Title: Venery
Author: E. Simmering
Rating: Red Hot - X-Rated 
Category: hmm....a relationship of sorts
Spoilers: Nope - maybe a melted screen? 
Summary: Just read it
Fandomonium interim challenge 
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money passed hands, and I always
put them back when I'm done.
Thanks to Tali for beta - wouldn't be posting this if she hadn't
pushed. 



Venery

She has to stop doing this. It's been a whole year, but she just 
can't seem to help herself. It has gotten worse as time has gone 
on. At first she was watching him all the time, worried about how 
he was doing. Later on, when he started to bring *her* back to his 
house, she restricted herself to an occasional weekend. Now she 
couldn't go a single day without coming by. She didn't begrudge 
him the life he now enjoyed, not really. It just seemed so - so 
unfair. She felt used up, worn out. And he just looked better and 
better. Regular sex did that, all those endorphins released. He 
had someone to talk to, share ideas with. She choked back a tear. 
She had no one. Truthfully, she never was one to share very much. 
Not her toys, not her feelings, not her Mulder.  

She caught sight of movement in the window and raised her 
binoculars. He was gesturing, pointing to something just out of 
her sight. Another figure entered her field of vision, pulling 
his arms down, soothing him with calming strokes. He stilled, and 
she watched the woman embrace him. Then she was gone and he was 
moving through the apartment to another room. She liked the fact 
that his new apartment was a corner unit. When she managed to get 
this parking spot she didn't have to move. She could see all 
three front rooms, and the binoculars helped. She wondered what 
he would say if he knew she could - and had - watched him pee. 
These windows were lower, allowing her to see much more of him. 
Only once did an officer wanting to know what she was doing 
approach her. Her badge spoke for her. He didn't look too 
closely, didn't notice the picture and her face were years apart. 

She saw his silhouette shadowed behind the gauzy curtains and 
prayed for a little light. This was his bedroom and sometimes his 
indulgences fed her fantasies for weeks. She was rewarded when he 
moved and did just that. The soft glow allowed her to see a 
little more clearly as he began to remove his clothes. She 
sometimes wondered if he knew she was out here watching. There 
were times, like now, when he seemed to be performing for her. 

He stood in front of the window and began to slowly undo his 
shirt buttons, his fingers caressing his chest as they moved 
down. The shirt fell open and he shrugged it open just a little 
more, but didn't take it off. She let out a small gasp as his 
hands moved to tease his nipples. She squeezed her legs together 
as her body responded. His hands made slow, circular motions, 
pulling and twisting. God, she was glad she spent the extra money 
for the higher-powered lens. She could see his nipples reacting, 
hardening. 

His hands moved lower, smoothing over the planes of his abdomen 
to reach his jeans. Both hands traced the outline of his penis 
and cupped his balls through the faded fabric. 

When he spread his legs further apart and one hand moved to undo 
the button a small gasp escaped her. She loved it when he did it 
like this, a long, slow tease. One hand moved back up to his 
chest, while the other continued to thoroughly explore the bulge 
in his jeans that was growing visibly larger. She adjusted 
herself in her seat, kicking off her shoe and tucking one leg 
under her in such a way that she could rock herself against her 
foot. It would be enough, for now. She wiped one sweaty hand, and 
then the other on her skirt. 

Both hands were back at his jeans. She was panting now, as he 
slowly lowered the zipper. A groan as she realized he had no 
underwear on. Oh god. A shadow hinting at the darker hair there - 
she could imagine it was her fingers stroking through, feeling 
the fine silkiness of it, though she'd never gotten the chance. 
His hand disappeared, his head was thrown back and she could 
imagine the throaty groan he would make.

Both hands moved now to the waistband of his jeans. He swivelled 
his hips, just a little and pulled them lower, just enough to 
allow his penis to spring free, his balls to spill over the open 
gap. Oh, it was glorious. One hand cupped and rolled his balls 
while the other was making long, smooth strokes along his cock. 
She could see how hard it was, could even make out the gloss of 
fluid escaping the tip. Her tongue automatically snaked out, in 
imitation of licking that little droplet, sucking it in, tasting 
the tang of him. His hand left it slow exploration of his balls 
and - oh - she rocked faster - his finger traced the tip, 
gathering the moisture there and bringing it to his lips, slowly 
sucking it off. He licked his hand, thoroughly wetting it and his 
head dropped as both hands went to work jerking faster. 

She knew the moment he was about to come. His mouth was open, his 
head thrown back, his penis impossibly large, hard, glistening. 
One hand disappeared further into his jeans, oh god, she knew 
where those fingers were and she wished she could see them, 
pressing into the opening, increasing the pressure, his orgasm 
building. She could almost hear his groans, his gasp of pleasure 
as he came, semen smattering the window, his hand moving faster 
and faster as he emptied himself. She ached to push her own 
fingers into herself and relieve the pressure, but she didn't 
dare take her eyes from him. She wanted to catalogue every 
moment, every touch his hands made, wanted to remember every 
exquisite detail. 

She dug the heel of her foot in harder, rocked forward - oh - 
right there. The binoculars slipped from her hands and both hands 
were under her skirt, pushing into herself, god she was wet, so 
wet and coming so hard. 

She looked back up, his figure smaller viewed without 
magnification. Framed by the window he leaned forward, his 
forehead resting against the glass. She watched as she appeared 
from behind him, naked, and she was abruptly reminded that the 
show was not for her, not anymore. She pulled her skirt down, 
tucked the binoculars under the seat and started up her car. 

And like every other night she did this, she swore it was the 
last one, the last time she would put herself through it. 

A lie, but one that would do until the next time.