The Small Hours
By: afg
Homepage: www.ofnoconsequence.com
Rating: R
Category: MSR
Spoilers: Post 'Truth'
Thanks: To Tali.
Disclaimer: Not mine and no money is being made.
Summary: Watching without looking.
Feedback: Any comments to siggy.63@btinternet.com
Written for Fando's Voyeur Challenge.

I feel him come to full wakefulness; the muscles in his chest 
tightening under my cheek. For someone who likes to present 
a persona of casual nonchalance, Mulder, is really quite a 
tense person. His body, so used to hurt, both physical and 
emotional, never truly relaxes, but when we are together, like 
this, he comes close. I think I like these hours before the 
dawn best of all. It's a time when we can just be. No running 
or hiding or lying. No endless, dusty roads or seedy diners. 
No crappy jobs cleaning tables or mopping floors.      
Just Mulder, the quiet dark and me.

His nose nuzzles my hair and he breathes me in, his ribs 
expand under me. Taking the opportunity I touch him, 
running my hands over his stomach, which twitches as I 
circle his navel, the soft hairs tickling the tips of my fingers 
making them tingle. I kiss his chest and his smell envelopes 
me, male and earthy after a long day. I don't care, it's Mulder 
without the trappings of privilege, unadorned by false scents, 
and he's beautiful. His hand smoothes over my back and 
down to my behind. I rise up on my elbows, suddenly 
needing to kiss him. The room is very nearly pitch black, but 
I don't need light to see. My hands run over his face, his 
broad forehead with its wrinkles deeply inset into his skin. 
His hair is longer than I've ever seen it and my fingers 
smooth it away at the temples, feeling the almost delicate 
bone ridges there. Then, down to his eyes, which have 
opened, his eyelashes brushing against my fingertips. 
Caressing the laughter lines at the corners, I know he is 
smiling as they crinkle under my touch. My fingers continue 
their exploration running down his nose with its little bumps 
in the places where it's been broken. I reach his lips, soft and 
pliant as they kiss my fingers. My hands move to caress his 
jaw, with its soft beard that I've come to love and at last my 
lips touch his and I'm immersed in the tastes and textures of 
his mouth; bitter from too many cups of bad coffee and sweet 
from the bag of popcorn he'd munched his way through 
earlier while trying to watch a Redskins game through the 
fuzz of the battered old TV in our equally battered room. 

Mulder's hands hold my head, I can feel his long fingers 
stroking through my hair and pressing me deeper into the 
kiss. His mouth, warm and moist, his tongue, never still, 
entwining itself around mine so that I never want to leave. 
I've never been kissed quite the way Mulder does it. It's all 
restrained power and gentle ferocity. Wild yet safe, it's the 
way he is expressed in a physical action. I stretch my body 
over his wanting to feel as much of his skin against mine as 
possible. The world spins as he rolls us over so that he covers 
me, his chest hair rubbing against my breasts. My hands run 
over his back, over the clipped wings of his shoulder blades 
and along the strong muscles on either side of his spine, 
down to his ass with its downy fuzz and firm flesh. Moving 
to the sharp ridges of his hips bones, I encourage him to fall 
into the cradle of my thighs.

His mouth leaves mine to nip and lick at my throat, his hot 
breath making me shudder. Mulder puts his lips to my ear 
and he begins to whisper to me. Mulder talks a lot and when 
we make love, he tells me all sorts of things, from odd facts 
and historical anecdotes to how I'm making him feel and 
what he wants to do to me. I, on the other hand, am not a 
particularly talkative person and even less so when having 
sex, but I love to hear his voice, husky and low from passion, 
telling me something stupid about giant squid or Mongolian 
ape men.

He rises up on his hands above me, and my hands journey 
down over the crests and valleys of his ribs, over the bunched 
muscles of his abdomen, through the crisp curls of his pubic 
hair to the hard length of him. He feels so warm and silky as I 
guide him to me and I feel every inch of him as he pushes 
slowly into my body and I lose the ability to distinguish one 
sensation from another as they all meld together in a 
cacophony of taste and touch, smell and sound. Mulder sinks 
back down to his elbows and he softly talks to me between 
his gasps and sighs, telling me that we'll be all right that he 
loves me and that there is nothing better than this, and, 
caught up in the moment, I believe him.

Sweat makes our bodies glide smoothly against each other. 
My eyes sting with the drops of moisture falling from 
Mulder's brow as he, once again, puts his mouth to mine. 
Breathing into me so that I know nothing but him, feel 
nothing but his body surrounding me, inside of me. Hear 
nothing but his voice soothing me. His movements become 
less controlled as he starts to lose himself, he's whispering 
my name over and over and then he stops, and I can feel 
every muscle in his body clench.  I hear his teeth grinding 
together as his jaw clamps shut and then the heat of his 
breath washing over my neck as he exhales in sweet release, 
and the even hotter rush of his seed as he spills himself inside 
me. Then, I know nothing but the cascading joy of my own 
release as it sweeps through my body.

We lie together side by side, our noses almost touching, 
panting, as our bodies cool.  I run my fingers over his sweaty 
brow, brushing the hair off his forehead. He kisses the tip of 
my nose and slips and arm around my waist, and takes my 
hand in his and holds it to his chest by his heart. I feel it 
thumping against the back of my hand. After a little while it 
slows down along with his breathing, and I feel him relax 
into sleep. I listen to his gentle snores and immerse myself in 
the scents around me. We smell like sex, tangy and warm and 
I don't want to face another day of boredom shot through 
with jolts of apprehension. I just want to stay here in these 
small hours with Mulder, safe and close, but already the 
dawn denies me and I see his face, tinted blue, in the cold, 
early light. His lips slightly parted. There is no rest for us, 
only these brief respites, but for all that, this life with him is 
infinitely preferable to a safe existence without him. There is 
no choice for me, there never has been. 

The end