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She can feel the tension between them, a steady thrum which has been there since the day she stepped into the basement office. Now, crammed in the aisle between two rows of outdated books, she’s trying to find a textbook from university which would prove useful to their latest case. Mulder is hovering behind her, his attempt to explain his latest paranormal guess falling deaf to her ears as the want inside her grows.
His hands skim past her before awkwardly landing on the shelf beside her head as she scans the books in front of her. The thrum inside her is intensifying, making her feel like the pent up teenager who would kiss boys behind the bleachers. Biting her lip, she turns around to face Mulder. Looking up through her lashes, she finds him staring down at her, his eyes drifting between her eyes and lips, wanting clearly battling concern. They can worry about what after means later, Scully decides.
“Mulder,” she whispers, his name falling softly out of her lips. Before she knows what she’s doing, his tie is crushed between her fingers and his lips are on hers. The kiss is bruising, finally a release to this unspoken desire between them. His hand finds its way to the back of her neck, as his other hand cups her jaw, stroking it gently with the pad of his thumb. A soft gasp comes out her mouth, an involuntary reaction to the softness of his hand. It’s an invitation.
Next thing she knows she is pressed up against the bookshelf, the spines of scientists’ life works digging into her spine. His mouth licks into hers, pulling a moan from the back of her throat, and landing straight between her thighs in a throb. Her hand drifts from his tie, one slipping between his blazer and shirt, feeling the sculpted muscles of his back and the other grazing through his soft hair. She could touch him forever, she thinks. She feels his breathing hitch from the touch of her hands and it's enough to spur her on. She kisses back with vigour, she needs more of him, for no amount would ever be enough, his tongue slowly drowning out all thoughts but the word Mulder.
His hand on her jaw has drifted down, resting loosely on her throat. The slight pressure is enough for her to involuntarily rut her hips forward as a moan escapes her. The tension is pooling between her legs and she knows her new pair of tights is already ruined. The warmth of his breath on her as he pulls away, the knowledge that it is his taste lingering inside her mouth is too much. She leans up to kiss him again, his tongue already seeking hers, a beacon in the night. Mindless to her actions, her hips thrust up, only to meet something warm and hard, desperately awaiting freedom from his now tented suit pants.
“Scully…” Mulder hisses, panting as he pulls away to paw at her hips, trying to bring them closer together for just a moment of relief. He thinks to himself, I could get off like this, just like a sixteen year old boy, she has no clue what she does to me, as she thrusts back up onto him. Their tongues rolling around, hips pressed together and hands roaming as if no amount of touching will save them from their previous deprivation. Her hand, the one not taking up residency in his hair, is now at the front of his shirt, trying desperately to break past the confines of the material, aching to feel the softness of his skin.
A loud cough startles them apart, just as her fingers have started to snake onto his abs. They disentangle slowly, their chests heaving as they try to get their breathing under control before turning towards the sound. There at the end of the aisle is an old lady, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, as she glares disapprovingly at the two.
Mulder clears his throat, the words getting stuck.
“I… um.. Was trying to find her this book I thought she’d like.” It’s not convincing.
The librarian is not impressed, there’s no denying what she walked in on.
“30 seconds, and you’re out,” she says, her face stern. The two FBI agents nod wordlessly back at her, both already beginning to tuck themselves into line, donning their armour once again. Seeing this, the librarian stalks out the aisle, allowing the pair to exhale in relief.
With a flush coating her cheeks, she reaches up to try to flatten his hair. There’s no saving the fluffy mess as a strand curls down onto his forehead. He reaches out and flicks her collar back into place.
“Sorry Mulder, I guess I got carried away.” A chuckle falls out of his lips, if she got carried away then god knows he nearly got swept out to sea.
They walk out of the aisle, the glare of the librarian still on their backs. As they step out, his palm returns to its place on her back, steady and sure, and she knows, despite the desperate throb between her legs, that they’ll be okay, no matter what.
Back in the library, the old lady laughs quietly to herself. It’s not the first time, and certainly won’t be the last time, that she’s caught love blossoming between her shelves. At least she has something to tell the girls at bingo tonight.