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Here’s your body and here’s your skin that carries everything, totes it all like a human sack, the mark on your chest not a mark, pushing your shoulders back, your soft little neck aching and fleshly and emotional. Let’s say like ocean, or the sky, or the light casting a shadow or a bruise or a scar. Wanting everywhere, even in your knees, the bones twitching all at once. Let’s say you and the boy are kissing, the night is noiseless and the moon is dim. Your lips are red and your hands are warm, your rifle heart, you’re elbow to chest or mouth to cheek. Now look at his face, like a blessing or a miracle. Consider touching his thigh, put your fingers in his lap like you mean it, right now we both know you want to. There’s no mistake. The boy is a horse galloping towards you. Don’t hold your breath. Make a noise. You’ve done nothing wrong. This is light. This is a beautiful thing, the stars lined up, a wordless prayer kneeling in your throat. The boy is a beautiful view. Open the window. Devour the light. Keep howling at the satellite in his chest.
X-Files Fic: She’s Beauty, She's Grace- Chapter Ten
Well, it’s two days too late to be a proper birthday gift, but… Happy Birthday, @kateyes224! Thank you for asking me to write this! I’ll admit that I had my doubts about being the right person for the job, but it didn’t turn out so bad!
Scully wakes feeling as warm and satisfied as it’s possible to feel when waking up alone, with a burning and delicious ache between her legs, a new and most welcome set of pains to join those in her stomach and in her calves. She sits up in bed, reaching over to the nightstand to take a long drink from the glass of water that Mulder had, thoughtfully, set there for her last night, before stealing quietly back into his own room.
That had been the one unsatisfying part of the evening: when they’d finished, there had been no question of whether they could drift off to sleep in one another’s arms, in the warmth of the afterglow. It might have been worth risking, had Mulder had his own hotel room, but Skinner would most certainly have noticed if Mulder had not come to bed at all that night. Something to look forward to when we get back to Washington, Scully tells herself, as she kicks off the covers and climbs out of bed.
Scully stretches gingerly, and is just getting ready to shower, when there’s a knock on her door. She crosses the room slowly to open it, and standing on the other side, looking very tired and slightly sheepish, is Elise.
“Sorry for running off on you last night,” she says as she enters, carrying the tote containing all her makeup and hair supplies. "Tina and I got to talking, and before I knew it, it was well after midnight.“ Scully smiles understandingly.
"It’s no problem,” she says, closing the door and following Elise into the room. "I don’t think I needed anything, anyway. I had some aches in my legs, but Mulder helped me handle them.“ Elise raises her eyebrows, and Scully feels herself go red all over. "I just mean he rubbed some Bengay on them. Gave me a massage. That’s all.” Elise continues to grin.
“Was he any good at it?” she asks.
“Sorry.” Elise’s grin is, if anything, even more smug than before.
Scully bites her lip and looks down. Her mind is doing battle with itself, her instinct to be private at war with the feeling Elise gives her: that Scully can tell her anything, that she won’t judge.
“Yeah,” Scully finally says, smiling into her lap, “he was good at it.” Elise makes a squealing noise reminiscent of a boiling teakettle. "But before you ask, I am not divulging any details.“
"I’d never ask,” says Elise, laughing. "I’m just happy to know you had as good a night as I did.“