*Warning* This sexually explicit body of work. If you are a minor or are easily offended, please do not continue reading.

I know I'm setting myself up for the flames now, but I can't help it. I had to do it. I had to get it out of me, and you guys all know that if I had to suffer with something, I like to spread it around.

Enjoy. Or not. But whatever you feel, write me about it.

And, by the by, all characters belong to someone else, actually.

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

An X-Files Adult Fan Fiction

by The Vault.

Doggett let himself quietly into her apartment, making sure the door didn’t creak. He didn’t quite know why he’d come, or where he’d gotten the courage. He did know she was still up, however – he had seen her bedroom lights burning from the rainy street.

He moved on stealthy, careful feet, his heart pounding. Was he crazy? Entering his pregnant partner’s house without invitation, creeping around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her – doing what? He had roused from his restless sleep that night, his blood buzzing, and knew that he had to just see her again.

Music led him on through her dim living room to the door of her bedroom. Lean frame alert, he craned to look in.

She’d recently moved her computer desk to a spot beside her bed. He knew that she would work on her reports until early morning and then literally collapse – after hours interspersed with searching all the government databases she could, looking for some rhyme or reason to Mulder’s disappearance. John Doggett ground his teeth a moment in irritation and despair. He’d find Mulder for her, all right – he’d raise the devil himself if she asked – but did she have to want him back so badly?

He only half heard the CD playing in her computer drive: oldies. He would have figured her for Schubert or similar, but –

There she was. Her mane of red hair was just visible over the top of her computer chair. He watched the petite arm on the rest for a long moment. It did not move. Fatigued from overworking and her condition, she had drifted off to sleep sitting up.

He exhaled, shuddering. He should leave. She’d never know that he’d come snooping. But... her face...

The disc turned, the next song began – and it seemed to fire something at the base of his spine.

“Put your head on my shoulder...” the singer urged quietly.

John straightened and went in.

It was warmer in the bedroom and the light from her desk lamp spread a soft glow over everything, sparked a halo of her auburn hair. He circled her silently, holding his breath. Slowly her face came into view. Classically rounded, her features were luminous; a beautiful woman just entering her prime, flushed with slumber and pregnancy.

“Hold me in your arms, baby...”

Could he? She was sleeping so deeply. Did he have the guts? He extended a finger and with just the tiniest bit of pressure caressed her cheek. Dana sighed, her lips parting, but showed no signs of waking.

Gently he did it again, this time with three fingertips.

“Squeeze me oh so tight...show me... that you love me too...”

She moved then, rubbed her cheek against his palm like a cat. He nearly froze in terror, and then a warm rush of desire thawed him. He wanted to touch those full lips, to lift her glorious hair slightly and stroke the nape of her white neck so tenderly...

Then her eyes flickered open, and Doggett found new levels of distress. During his years on the force and his months in the X-Files, nothing had scared him more than her waking up at that very moment.

But she merely gazed at him, as if sleepily puzzling out her whereabouts and his presence. He shut his eyes, cursed internally, then opened them again.

“This is all just a dream, Dana,” he told her earnestly.

“Perhaps it is, John.” Her green eyes glittered. Then she stretched slightly, pushing into his palm again. He was warm and his hand not too rough. She laid her hand over his, and wondered for a moment just what he’d do.

“Then maybe you wouldn’t mind,” he asked, ice blue eyes painfully hopeful, “if a dream asked you to dance?”

She smiled then, and he had to smile in return, although his knees still shook. Dana rose gracefully, a vision in her untucked blouse and stocking feet. She was so small, he noticed once more through a haze of bliss as he took her hands and brought her to him: she fit perfectly under his chin. He hummed the bridge of the song and tried not to think about his hand resting in the neat hollow of her back, the full breasts that brushed his chest. She smiled to herself when he began to sing softly in a pleasant Southern baritone but didn’t let him see. He might lose his nerve... and she wanted to hear him...

“People say that love’s a game... a game you just can’t win...”

He lightly, tentatively kissed her forehead.

“If there is a way...”

He kissed her cheek.

“I’ll find it someday...”

She looked at him directly and he suddenly had no breath to sing.

As the song soared, he felt her hand on the back of his neck. He closed his arms tighter, felt the full press of her soft body, and finally touched those rosebud lips with his own.

Dana moved with him, her feelings a blur. She knew she made a funny picture – a five-month pregnant woman dancing like a debutant to a song older than she was. But he was rock solid against her, holding her hand gently but firmly, embracing her with a proper restraint tested to its limits. This could nearly be a dream, she thought as she flushed slowly with arousal. The feel of him thrumming with desire, his hot breath on her bared throat... it was so surreal for its very presence.

