Title: By Flesh, By Blood
Author: Mish
Rating: NC-17, for sexual situations<
Feedback: mish_rose@yahoo.com
Category: MSR
Archive: Let me know where
Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: Connection by body, completion by blood.

Author's Note: This piece contains the barest hint of domination and blood sport. Read at your own discretion.


She half-dozed in the moonlight, listening to the silk of her nightgown slide between the sheets as she stirred, a sigh drifting from her lips. One lazy eye cracked open, the spread of her hair on the pillow tickling her cheek as she turned to watch the leaves of the tree outside her window filter the pale light. The cool night air billowed the gauzy curtains of her bedroom, and her nipples puckered against the chill, but she didn't reach for the blanket.

Instead, she stretched an arm above her head, letting her eyelids droop once again. It was decadent and utterly not *her*, this feeling that she wanted to be ravished like the heroine of a cheap romance novel. If only she had the power to summon a partner in her need, an equal in the desire that coursed through her veins...

But the need for sleep was tempting as well, and she turned her vigilant gaze from the window. A sudden gasp caught in her throat... she was not alone. How had the dark figure by the door entered unnoticed? The thought faded away; their time wasn't to be wasted on such mundane matters.

He'd come. That was all that mattered.

In just one glance, she saw his evening dress, immaculate as always, his winter coat draped across his shoulders like a cape. Standing as he was between the bedroom door and the armoire, he used the shadows to disguise his face. But she saw its paleness against the unforgiving black and swallowed. She knew what he wanted, why he'd appeared in her bedroom as if summoned by the devil himself. A dark angel, there to assuage her need... and to take from her in return.

Eyes open wide, she watched him as he did her, seeing the faint glitter of anticipation shine in the dilated pupils. Her body seemed to bloom under his stare, her other arm raising up to join the first above her head as her legs shifted apart. Her mouth parted, and small, white teeth rasped a thin, smooth line against the heat of her bottom lip...

He stood transfixed in the face of her wanton pose, his clothes suddenly too constricting, too hot on his skin. The tight, high neck of his shirt wrapped around him like a noose, and his tuxedo pants threatened to burst at the seams with the instant rush of warmth to his groin.

She laid upon the bed, her body almost lost in the pale sheets and the filmy white bit of lace that masqueraded as a nightgown. The only bit of color in an otherwise dim landscape, her blood red lips beckoned, and he answered the silent call, dropping his heavy outer coat in a shrug before taking a step forward.

Then another, and another, dragging in a ragged breath as he caught scent of her arousal, even through the layer of bed linens. One small foot peeked out from the edge of the sheet, grazing his thigh, halting his progress. Legs splayed beneath the sheet, she licked her lips, her bright gaze seeming to sear his body as she looked him up and down. His hand was firm, commanding, as it wrapped around her foot; her eyes flew up to meet his, and there he kept them, answering the burn of desire in those blue irises with a searing, magnetic pull of his own.

Silently hypnotizing her with his will, with his seduction, he took control, running the pads of his fingers up her calf, taking the silk with it. At her knee, he paused and squeezed, eliciting a soft moan from the depths of the pillows.

"You're mine," he said, stating his ownership of her soul and body with a voice made rough by lust.

Her eyes, unblinking in the meager light from the window, glazed over, and he knew she was caught up in the moment. Her arms lifted from their seductive twining around the pillow, slowly reaching for him, calling him. He could do nothing but succumb, flinging the sheet away to lower himself to her warmth...

She watched as he crawled over her like a panther, all sleek and black, his eyes glowing with twin flames of desire in their dark depths.

A large, rough hand pulled at the hem of her nightgown as the other released one breast from its loose confines, and he soundlessly gained access to her most hidden places, his fingers pushing into her as his mouth closed around her straining flesh.

Unbidden, another moan bled from her lips as he worked her into a taut string of desire, his mouth and hand plucking a maddening symphony of passion that roared in her ears. Over and over, he repeated the strain, until she closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion.

"Please..." she wanted to whisper, but couldn't force the minute word past her mesmerized senses. She ached to be drained of the overwhelming feeling that threatened to consume her in a fireball of enormous proportions. If he didn't release her soon, she would be lost forever, never to surface in the light again.

He lifted his head, his hand stealing away amidst the protest of her greedy grasp. Her fingers followed his ascent as if tethered by invisible thread, pulling at his clothes. But their feeble attempts at purchase were for naught, until she felt his hands grip her thighs.

Those hands weren't as gentle as usual, baring her to the waist in an instant so his clothcovered hips had the freedom to grind into her softness. A small, almost unnoticeable grunt of frustration broke through the miasma that enveloped her, and she was spurred into action, taking up his impatience as her own.

With hands suddenly wired to the electricity their bodies generated, she pulled at his neck.

His tie broke apart quickly, and she hurried to the studs of his shirt, ripping them in her haste to bare his slick skin. Spreading, pulling, she tore shirt and jacket wide until they created a new blanket of warmth against the chill of the night. Draped from his back, they blocked out all around her. Only his eyes, dark stars of light, remained to guide her to him.

One hand held her still, as she felt the other make quick work of his zipper. The metallic slide of it buzzed into her head, traveling down her spine, making her arch beneath him as she took in a deep breath.

He smelled of sex. Of the humid heat of blood pounding and flesh straining toward completion.

She embraced the animalistic way they came at each other with trembling arms, her hands snaking under his clothes,, around his back to press down on the lower ridges of bone and sinew she knew were so sensitive to her touch.

