My Ty by Tyger Cub

STORIES ON THIS SITE ARE INTENDED FOR ADULTS ONLY

The characters in this story related to the X-Files are owned by Chris Carter, 10-13, Fox, etc. Ty is mine. The things my character does to Mr. Carter's characters is definitely NC-17, consensual, erotic, fun... and has nothing to do with me trying to make money, or infringing on copyright. I'm just venting steam and sharing daydreams involving some of the sexiest characters on television today.

This is my first post of this sort, exclusive to this site, but depending on the feedback (flames, constructive criticism, etc.), Ty (an X-file just waiting to be found) may return. There is a plot behind this excerpt, though at the moment it's hazy and undefined. But it is there, just waiting for a little push to be finished. Let me know if you want more.

My Ty by Tyger Cub

Dana jumped at the hand on her shoulder, startled blue eyes wide in the warehouse's moonlit darkness, searching the face so close to her own.

"Shh..." The sound was low, meant to comfort and reassure. There is no danger. It's only me...

Her heart continued to race, refusing to believe the promise of safety. The face was, after all, part of the problem.

Enigmatic, hansom, cold... the face could easily be that of an arch-angel or a killer. Over the course of the last three days, Dana had seen actions that fit both descriptions, and the seamless shift from one to the other left her feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Pale, almost colorless blue eyes level with her own stared into her with an intensity that threatened to take her breath away. Her heart raced a little faster as the other leaned closer, a pale, elegant hand brushing, ever-so-lightly, across her cheek... fingers tracing the line of her jaw... trailing exquisite chills down her exposed throat...

Then was gone.

The face tilted sideways, cocked in a strange, bird-like fashion as it studied her closely. Dana returned the scrutiny, still struggling to determine the gender of her savior.

Still struggling to believe gender really mattered.

Could both women and men be hansom, Dana asked herself? For that's the only way to describe the face... Oval in shape, the features were masculine in their chiseled angles, but not sharp. Smooth and balanced. The eyes that blazed from beneath the pale brows were the most striking thing Dana had ever seen. They were sharp -- seemingly able to pierce anything they touched. Aggressive in their directness. The close cropped hair was more strawberry blond than her own deep auburn, the matching brows and almost invisible eyelashes the mark of a true red-head. Overall, the face would appear to be that of a man...

But add a little mascara to those nearly invisible eyelashes... a little eyeliner around the strange, colorless eyes... perhaps a touch of gloss on the full, dark lips, and... that face could grace the cover of any fashion magazine.

Man or woman? The shift between the two was alarming. Disturbing in its uncertainty. Distressing in its attraction.

When she'd first seen Ty... first confronted the figure with gun drawn and nerves frayed, shouting to get out of the car, Dana believed the cold eyed person to be male.

But since that first, violent encounter, Dana wasn't certain. Ty's voice was almost as androgenous as the face. Ranging from a low, angry growl to high, almost feminine sighs of relief... even the laugh varied according to mood and circumstance.

And when Ty moved...

Dana sighed as Ty moved closer, their bodies almost touching now.

When in motion, the strange figure flowed with the grace of a dancer. Or a predator. Ty was all sex and violence. Sleek muscle and soft motion. Feral elegance. Intense. Frightening.

"Easy..." the voice soothed, low now. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"No," she agreed, allowing a half-smile to pull at her mouth. If Ty wished to hurt her, Dana had no doubt she would be in pain right now. From the look in the other's eyes, though, pain was the last thing Dana could expect.

She allowed her eyes to close. If she didn't concentrate on the face, perhaps she could concentrate on uncoiling the hot twist of confusion that had settled, low, in her belly. Could control the arousal making her heart thunder and her blood sing. Could focus on something other than the soft caress passing through her hair.

Lips brushed past her own, breath slightly minty, and Dana flinched as though shocked. Three quick steps put her back to the wall and a little more breathing space between them. But it wasn't enough to cool the sudden electric heat that seared her flesh.

Ty simply stood there, watching the nervous woman. Waiting. Patient. It wasn't until some of the tension left Dana's frame that Ty slipped closer, back within arm's reach.