Now, with a delicacy and gentleness born of deep emotion, he put her arms around his neck, still refusing to disengage. His lips parted hers, tongues meeting. His eyes were half open, his vision narrowed. All he could see was soft skin, red hair, the flash of amusement in her green eyes. I am possessed, he thought. I don’t want to be alone any more.

And she caressed the line of his jaw, stroked an earlobe with tapered fingertips. She could feel his hands lifting the back of her blouse to press hot against her bare flesh. As if she had been electrified, Doggett suddenly jerked away, breaking the kiss. The sudden rush of cool air between them was bracing.

“I don’t want to stop,” he gasped, strain and desperation written in his features.

She surrendered to dream – and it made everything crystal clear. “You don’t have to,” she said, stepping back into his embrace.

His fingers found her ivory flesh immediately. He explored the hollow of her shoulder blades and shapely back as he bent to place fiery kisses on her throat. Dana gasped, and he unfastened her bra with a flick of his thumb. She could make no comment about his skill, however, because then he ran his hand up to the back of her neck, pressed her into his ministrations.

They turned in the dance. She reached between their bellies, causing him to gasp, and undid his belt. Dana swayed out of the way and pulled it free of the belt loops in a slow steady movement. If she had allowed herself to think it, she would have admitted this was insane. She’d only known John Doggett for a few months – after all she’d learned on the X-Files, how could she so completely trust him to guard her back, let alone get so close to her front...

Yet she remembered. Even when they’d first met (and she’d thrown a glass of water full in his face with every appearance of rancor) she’d thought him a stunning man; and as she had stomped out of the room, angry and upset, she’d still felt the flush at the hollow of her breasts at his voice’s soft drawl. He had been nothing but proper, gallant and officially remote, but he’d seen in just a moment what dear Mulder hadn’t seem to notice in their seven years as partners.

She was a woman, and everything a woman should be.

Now he cupped her face delicately in his palms as they swayed. His gaze was hypnotically direct and desiring as always but it couldn’t distract her from the faint reddening of his cheeks. He was embarrassed: there was no way she couldn’t help noticing his erection by now.

How sweet, she purred silently, and felt decidedly wicked.

She slid one hand through their tangle of arms and bodies, and undid the top button of his dress shirt. He sighed. Dana kept going and with each button the heat radiating from him seemed to increase. He was like a furnace. She could smell his aftershave and a hint of clean body scent from him as she untucked his shirt and spread it open.

John groaned between clenched teeth as she ran her fingertips down his chest and muscled abdomen. In all his midnight fantasies, staring up at his darkened ceiling with his mind focused but his body aflame, never had he reached heights like these. He was overwhelmed: the heat between their bodies, the scent of her, the gentle blush on her throat and cheeks that told him nearly more than her mischievous smile as she stroked down his taut six-pack again and burrowed her fingers under the waistband of his pants.

“Just a dream, John,” she murmured, using that grip to pull him closer to her. “You should relax.”

He withdrew a tiny bit at that and studied her, lips pursed. She watched his chest rise and fall as he slowed his breathing. Then with a sudden movement he bent and scooped her up in arms like iron. John inhaled deeply of her scent once more, shuddered, then stepped forward and laid her on the rumpled sheets of her bed. Deliberately he shrugged out of his shirt and stood at her side, gazing down at her.

She put her hands behind her head nonchalantly. Nice. His chest was not too hairy, just a light brown fur that curled gently. The hairs connected his erect nipples, spread out over his tight pectorals and traced a thin trail down from his navel into his immaculate dress pants. His arms were wiry with prominent muscles and his long fingered hands… the sight of them clenching and unclenching at his sides as he held in check his desire made something deep within her tighten in response. He was studiously perfect, spotless. It was curious. She wanted to see the rest, to open him up, to find the place where order and logic stopped and the chaos of passion began.

He moved like a cat, lithe as he stretched out beside her. John threaded an arm beneath her shoulders and with the other hand began to undo her blouse. The light of the lamp made his shoulder a glowing silhouette above her, mesmerizing. She focused on it as his fingertips moved down. It’s all a pleasant dream, she promised silently. Tomorrow nothing will have changed.

Dimly Doggett knew that the song was looping, filling this warm space. As before it carried him, encouraged him. In silence he knew he would never have found the strength. He helped her out of her blouse and bra, then bent and buried his face beside her ear.

“It’s just a dream,” he whispered, his hand on her ribcage, “but nearly every night I wake up thinking of you.” His skin was so hot it felt like a brand as he slid his hand upward, stroked the underside of her left breast with the back of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, so fragile, and your mind… so intricate.” Now he cupped her breast, flicked her nipple with his thumb to make her gasp. He was whispering directly against the flesh of her throat. “And I wake up...and my heart aches...and my...” He arched against her, gasping, making her feel the source of his torment. The hand on her chest was still gentle but more insistent, working her, making dampness spread between her thighs. “And all I’ve wanted was to hold you, and touch you, and tell you...”

