Chapter Text
She’d taken another flight, landed a few hours before him and texted him she was in her hotel room, with a blush emoji that said it all. He’d almost run from the plane to the exit of the airport, caught a cab in a rush and checked in at their hotel. His room is huge, with an amazing view of Chicago, king size bed, massive bathtub, it smells like flowers, he doesn’t care. He’s not gonna use it. They always take hers, for no reason, it’s just the way it is. He keeps up the appearances for the hotel staff, but once the guy who carries his suitcase is gone with a nice tip, he lets a few shirts in the drawers, messes the bed, and leaves, his luggage rolling behind him.
It’s been two long weeks since he’d seen her. He can’t stand spending one more second without breathing the same air as her. In a few second, he’ll hold her, smell her, kiss her, take her. 301…302…303… 304. There it is, room 305. She should be behind the door, waiting for him.
He has plans for tonight. He wants to take her out, go dinner in a nice place downtown. He’ll pull the chair for her, and kiss her shoulder, on the particular spot that makes her shiver every time. She’ll discreetly kick off her shoes under the table and run her foot on his leg, maybe slip her toes under his pants, and he’ll take her hand and get lost in the blue of her eyes. She’ll order a dessert, probably a chocolate cake, but she won’t finish it. He will. Then they’ll be back here, and he will make love to her all night. But before that, he needs to feel her hands on his skin, her breath on his neck, her lips on his mouth, her tongue on his cock. His dick inside her. And he needs it now. He’s already half-hard just at this thought, when he knocks at the door.
He hears footsteps behind the door, and the handle turns.
“Hi, David!” she says, her voice oddly high-pitched. She winks and shakes her head awkwardly. She’s beautiful, even in her “I-had-a-8-hours-flight-today-and-I-don’t-give-a-fuck.” Her hair is tight in a messy ponytail, she has her glasses on, and wears a lousy white dress and tan wedges. No makeup, no perfume, but she looks flawless and smells delicious. If she was not doing this weird thing with her eyes, he would lift her and take her right here against the wall.
“Hi… Gillian?” he answers, looking over her shoulder.
Mitch. Fuck. What is he doing here? She mouths a “Sorry” as he closes the door behind him, frowning his brows.
“There he is! Duchovny!” Mitch screams, opening his arms for a welcoming hug. “Why are you carrying your suitcase, dude?”
Mitch knows. He does for years, but they’d never told him anything. It’s worse than that. He knows that they know that he knows. Yet, no one never talks about it. They prefer to tease each other, with continuous embarrassing innuendos. One day, they will have to tell him. They will have to tell everyone, actually. But that day is not today.
“Huh… My room’s… huh… not ready yet. What a scandal, huh. Five stars, my ass!” he lies and quickly changes the subject. “What are you doing here?”
“I just came to say Hi! and pick up Gillian. Everyone’s waiting for us at the restaurant.”
Oh, god, he has forgotten about the dinner with their teams and the Comic Con’s staff. Maybe no one will notice their absence if they don’t go?
“Yeah…” he says hesitantly, looking at Gillian for help. “Well, maybe Gillian’s tired, you know… jetlag and everything? Aren’t you, Gill?”
“Nah! She’s fine!” Mitch interrupts Gillian before she can even answer. “She just told me she slept the whole flight. Come on! Let’s go. I’m starving!”
-
Everyone is already around the table in the cozy restaurant of the hotel. Deep down, he’s thrilled and beyond happy to be with her again, but his exterior looks angry and frustrated. He’s known to be moody and kind of morose sometimes, but today is nothing like that. He just knows exactly how to behave when he doesn’t want anybody to talk to him, and that’s what he does now. His jaw is clenched, his lips pursed, and he has his sunglasses on, allowing him to see without being seen and to avoid eye contact with everyone. He wants to be forgotten, and stay in his own bubble where only Gillian is allowed to come in, and he hopes this dinner won’t last too long.
“You okay?” Gillian whispers, discreetly turning her head to face him.
He nods with a slight smile and puts his hand on her knee, under the table.
“I missed you,” he whispers back, squeezing her bare-knee.
