Étiquette : gillovny rpf

Gillovny prompt for you jhh: I remember you said you have a denial theory that Gillovny is doing all that with PM and MP so they can come out later as a new couple and the press won’t ask about their past. Could you maybe turn this theory into a fanfic? Thank you! <3

It’s been a year since they agreed on this. The decision was made quickly, he feels like he didn’t even have his word to say. They expressed their desire to come out, they explained their worries, some guy in a five fingers black suit found a solution in three steps. “Easy,” he said. Gillian said “yes,” his lawyer signed a paper, her lawyer signed it too, they shook hands and it was done. “Easy,” he repeated to himself.

It was “easy,” at least in the beginning. They found the perfect guy, British but not really, divorced but not really, the type of guy she could be attracted to. But not really. He felt odd when he had to let her go with him the first time, but he got used to it. It was the first step, his own first step, actually. He had to learn to share. Ceremony after ceremony, he had to watch the love of his life show herself with another man.

Jealous would be an understatement to define him. He’s possessive, territorial even. But her sweet words and soft touches never failed to reassure him. He was the one and the only one for her. He convinced himself that he could live like that a little more. It was for the best. Even after a certain day of June, when she called him in tears to apologize for what she called “an unfortunate accident”, he still thought it was the right thing to do. It was his turn to reassure her, to tell her it was okay and to renew his trust in her.

But if he was being honest with himself, he knew it wasn’t okay. Something has changed between them, and he feared it was forever. He made it to a new step. He had to learn to live without watching, reading, listening, caring. He had to rely on trust and only on trust, even though when he closed his eyes at night, this picture haunted his dreams turning them into terrible nightmares. Even today, when he finds himself on his knees in a moment of pure intimacy, with his hands on her hips, he has to take a deep breath and chase the ghost of Italy away before he strips her down. She knows, he can see it. He can tell that her lips say “I love you,” but her eyes say “I’m sorry.” They usually take twenty-five years to resolve their issues and he isn’t sure they have twenty-five more years to resolve this one. It was supposed to make them happier, to allow them to live their life normally, as a couple and as individuals too. But it’s consuming them slowly from the inside. Day after day, the sparkle in her eyes faded. Her smile became sad. Her demeanor more severe. She was happy to work with him, he could tell. But every time she had a new appearance scheduled with “him”, he could feel her apprehension and reluctancy weeks before the D-day.

He tried to negotiate with the guy in a fancy suit. Maybe what she did was enough already. Maybe it could stop now. They could skip the second step and launch the final one. The happy one. But he “knew his job”, and he had to “trust him.” So David threw himself in the second step. He picked a girl. Young but not really, smart but not really, sweet but not really. The kind of girl everyone expected him to be with, according to fancy-suit.
Oddly, it made Gillian laugh to see whom they had chosen for him. She seemed to have found a second breath. Maybe it’s because they shared the attention now. “Where’s your girlfriend?” she used to tease him. She bought him Viagra once, and they laughed heartedly for an hour.  

But soon, it’ll be his turn to play his part more seriously. It’ll be her turn to rely on trust. To live without watching, reading, listening. Soon, they won’t live in their own bubble anymore. There won’t be no apartment where they can hold each other at night, no trailer where they can have a few minutes break just the two of them, no private places where they can talk through all of this. He hopes with all his heart they can make it to the final step but he’s afraid of what will be left of them and how long it’ll take to rebuild the new shape of their relationship.
“It’s gonna be easy,” he lies in her ear as she falls asleep in his arms.

Oh good choices and yours are among my favorite too but my favorite is Moving Forward and what you two did with that great masterpiece. And I think it takes a lot of dedication to write for this long time! So I wanted to take this oppurtunity to say thank you to all writers but especialy for writing something with so many chapters and the two of you getting better and better with every chapter! Gillovny rpf is good stuff today!

Oh, I didn’t mention Moving Forward because I was sure @annikoxfiles knows it already but it’s indeed one of my favorite, if not my favorite! So thank you, anon, but it’s all @sembell! My input is very small, and I basically just push for more and more sex and get delighted to have the privilege to read it first. That’s basically it. 😀

Birthday Parents (4/4)

sembell:

A series of drabbles based on the request:
Can you write something for Gillian’s and David’s birthday with Eaden and her siblings, please? Maybe in the Vancouver house.

This is the last part of the installment. Thank you all so much for your nice words, and I really hope you enjoyed these little drabbles as much as I loved writing them. I’m so happy we can enjoy this madness together 🙂

Part I – Part II – Part III

Gillian’s 49th birthday was the best day in a very long time, and the first birthday Eaden would remember for the rest of her life.

Despite having done their best to hide their struggles from their little daughter, the last couple of months had been difficult in many ways, and had not failed to leave their marks on all of them, but especially on Eaden.

There had been days and nights Eaden had found her mother crying in bed or locked in the bathroom for no apparent reason other than being… incredibly sad. Weeks in which she’d slept alone in bed with her father, because Mommy was miles and miles away in London. It was safe to say that Eaden had spent the majority of the year with just one of them than with both together, and in the end, it had affected her more than David and Gillian had ever wanted.

