#hah. my 1am humor is back!!!!

[saturfied]

what do you call satss that consume jeffy content on an hourly basis? oversaturated.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

The Moon

the series read as follows:

Superman … Monday … Cheezy Pouffs … Bacon … Stumbling … Trail Mix …  Punch … Friday … Preparation … Uncle Mudler … Normal … Backseat … Mudler-sense … The FBI … Unthinkable … Patience … Elephant Jokes … Cooking … Rickety Tables … Mr. Skimmer … Bert and Ernie ... Midnight Confessions

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There’s some stuff at the end .. fun stuff .. stuff the cat said was inappropriate for virgin eyes ... I told her to go take a nap ...

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Frustration won.

Growling in the darkness, heart racing, mind flying, she banged the mattress with balled-up fists, “stop. I’m sorry. Can you stop?”

Mulder, having felt her getting nowhere fast and the tension building up accordingly, slowed, then stopped his fingers, burying his lips above her ear, whispering through a kiss, “can’t stop thinking, can you?” Wiggling her hips slightly, she waited for him to remove his hand before she dropped her forearm across her eyes, not daring to look at her partner in that moment, choosing dark embarrassment over honest concern. Mulder, however, wasn’t having any of it, reaching up to gently pull her arm away, “hey, it’s okay.”

Groaning now, she hauled herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet resting on bedframe, elbows on knees, head in hand, “really? Because it feels fairly annoying to me.”

1am had its good moments and 1am had its bad moments, “I’m just telling you what I think and I think that maybe you went looking to forget a little too fast.”

“Are you honestly going to psychoanalyze me in the middle of the night?”

“Nope.” He stood up, then took her hand, a little rougher than usual but feeling it necessary to get her to move, “come on.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“To find you some chocolate ice cream and me a can of root beer. I’m making floats and you can’t stop me.”

Resisting as well as she could, she lost when he practically pulled her from the bed, bare feet providing the traction she couldn’t get on soft sheets a moment earlier. Stumbling slightly, she gave in by the time they reached the top of the stairs, asking him quietly to slow down, “I don’t want to fall down the steps.”

He put the brakes on, “sorry,” as he carefully stepped down, “forgot it was dark.” Once in the kitchen, however, he sat her in a stool at the island and leaning across it, “sexual frustration is easier when both parties get to deal with it. I am going to make you a root beer float, then we are going to take a deep breath while I discuss something with you.”

At that moment, she was teetering on the edge. One direction was complete and total annoyance with her partner, ready to yell and chase him out of the house annoyance while the other side of the line held compliance, slight self-depricating humor and ice cream blended with ‘I adore you’ perfection.

She chose the ice cream side.

Propping her chin in her hands, she finally took a deep breath, “will you at least wash your hands first?”

He liked when she chose the ice cream side.

With a small smile, he nodded, “probably not a bad idea considering where these hands have been in the last hour.”

Spontaneous smiles were good, “just be quiet and make me dessert, would you?”

&&&&&&&&&

Soon, he had settled beside her, spooning ice cream concoction from glass to mouth, “so, are you ready for our discussion?”

He made the world better, in every sense, “I think so. Just … don’t be too honest with me. It’s too late or too early for that.”

“How about I do just the right amount of honesty?” Once she involuntarily crooked an eyebrow for a second, he continued, “you need to listen though, absorb, remember, understand?”

“Yes, for the love of God, now will you just tell me.”

Twisting her chin to meet her gaze, “I am happy. I am happy with you. I am happy that sometime in the next 20 years, we may get married. I am happy that sometime in the next 20 years, we may have a dog or a cat or even a set of hermit crabs. I am happy that it’s me and you. I am happy just the way we are. I would be happy if we spent a bunch of money on trying to have a baby. I am happy if we don’t spend a bunch of money on trying to have a baby. I am happy if we buy a house. I am happy if we only ever buy a mattress big enough for two. I am happy if we get fat from eating ice cream and collect pictures of Big Foot and things by Van Gogh.” Seeing her hanging on his words, he went in for the kill, “I am happy with you.” Enjoying her absorbing look, he continued, “I have only ever wanted you. Everything and anything else is proverbial icing on the cake. I never should have ventured into territory like that when I knew you were exhausted and I was an idiot as well for not realizing that when you asked for a way to forget, you were really asking for what I just told you.”

“You have me analyzed down to the atom, don’t you?”

