From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 11 Oct 2002 05:06:55 -0000 Subject: Engendered, by XL (NC-17) by xochiluvr Source: direct Reply To: xochiluvr@surfacing.com Title: Engendered Author: XochiLuvr E-mail: xochiluvr@surfacing.com Category: MSR and more. Archive: Ephemeral, Gossamer. Others: Please ask. Rating: This story was originally rated R for sex, but the committee for Scully-Mulder Mating (CSM, Inc) filed an injunction against Engendered requesting the rating be upped to NC-17. You have been warned. Feedback: Please. Summary: For nearly a decade, the entirety of his lingerie knowledge had been garnered from tapes that didn't belong to him, and was therefore comprised mostly of leather and latex, with perhaps a little satin thrown in strategically. Given that, the astonishingly brief silk ensemble in front of him, even mostly covered by the shimmering robe, left the majority of his post-adolescent fantasies trembling in submissive adoration. The rest stood up and did the wave. Notice: It seems this one never made it to Eph or Gossamer. I will be posting a sequel to this fic in the next week or two, so I figured a repost was in order. Dedication: I was gonna write something about Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson, but I've been informed that might piss off some female readers. You know who you are, and what you mean to me. ---------- Engendered ----- It seemed like hours had passed since she'd left the room in favor of a leisurely bath, but it had in fact been considerably less. Enough time, however, for him to change boxers and tee shirts twice, call room service to have their finest bottle of wine delivered, and reconfirm their plane tickets for the next day. His stomach was trying out for the High Jump in the next Olympics. By the time the door reopened, the ice in the polished silver bucket was well on the way from solid to liquid. The figure of beauty emerging from the bathroom was literally steaming. She was, in all honesty, a wet dream. Complete with hair still dripping lightly on the linoleum floor as she re-wrapped a towel around her head and stepped out onto the plush carpeting. A fine mist of evaporated water billowed around her as she closed the door behind her. For nearly a decade, the entirety of his lingerie knowledge had been garnered from tapes that didn't belong to him, and was therefore comprised mostly of leather and latex, with perhaps a little satin thrown in strategically. Given that, the astonishingly brief silk ensemble in front of him, even mostly covered by the shimmering robe, left the majority of his post-adolescent fantasies trembling in submissive adoration. The rest stood up and did the wave. "Wow." Grin. "What? This old thing?" Leer. "You're not that old." Eyebrow. "I meant the outfit." Smirk. "Com'ere. Gimme a kiss." ----- Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena. - Christopher Marlowe, from Dr. Faustus ----- Her breath smelled of toothpaste and Scope, and he realized his was most likely reminiscent of cheap champagne and lobster bisque. He broke the kiss, grabbed a small bag from beside the armoire, and stepped into the still-humid bathroom. As the water streamed from the shower head to cascade down his shoulders, he considered the transformation he'd witnessed today. It was almost impossible to reconcile the two ladies in the other room as being the same person. One was the hardened Bureau Agent and doctor he'd known for so long. So... stoic, an implacable wall of professionalism. The other was the little girl he'd encountered for almost the first time, giggling at times and crying at others. A large bundle of emotions compressed into such a small body. And what a hot little body it was. While they were together earlier, dancing, it had taken a Herculean effort to get his erection to subside even partially. It would've been quite embarrassing to have been caught in so obvious a state of arousal in so public a place, the event notwithstanding. Now, away from from prying eyes, it had returned, ascending again to rigidity as he thought of her. He quickly rinsed and dried himself off, brushed his teeth, donned yet another tee shirt and pair of boxer shorts, re-assembled his shaving kit after removing something from its side pocket, and exited back into the bedroom. She wasn't there. He walked into the kitchenette, where he discovered two wet towels in a plastic bag, over to the main room and the front door (still locked and chained from the inside), and back into the bedroom. Then he spotted a lump, buried in the center of the California King-sized mattress, under a sheet, blanket, and comforter, none of which had even been untucked from under the bed. The hem of a short silk robe peeked out from the bottom drawer of a bedside dresser. He sneaked over to the bottom edge of the mattress and kneeled down, moved his hands under the bedclothes, and ambushed his buried treasure by tickling the soles of her feet. "Mmrph!" "Just making sure it was really you under there." Grin. "You were expecting someone else?" she replied, pushing down the covers as he sat down facing her and started massaging her feet. Leer. "Expecting the unexpected is wha..." His gasp was audible. Eyebrow. "You were saying?" Smirk. This time, hers. ----- Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a `Diver' - Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest. Her heart is fit for home - I - a Sparrow - build there Sweet twigs and twine My perennial nest. - Emily Dickinson ----- "You do realize that thing is almost transparent, right?" "Nice of you to notice. Do you plan on playing with my feet all night and staring at my chest, or would you care to explore elsewhere?" "It's a nice chest, and it's almost one a.m. Where would we go this time of -oof!