It was only by the end of July that there finally, finally seemed to be a light at the end of the horizon again. Being only three years old, she couldn’t put it into big words, but after her parents had left her at her grandmothers house for a week before travelling to Vancouver, she was able to feel it again – the joy and happiness between them, the lightness… and a lot a lot a lot of love. Maybe it was exactly just that, and no big words were needed after all.

Gillian’s birthday was a day that started early in the morning, with Eaden sneaking into her parents’ bedroom on tiptoes way before dawn, only to find them already awake, giggling and kissing underneath the covers. Surprised by their unexpected little visitor, it took them a visit to the bathroom, a change into pyjamas, and for David a quick look at his phone to finally come back to bed and spend the next two hours cuddling and snoozing together.

Well equipped with her green little backpack, Eaden arrived on set with her nanny by noon to a red-haired Gillian and a birthday party with dozens of people celebrating both David and Gillian. A dark chocolate and a butternut cake in the shape of a guitar and lots and lots of frosting, so delicious you just needed to try both, had to be kept save from a very greedy Brick lingering around.

Dinner took place later that evening at a nice, cozy little restaurant. Eaden, always the eager little waitress, not only served Gillian’s gifts on a tray, but, with the help of Piper, also the sweetest, most intense birthday speech a three year old could possibly deliver. But nothing could’ve prepared Gillian for the words that hit her so deeply she wasn’t able to breathe for a couple of moments. Words that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

“Mommy, you are the very most kind person I know, and you are so bwave. Piper and Daddy and me hope your pwesents make you really, really happy!”

And boy did they make her happy, because they reminded her that she was the luckiest woman on earth for having these wonderful, thoughtful human beings in her life who were loving her way farther than to the moon and back.  

Later that night, David and Gillian sat at Eaden’s bedside, caressing her face, holding her hands, and listening to her sleepy voice telling them about her exciting, wonderful day, and watching her little lips curl up into a content smile as they told her how loved she was.

They were still sitting with her when she’d already fallen asleep, both of them unable to take their eyes off their sweet little girl, whose happiness meant the world to them.

There had been times in the last couple of months when it had felt like she was the only reason they could think of that was worth fighting for. But now, as they were sitting there in silence with their fingers entwined, they knew in their hearts that there were so many more.

Aftermath memories

justholdinghandsok:

Gillovny RPF

Thank you so much to @sembell for the beta-reading. 

It’s set after The Webbies and it is totally NSFW.

Their tight schedule didn’t allow them the necessary time of together-loneliness they were used to have after a long period without seeing each-other. The first time he saw her after those long three weeks of deprivation was in the middle of a crowd, on a red carpet, flashes dazzling his eyes and preventing him from seeing her whole.

He knew about her crutches, but seeing her like that melted his heart. She looked like a fragile little nestling who had just fallen from its nest. He wanted to hold her, help her, lift her so she didn’t have to put her tiny little feet on the floor anymore. He would have if they’d been alone and if he wasn’t injured himself.

This is so sad, he thought. No one would buy that they injured themselves separately. And yet, it was the truth. Talking about soulmates…

It was a long day. Being with her, standing next to her, and not be able to touch her, to tell her how much he missed her, how much he loved her. He would have given everything for a few seconds alone with her, but that didn’t happen. They separated after their X-Files duties, as she liked to call them, and saw each other again when he surprised her on stage to give her a well-deserved, yet totally unknown award. It was a very special moment, the two of them on stage, disabled but glowing with happiness. They were in their own bubble for five minutes, but then they had to separate again.

It was only a few minutes after midnight that she rang at his door and they finally found their way to the bedroom. With his arm and her foot, it was slower than it usual. He used to joke about their relationship being based on logistics; well, it seemed like it had extended even to their lovemaking.

Missionary wasn’t possible with his arm, but doggy-style hurt her foot. They opted for a tender spooning from behind, but his sling stopped him from keeping her close to him. He could tell she liked it, but not enough for her to climax. He would have finished her with his mouth if he hadn’t just come inside her. He apologized, she said it was okay, he knew it wasn’t. No, really, this was so sad. They were so old.

“Remember the time we fucked everywhere and all the time?” he now says, sounding defeated.  His head is gently resting on her upper arm, his lips softly caressing the side of her breast.

“Remember the first time we did it?” she asks in return, her fingers slowly running through his hair.

“It’s not something I could ever forget,“ he grins, raising his brows to look at her. How could he? They’ve been filming all night under fake, yet freezing rain. He’d invited her inside his trailer for tea and they ended up together under his tiny shower. That’s the story he should have told earlier on this stage instead of this ridiculous baseball-thing he made-up while waiting backstage. “You were so cute,” he adds, remembering how young and inexperienced she was.

“And you were so hard,” she teases, raising her knee against his soft cock. He nibbles the flesh of her breast as a vengeance, making her chuckle. “What’s your favorite memory of me?” she wants to know, suddenly sounding very serious.

