Of course! @xfpornbattle

Prompt 71: “Be a good slut, get on all fours, and stop talking or I’ll gag you. And if I have told o that, I know you’ll love it, too.”

what you need || msr || 1300 words

She takes off her coat, walks into the small, unremarkable house she and Mulder share, still not convinced sometimes that it really belongs to the two of them together. Their latest case bothers her enough she can feel the physical weight of it, still lingering even though she’s long left the office, taken off her own outerwear.

She sighs and sits down, closes her eyes—just for a moment. Mulder is off somewhere, said he needed a drive, and she allows him that—that time apart that makes living together possible.

When Mulder comes back a few hours later she can still see the tension in the tightness of his shoulders, his set jaw.

They need a release. She needs a release, and they’ve been together long enough now she knows she can ask for one.

She comes up behind him and rests her head on his back, her palms sliding down his chest.

“Long day,” she says, and he nods, and he breathes, and she feels some of the tension leave him, just a little. She kisses his shoulder blade, feels him tense under her, but a different kind of tension.

“I can make it go away… Daddy,” she whispers, and he exhales, but doesn’t turn around. She bites her lip, waiting—she’s only called him that once, but it’s what she needs tonight, to give up control to him, to feel protected. It’s not something she’s ashamed of, but asking for it now makes her feel vulnerable. Weak.

And then he turns around and his eyes are dark with desire and want and she knows then that he feels the same as her, needs the same way she does.

He crushes his mouth to hers and her back presses against the kitchen counter and in one swift movement he lifts her up there, his lips on her neck, then his teeth, and she moans.

“Fuck—Mulder—“

His fingers snake through her hair and pull, her head yanking back, exposing her throat.

“What did you call me?”

A shiver runs through her. This, this is what she wanted.

“I’m sorry—Daddy,” she says, and it comes out in a whisper but she knows he hears her.

“Good girl,” he says, and her breath hitches in her throat. He returns his mouth to her neck, unbuttoning her shirt, his hands unbelievably tender. She moans.

And then his lips leave her skin and the lack of contact makes her shiver, whine.

He grabs her wrist, looks in her eyes for affirmation, and she nods. And then he’s pulling her off the counter and to their bedroom, pushing her face-down onto the bed, his weight on her, his hands at the buckle of her belt.

“Mul—Daddy—”

A smack on her ass through the fabric of her pants.

“You only talk when I say.” He leans closer, his lips by her ear. “You want to be a good slut for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, and closes her eyes.

God she needs this. This lack of control, this complete and total trust in Mulder—just the thought of it makes her shiver again.

He undoes her belt and pulls her pants down, and she wishes she’d worn something sexier, something more enticing.

But the words “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” leave his mouth, and fuck how can this man make her feel so wanted, so desired, even when she doesn’t feel like it?

“Thank you,” she whispers, and he spanks her again, harder this time.

“What did I just say?”

She just whimpers.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and his hands cup her ass, massaging where he just hit.

She knows she’s wet, now, and she’s aching for him to touch her, squirms a little, trying to get some friction between her clit and the bed. He notices, laughs.

“So eager,” he says. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she says, and then winces, waiting for the contact because he didn’t say she could talk. But he just laughs again.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Be a good slut for me and get on all fours. Don’t talk again or I’ll gag you. And if I have to do it, I know you’ll love that, too.”

She groans, growing wetter from his words, but she does as he says, crawling up onto the bed, the mattress under her knees, her ass in the air. She hears the sound of his own belt coming undone, and God if she wasn’t trembling before she certainly is now.

He yanks her underwear down and she hears the rip of it and she’s grateful now that he knows it’s a cheap pair. Her breath comes in short pants.

And then he smacks her ass again, harder this time, hard enough to sting and bring tears to her eyes but fuck if it doesn’t make her wetter. He does it again and she yelps, resisting the urge to press her face into the mattress.

“Good girl,” he pants, and she turns her head to see him naked behind her, his face as flushed as she knows hers is. She wriggles her ass a little closer to him, enticing, teasing.

She waits for the sting of his hand again, but it doesn’t come. The beds shifts and then there’s his tongue at her entrance and fuck she almost comes from that alone, firm hard strokes over her cunt, and she’s so close—

He pulls back.

“Not yet,” he says. “You’re not coming until I do.”

She wants to retort, wants to tease him back. Finds herself begging instead.

“Please, please Daddy I need it—“

He yanks her head back again.

“I told you to stop talking. God, you can’t shut up, can you? Smart-ass Scully, always has to have an opinion,” he says, and then his fingers are in her mouth and she’s sucking on them, can faintly taste herself, and then and then he pulls them out, replacing them with the ripped pair of her own underwear.

He leans so he’s eye level with her, and his gaze is so intense she almost shrinks back. But there’s something tender in it, too.

“I’m going to fuck you, since that’s what you want,” he says softly. “But you’re not going to come until I do, understand?”

She nods.

“Good girl,” he says, and kisses her forehead, and the gesture is so unexpectedly intimate, so Mulder, that it almost makes her tear up.

He moves so he’s behind her again and she braces herself for him to enter, for him to fill her, but then his tongue is back on her, tasting her, and she groans because she knows what she’s doing, knows he’s determined to make her almost come. She clamps her teeth down on the dirty pair of her own underwear, feels herself getting closer, closer—

And then he mercifully stops, and she breathes, but then just as quickly he’s inside her and she groans, because he is filling her, tantalizingly slow, teasing.

“God, you’re so wet,” he says. “You’re just so desperate for my cock aren’t you, my little slut?”

She nods, and he pulls back before filling her again, picking up the pace, and she moves against him, matching his thrusts. His hands grip her hips as he begins slamming against her, and she is so close—

“Not yet,” he pants. He fucks her harder, and she whines through the gag because she is going to come so soon if he keeps this up—

“Not. Yet.” He bites out. He slows down, slamming himself into her now, and she can hear how wet she is, how hard he’s fucking her—

“Fuck, Scully,” he breathes, and it’s that that sends her over the edge, her name in his mouth, his cock in her, and she opens her mouth so the gag falls out and yells his name as she comes with him.

After, in his arms, sticky with sweat, nuzzling herself into his neck—“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, kissing her forehead again. “I always know what you need.”