Chapter Text
Dudley, Arkansas, 1996
"Looks like someone's been playing with matches …" Mulder murmurs.
The large, bright beam of Scully's flashlight darts around the darkened records office of the Seth County Courthouse. The sharp, acrid odor of an angry fire almost immediately doused by the building's sprinklers teases her nose. Her torch illuminates the scene before her and her partner, Fox Mulder - blackened piles of paper documents burnt crisp and then turned soggy and foul-smelling.
"No coincidence that only the birth records were hit," he adds with a triumphant note in his deep voice.
Dana Scully shoots him a glance. He's hellbent on this theory that the good people of Dudley, Arkansas have obtained prolonged life by cannibalizing outsiders to their quaint and charming town in the Ozarks foothills. In fact, Mulder seems to think that his theory holds as much water as her theory that several townsfolk have contracted the rare Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease by eating George Kearns, former plant manager at Chaco Chicken.
"Smells like a recent fire …" Scully says.
She stabs the beam of her flashlight into the dark corners of the room as she hears (or she thinks she hears) the soft patter of retreating footsteps. Scully forces her breathing to slow and her heartrate to deaccelerate. The creepy conspiratorial air of this town is getting to her …
"Y'OK, Scully?" Mulder murmurs.
His big body and lanky frame hovers over her. And she flashes an appreciative smile up at her partner. His mere presence - the smell of his aftershave, the warm ruffle of his spearmint-flavored breath on her neck, the gently concerned glint in his big, soulful, fog-green eyes - calms her, grounds her, lends her strength. She's relied on Mulder for strength and support almost since the beginning of their partnership. But since her abduction and subsequent coma earlier this year … Well, the change in their relationship has been palpable. There is almost a current of live electricity crackling between them now. Scully and Mulder need only a touch, only a glance, to communicate their deepest thoughts - and desires - to one another. And only the simplest caress or whispered word from one is enough to calm and comfort the other.
It is love, plain and simple. And Agent Dana Scully, who has always built up sturdy walls to protect her heart, knows she and her partner are in love with the certainty of tomorrow's sunrise.
"Com'on," Mulder says softly to her once he's sure she's all right.
"Where are we going?" she replies in the same undertone, following Mulder's lead as well as her own instincts telling her to keep her voice low.
"To check out the marriage records …"
"Why?" Scully asks.
She's genuinely puzzled. (Despite her love for him - or perhaps because of it - Mulder always seems to be stretching her very rational brain to its limits.) However, a glimmer of instinctive understanding glows in her heart like a sleeping ember. Before they departed for the Ozarks foothills, she'd noticed his nervous ticks, his repetitive behaviors that she generally took for granted in their day-to-day lives together as partners. His foot jiggle was more pronounced than previous times; he, however, had abstained from sunflower seeds during this entire investigation which was certainly something of note.
Scully knows exactly what he's about to ask her. She knows it with the same gentle certainty with which she knows that her heart will continue to pump blood or that she'll feel hunger or thirst or that the winter will, irresistibly, turn into the Spring.
But what if she's wrong?! She tucks down her chin and waits for Mulder to answer her query. If she's wrong - if she is mortifyingly wrong - then what? She could play it off like she does his sh*tty jokes. And if she's right …? Her cheeks color warmly.
In fact, it's this gentle certainty in her heart that keeps her from laughing outright at him when he tells her: "To maybe add one to them?"
She smiles, showing off her teeth, but she still doesn't dare make eye contact with him. "Agent Mulder, are you asking me to be your wife?"
He stops her, abruptly, but gently. She stops alongside her partner. Mulder tilts up her chin with a finger. This very forward touch steals her breath away. Scully gazes up into his drowsy dark emerald eyes.
"That is exactly what I'm asking you to do, Agent Scully," he replies in his soft, low voice as gentle and drowsy as a bee's lazy drawl.
~*~
"M-Mulder, I'd like to change … if that's OK," Scully murmurs shyly.
"Why?" he asks, grinning broadly, half from nervousness, half from greatly aroused anticipation. His green eyes smolder as they take in his lovely, petite partner dressed in her pale pastel green pantsuit - one of his favorites. He's always loved the way it accentuates the subtle but pronounced flare of her hips, her tiny waist and small, neat breasts. "You look beautiful in that!"
A warm blush colors her creamy skin rose. "Well, maybe to crack a cannibal cult conspiracy wide open, but not to get married in."
Mulder reaches out to gently trace one large finger along her perfect jawline. Her big, soulful blue eyes peer up at him from under her long, russet, fernlike lashes. "Please?"
