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Defining Love 


SUMMARY: Marsh and Scully explore their future, and the definition of family. 


Something tickled her ear. She made a feeble attempt to brush it away, determined not to wake up. Then something licked the back of her neck. 

"Go away," she mumbled, burrowing her head under the pillow. Damn cat! 

There was a very low, very sexy growl coming from the cat as it continued to lick the sweet, soft skin behind her ear, just where her neck and shoulder met. She tried to hunch away from the tiny point of irritation, but began to have an extremely nice feeling somewhat south of her neck area. It occurred to her as she tried desperately to hold onto a nice dream about the island and Marsh and sunshine and the diversity of tropical fruits and their many uses that she didn't have a cat. 

Well she did, but it was more like a jungle beast - a two-legged variety - all lazy power and indolent arrogance and hungry eyes. That look alone was enough to make her want to roll over and show her tummy. She was starting to feel that way now, and damn it! It was Sunday morning at some god awful early hour she just knew it! and she was not going to wake up no matter what her damn autonomic nervous system was screaming at her! 

Something bit her shoulder. A -- small -- precise -- slow -- knowing bite that commanded her attention. It was hard to ignore the sudden streak of electricity that shot unerringly directly between her legs. The bright blue waters and white pristine sands of the island were rapidly receding to be replaced by the hot heavy winds of the sweeping savanna, deceptively calm as the hunter lay coiled within the tall waving green grasses, waiting to spring on that morning's prey. 

She wasn't going to be breakfast, damn it! 

"One more nibble and you're finished," she warned with a growl of her own. 

Another half bite, half warm soothing stroke of the tongue. A faint laugh, husky and low and so annoyingly confident she would have cursed except another charge of pleasure followed the first, and her mind seemed to get a little hazy. 

"We have to fly to Boston, remember?" came the voice that could melt her bones. 

She groaned and wrapped both arms around the pillow, pulling it completely over her head. "It's the middle of the night. I just know it." 

A familiar weight settled easily along the length of her back, a leg fitting effortlessly between her own, lean arms curling over hers, heat against her butt where Marsh's pelvis rested. Her hips lifted in response, entirely of their own volition. When Marsh rocked downward, she pushed upward, a cadence so natural she could and had done it in her sleep. Of course, she wasn't sleeping now, was she? No -- she was very much awake, despite her best efforts, because her body was not hers to command. 

Obviously. Thankfully. 

She pressed up a little harder, rotating just a bit, knowing from countless moments just like this, that it would make Marsh harder, and wetter, and just a little crazy. It seemed that it did, because the moan in her ear was a little less cocky now, and there was a hint of need seeping through. Marsh's movements became just a little bit more erratic too. She recognized that groan, and the quickening of her breath, and the faint strum of current that seemed to flow from Marsh's skin into her own. She knew just exactly what was happening in that beautiful body that was so familiar to her, and still so soul-rendingly miraculous that she lost her own breath in the wonder of it all. 

She also knew that a few more moments of this and her lover was going to let go of the last reins of control, and if she was going to be awakened at some god-awful hour for a little carnal pleasuring, she intended to get the full benefit of it! 

No matter that Marsh was cleaved to every curve of her back as if they were two beings in one body. She hadn't gone through all those grueling weeks of training at Quantico for nothing. She took a breath, bucked her hip hard, drew up one knee and levered Marsh off onto her back beside her. She rolled left as Marsh went right, and the next instant she was staring into the deepest gray eyes she had ever seen. At the moment they were all pupil, dilated large with desire and slightly frantic with need. 

"Coffee," Scully said calmly. 

"You're joking," Marsh gasped, pressing closer until their breasts and bellies and thighs touched. Her hips jerked against Scully's, a silent plea more eloquent than words. 

Scully ran a hand lightly down the center of Marsh's back, finishing with her hand cupped over Marsh's butt. She squeezed lightly, then pulled Marsh harder into her. Marsh moaned. Scully smiled. 

"You know I can't function without coffee," she continued, seemingly oblivious to Marsh's small choking groans, or the fact that Marsh had thrown one leg over Scully's thigh. "I'll even be nice and bring you a cup," she added sweetly, apparently unaffected by the moisture spreading along her leg where Marsh rocked. 

She drew her hand ever so slowly down the cleft between Marsh's buttocks, still holding her hard to her own body, biting her lip to hold back her own sigh of pleasure. The motion of their churning hips was starting a fire in her belly and the tell-tale fist of pressure was building between her legs. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and concentrated on the amazing heat that rose from Marsh's damp skin into her hands. 

"I'll be your slave forever if you just don't stop," Marsh managed, her voice nearly a sob. 

Scully laughed, pushed Marsh onto her back and leaned over her, her face kissing distance away. "I can't wait," she whispered against Marsh's lips, stroking the full curve of her lower lip with her tongue. 

Marsh reached for Scully's hand, her vision nearly gone, and drew those talented fingers to her. "I am yours," she gasped. 


Scully watched Marsh's eyes cloud and lose focus as she slipped into her. They groaned in unison, Scully barely able to keep her own eyes open as the sweet sensation of taking and giving and filling and yielding swept through her. There was no hesitation, no question, no uncertainty. She knew this woman's rhythms and her pace and the places that made her cry out from the sheer joy of it all. She held her there, poised to explode, for a dozen strokes, until Marsh's body convulsed and she begged with her eyes and pleaded with the faint flutter of the tender muscles deep inside. Then Scully slid her thumb up and over the swollen throbbing shaft of her clitoris, once, twice, and it began. 

