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.
Étiquette : xf 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.
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.
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.”
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
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.
Inappropriate displays of public affection
Gillovny RPF Submitted by @allyinthekeyofx
INAPPROPRIATE DISPLAYS OF PUBLIC AFFECTION
By
AllyinthekeyofX
She leans back against the seat, head bent slightly forward, eyes closed as she tries to release the tension that has been steadily building all evening, trying to centre herself, to control her breathing even as her stomach stirs uncomfortably against the creeping edges of panic that are curling insidiously around her, seeking purchase now that she can finally drop the facade she has been only barely maintaining.
If he were here now he would know; he would recognise the signs of her anxiety just by the feel of her beside him. She wouldn’t have to speak, to make a plea for him to notice that she is barely hanging on right now; she wouldn’t need to reach for him because he would reach for her first. His long fingers would brush against her bare skin with a feather- light touch that would speak of friendship, of understanding and of a connection that seems to have lasted a lifetime for them.
Because he knows her. He knows how to just be.
An effortless understanding that defies explanation in the same way as the sun rises each morning it is the understanding that he will be there to catch her when she falls. Always.
And right now she is falling – has been falling for hours in fact, painfully aware that no one was really noticing because to anyone who doesn’t know her well, she was fine. Impeccably presented as always, the dress she was initially unsure of causing a flurry of compliments from those around her as she smiled in response, forcing herself to keep breathing, to do everything right even though she has spent the entire evening feeling about as out of control as she has ever been.
So out of control in fact that the temptation to just grab a couple of drinks had been almost too strong to resist. But of course she had agreed not to drink alcohol lest she let something slip – some tiny word or gesture that might be pounced upon and fed to the media. A mistake that would shatter the illusion she has so carefully strived to maintain, making everything for nothing; and so she had settled instead for caffeine and cigarettes, falling back on to her on again/off again habit that has stalked her throughout her adult life and which she has never entirely been able to let go of.
When she is with him though she doesn’t need to buoy herself with nicotine in the way she once did. Because he became her fix and she didn’t need anything else and if he had been with her tonight she would have spent the night glued to his side, blissfully basking in the protectiveness of his presence as he gently guided her through the minefield that was an LA awards evening, knowing that he had her back; that he would somehow make the whole plastic Hollywood experience real again.
She had snuck quietly out of the ceremony on the pretence of needing a cigarette but in actuality it was to find a dark corner away from prying eyes where she could pull out her phone and watch the clip of him at the Con where he tells the prank story, to take comfort from the fact that even if they aren’t together he is thinking of her; no doubt in her mind that it was no coincidence that the panel ended on that one specific question – that he engineered it exactly that way so the last reference he made was to her -an unspoken and easily explainable confirmation that she is on his mind; that she is always on his mind. But there had been no time before she was summoned back inside to re-take her place beside her date for the evening and for the first time she had realised that she was somebody’s ‘plus one’ and that the rules of engagement were very much different in that situation. She was there to play a role just as surely as if she held a script in her hand.
She remembers once laughing disdainfully during an awards show years ago at the sheer amount of ‘names’ who had turned up at the side of various fellow ‘names’. Arm candy she had whispered in his ear and he had squeezed her hand and asked if he could be considered her arm candy for the night, his lips barely brushing her skin, the feel of his breath sending her senses reeling and her desire rocketing upwards as a warm flush gradually worked its way up her body, prickling her nerve endings in delicious anticipation of what would come later; when they could be alone together and not concerned that their frequent and slightly inappropriate displays of public affection would get out of control and connections be made that they would both as soon keep under wraps.
No such public displays tonight though in fact, no real affection of any kind which is really the cause of her tension. She knows this and should have prepared for it so really, she knows she only has herself to blame. The agreement was to not give the press any ammunition one way or the other – to keep people guessing as to what the relationship status is. A few well placed snippets drip fed to a public hungry for answers; a small article here, an unnamed source there, a gradual block of social media interaction with the fans as her handlers take over from her, allowing her only the most basic command of her own accounts. And she misses it; misses the chance to show her real side to people in the fandom who have remained loyal to her for years; decades even.
She wonders what they are making of tonight’s events and she isn’t stupid – she knows there will be a backlash from some quarters and even if she tries to ignore it, to laugh it off, she will not succeed and it will hurt in the same way it always does. Because somehow, without her really doing anything to encourage it, she has become their Queen; in fact it’s an endearment she sees regularly from her fans and which is now painfully ironic given the man she is sharing the car with.
Looking down she notices a small pink spot on the pristine whiteness of her gifted gown and she idly wonders whether red bull can be removed from chiffon or whether the dress will be unceremoniously thrown in the trash like so much rubbish; she suspects though that there is an arsenal of chemicals designed to deal with far more insidious stains than sugar-laden energy drinks and that the dress will probably live to fight another day. If it can be cleaned she will auction it off or donate to a cause because as beautiful as it is, she will never wear it again – couldn’t bear to wear it again.
Because it is all part of a lie that has somehow spiralled out of control and become something so much bigger than she ever expected it could be.
But then, for all her posturing, all her confidence and all her talk of empowerment, really she has always been a little naive with regards to her own powers of manipulation.
When the idea had first been floated to her she had been all for it – carried along by the prospect of no one getting hurt and mutual benefits for both parties. A simple exercise in PR that would achieve publicity for one and a greater bargaining chip for the other; a denying of one relationship by the apparent commencement of another that would result in renewed interest in one area whilst taking the heat away from the other; a few carefully chosen ‘sightings’ and photographs leaked to social media to keep the pot stirring and there it was. The perfect deception.
