Welcome To The Harem
High by Heather Stone
Summary: Mulder/Fowley, Fowley POV.
Archivist's note: Email bounced. If you're the author and would like to formalise consent or have the story removed, please drop me a line. From: Heather Stone l_w_girl@yahoo.com Date: Sat, 18 Mar 2000 03:33:43 GMT Subject: New: "High" (1/1) by Heather Stone Title: High (1/1) Author: Heather Stone E-Mail: heaths36@yahoo.com Rating: R Category/Keywords: V, M/Fowley, Fowley POV Spoilers/Timeline: No explicit spoilers, but let's say all the Diana episodes up to the end of Season 6 just to be safe. Set sometime before Biogenesis. Feedback: Please! It's been a while since I've written fanfic, and this fic was written on a sick little impulse of mine... I'm not quite sure what to think of it myself. Archive: Do not archive at Gossamer. Ephemeral and Spooky awards okay. Anywhere else, if you want it, you can probably have it, but please ask first. Disclaimer: Let's see if I remember how to do this... it's been a looooong time since I've posted anything. None of the characters in the story belong to me. They are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and 20th Century Fox. The title and end quote are taken from "High" by Sarah Slean, which I do not own either. Author's notes at the end. ****** "High" by Heather Stone He never looks at me when we make love. From the moment his breath quickens in desire, his eyes squeeze shut. He can feel my body on him, in him, surrounding him, but he doesn't want to see it. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. I kiss his chest, his face contorts. I feel his moan, thick with a mixture of pain and desire, even before I hear it. God, this power is intoxicating. I kiss him again, just hear the effect I have on him. Lord forgive me for what I am doing. I prey on his weaknesses. I could kill him right now, tear him apart, and it would be easy. I reach down. I stroke him, caress him. It's too much for him to take. Any chance that he could have resisted me is gone now. He's high with his desire, his need. She gives him almost everything he wants, everything he needs, but she apparently does not give him this. For this, he comes to me. I purr his name, his first name, so he remembers where he is, and just who it is touching him right now. A whimper escapes his lips, and he turns his head towards the wall. He doesn't like it when I remind him who is making love to him. He's afraid of me, afraid of all of this. He should be. I could undo him, bring him crashing down in an instant now if I wanted to. He may think he trusts me, that may be what he tells her, and himself, but I can see the his fear in these moments. There is so much that I could do to him, so many ways I could use his fragility against him. It still amazes me what he risks sacrificing for these fleeting little moments we have together. I know all that he has done for her. He clings to her desperately, as if his own survival depends upon it. What would she think of you if she knew about this? Would she still stand at your side if she could see us right now? Would she still look up at you with love in her eyes? My hands trail upwards, nails raking lightly across his torso, past his neck. I grasp his face gently, but firmly, and turn it back towards me. He may not want to see my face, but I definitely want to watch his. It doesn't have to be this way, Fox. We could have the kind of relationship now that we used to have, where every word between us was sacred, every touch magical. You used to say that the world changed when we were together. Always so romantic, so trite with your pillow talk. Of course, you don't say those things to me anymore, do you? Open your eyes and look at me, Fox. I could change your world for you again. I could be everything for you that you think she is. I could be more. I run my fingers over his lips before brushing them with my own mouth. He kisses me back, feverishly. I chuckle softly into his mouth. He's a willing participant now, it's not all my fault anymore. He is weak. Despite all his better judgements, he wants this, he wants me, and I cannot be blamed for his weakness. When he first started coming to me like this, late at night, yearning for something-- knowledge, understanding, compassion, affection, what exactly I don't know-- I used maintain an air of indifference to the whole affair. I would offer him a drink, he would always accept. I would let his hand linger a little too long over mine. My hand to his cheek, gentle murmurs or concern on my tongue. Lean in just a little too close, make him think that the first kiss was his idea... Undress slowly and methodically, first myself, then him... Fall to the floor before we could make it to the bedroom... I let him inside me quietly, without protest, without encouragement... And most importantly, pretend not to notice the fact that he cannot look me while all of it is happening... or the obvious guilt in his eyes when it is over. I didn't think he would come back, at least not so soon. I had not figured I could get him addicted so quickly. It was just a little over a week before he returned. I played the game much as I had the first time, pretending I wasn't expecting him to kiss me, letting the evening play out as if I had no control over the situation. The game changed slowly, not all at once. It took several encounters to get to where we are tonight, in my bed, his body pinned under mine. His hands are on me now, across my ass, along my breasts, everywhere. He's ready now, ready to be in me, to let go, and he does not really care if I am ready now or not. I poise over him now, he thrusts up towards me, but I keep for distance for the moment. "I love you," I whisper to him. He doesn't reply, only grunts in return. I try again. "I love you, Fox." "Mmm, love you too. Love you," he moans. He's gone now, everything else, everyone else, forgotten. Nothing else matters to him at this moment except the high. He would say anything to me right now. I lower myself, take him into me. He is still murmuring nonsense about love in my direction. It won't be long now for either of us. He'll come hard and fast with tears down his cheeks. His fall back to earth will be hard and fast too. He will lie beside me, and there will be no more fevered kisses, no more talk of love. He'll be gone from my bed long before morning. But this will not be his last visit. I've given, and taken away, too much for him to break away from me now. I hold power over him. God, what a high. **** "Always wonder why your eyes are closed; Don't you want to see me closing mine? Heaven help me, I'll devour him. See me drawing out his spine." -- Sarah Slean "High" **** Author's notes: This story was inspired by, and borrows heavily from, the songs "High" and "Habit" by the fabulous Sarah Slean. If you want to read the lyrics, or listen to the songs, visit www.sarahslean.com/home.htm . Big thanks beta reader and all around sweet person, Annie Sewell-Jennings for encouraging me with this, even though she is a rabid shipper. :) Hell, so am I; this fic came as a surprise to me too. This story is for my bestest buddy, and fellow Sarah Slean fanatic, Sarah the Flying Squirrel, because she is extremly cool and she encouraged me to post this.
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