From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 13 Dec 2002 03:24:47 -0000
Subject: The Want by Spock
Source: direct

Reply To: spockdaggoo@yahoo.co.uk


AUTHOR: Spock
TITLE: The Want
FEEDBACK: spockdaggoo@yahoo.co.uk
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: vague ones, S1-S7, all things 
CATEGORY: MSR
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, there wouldn't be stories 
like this one. CC owns them, hence there is this story.
SUMMARY: Why they didn't get it on sooner and how 
they finally got it on... 
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is something that spewed out of 
me one Friday night, hence the lack of paragraphs...


The Want
By Spock

It was never a question of not wanting. It had always been 
that. Wanting. Wanting so much it was painful to keep 
the want hidden. Painful to not show it. To not share it 
physically. He knew he could share it with her. He saw it 
in her eyes every day. 

She knew he wanted her badly. She saw it in the way he 
looked at her. They wanted each other. She wanted him as 
much as he wanted her. It was insane. It was insane want. 
They were insane. Maybe they were addicted to the pain 
of it? They found pleasure in inflicting this pain upon 
themselves? Maybe they both got off on unaddressed 
want, on abstinence? Clearly they hadn't been able to find 
fulfillment elsewhere. They didn't want anyone else. He 
would never betray the want, and she would never do that 
either. He knew how she thought, like she knew how he 
thought. They knew each other in every way but one. They 
wouldn't let their want guide them that last stretch, 
however. They never would. Because they were in love 
with the insanity of it. And they were in love. But, you see, 
they adored the torture. And they were torturing 
themselves. 

They seemed to crave the loneliness and the anguish of 
wanting and not getting. She looked at him every day. He 
looked at her every day. But when others looked at them, 
they couldn't see it. Sometimes they saw each other 
outside work. The platonic friendship of the century. He 
loved it. She loved it. He relished in the want, as did she.

 Look but don't touch. Spend the whole day together and 
then spend your night alone. They looked but never 
touched. They were punishing themselves, yet sweetly. 
She revelled in the feeling of holding his desire so firmly 
in her grip. He needed to feel her need for him, too. Not in 
the way that their want would suggest, of course. No. 
Platonic touches. To keep the want alive. To keep it 
sizzling underneath the surface, underneath the skin.

 Only platonic touches.

 Only platonic glances.

 And did they sizzle. Those glances burned their skins. 
Those glances set conflagrations loose. He eyed her up 
and down as she entered his apartment, and she came alive 
with it. With the want. She looked at his body as he took a 
seat in her sofa, and he felt it, too. It was always the want, 
feeding even more want, and more, and more. Look but 
don't touch. Keep coveting from afar. It was just too good 
to let go of it just yet. Keep the want alive. One year. Hone 
the want. Make it last. One more year. Focus.  Two more 
years. Don't succumb to the need. Don't. One more year. 
Don't let the bubble burst. He wanted the want to last. She 
wanted the want to last. They both wanted, so badly. And 
it was just so heady, that feeling of knowing you were 
wanted. They had given themselves to each other a long 
time ago. No one would ever come between them. He 
knew it. She knew it. They could keep stalling. Were they 
now playing chicken, they didn't know, and maybe they 
should confront each other with it, but as they saw the 
determination in each other's eyes grow stronger and 
stronger, they both knew that they were secure in their 
mutual want. One more year. They could still keep it up. 
The want. The ultimate foreplay. It was insane. But they 
loved the insanity. It made them want each other more, 
and more. 

They knew they couldn't keep churning in the fires of 
desire for all eternity, but they would both make an effort 
to make it last. They were honing their want for each 
other. It was their precious baby. Cradling the want, when 
they could have been cradling each other. But it was never 
an issue. Teasing your steps to the brink of it was much 
more alluring. They loved the danger. They ached for the 
almost-close-enough-to-teeter aspect of their platonic 
friendship. He hated fire, but they both so loved playing 
with it anyway. Dangling themselves in front of each other 
like pieces of meat in front of drooling alligators, except 
their mouths were muzzled. They would never bite. 
Feeling the tease was much more fulfilling. The want filled 
their stomachs and it kept them sustained. It was always 
the want. Sometimes they would test each other's 
resilience. Innuendo was his forte. Feigning indifference 
was where she excelled. And they were good at seeming 
unaffected. Real good. They kept it alive. Sometimes they 
went so far as to steal a kiss, really making the other one 
suffer with their want for more. It was their lifeline in the 
chaos that was their world. Their work ate up the other 
aspects of their lives, but their mutual want nourished 
them, nursed them back to health each time one of them 
received a blow, a mental or physical one. 

