Title: That Crucial Second
Author: Jaxson
E-Mail: Gossamer. Anywhere else, please ask and I'll say yes.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Category: VA, MSR
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance. Angst.
Summary: You can understand a lot in one second.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully belong to CC, 1013 and other people who
are not me. I don't own them. I don't own anything but a pair of
socks and a jar of nickels...and I stole the socks.
Author's Notes: This is a VERY short, almost not even worth posting,
piece, and it's my first X-Files outing. Feedback is always
appreciated!
That Crucial Second
by Jaxson
She came to me at midnight, as she has every night for the past three
weeks. She used her key, as always. I lay in my bed each night now
and listen in the dead silence to hear her. I seem to have developed
a Pavlovian response to the scrape of the key in the lock. The sound
triggers a southward rush of blood to my cock and a surge of
adrenaline through my system.
I love that she uses her key, and I hate it. I love that she feels
she has the right to invade my personal space and do it without
asking.
The first night I was on the couch when she came in. She didn't
answer my question as to why she was in my apartment at midnight. I
think she tried. She said my name, then paused. Then nothing. She
shook her head and simply circled her fingers around my wrist and
tugged at me until I stood, then led me into my bedroom. I was
shocked, but not stupid. I followed her lead and she led me to a
place I never really believed we would go.
But it's not the place I really wanted to go. It's a much less...warm
place than I imagined. It's hot. But it's not warm. Not yet. It's
not a place that's good outside the moment. When that crucial moment
is over, it's a difficult place. But still, I go there with her every
night, hoping that this time tomorrow will thaw a little more.
Right now, though, in that moment...I can imagine that it's hot enough
to melt tomorrow's ice into an ocean.
We're zeroing in here. Her voice is getting hoarser, her cries
harsher. The muscles in her thighs are tightening and the pads of her
fingers are pressing into my back where they're splayed out. In less
than a minute, she's going to come. I'm in a place right now where I
won't be able to hold back. I know that when I feel her inner
shivers, those delightful contractions, I'm going to give in without
actually consenting to it. I'll join her in that bliss that we share
every night for a few seconds. Then it will be over. Then I will
pull my body from hers and she will pull her everything from mine.
She'll let me spoon her until I fall asleep. Tomorrow morning I'll
wake up alone. I'll go to work and she'll come in and not look at me
for a few minutes. Then I'll catch her eye and try to make my eyes
convince her again that this is not wrong. I'll have to break down
the same walls in the light of day that she let fall tonight...again.
Even now, thrusting into her sweet body, I wonder why I do it. Why do
I torture myself every morning, hanging on the edge of her anxiety?
Why do I put us both through this emotional agony, questioning every
aspect of our relationship, straining our working relationship,
pushing even the strength of our friendship?
Ah, God! That's it, she's there. She's coming and in a second I'll
be right there with her. With her for just a moment. In a second.
But here, now, in this moment...my questions are answered.
She cries out. And she doesn't cry out some generic syllable or call
to God. It's my name. She calls my name at the height of her
pleasure. Tonight, every night.
And that's why I do this. The searing ecstasy that knifes through me
now is secondary. It's that one second each night when my name falls
from her lips, and I hear more than those two syllables.
