the knock at your door jerks you out of the brain fog you were lost in. sprawled out on a double-sized motel bed, an infomercial for some kind of invincible steel cooking pan droning on the television. your mind wandering down dark avenues you couldn’t really control. thoughts about the current case, about mulder, about situations long passed but that you still regretted.

you glanced at the clock, red numbers glowing. 11:32

you huff, rising to your feet to let your partner in. 

you turn the knob, revealing mulder in his lounge clothes. gray sweats that were frayed at the legs and fabric thinned with wear, with a simple white t-shirt, the kind you can get in 10-packs at walmart. his hair was damp and spiky, implying he had just gotten out of the shower. you could smell his soap. 

you almost rolled your eyes. what a perfect time for him to be looking like this. sometimes around him, you feel like you must be being punished for something you did in a past life. he always showed up to your door when you were in the worst kind of headspace. 

tired, vulnerable, and seconds away from falling at his feet. like he just knew. 

you stared at him blankly. “what do you need, mulder?”

he pulled something from behind his back: a pint of ice cream. cookies and cream. your favorite.

“i uh- took a trip to the corner store over there,” he said, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. 

“i know you’ve been frustrated with this case, so i thought we could have a little treat,” he finished, an innocent smile creeping onto his face. 

you sighed and smiled slightly in return. 

as much as you hated him showing up looking like that at your door, you couldn’t hold a grudge when he was sweet like this. giving you attention. 

especially when he was always so caught up in his work. his precious x-files. 

aside from professional codes and all that, that was a big reason you refrained from having your way with him. there was no way anything would be casual between the two of you once something started. and you weren’t going to demand a relationship from him that you knew he couldn’t contribute to; that would be unfair to both of you.

but some twisted part of you always stretched out and smiled like a cat in the sun when he paid you attention like this. it validated you; it made you feel important. made you feel seen. and the thought of being seen by him gave you shivers.

you rubbed a hand over your face wearily. “uh, yeah, come in. i was just watching TV,” you lie, opening the door further and stepping aside. he walks in long strides, setting the ice cream on the little desk next to the television. 

he pulls out two flimsy plastic spoons from his pocket. he gives a hopeful smile. “i hope these will work.”

you chuckle. “i’ll use my fingers if i have to,” you joke, taking one of the spoons as he opens the pint. 

“wanna sit?” you suggest, already walking over to the bed. he follows you.

you take up your spot that you were lying on earlier, sitting criss-cross applesauce. he mirrors you, sitting at the foot of the bed. his knees briefly knock against yours as he’s getting comfortable. 

you take turns scooping the ice cream from the tub, trying to be careful so as to not break the spoons. it’s melting, though, so it gets easier.

“so, um…” he starts, glancing at the TV. “two payments of 29.99, not bad,” he jokes with a dorky smile. “AND a free gift when you call now!” he adds, eyebrows raised in faux surprise. 

you giggle at him softly, watching how the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs. 

“but seriously, how are you? you seemed tired today,” he probes, searching your eyes for anything he should be concerned about.

“mulder, you know me. i’m always tired.”

“yeah, but you almost seemed out of it. like you were miles away. not just tired; zoned out, i guess, is what i meant,” 

you sigh. deciding how vulnerable you want to be. how much truth you want to tell.

“i dont know. i guess i’m just frustrated. i’ve been feeling…” you pause, searching for the word. his eyes burn into yours.

“incompetent… as of late,” you finish.

his brows immediately knit together.

“incompetent?” he questions, almost disbelieving, like he didn’t hear you right. he takes the pint of ice cream and sets it on the nightstand, anticipating that a serious conversation is about to happen. 

“i mean-”

“no, wait. where are you even getting that from?”

“i just-” you take a minute to think. again, contemplating how much you want to tell him. you impulsively decide on everything. 

“this case has been really weird for me. i take immense pride in being in this field. i get to help people. i get to solve problems. but i feel like we’re kind of at a stalemate here. and i’m putting a lot of blame on myself. i took psychology courses; i know why i’m doing this, i know the roots of it and how my subconscious works, but i just don’t know how to stop it. i think it’s just starting to take a toll on me, mulder. I’m sorry if i’ve been slacking off or zoned out or—”

he cuts you off by snaking a hand around your wrist. soft and gentle. like cradling a baby.

