Title: The Magic Number

Author: mimic117

Email: mimic1172@gmail.com

Rating: NC-17 all the way

Keywords: Established MSR

Spoilers: Let's assume that Seasons 8 & 9 never happened 
and that this story takes place a number of years after Season 
7. Five years after should do it. By that point, I figure 
they'd at least be living together but still working at the 
Bureau. 

Summary: No one ever warned him about women over forty.

Dedication: To every woman over forty but especially to 
Donnilee, who isn't *quite* there yet. Just a little peek at 
what's ahead. Happy Birthday, dear.

Beta thanks: To my untiring Twinsy, for her constant 
dedication to making me a better writer in spite of myself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Magic Number
by mimic117


Mulder fell back onto the mattress, winded and sweaty, shaking 
in every limb. Scully continued to ride him, panting and 
grinding down onto his groin. He groaned as her inner muscles 
squeezed his softening penis while she fingered her clit, 
reaching for that last pinnacle of pleasure.

She was trying to kill him with sex. He just knew it. Not a bad 
way to go, but he wasn't quite ready to check out yet. They'd 
been together, romantically speaking, for five years, over three 
of those years living in their own apartment. They'd been the 
best years of his life and he really didn't want to miss the next 
five, but he was going to have a heart attack or die of 
exhaustion if she kept up this pace. 

Death by orgasm. Wouldn't *that* look spiffy on his autopsy 
report?

It wasn't that he disliked sex. Quite the contrary, in fact. He 
was just finding it hard to keep up with Scully lately. 

Take earlier in the day, for instance. All he did was nuzzle the 
side of her neck, and the next thing he knew, she'd stripped 
him stark as a jay bird and dragged him on top of her. Right in 
the middle of the living room floor! 

She was like a wild animal, moaning and writhing on the carpet 
as he tried to get into position between her legs. She'd 
actually snarled at him to hurry up! 

Talk about performance pressure. 

Then, once he was finally inside her, she bucked and humped 
like she was competing against the Guinness record for 
quickest sex act. He couldn't seem to move fast enough for 
her. At least he made her come. He wasn't sure he'd be able 
to, considering how insatiable she'd been recently.

Like last night. 

He'd been a little later than usual, but not all *that* late. 
When he let himself in, the lights were off and she was nowhere 
in sight. 

"Hey, Scully. Where are you?" he called. 

The door swung shut behind him. "Right here." Her voice 
came from over his shoulder, low, raspy. It made his scalp 
tingle.

When he turned, he saw that she was naked. As she moved 
nearer, he could actually smell her desire. 

Everything sped up at that point and he didn't remember a lot 
of it clearly. He did remember thinking that it's not easy to 
kneel on the arm of a sofa and obtain enough leverage to fuck 
at the same time. 

They weren't making love anymore, they were fucking. The 
faster and harder the better, as far as Scully was concerned. 
On the floor, on the table, under the table, on the couch -- they 
hadn't done it in the apartment building elevator yet, but Mulder 
had a feeling it was only a question of time. 

He was tempted to find a copy of the Kama Sutra and see if 
there were any positions they'd missed. Missionary, doggie-
style, standing, sitting, her on top, him on top, it didn't 
matter. Scully seemed to enjoy whatever they did, judging by 
the way she cried out when she came. 

He liked it, too, but last night had been hell on his knees. 
They were still hurting.

It wasn't the sex that concerned him so much as the frequency 
and level of enthusiasm. They'd had fast, hard sex three times 
in the last twenty-four hours, not to mention once a day for the 
past few months. Minimum. 

She was definitely trying to kill him. 

Scully flopped down onto his chest and he slipped out of her. 
She sighed. He would have sighed as well but he was too 
tired. He smiled as she littered his chest with kisses. 

She bit his nipple and he jumped.

"Jesus!" he yelped. "Give me a few minutes, woman. I'm not 
as young as I used to be and I'm getting older by the second."

She pushed herself up on his chest until he could look into her 
eyes. She was smirking. "Can't dish it out like you used to, 
huh?"

He pinched her ass. "I can dish it out just fine but I could 
use a little time to cook up something new between helpings. 
What's gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?" She looked puzzled. 

Didn't she realize how she'd been behaving?

"I *mean*," he replied, "your gargantuan appetite for sex. Has 
someone been putting Spanish Fly in the coffee machines?"

