Title: Her Sweet Red Lips
 Author: Maggie M
 Feedback to: dil@poczta.fm
 Category: Vignette
 Pairing (Primary): Mulder/Scully/Krycek
 Rating: NC-17
 Spoilers: None


 Her Sweet Red Lips

 

 "And her sweet red lips on these lips of mine Burned like the ruby fire
set  In the swinging lamp of a crimson shrine, Or the bleeding wounds of the
pomegranate, Or the heart of the lotus drenched and wet With the spilt-out
blood of the rose-red wine." 

 "In The Gold Room" Oscar Wilde. 





 She uncovers her body before my greedy eyes. A delicate, white body made
for love and pain. Sweet red lips, ivory skin, sapphire eyes. The little
flowers of her breasts. Bruises in the shape of my fingers, fading on her
slender hips. The purple marks on her thighs where my teeth tightened too
hard. Soft, foxy hair pulled back behind the small ears. 

 A soft, Foxy smell on her skin; I know she came to me right from his bed.

 She knows I know. She knows I will punish her for that and she trembles
with anticipation as I tie her hands to the bedpost. 

 She is his in the light of day and she is his in the inky darkness of the
night. But in the pre-dawn hours, when the world is gray and shapeless,
she belongs to me. 

 My little Aphrodite, ivory-limbed and blue-eyed. My beautiful, silent
Sphinx. 

 She offers herself to me with no shame. She spreads her legs wide in a
wanton gesture of a sweet submission. Her sex is swollen and tender from
the hours of lovemaking to him. I press my fingers there and she cries out
from the pain of a sudden intrusion. But she pushes her hips against my
hand, her hot and hungry gaze urging me on. 

 That's what she needs, that's what she craves, that's what she comes here
for. This is something he cannot give her for he worships her too much to
even consider harming her in any way. 

 And isn't that something I understand all too well? Because when it comes
to him and me, I am the one who sink to his knees in silent adoration,
begging for a touch never given and for words never spoken. Receiving in
return fist in the gut and kick in the ribs and a push against a wall and
a body being pressed against mine. And I'm not ashamed any more that it
makes me hard, because it makes him hard too. 

 He will never act upon these feelings, he won't even admit it. He wants
me and he hates himself for it. And he punishes himself with the knowledge
about her and me. Because he knows why she sneaks from his arms before the
dawn and why she returns sore, her cheeks still wet with tears, her skin
bruised. 

 I picture the hazel eyes filling with agony, as my fingers sink to the
knuckles in her aching flesh, stretching and probing until her eyes glaze
over. She's moaning and gasping for breath, her tied hands clench in
fists. I push harder and soon my whole hand is sheathed inside her. I move
it and she comes and comes and comes, screaming, arching her back, her
head trashing on the pillow. 

 When her body stills at last, I withdraw my hand slowly. The pain is
making her whimper and little pearls of her tears roll down her cheeks. 

 I kiss her ruby lips and she trembles when my hard organ rubs against her
the oversensitive, throbbing opening. I brutally thrust inside. A
strangled little cry escape her throat, she doesn't have the strength to
scream anymore. But soon her legs tighten around my waist and her moans of
pleasure fill the air. 

 I ride her hard. She won't be able to have sex with him for a long time
after that. And every time he looks at her the black-ringed and satiated
eyes he will know the reason. I don't know which one of us is turned on
more by that thought, because suddenly she's coming again, her body
writhing beneath me in ecstasy. Her inner muscle clench around me and I
come forcefully, filling her and claiming her. And through claiming her
claiming a part of him. 

 It's almost dawn outside the window. I watch as she carefully puts on her
clothes; there's a little hiss each time the fabric touches her sore skin.


 "Alex..." she says, the first word on her lips since she came here. 

 "Alex, I..." she breaks off, still unable to say that. Because these
words are reserved only for him. 

 "I know, Dana" I say "Me, too." 

 Because I couldn't say that either. Because I have them reserved only for
him, too. And she knows that. And we smile in mutual understanding before
she closes the door. 

 The end. 

 If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Maggie M dil@poczta.fm