He bends down, taking her beautiful face in his hands, massaging her cheeks with his thumbs. "Don't be long …" he whispers into her soft, lustrous mane of red tresses.
"Impatient are we?" Scully teases, flashing her contagious smile, sapphire eyes dancing with mischief.
Mulder collapses his lanky frame against the courthouse wall and sighs only in half mock-frustration. Yes, he's waited this long to wed his lady love … But (if his raging boner is any indication) waiting a few moments more is going to be a struggle.
Besides, he can't imagine what on Earth she would change into … her teal pantsuit, perhaps? Or maybe her lilac one? Now that Mulder thinks about it, he's never seen Scully in anything else but her FBI business attire, her casual clothes of jeans and low-cut cardigans and her outdoor outfits of boots, chambray shirts and dungarees.
As the minutes stretch by, he starts to pace like a tiger. Though Mulder teases her about it, Scully is usually dressed and ready at the drop of a hat. In fact, he's beginning to get a little nervous at her prolonged absence.
"Scully?" he calls out softly at the door to the ladies' room. "Scully -?"
"I'm coming," she hums in reply. She sounds … bashful, almost as nervous as he's feeling. And almost as excited, if the undercurrent of husky arousal in her voice is any indication. "I'm almost ready, Mulder. Meet me in the records office, OK?"
"Oh … OK," he says. He wonders if all brides-to-be act so … mysterious? But why is he feeling so restlessly impatient? Within the hour he and Scully will be saying their vows as man and wife.
He pads back into the darkened records office. It still stinks to high heaven, not to mention the black, charred and soggy walls and floors; he wonders if they should find a more romantic setting to be wed?
Then the heavy, old door keenly creaks open. And Mulder does a double-take. Scully, eyes cast down and a rosy flush of shyness coloring her cheeks, eases inside the room. His jaw drops open and for several moments Mulder is without words. In fact, the sight of her steals his breath. She is clothed in a white dress, beautiful in its simplicity, with scalloped sleeves at her elbows. Its bodice swoops low beneath her clavicle, accentuating the tops of her small, white breasts. Its skirt hangs in a split above her knee and tumbles to the carpet in a short, silvery train. Her reddish gold hair tumbles down her back and around her softly smiling face. In the moonlight streaming in through the window, she looks like an angel.
Mulder's dick goes rigid. His shock at seeing his breathtakingly beautiful bride-to-be is tinged with mild indignation.
"Scully! How - How did you know?!" he whispers.
She smirks. Along with her charming blush, her smile seems to light up her face from within, making her positively glow.
"Please, Mulder. You've been so nervous lately, you can barely tie your own shoes," she replies. "I took a wild guess that this was the reason why."
"Pretty good guess!" he says, his annoyance at her guessing his surprise proposal tempered by getting to see her in all her blushing, beautiful, white-gowned glory.
They clasp hands before the yawning justice of the peace, a wizened old woman clutching a bathrobe around her scrawny body. Mulder sees bunny slippers peeking out from under the hem of her long nightgown.
"Very well, you two lovebirds," she grouches. "The sooner you say your vows, the sooner we can all go back to bed."
The elderly lady, blinking sleep owlishly from eyes behind enormous horn-rimmed glasses, appears completely unfazed by the two FBI agents investigating the courthouse arson now requesting to be wed. Mulder seriously wonders how many late-night elopements the iron-haired old justice of the peace has presided over.
Then Fox Mulder glances down at Scully and all other thoughts flee his mind. She's gazing up at him with boundless love and unshed tears swimming in her soft blue eyes. The question he'd been longing to ask her ever since she awoke from her coma she had answered with an enthusiastic, resounding "yes!" And now … now she offers her small, smooth, cool, white hand to him in matrimony. Within minutes, Dana Scully will be his wife and he cannot remember a time when he's felt so full to bursting with incredible, uncomplicated joy.
He moves forward, hovering over his beautiful woman. Perhaps he's being a bit forward, but he cannot say his vows to her simply within arm's length. Mulder inhales the gently cloying fragrance of her hair; he traces his big hands along her satiny cheeks. And he feels zero trepidation, doubts or misgivings - He only wishes he'd asked her sooner to be his wife.
"Scully …" he murmurs into her soft, fragrant auburn tresses.
