Title:  The Right Turn
Author:  Laura Saliers
Spoilers:  All Things
Keywords:  First time MSR, missing scene from "All Things"
Rating:  Are we allowed to say “For Mature Audiences Only’?  Contains adult 
situations…not recommended for those under 18…etc.
Disclaimer:  Not mine, you know the drill!
Author's Notes:  For my darling Sallie on her b-day!  Thank you for all you 
are, and all you do.  Love you, Sweetheart!
*****
It´s amazing how much just a few days can change the rest of your life.  How 
quickly I could go from skeptical to believing in something I never thought 
I would.
Fate, coincidence, whatever you wanted to call it, was something I called 
randomness—it only made sense that certain events would coincide once in 
awhile, in a pattern that seemed it had to be contrived.  But I never 
believe there were other forces at work, I only believed in the fact paths 
were bound to cross between people and events.
But what I had seen and done these last days were too specific for me, too 
many and too large, to be passed off, even by me, as a random occurrence.  
When faced with such glaring instances, how could I help but feel it was 
time to adjust my world view, to accept the possibility there was more at 
hand than what I thought?
I had so many instances of seemingly perfect clarity, moments when time 
seemed to slow down.  It was as if not only were these events designed to 
happen, but the universe, or some omnipotent force wanted me to see them for 
all they were, wanted me to take notice.
Chart mix-ups and lost paperwork occurred often in hospitals.  That was 
something I learned while still in med school, something I learned to expect 
and deal with.  I learned procedures for ensuring the effect was minimal, 
from checking paperwork carefully, to confirming what I was doing was with 
the correct patient.
These mix-ups occurred at random—busy hospitals and not enough staff were 
the norm, and these factors nearly guaranteed someone´s paperwork would end 
up in someone else´s chart upon occasion.
But for me to stop by the hospital once, and get the wrong results…the odds 
were against it.  For someone I knew to be in the hospital at that time was 
unexpected, for it to be someone I hadn´t know was even in the area was 
extraordinary.  But the fact that I not only got the wrong results, but that 
they were for someone I knew…  And even who those results were for…of all 
the people I knew in the area, for it to be someone I not only had a history 
with, but so many unresolved issues—how many seemingly random occurrences 
had to transpire for that to happen?
It was hard enough to believe, when I walked into Daniel´s room the first 
time, that multiple factors had worked to bring me there, right then.
But the circumstances surrounding my reunion with Daniel weren´t the only 
such factors I dealt with in those few days.
How unlikely was it to see the same stranger in a crowded place like 
Georgetown, more than once—two days in a row, even.  And what possessed her 
to wear that same hat and jacket both days?  It was as if her very 
decisions, from where and when to be, to what to wear, were designed to make 
me notice her.  Had she worn anything else, on either day, I wouldn´t have 
recognized her as the same person the second day I saw her.
Had time not slowed that instant at the crosswalk, I probably wouldn´t have 
given her a second thought—if I hadn´t had to slam on my brakes to avoid 
hitting her, I probably wouldn´t have noticed her.  And if I hadn´t been 
preoccupied with Daniel, I likely would have been more attentive to my 
driving.
I didn´t see the full scope of events that had to transpire to bring me to 
that temple until I had what I can only describe as a vision.
Someone had to die, their autopsy ordered at Georgetown, something about the 
case bringing it to my and Mulder´s attention.  It had to be me, and not 
Mulder, to go and get the autopsy results, results I never would have needed 
to pick up in the first place if events had gone differently and I had done 
the autopsy myself.
All of the choices in my and Daniel´s life bringing us both to DC after we 
parted ways, the turn of his health right at that time, to bring us to the 
same hospital at the same time.
And then the random paperwork mixup, that told me he was there, his 
condition and the simple shock of meeting him again that had me distracted 
enough to almost mow down a pedestrian, for that pedestrian to be 
recognizable to me the next day…
All of that had to occur, just to get me inside that temple.  It was too 
much for me to be able to consider it random.
