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applecameronTitle: Inclined to Handel's Water Music
Author: SV, 1998
Fandom: The X-Files
Author's Notes:An X-Files erotic vignette, starring Special Agent Dana Scully, maybe a ghost or two or three, and an out of tune piano.
Cameo appearance by: Special Agent Fox Mulder.
Chris Carter created our two agents, I'm responsible for the alleged
ghost(s) and the furnishings. Suing me over this would be silly.
Reprinted by express permission.
"Inclined to Handel's Water Music",
by Sidra Vitale
She was surprised to see two pianos. For an empty room of old furniture and dust, the storeroom was somehow...comfortable. There was a very dead wing chair in the corner, a slowly deflating sofa, and two upright pianos. No doubt out of tune.
"What a waste of a musical instrument." She tsked.
Scully was investigating the house while Mulder distracted the residents - victims, so they said, of a haunting.
It was a Saturday morning, and Mulder had gotten her up just early enough that Scully would *really* have appreciated another 15 minutes sleep. Just 15. But here they were, snooping through the Virginia home of 4 generations of the Kipling "yes, very distant relatives" family, looking for indications of a hoax. It didn't seem quite an X-file, but they were there, Mulder was interested, and so was Scully. It wasn't often they looked into hauntings, they were kind of mundane in comparison to some of the really strange occurrences they'd dealt with. Jersey devils and far-flung conspiracies.
But there were these two pianos.
One of the characteristics of the hauntings was musical. Supposedly, there were various thumps and noises - which seemed to be tentatively explainable by the fact that it was an old house - and classical music from an unknown source.
The Kiplings claimed this had started just in the past couple of years. They had two young children, ages 3 and 4.
Mulder was conducting an in-depth interview, and eventually would ask for a walking tour of the home - leaving her to 'go on ahead, exploring' without a chaperone, to see what she might find.
Scully was unclear why Mulder seemed to already believe this haunting to be fraudulent, yet still wanted to come out and look at it. Maybe this was just his idea of taking a break.
Letting the door close softly behind her, Scully came forward into the storeroom, noting the level of dust. Just barely not enough to track footprints in, but an obviously unused room. There was a light hanging from the ceiling that didn't work, and sunlight warmed the room through a dusty window.
She was on the third floor -- who in their right minds would bring a piano up three floors? But, there were two upright pianos, dusty, with the smudged handprints of a child -- and a larger set that must be one of the parents -- showing clearly. Obviously, the second piano wasn't involved - there was no way to get to it without moving the first one, and there were not enough marks on the wood floor for it to be getting used regularly. Scully pulled out a penlight to look at the first piano closely. Was it the source of the 'haunting music'?
The strangest current moved through her when she touched the piano leg. A warmth, a feeling of intimacy, of security.
Needless to say, she was startled.
Scully rose, penlight firmly in hand, checked that the door behind her was still shut. No one was in the room with her. The window was painted shut. She nodded to herself and touched the piano.
This time it was much stronger, and Scully closed her eyes. A wave of comfort, of warmth, of sexual heat washed through her and she nearly stumbled. Hand dropped away from the piano, but the feeling just intensified. She was held up by something other than herself, a strength that would refuse her nothing. She was falling into the warmth, into the security. And it was a relief.
A relief to let go, to rest in the comfort offered by a hundred hands caressing her, holding her still, holding her safe. No solid masks she had to hide behind, just once she could let go, the hands said, just let go.
Scully felt like she was floating in a warm sea. Hands caressed and held her -- there was no need for her to do anything at all. Just float and let her cares fall away with every touch. There was music playing, she could hear it at the edge of her awareness. A piano. Something soft and lyrical and almost sad.
Hands touched her, stroking her body through her clothes, massaging her every limb. Pulling a deep pleasure from within, building desire as the hands reached between her thighs, leaving no part of her untouched. The music rose.
She was moaning without a sound, caressed all over at once, held safe and fully loved. Hands on her breasts, hands reaching from behind her, from below her, to stroke between her legs, hands that would not let her fall, would not let her go, would not leave her. Her desire built and crested like a wave on the ocean, absorbed and rebuilt and crested again.
And she was floating on a sea of warmth and pleasure and satisfaction, hands caressing her again and again, wringing out all her worries, all her fears, all her pain. Each stroke leaving behind only love, and faith, and security. Until there was nothing more than just Scully, floating freely.
Hands on her still, reaching through her, deep inside, to cover her, to fill her, probing and stroking, until her awareness spun out into a fine line of nothing but pleasure, nothing but herself, and the moment. A fine line that coiled, and stretched as she gasped soundlessly, then burst like a star.
[][][]
Scully opened her eyes when Mulder called her name, surprised at the sight of her. She looked like the Hanged Man out of a Tarot deck, arms outstretched, one leg cocked, lying on the floor. And then she opened her eyes and he remembered to breathe.
Mulder crouched by his partner and held her head up as she rose. "Scully?" The smile on her face was a strangely joyous one. "Scully?"
She took a breath and looked at him. He could watch her face changing, shifting back to her normal Scully work-face. Except, for someone who'd apparently tripped and knocked herself silly for a moment, she was...luminous. As if she'd just been asleep and had the most marvelous dream.
"Scully?" The Kiplings were crowded in the doorway, watching them, judging them with their black crows-eyes. Saying nothing.
"I'm fine, Mulder."