"What are you afraid of, Dana?"

"You," she blurted out before she could stop herself. Forcing herself to look at the person before her, Dana had to confront the fact she was completely terrified of the feelings the other evoked. "Who are you?"

The smile widened. "Someone who wants you." Taking another step closer again, Ty cradled the woman's face between graceful hands. "I want you Dana." The voice was husky. Low. Masculine.

She gasped as Ty's body suddenly leaned into her. Hard. Demanding. Same as the lips which brushed hers again. Once, lightly. Then again, more firmly, tongue flicking against her lips. Dana felt her hands come up and curl around Ty's elbows, whether to push away, or pull closer, she couldn't say. The lips traveling across her jaw worked slowly, deliciously to her ear.

"Give yourself to me..."

The whispered demand, low and sensual, sent an electric arc of longing up her body, breaking through the final chink in her formidable line of defenses. Her hands fell away from the other, relinquishing control. "Yes."

Strong hands slid down her throat, traveled across her collar bone, then on to her arms, smoothing them palm down against the wall. Dana felt the rough texture paint tingles across her fingertips, the sensation at odds with the soft feel of Ty's tongue dancing with her own.

She shivered as Ty's hands traveled back up her arms, then settled over her breasts, kneading them through the thick fabric of her clothes. With deliberate slowness, Ty unfastened the two buttons to Dana's blazer and pushed the fabric aside, then plucked the buttons of her blouse open, one by one, fingers lightly caressing the skin beneath. With a quick, almost practiced move, Ty shoved the blazer and blouse down over Dana's shoulders and off her arms, exposing her upper body to the moonlight. Her bra was a dark shadow against the lightness of her skin, and Ty quickly removed that as well.

Ty leaned back. "Open your eyes."

Dana complied, unable to stop herself. Ty's subtle voice was vibrant and compelling. The agent felt caught up in the pale eyes watching her, hypnotized by the heat radiating from their endless depth. How could she have ever thought them to be cold?

I look at the pale woman before me and smile in pure pleasure. She is beautiful. Moonlight paints her pale skin the color of alabaster, inviting a kiss. I accept, reveling in the shivers that chase my mouth across the silken terrain. Her breast are small, but firm, proportional to the rest of her body. I bend to kiss one, lingering over the pert nub, daring to suckle. Her gasp is my reward. I gently cup the other, my thumb caressing a counter-rhythm to my tongue, hoping to hear that sweet intake of breath again.

My free hand absently strokes her flank, feeling the taunt muscles beneath her skirt. I blindly let my fingers wander to find the fastening and ease it open, enjoying the anticipation building within her.

With a final nip, I leave her breasts and slide slowly to my knees before her, in supplication, begging for that which she can give. Both hands ease their way down over her hips, across her thighs, over shapely calves, to finally remove her low heels, massaging each foot as I do so. Again, I am rewarded with a sigh.

Sitting on my heels, I send my hands back upward, questing beneath the fabric of her skirt for the soft, sensitive flesh hidden within. A hiss. Better... better. I retreat, and advance, removing both skirt and panties in one smooth action and behold heaven.

I rise up to press myself, full length, against her, learning the shape of her body, the rhythm of her breath, through my own clothes. Our hearts clash through skin and fabric, and I know she is ready. Wide, blue eyes level with my own stare in rapt fascination at me. I can see the questions brimming beneath the surface of her heat. Know the answer but am unwilling to share. Not yet. Perhaps never. For now, she need know nothing but pleasure.

I kiss her deeply, urging her hips to mine with a hand at the small of her back. She seems eager to comply, though frustrated by the cloth barrier between us. Small hands wrap themselves around my ass, kneading like a cat. I smile against her lips, placing a knee between her legs, thrusting my hips against hers, keeping rhythm with my tongue in her mouth. She grows more excited, and I dine on the heady scent of pheremones. She makes a noise, a small mewl of wanting, but I am not yet ready.

Pulling back, I catch her eyes again. They are heavy and rich with the color of longing. But the shades of desire are tinted by something more... uncertainty, guilt, and no little fear. Suddenly, I realize no one has done this to her... for her in a long time. An intense feeling of pleasure washes through me, and I begin to stir. Her passion, intense in it's neglect, feeds me like the sweetest nectar.

