TITLE:   Drowning in You
AUTHOR:  Jacquie LaVa
Category:  MSR, Vignette, Musings
Rating:   R
Disclaimer:  In my universe, Mulder and Scully bop like space
bunnies... in their regular orbit around CC, they just chase them... 
I'm betting they like my place a whole lot better!
Spoilers:  Not a one!

THANKS:    To Sissy T for last-minute beta and continuous enthusiasm
and support!  To the Sisters Spooky for their collective approval,
which is always treasured -
           And to beduini for not minding the 'kinder, gentler'
smut... and for also providing wonderful beta!

SUMMARY:  'He may know how to swim, but right now he wants to
drown...'


"DROWNING IN YOU"


Sometimes he drowns in her.  Willingly, he succumbs to the waves.

When it's very late at night and they've spent themselves in
conversation; when the last sip of wine has been swallowed and the
candles are lit... he begins to lose oxygen. He knows what comes
next, after the wine and the candles.  He forgets to breathe. 

All evening he's thought about it, pictured it in his mind - dwelled
upon it.  Though his voice hasn't dropped or risen in timbre; though
he's answered all her questions and laughed with her, teased and
kidded her, as usual... he's been dwelling there, in that other
room.  The room that smells of her soap and her shampoo, smells of
her very essence; the room with all the candles, and the white down-
filled comforter upon the four-poster bed.  He smiles at her and he
talks to her, but his spirit is already in that room, on that bed.  

Waiting to drown.

Sometimes she's tired, and dark circles ring her blue eyes. 
Sometimes her soft mouth turns down a little at the corners.  On
those late evenings, she never lets him know it - that she needs more
from him than just a word or three... she simply takes his hand, and
pulls him with her, into the room where he's been waiting for her
hour upon hour, all within his fertile mind.

Drowning... as soon as his feet pass over the threshold of that
other world.


Their days are spent with any number of singular horrors - in their
line of duty it can't be helped.  Some days they bicker and pick at
each other, shooting down opposing theories with deadly accuracy. He
yells and she maintains icy composure; she loses her patience and he
chews his pencils into useless lumps of wood.  Sometimes, right in
the thick of it, they'll both stop and stare at each other - quite
forgetting who started what and whose theory was the oddest -
they'll stop and stare, and each will remember what's most beloved
about the other... and she'll smile a blindingly sweet smile, and
he'll melt into it -

He finds himself drowning all over again.

They see each other several evenings a week, and he wants it to be
every night.  But he knows she needs a respite from him, sometimes. 
He's a demanding person and a needy lover; he knows this.  He tends
to forget that these quirks of his make him all the  more precious to
her - she told him so once, and after his ears stopped burning with
embarrassed heat he returned her words with deeds, painted upon her
body with trembling hands whose tactile worship shook her to
the bone.  After that, he never worried if she couldn't handle his
desire, for it was plain she could.  But still... everyone needs a
break now and then.  Therefore, he tries to be good, and tries to
give her what he thinks she needs.

When he's not with her he wonders what she may be doing, alone in her
soft candlelit room cozied up into the down-filled comforter on her
feminine bed.  He wants to call her, but she needs this time away
from him, so he behaves himself and lets her be.  And he sits alone
on his sofa and pretends to be engrossed in no particular movie, yet
deep in his soul he's hoping she'll call...

She does.  

She calls him on his cell phone and he lets it ring no less than
once and no more than twice, before he picks it up and speaks low
into the mouthpiece.  And she always replies with a smile in her
equally-soft voice.

"You knew it was me... why did you let it ring twice?"

"I didn't want to seem anxious... trying to play hard-to-get."

"Too late, Partner... I've got you.  Come over?"

"Are you sure?  You seemed tired..."

"Never of you, Mulder... come over."  

And all the way to her place, he's wading; waves breaking upon his
chest, right at heart-level; curling into his chin, filling his eyes
and splashing up over his dark hair... 

Until he's drowning.  

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Ten candles, all white; tapers and columns and votives perched upon
chosen spots around the room and flickering gently against the
walls.  She turned back the bedcovers when he wasn't looking, when
he was in her bathroom washing his hands; staring at his reflection
in her mirror and awestruck yet again at his good fortune, that she
loves him truly.  The bathroom smells of her; that fragrance he
adores  which clings to her and engulfs him every time she comes
near.  He finds a crystal bottle on the sink, filled with pale green 
liquid; he pulls on the stopper and inhales the contents, closing
his eyes as he soaks in her essence. Intoxicating... and he opens 
his eyes and looks at the man in the mirror; the true portrait of 
a man in love.  

That man gazing back at him is one lucky bastard; he's got the
world wrapped up in one small, dainty package that smells of spicy
flowers and whose satiny skin winds all around him, pressed up
against him as he regards his reflection.  Her step was so quiet, he
never heard her come into the bathroom.  Her lovely face peeks over
his shoulder as he looks past his reflection, and he meets her tired
blue eyes.  She doesn't have a stitch of clothing on her body, and
all of her tender softness rubs into his sensitive back.  She winds
bare arms around his waist and tugs gently at his shirt; her mouth
runs along the curve of one shoulder.  She speaks a few choice words
into his warm skin, and the waves come up over his knees again,
heading straight for his heart.

"Come to bed..."

He may know how to swim, but right now he wants to drown.