The fact it wasn´t easily passed off as a random occurrence made it easier 
to accept what had happened inside that temple.  After all, something had 
led me there, something had arranged for these events to occur in just such 
a pattern so as to make me be there, to allow me to see, and to accept, what 
I saw.
And then there was the conversation he and I had later that night in his 
apartment.  I never meant to doze off.  I was just so comforted, merely by 
his presence, that after such a draining day, I was just lulled to sleep by 
the sound of his voice.
There was no judgment in his voice, only acceptance, as I told him all of 
the events that transpired, and he accepted so easily what had happened, as 
well as my reluctance to accept just that.
I loved the sound of his voice, especially in moments like this, when we 
were curled up on his couch, closer than was necessary—it was a full-sized 
couch, but we never treated it as such, sitting as close as we would be had 
the couch been just a loveseat.  And when we were sitting together like 
that, just talking in the dim light provided by his fish tank, his voice 
would drop, softer and lower than his usual tone, and I found it hypnotic.  
I could only imagine, and did often imagine, what it would be like to be 
held under the spell of his voice when it was soft and low like that, and 
thick with arousal.
Though I often wondered what it would be like, I also wondered if it would 
ever happen.  We danced around the issue with practiced ease, choreographing 
our steps to bring us close to the issue, but never directly to it, moving 
forward and away in a rhythm perfectly spaced so we didn´t come too close to 
the issue at the same time.
I didn´t remember dozing off, much less making a conscious decision to do 
so.  I do remember drifting on the comfort of his words and his voice, 
though it wasn´t completely clear to me what was said, and what I may have 
dreamed he said.
I didn´t have any concept of how much time had passed between when I dozed 
off and when I woke up, I only knew that at some point, he had covered me 
with the blanket he keeps on the couch, and I awoke surrounded by his scent. 
  Which confirmed my suspicion this was the blanket he drew around himself 
when he fell asleep on his couch.
And I was alone.  Despite the warmth of the blanket around me, I felt bereft 
without him beside me.
It was not an unfamiliar feeling, missing him by my side, but the fact I had 
dealt with this before, perhaps more than I would admit even to myself, 
didn´t make it any easier.
I figured he had gone into his bedroom, and rather than make a night of it 
on his couch, I decided to head home.  I had a lunch date with my mom the 
following day, and would want a shower in the morning.  I was reaching for 
my shoes when I recalled end of our conversation.  Myself asking “What if 
there was only one choice, and all the other ones were wrong?  And there 
were signs along the way to pay attention to.’  And then I could hear his 
voice in my mind, “And all the choices would then lead to this very moment.  
One wrong turn, and we wouldn´t be sitting here together.  Well, that says a 
lot.  That says a lot, a lot.’
It was a heady concept that fit right into the conversation we had had the 
previous night, although I couldn´t recall if it was something he had said 
as I was drifting off, or something from a dream; something my subconscious 
dreamed up to once again dance dangerously close to that issue.
The next move was mine to decide.  But I needed to know; had I dreamed it, 
and was he in that familiar holding pattern, waiting for me to move away so 
he could come closer?  Or was he moving toward me, both of us coming to the 
issue together, at the same time, as we had only managed to do briefly, a 
painfully few number of times?
It sounded so much like something he would say, it was hard for me to know 
if he actually said it.  But it was profound in its own right, wherever the 
thought came from.
And I could see, only too clearly, exactly what he meant.
Everything that had happened, the seemingly random consequences of minor 
coincidence combined with the choices I had made, both consciously and 
automatically, had led me to a point where I was tired from the whole thing, 
discussing it with him on his couch.  And if all of this hadn´t occurred, we 
would never have had this conversation.  Without that conversation, he may 
never have shared his theory about all choices, all paths, leading to one 
point.  And if we hadn´t had all of our history together, all of the 
feelings we had, I never would have seen the deeper meaning to his words, 
never would have seen what could very easily been construed as his 
“everything has led up to this’ declaration, his bold statement that he was 
ready to end our current dance, and move to a dance with a lot more contact.
