Something Sacred

Something Sacred

By Piper Sargasso

Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Chris

Carter, 1013 Productions and Twentieth Century

Fox. No infringement intended.



Authors Notes: A haiku written by the very

talented Toniann inspired this story. Special

thanks to Char and Philiater for the exceptional

get-well fics they wrote after I burned my hand

in an unfortunate cooking incident (LOL!). This

little bit ‘o fluff is for you, girls!

And to Sallie, for being an angel and beta’ing

this story for me. Godiva showers to you,

sweetie!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Something Sacred

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My lips crush against hers, battling for

domination. She pushes away.

“I don’t need you to prove anything to me,

Mulder.”

But that’s just another in a long line of lies she’s

told me in the interest of saving face. I have

much to prove. You see, I just heard the most

improbable, most ridiculousng png pour from

those sweet lips. Something I never thought I’d

hear –

“I don’t believe in love anymore.”

I couldn’t bear it, not coming from her. There

has to be something sacred left in this

godforsaken world.

“Unacceptable,” I answered roughly, and crossed

the room to pull her into my arms before she had

a chance to yank herself away. She looked

frightened, stunned; God help me, aroused.

I look down into her determined face with

determination of my own. She shrinks under my

gaze and looks away.

“You’re wrong, Scully.” I take a step forward;

she takes a step back.

Shaking her head, she looks everywhere but at

me. “This is crazy. It doesn’t make a difference

anyway.”

Step forward; step back.

“You’re so wrong, it’s not even funny.” I

respond. I d rec recognize my own voice,

drenched as it is in unguarded emotion. How can

she not know?

“Look, Mulder,” she begins shakily. “This is

very personal, okay? I never should’ve brought it

up. Just forget it.”

I shake my head slowly, tilting her chin up to

force her to look at me.

Step forward; step back.

“Sorry, partner. Can’t do that.”

She gasps as her back makes contact with the

wall.

“You see, it’s not that easy.” I trace a finger

along her jaw line, thrilling at the shiver she

can’t hide at my touch. “I won’t accept that from

you.”

I bend to taste of her creamy neck, shaking in

response to her hitched breathing. “Wh-what?”

sheps. ps.

My kisses become wetter as I trail them to the

hollow of her throat; the pale shoulder I expose

to the cool air. I want to taste every blessed inch

of this woman, need to savor her flavor as if my

very life depended on it. She’s my one true

obsession. My addiction.

Slowly, I unbutton her shirt, revealing perfectly

rounded breasts above the black fabric of her bra.

I sample the silken texture of them, pushing her

shirt away to hang at her sides. Her bacchesches,

pushing her into me as I nip and tug at the taut

nipples beneath the slip of lace and satin.

“What are you doing to me?” She asks

breathlessly.

Nothing, Agent Scully, if not claiming what is

mine; what has always been mine.

She’s a wanton siren, azure eyes blazing beneath

the thick blackness of her lashes; ripe, berried

lips parted in invitation as she breathes

erratically. I can almost hear her silent question –

“Why now?” can almost taste the intense

anticipation. It’s palpable. She slides against the

wall; up, down, striving to grind herself against

the groin that presses just a bit higher than where

she needs it.

I roughly jerk her skirt up, bunching it around

her waist. She cries out from the shock, and her

eyes glow darker, needier. I reach down to pull

off her panties and unzip my slacks.

Running a finger down the warm valley between

her breasts, feeling the wild palpitation of her

heart, I lean in to nuzzle at her ear.

“Deny it, Scully,” I whisper.

She shivers.

“Mulder . . .”

“Deny it. Deny what you know is real. Tell me

you don’t believe in love. Tell me and I’ll make

this stop, if that’s what you want. Because I’ve

been trying to remember a time when I didn’t

love you.”

Her lower lip quivers.

“I- I can’t.”

I can’t help the sigh of joy that spills into her ear.

Lifting her from her high-heeled stance to wrap

her legs around my waist, I’m amazed by how

light she is. How her legs seem to have already

found a natural groove around my body. She

snakes one slender arm around my neck, one to

clutch around the wall dividing my rooms.

When I enter her, it’s almost more than I can

bear. She’s so warm, so incredibly slick. We

move erratically, desperate to absorb every

second of this perfection, aching to pull each

other in. Her heels dig into my lower back and

her hands scrabble for better purchase on the

wall behind us.

In a great gasp, she comes, shuddering against

me as her inner walls tighten. I follow close

behind.

She’s limp against me, both of us struggling for

breath. I kiss her damp neck and slide us to the

floor, cradling her in my lap.

“Now, about that statement; your ‘I don’t believe

in love any more . . .’”

“Mulder,” she interrupts. “I want to believe.”

~ The End ~



Additional Note: Below is the beautiful haiku

written by Toniann, which was the inspiration

for this little story ~

I dare you: deny

how your blood burns hotter when

my skin touches yours

Isn’t that lovely?