“i don’t know if this is going to help you, but i’m going to tell you anyway.” he states. you feel his thumb graze your palm, and you have to fight back a shudder.

“i have never in my life seen someone as capable and as strong as you are and have been. every day i am constantly in awe that they put you in the basement with me, because you could work your way all the way up the chain of command if you wanted to. everything you want, you work hard for it, and you get it. some cases are just like that— they stay stagnant for a while. but we cannot blame ourselves. part of our jobs is to work with what we’re given. we can only do so much. you need to try and give yourself grace for this,” and now both of your hands are in his, and he’s grazing skin that has yearned for a very, very long time. 

you say it, simply because you have no resolve anymore. he has willed it away with his praising monologue. 

“i don’t get everything i want.”

he’s still staring at you with those burning sage eyes. 

“what do you mean?” he inquires, even though you have a sneaky feeling he is already privy to what you really mean. 

“i mean- i-,” you freeze as his hand is suddenly on your face, knuckles tracing your cheekbone.

“keep going,” he encourages with a nod. 

you have to fight from leaning into his touch, still trying desperately to hang on to some dignity. your eyelids flutter involuntarily when he moves his hand to the back of your neck.

“i- i don’t always get everything i want. i’ve wanted something for a while, and i haven’t gotten it.” you breathe out, praying that he won’t make you say any more. you find his eyes again, and they have a different shade to them now. his demeanor is still gentle and warm, but his eyes… they hold so much emotion and passion that it might kill you. 

there’s a pout on his lips now, that beautiful bottom lip just barely jutting out. 

“hmm... what’s that you’ve wanted for so long? that a smart, capable girl like you says she can’t get?” he’s really laying it on thick now, and his hands are getting busier. they’re combing through your hair, and then his thumbs are on your jawbone, and then his knuckles are tracing lines down your neck. it’s incredibly overstimulating all while he’s talking to you and also trying to get you to talk. 

your brain literally feels like it’s short-circuiting. neurons firing in all the wrong directions and preventing words from forming. apparently, mulder can see the gears turning and the smoke coming out of your ears and decides to help you out. 

his thumb brushes a spot behind your ear, and you finally allow yourself to shudder in response to the feeling. he’s been studying your body language since the moment he stepped in here. you’re gravitating to him like a magnet. so weary and wanting. 

his voice is low now, no longer talking at the casual frequency he was earlier. he whispers like he’s telling you a valued secret. 

“you just wanna be taken care of, is that it? always working so hard. you just need a break, don’t you?”

your eyes roll back, and he laughs, still sweeping his thumbs in soft circles on your neck.

“is that what you want? you need me to help you?” he urges, dipping his head down and trying to get you to look at him again.

“i— if you—”

he already knows. 

“i have never wanted anything more in my whole entire life,” he reassures. 

you look at him now, and you realize. it’s mulder. your mulder. your mulder that jokes with you on long car rides and calls your mom on her birthday. your mulder who does your case paperwork for you so you can focus on grad school assignments. your mulder. your partner in crime, quite literally. and then, it’s not so scary anymore.

you nod, but he doesn’t move. 

“tell me you want this.”

“i want this,” you will yourself to not stammer.

he rewards you with a kiss on your neck, the first time his lips have ever touched your bare skin. it's a warm and sweet peck that has your chest burning. 

he continues, getting sloppier while starting to lean you back against the headboard, knees now slotted in between yours.

he’s kissing your neck like he wants to eat you whole, licking and sucking and biting and leaving marks on your shoulder, just below where he knows your shirt will cover tomorrow. 

you let out a long sigh, feeling your body start to relax and melt into the mattress.