Lifting her small frame, I carry her over to the bed. I can feel her tremble, the first tendrils of doubt weaving through her soul. There is another who should be here in my place -- I sense his ghostly presence in her mind. Someone intimately familiar, yet eternally remote. Someone who has become an intricate part of her being.

Listening to her heartbeat, drinking in her passion, I feel myself shift, slowly becoming that which she needs. Hovering over her, raining kisses across her body, I envy this man who means so much to her. This person who's absence has left a guarded emptiness near the core of her spirit, a quiet shadow upon her soul. I envy him, and I curse him for causing her pain, and I redouble my efforts in hopes she will forget him, if only for a moment.

I find the sensitive nub of pleasure nestled within the red curls of her sex and turn my attention to it. Her moans shiver through my body, pushing me toward the edge. Soon. Soon... I work faster, her taste and scent and heat feeding my own need until, for one, brief, shining moment, our desires are one.

Her sharp cry of bliss sends an electric surge through my body.

Transformation... I am man.

Rearing up, I tear my shirt away, buttons flying in odd directions from the casual force. For a moment, she stares at my bared chest, hand hesitantly splayed across the wiry muscle, eyes flickering with confirmation. Then she is working at my pants, nimble fingers pushing aside the stiff fabric to reveal the stiff flesh beneath.

She did this... unknowingly created me in her own need's image. We share a smile, as she tries to return some of the pleasure I've given. But I guide her hands away, pushing her back to the mattress again.

"Sshh... Relax. You have given yourself to me. Let me do as I will." Puzzled, she complies, laying back into the pillows, apprehension suddenly stealing into her eyes.

Thrusting aside the last of my clothes, I fall forward again, braced upon my elbows, and gently engage her in a deep kiss. I do not rush, merely take time to sooth and explore. As our tongues dance and tease, I feel her begin to relax again.

"I shall not hurt you, Dana," I whisper, tongue flicking ever so lightly into her ear. A delicate shiver courses through her body, and I feel her desire blossom again under my touch. My hands and lips dance across the smooth landscape of her body, learning its secrets, its hidden places of pleasure... how she trembles as my hands lightly skim across the soft curve of her ribs, the sensation slightly ticklish... remembering the soft sigh of her breath as my lips and teeth graze her breast... the taste of her skin.

I touch her sex again, and with a hiss, she rises to meet me. She is wet and sweet and willing. And I am ready. Poised above, I am filled with delicious longing, hers and mine own, both desires combining and wrapping about us in a haze of tight heat so intense I am sure my soul will be consumed.

Her legs wrap about my waist and suddenly, we are joined. Ah, gods of my fathers she is sweet! We cry out as one, move as one, separate but whole. I am in her... I am in heaven.

She has given herself to me, but I am no longer my own. She has the control. She has set the pace, and I follow eagerly, thrusting myself into her again and again as her hips move to meet me, sweet friction building another layer of heat over the first, doubling and redoubling the sensations building beneath my skin. I ride them, feeding on the overflow, giving back that which I cannot consume, allow the rest to wash back into her.

As the sensations crest, build to an explosive conclusion, I feel myself tighten... then... a surge of sweet release! Our voices rise as one, echoing about the large chamber, heralding our fall to the world.

We lay there, dazed but satiated, entwined and still joined, bodies slick with sweat, breath quick but slowing, waiting for the world to make sense once again.

As I feel her stir beneath me, I open my eyes to find her studying me with confused delight. One small hand reaches up and brushes my cheek, and I lean into it, kissing her palm.

"My god, what just happened?" she asks in a slightly hushed, awed voice.

Another might have scoffed at the obvious question, but I know the meaning behind the words. "You have made me whole," I answer, kissing the tip of her nose, smoothing aside a strand of hair that clings to her lips.

I feel an overwhelming desire to keep this woman. Make her mine body and soul. It wouldn't take much. A little push. A suggestion to forget all but her desire to stay with me.