He's never struggled with telling anyone and everyone exactly how he feels at any given time … except for her, his beautiful, headstrong, scarily intelligent partner. But now, as he stands before Scully as her groom, is certainly not the time to be timid. He must tell her what he should have told her long ago, when she first took his hand in their basem*nt office at the Bureau, when she awoke all drowsy and freckled from her coma like a princess in a fairytale. He must tell her now exactly how he feels … not only of his burning love and devotion to her, but of his hopes and dreams for their marriage. Their future … Their children.
"Scully," he continues, his resolve lending great strength to his voice. "Do you know I've been in love with you from the moment we met? From the very second I saw you walk into our office in that remarkably baggy green plaid suit that only you could make look beautiful? Apologies for sounding so cliched, but it was truly love at first sight - something I didn't think possible."
She giggles, flashing one of her rare but sunny smiles up at him, making his heart melt like a popsicle in July. "Of all the impossible things you believe in, you didn't believe in that?" she teases.
He grins in reply. "You proved me wrong," he says softly. "You challenged me. You made me work. I …" He muses for a moment on the past two years they've shared together. Of the impossible dangers they've faced. Of the profound friendship they've shared … And of the way that close platonic bond has blossomed into love. "Since the moment my sister was taken from me, I've been so obsessed with what lies beyond our world. But you …"
He strokes her face tenderly as he gazes deep into her indigo eyes. "Dana, you were the first person who reminded me of the happiness here for me on Earth. You …"
Mulder bends down low to murmur into her ear. He feels a tremble of nervous excitement ripple through his bride's body. And her shy response to his caresses sends a bolt of hot arousal from his sternum all the way down to his groin. He wonders briefly if his raging erection is exactly … appropriate for so solemn a ceremony, but when he pulls back to meet her soft, blue gaze again, Mulder suddenly doesn't care. This impossibly beautiful woman is seconds away from being his wife. And he sees nothing wrong with thoroughly enjoying the sight of her - or his redblooded male's response to her beauty.
"You were the first person who made me believe I was deserving of that happiness," he continues huskily. Mulder feels warm salt water stab at his eyes. He's crying now, tears streaming down his face. Scully smiles through the tears shining in her own blue eyes. She cradles his face in her small mitts and wipes away his tears with her thumbs.
"Mulder …" she hums. And he watches her nipples grow hard, alert and aroused beneath the sheer satin of her white dress.
"I - I believed that the moment I found Samatha would be the greatest, happiest moment of my life," he says. "But I was wrong. The happiest time of my life was the day you awoke from your coma. That was the day I finally got it through my thick wool that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my days with - possibly the rest of eternity. I knew it then - You were the woman who would be my wife."
She gazes up at him. Tears flow down her face in earnest now. But her voice is clear, rock strong and steady as she answers with vows of her own:
"Mulder, my science and strict rationale, I've always fallen back on it, relied on it, to help me make sense of the world," she murmurs softly. "But when I met you - Mulder, when I met you! - you reminded me why I wanted to be a scientist in the first place: the wonders and mysteries of the universe. Of not only what lies beyond our planet, beyond our solar system, but what lies inside of me …"
A little secretive smile curls her pretty russet lips. Mulder stares at them and realizes, with a jolt, that in a matter of seconds Scully will be his wife. And, he thinks, licking his own lips, he'll be able to kiss them any time he wants …
"Inside of my heart, Mulder," Scully says. "Our work together on the X-Files showed me circ*mstances that challenged my scientist's mind. Things I'd believed in as a younger woman, things about myself I'd long buried …" A little frown clouds the otherwise clear sky of her face and Mulder wonders at it. He'd wanted their wedding night to be perfect for her - or at least as perfect a night as their unorthodox lives will allow. "These things inspired my mind. But Mulder, your tenacity, your gentleness, your sense of wonder, your boyish sense of fun …!" She cannot help a grin and a giggle at this and he smiles his encouragement to his gorgeous bride, glad to see her happy and laughing again. "These things inspired my heart."
Scully gazes up at him. Her blue eyes are clear and true. And she smiles at him, her cream skin blushing rose. And Mulder knows that, no matter what he's seen, no matter what he will see until the end of his days. He knows that not one thing will compare to the incredible awesome beauty of his bride.
"Mulder, you showed me how to fall in love," she finishes simply in her soft, slightly slurred Mid-Atlantic drawl. "And, now," she adds shyly. "That love will make a new beginning inside of me … children."
Mulder presses his forehead against hers and looks deep into her sapphire gaze. He rubs his nose against hers in a tender Eskimo kiss. He wonders if, by this time next year, her belly will be round with his baby and her large, beautiful eyes will reflect back the love they share - the love that will put his child inside of her.