“mhm…” he murmurs, feeling your muscles go lax under his hold. “that’s it… relax.”

 as you melt, he slowly starts to melt too, settling his weight on top of you lightly.

his lips are everywhere now: your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. your hands have found themselves in his damp hair, raking through them like you’ve always wanted to.

finally, you use your grip on his hair to pull his head up and look him in the eyes. for a moment his eyes seem glazed over, but they clear up when he focuses on you. 

he smiles sheepishly. “sorry… i must have gotten carried away,” he snickers, the warmest light twinkling in his eyes. 

“don’t apologize… i’m just tired of waiting for this. i’ve waited long enough,” 

and in the end, it’s you that pulls him in and presses your lips together.

as soon as it happens, his whole body seems to jump, like he’s just been tased. you feel it too. your whole body is shaking and oozing with warmth and want for him. his kiss is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before; it’s not even what you imagined late at night, touching yourself to thoughts of him. it’s so much more than anything you could’ve prepared yourself for. 

you make a sound in the back of your throat, wanting, needing, more of him. all of him. you want to melt into him until you can’t tell where you end and he begins. he pulls you impossibly closer, so close you can feel his teeth on your tongue. you find he’s doing exactly what he’s set out to do because your brain has gone silent and fuzzy like soft TV static. there’s only thoughts of him, of his skin, of his aura enveloping you in soft light. 

he pulls away to, of all things, talk to you. 

“is this alright? is it too much?” he asks, stroking your hair.

“it’s a lot, but… not too much. it’s just enough. my brain feels fuzzy,” you confess, smiling sleepily at him, almost drunk.

he giggles at your expression and kisses you once more, loving and slow. 

“that’s exactly what i want,” he whispers against your lips. 

“i wanna make you feel safe, and i want you to be able to let go with me. does that sound good?” he was all talk before, but he wants you to know his first priority is making you feel comfortable. it makes your heart leap.

it’s your turn to cup his face. “mulder, i wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this.” 

you try your best to make it sound earnest and not like some random cliché, because really, you mean it from the depths of your soul. 

he nods, soaking in your words and locking them away in his heart. 

in his life full of misplaced trust, you are the only one he has ever been certain about. your faith in him never wavers, even in situations like these.

he grasps your hand in his to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, innocent compared to what you know he’s about to do to you. 

he flashes a devious smile. “i want you to relax for me, okay? this is about you. this is all about you,” he says, and waits for an answer. 

you nod eagerly, but he doesn’t take it.

“words.” he commands gently, thumb caressing your collarbone, and you shudder at this change in demeanor. 

“okay.”

the thought briefly crosses your mind that maybe you're in over your head, but you don’t have enough time to even consider it before he’s kissing you again. and this time, it’s hungry; he’s breathing you in, consuming you. you try your best to keep up with the pace, to keep up the push-and-pull game, but find yourself just resolving to let him do what he wants. he hums in approval once he knows you’re putty in his hands and pulls back. 

“do you know how long i’ve wanted to do this with you, sweetheart?”

your back arches at the pet name, and he smiles cockily. 

“ever since you knocked on that damn door and told me your name. the first time i ever saw you, i was fucking done for. is that pathetic or fate, do you think?”

you whimper as his warm hands slide up your shirt without warning. sweeping over your ribcage and coming around to cradle your back.

“i- i don’t know what it is, but i know it’s mutual,” you breathe, getting fed up with the edge he has you dangling over; the anticipation of it is making your legs shake. 

“fo—” you choke as you catch yourself, “mulder, please.”

one of his hands snakes around to rest on your lower abdomen, massaging slightly, kneading the tension there. 

his lips are at your ear suddenly. 

“say it. you can say it, baby.” he reassures you that you’re not crossing some invisible line, and caution is thrown to the wind. 

“fox…” you breathe it like a sacred mantra, like it’s the most important and precious word on this earth.

you watch his eyebrows furrow in emotion, gazing at you with such intensity and love that you physically can’t take it anymore. but the good news is, he can’t either. 

before you can even start to complain again, his fingers are pulling down your shorts and flinging them on the floor. he moves his body down in between your knees, now kneeling between them. you long for his closeness again but quickly forget about it when a single finger comes up to your panties and gently feels you through your clothes, rubbing so softly that it almost doesn’t feel like anything.

his eyebrows are knit with concentration, committing the sight of you to memory. his finger applies more pressure and continues rubbing lazily and aimlessly up your clothed cunt. a shiver runs through you, his finger sending sparks up your whole body. 

he finally gets to your clit and presses softly with his thumb. you almost jump off the bed in surprise, and he has to hold your hips down with his other arm. he eases you into it by sweeping soft, slow circles on the hood of your clit, just barely pressing. 