“Nope. Would never even attempt. You’re too complicated and beautiful and confusing and catastrophically brilliant for that but I will hover around the edges and try to remember when you need a root beer float and a cuddle versus when you need reality-altering sex.”

She truly wanted to be annoyed by this whole snowball of events but when she stopped, she discovered he was so damn close to the truth, it hurt. Three spoonfuls of silence passed between them before she gave him a hint of smile, “this float needs red M&Ms.”

With an ‘ah-hah’ finger in the air, he turned, rummaged in a dish, then sent a red M&M sailing across the granite towards her, “will this do?”

Eyes widening in delight, “where did you get that and how did you get it so quick?”

Thumbing over his shoulder, “the kids and I made M&M brownies a few days back and we ate them all so you didn’t get any, not sorry by the way ‘cause they were phenomenal, but I had Betsy and Toby sort the red ones out for me, then they just went and did all the colors for fun.”

“Did you sort them out just for us?”

“Of course. We both need a red M&M every once in a while and might as well have them at the ready.”

Getting up, she beckoned him to her height with a crooked finger and a smile, “you are an odd duck, Agent Mulder.”

“Do you like odd ducks?”

“I happen to love odd ducks.” Finally meeting his mouth, she tasted ice cream and sugar, “and I think I would like to take a leisurely trip out to the hammocks, maybe remove some of these clothes in the process.”

“Trying to forget again?”

Honest blue meeting questioning green, “just trying to have some sex in a hammock.”

“That sounds like the title of a biography.”

Finishing her last spoonful of ice cream, “just get outside, would you or I’ll have to go do it myself.”

Grin spreading, “think it’ll work?”

“Never hurts to try.”

&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Scully whispered this as loud as she thought appropriate, given neighbor proximity and listening crickets. She had her hand over Mulder’s hand, which was holding his left jaw, at the exact spot where she’d just kicked him, hard, with her bare foot.

Conventional sex in a hammock was deemed impossible, Scully’s body folded at a weird angle, Mulder’s body not containing the proper, youth-enhanced muscles of years past to make a good, old-fashioned mission position work. Instead, Scully directed Mulder to lay down, v-ing his body and bringing the necessary parts close enough to the deck, sagging the material to the exact height of Scully’s necessary parts.

She carefully swung her leg over both hammock and waiting body, hands firmly on chest as she positioned, re-positioned and finally sank down on him, both more than ready for the sex to ensue.

Mid-rise, mid-move, mid-lean, all hell broke loose.

Mulder forgot to hold still, Scully forgot to move only up and down, both forgot they were on a narrow  piece of material that, when more than a quarter inch off-center, would flip and twist wildly, depositing whoever is doing whatever onto the ground.

Scully tried to save them, putting one foot down harder than the other, valiant effort all for naught … as the whole hammock kept going, Mulder’s weight a pendulum swing of naked motion. She thought enough to lift off him as not to break his parts but in doing so, brought her leg forward and smashed directly into Mulder’s jaw.

Neither ever would have assumed her legs were long enough to reach his face but reach they did and well, there was now a de-clothed Mulder lying on the deck, on his side, cross-pipe digging into his back while Scully crouched beside him, equally sans pajamas, doing her best not to giggle in mortification.

“Are you okay?”

Not real happy in that second, “what do you think?”

Her giggling was winning, her face turning red, her shoulders beginning to shake, “I think we should have stuck to the kitchen.”

Mulder scooted over to clear the pipe, “get over here, Scully.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, get over here because from down here, there is this streak of moonlight going across your left nipple and it’s working for me and I can’t fall down any further than this so come here please and let’s finish what this fucking hammock isn’t letting us.”

Knees be damned, she grinned and climbed back on, bare ass facing the neighbor’s side door, “I like how moonlight does it for you.”

“Tell me something about the Moon.”

“It isn’t round. It’s shaped like an egg.”

Hands on thighs, he ignored the throbbing in his jaw, “another.”

Eyes closed, head drifting back, “the moon has no twilight because it has no atmosphere. Day to night happens instantly.”

Moving quickly towards the inevitable, he bit his lip, thumbs finding purchase on jutting hipbones as she sped her rise and fall substantially, “I love you in twilight.”

Tightening muscles brought her to the edge, “I love you anywhere, anytime.”

“I’d take you to the moon if I could.”

Coming around him, with him, she leaned over, finally able to reach his lips without falling, kissing him hard, “I’m perfect right here.”