“You mean, in bed?” he asks and she nods with a grin. “Back then or recently?” He feels like he needs to ask. He always needs to separate their relationship in two periods of time. “Back then” meaning from when they met to when they stopped working with each other, which means from when they started dating each other, to when they couldn’t stop fucking each other, to when they hurt each other so badly they had to go separate ways even if it was jeopardizing their career. “Recently” meaning from when they started fucking again, just because they’ weren’t able not to fuck, to when they realized they could actually date, to a few years ago, when he told her she was the woman of his life and he never loved anyone as much as he loved her and she crumbled into his arms, stammering “me too”. “Recently” was his favorite period.

Afficher davantage

Aftermath memories

Gillovny RPF

Thank you so much to @sembell for the beta-reading. 

It’s set after The Webbies and it is totally NSFW.

Their tight schedule didn’t allow them the necessary time of together-loneliness they were used to have after a long period without seeing each-other. The first time he saw her after those long three weeks of deprivation was in the middle of a crowd, on a red carpet, flashes dazzling his eyes and preventing him from seeing her whole.

He knew about her crutches, but seeing her like that melted his heart. She looked like a fragile little nestling who had just fallen from its nest. He wanted to hold her, help her, lift her so she didn’t have to put her tiny little feet on the floor anymore. He would have if they’d been alone and if he wasn’t injured himself.

This is so sad, he thought. No one would buy that they injured themselves separately. And yet, it was the truth. Talking about soulmates…

It was a long day. Being with her, standing next to her, and not be able to touch her, to tell her how much he missed her, how much he loved her. He would have given everything for a few seconds alone with her, but that didn’t happen. They separated after their X-Files duties, as she liked to call them, and saw each other again when he surprised her on stage to give her a well-deserved, yet totally unknown award. It was a very special moment, the two of them on stage, disabled but glowing with happiness. They were in their own bubble for five minutes, but then they had to separate again.

It was only a few minutes after midnight that she rang at his door and they finally found their way to the bedroom. With his arm and her foot, it was slower than it usual. He used to joke about their relationship being based on logistics; well, it seemed like it had extended even to their lovemaking.

Missionary wasn’t possible with his arm, but doggy-style hurt her foot. They opted for a tender spooning from behind, but his sling stopped him from keeping her close to him. He could tell she liked it, but not enough for her to climax. He would have finished her with his mouth if he hadn’t just come inside her. He apologized, she said it was okay, he knew it wasn’t. No, really, this was so sad. They were so old.

“Remember the time we fucked everywhere and all the time?” he now says, sounding defeated.  His head is gently resting on her upper arm, his lips softly caressing the side of her breast.

“Remember the first time we did it?” she asks in return, her fingers slowly running through his hair.

“It’s not something I could ever forget,“ he grins, raising his brows to look at her. How could he? They’ve been filming all night under fake, yet freezing rain. He’d invited her inside his trailer for tea and they ended up together under his tiny shower. That’s the story he should have told earlier on this stage instead of this ridiculous baseball-thing he made-up while waiting backstage. “You were so cute,” he adds, remembering how young and inexperienced she was.

“And you were so hard,” she teases, raising her knee against his soft cock. He nibbles the flesh of her breast as a vengeance, making her chuckle. “What’s your favorite memory of me?” she wants to know, suddenly sounding very serious.

“You mean, in bed?” he asks and she nods with a grin. “Back then or recently?” He feels like he needs to ask. He always needs to separate their relationship in two periods of time. “Back then” meaning from when they met to when they stopped working with each other, which means from when they started dating each other, to when they couldn’t stop fucking each other, to when they hurt each other so badly they had to go separate ways even if it was jeopardizing their career. “Recently” meaning from when they started fucking again, just because they’ weren’t able not to fuck, to when they realized they could actually date, to a few years ago, when he told her she was the woman of his life and he never loved anyone as much as he loved her and she crumbled into his arms, stammering “me too”. “Recently” was his favorite period.

“Both,” she says.

“Well…“ he raises on his good elbow. The view from here was a little disturbing. She was really beautiful with her blond hair spread on his brown pillow, her piercing blue eyes looking straight into his soul and her pink and perky nipples demanding nothing but to be sucked. Focus, he thought. “The first time was really good, but excuse me if I’m sounding a bit egoistic: I’d have to go with the limo after the Globes.

“We didn’t…” she stops herself to think back.

“I know! But even today, I can say it was the best blowjob of my entire life.”

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. You were tipsy, and so was I, and I knew the driver could see us, which made the situation so fucking hot! And that moment when you spilled some Champaign on my dick and licked it off… Woosh! I can still feel the bubbles when I close my eyes.” Which he does, and licks his lips, lost in his reverie.

Her thigh is still pressed against his crotch. She must feel that he isn’t as soft as he was a few minutes ago. Yes, she feels it. If not, she wouldn’t raise her leg like that to increase the pressure.

“And recently?” she asks, her voice a little raspier than earlier, pulling him out of his awaken-wet-dream.