“oh…” you shudder, sinking into the pillows, your stomach tensing up already. 

he’s looking at you as if you’re a work of art hanging in a museum, watching your facial expressions with rapt attention as your eyes screw shut and you try to breathe.

“yeah, baby… breathe into it,” he says gently, his other hand coming up to sweep across the stomach that he so admires, squeezing the skin softly. 

finally, once you're writhing and bucking your hips for more, he drags your panties down your legs. once you’re bare, there’s a moment where he just looks at you. his eyes rake over your bare cunt with such affection that you don’t think you’ve ever seen from him before. he almost looks honored to see this intimate part of you, like it’s something he wants burned in his brain for the rest of his life. 

“so beautiful,” he muses, “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

he’s staring into your eyes now, intense, just as he was earlier. 

you don’t know what to say, so you just blush and smile shyly at him. he comes up quickly to give you one more affectionate kiss. 

“relax for me again,” he instructs, and you do the best you can, snuggling back into the pillows again, buzzing with anticipation. 

he makes his way back down your body, pausing every now and then to leave sweet kisses on your skin. 

finally, he reaches his destination. he leaves kisses all around your labia, preparing you and teasing you at the same time, indulging himself in the process.

then finally, finally, he licks a warm line through your wet folds all the way up to your clit, and when he gets there, his mouth is around it in an instant. you buck up into the sensation with a sharp cry, his warm mouth soothing your aching nerves. 

your hands are in his hair again almost immediately, pulling him closer. his mouth is suckling your clit ever-so-gently, and then he switches to soft kitten licks that send warmth all throughout your stomach. you feel the waves of warmth wash over you, letting yourself melt into them, letting yourself fully relax. 

he continues his work on your clit, touching it with his tongue like it’s the most fragile thing he’s ever come in contact with. it’s so much different than if he would have been rough with it, because his gentleness serves as a soft sea of pleasure to melt into instead of being jerked around by large tidal waves (which you know you would also enjoy another time). but as he said, this was for you.

it’s so good that you start smiling uncontrollably, giggling softly as he continues lapping at you slowly. he stops briefly, coming up to rub at your bud again with two fingers, circling lazily. 

“feels good?” he asks, laying his chin on your lower abdomen to gaze at you with those boyish, mischievous eyes. 

you laugh harder at this, “duh!” you giggle, looking down at him.

he mirrors your dopey smile, relishing the giddy, soft state you were in. he savored the fact that he did this to you, that he was making you feel like this. 

you start to whimper softly, and your giggles are replaced with a pout. 

“fox, i want more,” you whine, bucking your hips back up. 

he looks at you with almost a kind of pity. no matter how pure his intentions were, he knew he was teasing you without even really realizing it, overcome by the need to drag it out, to make it last as long as possible. 

but who was he to deny you?

“such a sweet girl…” he mutters, dipping his head back down to replace his fingers. 

“pretty girl…” he says against your clit, and it makes you blush and buck up into his mouth even more. 

he decides to get things moving again and slowly, softly, pushes his index finger into your hole that has been ignored so far. you clench immediately against the foreign sensation. 

“mmm…” you moan, and he has to whisper again, firmer, “relax.”

you focus on the consistency of his mouth on your clit, and before you know it, he has his finger in, all the way up to the knuckle, and he's curling it slowly inside you. you shiver, and have to bite the palm of your hand to keep yourself from waking up the whole motel. he’s picking up the pace now, pumping steadily in and out of your pussy, and oh god, you can hear it. you’re so wet you can hear the obscene sounds coming from just his one finger inside of you. apparently he can too, and he moans around your clit and adds another finger. you breathe a shuddering gasp at the delicious stretch, and you know it won’t be long now. 