And damn it, I slept right through it!
But maybe that, too, had happened for a reason.  Maybe I would have just 
taken the obvious slant to his words, not reading that willingness for more, 
not wanting to see it for what it was.  Maybe I needed to hear it, and have 
time for my brain to chew on it awhile, before I would be ready.
Who was I to argue with fate?  I didn´t want to, and I felt as if I had been 
holding my breath for years now, just waiting for a moment, an opportunity, 
such as this.
Deciding I was going to go along with the chance fate had presented me with 
was the easy part; it was the execution of my decision I had the problem 
with.
Perhaps if I had come to this conclusion earlier, it would have been easy to 
just slide into his arms, to drift into the next phase of our relationship 
without the difficulty of a transition, which is what I was now faced with.
Now, I had to be the one to be brave, to take a step forward, to make the 
next move.  I wasn´t able to float along with his decisions, my only choice 
made to follow along.  It was unlikely, as this was a decision I had 
essentially made years ago, I just never had the courage to act on it.
And now, I was wondering if there would ever be a better time.  Maybe I had 
been looking too hard for an opportunity I could call perfect.  But nothing 
in our lives could be considered perfect, and such an opportunity was simply 
never going to happen.  So I had to be willing to go with simply a good 
moment.
And this was.  We had seemed somehow even closer through recent months, a 
phenomenon I didn´t understand—I thought that we were as close as we could 
possibly be, within the current definition of our relationship.  Perhaps we 
were just relaxing into it more lately, finding a comfort with the situation 
that had been previously lacking.
But now, there was a closeness lacking, that we both wanted.  Finally I had 
reached a point in our relationship where I wanted it enough to finally do 
something about it.
But knowing what I wanted, what I was finally willing to admit to wanting, 
and having an opportunity in front of me to make that change, why the hell 
was I still sitting on his couch?
I stood up, stretched, wincing as my back popped softly.  As comfortable as 
I found his couch, my body wasn´t used to sleeping sitting as I had been.  I 
started to fold the blanket he had placed over me while I slept, but then 
realized I was stalling.  If I had it all worked out in my mind, if I had 
determined I was going to make this move, why was I putting it off?  If so 
many decisions and choices I had made were leading me to this very moment, 
why was I providing yet another chance for it to pass me by?
I didn´t know when everything would be this way again, didn´t know when the 
next chance I´d have would come my way.  I wanted this, this was the moment 
I had decided was right, and I wasn´t going to let it go.
I left the blanket half-folded on the couch, turned around, and walked 
toward his bedroom door, noticing for the first time it was slightly ajar.  
As I walked toward it, I couldn´t help but wonder what it meant—force of 
habit?  In case I needed something during the night, so he could hear me?  
Or in invitation?
I wasn´t sure what to do about the first, but if either of the latter were 
the case, it worked out well.  Because I did need something now, in the 
middle of the night; him.  And if the door was open in invitation, well, I 
was about to RSVP, big time.
The moonlight shone through his half-open blinds, casting a dim light over 
his bedroom as I pushed the door open and stepped through the doorway.
It was enough, for a moment, to simply watch him sleep.  To see the features 
that so often populated my dreams, relaxed in sleep.  He looked so very 
peaceful like that, that I almost hated the world that had tested him, 
hardened him, from such a very young age.  Almost hated, because without 
those conflicts endured, without the losses, without the pain he had had to 
bear, he never would have become that man I now accepted I would forever 
love above all others.
But once again, it all came back to our earlier conversation.  What if every 
decision we made led us to where we were at this very moment?  Then all of 
the trials he had endured in his life were necessary—each had brought him to 
a crossroads, a point where a decision had to be made.  And once made, that 
decision led him to me, to now, to us.
