From: Shannon To: whispers list Subject: [XFNC17ff] NEW: Lost and Found, 1/1, NC-17, M/Sc, M/K Date: Tuesday, January 01, 2002 7:58 PM Lost and Found by Shannon Kizzia (lmelao@earthlink.net) Website: http://www.angelfire.com/scifi/xtasy/shannon.html Rating: NC-17 Category: V, SRA Keywords: M/Sc, M/K established relationship, Scully POV Spoilers: None (There's a Hollywood A.D. reference. Nothing big.) Archive: Yes! But let me know where, okay? :) Disclaimer: I don't own them and everybody knows it. Sigh. Summary: "I'm okay, you know." I leaned down to peek up into your clouded face. So many clouds. You looked up at me. "Are you?" I laid my hand on your thigh and you flinched. "Mulder, nothing's changed." But what I said then was true. "You can't lose me." Notes: This is a sequel to "Trust, Fear, Regret, and Aftershave" which is on my page. (See above URL.) It's not necessary that you read that first, but they are meant to compliment each other and perhaps shed light on each other, so it wouldn't be a bad idea. Mulder's turn will be next. ;) I'm not sure who's going to like these vignettes. LOL! It would be MSR but Mulder loves Krycek. It would be slash, but Mulder and Scully have sex. What can I say? It's complicated. I hope you read and enjoy it just the same. :) Thanks: To my Satina for her invaluable help with this one!! Lost and Found by Shannon Kizzia That night you came to me, I had just gotten out of the bath. I toweled off quickly, the humid bathroom air still clinging to me as I pulled on my thick, white robe. I knew it was you. I could feel you crying through the door and it made me ache. And then I saw you and the ache worsened, deepened, became my pain as well as yours. "Mulder?" I asked as I held the door open wide for you and stood aside. You wouldn't even look at me, your eyes trained on the floor, still swimming. "Mulder, what's wrong?" I tried again, reaching up, taking your coat off your shoulders. I turned you to face me, letting the trench fall to the floor, unimportant. It took no force. The slightest little suggestion from me, a soft hand on your shoulder, and you turned for me. Like a frightened child. You looked at me then and I touched your face. Your cheeks were damp with your tears. "Is it Alex?" I prodded as gently as I could, sure I was right but needing you to tell me if only by your silence and the sad, lost look in your eyes. You still said nothing, but I nodded. "It's okay, Mulder," I soothed, wanting you to know I would listen, I would hold you. "It's okay," I repeated in a whisper, raising my other hand to your face, and stroking the stubble across your jaw with my thumbs. I expected you to hug me, to grip me with your hands and cry out all your uncried losses hunched over against my shoulder as is our tradition. Instead you sank to the floor, onto your knees, out of my hands. You laid your forehead against my belly, hands on my hips, strong. So strong. Stronger than I expected, weak as you looked from sorrow. I gasped and froze, knowing I was naked under my robe, knowing you couldn't know that, scared of you being so close, so lost, out of control. I could hear you breathing deeply, trying not to cry again. I wondered if you could smell me, lavender scented now but also something dark and hot and needy that I couldn't stop and didn't want you knowing about. I let my hands settle on your hair and tried to relax. I wanted to be what you needed, to think only of you and forget myself. And then you lifted your face away from me and pulled the edges of my robe apart beneath the tie and I gasped again. My heart beat wildly in terror, in shock, in a rage of anticipation. I couldn't move, naked from the waist down in front of you. You nestled your nose into my pubic hair and I felt you on my clitoris and you were smelling me. Not just smelling me. Breathing me. Your hands cupped my bottom and you breathed raggedly against me, turning your head slowly left and right, burrowing in between my labia, your lips soft and undemanding on me. I could do nothing. Could say nothing. Couldn't stop you. Couldn't encourage you. I just waited, wide-eyed, with your hot breath on my sex. Before I could think to breathe myself, your tongue came out of your mouth and you began licking at my slit. I grabbed for the bookcase behind me and tensed my fingers in your hair, closing my eyes. I groaned. My head was back and my voice not my own. You licked me over and over again, coaxing me to a wet like hot, slick, melted honey against your face. I was having such strange thoughts, wondering if it was rude to be so wet, to get you so messy with my arousal. Hoping it was okay that I so obviously wanted you and wanted what you were doing to me. Wondering if you wanted me to stop you. Wondering what you would think of your partner if she spread her legs just a little bit more instead. Whimpering when I did it and you growled against my sensitive clit. I looked down at you and that proved to be too much...seeing you so uninhibitedly, enthusiastically feasting on me. You. You, Mulder. Having turned us into lovers in a fast, irretrievable moment. I came, whether it was right or not, my head back again, mouth open, crying out to the ceiling, hearing you slurp and breathe and hum with me through my climax. My legs were shaking and your fingers dug into the soft flesh of my ass. You held me up so I didn't fall, but I stumbled awkwardly. Still your warm mouth remained glued between my legs. When it was over, I whispered down to you, "Okay." You