Title: La Vie de Sang Author: Rhia Ramsay Rating: R Category: Vignette, Romance Keywords: MSR Spoilers: None Summary: "But instinct, like the instinct that guided their frantic movements, took over, and the choice to resist was lost..." Archive: I'll send to Gossamer, Spookys, Ephemeral, anyone else please ask first. Feedback: Is always adored, even if I'm slow to responding to it. ;-) RhiaRamsay@aol.com Disclaimer: They're not mine. I wish they were. La Vie de Sang Rhia Ramsay The white enamel of his teeth glided along the damp skin of her neck, pushing the fine gold chain that dangled there out of the way. He could feel the blood rushing through the veins beneath, speeding through her body with the intensity of their actions. Bodies moved in an immortal dance, shifting and sliding amongst the bed sheets. He buried his nose in her neck as her fingernails scored the muscles in his back, and he moaned low in his throat. The moan vibrated through her skin, and the pressure of her nails increased, an unending circle. Hardened flesh merged with skin like wet silk, and gasps arose from the two entwined figures. Buried deep inside her, he could practically feel the flames lapping at his back. If he concentrated, he could see the little wisps of steam rising off of their skins. Movements hastened, driving towards the inevitable peak, and he felt the urge come over him again. As hard as he tried to stave it off every time they engaged in this dance, it had an undeniable pull over his soul, just like she did. He tried to push the urge back, hoping that this one time, just this once during their lovemaking, he could stop himself. But instinct, like the instinct that guided their frantic movements, took over, and the choice to resist was lost to him. His body began to shake and shudder, as he buried his head in her neck once more. The tip of his tongue flicked out against the steaming skin, testing the waters, tasting the salt and the undercurrents of blood and passion. He rubbed his bared teeth carefully against the pulsing vein there, using moves designed to arouse, and to distract. Without warning his teeth sharply sunk into her skin, and the blood gushed out and around his mouth. Through half closed eyes he could see the crimson streams painting her skin in delicate ribbons. The blood coursed through his system, mingling with his own. Viscous liquid flowed over his tongue almost as fast as he could gulp it down. Somewhere, in a distant part of his brain not clouded by the bloodrush, he registered a stinging pain on the side of his own neck. Sympathy pains, he supposed, as he gave himself over to ecstasy. * * * The first rays of morning light found him, and Mulder peeled back his eyelids, which retreated hastily to a squint at the sudden onslaught of sunlight. With a resigned sigh, he licked away the last traces of blood on his teeth, and his gaze wandered over to Scully's bare back, heaving up and down with the movements of deep slumber. His eyes lingered on her exposed neck, where there was no trace of what had happened the night before. His hand moved to rub his own smooth, unbroken neck. Of course, he felt bad about what he was doing to her, but he knew that it was uncontrollable. Mulder knew for a fact that 'it' had never happened with anyone else he had been with, just Scully. Maybe it was a testament to the power of his love for her. If so, it was a pretty fucked up testament. Maybe someday I'll tell her, Mulder thought as he drifted back to sleep. From her own side of the bed, still deeply enshrouded in sleep, Scully's hand stole upwards to wipe one last offending streak of blood from her lip. The words 'Maybe someday I'll tell him', wandered through her mind as she kept on dreaming.