X-Files - Scully (sort of MSR?)
She brought her fingers to her mouth, tasting herself, stimulant and poison as she pictured Mulder’s fingers replacing hers. She hated it, hated her own lack of control, but she was far gone enough to believe that it was harmless. That it wouldn’t affect anything, wouldn’t affect her; she could never shake the feeling that he knew, somehow, and she hated that, too. Fingers that were no longer hers trailed back down her body, leaving a cold, wet stripe. If she was brave enough to look, she’d be able to see it glistening in the dim light from her hallway.