Chapter Text
We've been travelling for three days. Three fucking days.
Our flight had been cancelled last minute. In fact all flights had been cancelled. Due to an unpredictable incoming storm, there would be no flights to our particular destination of bumfuck nowhere for the next five days at least, so we're driving.
To start with it wasn't so bad, in fact I was quite enjoying spending time alone, just Scully and myself.
Now though, it's becoming unbearable. Un-fucking-bearable.
I have a problem.
Usually I will…….. relieve myself, so to speak, every night. Every so often when I don't have the time, it's a little longer. I mean, it's not an obsession by any means, just a way to relieve the tension. When we set off three days ago, I'd been rushed, had only just got back from a five day excursion, where I nearly got myself killed I might add, so, already I was at a stage of seriously high tension, but now, another three days on, it really is un fucking bearable.
I don't remember a time when I've gone more than a week before. A whole fucking week. And being sat in a car so close to Scully, so alone with Scully, is really not helping matters.
I'm trying to occupy my mind with other thoughts, of anything else, but just a glance in her direction and my mind goes off on a tangent.
A dirty tangent.
The first time I thought about her in a sexual way, we'd just finished a particularly adrenaline fuelled case, chasing down the perpetrator together, and later that night when I was back in my apartment, it was playing over in my head. But instead of reliving it as it had actually happened, I pictured us kissing passionately after the threat had been neutralised.
The intense arousal that had gripped me, had shocked me to the core and before I knew it, I was pulling an erection from my pants and picturing us getting more heated, ripping each others clothes off and fucking against the wall.
For a long time after, I felt guilty for thinking of her in that way, promising myself it would never happen again, but a few weeks later when I just couldn't seem to finish, my mind had unconsciously gone to her, and suddenly I had no problems in reaching a climax.
For a while I battled with myself over what I was doing. I'd never felt ashamed of pleasuring myself before and so I analysed where the guilt was coming from. It was then that it dawned on me with a stunned clarity that it was because I didn't want to objectify the woman I loved.
It hit me hard. I loved her.
It stopped being sordid and dirty after that. I no longer saw it as me lusting after my female partner, it was actually something beautiful. I was simply picturing the woman I loved as I orgasmed.
She sighs beside me, making me glance over at her.
Bad idea.
She's stretching her neck, massaging it with her hand, the heat causing a bead of sweat to trickle down towards her pulse point.
I want to lick it off.
"Mulder!"
She's looking out of the front windscreen, a panicked look on her face, and a glance in that direction makes me realise I'm drifting away from the road.
I right the car, no harm done, but fuck I'm distracted. She's taken off her jacket and opened her blouse, pulling it away from her chest to cool her skin, and fuck me, it's more than I can stand.
"You're getting tired," she observes.
Oh, Scully, that really is not the case at all.
"You're not safe to drive like this," she adds, turning her head to me expectantly.
Well I can't argue with that assessment. I keep my eyes carefully on the road. If I look at her again, I might just lose it.
I can picture it all so clearly.
I imagine looking at her and losing my tenuous control, yanking up the handbrake, the car skidding to a stop. I see the unamused arching of her brow as she reprimands me on the importance of road safety.
I picture her confusion when I get out of the car, her gasp when I open her door and lift her from her seat, her moan when I bend her over the bonnet of the car, her whine when I hitch her skirt and rip her panties to the side, her gasp when I untuck myself from my boxers.
I imagine her parting her legs and arching her spine in invitation, her cry of pleasure as I…..
Fuck.
Taking some deep breaths, I try to regulate my breathing to something resembling a normal human being.
"Mulder?" She questions, sounding a little concerned.
"It's nothing," I say, my voice sounding strangely husky. "I'm good."
"Do you need me to take over? Drive for a while?"
Oh yeah, now that is a good idea, Scully. I like it.
I imagine her pulling up the handbrake. My own gasp of surprise as she climbs over to straddle me, hitching her skirt and pulling her panties to the side, unzipping me and pulling the raging hard on from my boxers, rubbing it through her arousal and poising it at her entrance. I imagine her head tipping back with a gasp, thrusting her breasts forwards as she……
A desperate whine escapes my throat, sweat beading on my forehead as I wipe it with the back of my hand.
"Mulder?" She's sounding more concerned by the second. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah," I squeak. I was trying for nonchalance, but it came out strained, voice now breaking like some randy teenager. Fabulous.
Her concern for my wellbeing sometimes threatens to overwhelm me. It's something I just never really experienced before I met her. I'd like to think it's because I'm special in some way, but it's just her nature to want to take care of everyone. She really is that amazing.
God, I wish she'd take care of something for me.
I imagine her slowly unzipping me as I drive, gently pulling my erection free from its restraints, lovingly bending her head to my lap, wrapping those sexy fucking lips around me, sliding all the way down with a moan…….
Fuck. I'm panting, sweat dripping down my neck.
Oh god, I need to do something about this. This is not ok.
"You don't look ok," she replies, unconvinced. "Pull over, Mulder."
Oh god yeah. Please.