-" "You know you deserved that. Just remember I've got three more pillows up here." "Yes, dear. Coming dear. Would you like some wine first, dear?" "Maybe later. After." It was difficult to stay conscious as more blood escaped his head and moved south at high speed. 'After.' Inferring that this was 'before.' Most importantly, his oxygen-starved brain realized, there would be a 'during.' If he lived that long. Again, wow. On his knees, he moved up the oversized bed and took her in his arms. As they relaxed into an embrace, her unrestrained breasts rubbed against his chest through the two thin layers of clothing. The sweet friction caused her nipples to become engorged, standing at attention against the flimsy material. His erection, three-quarters of the way there already, quickly followed suit. As it throbbed against the outside of her thigh, she tensed, all her leg muscles becoming taut. Watching the sinewy muscle covered by skin and skirt had always been a turn on for him, but actually feeling it was infinitely more erotic. He touched his lips to hers, gently, but firmly. She'd known for years his interest in her athleticism, and her belly rippled in a silent giggle at the memories that resurfaced. He smiled as he broke the kiss, thinking she was laughing at the idea that they were both hard. Pulling until she sat on her feet between his legs, he leaned forward and kissed her, lightly, before exploring the rest of her face with lips and tongue and fingertips. He nipped one ear first, then licked and sucked the lobe, before shifting to apply the same sweet caress to the other. Moving down, he nibbled at her collarbone and traced the arteries in her neck with his tongue, reveling in her shivers and quiet gasps. Without warning, he dropped his head several inches and latched onto one of her nipples through her pajama top, and sucked. Hard. This gasp echoed throughout the room, and could have been translated as his name. He smiled, but continued his oral ministrations. One of his hands moved to cup and caress her other breast. Occasionally, he switched. Eventually she pulled herself from his lips and his free hand, formerly caressing her thigh, moved to replace his mouth. Although the lovers considered the situation highly erotic they smiled, finding humor in the sounds of labored breathing normally produced post-coitus, not pre. Grin. "Clothes." Leer. "Cold?" Tweak-tweak. Eyebrow. "uhh... off." No, not cold. Not at all. Smirk. His fingers moved to the buttons of her top, but she grabbed his wrists, blushed, and moved his hands away from her body. ----- May I love you for a moment? Undress you in the light of honesty Soul against soul, passion pressed to passion Hanging on by a thread To the truth that we are more than just friends? - Christine McNamara, "May I?" ----- She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head and left it there, momentarily blinding and binding him. Before he could protest, she hopped off the bed, and by the time he untangled himself, the hotel room was bathed in darkness. "You went from risque to reserved pretty quick there, partner." "Not at all. Just setting the mood," she replied, moving from one side of the room to the other and turning the bedside lamps on to their lowest setting, before returning to her place beside him. Before removing the shirt, unassisted this time, he pulled from his pocket the small package he'd removed from the kit earlier, and threw the shirt to the far corner of the room. She looked at him closely, glanced down to the condom in his hands, and back to his face. Without moving her eyes from his, she shook her head, took the packet from his opened palm, and dropped it to the floor. Hunter became hunted as she threw off the short gown, climbed on top of him, and kissed his eyelids. She whispered endearments in his ears before sucking lightly on his lobes as he had done to her moments earlier, smiling at the quiet, desperate sounds she could pull from him. She softly nibbled the tip of his nose, then ducked down, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Her legs astride his, his erection rubbing firmly between their half-clothed bodies, his hands grasped her breasts firmly, fingers curling to lightly stroke the edges while his palms put pressure on her nipples and kept her upper body trapped aloft, inches from his. Holding that position for any length of time was awkward, so after a few minutes of frenzied kissing he eased her down onto him and moved them closer to the headboard before rolling over and pushing up from her. Reaching an arm around his neck, she pulled him forcefully back to her body, needing to feel his weight, needing to know this was real, that _they_ were real. A kiss. The world hadn't ended; a new one was just beginning. "I love you." She whispered in his ear. He didn't answer, but she felt a single tear rain against her cheek as he lifted his head from hers. She said it again, only to be silenced by his fingers on her lips. They moved from there, tracing an imaginary path down her jaw, her neck, the freckled valley between her breasts, around the scar on her abdomen, past her belly button, resting finally on the edge of her panties. With precision, his lips and tongue followed the same path, licking here, sucking there, kissing random points in