“Remember that failed threesome we had five or six years ago?” She nods. It’s not like she can forget that. It was her idea, and he finally agreed to please her. The other girl wanted to have sex with him, and she basically ended up watching them making love. Gillian didn’t let her touch him and when she was tired of telling her where to put her fingers or what to lick, she was urged to stay on the couch. They still don’t know at what exact moment she left the room, but the scratch she made on his black, brand new BMW on her way out stayed there forever. “That’s a good souvenir. That’s when I knew I was yours.”

“Because I didn’t allow her to blow you?”

“Because you’ve rejected a 22 year old, fully waxed pussy for my old dick.”

“What the f…” she slaps his good arm playfully, and he exaggerates a fall to end up flat on his back, bringing her with him. She lays above him, his injured arm between them, his half-hardness settled on her pubic hair.

She bites into his lower lip, the tip of her tongue darting out to soothe the pain and her hips starts to rock against him slowly in anticipation.

“Uh uh, it’s your turn, woman!” he steadies her hips and raises a little to keep his mouth unreachable for her. “Best memory back then?” he asks as she falls on her side, her chin resting on his chest.

“Hm…” she thinks, or actually pretends to think. He can tell she’s embarrassed by the way she circles his nipple absently. “Remember that afternoon, when you were upset and you came into my trailer, and things got a little wilder than expected?”

“Yeah, that was basically every afternoon for seven years, honey!”

“No, but this time, it went REALLY wild. Remember?” He doesn’t. He REALLY doesn’t, and he needs more clues, but he can tell she’s too shy to tell what’s on her mind. It must’ve been very dirty, but when wasn’t it?

“Go ahead! Be more specific, ‘cause I don’t know what you’re talking about now.”

“That one time, it was my first time… You know… The first time… when you kinda…” He can see she wishes he would read her mind. It happens all the time, after all. But not when she really needs it, apparently. He just shakes his head and waits for her to give him more details. “…took me from… behind.” she finally says, almost in a whisper.

“Oh! That time!” he exclaims. Of course he remembers that. It was one of those warm afternoons when nothing went the way he wanted. They were tired, frustrated and angry at each other for whatever reasons. Fucking their problems away was everything they were able to do with each other, and this time, it did go a little wilder than usual and they were both very surprised and pleased to see she could orgasm that way too. “Good old times, when you liked it this way,” he sighs, teasing her and squeezing her butt cheek. “You know, if it’s your best memory, I think we should…”

“In your dreams, Duchovny.” He pouts, hopeless. Why a woman loves something one day and suddenly stops enjoying it the next morning remains a mystery to him. “I never understood why you liked it so much.”

He could tell her the truth, he could tell her that it was an empowering thing, a dominating behavior of the alpha male that he was, or at least wanted to be. A way to possess her in every sense. Knowing he was the first and the only one allowed to do that to her made him feel special and unique. But he’d better just tell her half of the truth.

“Your ass was simply perfect, I couldn’t resist!” She gives him a look and he knows he said something wrong. She isn’t buying it. Or, wait… “IS. It IS! Your ass IS perfect!” Better. He really has overcome his alpha male issues, he thinks. She’s the boss now, everyone knows it, and he doesn’t care at all. “Okay. How about recently?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “There’s a lot of good memories. Remember that time we had sex and we were both injured and it was a total fiasco, but then you made it up and gave me two… no, three strong orgasms? That’s my favorite.” She smiles widely at him, obviously very proud of herself.

“Hey! That wasn’t a total fiasco!” he protests as he feels her hips start to rock again.

“Speak for yourself! You left me hanging, and I’m still waiting, you know!”

He lifts her invalid leg, making sure her foot doesn’t touch anything too roughly, and turns them over so he lays on top of her.

“Mmh, nice,” she teases. “Maybe you’re not so old, after all.”

“Let me show you how old I am,” he says, extricating himself from his sling and throws it away. He can tell she’s going to protest by the look she’s giving him. “I’ll wear it a few extra days. It’s worth it.” he states before capturing her lips between his to prevent her from saying something.

Her hand reaches between them to wrap around his now fully erect dick and starts to stroke him as he moans his pleasure against her lips. He feels the heat of her center. She’s still wet from their previous, failed encounter, and by the way she guides him inside her, she lets him know she isn’t in the mood for foreplay.

It’s so different than an hour ago, when he struggled to push his cock inside her. She’s soaked now, and he’s so deep that his balls slap against her anus with every thrust. The sounds she makes are louder and so much more arousing. They’re nothing compared to the rattle she made earlier when she was upset about not finding the right position. She bites her lip in anticipation when he pulls out, and forms a silent scream when he pushes back that ends up in a loud moan once he’s fully inside her. So he does it again, and again.

When she gets used to his rhythm, he breaks it and she scratches his back in protestation, but her touch lightens when he slides his thick cock between her lower lips.

“You’re okay? Wanna change the position?” he asks thoughtfully.

“I’m good,” she says, almost like a complaint. “Shut up and fuck me, old man!”

