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Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. Author's Note: Warning: this story is rated NC-17. This is a companion piece to Icarus from Scully's point of view.
Semele
I hear the door between our rooms open softly, so softly that the whisper of a butterfly's wings would seem loud. He is coming to me again, my shadow lover, my partner. I feel the heat of his longing like a firestorm that reaches out an envelops me in wings of fire. I burn with my own fire, but dare not let him see its flames unless I wish for both of us to ignite and burn to ash. He would be mortified if he knew I was aware of these nocturnal visits. Mulder is brazen about proclaiming his belief in alien abductions, liver-eating mutants and killer bees, yet he shies away from confessing his passion to me. So, he visits me and torments himself with watching me, alone in the darkness. I want to ask him why, but dare not. In this, if nothing else, I am a coward. I'm no better than he is. I lie here, in the darkness, riding the waves of my own longing, alone in my bed. Surely fate must have meant for us to be together, who else would tolerate such fools? Even through my closed eyelids, I can see the flames halo him. The sheets around me burn. My skin flushes in answering heat. I cannot lie here and face him. I am too close to the fire, my resolve is already smoldering. Restlessly, I shift and turn over until only my back is witness to his torment. I feel him freeze for the space of one long ragged breath, then relax as he believes me still asleep. Away from his eyes, I can allow myself to imagine how it would feel to lie nestled safe and warm in the shelter of his arms. I have spent a lifetime in the past four years studying my partner. I know the minute ripples of his muscles as he stretches after a long day. My hands have memorized the outlines of bone and muscle as he lay unconscious in my care. Every outward facet of his body is mine to hoard. But still I hunger. Only in darkness do I allow myself to dream. Working daily in close quarters I do not allow myself the freedom of thinking of him as a man; he is my partner. Strangely, for all their sexual allusions, his innuendoes help keep the distance between us. I wonder if he knows this and uses them for this reason? I treasure each one, storing them away until I can open them up in the darkness and revel in their implications. Until he first came to me in the darkness, I could believe myself safe, secure in my fortress. Empiricism and scientific detachment maintained their dominance over the lustful urgings of my body. Now I feel the pressure of his passion pressing against my walls as if it were his shaft pressing against my inner core. My heart screams to take him in, but my mind fears the flames. Impasse. Without looking, I know that he stands in the darkness between us naked. I can smell the water and soap from his shower clinging to his skin and the still-damp hair that is falling across his forehead like an unruly mane. Passion has its own smell and I taste its scent upon the air like a perfume. Mine, Mulder's, they blend together until I can't tell where one begins and the other stops. His hands, flowing, caressing, kneading my flesh. Musician's fingers, flexible, sensitive to the tiniest sign of my arousal. My dreams are full of his hands playing me like a fine tuned harp, plucking my passion until my body hums with ecstasy. I can feel the fiery trail of each finger as it searches out my secret places. He knows me, intimate in his awareness of how I long to be touched. No words are ever needed. He has other uses for those lips and I do not begrudge the words. Tonight however, my dream takes on a different form. I have pleasured in the touch of his hands, the suckling of his lips, but now I want to see him in his full glory. I want to see him revealed in his own passionate need. Tonight, I will dream his surrender to my seduction, until he loses that cool exterior he keeps as a mask against the world and begs me for release. I will teach him not to fear the fire, but to embrace it. A dream perhaps, but until I know whether he stands welcoming across the chasm we have carved between us, it is all I have to offer. Where to start? This seduction is new for me. Always before I have dreamed of pleasure received. Effortlessly I summon up the well-known image of his body and study it, not as a doctor or anatomist, but as a lover. A soft sigh escapes me as I dream the possibilities inherent in his body. In the end, there is really no contest. Moving my body close to his, my breasts brush against his chest. The thatch of hair tickles my nipples, arousing them to hypersensitive nubs. I can feel each hair as I breathe deeply, sliding my breasts slightly upwards, before my tongue darts out to flick his nipples. They harden instantly and he swallows a gasp that rumbles in his chest. I definitely have his attention. My hands wander across the silky expanse of his back, idly counting vertebrae as my lips lightly suckle his nipples. Moving from one to the other, barely allowing one to cool before I return to warm it with my tongue and breath. His hands reach out to slide down my back, kneading the tired muscles in my shoulder before tracing the outline of my ribs down to the swell of my hips. I am losing myself in the erotic sensuality of his hands. Even in my fantasy, his hands have the power to bewitch me. My own breathing is ragged as his fingers make lazy circles around the flesh of my hips. Melting in his hands, I struggle to focus. With an effort, I seize control of my dream and Mulder's ass in one swift move. My hands grasp the firm mounds of muscle and pull him against me. I chuckle against his chest, ruffling the hair, as I feel his shaft press against my stomach. His answering chuckle turns into a soft groan as my hand gently cups his balls. Rolling them gently in my hand, my thumb grazes the root of his shaft. The groan he makes sounds like distant thunder rising up from the depths of his soul. I feel him shudder against me, his penis swelling with need. Abruptly, he seizes my lips with his while his hands mimic the journey mine just made. As our tongues entwine, our hands mirror each other in a dance as old as time. We are drowning in each other's pleasure. I reel with the effort to retain control, to pursue my seduction of his control. Resisting the urge to surrender to the rippling waves of pleasure his fingers are coaxing from my clit, I slide my other hand from his ass to grasp the underside of his shaft. Gently, I rub my thumb over the silken tip, milking the first few drops of cum as my other hand begins to stroke his shaft in a strong, sure rhythm. Gone is the slow seduction. I have him now. I will be satisfied with nothing less than his climatic shuddering release. Pushing my own impending climax away, I stalk his until I can feel the shudders seize him, only then do I relax my control and ignite to join him. The sound of a muffled groan startles me out of my dream. Bewildered, I try to focus. I hover on the precipice of release, yet something has shattered the illusion of Mulder's hands pulling me into the center of the nova that envelops us. Another groan, ragged with pain, jars me awake. Mulder. Cautiously, silently, I turn over, praying that the darkness will hide the flush on my skin. My core is slick and I can smell the musky scent of my own arousal. Mulder is panting with the strain to control some deep emotion. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his face. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips, as I try not to imagine that same tongue tasting him as I explore his face. Mulder's own full, lush lips are thinned in a grimace. My eyes travel downward. I smile with sudden, sure certainty. Whatever secrets Mulder's heart and mind intend to keep, his body is testament to the truth. Fate has revealed Mulder's most closely guarded secret to me. The time for dreams is past. I can feel Mulder's effort to quell his passion shake my bones. If we must burn, then let us burn together. "Mulder." I shatter the silence and, with a word, demolish my walls. My voice is deep and rough as I ride the waves of need and anticipation. Mulder's eyes snap open in horrified dismay. He fears me. I must teach him that fear has no place between us. With a flip of my arm, I throw back the sheet and beckon him to join me. I am fire. He surrenders to the flames and our passion consumes all fear. THE
END
Author's note: Semele was a mortal lover of Zeus. When he offered to give her anything she asked for, she asked to see him in his immortal form. When he complied, she was burned to ash by his radiance. |
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