feedback: msnsc21[at]yahoo.com
Title: Past Three O'clock
Author: ML
Email: msnsc21@yahoo.com
Feedback: always welcome
Rating: adults only, please
Ep frame of reference: none
For the BtS Anniversary Challenge.
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In the deep, dark night, she closes her eyes and allows her mind
to drift. Recent images replay in her mind's eye.
She can't begin to put into words how she feels. Her usually
acute mind cannot find the perfect word to describe her present
state of being. Every word she can think of is inadequate.
Her whole world has changed. Not quite in the blink of an eye;
but faster than she would have dreamed possible, and in a way
she'd never anticipated. Although certainly in the most secret
part of her mind, she'd hoped.
Drowsily, she tries a few words on for size.
Fulfilled. It's true, as far as the word can go to describe her
present state. She has been filled, both physically and mentally.
The remembrance of Mulder looming above her, the feeling of the
first hot slide of him into her, is almost as thrilling as the
first-hand experience. This, however, describes a condition that
is temporary, though happily it's also repeatable.
Peaceful. Also a temporary condition, she knows. She has traded
urgency, pounding heart and blood, for slow, deep, gentle breaths.
The press of warm and naked skin against her has replaced the hard
plunge of eager flesh into eager flesh. Each has its appeal, but
this is what she needs right now. She asks for nothing more. For
the moment, anyway.
She stifles a giggle. Like the good scientist that she is, she
plans to repeat the results and compare the outcomes as often as
is practicable, until she's satisfied that it's real.
Satisfied certainly fits at this moment. She's never felt so
content, so cared for. Gone is the undefined longing, the
uncertainty of feelings reciprocated. She hadn't realized how
much this had bothered her until he'd made it clear that he'd
longed for her just as much, if not more, than she had longed for
him.
The bestower of these sensations stirs slightly beside her. She
wonders how he would describe his feelings. She'd like to think
she's driven his usual facility with words into dormancy, as he
has done for her.
He's turning toward her now, his lips brushing over her cheek.
She stretches her arm around to caress his hair as his lips travel
over her skin, exposing her breast to his questing hand. His
fingers barely brush over her nipple and it hardens in reaction,
responding to his lightest touch.
She turns toward him, brushing his lips with hers. His hand
stills momentarily in its caress.
"Don't stop," she whispers into his mouth. "Don't ever stop."
"I won't," he murmurs in promise. His hands move to reacquaint
themselves with the curves and secret inner places to which
they've recently been introduced.
She presses closer to him, eager to experience everything again, to
complete this melding of bodies and souls.
Complete. A word that has seemed banal or cliche in the past, or
when others have used it, now seems the best choice of any. She
hums in satisfaction because she's found what she's been looking
for. Not so much the word, but what has happened. Words are just
words. They can describe, illustrate, and illuminate. But
sometimes they just get in the way. Right now, actions are so
much more important than words.
~end~