this happens.
He tongues her clit and she comes hard against his mouth, wanting to cry out, knowing she can't. Shockwaves pass through her body. She braces herself as he rises and yanks her off the desk by her thighs. He loves to start fucking her while she's still twitching.
He turns her around and pushes her down on the desk. She looks around the round walls of his office and presses her cheek against a pile of papers.
He enters her to the hilt and she bites her lip to keep from crying out. "That's it," he growls, one hand tangling in her hair.
"Fuck me," she hisses through her teeth. He makes her remember how she likes to be used. She squeezes him and he starts thrusting harder, grinding her hips into the desk.
"I've got cock you can believe in," he pants between thrusts.
"I want to believe," she breathes with a tiny smile.
She wonders how long he could really last if they weren't in a hurry. If they could get a hotel room together for a weekend and let it all go. But this is as close as they'll ever get to that, so they can get back to their obligations with the least suspicion possible.
His fingers grip her as he comes hard inside her with a restrained, deep groan and a final rough thrust. They breathe in their final, stolen moments and then he steps away and clears his throat.
She stands up and adjusts herself, tugging down her skirt. She calms her hair with shaking fingers. They share a smile.
"Thank you, Dr. Scully," he says. "You truly are the Ambassador of Sexy Times."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
They shake hands firmly.