Title: empty compulsions
Author: august
Email: appelsini@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Category: V, A, M/S
Story Notes: This is a pretty insubstantial piece of nothing. What can I say, I was compelled.
Summary: "And this is for when you feel nothing." - Love and Rockets.
Yes, Virginia, I am.
*
She subscribes to too many medical journals. In the grand scheme of things, this isn't an indictable offense. On a base
level, she knows she tests herself. She doesn't want to not know anything. Sometimes she doesn't sleep until four am,
reading them.
She doesn't know why.
She's become a little obsessive about strange things lately. She now has twenty three pairs of sunglasses. It would be
more but some are just innocent casualties of Mulder. She drove down to a store at three in the morning the other
night because she remembered, when she was in bed, that she had no ceral for breakfast.
After all these years, every time she goes past a mirror, she still checks her nose for blood.
There are empty compulsions in other areas, as well. Mulder-areas, although she hates admitting it. A few times over
the years she has found herself below him, moving slowly against him. Fucking Mulder makes her top five recent
memories (one, three and five to be exact) but she can't forget about the afterward. About holding him in her,
entranced with the weight of his body on her.
She's tried, she tries, to find men who feel the same on top of her body. They never stay, or they're too light, or they
squash her to the point of pain. She thinks if she can just get it right, if she can just find someone who pushes her into
the mattress like Mulder, she can forget that the only time she doesn't want to read journals and buy ceral at three in
the morning is when he is in her bed.
But she doesn't ask and he doesn't ask and they wait until something breaks before they let it happen again. And in the
meantime she reads the journals and buys the ceral because there's not much else she can do.
***end***
Author: august
Email: appelsini@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Category: V, A, M/S
Story Notes: This is a pretty insubstantial piece of nothing. What can I say, I was compelled.
Summary: "And this is for when you feel nothing." - Love and Rockets.
Yes, Virginia, I am.
*
She subscribes to too many medical journals. In the grand scheme of things, this isn't an indictable offense. On a base
level, she knows she tests herself. She doesn't want to not know anything. Sometimes she doesn't sleep until four am,
reading them.
She doesn't know why.
She's become a little obsessive about strange things lately. She now has twenty three pairs of sunglasses. It would be
more but some are just innocent casualties of Mulder. She drove down to a store at three in the morning the other
night because she remembered, when she was in bed, that she had no ceral for breakfast.
After all these years, every time she goes past a mirror, she still checks her nose for blood.
There are empty compulsions in other areas, as well. Mulder-areas, although she hates admitting it. A few times over
the years she has found herself below him, moving slowly against him. Fucking Mulder makes her top five recent
memories (one, three and five to be exact) but she can't forget about the afterward. About holding him in her,
entranced with the weight of his body on her.
She's tried, she tries, to find men who feel the same on top of her body. They never stay, or they're too light, or they
squash her to the point of pain. She thinks if she can just get it right, if she can just find someone who pushes her into
the mattress like Mulder, she can forget that the only time she doesn't want to read journals and buy ceral at three in
the morning is when he is in her bed.
But she doesn't ask and he doesn't ask and they wait until something breaks before they let it happen again. And in the
meantime she reads the journals and buys the ceral because there's not much else she can do.
***end***