between. Where his hand stopped his mouth continued, kissing her through the fabric, biting the edges and tugging gently, then soothing the wrinkles with his tongue. Taking the hint, she pushed with her legs and arched her back, lifting her hips and allowing his hands to pull down and remove her final barrier. She didn't need to open her eyes to know he was removing his boxers as well. The bed's movements and the two muted sounds in opposite corners of the room told her all she needed. She drew up her knees as he moved back to her. The time is now. She tensed as, to her surprise, he came to rest with his head just above her stomach, and instead of penetrating her, one of his hands moved to part her folds, and the other began to stroke her inner lips. Spreading her juices and making her writhe and moan, his fingers moved gently, running the length of her opening, softly caressing her clit every time they made the return trip. As each circuit was completed she relaxed a bit more until her body barely moved, only her head as it moved side to side with her quiet gasps and moans. Without warning, her climax hit. Her back arched, her mouth moved in a silent cry, her arms flailed. She relaxed briefly, and the process began anew. When she finally collapsed, seconds or hours later, she found him over her fully, staring, it seemed, deep into her soul. Looking down upon the beauty beneath him, he lost himself in the wonder of the moment. How many times had he dreamed of loving her, yearned for a future with her, even prayed for a moment such as this. When he returned, he heard her. "Please," she whispered, "Please. Now." There must be a God. She spread her legs further, and he moved up slightly, kissing around her breasts as his knees moved under hers. Using one hand to hold him up, his other separated her soft folds for the second time that night, and found her entrance warm and more than ready. He eased forward, and found she was tighter than he had anticipated. He looked from their attempted union to her face, needing assurance. Her eyes returned his gaze, and in the dim light their glittering provided her only answer. Yes. Now. He pushed forward, forcing himself into her. The pressure and the heat were nearly overwhelming, and he closed his eyes and grimaced in concentration. "Uhh... Ah! Ah!" she gasped. "I love you." This time it was her fingers on his lips. He pulled back, kissed her lips, her breasts, her nipples, and pushed in again. And again. All too quickly this first time, the emotion of this act overpowered him, and he soon lost control inside the slick warmth of his mate. Within moments he tensed and grunted, pulsing out his own warmth to join and mix with hers. He collapsed into her embrace, but quickly moved to his side, rolling her half onto his chest. "I love you, Dana," he whispered later, stroking her sides and back in long strokes. "I love you too, *Fox*." "Ugh. How's 'Mrs. Mulder,' then?" "Mmmm, oh yeah. Scully in the office, though." "I can live with that." "That's the easy part" she snickered. "Just remember, I have to live with *you*." "Thanks... I didn't hurt you, did I?" "Not too bad. I expected worse." came the reply as she rubbed her cheek against his chest, caressing his legs with a free hand, the other wrapped around his neck, her hair tickling his jaw. "I'm not sure if that's good or bad," he chuckled, the vibrations suffusing her with its intimate warmth. "Good. Very good." "You didn't..." "No. I didn't. I will. Practice makes perfect, remember?" she said, her arms slipping lower, letting her hand slide through the coarse, sticky hair at the apex of his thighs. "Although in this instance, don't you think the proper order would be hands before hips?" "Careful, buddy," she said, closing her fist and tugging lightly on the hairs before moving to take his penis firmly in hand, "or you'll end up on the injured list for the rest of the season." They laughed, close enough to each other's faces to feel the warm breaths intermingle before joining the rest of the world. "Better out with a bang than a whimper." She whispered something about betting, and grasped him again, tugging gently, noting the texture, and excited over its renewed firmness. Grin. "Again?" Leer. "If you have something better to do, please, feel free." Eyebrow. "Oh, alright, but make it quick. Just not _that_ quick, okay?" Smirk. "Com'ere." ----- Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. - William Shakespeare from 'The Tempest', Act IV, Scene i. ----- End. ----- I just wrote about sex without including raging hard-ons larger than the Eiffel Tower and quivering bundles of nerves and orgasms that make earthquakes pale in comparison. Does that somehow make me less of a man? Send me feedback and let me know. This was my first time writing this kind of content. Just don't let my mommy find out. I had planned an additional scene, but the poetry was... well... The only poem I could find was called "To The Immortal Memory of the Halibut, On Which I Dined This Day, Monday, April 26, 1784." I'll keep looking. ----- engender (n-jndr) v. engendered, engendering, engenders. v. tr. 1. To bring into existence; give rise to: "Every cloud engenders not a storm" (Shakespeare). 2. To procreate; propagate. v. intr. To come into existence; originate. ----- Thanks. XL -- http://surfacing.com/xl/ xochiluvr@surfacing.com Owner, Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MSR-SMUT/ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MSR-Central/ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/MSR-D/