From: djmckent@neo.rr.com   
      
   Title:  The Magic Number   
      
   Author:  mimic117   
      
   Email:  mimic117@yahoo.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.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)