"As did you me, Scully," he whispers huskily into her hair.
They hear an innocuous sniff. They simultaneously glance around to see the old justice of the peace wiping her eyes.
"Damned allergies!" she grumbles. With the sleight of hand to put a seasoned magician to shame, the old lady throws a handful of rice straight into their faces. "Congratulations! Now, sir," she croaks to Mulder. "Give your pretty bride some sugar."
~*~
Bluff Springs Bed & Breakfast, Dudley, Arkansas
Dana Scully wonders if all new brides are so … jittery on their wedding night? She seriously wishes she had paid more attention to her mother when Maggie spoke to her teenage daughter about the prospective night of her wedding - and what would be expected of her by her new husband. For Dana had only ever thought about marriage in the abstract. During her younger days, if she had troubled herself enough to think about it, she, in the vaguest terms, would have imagined herself marrying a fellow doctor and having four kids and a nice, big house for them all. Marriage to a man, however, was certainly not something she spent any amount of time fantasizing about. Since high school, she'd had boyfriends, but they had to seek her out, court her. And even then, with her medical condition, Scully broke off those relationships just as soon as her suitors proposed marriage … or sex.
Almost as soon as she met Mulder, during their first case in Bellefleur, she'd fantasized about her partner's broad shoulders and drowsy green eyes being passed along to her children. And, of course, she understands that penetrative sex with him is required and necessary for their future babies, but … knowing these things as true and actually confronting them are two very different things, Scully can see.
And, technically, now that they've said their vows … she is his. Her duties are outlined very clearly in her wedding vows to him - she cannot refuse whatever amorous advances he has planned for her tonight. Scully feels a ripple of nervous energy pulse through her belly. Her Kegel muscles contract as her pelvic floor tightens. A pleasurable sensation shimmers through her cervix up to her womb, but she feels some potent fear too at the prospect of her and Mulder consummating their love tonight.
She takes a deep breath and forces her back and neck muscles and loins to relax, however. This is Mulder she's thinking about; sweet, funny, gentle, goofy Mulder. He would never hurt her, even if their marriage vows made him feel obligated to penetrate her tonight.
Scully feels a hot blush race up her neck to color her cheeks rose. She's standing before the vanity in her darkened room at the bed and breakfast. Inside the vanity mirror - lit by the soft, yellow glow of a lamp perched over it - she spies her reflection. She's taken off her white gown and she's standing there, shivering slightly in the October chill creeping under the door, in a sheer satin slip. Its sparse but lovely trim of lace accentuates the sweet, lush outline of her tit*, her trim stomach and the gentle flare of her hips which she usually keeps hidden beneath her austere dress of pantsuits and business skirts. Her creamy skin glows, tinted with a soft rose blush. Her light auburn hair tumbles all around her face and shoulders in a fiery waterfall. Her large, blue eyes gleam back at her.
Am I … beautiful? she wonders internally. She was never conceited enough to think so, but Scully supposes a young woman can be a bit … vain on her wedding night. Scully looks at the way the light of the lamp catches in stars in her wide, indigo eyes and she wonders if her shy beauty will please her new husband Fox Mulder.
There is a soft knock at the door, as well as Mulder's gentle, murmured: "Scully …? Can I come in?"
She can't help but smile at his soft request. Of course, he may enter her room. He's her husband now. Legally and by her own admission, she cannot refuse his advances. Another tremble of soft, frightened anticipation races through her body. Her body's trepidatious, aroused, yet unbidden reaction to the thought of him taking her here and now unsettles her. Scully wants him - her puss* is dripping as her imagination runs away with her - but she's also afraid.
Mulder making love to her will be painful … certainly the first time; of this she is sure.
Mulder slips inside of her room, the dark silhouette of his tall figure filling the doorway. He glances around blindly as his eyes adjust to the softly lamplit surroundings. Then Scully hears him catch his breath as he spots her standing shyly beside the vanity.
"S-Scully …?" he whispers.
She sees the eyes of her new husband widen and gleam like two green moons as he takes in her appearance. The expression on his handsome face is part awe at the sight of his FBI partner and new bride standing before him in nothing but a thin slip of satin … and part burning arousal … Scully sees Mulder's desire for her smoldering in his eyes like grey-green embers. And she remembers that he has never seen her this way. Oh, of course, they have seen one another naked, but those were the most dire of circ*mstances. Life-and-death situations in which one had to save the other and, sometimes, that required stripping his or her partner of his or her clothes. But even during those chaotic times, Scully and Mulder very carefully respected their partner's autonomy and agency, never looking upon their nakedness unless absolutely necessary and then swiftly and clinically - taking great care not to sexualize the other's nudity without his or her expressed permission.