But tonight has demonstrated just how wrong she has been.
Because this is wrong; it’s all so fucking wrong that she can’t bear it but she knows that to either confirm or deny right now would send everything tumbling down around them all and with the knowledge comes a creeping exhaustion that leaves her feeling more vulnerable to attack than she has ever been. And without him with her she knows she won’t be able to adequately deflect the bullets that are already starting to come her way and it doesn’t escape her that her relationship with him has become almost as encompassing as that of the characters they both played for so many years; that lines have become blurred and that somehow along the way they became everything to each other.
She feels the burning sensation at the back of her throat which has become an all too familiar feeling for her these past few months and almost unconsciously, just as she has repeated regularly all evening, her hand reaches across to her opposite wrist to touch the bracelet she has worn almost constantly since he bought it for her and which represents the invisible chain which binds them together even when they are apart. But of course she isn’t wearing it because even she had acknowledged that to do so would seem odd given the luxuriant elegance of her outfit tonight. And so she had left it secured in the electronic safe that was hidden behind a panel in her hotel room and chased away the regret of leaving it behind with idle musings of just who had come before her and placed other personally priceless objects behind the small steel door.
And she forces back the tears that suddenly film her eyes with the realisation that she needs him right now; she needs him to pull her in to his arms and tell her that she is doing the right thing – that everything will be okay.
But he isn’t here and with the schedules they both have going on right now it might be weeks before she sees him again; relying on texts and calls and e-mails that might close the wound temporarily but in no way even marginally heals it; but it doesn’t prevent her from wishing she could just be with him for one more night. To feel his warm body spooned against hers as he trails kisses along the delicate curve of her shoulders; affirming as always that whatever else is wrong, them being together is right. The thought brings a gentle smile that just barely curves the edges of her lips but it feels good to smile without feeling forced and strained and worried that others will see the sadness she has tried so hard to conceal.
“That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all night.”
The voice beside her is concerned; softly gentle in the silence of the car’s interior and for just a moment she feels regretful for him. He is a good man; an honourable man and he has been both a supportive friend and constant mentor to her since they met. It is a friendship based on genuine like and mutual respect and she knows he is finding this whole situation as wearing as she is, especially now the fans have begun to vent their frustration on him in a wholly inappropriate manner which he has certainly done nothing to deserve. Like her, he has become a pawn in a game that seems to have no end and she hopes fervently that their friendship will somehow be intact when they both finally come out the other end.
“I’m fine. It’s just been a very long day and I’m looking forward to a bath and an expensive bed” she assures him.
And as if on cue the car rolls to a gradual stop outside her hotel – a different hotel to the one she had stayed at the night before; this one smaller and more intimate and much more to her taste. Large hotels intimidate her in their unilateral sameness and in large hotels she sometimes forgets who she really is. Smaller hotels too tend to be more giving of their discretion too – usually the price reflects the level of discretion but she can afford it at whatever price; has come to rely on it over the last few years.
She leans forward to exit the car but before the door is opened she turns to graze her lips against the jaw of the man beside her. The kiss she very nearly gave him earlier when, amidst tumultuous applause he had risen to go collect his award and a kiss he had deftly side stepped with a fleeting smile of apology but which now, in the confines of the car she is finally able to deliver.
“Congratulations again.”
And then, in with a whisper of chiffon and swirling silk, she is gone.
@@@@@@@@
Despite her exhaustion she finds sleep alludes her and alone in the huge bed that her small frame barely impacts, she finally allows herself to cry. He hasn’t phoned, hasn’t texted or even dropped her anything on social media and she hates herself for reacting like this especially since he had made no promises to her as to whether he would be able to contact her before morning; it’s just the way it is for them; how it has always been but that knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less.
She could phone him but it’s almost 2am and she has no idea where he is or what he is doing other than he was flying back from New Orleans at some point and logically, he has probably crashed with exhaustion given the amount of travelling he has endured over the last couple of days. She forgets sometimes that neither one of them are getting any younger because to her, he hasn’t aged a day since she first met him so many years ago even though logically, she knows that they are both wearing those years like the badges of honour they are. Two decades of shared experiences, of love and of loss and of a final re-connection that she knows now will last eternal if they manage not to fuck it up again.
A sudden knock at the door makes her jump and before she can even adequately process it, she is kicking off the comforter and flying across the room. Because the voice that accompanied the knock, the voice that spoke her name just as he has spoken her name a thousand times before can’t really belong to him; it just can’t.
And even as she flings open the door she is crying, barely allowing him to step over the threshold before she is pressed against him, trying to get control of herself even as her breath comes in huge shuddering gasps as she finally breaks down in his arms; the pressure of the previous twenty four hours reaching the point of no return and demanding release.
He doesn’t speak for long moments as he holds her against him; seemingly unsurprised to garner such a reaction from her and later he will tell her that he was glued to social media all evening and that he had been able to read her confusion and distress just as surely as if she had been in the room with her; that the painful realisation that she was hurting and he wasn’t there was enough to send him straight to the airport and on the first available plane. Because he will always find a way to reach her regardless of circumstance; it’s a role he has taken willingly but right now, he just needs to hold her, whispering in to her hair that he is here; that it will be okay – that they will be okay.
And for now, in this moment as she breathes in his familiar scent and clutches him as though he represents life itself, she allows herself to believe him.
End
Just Holding Hands 