Part of me always thought the universe owed him something, owed both of us 
something, to make up on some small way for everything we had been required 
to go through.
Maybe this was payback.  Maybe, finally, we would be given something that, 
while it would never fully bring back all we had lost, could help us heal.  
Could give us hope, and strength, to sustain us.  We could do that, for each 
other, if we would only take the chance.
I was ready.
I stepped almost silently toward the bed, shrugging out of my blazer as I 
walked toward him.  I looked around, at a loss for where to put it, knowing 
I would be wearing the same clothes home in the morning.
I settled for a chair in the corner, perhaps a couple of feet from the 
corner of the bed, and draped my jacket across the seat.  My sweater joined 
my jacket moments later, followed quickly by my skirt, nylons, bra, and 
underwear.
I watched him sleep for a moment, looking for any sign I had disturbed his 
sleep when I came in.  And then I wondered what it mattered; I would be 
waking him up shortly anyhow.  That thought brought a smile to my face, as I 
walked around the bed, tiptoeing softly.  As sure as I was that I was doing 
the right thing, I didn´t know what I would say, were he to wake up and see 
me standing naked beside his bed.  Of course, I didn´t know what I would say 
when he woke up to find me naked in his bed, I just hoped something would 
come to me in that moment.
He didn´t show any signs of waking as I pulled back the sheet and blanket, 
sliding slowly into bed beside him.  I lay there for a moment, staring at 
the ceiling, listening intently for any sound that would tell me he was 
waking up.
“What took you so long?’ he whispered.
I jumped, not having noticed a change in his breathing, not having seen or 
heard any sign he was awake.
He propped himself up on an elbow on his side to face me, as I struggled to 
come up with an answer.
I wasn´t sure if he was referring to the years we had been partnered 
together, or if he meant just tonight.  I decided to answer both questions.  
“I had a lot to think about,’ I told him.  “And it took time to get my 
courage up.’
“And yet you´re still over there,’ he said slowly.
“I can´t believe I made it this far,’ I said honestly.
He moved closer to me, until only mere inches separated my body from his.  
My breath caught in my chest as my body registered his proximity, as my 
brain became to understand the implications of his movement toward me.  My 
heart began to race as I finally realized this may actually happen.
Even actions I considered brave, the steps I had taken to get us as close as 
I had, hadn´t seemed as real as his movement toward me now made everything.
“Tell me now if this doesn´t mean what I think it does,’ he whispered.  
“Tell me now if you don´t want the same things I want.’
I wondered, briefly, why he was asking.  I knew what I wanted, and I also 
understood what he wanted.  How could he doubt what I wanted?  But I 
realized that I didn´t communicate my desires very well where he was 
concerned.  I didn´t communicate a lot of things very well where he was 
concerned.  I had never really allowed him to know, certainly not 
definitively, that I wanted him.
I wanted to tell him just how much I wanted him, how much I loved him.  My 
heart was nearly bursting to share the secret I had kept for so long.  And 
it was a closely guarded secret.  More secret, perhaps, than those truths 
Mulder was convinced the government hid from us.  For as guarded as those 
secrets were, there were multiple people, no matter how few, who knew them, 
while the secret I kept locked in my heart had never been uttered to another 
single living soul.  So secret was my love, my desire for him, I had managed 
to hide it from myself, for awhile.
But now that it was safe to speak of such things, it seemed I didn´t know 
how.  I had spent so long fighting to keep that secret, struggling to keep 
such words from being uttered, that I didn´t now how to drop my carefully 
erected walls, wasn´t sure how to make it through my own defenses.
What words were powerful enough to erase so many years of denial and doubt, 
so mane years wasted?  Only one sentence seemed strong enough, but I didn´t 
know that I had the courage yet to speak it.
And so I kissed him, hoping to tell him everything I couldn´t yet say.  I 
leaned over, one hand on the back of his neck to pull him toward me, and met 
his lips with my own.