Her dress is pulled up just above her knees, her napkin resting on her thighs to hide the piece of flesh that could be seen. Her skin is soft and warm under his touch, and he lets escape a heavy sigh of frustration and boredom. He would give everything he has to be anywhere else with her. Even the bathroom of this restaurant would do the job. But they can’t do that. Not in front of all these people, even if no one really pays attention to them. He’s been so cold and unfriendly since they arrived, that people seem almost afraid to talk to him. That’s exactly what he wants, Gillian can socialize for the both of them. They have a functional “good cop, bad cop” routine working for years, and both of them are pretty happy with the role they have. He knows she will apologize for his behavior later, he doesn’t care, right now, she’s the only one he feels like being kind with. His thumb caresses the side of her knee while his fingers sink into her flesh.
She nods at his confession, staring at his lips. He knows she’d kiss him now if she could. He craves for her lips on his, her tongue in his mouth, her pussy around his cock while she’d ride him merciless, her perfect tits jumping up and down while she’d scream his name and climax on his lap, gushing her juices on his dick… Now he’s frustrated, bored and hard. Fine. And when exactly did his hand find itself so high on her inner-thigh?
She’s back in the conversation, like nothing is happening, but the blush on her earlobe, the little veins on her neck, the goosebumps under his palm, and the heat between her thighs betrays her. She slightly opens her legs wider, and sits closer to the table, bringing her chair nearer to the edge to hide her crotch under the tablecloth. This is definitely an invitation, and he is hesitant to accept it. They no longer are these young thirsty and wild people who couldn’t behave themselves and would fuck everywhere, not caring about being heard or seen. If they get caught, this could have irrevocable consequences. But on the other hand, she’s hot and wet, he can feel it with his fingertips, and seeing the way her chest heavily lifts with each of her breath, she’s aroused. Her nipples poke through her dress and her hairs rise on her arms. She can blame a too strong air conditioner for this. Except that she isn’t cold, she’s way too hot, but he’s the only one to know it. To feel it.
His hand travels deeper between her thighs, very slowly, his fingertips blindly waiting to make contact with her panties. Her fists tighten around her cutlery when the tip of his middle finger brushes her clit. God, she’s soaked. He delicately caresses her folds up and down over the soft cotton of her underwear. If only this guy just in front of him who stares at her like she was the Seventh Wonder of the World, knew that he has his hand on her pussy right now… If only he knew how wet she is for him. But he will never know because she’s too good at it. It amuses him to watch her keep talking, clearing her throat in the middle of a sentence when he touches her clit, drinking more water than necessary, avoiding to look in his direction. For all those years, he’d forgotten how fun and exciting sex in public could be.
Behind his sunglasses, he checks if anyone looks in his direction, but still no one pays attention to him. Full of confidence, he slips his forefinger under the band of her panties, tracing the edge of them. She shifts in her chair, replaces her napkin on her lap discreetly, and drinks another glass of water in one big sip. He refrains a chuckle. He’s both amused and amazed at her cool exterior, when she’s actually burning inside. If it was her hand on his dick right now, he would have growled and moaned, no matter how many people were watching him.
He waits for her to finish her drink. He doesn’t want her to spill fresh water all over her. First, it would be embarrassing, and then her dress is white, and everybody would see her hard dark nipples through it, and he’d rather keep this sight just for him. They might be in public, it doesn’t mean he wants to share. She’s his, and the slight smell of her arousal coming up to his nostrils proves it. Between all the scents around the table right now, the food, the cheap perfume of the lady next to him, the heavy after-shave of this guy on the other side of the table, the candles, he still can discern the delicious and characteristic smell of her pussy. This musky and heavy scent that makes him want to taste her and swallow her whole.
She takes her fork back in her hand, and he assaults her clit. She whispers an inaudible “Oh god,” and closes her eyes for a second, before taking a bite of her meal. He circles, tickles, pinches, staring at her in the corner of his eyes. Her cheeks have taken some nice colors, and her movements start to be difficult. She has given up cutting her meat, unable to use both of her hands now. It takes longer to bring her fork at her mouth, and her tongue lingers on the metal like these pastas were the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth. She uses her free hand to clean invisible crumbs on her chest, brushing her nipples to release some pressure.
She’s dripping wet on his hand, and shifts again. Her stomach is almost touching the edge of the table, and she lays back on her chair, slightly lifting her ass to give him a better access. Another invitation.
