Work Text:
Tap tap tap.
"Who's there?" He called, startled. Dammit. He'd just been about to fall asleep.
Tap tap tap, came the knock, more insistent this time.
He sighed, and folded himself out of the chair he'd collapsed on after the day's shooting. Whoever it was had better have a good reason for calling on him past midnight.
He swung the door open, and on the top step of the entry to his trailer stood a flushed, petite woman. She wore a rumpled minidress she must have changed into after her scenes were done, and a pair of black stiletto heels. Her normally perfectly-coiffed Dana Scully hair was disheveled, with a few red strands falling on her face. He resisted the urge to brush them back.
"Gill?" He asked.
"Mimi," she breathed.
"Mimi?"
"Mimi Rogers," she said, her voice trembling but forceful. "Are you with her, David?"
He looked at her quizzically.
"Have you been drinking, Gill?"
"Just a little," she shrugged. David was sceptical about the "little" part, but she wasn't slurring her speech or falling over or anything.
"Answer the question," she said.
"Look, did you knock on my trailer in the middle of the night just to ask if I'm dating Mimi?"
"Answer the damn question," she hissed.
"No, I am not dating her," he said patiently, leaning against the door frame. "We just went for dinner - as friends, and that's all."
Gillian nodded distractedly. It wasn’t like her to show up in the middle of the night and demand answers from anybody and she knew it, even in her tipsy state. Studying her, David remembered that something had been off about their dynamic today, a kind of tension that surpassed even their usual flirty conversations and teasing, but he’d ignored the feeling, focusing instead on his performance and the lines he had to deliver - he should have asked her what was wrong then. Well, he thought. Guess he was about to find out.
"I don't understand-" he said. "Why?"
She paused. "It's cold," she stated simply, rubbing her shoulders.
David sighed and moved out of the way so she could enter his trailer. He followed her after shutting the door and sunk into his seat again, gesturing at the other chair for her to sit in. She remained standing, but kicked off her heels by the wall.
"Gill?" He prompted.
"I'm tired, David," she said.
"Yeah, so am I," he chuckled wryly.
"No, I mean I'm tired of this this stupid back and forth. This- thing between us."
"What do you-"
"You touch me. I touch you back. You push forward. I pull away. I push forward. You pull away."
He regarded her from under his lashes, her form towering over his for once because of their positions.
"Gillian," he said slowly. "I don't think this is a good idea. If you go back, and wait until-"
"Fuck, David I am tired of waiting.”
She approached him, and he leaned back warily on his seat to try and put some distance between them. Proximity to Gillian always drove him more than a little crazy, and he couldn’t have that right now. Still, she continued to advance until her knees were touching his. She leaned over and braced her hands against the arms of his seat.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” she whispered.
David swallowed. “I don’t want this,” he said, but he had never been a very good liar. It sounded empty, even to him.
Without breaking eye contact, she brought one knee up beside his thigh, then the other, and sunk into his lap, straddling him. He let out a low groan. Her hands left the chair and moved to cup his face, and he found himself leaning almost involuntarily into her touch.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” she whispered again, her voice stronger this time.
He closed his eyes. “Gill, I- I can’t do that.”
“Then kiss me,” she said hoarsely, and it was like a switch had been flicked. He held her by the waist and pulled her to him so that their bodies were flush against each other, and captured her lips in his own, kissing like his life depended on it. She purred her approval, and kissed him back with the same fervor, grinding against him. Her dress had ridden up, and he could feel her heated core even through the fabric of his pants and the sheer lace of her underwear.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he said, as he trailed searing kisses onto the side of her neck.
“Shut up,” she replied, gasping as he scraped his teeth on her sensitive pulse point.
She grinded against him again, and that’s when he couldn’t take it anymore. Without a warning, he grabbed the backs of her thighs and stood up, lifting her up with him in one fluid motion. She squealed and immediately locked her arms behind his neck. He put her down and she let out a noise of protest before he growled into her ear, “I want to fuck you against the counter.”
“God yes,” she replied, and reached for the counter. Placing her hands on the wooden surface, she swayed her ass tantalizingly at him. He had hoped his forceful proclamation would make her rethink her decision to be here tonight, but if anything, it seemed to have turned her on even more. And now for David, there was no going back. Gillian, in his room, looking like a debauched dream, demanding to be fucked. Who was he to refuse?