But now? Now, Scully is Mulder's wife. And he may look at her whenever and however he likes.
Her blush deepens until her cheeks are on fire as Mulder's eyes rove hungrily down her clavicle and breasts. His worshipful gaze travels down, down her torso, waist, hips and thighs, lingering on each area of her small body, like his eyes have been starving to see her without any of the façades and barriers she erects against the outside world. This is how he's been longing to see her … naked, natural, her beauty breathtaking in its simplicity. And, now, Mulder looks and looks like he'll never get enough of the sight of her.
She pads shyly towards him, trembling in her nightdress like a small, lovely ghost. Scully steps up to him, the top of her auburn head barely touching his collarbone. Mulder inhales slowly, quietly, tentatively as if she is some timid, fascinating, wild animal that will flee if he startles her. Just seeing her pale, bare arms and exposed, shapely thighs and calves is making an enormous erection pitch a tent in his trousers. What will her husband do when he sees her standing before him without even a scrap of satin between them? Scully trembles from fear, cold and anticipation.
She slowly touches a silken strap of her nightdress to let the garment fall from her body to crumple and hang around her hips. Mulder's inhale is very sharp as he sees the soft, round, pale globes of her breasts, their smooth whiteness only interrupted by the rose points of her nipples.
Mulder stares, jaw sagging slightly. Then he blinks as he seems to return to his senses. He quickly tries to snatch the slip back up from around her waist to cover her completely.
"Scully! You don't have to do this!"
But she stays his hand. "No, Mulder," she answers softly, her calm tone in direct contrast to her trembling body and blue eyes wide with fear. "I … I want to …"
"But -!" he argues.
She lets her nightdress fall completely from her body to the deep, soft, wine-red carpet. And she stands before her man nude and pale in the yellow lamplight. For several moments Mulder simply cannot speak. Breathtaking … It's the only word he can even think to describe her. Her hips flare slightly in the most charming way down to trim, creamy, smooth thighs in front and the most shapely buttocks he's ever had the pleasure of seeing behind her. A soft tangle of ginger hair covers the gentle, alluring slope of her mound. Mulder spies the gorgeous, delicate petals of her womanhood like a pale orchid blooming amongst the bramble of her lovely auburn pubic hair.
He knows this woman so intimately. They've gone to hell and back together. They've faced shadowy government conspirators, deadly mutants and brutal serial killers with their trust and faith in one another as their only weapons against them. Not even her abduction and subsequent coma could keep Scully from reaching out to him from whatever lies beyond death to her partner grieving for her in the world of the living. In short, they are soulmates.
But now? Now, he is seeing dimensions of his lover and partner he never has before. She's revealing little, intimate characteristics about herself that Mulder knows every other man on this planet is ignorant of. Her breasts are beautifully asymmetrical, the right being slightly smaller than the left. A maroon birthmark adorns her right breast just above the areola and he admires every single freckle that flecks the pale skin below her clavicle like constellations in the night sky.
Mulder has never noticed the way the soft light of gently turned-down lamps catch in her soft cornflower eyes to turn them blue-violet with a million sparkles. He's never seen the way her long hair tumbles around her naked shoulders and bare breasts like a coppery-red waterfall. Or the way the soft lights of their hotel room make a hazy golden halo around her fiery head.
"Scully … Scully …" he murmurs again and again, in shock and awe at her nakedness. His big, green eyes gaze back at her soulfully. Looking into them makes her stomach leap in a giddy manner. If anyone had told her two years ago that she would someday be standing before Agent Fox Mulder nude in their honeymoon suite, she would have laughed.
Impulsively, she stands on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
His eyes widen at his reserved partner's very forward display. Scully feels the long, rigid bulk of his erection snake along her belly as he steps closer. She suddenly panics, trembling violently. "I - I didn't mean to …" she stammers.
"Dana," Mulder hums. He gently grasps her smooth, white upper arms. He looks directly into her eyes and gives her one of his trademarked roguish grins. "We're married now. You can kiss me." His dreamy fog-green eyes flicker down to her lips. "May I kiss you?"
