So I’ve seen a bunch of super random text posts on my dash lately that end up with the tag Mulder, the tags were so accurate it inspired this silliness.
You lay against Mulder, breath ragged. The two of you inadvertently getting wine drunk at dinner tonight, leading to what you’re sure will be a morning filled with embarrassment when flashes of you and Mulder in the backseat of a cab flood your brain.
You’d barley made it into the door of his apartment before relieving him of his pants, the need for him inside you making you feral, unyielding.
You curl around him, the both of you in states of half undress, your skin slick with sweat and his saliva.
“You know that was one of my fantasy’s Scully, fucking you up against my front door. It was even better than I imagined.”
The two of you sink horizontal across the floor, your head nestled in the crook of his neck, the overwhelming need to shut your eyes rushing over you.
“Happy to help Mulder.” You slur out as you drape his arm across your abdomen. You feel yourself drifting towards unconsciousness on a sea of Cabernet and Mulder’s cock when his voice pulls you back.
“Yeah Mulder?” You mumble against his skin.
“If we ever found Bigfoot… do you think… do you think he would like me? Do you think we’d be friends?”
“Really Mulder?” You huff out exasperated.
“Yeah Scully really.”
You feel his fingertips settle over your hipbone and you can’t help yourself, you love this drunken idiot.
“Of course I think you’d be friends Mulder, who wouldn’t love you?”
“Yeah, I think you’re right Scully.” The words fall out of his mouth like spilled cereal before soft snores escape his throat.
“God I fell in love with a moron.” You whisper as sleep carries you away.