Title: About Love
By: salliejohns
Category: MSR
Rating: R

Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully do not belong to
me. If they did, William, who also does not belong to me, would
still be with them. I am just borrowing them for this teensy little
story, which will obviously not earn me any money or fame. No
copyright infringement is intended.

Spoilers: "The Truth" missing scene
Location: a motel room in Roswell, NM
Summary: It's about love. . .
Feedback: I'm new to this writing thing, so if the feedback is
good, I'd love to have it; if not, well, um, please don't bother.

Author's notes: Thanks to my wonderful Beta, Shoshana, for teaching
me *everything*, to my friend Pacquin for her amazing encouragement,
friendship and unfailing support, and to *my* David for teaching me
about love that doesn't quit.

Important note: Although this header is longer than the story,
there are more notes at the story's end.

About Love
By salliejohns

Dana Katherine Scully was no prude; far from it actually. Despite
what former co-workers at the FBI might say or think, she actually
enjoyed making love. This definitely wasn't lovemaking the way she
was used to it, however.

No sooner has the door clicked shut, than she finds herself pushed
hard against the brown varnished surface. Strong hands pin each
delicate wrist above her head, her partner's much larger body flush
against her own.

Before words, the roughed velvet of his tongue swipes a trail from
the middle of her breastbone, up her throat, to just under her chin.
Softer, it would have tickled, but it is coarse, and hot, and it ties
a knot deep in the pit of her belly. His mouth on hers is hungry and
insistent.

Long, slender fingers, which once gently caressed her neck just
below her ear before unfastening tiny pearl buttons, grasp and grab
instead. There is no time for buttons; fabric is pulled and pushed
aside to lay her body bare before him. There is greedy sucking at
taut nipples as her breath hitches, and something like his name
escapes with her strangled cry.

His eyes burn as they lock on hers. "Scully."

Low and feral, deep and hoarse with desire; no, longing. Is that
*his* voice? He is asking permission to continue. Could he stop?

With his name, she grants it. "Mulder," she whispers.

Another kiss, so deep and full of passion, and she finds her hands
freed, to tangle in his hair. His need to join with her is all
encompassing. Together they rid themselves of the rest of their
clothing, before he lifts her body to mate with her there against the
door. The motel room bed is too far away, and it has been too long.

There will be time later for sweet, erotic seduction. There will be
time for slow, gentle lovemaking, still so new when they reluctantly
parted. This is not the time. This is about now, about longing,
about need. This is about an urgency to reconnect with the only
other person either of them has ever really trusted.

This is about Truth in its purest form. And it is hot, and hard,
and fast, and when together they are swept away, it is about still
being together after the storm.
  
When it is finished; when they collapse breathless and sweating onto
the floor, it is about love. Love so deep and sacred and true, that
it need not be spoken. Love that strengthens, repairs, renews.
Ultimately, it will always be about love.
Fin

More Author's notes: This little scene demanded that it be written,
despite my protests of "But I'm not a writer!" So, for several days
following the series finale, I scribbled bits and pieces onto scraps
of paper. What I came up with has been stuck in a folder since
then, but my friend Pacquin encouraged me to write it up, and then to
post it. Thanks again, Sweetheart. You rock!

E-mail me at salliejohns@comcast.net