She scowled. "Are you saying that you don't want sex?"

"NO! I'm not saying anything of the sort. I'm just wondering 
why, after years of living together, you suddenly can't get 
enough of me. I'm flattered, but confused. What do I have now 
that I didn't have then?"

Her scowl disappeared but she still looked peeved. "It's 
probably hormonal. I *am* over forty now."

"Is that the magic number? You turn forty and someone flips 
the nookie switch?"

"Am I coercing you?"

"No, but -- "

"Are you not interested?"

"No, but -- "

"Don't you enjoy it?"

"Yes, but -- "

The scowl was back. "I don't know what you're complaining 
about, Mulder. You can refuse if you don't want sex. Don't feel 
obligated just because I'm horny." Her voice sounded hurt, and 
he honestly couldn't blame her. He hadn't handled it well at all 
and now he couldn't think of anything to say.

She rolled off of him and stalked to the bathroom. As a general 
rule, he loved watching her naked ass twitch and jiggle as she 
moved away. At the moment, though, her cheeks looked hard 
and unyielding; they didn't jiggle at all as she stomped off. 

Even her ass was annoyed with him.

It wasn't that he didn't like having sex. How could he NOT love 
sex, any kind of sex, with Scully? He just needed more than a 
couple of hours to recover before hitting the sheets again. 
After all, HE was over forty, too. He hadn't done a very good 
job of explaining himself, but Mulder wasn't sure he understood 
what he meant to say either.

The next day at work, Mulder was too preoccupied to get 
anything done, which gave him plenty of time to think, but that 
was okay -- Scully wasn't speaking to him unless she 
absolutely had to anyway. There'd been no before-work sex. 
Barely a good morning kiss. Apparently she hadn't appreciated 
his questions, but he'd really wanted to know. He kept trying to 
imagine what else he could have said other than "slow down." 

He sat up straight and looked over at Scully, her lips pursed 
into an angry line, silently pounding on her keyboard. 

Was that it? Did they simply need to slow down? 

An idea tickled at the edges of his brain and he checked his 
watch. Not quite two. He could do it if he left right away. 
She probably wouldn't mind being relieved of his presence for a 
while and he could use a breather from the frostier-than-usual 
office atmosphere. 

He clearer his throat. Loudly. Scully's shoulders twitched, as 
if she wanted to turn and look at him, but she didn't move. 

"I have to leave for a bit," he said casually. "You take the car 
and I'll meet you at home. Okay?" 

She shrugged. "Sure. Fine."

Boy, she really *was* mad. She'd forgotten "whatever." 

Mulder gathered up his briefcase and coat. He wanted to kiss 
her good-bye but that might be dangerous considering her 
present mood. Instead, he murmured a farewell and went out 
to find a cab. He had a couple stops to make before he 
headed home. 

He asked the cabby to pull over at the first florist he saw. 
Mulder wasn't a big flowers guy, which suited Scully just fine. 
She would rather have a nice houseplant because they didn't 
die after a few days. But when you were as deep in dog shit as 
he was at the moment, cut flowers were a must. Just a few. 
Nothing too ostentatious or pricey. He didn't need her getting 
on his case about being extravagant. 

Inside the shop, a bunch of mixed flowers caught his eye. Very 
colorful. She'd like those. Now where could he find some 
good-quality chocolates? 

The cab driver proved to be a fount of information, but most of 
his suggestions were in the opposite direction from the 
apartment. What a surprise. They finally settled on a gift store 
that sold Godiva and Mulder bought half a dozen chocolate 
enrobed strawberries. They were completely covered instead 
of dipped at one end. He thought that would be unusual 
enough to appeal to Scully without getting her started on the fat 
and calories. 

The gift shop also sold massage oils.

By the time he made it home, he had just enough time to 
shower, call in a carry-out order to an Italian restaurant, change 
the bed sheets to her favorite set and stick a bottle of wine in 
the fridge to chill. The flowers were in a vase on her 
nightstand, next to the plate of chocolate strawberries, when he 
heard her key rattle in the lock.

He checked the time. Not quite five. She'd skipped out early, 
too. 

The scowl was gone, thank goodness, but she looked a bit 
wary as she took in his clean dress shirt and slacks. 