“Old man, uh?” He raises a brow. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Am I?” she teases.

“Yeah,” he whispers as he slaps his dick flat on her throbbing clit.

Her back arches and he can see a loud grunt forming in her throat and escaping her lips in an incoherent swear. Her throat is so pale and looks so soft, he can’t resist and licks it from the root of her collarbone to her chin that he softly bites to bring her back here, with him. As he locks his eyes with hers, he pushes his dick inside her again, deep, so deep that her muscles clench around him and soon, he’s her very own prisoner. It’s the best punishment a man can dream of. He’s a sinner, and she’s finally captured him and will never let go of him. He doesn’t want to go anywhere, anyway. He belongs here, with her, inside her.

For a few seconds, maybe more, she doesn’t allow him to move. His cock is squeezed between her muscles and it hurts so good.

“Who’s paying now?” she asks, and he just realizes that her nails are digging into the flesh of his butt.

“God, I’m really not sure,” he answers sincerely. If that’s her way to torture him, he’s willing to be at her mercy for the rest of his life.

She chuckles and releases him with a sigh. It’s like she was holding everything back and he can feel her gushing around him now. She’s wet. So wet and so warm and he’s going to fuck her so good that he needs to tell her. So he leans down and whispers into her ear.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard now.”

It seems like his words have sent a surge through her body, because he has barely moved, and yet she’s rooting her clit against his crotch, desperately trying to release some pressure.

“Let me on top.” She’s not asking, she’s not negotiating, she’s ordering. And he obeys, careful not to hurt her foot but making sure he doesn’t have to pull out. There’s no way he’d pull out now. She feels way too good and he never wants to not be in her anymore.

“You’re okay?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she raises on his dick and takes all of him as she sits back down. It takes all the strength he has to not come right now, at the sight of her breasts jumping up and down, and the lascivious moves of her hips. He tries to follow her rhythm, but she keeps speeding up. She’s the boss, he remembers, and she’s working hard on making herself come, so he just lets her lean on his chest, her clit rubbing on his pubic hair with every thrust down, her nipples trapped between his thumbs and forefingers. He pinches harder and harder, rolls them between his fingers as he watches her intensely, waiting for her climax to overtake her. One more thrust and she’s gone. She falls onto him with a loud scream of what could or couldn’t be his name, he isn’t sure, and it happens again. A second orgasm, or an aftershock, he isn’t sure. But he knows it’s strong, her muscles clench hard around his cock, so hard that they force him out of her. She’s lying flat over him, unable to catch her breath, and he misses her already. Her warmth, her wetness, her tightness. He didn’t make it with her. He was too mesmerized by the intensity of her pleasure. She was too beautiful, too surreal and yet, so very real.

“You pushed me out,” he complains, when he feels her breath slowing down a little.

“I’m sorry,” she chuckles. “That was…”

“Good?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, and kisses him deeply, her tongue chasing his in his mouth. “You’re still hard.” She finally notices, probably feeling his dick twitching against her ass, gently slapping her cheeks.

He nods with a smile and suddenly, her mouth isn’t on his anymore.

It’s on his neck, biting at that spot under his ear, the one that is always red, no matter what. It’s around his left nipple, and he’s sure she can feel his heart beating for her on her lips now.

It’s on his stomach and it traces the shape of his abs.

It’s on the side of his groin, licking off the droplets of sweat that were forming there.

It’s around his pulsing dick, her tongue swirling around its tip, then swallowing him hard until he can’t breathe anymore.

The images of the limo come back to his mind again. That blowjob. The best of his entire life. He remembers how he was holding her head with his two hands, and how he was pushing his dick into her warm mouth. One more thing she used to like and doesn’t enjoy anymore. Now he knows better than holding her head while she’s down there. But it’s hard to go against a drive. His fist clenches so hard that it hurts. The muscles of his biceps are so tense, he can see his veins pulsing through his skin. She watches every muscle of his body contracting, and she looks like she loves what she’s seeing. That’s the effect she has on him every time she does that. It leaves him sore for days like a good session of Pilates does.

Good for her if she’s enjoying the view. So is he. Her red lips all wrapped around his cock, her cheeks flushed and swollen with him inside her mouth. The feeling of her tongue against his veins. The tight pressure of her fingers at his base, and the soft massage of his balls. The hard suction, the sweet release and that thing she does with her tongue on his head before taking him a little deeper each time. He would wish for it to last forever if he didn’t want to come so hard.

His hips jolt with pleasure, and he slightly thrusts into her mouth. He just can’t help it. It feels so good. She strokes him hard now, still sucking. He couldn’t be harder, his dick is red, he can see it. He’s so close, he’s not sure if he can let go like that. Maybe he needs to warn her.

“Baby?” he tries. He never calls her that. Honey sometimes. Sweetheart. My love. Bird. But baby? Never. She looks at him and smiles around him. Oh god.

A few months ago, he tried some special chocolates for the first time. He remembers physically seeing the high coming to him from afar and overpowering him. He feels the same right now. As if a ball of intense and pure pleasure is coming from the other side of the room to smash his head and take the wheel of his body for a few seconds.