took your mouth away and leaned your head against my leg, trembling. Your hands slid down the backs of my legs in exhaustion. I followed you down to the floor, kneeling at your side, reaching out to stroke you again, and you fell against me, head to my breast, and cried. **** You wanted to sleep on the couch. I didn't ask you why. And I didn't ask if it was okay if I slept with you there. I saw the need in your eyes and knew there would be more crying and I wanted to be there to make it stop. I put on a t-shirt while you stripped down to your boxers and laid down on your side. There had been no discussion beyond my asking where you wanted to sleep. "Are you thirsty, Mulder?" You nodded and I got you another glass of water and a straw so you wouldn't have to sit all the way up. I sat on the floor and we shared it in silence until it was gone and I set the glass on the coffee table. I turned the TV on to CNN and muted it like I know you do and settled in for the night, my back to your front. Your bare knees were tucked in warm behind mine. Your left arm wrapped around me and I held your hand to my heart and like that I think you fell asleep and then I did. I woke in the middle of the night to the feel of you trying to take my shirt off. You couldn't raise my right arm without being something less than gentle and though I could feel your desperation in the scalding, quick breaths against my hair and neck and in the way your erection was growing up against my bottom, you were so careful. "Wait," I said and I felt you panic. But I wasn't stopping you. I pulled the shirt off over my head and leaned back into you, naked. I felt you pushing your shorts down your legs hurriedly and sighed, waiting, just ready to feel you, let you have me in any way you wanted or needed. When you were done, you lifted my left leg and laid it over yours, positioning your penis between my thighs. I leaned back and wrapped my arm around your neck, behind your head, turning my face to press my lips underneath your jaw once as you took yourself in hand and slipped your cockhead into me. You turned and rested your forehead against my temple and took several calming, shuddering breaths, holding yourself barely inside me. When you were ready, you slid the rest of the way in and we both groaned with it. Your right hand came underneath my head, palm up, holding me like a warm, living pillow and I took your left hand which was holding my hip and guided it to my breast. I left my hand over yours and together we squeezed at my flesh from time to time, fingers twining often and sometimes my fingers caressing over the backs of yours. You started a tender, shallow rhythm, rocking us both on the couch and it felt like we were out at sea on calm waters, drifting and making love like normal people. Your lips were turned to my ear so I could hear every change in the way you were breathing. I felt the puff of warm air when you started softly grunting and moving faster in and out of me. Your fingers started to pull repeatedly on my nipple, trying to bring me with you. It felt so wonderful that I let you do it for a few moments and then I stilled your hand with mine, pressing your palm to the erect bud and starting to shove my pelvis back into yours, arching my back to let you penetrate further. I wanted you not to worry about me, to not try to make this something it wasn't. "Scully..." you started. "No talking," I answered a little breathless. "Keep going." You started taking short, hard thrusts and you groaned louder through gritted teeth. I couldn't help answering back in small, delicate moaning cries. I wanted it for you, but you were making it feel so good. Suddenly you came, your fingers curling tight in my hair and around my breast, your hips bucking erratically, your heated, snarling grunts in my ear sending tingles down my spine. I squeezed the muscles of my vagina tight around you as you finished and then sunk back spent into the cushions. I relaxed with you, catching my breath and feeling your chest rise and fall against my back. Soon your hand loosened on my breast and you let it slide south to rest across my abdomen. Your shaft softened slowly and slipped out of me. We laid there breathing, pooled together tired and quiet, and we fell asleep again in the shine and shadow of the television. When I woke, you were gone. **** "We need to talk, Scully." It was you looking as guilty as I'd ever seen you, standing in my doorway, shoulders slumped. I nodded and stood aside. "I know." You came in and looked confused as though you weren't sure where to be or how to start or even why you'd come. "I was just making some tea. Would you like some?" I asked, already on my way to the kitchen. "Yeah." You shed your leather jacket and sat in one of my dining room chairs, upright and uncomfortable. I yelled in, "I'm putting a little whiskey and honey in mine, you want some?" "Sounds good," you answered. After I had two steaming mugs ready, mine yellow, yours green, I brought them out into the living room. "Come over to the couch, Mulder," I said gently. "Stay awhile." You looked uneasy. And I remembered. The couch. The deed. I may be the Catholic but your guilt far out-weighs mine, Mulder. You ambled over despite your discomfort and I handed you your spiked tea as we sat, close but not touching. You wrapped your hands around the mug's warmth. "Are you cold?" I asked and you shook your head looking down into the steam. I blew on mine to cool it and took a tentative sip then set it down on a