"Are we going somewhere?" she asked. 

"*I'm* going to pick up dinner," Mulder replied as he grabbed 
his keys. "You're going to relax and get comfortable." He 
pecked a quick kiss on her lips in passing. "I'll be right back." 

The door closed behind him and he smiled as he walked to the 
elevator. Let her think about that until he returned.

The shower was running when he got back. Good. Hopefully 
that would take the edge off her annoyance. They hadn't been 
together very long before he'd learned that it was best to give 
Scully some space when he pissed her off. Hanging around 
and trying to work things out just made it worse. That particular 
discovery had saved him many an ass-chewing over the years.

He served the veal parmegiana, salad and garlic bread onto 
plates and took them out to the table. By the time he'd 
uncorked the wine and grabbed two glasses, Scully was sitting 
in her chair, waiting. 

She'd matched his casually-dressy look with a soft sweater and 
slacks. Her hair wasn't curly, but it waved a bit, the way it did 
when she didn't bother to straighten it.

She took the glass of wine he handed her. "So what's up, 
Mulder?" Her eyes glinted at him over the rim as she took a 
sip.

Apparently the cooling off period had worked. She sounded 
more normal, if a bit curious. 

"Dinner. Wine. Conversation. Maybe watch a movie 
afterward. That's all." He took a sip from his own glass, 
wondering if he'd been *too* nonchalant. 

She didn't call him on it. Instead, they talked. About work, 
family, things they'd seen on the news, Bureau rumors and 
scandals -- everything except what happened the night before. 

It was nice. They'd been in such a hurry about everything 
lately. They were overdue for a slow, leisurely evening. 
Mulder found himself smiling more than usual, appreciating 
anew the sharpness of her mind and wit. When was the last 
time he'd really sat back and simply enjoyed being with her? 

Far too long, if the tingling in his groin was any indication. 
Not that that was anything new, but it had been a while since 
he'd felt the pleasant anticipation of the evening ahead. He'd 
been more reactive than proactive in recent months. He didn't 
have much choice when Scully was jumping his bones without any 
advance warning. 

Tonight he'd be the proactive one. And they wouldn't be gettin' 
funky on the living room floor, either.

After the dishes were washed and stacked, the wine was 
moved to the living room for a more elegant video experience. 
He'd deliberately picked a Grade B sci-fi movie so she would 
have the pleasure of tearing apart the specious science 
presented. She was in top form -- MST3K had nothing on 
Scully when it came to lampooning pseudo-scientific jargon. 

The movie ended well before bedtime, but sleep wasn't 
included in Mulder's plans. Yet. When Scully raised her 
eyebrow, he stood and offered his hand.

"Dessert awaits in the bedroom, madam." 

She graciously accepted his hand with an I-have-to-see-this 
expression and followed him into their room. She looked 
around for a moment. "Thanks for the flowers and candy, 
Mulder. So what's for dessert?"

He smiled. "You." Grabbing the bottom of her sweater, he 
said, "Arms up, please." 

The expression on her face was a classic "Mulder, you're 
crazy" look but she did as he asked. He removed her clothes 
and laid her back onto the pillows, then popped a chocolate 
covered strawberry into her mouth. Her eyes went wide as he 
saw her bite down. 

"It's liquid!" she murmured around the sweet. "Did you know 
that?"

He shook his head. "I just thought they would be different. 
Do you like it?"

She nodded, then scootched back into the pillows and watched 
him undress. "This is my favorite part," she said, reaching for 
another chocolate.

"What part?" He stripped off his pants and boxers in one 
swipe.

She leered. "The sex part."

Mulder opened his nightstand drawer and took out the 
massage oil. "Did I say anything about sex?" He waggled the 
bottle at her. "Time for dessert."

She stared pointedly at his half-hard penis. "JUST dessert?" 

He crawled onto the bed and made a "roll over" motion with his 
finger. "That's not on the menu yet. All the best chefs say 
that you shouldn't rush your courses." 

Scully popped another chocolate into her mouth, flipped over 
onto her stomach and mumbled, "These are really good, 
Mulder. You should try one." 

He unsnapped the lid on the massage oil. "You enjoy those, 
Scully. I've got a whole buffet laid out in front of me." 

The bed jounced as she chuckled. Mulder straddled her thighs, 
poured a little oil into his palm, then set the bottle aside and 
went to work. 