The release is so good and powerful it almost leaves him unconscious for a moment. He can’t see, he can’t smell, he can’t hear. He can’t breathe. But soon, all his senses are coming back to him, one after another. The musky scent of their sexing mixed with her perfume and his. His hard breathing, and the sound of his growl still vibrating in his head. And she, naked and perfect, water flowing between her breasts from the bottle she’s drinking from.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pulling her towards him and laying her on her side to spoon her. “You’re amazing, and I love you,” he whispers into her ear. He knows that in a few seconds, he’ll be asleep. That’s something he’d never managed to fight, not even in his thirties.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back, so low he barely hears it.

 She intertwines their fingers and he settles his softening cock against her ass. He’s already starting to feel sleepy.

“Tomorrow, I’ll make you like it in the ass again,” he slurs and closes his eyes.

“In your dreams, Duchovny.”

David does show the picture of his girlfriend. He says « Look at my lady here. Isn’t she beautiful? She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s not long-leg tanned brunette, she’s so tiny I could put her in my pocket. I love the way she says my name. She says « Daavid » instead of « David ». When I asked her why she does that, she said « This way I can say it longer and that makes me happy. I love your name. » I love how crazy she is about art and decorations. She bought me colorful happy 1/?

pillows and got me a painting of two kissing dogs. She said it reminds her of us. I love the way she can’t sing at all but sings all the time. Especially Adele. God, just thinking of her singing Adele makes me smile. She’s so adorable. She has such beautiful hands. I know, normally you’re not attracted by someone’s hands but I am. She’s raised children with those tiny hands and that’s incredible to me. I love how clumsy she is. Although my heart stops every time she falls down because I’m so afraid she hurt herself, when I hear her laughter, I sigh with relief. You know what else is so special about her? Her pure talent. You could say it’s normal since she’s famous but it’s not. Her talent is out of this world. I am so proud when I hear people saying she’s so talented and good. I watched her grow and I can’t believe I witnessed it all. You know what else I love about my girl? The fact that I can say it. My girl. My beautiful talented girl. My tiny Gillian.“

–

Yas! That’s how I like my fanfics! ❤

Reconnection

Gillovny RPF

Thank you so so much to @sembell for her excellent beta-reading! I love you!

(Slightly NSFW)

How did the time pass so quickly, she wonders. It feels like he crossed the door three seconds ago, but here they are, at four in the morning, in the massive garden of her rental house, surrounded by the noises of the nature, monkeys hiding in the trees, invisible insects singing in their ears and probably one snake or two crawling nearby.

It’s been a few weeks since they’ve seen each other. In other circumstances, they would be in bed already, trying to shush each other not to wake up all the children sleeping everywhere in the house. Maybe they’re getting old, she thinks. He has invited her to have a last drink outside, after dinner, after the boys went to bed, and the older ones went out. He wanted to enjoy the silence, just with her, for a couple of minutes before they “reconnected”. That’s the way they call their endless love making after a long period of separation.

But the couple of minutes became an hour, the hour turned into three, and the last drink turned into the whole bottle of Costa Rica red wine. She doesn’t drink, except when she’s at ease with someone she trusts more than herself, which means no one but him. Two glasses are usually enough to get her tipsy, so he happily drank the rest of the bottle. Finally, after six years of a complicated but beautiful relationship, they’ve found another way to “reconnect”.

She tells him about her difficulties with her boys. They’re getting older, tiny little men, as he likes to call them. They demand more independence but they’re still her babies, and it’s tough for her to find her place in their lives. He tells her about West, his struggles between allowing her to make her own mistakes and preventing her from the dangers all teenagers her age are confronted with. He told her he wished her daughter would have come with him. She reassures him. She knows what it’s like to raise a girl. She knows there’s a complicated phase, but it’s just a phase. It passes.

As the discussion goes, time passes. Piper and her friends come back and go straight to bed, avoiding the judgmental look Gillian would have given them if they stood too close to her, smelling their breath or seeing their eyes.

The moon is bright and high in the sky, and it’s so late that even the animals around them have gone silent.

It’s time to get up and go to bed, she thinks. Time for the old fashion way of reconnecting. But her head spins and his back hurts after sitting for such a long time. They’re indeed getting old.

As soon as she lays down, her eyes close and sleep invades her. She doesn’t need more anyway. She feels warm and safe knowing he’s just here besides her. Smelling his scent and hearing him breathing is enough for tonight. She feels his large arm enveloping her waist, a soft kiss being dropped on her bare shoulder, and a muffled “I love you” is whispered into her ear. She’s falling asleep.

Is someone knocking at the door? Is it for real, or only in her dream? Why is he moving? She felt so good with her body pressed against his and her nose buried into his neck. Who is he talking to? She can’t proceed right now. What time is it anyway? 6? 9? Noon? Whoever you are, go away, close the door behind you and let me lay on top of him for the rest of my life, she thinks. Maybe they hear her. The door closes. “Go back to sleep, bird” she hears him say. That she can do.