“fox… fox!” you whine, the hand in his hair pulling him away from your clit. he knows immediately. he knows what you need.

with his fingers still steadily pumping, he rises up so he’s eye level with you again and settles his head in the crook of your neck. your hand in his hair makes a tight fist as you feel him so deeply inside you, hitting spots you didn’t even know you had. it makes you feel so connected to him, closer than you ever had been. 

he presses a soft kiss to your neck and begins to unravel you.

“my sweet, smart girl,” he praises, “you’re doing so good; you're taking it so well. such a brave, strong girl you are for me.” 

you whine pathetically, and this thumb comes up to rub your clit once more. 

“fox…”

“yes, baby, i know… i feel you around my fingers. do you like how my fingers feel so deep inside you? you’re so full, aren’t you?”

“oh my god,” you grit through clenched teeth, and with every stroke you clench harder and your stomach tenses more. 

“fox i’m-”

“yes, baby, yes… let go for me,” he croons, kissing your ear and licking your neck. 

feeling you near your end, he speeds up his fingers, now pumping in and out at a faster, rougher pace to push you over the edge. 

and push you, he does.

with a final command, “come, baby,” you clench so hard around his fingers that he can’t even fuck them into you anymore, so he just grinds his fingers up into that spot inside you over and over again. 

the orgasm you experience is almost religious. you tense for a long moment, no sound, no breath, no movement, just white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins and behind your eyelids. 

and then you go over the peak and let out a shuddering breath, a long string of barely intelligible expletives slurring out of your mouth. still feeling the pleasure continue. your hips are squirming and writhing, and fox has to hold your hips down again and force you to take it, to ride it out. 

at last, when you start whining from overstimulation, he withdraws his fingers from you and happily brings them to his mouth, licking up your arousal. 

the only thing you can physically do is lie there and pant, trying to get your breath back. all thoughts are gone from your brain. it's like a barren tundra, and it's so peaceful. fox comes up to lie on his side next to you, stroking your hair and trying to gauge if you’re okay. 

“my baby... are you okay? you did so good for me, honey,” he reassures, petting your hair. you hear him but can’t think of the words to respond or even how to speak for that matter, so you just nod pathetically, eyes still closed. this gives fox a little hope. 

“can you open your pretty eyes for me, baby? i’ve always loved your big brown eyes…” he coaxes. your eyes open one by one, slowly but surely, until you can just barely see fox through the blurriness. he rewards you with a sweet kiss to your lips. “thank you baby,” he says, smiling incredulously; your sanity coming back slowly, you give him a tiny, sleepy smile. he decides to ask again, “are you okay?” 

your smile widens giddily, and you nod again. “yeah…” you breathe, and sink deeper into the pillows. 

he laughs now too. “i guess i did my job pretty well,” he jokes and softly tweaks your nose with his clean hand. you scrunch your nose up, laughing at him. you want to try to explain yourself to him, although words are still hard to come by. you try anyway.

“i feel… like,” you pause to laugh again, “i feel so warm and fuzzy,” you giggle some more, feeling giddy and childish.

he giggles again too. “are you sure it wasn’t too much? not too intense?” he asks softly.

you shake your head and furrow your brows, “no, it was… i don’t even remember what i was upset about. i just feel happy. and sleepy,” you add, trying to explain how the experience made you feel. 

“and i’ve just never felt so… loved,” you confess quietly, nervously watching his face to gauge his reaction. you see him decide what he wants to say.

“well, that’s probably because i love you,” he says in such a casual, offhand, mulder way that all you can do is laugh.

you bring him down to kiss him, still giggling, and he obliges eagerly, keeping it gentle and sweet in the afterglow. 

“that would make sense,” you smile and ruffle his now dried hair between your fingers; he leans into it like a puppy would and looks at you so adoringly that your heart skips a beat. 

then, like a freight train, it hits you: what he really said and what you didn’t say. 

“oh!,” you exclaim. “i love you too, by the way,” and he throws his head back in full-blown belly laughter. there are no worries here for this fleeting moment. tomorrow there will be more dead bodies and more suspects and more x-files, but you will work your way through them together.