He loved to touch her skin. She always felt so soft and smooth, 
he almost hated to rub his scratchier hands against her. 
Judging by the way she was humming, she didn't seem to 
mind. It had been a long time since they're simply touched 
each other for the hell of it. 

Mulder took his time. He started at her neck, worked across 
her shoulders and then down her back. It sounded like every 
vertebrae popped when he pressed against her spine. 

She sighed and wiggled. "Did you grow a third hand or are you 
just happy to see me?"  

He glanced down at his erect cock, bobbing against her ass. 
She could usually get him hard with nothing more than a look. 
It was no wonder he was already saluting. He had her bare 
flesh at his mercy. 

He massaged oil onto her cheeks and rubbed his penis in the 
crease. "That's a very special *deep* massage tool, reserved 
for only my very best clients." 

She moved her hips up and down, increasing the friction. "Am 
I one of your best clients?" 

He patted her ass. "You're my *only* client. Now hold still or 
I won't let you find out how my special tool works." 

She stopped moving. Mulder worked his way down her legs, 
kneading the taut muscles from thighs to heels, then rubbing 
firmly over the bottoms of her feet to avoid tickling. 

A reflex-kick in the nuts would put a major damper on the rest 
of his plans for the evening.

Each toe was lovingly fondled to the accompaniment of her 
moans and sighs. He moved back up her legs, concentrating 
on her inner thighs, using the head of his cock to barely skim 
the moist cleft between them. When she moved to open her 
thighs, he squeezed his knees together, locking her legs in 
place.

"Uh uh," he admonished. "Turn over." 

He eased up enough so she was able to rotate between his 
knees. Her nipples were hard and the gleam in her eyes 
clearly said that she'd have knocked him flat on the bed and 
screwed his brains out any other day. His cock appeared to 
bow in acknowledgement of her will power.

Since he already knew where she wanted him to touch her, 
Mulder started at her feet just to prolong the anticipation. He 
found it more difficult to go slowly with her smoldering gaze 
locked on his penis. His cock seemed to have a mind of its 
own, waving about, pleased by all the attention, while he 
worked the muscles in her legs. 

She kept licking her lips, which was very distracting. 

He bypassed her crotch and moved to her arms instead. That 
way he could straddle her hips as he massaged her biceps and 
still rub his balls against her curls while his penis left 
doodles of pre-ejaculate on her stomach. 

Obviously, Scully wasn't the only one getting turned on. The 
oil on his hands made her skin feel unbelievably soft. 

He took his time with her breasts, spending several minutes 
rubbing his fingers all over the rounded slopes, the undersides, 
across the tops -- everywhere except her nipples. 

If her fisted hands were any indication, it was making her crazy. 
He was finding it hard to keep his hands off them, too, but the 
look on her face was worth the sacrifice.

He scooted backward, trailing his fingers down her stomach, 
straight to the neglected patch of curls in the vee of her thighs. 
Even with his knees keeping her legs together, he could see 
the hood of her clitoris peeking through the hair, swollen and 
aching for his touch. 

He reached for the oil bottle, then changed his mind. Instead, 
he took one of the strawberries from the plate, placed it 
between his teeth so she could see what he was doing, then 
leaned over her clit and bit into the chocolate. 

Sticky juice dribbled from the shattered confection before he 
sucked the bits into his mouth. The droplets shimmered as 
they dripped onto her engorged flesh, the contact of each one 
causing her to jump. He bent down and fastened his lips over 
her clit, sucking the sweet liquid from her sensitized skin, 
adding her essence to the taste of strawberries and chocolate 
already in his mouth. 

Damn, what a flavor. 

Scully writhed under his enthusiastic attentions as she gave 
voice to her pleasure. He flicked his tongue over the last 
specks of syrup, then rolled her onto her side and spooned up 
behind her.

She immediately threw one leg over his hip in open invitation. 
A hot wave of her scent hit him full force. It took all his 
control not to ram into her softness and rut like a stag until 
he exploded. They'd started out slow and that's how they'd end 
the night -- slow, sensual, making love instead of fucking 
themselves limp. 

Even if it killed him, which it very well might.

