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one of the things I love about the x files is that Mulder isn't a macho man (though some fic authors unfortunately forget about it), and he drinks that respect women juice. close-ups are under the cut
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@kingdonmicrofic july 6, laughter (wc: 357/325)
warning: explicit
Frank has always been a little cocksure. He knows it’s not his best quality, so he’s working on it, but it’s a challenge: his upbringing encouraged it. His parents and his coaches always nurtured his confidence, and all the kids at school seemed to like him better when he insisted he knew what he was doing (especially because he usually did, in fact, know what he was doing).
So, really, it’s hardly his fault that he’s so convinced he knows exactly how he could make Mel King come.
He's pretty sure she's never been fucked. It’s not like they’ve ever talked about it, but he's pretty sure. He thinks she’s maybe never even had an orgasm, so he knows it would be intense. It would be a lot, for both of them, and he thinks about that, her eyes going shocked-wide, her body flushing red.
But she'd be nervous. She'd be so nervous, wound up tense and tight, overthinking everything, and that would make it worse for her, and he can't stand the idea of it being worse for her.
So he’s going to make her laugh. That's the plan, if he ever gets the chance.
He'll find some ticklish spot on her thighs with his tongue and hold her hips while she shrieks. He'll find a way to make some stupid joke - an inside one, something they’ve laughed about before so he knows she’ll laugh at it again. He'll keep going until she’s laughing so hard her whole body shakes. He’ll go crazy for that, her shaking underneath him, all that tightness rattling loose until there's nothing left in her body but good good more please. Then he’ll press into her and his cock will drag just right and she’ll gasp and her hips will snap and -
That's what it will be like with them. He's weirdly sure of it.
(It’s dangerous, though, being so certain of this, because sometimes they’re at work and he makes her laugh without meaning to, and she puts her hands over her mouth and squeaks while her shoulders shake, and then he has to slip into the bathroom and spit into his palm.)
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Mel didn't bother arguing with Becca. It had been an excruciating thirty minutes of Becca complaining about being the only one of them with a boyfriend, so by the time she informed Mel that they were going to cast a love spell on Frank Langdon, she just shrugged her shoulders. Whatever.
She did, casually, ask why Frank. Because Becca knew Frank, and he was nice enough.
Sure. It didn’t actually matter. None of it was real, anyway - a “love spell” on Frank would affect exactly nothing, and Becca would be satisfied, and Mel could go to bed. Sure, fine, let's cast a spell.
There wasn’t much to it - Mel suspected that Becca was making it up as she went. A circle of lit candles (mostly the cheap Yankee Candle knock-offs from the drugstore) and a strip of paper with Frank's name in Mel's handwriting, because it had to be hers, Becca said. Mel sat in the circle and held the paper to one of the flames. It caught fast, curling in on itself, and the smoke came off it gray and acrid-smelling. She jumped up to drop the burning paper into the sink, and opened the window.
"So what's supposed to happen now," Mel asked.
Becca pulled the window shut. "Now he's in love with you." She grinned wide, explaining, matter-of-fact: “It’ll be like me and Adam. He'll want to know how your day is going - all the time, every day. He'll remember things you said weeks ago. He'll show up when you need him. He’ll text you all the time, and he’ll send good morning and good night texts, too.”
Mel rolled her eyes. Ridiculous.
Frank already did text her all the time. He asked about her day and then asked follow-up questions. And some of those things - well, he’d been doing them since the start. He’d been there for her since her first day at PTMC, he’d remembered their inside jokes after months away. That didn’t mean he was in love with her. He didn’t even know her back then.
He was just a good guy. When she left her taxes almost too late, he’d turned up at her house and filed them for her. He got dressed up to go to the ren faire with her because he wanted her to have fun and he knew she wouldn’t do it alone - it was nice of him, but it didn’t mean anything. That’s what friends do.
“Trust me, Mel. He’s going to start doing those things and then you can ask him to be your boyfriend! He’ll definitely say yes.”
She blew out the candles one by one. Becca didn’t get it.
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
