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  This author's e-mail address has changed to: xanaduxf@yahoo.com
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***DISCLAIMER***: All "X-Files" elements and references
in this story belong to Fox Broadcasting, Chris Carter,
and 1013 Productions, and I am making no money from it.

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Dry
by shannono
shannono@iname.com


Vignette, MSR, rated PG, no spoilers

Summary: Ocean breezes and salt spray.

Thanks: To Brandon for beta reading, and with apologies for
leaving him off the posted version. :)

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Dry
by shannono


My lips were dry the first time he kissed me.

My skin was chapped by the salt in the air and the wind blowing 
in from the ocean, and his full lips caught and dragged, skipping
across the rough surface of mine. He pulled back, just long 
enough for me to run my tongue around my mouth, adding a little
wetness.

And then he kissed me again, fully, his mouth gentle but firm 
against mine, his hands on my hips, pulling me inexorably closer.
I went willingly, my own hands rising to wrap around his biceps,
drawing his upper body down to even out the height difference.

We met in the middle, as we so often do. Our mouths opened at 
nearly the same instant, the tips of our tongues touching and 
teasing for a few seconds before continuing on to seek out each
other's taste.

I found what I expected, the salt of his ever-present sunflower
seeds, perhaps mingled with seaspray, and the sweet tang of the
orange juice he drank in the cottage a while ago. I could conjure
up no specific words to describe the remaining flavor, so I 
simply classified it as him and moved on.

Taste, texture, sound, smell all blended into a kaleidoscope of
pleasure deep inside me. Bright colors raced out along every 
nerve ending and burst into the air between us, blending there
with his own distinctive hues and shading. We created a new 
color all our own, shimmery and sensual and uniquely us; I could
see its vibrant tones painted on the insides of my closed eyelids.

And then I wanted to see if it was really there, so I opened my
eyes.

Color assaulted me as I did, but not from some imagined rainbow
of sensation. It was his eyes, looking into mine as we kissed,
the thin irises a curious mixture of green and gold and brown
around the wide black pupils.

I was fascinated. Automatically, my mind began to offer up
explanations: how sexual response and arousal results in dilated
pupils; how a certain combination of genetics can produce 
multicolored, hazel eyes; how blood rushing to the skin and sex
organs results in the male erection ...

That last thought snapped me out of my clincial detachment, and
I shuddered as I felt, really felt, his erection pressed against
me for the first time. I've seen him with an erection before,
several times; after six years, it would have been unusual if I
hadn't. But I'd never acknowledged one, and I've certainly never
had my entire body pressed against his from chest to knees and
my mouth on his while he had one.

I felt my moan rising through my throat and into my mouth, where
he immediately swallowed it and offered up an answer into mine. 
His hands tightened on me, one sliding around to my lower back 
and drawing me closer. I reciprocated, my own hands moving to 
his back and the back of his neck, pulling his head further down
toward mine and allowing my eyes to slide shut again.

Time lost all meaning as we kissed on the beach, buffeted by
the seabreeze, fingers of foam licking at our bare feet. Our
shoes sat inside the little cottage I'd rented for the weekend,
where I'd planned to bring some order to the chaotic thoughts
and feelings that had flooded me in the past few weeks. One day
to make the decisions, another to allow me to change my mind
before I took action.

But he'd shown up this morning, bringing breakfast as both 
peace offering and apology for disturbing my solitude. And 
I'd discovered that solitude wasn't what I wanted. Or needed.

All I needed was him.

We'd joked and laughed as we ate, and then he'd chased me down 
onto the beach, both of us shouting and giggling like children
as we ran. He caught me at the edge of the surf, and I was 
smiling when I turned my face up toward his ...

And my lips were dry as he kissed me.