From: Kelly <kellylynn73@comcast.net>
Date: 3 Feb 2004 20:19:09 -0800
Subject: [all-xf] New:  La Petit Mort (1/1) by Kelly Keil
Source: atxc

TITLE:  La Petite Mort -- Undertow Interlude
AUTHOR:  Kelly Keil
EMAIL:  kellylynn73@comcast.net
WEBSITE:  http://www.geocities.com/kellychenault73
ARCHIVE:  Anywhere, just keep my info attached.
FEEDBACK:  Sure, what the hell.
TIMELINE:  Somewhere between Requiem and Dead/Alive
RATING:  R
CLASSIFICATION: K/Sc, pwp, Krycek pov
DISCLAIMER:  The X-files characters portrayed in this
story belong to Fox, 1013, and Chris Carter.
SUMMARY:  Krycek, Scully, sex
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS:  This one is for Spica, lock, stock,
and barrel.  Also, thank you for beta.  You always
come through for me.
NOTE:  This smutty little drabble takes place in the
ever expanding Undertow universe, but mostly, you just
need to know that Scully and Krycek are knockin' the
boots.  Let's be voyeuristic, shall we, and see what
they're up to...

* * *

I am between your thighs, sheathed deep inside you,
so tight, so hot, so sweet.  My body moves because it
has to, and yours writhes beneath mine just as
mindlessly.  Your hair drapes on my pillow like rusty
seaweed and the smell of the sea is in the air, along
with the smell of sex.  Of us.  Of what we are doing.

And it is so good.  So good.  So good that how could
it ever be wrong?  Logic and sense would tell me that
this is about as wrong as wrong can be, but I'm in no
mood to listen tonight.  I'm not thinking clearly,
how could I with all the blood in my body gone right
to my dick and you there under me, a double-dog dare
in your eyes.  Give me everything I want and maybe
you won't get hurt, those eyes say.

You are deadly, my love.

Even so, I can't help but notice how fucking
beautiful you are as you quiver and slither and
shiver under my body.  You are primal, the first
woman, every woman, the only woman.

(my woman)

There is only you, only me, and we are we, not you
and I, right now.

We are one and the same, complete and eternal.  We
are a snake swallowing its own tail.  We are every
bit of new age bullshit that I can't even bring to
mind because this joining goes beyond any metaphor or
cliche.  It is more certain than the sun rising in
the east or taxes or death.

(ma petite mort)

I can feel forever in this pleasure.  Tonight will
stretch on, endless, pliant like taffy left sitting
in the warm summer sun.  Our bodies will join and
part and plunge and rise to this singular rhythm
forever and ever and ever.

(amen)

But to hell with forever.  I need this right now,
need more, always more, please more.  Oh god, more
now more.  Sliding in, pulling out, falling into you,
but faster, faster, and pulling you with me.

Come with me. Now. Come. With me, only me. Always
mine.

(pozhalusta)

You sing arias at me, beautiful obscene siren song.
Then my name, in two falling notes, then you sigh.
Like a cat.

(i love your claws)

And smile (like a cat) for me.

Just for me.

And that is what throws me over the cliff, drags me
under the waves, pulls me down (down, down) as I
surrender to pleasure beyond any deserving.

Oh yes.  Yes, I love you.  How could I not - torn
by your cat's claws, snared by your siren call, and
captured by your rusalka arms.  I drown, I die, I am
no more.

(spasibo)

I am yours, my love, my little death.


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