Gunnison Airport, archive room. 27 October, 5:47 AM. Blizzard howls outside, snow sealing us in. I push the door. Noise from before. Hand on gun. ‘FBI! Show yourself!’ Her voice: ‘Mulder, it’s me.’ Scully steps from shadows. Real? Heart slams chest. We scan lists, trapped by storm. She closes in. ‘Mulder, relax. She’s stuck here. Think of us.’ Fingers trace my chest. Heat rises. Skin prickles. Breath quickens. She rips my shirt open. Buttons scatter. Lips on neck, hot, wet. Pulse races wild. Cock twitches. Her hand dives to zipper. Grips me firm. Soft flesh hardens fast in her fist. Strokes slow, then urgent. Veins bulge. Pre-cum slicks her palm. Eyes lock mine, hungry. Kneels. Mouth opens. Heart thunders. Danger forgotten. Only need now. Urgency burns. She owns me.
Her lips seal around my shaft. Full length vanishes down her throat. No gag. Tight, wet vacuum. Cheeks hollow. Sucks hard. Tongue swirls head. I groan. Hips buck. She pins me to wall. Hands claw ass. Pulls deeper. Saliva drips. Balls tighten. Sweat beads skin. Heart pounds like drum. Fire spreads groin. She devours. Rhythm savage. Up, down, relentless. Glands throb. Pressure builds explosive. ‘Scully… gonna cum!’ She amps suction. Eyes water. No escape. Floodgates burst. Rope after rope erupts. Thick, endless spurts. She gulps greedy. Doesn’t stop. Drains deeper. Cum turns endless. Body weakens. Legs buckle. Pain stabs gut. Something wrong. Too much. She’s stealing life. Eyes flash red. I push. She clings. World spins. Emptied. Vision blurs.