From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2012 06:57:37 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: PWCA (BTC) by Dryad
Source: direct
Reply To: dryad@puritycontrol.co.uk
Disclaimer: Alas, alack, they are not mine. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Title: PWCA
Author: Dryad
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Young At Heart
Archive: Sho'. A note where would be nice.
Summary: Willa-the-wisp
Note: written for Haven's 'Bad Touch' challenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A fox is a wolf who sends flowers.
- Ruth Weston
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~*~
She was, of course, multi-orgasmic.
Mulder licked his lips and shifted onto his back on the couch,
PBS on the tv rumbling quietly in the background. He closed his
eyes. Was she a moaner? A screamer? Or was she as reserved during
sex as she was with everything else? He liked to think he could
coax pleasure the likes of which she had never before experienced
with another person.
Her skin would be like silk under his hands, so warm, a pale
flame under his palms, the pads of his fingertips. Her lips would
send shivers of delight down his spine while her nails skittered
over his nipples and down his chest to reach the waistband of his
trousers.
He was desperate to taste her. She was going to smell like
freshly baked bread, the scent of home and love, of lust
unslaked. With her knees on either side of his head she would
wait, and he would feast. She would be surface-of-the-sun hot,
sweeter on his tongue than runny golden honey.
At work he was technically in command, and yet so often she was
in control, often unseen by anyone save the two of them.
When she was ready she would move back down his body, pleased by
his desperation, wanting him equally as much as he wanted her.
Oh, how he would burn inside her welcoming heat. They would
consume one another to ash.
The soft grunts came out despite his attempts to keep quiet.
Not that it mattered, he was alone in his apartment. After
cleaning up with the now-cool washcloth he had prepared earlier,
he then tucked himself back into his underwear and curled up onto
his side. Natural, it was perfectly natural to fantasize about
someone you worked with, he knew this. Yet he still felt guilty.
Not that he fantasized often about Scully, not consciously,
anyway. It was one thing to wake up from a wet dream, quite
another to lie back with intent.
He reached back and pulled the blanket over himself, snuggled
more deeply into the back of the couch. Funny how even though so
much time had passed, how merely thinking about Barnett was
enough to send him into a tizzy. At the time he hadn't understood
how dangerous Barnett was - not until it was too late.
He should have taken the shot, crossfire and the likelihood of
his own death bedamned.
With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes, wishing for a warm body to
cuddle with beside him. Of course Scully came to mind, and he had
to grin, because he could just imagine the expression on her face
at finding herself with his arms wrapped around her. A tremendous
yawn surprised him, and he sternly told his hindbrain to continue
working on the case while his forebrain slept.
He still should have taken the damned shot.
~*~ fin ~*~
NOTE:
Pwca (pooka) - a small goblin-like fairy that mischievously leads
lone
travelers off the beaten path at night.
hekateris at gmail dot com
http://www.dazzleships.net/puritycontrol
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