He’s moving again. It’s sunny outside, she can feel it through her eyelid. The nature has woken up, and so does he, apparently. His lips trace the soft line of her neck to her collarbone and his large hands roam along the side of her thighs. She keeps her eyes closed, she doesn’t want to wake up yet. She fears if she moves he’ll stop, and she doesn’t want him to stop. He licks her stomach, just under her pierced navel, making her shiver. The kiss he drops on her center, over the lace of her panties, was unexpected and deeply appreciated, making her jump a little and finally, she opens her eyes.

His hair is messy, sticking out in every direction and the soft beard he grew during the night makes him look younger. Sexier. She helps him removing her underwear, lifting her butt from the mattress with a smirk and her eyes lock with his.

“What time is it?” she suddenly worries.

“They’re all gone to the beach, we’re alone.” he doesn’t answer her question and bites the insides of her thighs.

She doesn’t regret they didn’t do that last night. They would have had to be silent and careful when the only thing she wants is to lose herself in his mouth. She hadn’t known her back could contort itself like that before. Only the back of her head and the flat of her feet are in contact with the mattress. Her whole body levitates with pleasure as he devours her, swallowing every drop of her femininity. He raises on his knees between her thighs. He couldn’t be more handsome than this morning, lit by the rays of sunshine piercing through the shutters, naked and hard in every sense. His thick cock stands strong, pulsing and twitching as her eyes rove over it, and she bites her lower lip in anticipation and desire. He slides between her lips, presses against her oversensitive clit, and effortlessly slips inside her. She watches him moving, his muscles are contracted in ridges and his jaw is clenched. He’s already holding back, she can tell. He’s beautiful. She feels him inside her, but she wants to feel him all around her. She wants his heaviness above her, she needs his mouth, his tongue, his neck. She wants her hands on his skin, and his on hers. She pulls on his arms to drag him closer, and he speeds up once his face is buried in the crook between her neck and her shoulder. The friction of his groin on her clit sends her in heaven. No doubt she would have woken up everyone with the loud scream that now escapes her throat as she comes all around him, soon followed by his deep grunt and her “fucking Christ” chuckled against his cheek as he pulls out.

She kisses him just like she breathes. Without thinking about it, but needing it to survive. Her tongue melts with his, and her fingers caress the skin of his ribs.

“You okay?” he asks, probably tasting the tears that are running down her cheeks to die in their kisses.

“Yes,” she lies. “I’m sorry.”

He asks what’s happening without a word, just by raising her chin with his index finger and a piercing gaze.

“I missed you,”, she whispers, and the tears run faster. She hadn’t wanted that to happen. She has promised herself to hold back, at least for a few days before breaking down. But the shock of her strong orgasm has hit a nerve and her brain has shut down to allow her emotions, her hormones and her heart, to take the wheel. It’s never a good thing.

“I’m just tired missing you,” she sobs against his chest.

He tells her he knows, he tells her he misses her too. He holds her tight and reassures her as much as he can, but something breaks inside her when he says “soon”.

“Two more years. We can make it.”

Maybe he can, but she can’t. She doesn’t even want to. Spending two more years missing him, two more years of painful goodbyes and weeks of loneliness. Two more years of long-distance fights and desperate night calls.

She agrees anyway. It’s the beginning of the vacation, she can’t ruin it on the first day. She can’t do that to him. To them. But she knows, deep down, it could be their last one if they don’t come up with a better plan for their future.

She’s lost in her thoughts. She hasn’t noticed that he’s fumbling behind her back,making a racket with the nightstand.

“What are you doing?” she asks, wiping the tears from her eyes and shifts onto her back underneath him.

He doesn’t answer, but has finally found what he was looking for.

“Got it!” he exclaims with a shy smile on his face. Without more words puts a tiny, black velvet box on her naked stomach.

Never again

justholdinghandsok:

Gillovny Ficlet 

(NSFW)

The sun bathing his skin and her soft lips around his hard member feel like heaven. There’s nothing like a comfortable lounger on the poolside and losing yourself in the woman of your life’s mouth. The way she opens her eyes and her look pierces through his tinted glasses to reach his gaze when she almost lands at his base drives him crazy. That and the yummy sound escaping her throat and echoing on every fiber of his cock. Somehow, he has always considered this act as one of the biggest proofs of his love. It has been misinterpreted by some in the past, but never with her. He thinks there’s something sacred in a blowjob. He completely abandons himself to her and he allows her to take control, to overpower him. She could hurt him right now. She could severely injure him if she wanted to. She could also release him from this sweet torture any time she wants. She knows where to lick, how hard to suck, when to take him deep and how much time to spend on this spot, at the back of his tip, before he loses it. The most precious part of his body is all hers. He has confided his dick with her lips and his balls to her hand. How this could not be taken as a proof of love?