They've kissed four times before - twice during heat-of-the-moment circ*mstances on their first case in Oregon, once during a languid moment at the Liberty Bell on a case in Philadelphia and then about an hour ago when they said their marriage vows - but all of their interactions have been chaste. In fact, Mulder planted an ardent kiss on her mouth following the ceremony, but his lips were closed. It was a kiss between two friends, not a passionate exchange between lovers. But when he broke the kiss at their wedding ceremony, Scully saw the way his dark eyes raked down her breasts and torso to tell her that his thoughts for her were anything but platonic.
Mulder has that same look in his eyes now as he studies his new bride. His expression is … hungry. He seems to vibrate with barely contained desire for her. He nips his lower lip as his eyes search her face for an answer.
Scully smiles, charmed and disarmed. God, she thinks. Only Mulder would beg his wife's permission to kiss her on his wedding night. She nods.
He swoops down like an eagle. He takes her small, but proud jaw in his big, veiny hands. He sucks on her lower lip. Then his tongue, potent with the taste of his desire, bursts into her mouth. It finds her tongue and dances with it. She tastes the cloying bite of spearmint on his breath. She closes her eyes, savoring the flavor of his saliva, the brush of stubble on his shadowy chin against her own smooth face. Her fingers move up his stallion's neck to twine in his dark hair.
God, the man could give a kiss.
She breaks the kiss, gasping: "Mulder! Mulder - AH! - I … I love you."
"I love you, FBI Woman," he whispers in reply, voice hoarse with passion.
He becomes silent and still; his lips hover at her collarbone. He dares not venture further to explore his lover's body. Mulder pulls back. But he puts his arms around her trembling, nude body. His voice floats to her through the deep shadows.
"Scully … it's OK …"
But his hard body pressed against hers only makes her tremble harder. She feels the soft butterfly wings of his lips against her ear.
"I just want you to know that I'm not going to do anything to hurt you - or make you feel scared or uncomfortable."
She tilts up her chin to look him in the eye. "Mulder! My - My wedding vows very clearly outline what -" She blushes furiously, but continues on: "what … what is expected of me tonight." She looks away at the giant grin spreading across her husband's face.
"I know, Scully. I know what you said. I was there," he teases.
She crosses her arms across her little, bare breasts and scowls. If she wasn't completely naked with gooseflesh racing up her creamy skin and her nightdress crumpled on the floor, Mulder would swear she's Agent Dana Scully, ready to rationally pick apart his theory. His eyes glimmer as desirous anticipation tightens his stomach. He feels his testicl*s draw up to his painfully rigid shaft as he wonders exactly how they could ever touch as lovers without him ejacul*ting as soon as she puts her hands on him. Mulder imagines shooting his hot spray all over her pretty, little tit* and his vision almost goes dark with desire for her.
She says: "With my medical condition there simply isn't any way consummating our marriage won't hurt or even be possible if we -"
"Scully?"
She peers up at him. He's become very familiar with the steely glint in her eye; it's the same as she wears when drawing down on a desperate criminal. But she still shivers. The proud and beautiful Dana Scully - his wife - is still frightened. Seeing his partner, a fierce tigress of a woman in any other place and situation, so soft and shy and naked and vulnerable here in his arms makes Mulder feel more like a man than he ever has before. He trembles too, but not from fear.
"Scully, we have the rest of our lives to make children." He pushes his nose against the top of her head. He savors the sleekness of her hair and her amazing, delicious fragrance. "We'll figure it out. If we have to turn to in-vitro fertilization to do it, we'll have a family. But until then … There are other ways for us to consummate our love."
"Like kissing?" she answers shyly.
He almost chuckles at her, but then stops when he realizes she's only half-joking. She pushes herself up again on tiptoe to kiss him. This kiss, however, is decidedly not chaste. Scully presses her tongue hungrily to his. She nips softly at his lower lip and then trails her lips down his thick neck, nibbling at his skin as she goes. She wants him, Mulder thinks through his haze of shock at her forwardness.
As she kisses him, her fingers tear at his buttons. She breaks away from his mouth to groan her frustration. Then she pauses; she lets her hands drop. But Mulder hadn't missed it - the incredible current of desire flowing through her body like electricity. He hadn't missed the primal way her hands tore at his clothes.
He can tell she wants to explore his body in the same way he wants to hers. But she's been so timid; he'd never even considered that she's burning up with just as much lust as he is.
"Scully," he whispers with a tender smile. "Remember, I'm yours too now. You can touch me anywhere and in anyway you want."
