From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Thu, 9 Nov 2000 09:02:38 -0600 Subject: The Smell of Cotton -- NC17 by Trillian Source: direct Reply To: trills42@yahoo.com TITLE: The Smell of Cotton AUTHOR: Trillian (trills42@yahoo.com) RATING: NC-17 CATEGORY: VRA KEYWORDS: MSR, MajorScullyAngst SPOILERS: Within ARCHIVE: Heck why not? Just ask! Gossamer and LTSFA: go for it. SUMMARY: Another "Scully sleepin' with Mulder's shirt" fic. DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. I just let them have the fun they deserve to have. ()()() As she sleeps the smell wafts its way out of the cotton threads and into the air. It dances freely, enjoying its chance to mingle with other smells in the room: the ink of the books lying around; the rubber of the basketball; the wood of the baseball bat; her shampoo and body wash. Slowly but surely, gravity takes its toll, pulling the free molecules back down, down, down... Down to her nostrils, which unknowingly breathe in the smell, triggering various memories in her brain. And so she begins to dream... A Friday night, not too many weeks ago. Their relationship was still on the new side, though a casual observer would assume that they'd been intimate for years. They were are her apartment, a rarity to be sure, to watch "Steel Magnolias." The movie was an unneeded excuse--that went without saying. Suffice it to say, the tale of strong, Southern women had barely begun to unwind on the screen when the warmth of the tea began to seep into their bones, making them warm and sleepy. He was reminded of their first night, when she came to him after she'd awoken on his couch and they made love for hours, nearly until dawn. She didn't stay until morning that time, lacking the proper items to make herself presentable at work, but for their next session she was much better prepared. This time they'd decided that neither would be leaving her apartment until it was time for her to go to the five o'clock mass on Sunday. The cupboards were filled with items to combat every possible craving they could think of; the freezer kept a sizable ration of Ben and Jerry's ready for consumption. The numbers of local Chinese and Italian take-out restaurants programmed were into the speed dial of her phone. After a half-hour of patiently watching the movie, though not processing the plot, the warm tea and simple touches bound together to create an even greater warmth. They elected to move to the bedroom, so that her large living room window would not become a screen for voyeurs casually passing by. As they walked, they made like Hansel and Gretel, leaving a path of clothes in their wake. Except his shirt. She liked to make love to him while he was still wearing his shirt. A few times ago, they'd decided that her little foible was not a kink. No, if men could enjoy women in sexy lingerie, she could enjoy her man in his sexy shirt, unbuttoned and simply hanging on his frame. So they'd fallen into bed: 90 percent naked, 100 percent aroused. The first coupling of the weekend would be driven mostly by lust and their deep wells of sexual tension. It had been a while since they'd had a spare moment for even singular satisfaction. Life could assert itself in the most annoying ways sometimes. Even in the middle of lust, he still found time to focus on her. While his mouth paid homage to her breast, his agile fingers dove between her legs, reassuring himself that yes, he was wanted desperately. On most nights she would not allow him to bring her to climax this way; while a first orgasm was not hard to achieve, a second could a long time coming, so to speak. But tonight he planned to ignore her wishes. He planned to have his fingers inside her as she shuddered in pleasure. They had all weekend; there was no rush. She allowed him his wish, just this once. She vowed to pay him the same attention later on in the weekend...perhaps Sunday morning. As sparks flew through her neurons, igniting her senses, she knew that once again she would peak early. And for once, it didn't bother her. He began to move, his intent to move his mouth elsewhere gleaming his eyes. But she grabbed the shoulder of his shirt (that's why she liked it on, she reasoned), keeping him where she could touch more than his hair. He sighed and semi- reluctantly pulled himself closer to her, capturing her mouth with his. And, oh, what wonderful tricks his mouth had learned...and luckily, this old dog could still be taught. The intercourse of their tongues was a favorite trick of his, and, from the slight sounds emanating from her throat, he supposed the same went for her. He wasn't the best multi-tasker in the world, and as his attention drifted to their kisses, his hand slowed and missed its target more often than not, which allowed her to take two steps back from the edge and breathe easier. Soon enough, however, he realized his idleness and finally escaped her grasp to bring his head right to where, he felt, she needed him most. With his free hand he spread her open, revealing her shimmering sex. The skin was a deep red, a direct contrast to the rest of her pale body. For once, time was on his side, and he took the opportunity to tease her. Fingers brushed lightly just on the inside of her lips... His tongue quickly lapped at the pool of arousal forming in her opening... His nose bumped against the thick cord of nerves above her clit... All of his teases had the desired effect; within seconds she was writhing on the bed, softly moaning, but saying nothing. So he kept up the teasing by bringing her to the point where his fingers could feel her innermost muscles just begin to tighten... and then he'd pull away. Again, he brought her to the edge, only to leave her unfulfilled. A third time... A fourth... And finally she was begging, begging him to let her fall, to *please* give her the release she so desperately needed. Evilly, he allowed the thought of ignoring her pleas to pass through his mind...but he discarded that thought, knowing that if he did not finish her soon, the weekend would end much earlier than either of them wanted. She nearly hit the ceiling as the flat of his tongue covered her clit. But still, she didn't fall. His fingers moved frantically in and out of her...and again with his tongue. Nothing. She felt tears begin to form in her eyes; this had happened once before, long ago...she'd been over-aroused, and was left painfully unsatisfied. Her hand floated to her breast, pinching the nipple in hopes of expediting her climax. She felt him slow his fingers and pull his head back slightly. She feared that he mistakenly thought she'd come...but then she felt his breath on her, and his lips brushed her lightly as he mouthed, "I love you..." And finally, she fell, vocalizing over a whisper for the first time that night as she let out a mighty cry: "MUUUULLLLLLLLDEEEEEEEERRRRR!!!!!!!" She wakes up panting, and with a great sadness realizes that it had all been a dream. He isn't lying next to her, and he most certainly isn't between her legs, leering at her as he would have done in her dream. His shirt, however, has somehow made its way into her pants and against her groin. She pulls it out, not surprised at all to smell the new odor of her arousal mingled with the older musk of him. She bundles the shirt up again and draws it to her chin, just close enough to inhale the comforting combination of scents. She doesn't notice the tears that streak her face as she nods off again...to sleep to the smell of cotton. ()the()end() Yes yes, angst-o-rama...but really, could there be anything else? For Brie. Don't Panic! (Just send feedback to trills42@yahoo.com) "There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. "There is another which states that this has already happened." "Pork...the one you love."