Tonight she seems especially small; it's been a rough day and that
worry-furrow between her eyes doesn't want to leave her.  They don't
talk shop this late at night, when they're both so weary - better to
let the rocking motion of the waves cushion them and carry them
aloft.  Or maybe it's just that she's rocking, upon his body.  

He'd intended to take care of her tonight but she wouldn't 
let him, claiming that he has got to be even wearier than she is
because her work centered around an autopsy, but his involved digging
up the body she dissected. Once those words are spoken he knows she
won't change her mind, any more than she'd ruin the mood by
expounding further on the grim tasking of their tiring day.  

She places one small hand in the center of his chest and pushes him
until he's on his back against her cool white sheets.  She makes
short, precise work of ridding him of his soft, faded jeans, and the 
equally-faded tee shirt that's seen better days.  She pulls off his
socks and slips off his shorts. And he watches her so tenderly,
noting the furrow between her eyes has become a frown of 
concentration.  She studies every inch of him, her eyes going dark 
with emotion at the way his golden tanned skin against her white
sheets makes them look very special. Her lips part and her hoarse 
words pull him under.

"I love your body, Mulder - you're so beautiful..."  

He should be saying those very words to her, for in the candlelight
every inch of her is beyond lovely... the deep red-gold of her hair
and the liquid blue of her eyes.  The slender shape of her, just
enough for him to hold comfortably in his arms.  But tonight she
said the words first, so he'll save his thoughts for later -  he'll
whisper them to her, later.  

She leans into him and over him, her parted lips taking his in the
softest and sweetest of kisses.  Rosy mouth and sugared-candy tongue;
he tastes the wine lingering there, and swallows her equally sweet
breath.  They had a rough day today, and she spent the better part of
it controlled by the sort of circumstance which comes with the
territory of their profession.

Tonight she needs the control, and he's happy to let her have it -
glad to be slipping under those tempest waters, and drowning once
more.

The sequential cadence of her kisses follows a path he adores, and
tonight is no different, yet just as wondrous.  She keeps his mouth
too busy to do more than utter breathless groans, as her lips and
tongue seek him out and claim him inch by delicious inch.  Satin-
slick, the wet sweep of her tongue, over and around first his upper
lip and then his fuller, lower one.  Tickling deep inside the heat of
his mouth; she hums as she kisses him, hands on either side of his
head keeping him captive against her hunger - as if he'd ever want
to get away.  

She polishes each of his teeth, lovingly; twines his tongue into
hers and holds him prisoner for endless moments as his fingers
grip and tense upon her back and along her narrow sides, until he can
cup her breasts, stroking them gently.  She lets her body curve around
his hot skin, wriggling in an agonizingly slow tease, until she has
her hips positioned in exactly the right place to take him, deep
inside her where he's sure her ache is the greatest and the waves
are the most powerful.  Tonight she requires very little in the way of
preparation; she seems bone-weary but amazingly it's times like these
when he can tell her body is the most voracious and needful.  They
fit together in the best possible way; not quite pain, yet friction
enough to make them both cry out softly; still connected at the
mouth and bound up, soul to soul.

And she rocks upon him, deep and sure and strong; she rocks her body
into him and he drowns, as always... drowns in her.  Her breath
comes in rasping hitches, as her body picks up urgency and speed. 
He gives up pieces of himself as she moves on him and takes him
further and further inside.  A large section of his heart breaks off
and merges with hers, gladly and willingly; the truest and most
dedicated slices of his soul find a way to meld with hers as well. 
A flood of love crashes through the waves engulfing his senses, and
seeks haven in her driving body; she accepts it all with a smile of
pure delight, as she finally pulls free of his mouth and allows both
of them a chance to regain needed oxygen.  

But still he's drowning... he doesn't need to breathe.  Tonight he
just needs to feel everything.  And he does.

He presses a careful finger or two into her, right where she's
joined to him; and the feel of him pressing on her tight nerve
endings forces a choked cry from her throat.  She is moving faster
now, braced against his chest with both hands as he rubs at her
again, and again... he loves the way she tightens all around him, and
he knows she is very close.  No lifejacket in sight, for him; he is
sinking deeper; spiraling down into those hot dark depths so
willingly.  Deeper... harder.  Longer... rougher.  Did she speak the
words, or did he?  It doesn't matter.  One final slam onto him and
she throws back her head and sends forth a shuddering cry, the raw
sound of it bouncing off the candlelit walls.  And he's not far
behind her; the waves have completely taken him over and he's dying;
he's bucking beneath her; he's drowning... shouting for a
lifejacket... shouting for her; to her.

"Sculleeee...!!!"

Tonight he is drowning but she doesn't let him go there
alone; tonight she joins him in the fathomless depths and loses
herself, as well.  Somewhere within his exhausted body he summons the
strength to actually form a coherent sentence, as he cradles her
close, still atop his damp body and still joined to him.  He needs
the slight, comforting weight of her upon him - to reassure him that
he didn't dream it; that she really did love him that thoroughly, and
that perfectly.  His low rumble vibrates her cheek.

"Don't move, 'kay?  Let me fall asleep in you... just like this...
drowning in you."  And she smiles against his chest and nods, lifting 
one boneless arm to tug at the covers, until they are wrapped up in 
soft down, warmly fused to each other.  Under the calming waves, 
they whisper a matched set of 'Love You'... and they sleep.

Sometimes he drowns... and when he does he takes her with him.  

And willingly, she goes.

End