Chainlink
Author - Gnatalie
Feedback - whateverbolditalics@socal.rr.com
Spoilers - Nothing specific.
Rating - NC-17
Classification - VRA
Summary - Things change.
Distribution - With permission only, please.
Disclaimer - These characters are owned by Chris Carter,
Ten Thirteen Productions, and Twentieth Century Fox.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chainlink
by Gnatalie
They were fucking with such force she knew she'd hurt for
days.
She didn't care.
Now was all that mattered, this moment of struggle, of sex,
of love. Her bed had ached for this, she imagined. Finally,
this, rather than the usual sleeping, tossing, lying awake,
the endless thoughts she'd had here. This bed was made for
making love and was now being put to its rightful use.
"Scully," was all he'd said. No words of endearment, no
proclamations of undying affection. She knew already. They
were a chainlinked fence. There was no reason for him to use
the words a normal man would use to woo a normal woman. He'd
said her name, and that was enough.
He'd walked through her door and said her name. That was it.
Simple. Matter-of-fact. His voice and body language brooked
no argument. She gave him a yes with her eyes and he swooped
like a heron, swift and sure, she his forever prey.
And he was hers. They were at once the same species and
enemies. She a lioness, he a hyena, both human and strong and
frail and feral.
Enough of friendship, partnership, questing and questioning,
he'd said with his eyes. Enough of wondering and waiting
and wanting, said hers. "Now," her voice had said. Now was
all.
They kissed not gentle, not sedate, not anything like that.
They kissed fast hard deep, no questions or concerns allowed
to escape the joined mouths. Not gentle. She scratched at
his skin, he pulled on her hair. Clothes were discarded
there and here in no particular order.
They followed no pattern. After kissing her he leaned down
and bit her side; after that she contrasted the sizes of her
hands and his feet. His beardy stubble reddened her shoulder
blade, her neck. She pushed him to the couch and tortured
him with her knee, her thigh between his, no hands. They put
all the pieces together, all the parts they'd wondered at
but never really seen, each completing a mind puzzle kept in
the box for years.
He pushed her to her room, pushed her on the bed, pushed his
teeth against her cunt before she was ready and not soon
enough. He ate at her like a dog, burrowing and licking and
biting as if he'd never see another meal. She almost cried;
from what, she didn't know. Pain or love. No difference
today.
He tasted of salt and sweat and dirt. She was glad and she
didn't want him clean. His dirt was hers today, his dirt in
her bed and on her skin, the past and future unimportant. In
the future they would be cleansed. Now they were dirt and
flesh and hands and mouths and pussies and cocks.
He swiped between her legs and wet her with her scent, wiped
it on himself as well. He growled at her, blood on her lip
from his carelessness.
It was a frenzy like she'd never been part of before. She grabbed
him by the hair, focused his eyes on her long enough for him to
know it was her. That no matter how they fucked it was still her.
That tomorrow it would be her. He agreed and pushed in her,
pushed hard, pushed hard. She shoved against him just as intense,
battered him with her hips, pulling him deep and difficult inside.
Found the spot where she wanted him and grunted so he'd know.
No words, but good, yes, there, yes, more, more, silent but
understood as she raised her hips and her voice and her neck to
the sky. He said her name again, wanted to speak but she wouldn't
hear him. "Later," she told him, and he shoved into her with all
his words lost.
Usually they talked and talked but today they fucked and
fucked, unnecessary words fallen away to be picked up later
and spoken. He bent to her mouth and drank her bloody lip.
He was rough with his hand on her front and her orgasm was
painful and needed. She grabbed at him, go ahead I'm done,
and he did, releasing sound and fury into her, the madness
now complete.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked her when he woke. He licked at
her lip softly, soothed it with a hum.
"No," she finally answered. "You loved me."
"Love can hurt."
"Not yours." She opened her eyes. "It had to be like this,
Mulder; the first time had to be distinguishable from the
rest of it."
"Distinguishable?"
She shifted her weight onto him. "From the work. From
the everyday craziness. From life as we knew it."
"Is that life over?" He stroked her arm, the touch soft and
cottony.
Yes. "I can't go back to it, Mulder." She looked at him. "I
won't." She kissed him, a hello. He'd started this and now
she'd finish it. "I'll go back to the work. I'll go back to
the craziness. But I won't say goodnight to you over the
phone again. I'll say it face to face, and that's how I'll
say good morning too."
"Good," he said on a yawn. "I hoped you wouldn't fight me on
this."
"I might as well fight the rain," she murmured into his
chest. "Good night."
"Good night," he echoed. "Good morning. Good afternoon."
"Sleep," she ordered, and he pulled her all the way on top
of him like a blanket. Her muscles were already complaining
and it would be worse in the morning.
She didn't care.
********
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