“Put your lips next to mine, dear...” the song begged.

“When you walk by, I can taste you,” he breathed as he kissed her collarbone. He paused over her heart, pressed his lips to sensitive flesh. “When you look at me, I’ve never wanted anything more...and when I touch you like this...” She stroked his cheek gently. His breath tickled her skin and when he met her gaze it was her turn to be paralyzed in awe.

“I’d follow you into Hell,” he admitted, so softly as if he hardly dared to think the thoughts, much less say them. “I’d move the earth for you. I’d do anything you asked me to.”

And I love you, he said silently as he went down, taking her other hard nipple between his lips, sucking, applying friction with his tongue. So dangerous to think it...mmm... Her thighs rubbed him. She writhed as he paid both breasts homage, embracing him closely, her hands caressing his hard shoulders.

“Then don’t stop,” she begged, pressing her lips into his short-cropped brown hair. “Just don’t stop.”

John let everything shut down but his desire to tug gently, nibble, and suck what was in his mouth. He shut his eyes in bliss and was surrounded by her scent, her moans of increasing pleasure, the feel and taste of her. When she broke and turned inward, gasping, trying to escape his unrelenting attentions he let go of the nipple and started on the other, unzipping the side seam of her skirt and urging it down. When he got it past her knees she kicked it off and his hand made the return trip on the inside of her thigh. She pressed herself down on his caress, his hand like a hot coal against her damp panties, and retaliated as best she could by stroking and grasping the shockingly hard bulge at his crotch.

Distractedly she thought “My God”, while the hidden id within the usually analytical, sensible brain shrieked “He’s hung!” gleefully. When you could total the time since your last shared pleasures not in days or weeks but in years, you were nearly beyond help. It’d be lovely riding someone else’s fingers to orgasm, and to have them put something like this inside her... When she thought about it, and how his member overflowed her grip on all sides, and how heated his eyes were when he looked at her, she stepped up her pace without realizing it and he squirmed.

“Gently,” he grunted. “Keep that up and I’ll go too soon.”

“Who’s dreaming this?”

He laughed at her, then, hooking a fingertip in her white underwear to remove them. They slid with a hiss down her stocking-clad legs. John found it incredibly sexy, and wriggled down on the bed to be there where he’d wanted to be ever since he’d first met her. She spread willingly for him.

Ooooh, Little Miss Scully, he thought, smiling tenderly despite the painful throbbing of his cock. You’ve been a bad, bad girl. What have we here? Look at this puss, all shaved and trimmed clean. Who have you been waiting for, my sweet girl?

He fingered the soft folds, watched them slide apart like the halves of a ripe peach, slippery with juice. John held her open, examined her for a long moment, and then applied his tongue. He then had to wrap his arms around her hips for Dana gave a squeal of surprise and squirmed out of his grasp. John flicked his tongue, his hands reaching up to stroke her belly comfortingly. He worked with quick even tongue strokes over her clitoris, into the opening of her vagina, down to her sensitive perineum and back. She was panting now, writhing on his lips. When he looked up at her, over her mons, he could see that she was twisting her own nipples, eager for a release. So erotic, to see her that needy. But he wasn’t done. He wanted to drink her.

He moved downward just a bit, now lightly nuzzling her clit but in position to insert tongue and lips into her tight passage. She filled his mouth with a sugary taste, warm and thick – and followed it with a hard orgasm. Dana clenched her thighs around his shoulders and rocked on the sheets, moaning like a cat. Quickly he moved away, covering her crotch with a hand to keep her folds warm and wet, and slid up to kiss her and hold her. The petite woman met him eagerly and clung to him, shaking with climax, tasting her own fluids on his lips.

“Dana,” he murmured... just to say it.

And now she had opened his pants with a tiny hand. He was on his plateau, feeling detached with pleasure as he watched her move aside his boxers and free his erection. It was rock-hard and throbbing, purple at its mushroom head, lined with thick veins, already leaking a drop of clear fluid. It looked huge in her tiny hands as she stroked him. You’ve outdone yourself tonight, he mused to it giddily – and then almost completely blacked out when she moved and took him into her mouth.

He hissed between his teeth, unable to vocalize a word meaningful enough to describe how it felt as she slid up and down on it, and rubbed the sensitive glans with her tongue. John stroked aside her hair, held her by one ivory shoulder and tried not to come apart as he watched her move, and felt her. “Dana...” he croaked, and his eyes crossed briefly. “Dana,” he tried again, “you gotta stop. I can’t take that for much longer.”

