Domesticated II More My impatience made me struggle with the ribs a little more than
usual. It wasn't easy to eat them one-handed, but I've always
found the means to do the things I wanted to do, no matter the
obstacles, anyway.
Mulder kept shooting me amused glances. Despite my best efforts
at concealment, he seemed to know that something was up but was
too polite to say so, knowing also that I hadn't meant for him to
see it. He intended to let me tell him in my own time. Frightening
that we knew one another so well at times.
And screwed up so badly at others.
Which brought me back to the gift. I didn't know which it was yet.
Only a few months ago, living hand to mouth as I had been, the
Apocalypse itself couldn't have torn me away from a meal.
Tonight, I abandoned all patience and said, "Could we reheat the
rest later? I have something I want to show you."
Mulder smiled, black-garnet sauce rouging his lips. He looked like
a sloppy but happy kid. He'd changed out of his suit into blue
jeans and an old black T-shirt, not unlike my usual outfit. He had
his bare feet propped up on the coffee table and leaned back a little
further into the couch. He tore the last scrap of meat off his
current rib with his teeth, put the bone down on the plate, and said,
"Sure. I suck at waiting anyway."
I put aside all my thoughts about his lips, teeth, and tongue to get
back to the subject at hand. //Hopefully, we can do all that later.//
"We have to clean up first. No way I'm letting you touch it with
those hands."
His smile deepened. "While you're immaculate."
"I'll be cleaning up too."
"No problem." He dove in and kissed me. He tasted sweet, spicy,
and meaty, giving me thoughts of slathering him in sauce and
devouring him. It was a bit awkward with both of us trying to
keep our messy hands off the couch and each other, but that hardly
stopped us from enjoying ourselves. We licked each other's lips
clean.
Fortunately, Mulder was so enthused at the thought of a surprise
for him that he didn't start on my saucy fingers, or we would have
been on that couch forever. Not an unpleasant possibility, but it
would still leave me waiting for his reaction to my gift. Not that I
would remember that while Mulder was at work on me... Hey...
But before I could encourage him in that direction, Mulder took his
tongue back, got up, and headed for the bathroom.
I washed up at the kitchen sink, then retrieved the simply wrapped
box from the cupboard. While I had been on my way back from
disposing of the body of the most recent idiot who'd tried to bug
Mulder's apartment, I'd passed a shop and gotten an idea. In a fit
of enthusiasm, I'd followed through on it without having a second
thought until hours later. Then I had third, fourth, and fifth
thoughts too.
Considering last night's fight, I worried that he might not take this
the way I meant it. Sure, last night's fight and making up had also
inspired the gift, but... The gift had started as a joke but turned to
something else the more I thought about it.
I could have just buried the box in a closet somewhere and never
told him about it, but I hated to back down from anything. I
brought it to the couch with me and sat down.
He all but glowed as he settled in next to me. Everyone loved
presents, but Mulder did even more than most. I got the feeling
he'd never gotten many. "What's the occasion?" he asked.
"No real occasion, it was just whim. Oh, hell, have a very merry
unbirthday, Mulder."
Hurricane Mulder tore through the plain black wrapping paper. He
slowed a bit as he lifted the box lid and sifted through the tissue
paper. He lifted out the contents.
Bells jingled. Rhinestones and metal flashed in the light. His face
went blank as he fingered one of the two, black leather collars that
had been linked together. One collar had a red metal tag beneath
its bell that had the name "Alex" engraved on it. The other had a
green one that read "Mulder."
After last night's discussion, giving him a collar for me might not
have made any waves; I had told him to own me last night,
which he'd proceeded to do very thoroughly for five hours.
Getting one for him... was arrogant and presumptuous, but why
should I change now?
What kind of commitment did giving your lover a personalized cat
collar suggest anyway?
I had only realized how committed I had become to him last night.
What if he didn't feel the same way? Whatever it was we had was
such a rare thing for me, and was balanced on such a knife's edge.
This gift might force the break up we'd narrowly avoided last
night.
Did he... want me enough to do this?
He looked more thoughtful than angry, which I took to be a good
sign. I took a deep breath and proceeded to pretend that I had only
bought one for me. "It's a big responsibility, you know."
He was completely lost in thought. "What?"
"Ownership. There's feeding, grooming—"
"Grooming could be nice."
I took it as encouragement. "Petting."
"Petting is necessary. Could we do belly-rubbing?"
I started to breathe again. "What is your obsession with my— All
right."
"And we swear to never ever get one another fixed."
"You couldn't fix me if you tried." Then I realized what he'd just
said. "'One another'?"
Mulder unbuckled the collars and put his on, bell jingling all the
way. When he lifted his head, the flash of rhinestones couldn't
match the gleam of his crooked smile. He held out my collar, and I
leaned forward. I couldn't help shivering as his long fingers
brushed the nape of my neck when he buckled it. He flicked my
bell with his forefinger to make it ring, then pulled me in for a
long, thorough kiss that left me dizzy. Soon we were draped along
one another.
Mulder's soft, throaty voice sounded so shaky, but the sense of
wonder I heard in it amazed me. "Now... now we own each other."
THE END "One thing I know:
(And I need all the love that I can't get to)
D'you get scared to feel so much?
by Viridian5
I throttled down the urge to fidget in an uncomfortable
combination of anticipation and anxiety. I should have just gotten
it over with as soon as he'd walked in the door instead of letting
him order Chinese and have dinner. He couldn't actually be eating
those spare ribs as slowly as he seemed to be. I was so nervous I
couldn't even enjoy the decadent, barbaric way he always ripped
into them.
I want more.
I want more.
(And I need all the love I can get)
(And I need all the love that I can't get to)
To let somebody touch you?
So hot, so cold, so far, so out of control,
Hard to come by, and harder to hold..."
—"More" by the Sisters of Mercy