Oddly, it’s not her tongue swirling on his tip nor her middle finger pressing harder and harder against his ass hole that send him on the edge right now. After all, orgasms could be mostly cerebral, he thinks, because the friction of her hard nipple against his thigh and the sight of her hips raising and lowering as she rubs her sex against his shin eclipses everything else. He can even feel her wetness through the hairs of his leg and wishes he was flexible enough to reach her ass. He wishes he was mentally strong enough to make her stop and turn things around. But his body feels so heavy and weak at the same time. He belongs to her right now, she’s the one who decides when this will be over and how it’ll end.

He hopes it’ll never end.

“I’m done. Can I go now?” she asks with her fingers tightly wrapped around his base and her lips softly caressing the pulsing vein of his cock on every syllable.

He barely heard, his mind is dizzy and his ears are buzzing. He must have misunderstood. Where would she go, and why would she go now anyway? She likes to torture him sometimes, but not like that. Not while still holding him and not when she’s soaking wet on his leg. Now that she’s stopped her exquisite motions, he feels his strengths coming back. Maybe he’s strong enough to lift her and put her on her knees. Hopefully, he’ll be strong enough to stand on his feet behind her.  

“Can I go, mister Duchovny?” She uses the sexiest voice she can as he was trying to raise. It still doesn’t make sense, he thinks.

Or maybe it does. She always has to go, it’s crazy. Why would this amazing blowjob be different from their relationship itself? One day she’s here and they’re happy, and the second after she’s on the other side of the world and he’s unable to do anything besides missing her for days.  “Yes, go, leave me again! You’re so good at it!” he wants to scream, but his voice remains trapped in his throat and it seems like she’s gone already. He can’t feel her mouth anymore. Her beautiful blue eyes have vanished, such as the sensation of her blond curl brushing the inside of his thighs. What he does feel is the dark hole in his heart, aching and silently screaming for her to come back. In vain.

“Mister Duchov…” A scream of disgust follows his last name and the sight of the back of the cleaning lady rushing towards the house and throwing her apron inside the pool is the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes, finally out of his reverie. After a few seconds of incomprehension, he realizes that his hand inside his tented board shorts is probably the reason of the lady’s anger and disgust. He’ll have a hard time explaining that later…

He puts his glasses on the side of the chair and stands up to jump inside the pool in a gracious diving. He needs to cool both his body and mind after what just happened. Hopefully, after tonight, this kind of dreams won’t end in nightmares of loneliness and abandon anymore. Hopefully, tonight, after her car has crossed his portal for the first time in three months and she has seen the red carpet leading to his door where he’ll be standing in an over-expensive suit, after she walked towards him pretending to not understand what’s happening, after he kneels before her, takes her hand in his, and asks her the same question he had asked her twenty years ago, hopefully she will not go anywhere. Never.

it’s too fucking hard.

duchov:

It’s so
fucking hard to love you.

You’re
hardly even here. I can’t wake up next to you, kiss you good morning, wake you
up by making you come. There are times when I want to tell you something that
isn’t very important, like that I had the most amazing kale smoothie or
discovered a new organic coffee place in New York. I can’t buy you a bunch of
roses or bar of dark chocolate just because I love you. I only can call you in
the evening and tell you how much I miss you. If I’m desperate, I’ll even buy a
ticket to London. But it’s so hard loving you when you’re not around.

But when
you are around, it’s not easy, either. I have to share you with the whole
world. You’re always somewhere while I want you all to myself. When we’re
together, you have the book signing, I have the interview. We’re missing each
other and then yet again, the evenings are ours to say how we feel, what we did
and how much we miss each other. I fucking hate this situation. I want to
scream from the rooftops, I want the whole world to know that I love you and I
don’t want to share you that much. You’re mine and everyone should know it.

I hate
everything about you.

I hate the
fact you wake up every day on your own. You’re so cold in the mornings and
there’s no one there to hold you close, to warm you up.

I hate how
your eyes are tired from reading all those scripts and working with the
computer. You have tears in your eyes, they are red and puffy. It hurts you.

I hate when
you’re taking lonely walks in the park late in the evening. I’m always worried
about you and though I’m so far away, I could jump in the plane and fly to you
only to make sure you’re safe.

I hate when
you have to attend all those events and parties where you are asked
uncomfortable questions about your private life, about me, instead of your
amazing work. It’s unfair.

I hate many
things about you. But I love you to death.

I love how
your nose wrinkles when someone says something funny. How you laugh out loud.
How your eyes smile when you look at me.

I love the
way you say my name.

I love the
fact that you count the days until we see each other again. How every day you
send me a short text saying how many days are left.  Today it’s 13.

I love how
you sing my songs in the shower and when you say that you’re proud of my work,
although I know that honestly you’re not a fan of it.

“I’m your
biggest fan”, you tell me.

I love
every little thing about you and the fact that I can’t have you every second of
every minute and every day of forever drives me crazy.

But you
know what?

One day I
will be spending every second of every minute, every minute of every hour,
every hour of every day, every day of every week, every week of every month,
every month of every year and every year of eternity by your side. Now I have
to miss you. I have to hate all those things. It has to be hard loving you, but
don’t worry.

You’re
worth it.