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!