Title: Strawberries
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Rating: PG
Category: MSR
Spoilers: Requiem (isn't everything?)
Disclaimer: Chris,1013, Fox. I'll give them back unharmed,
but only if you make them happy. Of course I can make
threats, when are you ever going to read this??
Feedback: I'm drawing the line for you - SEND IT!
scullys_no_slut@viceprez.fsnet.co.uk
Distribution: Yes to major archives and my usual hoarders.
Anyone else, just ask.
* * * * * * * * *
Author's notes
* * * * * * * * *
Thank you to my mummy who bought me the most fabulous
poetry books for Christmas. I rediscovered the brilliance
of Edwin Morgan, particularly this poem, "Strawberries".
Makes me proud to be British. And I just felt like making
Scully's interior monologue verbose...
"and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you"
EDWIN MORGAN, "Strawberries"
Ubiquitous happiness.
Every moment in those precious months was unabashedly
joyful. The monstrosities that brought us together had
opted to cease their haunting of our lives, albeit
temporarily.
You were so content, more settled than I could ever have
hoped for. The love we had finally admitted to each other
was reasserted at every given opportunity.
And all the while you were away, my love, our passion still
consumed every waking moment. Everywhere I turned, a
memory of you presented itself. Some induced the tears I
was no longer ashamed to cry. Others provided a burst of
happiness amongst the pain.
Like the scene I envisage now. That quiet park, miles from
civilisation. Just the two of us with a picnic basket. I
wonder if you recall how you raced me from the car to our
favourite spot, how I leapt onto your back to avoid defeat.
You stopped then, awaiting my kiss. Instead I capitalised
on your submission and ran on to victory.
How many hours did we while away in that grove beneath the
trees? Perhaps three, or more, but I lost count. You're
the only person who can have that effect on me.
Our picnic was meagre, barely sufficient to replenish the
energy that had been spent the preceding night. Typical of
your nature, your selections catered to the sweet tooth as
opposed to nourishment. Incorrigible but utterly adorable.
It was blissful to have you lying across my lap, the
surrender only emphasising your trust. The tray of fresh
strawberries was your favourite indulgence, and I did not
resist the urge of feeding the contents to you. It
heartened me to see the manner in which you sucked the ripe
fruit so eagerly from my fingers. I brooked no attempt to
share, since my treat was still contained in the basket.
Until that day I had always rather disliked strawberries.
As you finished your veritable feast, I felt my mothering
instinct slide. I could not explain, then, why I had felt
that way. But soon, I had been too preoccupied with
kissing you to care.
As I tasted the sweetness of the fruit on your stained
lips, all at once it became my favourite sensation. I bent
forward, feeling you straining your neck to meet my
advances. Our tongues swirled languorously as I
rediscovered the contours of your mouth, and revelled in
the beauteous taste therein. That kiss, the mere thought
of it, has kept me sane these past few months.
Suddenly, I am aware of you staring at me. My trip down
memory lane has occurred in the course of weekly grocery
shopping. I almost forgot you had returned from your
enforced absence. I'm still incredulous about your
presence, treasuring even this part of banal domesticity.
Then you observe the strawberries in my hand, and I could
weep to see that they trigger the same memory in you.
Wickedly, I draw one piece from its companions and offer it
to you. I will pay for the fruit, but this moment cannot
wait. With a nostalgic grin, you greedily dispose of my
present. And then, you do what I shall never tire of: you
kiss me. I wallow in that familiar feeling, not caring
about our very public location.
When you release me, you are very mindful of my swollen
stomach. I dismiss the whispers of the prudish fellow
shoppers that pass. I am in love; hopelessly in love. Now
that you are with me once more, I only pray for the time
and strength to enjoy it.
Author: Dana E. Vassy
Rating: PG
Category: MSR
Spoilers: Requiem (isn't everything?)
Disclaimer: Chris,1013, Fox. I'll give them back unharmed,
but only if you make them happy. Of course I can make
threats, when are you ever going to read this??
Feedback: I'm drawing the line for you - SEND IT!
scullys_no_slut@viceprez.fsnet.co.uk
Distribution: Yes to major archives and my usual hoarders.
Anyone else, just ask.
* * * * * * * * *
Author's notes
* * * * * * * * *
Thank you to my mummy who bought me the most fabulous
poetry books for Christmas. I rediscovered the brilliance
of Edwin Morgan, particularly this poem, "Strawberries".
Makes me proud to be British. And I just felt like making
Scully's interior monologue verbose...
"and I bent towards you
sweet in that air
in my arms
abandoned like a child
from your eager mouth
the taste of strawberries
in my memory
lean back again
let me love you"
EDWIN MORGAN, "Strawberries"
Ubiquitous happiness.
Every moment in those precious months was unabashedly
joyful. The monstrosities that brought us together had
opted to cease their haunting of our lives, albeit
temporarily.
You were so content, more settled than I could ever have
hoped for. The love we had finally admitted to each other
was reasserted at every given opportunity.
And all the while you were away, my love, our passion still
consumed every waking moment. Everywhere I turned, a
memory of you presented itself. Some induced the tears I
was no longer ashamed to cry. Others provided a burst of
happiness amongst the pain.
Like the scene I envisage now. That quiet park, miles from
civilisation. Just the two of us with a picnic basket. I
wonder if you recall how you raced me from the car to our
favourite spot, how I leapt onto your back to avoid defeat.
You stopped then, awaiting my kiss. Instead I capitalised
on your submission and ran on to victory.
How many hours did we while away in that grove beneath the
trees? Perhaps three, or more, but I lost count. You're
the only person who can have that effect on me.
Our picnic was meagre, barely sufficient to replenish the
energy that had been spent the preceding night. Typical of
your nature, your selections catered to the sweet tooth as
opposed to nourishment. Incorrigible but utterly adorable.
It was blissful to have you lying across my lap, the
surrender only emphasising your trust. The tray of fresh
strawberries was your favourite indulgence, and I did not
resist the urge of feeding the contents to you. It
heartened me to see the manner in which you sucked the ripe
fruit so eagerly from my fingers. I brooked no attempt to
share, since my treat was still contained in the basket.
Until that day I had always rather disliked strawberries.
As you finished your veritable feast, I felt my mothering
instinct slide. I could not explain, then, why I had felt
that way. But soon, I had been too preoccupied with
kissing you to care.
As I tasted the sweetness of the fruit on your stained
lips, all at once it became my favourite sensation. I bent
forward, feeling you straining your neck to meet my
advances. Our tongues swirled languorously as I
rediscovered the contours of your mouth, and revelled in
the beauteous taste therein. That kiss, the mere thought
of it, has kept me sane these past few months.
Suddenly, I am aware of you staring at me. My trip down
memory lane has occurred in the course of weekly grocery
shopping. I almost forgot you had returned from your
enforced absence. I'm still incredulous about your
presence, treasuring even this part of banal domesticity.
Then you observe the strawberries in my hand, and I could
weep to see that they trigger the same memory in you.
Wickedly, I draw one piece from its companions and offer it
to you. I will pay for the fruit, but this moment cannot
wait. With a nostalgic grin, you greedily dispose of my
present. And then, you do what I shall never tire of: you
kiss me. I wallow in that familiar feeling, not caring
about our very public location.
When you release me, you are very mindful of my swollen
stomach. I dismiss the whispers of the prudish fellow
shoppers that pass. I am in love; hopelessly in love. Now
that you are with me once more, I only pray for the time
and strength to enjoy it.