He positioned her ass in his lap and stroked his aching cock 
between her legs. She was ready for him, slicking moisture 
onto his rigid flesh with every pass over her swollen lips. He 
captured her hips with his hands and steadied her as his penis 
nudged into her opening. Scully pushed back, assisting his 
entry into her body.

They both gasped as he slid all the way in. Mulder always 
loved the first sensations of being inside her, completely 
enclosed within the woman he loved -- tight, wet, clasped firmly 
in the love she returned to him in more ways than this. 

He set a languid pace, gently thrusting and withdrawing as he 
ran his hands over her breasts, whispered in her ear, rubbed 
her clit. She matched his rhythm, reaching behind her to stroke 
his flanks, caress his face. 

This was what had been missing. Hard, frantic sex was all well 
and good, but nothing came close to the sweetness of making 
love with Scully. 

Unfortunately, Mulder could already feel his orgasm 
approaching. "How do you like dessert, Scully?" he huffed into 
her ear. "You ready for the aperitif now?"

"Oh yeah," she moaned. "I'm feeling rather stuffed but I think I 
have room for a bit more."

He chuffed a laugh into her hair as he pinched her nipple with 
one hand and pressed the hard knot between her legs with the 
other. She stiffened and shook in his arms, high-pitched, 
inarticulate cries of ecstasy keeping time with the pulsing of her 
walls around his hardness. Her pleasure set off his own -- not 
in a white-hot explosion of release, but more like the dashing of 
a wave against a sandy beach which then curls in on itself 
before running up on the shore again. 

It was the most satisfying, intensely loving orgasm he'd had in 
months. There was a lot to be said in favor of making time for 
foreplay.

Mulder nuzzled Scully's neck and gathered her close as she 
reached around to rub her hand over his hip. "So what was 
that all about?" she asked.

"What was what all about?" He smirked when she lightly 
slapped his ass. 

"You know very well what I mean. Dinner. Massage. Flowers 
and chocolates? What's the occasion, Mulder?" 

"No special occasion." She turned her head to look over her 
shoulder and he kissed her nose. "No, really. I thought it might 
be nice to have a slow, intimate evening for a change. That's 
all."

"This is about last night."

Quick on the uptake as always. That was his Scully. "Maybe. 
Did you enjoy yourself?" 

She chuckled. "I get it, Mulder. Slow and sexy can be 
satisfying, too. I've never doubted that, you know."

He picked up her hand and kissed each finger before 
answering. "I know. I was just trying to slow things down so 
this old man could catch his breath. That's all."

"You will *never* be old, Mulder. Trust me." Lips puckered, 
she leaned back to kiss him and he met her halfway. There 
was no feeling of urgency as their lips pressed together, only a 
warm familiarity that he'd come to cherish. 

"So," he said once she'd settled back against his chest, "about 
your recent insatiable need for sex ... "

She snuggled into his embrace, obviously preparing to drop off 
to sleep. "It's hormonal."

"But what does that mean? And why now?"

"Oh." She glanced over her shoulder again. "Well, it means 
that my hormone levels are changing. It's called peri-
menopause and it affects some women starting in their late 
thirties or early forties. Hormone balances shift, moods alter, 
sex drive kicks into high gear. I turned forty last year. I 
guess that's my magic number."

"So how come I've never heard about this before?" 

"You've never heard of a midlife crisis?"

"I thought only men have those."

Scully snorted. "What do you think sets them off? Trophy wife, 
fast car, change of lifestyle -- if that's not a hormone 
imbalance, I don't know what is."

Mulder pondered that a moment while he nibbled on her 
shoulder to keep her awake. "And that's what led to me being 
screwed half to death last night and yesterday morning and the 
night before that, etcetera etcetera?"

"Uh huh." She was fading fast but he still needed to know 
something.

"So how long is this hormone tear likely to last?"

She yawned. "A few years maybe, until I hit menopause. 
Think you can stand it?"

"I'll start taking vitamins tomorrow." 

He felt her chuckle vibrate her back. "Better make those extra-
strength vitamins. I've got lots of plans for you."

Mulder smiled and closed his eyes. Yeah, he'd definitely have 
to slow her down from time to time. It wasn't that he disliked 
wham-bam sex, but he didn't want to wear himself out and miss 
the next five years with Scully. Or the five after that. Or 
the five after that...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END

Feedback: mimic1172@gmail.com