Her Son - Denouement (NC-17)


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He watched from a little distance as she fed the baby.  Getting any closer would be detrimental.  He wanted her so badly his teeth ached and Will looked like he'd be up for hours.  By the time they did get to bed, he'd probably come from a sideways glance.  Great way to make an impression and live up to Diana's description, be a less-than-a-minute-man.  Shit.


He couldn't settle down, but did offer to clean up after dinner.  He had to do something, though he'd prefer cold water to hot right now.  Maybe he should take care of himself now, then he might have a little staying power, maybe.


She finally looked like she was heading up to get Will ready for bed.  He did love his son, but tonight . . . "Uh, I think I'll take a shower," he said.  "Never got around to it this morning."


"Oh, sure."  Was she avoiding looking at him?  Damn.


The shower did help, at least he had essence of Fowley off of him now.  He pulled on those pajamas pants with the small gray check and stepped out into the bedroom.  She wasn't there.


He stepped out to the head of the stairs, but he couldn't hear anything downstairs.  Turning toward the nursery he found her in the dark, holding the baby in her arms as she rocked gently.  His body blocked most of the light from the hall, but he could see them, love them.


"Is he asleep?" Mulder asked in a low voice.


She nodded and Mulder took him in his arms, cuddling him for a moment, before kissing his forehead and placing him in the crib.  Will rolled to his side as one hand found Mudder Air and he was deep asleep again.


Mulder turned to her and held out his hand.  She took it and rose from the rocking chair.  She had changed as well, he realized, wearing a simple cotton nightgown of the palest blue.  Her curves, and her blush, made it the sexist thing he could remember seeing.  He led her to their bedroom and turned to her once they were inside.


"This hasn't exactly been a 'normal' courtship."


"No," she agreed.  "None of my other dates has ever pulled a gun on me," she said lightly.


"Dana, I'm so sor- "


She touched her fingers to his lips.  "You were right to do it.  If I'd made a call then, I would have destroyed everything."  He didn't look completely convinced, so she rose up on bare toes, taking his face in her hands and kissed his lips softly.  His hands had encircled her waist, resting lightly on her hips.  They tightened now and he was kissing her again.  She didn't even realize they were moving until the backs of her legs pressed into the mattress.


"I want you," his voice was low and she shivered from the sound.  Without warning she drew the nightgown over her head and stood before him nude.  He sank onto the bed, sitting, staring at her.  Her breasts were full and firm, her waist tiny, and the hips where his hands had rested were in perfect proportion.  He cupped her breasts in his hands and leaned forward to kiss one nipple then the other, drawing her closer.  He lowered his head to dip his tongue in her navel.  He wanted to taste all of her and he would, if not tonight, then soon.  There was so much he wanted to explore.


She was having trouble drawing a full breath, her hands tangled in his hair.  He lowered himself back onto the bed, drawing her with him.  She laughed out loud, and he grinned, watching her.  He slowly pushed her body down the front of his and pressed her body against that part of him that was straining to join with her.  Damn, she'd been impressed at the mornings, but this . . .


He rolled then, pinning her body beneath his.   He propped himself up on his elbows, "It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?"


She nodded, unable to speak.  He undid the snap at his waistband and kicked the pants off, then slid a finger through her warm, moist folds.   He was delighted to find her wet and ready for him.  He slowly licked his finger, savoring her taste as she watched him, eyes wide.  Then he slid a finger into her core, finger fucking her lightly.  After a moment a second finger joined the play and then a third.  And God, his thumb was doing something too.  She moaned at the overload, it had been a long time, and he knew exactly what he was doing.  Then without warning her orgasm swept over her, pulling her under as she gasped.  Her fingers gripped his shoulders searching for stability, she really was seeing stars.


As she came, he withdrew his fingers and thrust himself into her.  She arched to meet him, drawing him even deeper though she hadn't realized that was even possible.  Her eyes widened.  He filled and overfilled her, stretching her, possessing her.  Good God!  He slowly withdrew only to thrust back as she whimpered at the loss of him.  Then she was meeting him, finding their rhythm together.


No one had ever made love to her like this; his mouth captured her as his cock demanded her body.  His tongue explored her mouth, owning her.


He thrust again, and she moaned caught between pleasure and pain.  She wanted this, wanted him but never in her wildest dreams . . . he thrust again and again and she met him with equal ardor, joining as him as never before.  Who cared if she never walked again.


She felt his balls contract and then he gasped out her name as he filled her with his warmth.  And then she was coming again.  Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew no man had ever done this for her before, but coherent words were beyond her.


After forever he collapsed, rolling to the side and pulling her on top of him.  He heard her whimper as he slid out of her.


"I love you," he whispered and she looked up at him.  They fell asleep in mid-kiss.




She had a routine.  She always did the restroom first so she could prop the door open and let it air out a little while she picked up the trash left behind by the bus passengers.  Did these people leave this much trash in their own damn cars? 


She spotted the small black purse between the seat and the window and pulled it out.  There was a wallet with a driver's license, one credit card and forty-seven dollars in cash.  Diana Fowley.  How did a woman forget her purse?  There was no indication of her destination, so no telling where she might have gotten off.   Oh well, she'd turn it into the lost and found.  The woman would realize she was missing it soon enough.





Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunmen and Skinner all belong to Chris, 10-13 and Fox Bless them for it!! No infringement intended.