Her eyes search his. A smile as sweet as the first spring sun melting the snow spreads across her face. He carefully helps her unbutton his shirt. Her capable, dexterous, little doctor's hands gently, methodically strip him of his clothes. Her blue eyes widen as his clothing falls away from his lean body. Of course, she is a medical doctor. She intimately understands all the parts of the body, male and female. But Scully knows that there is a massive difference between knowing every part of a human body and knowing every part of the body of the man who will spend the rest of his days making love to her.
Mulder is utterly charmed by her innocent curiosity as she undresses him. She thoroughly studies each and every part of him as he sheds his clothes. Her fingers crawl up his chest through his thick, soft, brown mat of hair. She inhales sharply as she sees his lean, bare torso, his sinewy arms, his trimmed and flat belly. His abdominal muscles make a V pointing down to the trail of body hair leading to his groin.
Scully's fingers flutter at the fly of his trousers. He helps her. His dick - blue-veined and uncircumcised - snakes out to slip rigidly along her belly. She gasps a bit.
"My pet mamba doesn't bite. I promise."
"You idiot," she giggles.
He hears the nervous undercurrent in her voice. He's practically squirming with nervousness too. He wants everything to be perfect for her, certainly for tonight, the night of their wedding.
Her silence stretches out to the point he worries. He kisses her cheek. "Scully?"
"Um …" she hums, voice warmed with embarrassment. She's eying his co*ck. "It's just … Mulder, it's really big."
Of course, she'd had her suspicions about his manhood almost from the moment they met. And just thinking about what exactly kind of serpent he kept in his trousers could make her cheeks flame. But actually seeing it …? Scully has never had a lover of his size before. The walls of her vagin*l canal contract in anticipation as it gushes a stream of sweet, hot pre-cum to dribble down her thigh.
He chuckles as he cuddles her close. He's gotten used to this reaction over the years. He's endowed and he knows it. And perhaps that makes him a bit of a smug bastard, but Mulder has always prided himself on being a gentle lover. And he's determined to be as gentle as possible with his lovely new wife.
A sudden idea strikes her. She kneels to stroke his co*ck. The purple glans eagerly emerges from its sheath of foreskin.
"S-Scully …!" Mulder cries.
She runs her small hand along his enormous shaft which is almost the width of her wrist. She cups his balls expertly, squeezing them very gently in her palm. Then she runs her tongue around the tip of his head.
"Scully - f*ck!" he groans.
Smiling internally, she swirls her tongue along his glans.
"Scully … wait! I'm - I'm gonna cum if - ah - if you keep that up!"
She stops immediately. She raises her head. Seeing the glittering trail of pre-cum on her face almost makes him ejacul*te anyway. Then she smirks up at him and his eyes widen in surprise. This was her plan all along! Acting all bashful while she knew exactly how to get him off!
He laughs and scoops her up in his arms. It's classic Scully, always wanting to have something on him.
"It goes to show what sleeping with a medical doctor will get you!" he hisses playfully into her ear.
"It will get you off?" she asks him sweetly.
He nuzzles his face against her neck, teasing her in her most ticklish spot. She giggles, her high girlish laugh of abandon sending chills of sheer happiness - and lust - up his spine.
He's behind her now. She's being held naked in his arms in the most vulnerable position. He could have her in any way he likes right now and there is exactly nothing she could do about it. The very thought makes another hot, wet gush flow from her puss* down her thighs.
"Have our vows been consummated?" he feels her sweet lips murmur against his neck.
"Not quite," he replies gently. "Can I … Can I pleasure you … with my mouth?"
She is quiet, her gentle breaths stretching long into the darkness of their room. "You … want to go down on me?" she finally asks, her soft voice puzzled.
He wonders why she sounds so surprised. "Are - do you not like cunniling*s?"
"N-No," she responds softly. There is a note of intrigue now in her voice, as if he's revealed something about himself she can't quite understand. She turns around and her indigo eyes search his. "I just, um, I had no idea that there are men that like to do that."
His jaw falls open. She had no idea …?
f*ck it, what were her boyfriends even like?! Mulder tries to imagine her past sex life with her past male lovers. Men, Mulder thinks with simmering anger. Men that could not appreciate a remarkable woman like Scully enough to bring her to climax through oral pleasure.
Well, that all changes tonight…
"Well, this man does!" he growls into her ear.
He cradles her against his chest. He lifts her abruptly and she squeaks. "M-Mulder?" He's been a perfect gentleman up to this point, but she sees a flash of powerful, primal desire ripple through his biceps, his torso, his thighs. Scully feels the iron strength of his arms and the great, gentle, loving pulse of his big, generous heart. A painful death couldn't drag the admission out of her, but him holding her like this makes her feel more vulnerable and delicate than she ever has.