But looking into her eyes, feeling the mixture of emotions just below the surface of her mind that drew me to her in the first place; strength, determination, conviction, fierce loyalty... those same qualities would be destroyed by such a compulsion.

Withdrawing from her, both body and mind, forcing myself to be satisfied with the gift she's already bestowed, I settle next to her, propping myself upon an elbow so I can still gaze into her face.

Feeling the sudden emotional distance settle between us, her bright blue eyes cloud, become shuttered with hurt.

"Sshh. No, Dana, don't," I sooth, kissing her again, wondering if it may already be too late for her. Wondering if subconsciously I have already taken away her freedom. Stroking her cheek, gazing into her eyes, I form a tentative link once more, just enough to let her know I am still there. Just enough to realize it is her own intuitive sensitivity that allowed her feel my withdrawal.

"My Cherished One," I whisper, stroking the side of her face, willing her to understand. "I am still here. Will always be here for as long as you wish. For as long as you allow."

Although her heartbeat felt as though she had just run a marathon, Dana felt strangely energized. The face still dangerously close to her own seemed a study in ecstasy. Had she done that? Did she share that look? Feeling the languid aftershocks racing through her limbs, she was certain she must come close.

Then the colorless eyes opened, and she found herself trapped within their gaze.

"My God, what just happened?" The inane question escaped her lips before she could pull it back. But Ty, hovering over her like an arch-angel come to earth, simply smiled into her with those austere eyes, warming her with their intensity and adoration.

"You have made me whole."

His dusky whisper sent shivers thrilling down her spine. Was that what had happened?

Caught in the embrace of his rapt attention, Dana's mind whirled. Their lovemaking was... incredible. Sure, it had been a while --five years if she was honest-- but... she'd never felt... never reacted so... intensely before. It was as though Ty had opened a floodgate of emotions she never knew existed and allowed the waters of her passion to flood her system until she almost drowned in the experience. He knew exactly what she desired, knew just how to touch her to make her scream. Knew... everything.

It was daunting. Frightening. Exhilarating.

Suddenly, subtly, the eyes studying her changed. Gently lifting his weight, Ty withdrew from her, both physically, and she realized with a sharp pang, emotionally. Although he stayed by her side, lithe body molded to her own, he was no longer... within her. She couldn't describe it any other way and that in and of itself frustrated her.

But more than that, his sudden distance hurt. She had given herself to him, this virtual stranger, this angel, this cold killer... and now that he had taken what he wanted, he left her...

"Sshh. No, Dana, don't,"

Dana heard the words, saw the look of concern in the colorless, cruel eyes, but could no longer believe in their sincerity.

A dull sweet ache, almost comforting in it's familiarity, settled somewhere just below her breastbone. The pain was familiar, but damnit!, it never became easier to endure. That pain had served to build walls around her soul. Entrench her in armor thick enough to hide behind while she endured the 'good old boy's club' in the Academy. Armor tough enough to hold back the more personal side of her nature so she could focus her energies on her goals. Armor which earned her the nickname of "Ice Queen".

And then Ty came along and tore aside her defenses like so much tissue paper. He had laid bare her soul, casually demonstrated the misnomer of the Bureau nickname, taken what he wished, and now was departing, leaving her crippled and exposed.

But what did she expect? Did she expect this man to suddenly expound love for her after only three days and a single coupling? Did she expect him to say he loved her? Sweet Jesus, if Mulder couldn't say it...

A feeling like cold water suddenly washed over her. Mulder. Was that what this was all about?, a rational, coolly detached part of her mind asked. A secret desire to get her partner out of her system? A desire to show him, however indirectly, that she was a woman, and had needs of her own, and couldn't wait for him forever --especially now that her forever was too short? That there were others out there who would take advantage of his disinterest and steal her away?

But she didn't want to be stolen away.

The pain below her breastbone suddenly flared at this realization, engulfing her in it's intense misery. She was a fool.

Ty's delicate kiss focused her eyes back on his own. Concern and tenderness filled their colorless depth.

"My Cherished One..."