"No," I snap.
"Mulder," she chastises. "Just do it."
Do what, Scully?
My cock twitches, a groan rumbling deep in my throat.
"Now," she demands.
I've got to admit, I like it when she gets all authouritive like this.
I imagine pulling the handbrake, skidding to a stop and looking at her with submissive expectance. Her getting out of the car and beckoning me out sternly. Her intense eye contact as she drags her panties off slowly and drops them to the floor, her hitching her skirt and sliding onto the car bonnet, spreading her legs wide and telling me to get on my knees, demanding that I make her come. I hear her hum of approval as I swipe my tongue between her legs, feel her grabbing my hair and holding my face there with a breathless, "good boy."
Fuck me, it's hot in this car. I tug on my tie, wipe more sweat from my brow.
"I'm fine," I bark. Or at least, I try to.
"You are not fine," she replies. "You need a break."
No, actually. What I need is to come.
"I need a restroom," I announce, suddenly deciding. I don't care how filthy it makes me, jacking off in a public restroom, I have got to do something about this. If I don't, I'm going to end up embarrassing myself by making a hot sticky mess of my boxers like the horny teenager my vocal chords are convinced I am, while I sit inches away from her intense scrutiny.
"Fine," she agrees, in a 'no arguments' tone. "But you'll pull over and let me take over until we get there."
Desperately, and yes I admit, somewhat childishly, I put my foot down on the accelerator, in protest. If I pull over, I'll have to look at her and then my mind is going to explode. My mind or my cock, one or the other. Possibly both. I'm also more than a little concerned that I'd do something stupid, like make a move on her.
"Don't think I won't pull the handbrake," she warns darkly, her voice low and dangerous, and oh so fucking sexy.
A strangled groan bursts from my throat.
Fuck yeah. Do it, Scully, do it. Pull the handbrake, and drag me into the back seat, tell me I'm a bad, bad boy that needs to be taught a lesson.
Shit, I need to get a fucking grip of myself.
Oh, if only.
I imagine pulling myself free from my boxers, gripping myself firmly, her gasping appreciatively as I start to stroke myself, reaching her own hand up her skirt with a moan….
Fucking hell. Giving my tie another tug, I breathe deeply, focus on slowing the car, on trying to relax my shoulders.
I'm amazed and a little proud of how steady the car comes to a halt. It's ok, I'm in control.
I'm in control.
I imagine telling her just that, ordering her from the car, telling her in no uncertain terms that she's going to do as she's told. I imagine her gasp of arousal as she strips for me, her pleading whine as she gets down on all fours and arches her back. Her arousal dripping from her when I pull myself free and tell her she's going to take my cock like a good girl.
I'm breathing hard again, and I can't look at her, I can't. I'll get myself shot, punched at the very least.
Shit, she's reaching her hand out, she's going to check my temperature. Yanking the door handle, I practically throw myself out of the car, slamming the door behind me and slumping back against it, desperately trying to get myself under some semblance of control.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Picture an expense meeting, a team building seminar, anything that isn't Scully.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Team building seminar, that'll work. They really are a special kind of hell, those things. I'm so glad I managed to wangle my way out of that last one, ending up chasing mothmen instead. Even getting attacked by one was preferable to having to attend. Scully pulling me to her lap afterwards was definitely preferable. She'd even made that comment about it raining sleeping bags. What I wouldn't have given for that to have happened. We could have crawled in together, completely naked, our bodies squished together like…..
Shit, this is not working.
And double shit, she's walking around the car in my direction.
"Mulder, just let me….."
I don't hear what she wants me to just let her do because I'm turned away and walking in the opposite direction.
My mind tries to finish her sentence with dirty words and I screw my eyes shut, worryingly close to banging my head against the car just as an outlet for my frustration.
"Mulder!" She barks at me.
I'm now a little safer on the opposite side of the car to her, so I turn my body towards her, but keep my eyes carefully on the roof of the car, still not convinced I won't dive over the top of it straight at her if I look directly at her.
"I'm fine," I croak, as firmly as I can. "I just really need a bathroom."
"Right," she replies with more than a hint of frustrated sarcasm. "Get in the car."
Breathing a sigh of relief that she's not going to press the matter, I get into the passenger seat, angling my shoulders away from her and looking out of the window to the side of me.
I guess it was a good idea to stop driving, now I can turn away properly and not see her in my peripheral vision. I might be able to calm myself down a bit better now.
Her sigh as she adjusts the seat and mirrors before setting off goes straight to my groin though and I pray to a god I don't believe in that I'll make it to the services without making a complete idiot out of myself.
*****
This is just a little bit torturous. We've been driving for days and to start with it wasn't so bad, but the tension in the car has been rising rapidly these past few hours.
Mulder has all but stopped talking to me now, any effort on my part to strike up conversation has fallen flat, getting one word answers when I'm lucky.
To make matters worse, it's humid, the heat is stifling, and Mulder has rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, my eyes being constantly drawn to his forearms tensing as he grips the wheel with much more force than is necessary.