coaster. I took a breath. "You didn't want to talk about it the other day." "I know." "You left." I didn't say it to accuse. "I know." "I'm okay, you know." I leaned down to peek up into your clouded face. So many clouds. You looked up at me. "Are you?" I laid my hand on your thigh and you flinched. "Mulder, nothing's changed." But what I said then was true. "You can't lose me." Your eyes told me, I squeezed your leg through your jeans and then took my hand away. You drank, more to just do something than because you wanted it I think. "I love you," you told me, looking down again. "I know, Mulder. I love you, too. So much." Truer words never spoken. "But...?" "Alex Krycek," I said after a pause. You looked up at me with almost-brown eyes, shiny again with tears. Too many tears lately for you. "You love him, too," I said and you smiled sadly. I scooted closer and took your mug away, placing it next to mine then I placed my hands on your knees. "You love him very much." I watched your tears fall out of your eyes and onto your cheeks then. "And you need him, Mulder." "Doesn't matter," you said, a child-like pout in your deep voice. "Why not?" "Because. He ran." "He's hurting." You shook your head. "Yes. He is, Mulder," I argued with your denial. "But you can help him. You can heal him." You cocked your head at me and I raised my eyebrows. "Even if that's true," you started, "what about us?" "Are you going to tell him?" "I think I have to." I nodded, understanding the truth of it. "Well, he'll have to understand. And if he doesn't, you'll have to make him." You laughed sardonically, like I looked down at my hands on your knees. "It's not ever going to be easy, Mulder." You nodded, no longer laughing, then you looked back up at me, drawing my gaze like a magnet. You enunciated perfectly letting me know what you meant. "What about us?" I blushed and let a small smile flit about my lips, but my chest got tight suddenly. "Well...I'm assuming...as...amazing as it was," I peeked up at you under my lashes and saw you smile, "that we can't...that we probably shouldn't..." "Probably," you echoed sadly. My heart hurt just a little more. I don't know what I expected. It looked like it hurt you too, though, to see what we could have and then take that step back away from it, from us at our full potential. But maybe it just didn't hurt enough. I lifted my hand to your cheek and said it before I could stop myself. "I'll never say no to you." Your head jerked up at that in surprise and my eyes twinkled at you, told you, "What are friends for?" "I didn't think *that*!" you exclaimed and I laughed. "Well, we're more than friends, Mulder. You know that." My hands dropped back to your knees. "But you belong with him." Your eyes searched mine to see if I was just reading from my Being the Best Friend You Can Be script. I suppose I was. It wouldn't have hurt to say it otherwise. But it was what you needed to hear, what you needed from me to make it okay to go to him. And I could see your need for him so plain in that moment. "You and I will always have what we have. We're fine, Mulder." My eyes burned and I swallowed, unwilling to let him see. "You need to go make things right with him." You took my hand, lifted it, brought it to your lips, and kissed the knuckles almost reverently. I lifted my other hand to your hair and sifted my fingers through its silkiness. No wonder he fell for you, Mulder. God, you're almost too beautiful. "Thank you," you whispered against my skin. "Always," I told you with everything in me. We took a moment to look at each other and then sighed. "You should drink your tea before it gets cold," I told you. Then when you'd complied with my request, "Where do you think he is?" "I'm not sure. But I have to try to find him." "Well, stay a few minutes and get warm. It's so cold outside." You nodded. "You don't by any chance own 'Ed Wood', do you Scully?" I smiled, pleased you had apparently decided to stay for a while, whether because you needed the company or needed time before finding Alex or just really were in the mood for "Ed Wood". It didn't matter. "Well, no I don't, but there's a Video Barn right around the corner. And they deliver," I added dramatically. Or what I thought sounded dramatic for me. "Get out," you said and it was so good to see you smile. We watched the movie and you went home leaving me with a kiss to my cheek. Your lips lingered there and I thought you might try to make it more. I didn't give you the chance, stepping back and saying good night. The next night you came over with playing cards and I beat you at Canasta. The next night we just sat and read together. The next night, tonight, you didn't come. I'm lying in my bed wide awake thinking of you. I want so badly for you to be all right. I think you must have found him. I think you must be with him. I think any pain I feel at having to share you -- your time, your intensity, your love -- is minimal compared to the pain that seizes me when you're without him and hurting. I'll call you tomorrow to check up on you. I'll trust that tonight you are okay on your own. Without me. I'll continue to lie here in the dark until I fall asleep. I'll think of us out on that couch, loving each other too late and with strange and complicated motivations. And I'll cherish it, Mulder. I'll cherish you. And I know I'm never lost because just as I am here to find you, you'll help to find me. Always. End Well? You cryin'? I'm cryin'! Jeez! Feedback sniffled over at lmelao@earthlink.net!