All of my doubts and fears fled in that instant of first contact, and any 
reservation I had about his theory about all choices in life leading to this 
moment became unfounded.  I believed in his theory, or at the very least, I 
believed that in his arms was exactly where I belonged in that moment.  I 
had nowhere else I needed to be, nowhere else I wanted to be, and the 
sensation that this was the only place for me intensified as I flet him 
moves his arms around me, pulling me into the warmth of his embrace.
My awareness of everything increased, and time seemed to slow again  I was 
grateful for the illumination this slowing provided—I didn´t want to miss a 
single moment.  I knew this wasn´t going to be a one-night stand; maybe at 
the beginning that would have been enough, but not now.  We were both in too 
deep to be satisfied with anything less than forever.  But we would only 
have this first time once.  This time, everything was miraculous and new.  
Never mind I couldn´t imagine a time when I would be used to being with him, 
a time when the awe, the power, and the passion would be diminished.
But in this first time together, I wanted to be aware of everything, wanted 
to memorize every detail.
My vision blurred as sensation warred with conscious thought,  the sensory 
input winning over as he ran his tongue gently along my lips, asking almost 
shyly for permission to enter.
It seemed as if I had only been waiting for him to ask, though the answer 
would have been the same, even years ago.  I opened to him willingly, even 
eagerly, gasping at the sensation as his tongue met mine.  I marveled at the 
sensations his kiss was causing, nearly dizzy with it.
It was more than the fact I hadn´t kissed a man in more years than I cared 
to think about; no one else could have made it like this.  Even if he hadn´t 
been the best kisser I had ever had the pleasure to press my lips to, it 
still would have been the best kiss I could have ever imagined.  The fact 
that this was him, that fact that my emotions were as involved as my body in 
my response to him, made this kiss something almost impossible to describe.
His lips were unbelievably soft as they pressed, molded to mine, his kiss 
both tender and hungry all at the same time.  Languid and demanding by 
turns, somehow almost too much, while it was certainly never enough.  I felt 
possessed, and I felt free, and I couldn´t decide if I should laugh or cry 
with the sheer joy of it all.
I didn´t realize how close I was to doing just that until he ended the kiss, 
staring down at me from a mere few inches away, his grin matching mine as we 
struggled to regain the breath we had sacrificed for a very worthy cause.
His smile faltered briefly, as he used the pad of his thumb to catch a tear 
I didn´t even know had formed, much less fallen.
“Scully?’ he questioned slowly, concern evident in a voice so full of 
arousal I could barely recognize it as his, a voice I might have doubted as 
being his, had I not seen him speak.
The husky tone of his voice was something I had long imagined, but once 
again, my imagination fell far short of the reality.
As much as I wanted to move slowly, to savor and memorize every moment, my 
body was crying out to find out in what other areas my imagination had 
fallen woefully short.
I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything, and I knew somehow that 
so much of the pain we had suffered could be healed in each other´s arms.
“Mulder.’  I answered his statement of my name with my own vocalization of 
his, and just as I had hardly recognized his voice, I was startled at the 
way my own sounded.  My voice was full of much of the same things his had 
been—want, need, wonder, awe, joy.  And knowing it was merely a kiss that 
brought out long-dormant emotions such as these, I wanted more.
I moved until I erased that small bit of space between us, fitting my body 
against his.  I gasped in shock as I felt just how well we fit together.  
How hard planes molded to soft curves, the way his arms moved to envelope 
me, as I moved my arms around his waist, not just to help me keep my 
balance, but to keep me pressed close against him as I pulled him over me, 
wanted to feel the weight of him above me, wanting to press every part of me 
closer to every part of him.
If he was startled, or surprised by my action, I couldn´t see it through the 
haze of pleasure that blurred my vision as he settled into my body in a hot 
line, chest to abdomen, to where he lie within the cradle of my hips.
As much as I wanted to notice every detail, memorize every step of this 
momentous journey, I was lost when he kissed me again.  Lost in the 
sensation of being surrounded by him, his delicious weight pressing me into 
the bed.