I wonder if he has any idea what he does to me? Surely he must be aware of how gorgeous he is.
I know he can't feel the same about me, he can hardly bear to look at me at this point. I guess being in such close proximity to just one person for so long will do that though.
Then why am I not sick of the sight of him as well?
It's an uncomfortable thought, so I banish it before I can start to dwell on it.
With a heavy sigh, I try to massage the stiffness from my neck, then panic when I see the car drifting from the road.
"Mulder!" I warn.
He has to be tired by now, obviously losing concentration and starting to fall asleep as he drives. I tell him as much, giving him a glare to let him know he should stop the car. Of course, he's not looking at me to see it.
Instead of bringing the car to a halt, or even acknowledging that I've spoken for that matter, his hands grip the wheel tighter, causing me once again to unashamedly admire those beautiful tanned forearms as they flex.
I watch as his respiration rate slowly increases, until he's breathing hard and fast, and feel guilty as my body responds by flushing.
Shoving my unpartnerly reaction deep down, I ask him if he wants me to take over, as I try to work out how many hours he's been driving. I'm sure it's coming up to twelve now.
I have to wonder what the hell is wrong with me when he whines and I find it the sexiest noise I think I've ever heard.
And Jesus, he's flexing his forearms again.
He's obviously uncomfortable and I'm fawning over him, it's ridiculous. So shoving my highly inappropriate thoughts deep down, I ask him if he's ok.
He says he is, but he certainly doesn't look it, he's literally panting, so I tell him as much, adding that he should pull over.
He refuses and I want to simultaneously slap him and lick the trickle of sweat that's making its way down his neck.
"Just do it," I tell him.
He groans, and fuck it sounds sexual. I'm going to start panting myself for an entirely different reason if I don't get a grip.
I can't help it, I imagine him pulling over, his forearms flexing as he drags me from my seat and plants me on his lap, his lips hot on my neck as he hitches my skirt up and pulls his erection free from his boxers. I feel his breath on me as that sexy whine gets trapped in his throat, feel his erection hot and hard, pressing at my entrance, begging for entry. I imagine lifting myself on my knees and lining him up, sliding down with a gasp….
Shit, I need to stop this.
Getting angry with myself for thinking of him sexually while he's suffering, fantasising about things that will never happen, I snap at him, demanding he stop now.
"I'm fine," he rasps.
Why? Why does he have to sound so goddamn sexy? It's hugely unfair. Not to mention massively distracting.
"You are not fine," I reply testily. "You need a break."
"I need a restroom," he announces oddly, as though it's an idea that he agrees with wholeheartedly but that has just this second presented itself to him.
I agree, telling him in no uncertain terms that I will take over until we find one, again getting annoyed at myself for wanting to swoon over him, his voice, his arms, his respiration rate, the sweat on his brow and his neck, literally everything about him right now is turning me on and it's frustrating as hell.
To annoy me even more, he puts his foot down on the accelerator and I want to explode at him. I also want to drag him into the backseat and rip all his clothes off him, bite his neck and then kiss it better, straddle him and ride him hard.
I need to calm down.
"Don't think I won't pull the handbrake," I try to warn, but my voice comes out low and aroused, and I can only hope he doesn't notice.
A strangled groan sounds out of his throat, as he tugs on his tie.
It should be against FBI regulations to work with someone as hot as Mulder. He should never have been allowed to join in the first place. Maybe that's why they stuck him in the basement out of the way, fearing that other agents wouldn't ever get anything done if he was within eyesight.
I mean Jesus, he just oozes sexuality. It just shouldn't be allowed.
I imagine pulling the handbrake, and him getting angry, shouting at me for doing something so dangerous. I picture a heated argument, him getting out of the car and me following, angry that he's walking away. I see the dangerous warning in his eyes as he tells me to back off, the warning that I ignore and carry on pushing until he loses his cool and kisses me passionately, leaning heavily into me until I'm lay back over the bonnet of the car. I imagine freeing his erection from his pants as he hitches my skirt and rips my panties off, feel the intense pleasure when he pushes roughly inside me with a grunt….
Holy hell, it's hot in this car.
I've not been paying attention, because he has brought the car to a stop and I hadn't noticed.
He is practically panting, gripping the wheel tight again, and I feel another stab of guilt that I've been letting my thoughts wander while he struggles like this.
I want to check his temperature, but as I reach out, he rushes from the car, slamming the door behind him and slumping back onto it.
I can't help but worry now, as my brain starts to supply all the serious conditions he could be suffering with, so I get out and make my way round the car to him.
"Mulder, just let me check your temperature," I say, voice surprisingly steady, but he spins around and walks away, moving to the other side of the car.
What the hell is wrong with him? Can he really not stand the sight of me that much?
He tells me he's fine and that he just need a bathroom, so I give up, promising myself that I'll keep a close eye on him until we get there.
Even through my concern, it takes everything I have to keep any inappropriate thoughts of him from my head and I hope it doesn't take too long to find a rest stop. Maybe a short break from being in such close proximity to each other will help us both.