His sweet, whispered words pierced through the walls her pain had hastily rebuilt. An elegant, long fingered hand stroked the side of her cheek and, for a moment, she felt him again, there, touching her soul, soothing aside the pain.

"I am still here. Will always be here for as long as you wish. For as long as you allow."

A part of her ached to believe. Wanted desperately for his words to be the truth. Wanted to accept the reassurance. But the pain was still too fresh, too intense. The sharp ache of tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over any minute.

Ty's cold eyes seemed to fill with the reflection of her pain. "Gods of my fathers, what have I done?" he whispered into her shoulder, pulling her close, rocking her as the quiet storm of her tears played itself out.

As her body shook with the strength of her sobs, Ty once again held her close, this time in both body and mind, his presence enveloping her as tightly as his arms, comforting, understanding, caring.

Dana didn't know how he did it... how he touched her soul so intimately. But it felt good. Right, somehow, and she was grateful. Welcomed the return of his presence, felt it's ancient strength and let it lend her courage. Slowly, wrapped within his secure embrace, she felt herself grow calm.

"Sorry," she said, pulling away slightly.

Ty's look of relief was almost comical in it's strangeness. Somehow the emotion didn't quite fit onto the androgenous face, slipping down around the edges until nothing but a sweet smile was left.

"Feel better?"

She nodded into his chest. But a single finger pulled her chin up until their lips met, then he looked into her eyes.

"I want you, Dana Katherine Scully. I want your body... want your soul." His eyes bore into her as they had during their first encounter, searing away any doubts about the sincerity of his words. "But for me to take you, to take that which I require... it would destroy you," he finished quietly, a look of infinite sadness and longing creeping into his countenance. Then a gentle smile eased aside some of the melancholy. "I will settle for that which you give freely, but do not ask me to take more."

His words puzzled her, but the feeling behind them she could understand. She was wanted. Needed. Not alone. Ty would stay with her, be there for her, not run out on her like Mulder had countless times before.

Ty rose long enough to tug a sheet over the both of them, then snuggled back against her body, wrapping her in his embrace, one hand absently smoothing her hair, the other arm cradling her head. Encompassed in his gentle embrace, Dana felt secure and safe and, finally, drifted to sleep.

I wait until she is deep in sleep before uncurling from around her warm body and slipping out of bed. Pulling on my pants, I wander to the large window dominating the southern wall of this grand open space I have come to think of as home.

But even at this distance I can still feel the tingle of her presence against my skin, the warmth of her soul in my heart. It has been too long since the last transformation had shaped me into a specific gender. Too long since being fed by something other than the darker emotions of mankind... fear, anger, lust, pain, hate.

I linger over the aftertaste of her passion. The energy is different -- just as strong, but subtle and infinitely more satisfying than my normal fare. I feel energized, renewed, invigorated. The lingering pleasure is dangerously intoxicating, and I am left despirately craving more.

Once again I am tempted to make this woman mine. To wrap her soul about mine so completely that she would forget all else to be with me. Stay with me until the last of her energy was expended satisfying my instinctive craving. The idea is seductive.

Staring at her sleeping face, seeing the inner beauty highlighted and amplified by the outer, it takes all of my will to resist. It would be wrong. Would destroy that which I crave.

That which I... love?

But...

Sigh.

She stirs, even now feeling my absence, already sensitive to my moods.

"Ty?"

"Yes, Cherished?"

"What's wrong?"

I return to the bed and kiss her lightly, smiling. It is so easy to smile for her. "Nothing, Cherished. Go back to sleep. We have much to accomplish tomorrow. You need your rest."

Blue eyes study me sleepily, then close, already submissive to my wishes. I sit on the edge of the bed, absently stroking her back, trying to be satisfied with this simple contact and nothing more. Trying to resist strengthening the bond I already feel tying her will to mine.

With a feeling akin to tearing a barbed thorn from my flesh, I gently withdraw from her soul, leaving the weakest of links as a tiny concession to instinct.

I already miss her.

Once this search is finished, once we find her partner and the information he carries --once she leaves me to return to her life-- perhaps this withdrawal will be easier. But for now, I bleed in silence, the knowledge I am doing the right thing little consolation as my soul cries out in loss.