I was losing time.  I didn´t remember the kiss ending, but suddenly I was 
aware of his mouth on my breast, my nipple being pulled into his mouth, a 
sensation so strong it had me arching my back, moaning.  I knew that time 
was missing, because he didn´t just suddenly appear there, the way it seemed 
in my pleasure-addled brain.  I could feel, in the form of hot, tingling 
points, the path he had taken to get there—across my jawline, behind my ear. 
  Over my collarbone, and lower.  Lower, to where he now seemed perfectly 
happy to be.  His hand moved to cup my other breast, to roll my nipple 
between his fingers, matching the pleasure his mouth was creating on my 
other breast.
And my time loss continued.  Floating on the bliss of those sensations, my 
eyes flew open when I realized he had stopped.  But once again, my body held 
the memory of the path he had taken.  This time down to trace my ribs, probe 
my navel, and again, lower.
“Mulder!’ my voice was a breathy cry as I realized his intent only as his 
tongue found me.  Found me hot, wet and ready, before his tongue circled my 
already throbbing clit, pleasure burning through my veins as my heart rate 
increased again.
I could feel my muscles clenching over my entire body, and knew I was 
nearing that precipice.  There was no missing time this time, I was just 
that aroused, that quickly.  And I wanted him with me, this all-important 
first time.
“Mulder,’ I said, wondering when my vocabulary had been reduced to simply 
his name.  Seemed all I needed, at the moment.
He looked up, but didn´t stop the motion of his tongue over me.  Seeing his 
eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, while his tongue worked complicated patterns 
over me, igniting devastating fires of pleasure in me, was almost enough to 
send me over the edge.
“Mulder,’ I repeated, my voice pleading.
He seemed to understand, and after one last long, delicious run of his 
tongue over me, he moved back up to cover me, kissing me and sharing my 
taste with me.
When he settled back over me, fitting his body fully along mine, I noticed 
he had removed his boxers somewhere along the line, and I couldn´t remember 
when that had happened.  I certainly didn´t mind that they were gone, I was 
just sorry I missed the…grand unveiling, so to speak.
I could feel him pressed against me, hard, hot and waiting.  I moved beneath 
him, wanting more of that contact, causing him to rock against me. Pressing 
him intimately to me.
The motion was erotic, arousing, the sensation magnified not only the fact 
that this was him, but by the simple fact that it had been so long since 
anyone had touched me this way.  Add to that fact this was him, and it 
wasn´t such a mystery why the sensations were so intense.
I gasped, unable to keep inside my response to what he was doing to me, his 
actions at that point completely inadvertent.
He kissed me then, the motion seeming to have increased his need as well, to 
the point his need manifested as being as acute as mine.
I met his kiss eagerly, needing nothing more in that second than his taste, 
though my body craved so much more I wanted so much in that moment but the 
taste of him was enough, or nearly so.
I lifted my hips to meet his as he began to thrust against me, no 
penetration, not yet, but the friction of the contact was divine, and I met 
his easy rhythm with a counterpoint of my own, kissing him the whole time.  
The last functioning part of my brain wondered how it could possibly be like 
this, how it could possibly be this good.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a lone synapse fired, making me suddenly 
aware things were about to get a whole lot better.  That other part, the one 
capable of at least some rational thought, wondered if I would be able to 
survive anything better than this.
He tilted his hips, causing the angle of his contact with me to change.  
Only a slight change, but enough to make a dramatic difference.
I had the presence of mind to realize what was about to happen mere seconds 
before it did.  He moved against me, his pubic bone over my clit once, 
twice, and I fell apart.
I knew nothing beyond the feel of him against me and the pleasure coursing 
through my veins in hot rivers.  I cried out, unable to contain it all 
inside me as that dam broke and sensation poured over me.  My back arched 
against the staggering sensations, seemingly every muscle in my body 
clenching simultaneously.  My fingers gripped into his shoulders as I needed 
something to connect me to this plane of existence, when I felt myself 
flying, falling, soaring, all at the same time.