He trailed his hands over her sides, relishing the way that he could make her shiver. He pushed up the hem of her dress to reveal a tight ass, clad only in a small scrap of black lace which was pulled off and discarded in no time. He dipped a finger into her honeyed center, and she groaned, pressing back against him.
“Stop teasing David,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “I want to take you now, ” He withdrew his finger hastily, quickly unzipped his pants and pulled himself out of his boxers. Unsurprisingly, he was already hard, and all it took was a few pumps with his hand to get himself fully erect. Using one hand to guide his length to her entrance, he coated himself in her juices before pushing into her with a groan. Fuck, she was wet. Oh so wet - for him. He took it slow, entering her inch by inch but she hummed impatiently and wriggled her hips.
“Oh fuck me already, David,” she got out between gritted teeth.
“Have it your way,” he murmured, and retreated before slamming into her, burying himself in her to the hilt. She screamed then, hands clenching the counter, her head thrown back in ecstasy.
"Like that?" He asked.
“Yeah, just like that!" she cried.
He didn’t know if she’d slept with anyone recently but he wanted to show her the best fucking she had ever gotten in her life, something that would make her forget about anyone else. He picked up the pace and deepened his thrusts; spearing into her, splitting her in two.
"So- good-" she moaned, and he could already feel her walls clenching slightly around him. He hoped she’d reach her climax soon because he couldn't last very long in this state - Gillian fucking Anderson, naked under him, screaming for him, the tight walls of her cunt wrapped around his cock - it was a miracle he'd held on for this long.
“Talk to me David,” she gasped, before letting out another breathy moan.
He reached under her to pull down the neck of her dress and palm her breasts roughly. She wasn’t wearing a bra, he thought dazedly.
“Gill, you feel so good,” he said into her ear. “So fucking tight...” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “So wet for me...”
"Fuck, David," she groaned.
He kept up his punishing pace, helped by how Gillian's hips pushed back to meet his thrusts. Soon enough, her hold on the counter slackened and she shuddered under him.
"I'm going to come," she whined, her voice strained and high-pitched.
"Come for me," he rasped, and she fell apart, her walls spasming around his cock and her speech reduced to an incoherent string of words that included "fuck", "David" and not much else. His own orgasm followed shortly, and he spilled into her with a guttural shout that he sincerely hoped wouldn't wake anybody up. The world could learn about them, but they had to learn about each other first. It was okay. They had time.
After riding out his high and letting Gillian ride hers out too, he eased out of her; spent and exhausted but happy; happier than he had been in months. Catching his breath, he wordlessly handed her a couple of tissues to wipe herself off and took a couple for himself; cleaning the sticky wetness and tucking himself back into his pants. He saw her smoothing down her dress and adjusting its straps; suddenly quiet.
“Gillian?” He asked, putting his hand on her arm lightly. She looked up at him, and her eyes were glossy.
“You were right,” she said. “This was a bad idea.”
His heart sank. He swallowed, trying to get the words out. “Did you- it wasn’t-?”
“No, no.” She sighed. “It was good.”
“Then-”
“Too good. David I- I can’t go on- without this- without you-” She spoke faster and faster, her thoughts spilling out of her like uncorked champagne. “If I never showed up today- we could have gone on pretending- you might be able to go back, but I can’t- ”
“Hey, hey, hey, slow down,” he said, placing both hands on her arms, rubbed them slowly. She deflated, and he put his hand on her cheek so that she looked at him again, their eyes meeting across the inches between them. “Who said I wanted to go back?”
Her lips parted slightly, and he wanted to kiss her all over again. “I thought- because you didn’t want-”
“I just didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.” He ran a thumb over her lower lip. “Do you regret this?” He asked softly.
“No,” she said, equally soft. “Do you?”
“Not for a moment,” he said, and he felt her lips crash into his, hot, sweet and so quintessentially her. He kissed her back, sucking on her lower lip and bringing his hands behind her head, threading his fingers through her soft hair. He felt her warm body press against his, fitting so perfectly into him like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. They knew that already of course; their chemistry evident on screen as Mulder and Scully - but it was different when it was just them. David and Gillian. Yin and yang.
Meant to be.