And she loves it. It makes her feel like more of a woman than ever before.
He lays her down on the big four-poster bed. She lays on the sleek, crackling sheets, gazing up at her husband and wondering at the utter primality she felt ripple through his lean body as he carried her. But she cannot be afraid of Fox Mulder; she trusts him with her very life.
"Is this OK?" he asks. He kneels between her legs and slides his head between the smooth white slopes of her thighs. She gasps and draws up, but assures him: "Y-Yeah!"
"Excellent!" he says.
He can't resist giving the pliable, white flesh of her thigh a loving, tender, little nibble which makes her whimper in the most alluring way.
And he eats well. He drinks well too. He laps her up like melted ice cream. He licks her vulva with long, slow, sensual strokes. Her grip on his scalp tightens. Her hips buckle and her thighs shiver as she crumbles all around him.
"Mulder! sh*t!" she moans. She's been keeping her voice to a minimum up until this point in their tryst. Now, however, his tongue quests up, caressing the soft pink curtains of her vulva and she pays no mind to her volume. "Goddammit! Yes!" she cries out.
"Scully, please - please, can I put a finger inside of you?" he emerges to ask her softly.
"Yes!" she mewls. "Yes!"
Damn, she's pent up! he thinks. Mulder almost wonders if a man has ever given her an org*sm before. He knows good and well Scully has had more than a few woman lovers since her youth, but her boyfriends have been few and far between. And, with Scully's condition of vagin*l stenosis, penetrative sex would be difficult, not to mention very painful. Could it be possible …? he wonders. Is his lovely Scully, his lovely new wife, a … a … virgin?
With the utmost tenderness, Mulder inserts his middle finger into her vagin*. He gently curls his finger up to massage her cl*tor*s from within. Meanwhile, his tongue has found her rigid and alert pearl and he eagerly rolls around the button of her cl*t. Scully shrieks as wave after wave of org*smic pleasure washes over her.
Both lovers spare exactly one thought for their neighbors before being swept away on a tsunami of lust. Nothing else matters to him but bringing her to climax and nothing else matters to her but getting there.
Her legs shake strongly and then her trembling becomes weaker and weaker as the org*sms racing through her cervix up to her uterus drain her of her strength. Mulder gently grabs her ankles to restrain her and hold her steady and still as he drinks every single drop of her cum. Her flavor is sweet; her taste unbelievably creamy. Mulder realizes his thirst for the delicious taste of her womanhood cannot be quenched. He wants to drink her forever.
Scully is the one to finally end it. Her arms are as weak as a newborn kitten's as she takes his head in her hands to draw him up from between her legs.
She holds his precious head to her naked breasts, stroking his dark brown hair away from his damp forehead and reveling in the sensation of his sweat sticking to her own moist skin.
And he suckles her, taking first one then the other of her rigid nipples in his mouth to tease, lick and worship. Scully thought this was welcome aftercare, but Mulder's suckling sends more pleasurable ripples - gentler now, but very titillating - through every single nerve in her body.
"Jesus, Mulder …" she pants against the top of his head.
He releases her nipple. "I think …" he chuckles, catching his breath. He's a fit man, of course, and it sends a glimmer of smug satisfaction through Scully that she can wear him out in this way. In fact, it feels her with a kind of gratification she's never known before. "I think our vows have been consummated. Well. They've been consummated very well."
She laughs languidly against his soft hair. "Oh, I don't know. I just really don't think it took. Do you?"
He lifts his head. The look of shock on his handsome face with his mussed brown hair makes her giggle. Then he grins. He pounces, snatching his beautiful bride up in his arms. Then he rolls atop her. She loves the heavy weight of him lying on top of her. She loves to feel his bigger body atop her, strong and protective and gentle and loving. She kisses him passionately to get her point across. And he eagerly returns it.
"We have the rest of our lives to … Mrs. Fox Mulder," he says once he breaks the kiss.
"Yes, we do," she murmurs playfully against his neck. "Mister Dana Scully M.D."
He pulls back to gaze down at her. He had insisted on taking her name. It was a secret, of course, just like every aspect of their marriage, but he knows it … and she does too. It greatly arouses Dana Scully - he and her wearing one another's names like the agate rings that are the only things they're wearing right now.
"I will never get tired of being called that …" he answers her dreamily, gazing down at her with immeasurable love in his eyes.