With one last swipe of her tongue she came up again, and he kicked his pants completely off. They tangled up for a long moment, a total embrace. It felt wonderful, she admitted to herself, as if every part of him were built to cradle and caress every part of her.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked quietly. “You know that this isn’t just a dream.”

“It is. It’s the most beautiful dream I’ve ever had.”

He tightened his hug. “I love you,” he whispered, barely audibly, testing it, feeling it sink into her like a flower slowly floating to the bottom of a crystal pond. She kissed his bare shoulder, and nuzzled it warmly.

Relieved, he relaxed. His hands began roaming again, to squeeze her rounded buttocks, stroke the tops of her knees. John touched her labia again, but this time wet his index finger in her fluid and slowly inserted it into her passage. Dana stretched her tiny frame in response and he sighed...God, she was so tight...

Barely breathing, he fucked her for a while; first with one finger, then with two. Although his contact with this her most intimate part maintained his ecstasy, the sensation that made his heart beat hardest was that of her slim hand resting so trustingly on his chest, her head under his chin as she rode his hand.

“I need you,” he said finally. Wordlessly she stretched out on her back, spread her thighs. He paused in the act of getting on his knees and just looked at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with desire and she smiled at him, a true smile, a trusting smile. He’d never forget it, he knew. Heaven… Moving between her knees he aligned his tip with her and gently, slowly, pierced her.

He paused a moment, gasping, as he sank to his root in her. How long had it been? John had been alone long before her, and had spent nights dreaming of this moment for months. It was too long. He clenched his teeth, bit down on his control, and began a deep steady rhythm.

She gave a low moan of pleasure, wrapped arms and legs around him. John was losing his sight – his whole perception of the world narrowed down to a telescopic vision in the delirium of delicious agony. He could feel her body move and clench around him, her sweet ejaculate.

John, with his hands holding her belly, continued to thrust, pausing frequently to maintain control. A thought surfaced, of the quickening life within her beneath his palms. It had hit him doubly hard last week when he had finally found out about her pregnancy: first, that she had not trusted him with that information, and second, that she was carrying another man’s child – most likely Mulder’s, from what he had been able to gather. He knew that she believed it possibly wasn’t Mulder’s child, that it wasn’t even human. She had been so anxious since then, scared even of her own body. He feared that she would experience serious mental trauma if her baby – the one she was supposed to be unable to conceive – was not as it should be.

But John didn’t care whose child it was now, or even what it was. He was here for her now, he thought, his embrace tightening, and he could make it better. He could make it okay. By his presence – by his union with her – he would protect and shield her. Whatever she needed, he’d be.

She was panting and clinging to him now, lifted by his motion. “John, let go,” she murmured. “I won’t break.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat at her urge and rolled onto the bed, pulling her on top of him. Within the cage of his arms she bucked, keeping time with his thrusts. As his heart pounded even harder, fit to burst out of his chest, he felt her gasp and orgasm suddenly with an intensity that shook her like a volcano. Her quivering, clenching cavern, the way she’d held his gaze until the last moment of lucidity – it was too much. Stiffening down to his toes, he sank to his hilt inside her and allowed his orgasm to crash down on him, draining him of life itself, it felt.

He drifted in a black sea for just a little while, solitary but not quite alone. His heartbeat made the waves tremor like the deep bass calls of whales beneath the surface and he floated on a tiny coracle, dwarfed by the immensity of sensation. John opened his eyes after a long moment (the differences between her ceiling and his were physically negligible but emotionally astounding) and with a quiet joy memorized the way her warm pleasant weight felt on his chest and abdomen, the way her hair spread like a silky red web across his throat, the puff of her slowing breath on his nipple. He took a moment and stroked the ivory curve of her spine, crossed his arms over her back to press her close. He watched her fingers trace little circles on his chest – and for long moments refused to think anything at all.

But nights weren’t built to last forever, and soon he steeled himself and began to move.

“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily before he could disengage.

“Do you want me to stay?” he returned.

There were tears in her eyes, but she didn’t let them show, didn’t let them reach her voice. Perhaps he wouldn’t understand why she cried and smiled at the same time. She’d broken her promises – tomorrow would be different. But maybe it’d be better.

“Yes. Please.”

The bed that had always seemed so large and chill to Dana Scully for the first time fit just right. He rolled on his side and still refused to let go, letting their bodies disengage naturally before pulling a cover up to their shoulders.

“Do you want me to be here when you wake up?” he murmured, gazing down at her sleepy face.

“Always,” she said, and curled up against him like a kitten.

Maybe there’d be more questions later. He didn’t know, and kinda didn’t think it mattered right now. He reached over, turned the computer off, took one last look at his glowing, beautiful woman – and shut off the light.

***end