He pauses for a second, cupping her pussy and using his free hand to take a sip of his wine. He needs a second to recompose himself. He’s sweating, and breathing heavily. The head of his dick is painfully demanding to get out his thick jeans. For a second, he thinks about freeing him, and wrapping her little hand around it. That’s exactly what he needs now. The kind of hand job that only she can give him. The one that can make him come in two minutes, especially when she does this thing, swirling his dick between her two palms. Amazing how she can reduce him to an exhibitionist pervert sometimes, he thinks and refrains another chuckle, leaving his cock where it is.
“So, Gillian, what do you think about Chicago? Have you ever been here, I know you live in London…” the guy with the heart-eyes asks.
Oh, god! David thinks. She was born here, she lived here, she has family here. Read some of her press, you idiot! It’s an easy answer for her, though. She just has to tell the same story she’s used to serve journalists every single day of her life for twenty five years, so why not making it a little bit harder for her? A wry smile is drawn on his face as he enters his middle finger inside her without warning. She’s so wet and aroused that he doesn’t meet any resistance and pushes it as deep as his position allows him to, his forefinger strongly resting on her clit. She gasps and hits the table with the bottom of her knife, making the guy jump with surprise. She looks upset and ready to slap him, with her little fist clenched like this, and he looks like he doesn’t know what he said to have offended her.
“I… Yeah… I… I was born here.” she stuttered.
“Oh! Great! Did you live here, or did you move to London right away?”
“I lived here.” she said sharply.
“Okay. Then, welcome back!” The guy looks worried and a bit disappointed. She was a sweetheart at the beginning of her dinner, answering every question, having a nice conversation, and she suddenly turns in a Hollywood diva who doesn’t want to talk. If only they knew…
“Thank you.” she gasps awkwardly.
He’s so proud of himself for making her lose it. She’s stayed in control all the time his hand was between her thighs, but now his finger is inside her, and he keeps pushing on clit with every move. She had lowered her head, focusing on her meal, and avoiding to look at anyone. It’s her turn to want to be forgotten now. Her smell has intensified, and he’s sure Mitch, sitting next to her can smell it too. Joke’s on him, he feels like Mitch kind of always wanted to be the one making her smell like that. But his amusement stops when he feels her muscles clench around his finger. Oh god, no! She’s not going to come right here? He’d watched her come countless times. He knows her orgasm-face by heart. She can’t be more beautiful and gorgeous than when she comes, but she’s also noisy and loud, and her whole body convulses, and he’d like to keep this sight just for him.
He tries to catch her gaze, but she’s still avoiding his eyes, focusing on her plate. He should stop before she embarrasses herself. But she didn’t even try to make him stop since he’s started. And if he does stop now, and lets her hang, she could kill him later. She might be in control, she knows what she’s doing, it’s not the first time she would have to come in silence with him. They both have kids, and the walls of these trailers are really thin… He inserts another finger inside her and she tosses her head back, staring at the ceiling for a second, before returning to her meal. Hopefully, no one noticed that. She grips at the edge of the table as he pumps his fingers into her, as hard as possible, trying to keep his arm still, not wanting to make some odd movements that could draw the attention on him. His wrist is frantic under the table, his palm hitting her clit on every way up. No one can ignore the smell of her pussy now, and if he listens carefully, he can even hear the wet sound of his fingers. Her muscles clench again and she finally turns her head towards him, searching for his eyes behind his sunglasses.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t change the expression on his face, but holds her gaze. This is the kind of moment that lasts a few seconds when you feel like it has lasted hours. The restaurant doesn’t exist anymore, there’s no Mitch, no William, no one else around them. No other sound than her inaudible moans, and her soaked pussy taking his fingers, thrust after thrust. They’re alone for a second, and he’s finally lost in the shiny blue of her eyes. Her face is red, she bites the side of her bottom lip and she suddenly closes her eyes and purses her lips as her inner muscles contract hard around his fingers, trapping them inside her. Just a heavy sigh escapes her throat as she comes, and slowly allow the world to reappear around their own little bubble.
“I hate you!” she mouths with a smile and turns her face away from him.
He withdrew his fingers, wiping them on her napping with a satisfied grin, and excuses himself before he leaves. No way he can stay around this table with an erection of this size painfully hidden in his jeans.