And he came to her, the tip of his penis breaching her with swift, sure guidance. She watched his face react to their joining, saw the way he lowered his head, his teeth bared between thin, tight lips. Tense and yet vulnerable, the tendons in his neck clenched, and she bit back the need to put her mouth to the life beating there. But she was his, and this domination wasn't subject to reciprocation. It was what she'd requested with her trembling lips, with her wanton body and newly reborn sensuality.

Its duty done, the hand that moments ago had been stroking her into near oblivion shot up, curling into her hair. Her head twisted without resistance to his maneuvering and cool air floated across her bared neck. Pressing fully into her with his lower body, he lowered his head.

She cried out at the sharp feel of teeth against her skin...

Her cry echoed in the dim room, but he knew it was not one of pain. Rather, her pleasure surrounded him, just as her walls contracted around his cock after his first intrusion. Not wanting to waste a moment, he began to move.

In, out, his hand adjusting her hips a bit to the side, his knees spreading her farther apart for the deepest penetration possible.

It was so like the few, precious times they'd joined before, but then it wasn't. Yes, she felt so good, so right. Like she was made just for his body. And his body recognized the fact, moving within her as it had come to learn, with sure, even force. But this was different; it was blasphemous and beautiful at the same time.

Because while he gave to her below, he took from her above. His mouth drew on her neck, and he felt her blood rise to the surface, could almost hear her heart's rapid beating in his ears. A strong, undeniable pulsing of strength laid just beneath that fragile covering of salty skin.

He'd never done this before, and it gave him such a feeling of power, it made him lightheaded.

His teeth took up a rhythm in time with his hips, soft little rubbing bites against that downy neck that he alternately soothed with his tongue. In time, it wasn't enough, just as it wasn't enough to maintain control of the rest of his body. He began to pound into her in earnest, his mouth opening to suckle as if he could actually draw the blood from her body.

She responded as he knew she would, her nails raking over his chest and back. The little daggers barely pierced his skin, and the true smell of blood blossomed between them. Her reaction was immediate, as she bowed her body to touch the sticky wetness.

His hand needed no longer to hold her head in place, he slipped his arm beneath her, bending her over the line of straining muscle as his knees dug into the mattress. The new, close position forced their hips to collide, and the friction created sent her over the edge.

She gasped, a small thing compared to the fury of their rutting, her arms falling away as her head lolled back. Spent, she drifted from him as he finished in several stiff jerks, coming and coming until he thought he would die from the loss, his teeth biting down hard on his own flesh, the rush of blood on his tongue a small, powerful thing.

With his last strength, he gently laid her back on the pillows, lifting his head to give her one long, slow kiss. She started beneath him, roused from exhaustion by the taste he knew flowed from his mouth to hers.

"It's mine, it's mine," he muttered quickly, a reassurance punctuated by the flick of his tongue on her stained lips.

"I know," she whispered in return, regret shaking her voice. "Oh, Mulder... I didn't mean for this to go so far -"

"It's okay... I'm okay."

He felt her hands capture his face, closed his eyes as she soothed his split lip with her healing mouth. Some minutes later, their breathing slowed to a more even pace, he opened his eyes to give her a slow, burning grin.

"You're gonna have one huge hickey there tomorrow, Scully."

She smiled, a satisfied curl of her lips that crinkled her tear dampened cheeks as she brushed the sweat from his brow. "So, I'll just wear turtlenecks for the next week. It'll give Skinner something to wonder about."

Mulder moved against her in a territorial shifting of his body, his hands gripping her backside as he felt his semi-hard penis stake another claim to her warmth. "As long as you don't tap him to play a pirate one day, he can wonder all he wants."

She chuckled beneath him. "Pirates are so Fabio," she said with disdain. "I happen to like tall, dark, tortured men. Especially if they make my year with a bit of fantasy come to life."

He hadn't been surprised by her request earlier in the day to engage in a bit of role-playing; Scully was a tiger in bed, something that delighted him at every turn. And despite the unpleasant memories of a time many years ago in Los Angeles, he had hoped this exercise would help him to rid himself of certain demons. It had, and he felt better and more relaxed than he could remember in a long time.

"Happy Halloween, Scully."

"Happy Halloween, Mulder." She kissed him, soothing his lips with her own. "I hope I didn't hurt you." Her frown reminded him of the small scratches on his chest and back; she moved as if to make him leave her so she could inspect him, but he stayed her, his mouth tugging at her ear.

"Tomorrow, you can play doctor and I'll be the tall, dark, tortured... *injured* patient."

"Do I get kiss all your boo-boo's away?"

He groaned, knowing she'd gleaned his fantasy, one he'd had since the first time he'd seen her in doctor mode.

"Nothing under the lab coat, right?" she continued, one eyebrow arched. "Hair pulled back, glasses on."

"I'm so transparent," he sighed.

"That was the Invisible Man, Mulder. You're Dracula, remember." She paused, then her face broke into a smile. "That reminds me...

remember that case in Florida? Mothmen?"

The excited twinkle in her eye made him sigh again. "Looks like I'll have to dig my sleeping bag out of the closet."

"And your lumberjack clothes."

"*Lumberjack* clothes? Jesus, Scully -"

His half-hearted protest was cut short by her kiss.

End


For Sybil, because she asked for Halloween fic.

I'm a day late, babe. Hope you don't mind!

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