And, for once, he believed. So did she.
Author: SV, 1998
Fandom: The X-Files
Author's Notes:An X-Files erotic vignette, starring Special Agent Dana Scully, maybe a ghost or two or three, and an out of tune piano.
Cameo appearance by: Special Agent Fox Mulder.
Chris Carter created our two agents, I'm responsible for the alleged
ghost(s) and the furnishings. Suing me over this would be silly.
Reprinted by express permission.
"Inclined to Handel's Water Music",
by Sidra Vitale
She was surprised to see two pianos. For an empty room of old furniture and dust, the storeroom was somehow...comfortable. There was a very dead wing chair in the corner, a slowly deflating sofa, and two upright pianos. No doubt out of tune.
"What a waste of a musical instrument." She tsked.
Scully was investigating the house while Mulder distracted the residents - victims, so they said, of a haunting.
It was a Saturday morning, and Mulder had gotten her up just early enough that Scully would *really* have appreciated another 15 minutes sleep. Just 15. But here they were, snooping through the Virginia home of 4 generations of the Kipling "yes, very distant relatives" family, looking for indications of a hoax. It didn't seem quite an X-file, but they were there, Mulder was interested, and so was Scully. It wasn't often they looked into hauntings, they were kind of mundane in comparison to some of the really strange occurrences they'd dealt with. Jersey devils and far-flung conspiracies.
But there were these two pianos.
One of the characteristics of the hauntings was musical. Supposedly, there were various thumps and noises - which seemed to be tentatively explainable by the fact that it was an old house - and classical music from an unknown source.
The Kiplings claimed this had started just in the past couple of years. They had two young children, ages 3 and 4.
Mulder was conducting an in-depth interview, and eventually would ask for a walking tour of the home - leaving her to 'go on ahead, exploring' without a chaperone, to see what she might find.
Scully was unclear why Mulder seemed to already believe this haunting to be fraudulent, yet still wanted to come out and look at it. Maybe this was just his idea of taking a break.
Letting the door close softly behind her, Scully came forward into the storeroom, noting the level of dust. Just barely not enough to track footprints in, but an obviously unused room. There was a light hanging from the ceiling that didn't work, and sunlight warmed the room through a dusty window.
She was on the third floor -- who in their right minds would bring a piano up three floors? But, there were two upright pianos, dusty, with the smudged handprints of a child -- and a larger set that must be one of the parents -- showing clearly. Obviously, the second piano wasn't involved - there was no way to get to it without moving the first one, and there were not enough marks on the wood floor for it to be getting used regularly. Scully pulled out a penlight to look at the first piano closely. Was it the source of the 'haunting music'?
The strangest current moved through her when she touched the piano leg. A warmth, a feeling of intimacy, of security.
Needless to say, she was startled.
Scully rose, penlight firmly in hand, checked that the door behind her was still shut. No one was in the room with her. The window was painted shut. She nodded to herself and touched the piano.
This time it was much stronger, and Scully closed her eyes. A wave of comfort, of warmth, of sexual heat washed through her and she nearly stumbled. Hand dropped away from the piano, but the feeling just intensified. She was held up by something other than herself, a strength that would refuse her nothing. She was falling into the warmth, into the security. And it was a relief.
A relief to let go, to rest in the comfort offered by a hundred hands caressing her, holding her still, holding her safe. No solid masks she had to hide behind, just once she could let go, the hands said, just let go.
Scully felt like she was floating in a warm sea. Hands caressed and held her -- there was no need for her to do anything at all. Just float and let her cares fall away with every touch. There was music playing, she could hear it at the edge of her awareness. A piano. Something soft and lyrical and almost sad.
Hands touched her, stroking her body through her clothes, massaging her every limb. Pulling a deep pleasure from within, building desire as the hands reached between her thighs, leaving no part of her untouched. The music rose.
She was moaning without a sound, caressed all over at once, held safe and fully loved. Hands on her breasts, hands reaching from behind her, from below her, to stroke between her legs, hands that would not let her fall, would not let her go, would not leave her. Her desire built and crested like a wave on the ocean, absorbed and rebuilt and crested again.
And she was floating on a sea of warmth and pleasure and satisfaction, hands caressing her again and again, wringing out all her worries, all her fears, all her pain. Each stroke leaving behind only love, and faith, and security. Until there was nothing more than just Scully, floating freely.
Hands on her still, reaching through her, deep inside, to cover her, to fill her, probing and stroking, until her awareness spun out into a fine line of nothing but pleasure, nothing but herself, and the moment. A fine line that coiled, and stretched as she gasped soundlessly, then burst like a star.
[][][]
Scully opened her eyes when Mulder called her name, surprised at the sight of her. She looked like the Hanged Man out of a Tarot deck, arms outstretched, one leg cocked, lying on the floor. And then she opened her eyes and he remembered to breathe.
Mulder crouched by his partner and held her head up as she rose. "Scully?" The smile on her face was a strangely joyous one. "Scully?"
She took a breath and looked at him. He could watch her face changing, shifting back to her normal Scully work-face. Except, for someone who'd apparently tripped and knocked herself silly for a moment, she was...luminous. As if she'd just been asleep and had the most marvelous dream.
"Scully?" The Kiplings were crowded in the doorway, watching them, judging them with their black crows-eyes. Saying nothing.
"I'm fine, Mulder."
And, for once, he believed. So did she.