I felt my body relaxing little by little, though I still didn´t feel as if I 
had fully returned to my body.  I felt like a feather floating to the 
ground, drifting softly to and fro, only slowly drifting toward my 
destination.
Even when I felt I had returned, that my body was once again my own, not 
merely something I was observing from some immeasurable distance, I still 
wasn´t sure if I could actually control that body.  My arms and legs felt 
too heavy to move, and anything beyond those simple movements seemed to 
large a task to even contemplate attempting at that point.
I felt the butterfly-light sensation of him kissing his way across my face, 
over cheekbones and nose, down to my earlobe and the sensitive spot just 
below, back up to cross my eyelids, over my forehead.
I managed a smile, though it felt like a weak imitation to me, as if it was 
incomplete, the total expression still more than perhaps I could handle.  I 
tried to expand that small smile, tried to show him with my expression what 
I was feeling, but the attempt fell short of my goal.  And the smile I was 
able to maintain didn´t do justice to the euphoria I was feeling.
“God, Mulder,’ was all I was able to speak, about a full minute later.  My 
voice was hoarse and breathy, sounding nothing like my own.
He leaned up on one elbow from where he had laid down beside me, propping 
himself up to meet my gaze.
“I can´t believe how incredibly beautiful you are,’ he whispered, his voice 
full of awe.
He leaned in and kissed me gently, seemingly aware of the fact I possessed 
very little strength at the moment.
The kiss was nearly chaste in comparison to what I had just experienced, yet 
sensual at the very same time.  It seemed my entire body was hypersensitive, 
like my every nerve was now tuned solely to him.
Had I been able to muster the energy to care, I might have been embarrassed 
at how quickly he brought me to release, how little stimulation it had taken 
for me to be shattering around him.
But there was very little I had found to be embarrassed with him anymore.  
He knew so much about me, knew me so well, there was nothing left for me to 
be embarrassed about.
And our intimacy was no different.  In part, it had been so easy for me to 
reach a climax because he knew me so well.  After all, it was true that a 
woman´s main sex organ was her brain, and he had been stimulating that for 
years.
For once, the double-standard went in my favor.  There really isn´t such a 
thing as coming too soon for a woman.  A benefit of the design of our 
anatomy—it took little to no time for our bodies to recover.
As he deepened the kiss, I could feel my body responding to his touch anew, 
my arousal creeping back into the red again, when my breathing had yet to 
stabilize from my first orgasm.
I moaned upon realizing this, as my brain began to comprehend the fact 
things had only barely begun, and the possibilities inherent in that 
realization began running through my mind.
Sex had never been something I had felt as acutely as I was now, had been 
something I had wanted occasionally, but had never before craved.  Hell, I 
had never before craved anything, the way I was craving him.
I reached between us, cupping him in my hands, feeling his struggle for 
control in the tightening of his muscles.  I felt his need then, a powerful 
force I wasn´t sure how he was managing to control.
I guided him to my entrance, gasping at the sensations as he thrust gently, 
entering me almost painfully slowly.  I wondered again at his control, at 
his patience as he moved slowly, giving me time to adapt to his size, at his 
awareness of just how long it had been since I had been with anyone.
There was a moment of pain that widened my eyes, had me biting my lower lip, 
but that quick dart of discomfort was gone almost as quickly as it had come, 
replaced by a delicious warmth as he became fully sheathed inside me.  I 
moaned, this time with the euphoric joy of having him, at last, inside me.
But he didn´t miss that flash of pain across my face, and he froze.  “Are 
you alright?’ he asked, his passion seeming forgotten for the moment.
