Summary: A morning ritual. Skinner/Reyes.

Disclaimers: Characters contained herein are property
of FOX, 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. Products
described herein are trademarked/patented by The Bath
and Body Works. *g*

Rating: R for sensuality

Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral, ReyesRomances and XFMU
may have it. I'll post to "Risky Business" and the
Spookys myself. Anywhere else, just ask.

Feedback: PLEASE. To azarsuerte@hotmail.com or
drjekel@hotmail.com

Acknowledgments: To Anne Hedonia and Langleigh for
easing my fears. I've never written anything like this
before and wasn't sure I could write it. :-) Also
thanks to Anne for her warm and funny story "A Couple
of Head Cases"--that story and this one have just
about nothing in common, but nevertheless there's a
little tribute to it towards the end. :-)

Spoilers: through Season 9

Keywords: SkRR (possible first in a series of
vignettes)

Summary: A morning ritual.


"Essential"
by Julie L. Jekel


The alarm started the process of waking him, but it
was the familiar slap-thud of her hand silencing it
that brought him to full awareness. Rolling over, he
sat up and let his half-awake eyes fall on the form
beside him. Monica was sprawled prone on her stomach,
the fingers of one hand still splayed across the
now-chastized alarm.

He smiled, tracing the line of her closer shoulder
with a languid hand. "C'mon, lazybones. Time to wake
up."

She shifted, murmuring grumpily, but made no move to
shake off the sleep that still clung to her.

Still smiling, he forced his voice to turn stern and
commanding. "Agent Reyes, may I remind you that you
have a responsibility--"

She grunted, managing to slur out: "John can live
without me for an hour or two."

He supressed a laugh. "Maybe, but I might have a hard
time explaining my apparent collusion with your
tardiness."

Her answering silence suggested that she was sure he'd
think of something.

Apparently, drastic measures were called for. Leaning
over the half-sleeping form of his bedmate, he fumbled
with the objects on the bedside table. Finally he
grasped a small bottle of dark, amber-colored plastic.
Uncapping it, he tapped the bottle against his palm
until a white glob appeared in it. His smile broadened
as he breathed in the tangy scent--ginger and orange.

Aromatherapy was something he'd heard about, but never
given any credence to before she came into his life.
Even the first few times they'd performed these little
rituals, it was more of an indulgence of her endearing
eccentricity on his part. Until he started noticing
that it seemed to work...

He smiled. She'd brought a myriad of rituals into his
life, but this still remained one of his favorites.

Setting the bottle aside, he rubbed his hands together
and reached for her again. First the pulse points--one
hand lightly brushed her hair aside while the other
tenderly but firmly began to rub the lotion into the
soft skin of her neck.

The object of his ministrations moaned weakly, a sound
of both pleasure and reluctant protest.

Next he reached for the arm nearest him, taking her
hand between his and gently coating the flesh of her
wrist. He knew he should move next to the other wrist,
but decided to improvise in the interest of subtlety.
Pausing only to replenish the supply of lotion in his
hands, he attacked the rest of her arm.

Monica wriggled a little in half-hearted objection.

"Oh no," He growled affectionately. "You're not
getting away that easily."

Still pinning the extended arm to the mattress, he
shifted under the covers until he was straddling her
waist from behind. Reaching for the bottle, he poured
a little more into his open palm.

Strong but gentle hands traced the line of her
shoulders, caressing the oil slowly downward in long,
circular strokes. They circled her waist, lifting her
gently from the mattress as he smoothed the lotion
over every inch of her belly that he could reach.
Fingertips brushed the underside of her breasts,
causing him to fight for both breath and control. Then
his hands moved down to--and under--the lace hem of
her panties.

That seemed to be the winning stroke. She writhed,
twisting under him so that she faced him, not the
pillow. "I'm awake, I'm awake."

Satisfied, even though he had succeeded in arousing
himself as much as her, he moved as if to shift off
her. Firm, long-fingered hands clamped down on his
shoulders.

"Not so fast, Mister. Come back here and finish what
you started."

It was the little things like this which made his life
with her so different from his life as a bachelor, as
Sharon's husband, or as a divorcee. These little
things that made her as essential to him as any oil.

As had also become ritual, despite their best
intentions, they were still late.


FIN


"I couldn't brainwash you if I wanted to."
"Well, you might try, but I don't know how long I'd
stay clean."
--me and Langleigh