What a joke that she was a doctor and he a psychologist, 
when all they needed to take care of was their mutual, 
powerful, all-encompassing want. They were insane. And 
they were in love with their insanity. It fit so well into their 
mercurial and insane lives. They fit so well. Even though 
they had never tried each other on for size, in the physical 
sense, they knew that they were a perfect fit. Other people 
had started to pick up on it, too. The want was starting to 
become more and more tangible. It held a promise. A 
reward for the torture. But the torture was pleasurable, too. 
Everything about their relationship was pleasurable. 
Especially the want. They fed off their want. They would 
keep it up some more. They would keep the want alive.

 They wouldn't succumb. 

Not just yet. A few more months. They were so in love 
now that they couldn't see straight, but they would keep it 
up. A couple of months more. They would keep each other 
at a distance. Keep the want unaddressed. One more week. 
Keep it up. Keep coveting from afar. Keep telling 
everyone that the two of them weren't in terrible need of 
each other. Keep telling themselves the same thing. Keep 
each other at arm's length. One more day. They could do 
it. They wouldn't fall prey to their need. Not just yet. Just 
one more chat on his worn old green leather couch. Just 
one more cup of herbal tea. 

"Mulder?" 

She could no longer resist it. She had resisted long 
enough. The want was consuming her now, making her 
nauseous if she didn't address it. He was waiting for her. 
He was willing her to come to him. She knew he wanted 
her.Her neck was stiff. She rubbed it, and he saw her in the 
doorway to his bedroom. She saw him reclined on his bed. 
He was awake. He had been awake all along, listening to 
her even breaths. Her rhythm was now his. He was naked. 
They looked at each other. They wanted each other. She 
was dressed. They wanted each other, and now they would 
not ignore the want. It would be tested tonight. In his 
bedroom. Finally.

"Mulder..."

She walked towards the end of his bed. He watched her. 
The wait was over. The want was perfected. They had 
reached the peak of their want. They were there, so close 
that both could already taste completeness. They were so 
close. He knew she needed him. Her hands descended on 
the edge of the bed and her shoes came off as she crawled 
onto the bedsheets. She watched him. He watched her. She 
knew he needed her. They were so close. She rubbed her 
neck again. The chip was in place. Everything was in 
place. Her neck was stiff. His manhood was stiff. She 
could look at him. She could finally admire him, all of 
him. He wanted her to look at him. She loved the way his 
long, lean legs felt underneath her palms. He welcomed 
her onto his lap. They were so close now. She felt his 
hands wander underneath her skirt. He felt her shiver 
underneath his caress. No more waiting. No more honing 
the want. It was time to worship the want. Give oneself 
completely to the want. She rubbed her neck again.

"Scully?"

They looked at each other. Could they wait? He felt her 
shift away from him. He watched her settle onto the edge 
of the bed beside him. She felt him mimic her and settle in 
behind her. His hands travelled up her back. She arched 
into his touch. They were so close now. But still they 
tortured themselves with a dry touch. Still they found it 
alluring to postpone the imminent pleasure. It was the 
want. It always was. Maybe they would wait a few more 
months? Maybe they could hone the want for a few more 
years? It would be so sweet to stall. Sweet torture. This 
kind of torture. Fondling but never kissing. Touching but 
never consummating. Sweet expectation. His hands 
insinuated themselves underneath her shirt, around her 
waist. She leaned her head heavily against his shoulder. 
He knew she wouldn't be able to wait. They could both 
smell her need. It had to happen now, or it never would. 
She was waiting for him to touch her. He was waiting for 
her to let him. They were waiting for a sign. His hands 
rubbed lazy circles over her shoulder blades. She felt so 
soft. His hands felt so smooth yet insistent. They were so 
close to loving each other completely. So close. 

"Mulder..."

She was desperate for him now. He heard the tone of her 
voice, but he didn't recognize it. It was new to him. She 
had never said his name like that before. They both knew 
the time had come. He knew it as she parted her legs in her 
need. She knew it as she felt him pull her shirt off and 
nuzzle her neck. The time had come. They were both 
going to come tonight. Come undone in this bed, together. 
His hands replaced the cups of her skimpy bra. She licked 
her lips and felt him lick her earlobe. They would be so 
perfect together. He fondled her breasts with his palms and 
her neck with his tongue. They were so close. Soon he 
would kiss her mouth. But not yet. He could wait a few 
more minutes. Soon she would kiss him. She could wait a 
few more minutes. They were at it again. Sweet promises 
of release, just around that corner, just over that bend. 
Almost there, but not quite. A few more minutes of 
teasing. Her nipples were erect for him. He was erect for 
her. Everything was ready. Everything was perfect. Her 
juices were soaking her panties. She was ready for him. 
They both knew it would be sweet. A few more minutes of 
kissing nothing for her, a few more minutes of rubbing her 
neck for him. Soon, they told themselves. Just a few more 
seconds. 