I nodded, smiling.  “I´m fine.’  I shook my head.  No, that´s not what I 
wanted to say.  Not in this moment.  Even if it was true, I wasn´t going to 
go with my patented response to everything, especially when that response 
had been less than the truth on too many occasions.  “I´m wonderful,’ I 
amended, and with that, my smile was reflected in his own.
“I love you,’ I whispered, finally able to speak those words.  Finally able 
to give voice to the feeling that had lived inside me for so long it was an 
integral part of who I was.
I had said the words before, but realized that until him, I never truly 
understood what it meant.  Now, I knew.  Now, in his arms, in his bed, I 
knew what love truly was.  The power that love, when shared, held.
I tilted my hips, wrapping my legs high around his waist, causing him to 
slide deeper inside of me, and we groaned in unison at the sensation.
He buried his face in my neck, taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss 
behind my ear, leaning back up to meet my eyes again.  “I love you, too,’ he 
whispered, just before he kissed me.
Everything else faded away as he began to move then, and I returned his kiss 
as I met each of his slow, gentle thrusts.  We found a rhythm, and I kept my 
mouth on his as our passion built, until hunger overtook us, and it was 
nearly too much.
And then I watched him, our eyes locked as the rhythm changed, sped up.  
Sweat dotted his brow as his motions became erratic, and I knew he was 
close.  I kissed his jaw, whispered again “I love you’ into his ear, before 
capturing the sensitive lobe between my teeth, as his orgasm overtook him.  
I watched his face in that moment, finding the most enthralling sight I had 
ever seen.  His eyes slammed shut against the power of his release, my name 
falling from his lips on a groan as he came inside me.
He opened his eyes slowly as he moved to lie beside me, and I turned with 
him, not wanting to lose the feeling of him within me.  I lay my head 
against his chest, listening to his heart, beating strong beneath my ear.  I 
realized that rhythm was echoed in my own body, our hearts beating in 
unison.
“Our hearts are beating at the same time,’ I whispered, sharing my 
observation with him.  Once more, I hardly recognized my voice.  I was 
relaxed, happy, satisfied, and couldn´t remember a time I was more 
comfortable.
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.  “My heart has been beating with 
yours for years,’ he whispered back.
I smiled against his chest, moments before I drifted off to sleep, feeling 
his arms come around me to hold me close.
***
I didn´t want to leave him the next morning.  I didn´t want to leave the 
warmth of his arms as he held me close, the safe cocoon of his bed, 
surrounded by the scent of us.  I didn´t doubt the choice I had made, didn´t 
for a moment think we shouldn´t have done the things we did.
But I was overwhelmed, with everything that had happened over the last 
couple of days.  Overwhelmed with the realizations I had come to, the 
epiphanies my brain was still struggling to come up with logical 
explanations for.  And I was still reeling from the passion, the power, and 
love we had just discovered.
I simply needed time to clear my mind.  To let everything absorb, process.  
So I climbed carefully out of bed, cautious not to wake him.  I grabbed my 
clothes from where I had piled them the night before, taking them into the 
bathroom off his bedroom.  I dressed, not bothering to close the door.
Part of me hoped he would wake, see me dressing, and call me back to bed.  I 
knew if that was to happen, I would never make it to lunch with my mother.
I was so used to being alone, and I knew that last night would change that.  
I wasn´t alone anymore, I wasn´t going to be by myself much.  And while I 
didn´t mourn that, given what would replace it, I did need time to adjust.  
Just a couple hours, and I would come back.
I felt high on love, on memories of the night before.  Perhaps that´s why I 
did something rather out of character.  I pulled my lipstick from my jacket 
pocket, smiling to myself as I told myself I didn´t much like the color 
anyway, and used it to leave a note, right on his mirror.
I couldn´t know what choices made had led me here, but every one of them, 
every one that mattered, I finally felt sure they were the right ones.  I 
gave him one last, long look before I left his bedroom.  I turned around, 
looking back into the room, seeing into his bathroom, to my note left on the 
mirror.
“Back this afternoon.  I made the right turn.  Love you.’
***
END