"Scully..."

He was in pain. His pain was sweet, but now it was time. 
She felt it, too. He leaned back and let his fingers find the 
zipper of her skirt. She felt the waistband loosen. He 
pulled at her hips, drawing her backward, the skirt leaving 
her body and falling onto the floor. It was time to find 
each other. Time to feel each other, skin to skin. He 
wanted her. She wanted him. The wait was over. The 
torture was a thing of the past. She reclined on the bed 
next to him. He ripped her panties. He gauged her rection 
as he moved to lie atop her. She was hoping he would rest 
there. He was hoping not to crush her. They were hoping 
to touch, everywhere. 

"Are you mine?"

She parted her legs for him. It was her answer. He nodded. 
He looked down to where they would be joined shortly. 
She followed his gaze. Would they wait for a few more 
moments? Would they be able to stall, to hone the want 
some more? Maybe nine minutes? He felt himself being 
pulled down towards the heat. She was pulling him down. 
Without hands, only with want. Only.

"Now"

No nine minutes. She couldn't wait. He couldn't wait. He 
lowered his hips towards hers. No need to guide. He knew 
the way although he had never been there. She felt him 
slide in. Honing the want, he stopped. Could he wait a few 
more seconds? Could she stand being half-empty? Her 
hips lifted off the bed. No. She wanted to feel full. He 
wanted to fill her, to the brim. He slid all the way inside. 
She closed her eyes, consumed by sensations of happiness. 
He had come home. 

"Now"

She looked up at him. He was still. He wanted to look at 
her. She saw the tremendous need in him to move within 
her. 

"Now"

He pulled out. She felt half-empty. He pushed home. All 
was well.The want was growing again. It grew with every 
stroke. More. More. More. More. More. More. Could they 
wait again? He stopped. She concentrated on evening her 
breathing. 

"I want you..."

She had to have him. She gasped her plea, and he heeded. 
No more stalling, no more waiting. More. More. The want 
was still growing, building inside both of them. More. 
More. More. More. More. She could feel herself unwind 
completely. He lost himself in her, but found freedom. He 
looked down at her. She met his gaze. They knew there 
was still more. Around that bend, there was still more. 
Could they wait? Should they embrace the need? She 
needed his kiss. He needed her kiss. It was the most 
intimate of caresses, the kiss between lovers, and they both 
were starving for each other's mouths. She pleaded with 
her eyes. He lowered his head, hoping for her to let him. 
They were both ready for it. The want was overwhelming. 
He was still inside her, but she felt half-empty. He needed 
to claim her as his own. He lowered his head towards hers. 
They were so close, so close to a lovers' kiss. He stopped 
his descent. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She wanted to 
feel his tongue in her mouth. He wanted to fill her mouth 
with his tongue. She craved his complete invasion. He 
wanted to invade. No more licking of lips. No more 
coveting from a far. No more teasing. He devoured her 
mouth. She invited him in. He felt like crying. She was. It 
was so intimate. He had never kissed like that before. She 
had never been kissed like that before. They both let go, 
completely. She moaned wantonly. He revelled in hearing 
her let go and he felt like moving within her again. She 
met his slow strokes. Their pace was unison. Their union 
perfect. Almost. The want was still growing. He pulled his 
tongue out of her mouth. She urged him on with her hands 
on his hips. She looked up into his eyes. He could see his 
sentiment reflected in her eyes. There was one more thing. 
One more goal to reach. She knew he was thinking about 
it. He knew she was looking for the words. Should they 
wait? Could they wait any longer? They really needed to 
finally tell each other. He continued his languid strokes 
inside her tunnel. She licked her lips and let her hands 
roam his back. He felt her soft caress and shivered. He 
lowered his mouth to hers again. She willingly parted her 
lips, and he plunged inside. No more waiting. He quickly 
pulled out, and she gasped. He licked his lips and stared 
down at her.

"I love you"

"I love you"

And they kissed again. She murmured his name, and he 
murmured hers in between passes of their tongues. He was 
pumping in and out of her, and she was giving him 
friction. He was so close. She was just waiting to soar. 
They were so near to the brink, so near to becoming one, 
mentally they already had, years ago. Release came too 
quickly. Collapse soon followed. Their hearts were beating 
fast.

She looked at him. He dreamed about her. She found her 
clothes, picked them up and dressed. He held her still in 
his slumber. She watched him. He was clutching the 
covers. She left. They could still hone the want. Now there 
had been a slight taste. There would be more. He already 
dreamed about burying himself within her again. She 
would let him. But not the next day. Maybe a week from 
now? Maybe they could wait a month? Keep the want 
alive? Always the want.

The End