Like the first time, every time. More powerful than any words could describe, the beauty of it burned through her mind and seared her heart with Marsh's name forever. Tears filled her eyes, and she forgot to breathe. She gathered Marsh close, and held her trembling in her arms with a fierce possessiveness that astonished her. "I am yours, too," she whispered. 

"Mmm," Marsh murmured, her face pressed to Scully's breasts. She was having trouble controlling her motor systems. She tried to raise her arm, but it failed to respond. "I think I've had a stroke." 

Scully laughed, took Marsh's hand and brought it to her breast. "Squeeze your fingers." 

Marsh complied, and Scully gasped. "I think you'll live." 

"Good," Marsh replied, her strength suddenly returning along with a surge of pure lust. She pushed Scully back against the pillows, still kneading the now taut nipple between her fingers. "I have business afoot." 

She slid down the bed and pressed her face against the inside of Scully's thigh. 

"That's not my foot," Scully murmured, arching her hips. 

"Even better," Marsh replied as she closed her eyes and allowed her senses to guide her. She inhaled her, tasted her, consumed her, and finally held onto her during the storm. Flashes of colors bright behind her eyelids, explosions of sound shaking her to the core, heat and sweat and beauty that dazzled the mind like the night sky on the Fourth of July. So much better than anything she had ever dreamed. 


Marsh lay curled beside her, absently running her hand over the smooth plane of Scully's abdomen. Scully lay with her eyes closed, her breathing not quite regular yet. 

"Tell me again what madness you have planned," Scully said at length, her voice throaty and supremely content. 

"We'll fly to Boston for brunch with my mother and grandfather," Marsh said, tracing a finger over the faint scar at the base of Scully's belly. "And then we'll fly back in the late afternoon for dinner with your family." 

Scully smiled. "So nice to have my own private pilot." 

"Dana?" Marsh said. 

Scully opened her eyes, struck by the odd mixture of reflection and question in Marsh's voice. "What, love?" 

Marsh gazed up at her, something unreadable in the depths of her eyes. "I've been thinking a lot about families, you know? Mother's Day and all that." 

Scully's heart started to pound, and a faint uneasiness curled in her chest. "Uh huh." 

"Remember we talked about children last year?" 

"I remember." 

Marsh heard the pain in her voice, and knew she could not erase it. It was not her pain to bear, only hers to ease when she could. She lowered her head, kissed Scully gently, then continued. "It's not something we have to decide right now, but I'm not getting any younger. I was thinking we should harvest my eggs soon."

 Scully thought about that. With Marsh's ovum, in vitro fertilization, and herself as the recipient surrogate, she could bear a child. Marsh's child, and her child -- their child. It was a long road to go, but since she had no ova of her own, it was the only route available to her. It wasn't the only answer for them, however. 

"It would be simpler if you were artificially inseminated, and had the child yourself," she said as calmly as she could. That was, after all, the way most couples like them did it. 

Marsh answered slowly, and quite surely, her dark eyes never wavering from Scully's. "I have never had a burning desire to be pregnant. If my clock is ticking, I don't hear it. Bearing the child is not important to me. Raising a child with you is another story altogether. Besides, I don't have time to be pregnant." 

Scully arched an eyebrow. "Oh, and _I_ do?" 

"Well, the government has nice maternity leave policies, doesn't it?" 

"Oh, sure. I can just see Skinner's face. Excuse me, sir. I need four months off to have a baby. Yes, you're right. I don't have a husband, in fact I don't even have any eggs. But I've got one hell of a potent lover!" 

Marsh grinned. "Skinner knows me. He'll believe." 

Scully merely groaned. 

"Besides," Marsh said, suddenly serious, "you're a few years younger than me. We'll freeze the eggs, and they'll be ready when, and if, we decide to expand our family unit." 

"Have you thought about the donor?" Scully asked. 

"No, have you?" Marsh responded, because she had a feeling it was a loaded question. 

"Anonymous, I guess," Scully said absently, thinking about genes, and blood, and what really makes a family. "That would be the simplest way." 

"You guess?" Marsh pressed quietly. "What else were you considering?" 

For an instant Scully looked uncertain, then she offered, "My brother Charlie?" 

Marsh let that one settle for a moment. It would mean a closer blood tie to Dana, but there were also the potential problems of Charlie making some claim on the child. She wasn't sure she wanted to deal with that. "At least you didn't suggest Bill," she muttered with relief. 

"Oh, yeah, right. Can't you just see me asking Bill for his sperm? Might as well ask him for an arm!" Scully laughed. "I was just playing with the idea because Charlie would never presume on our life, and his wife wouldn't mind. We have lots of time to think about it!" 

"What about Mulder?" Marsh asked after a moment. 

"MULDER!" Scully actually paled. 

Marsh grinned again. "He's bright and good-looking and healthy," she said. *And you trust him, and he loves you,* she didn't say. *What else is family all about?* 

Scully disentangled herself from Marsh's grasp and sat up straight in bed. She studied her lover carefully. "You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" 

"Some," Marsh admitted. 

"Is it all for me?" 

"No," Marsh said firmly, meaning it. "I love you. I intend to love you for a long, long time. Our love makes us strong, and it would make us good parents. It would be a wonderful thing to share. If it doesn't happen, I meant what I said last year. I can live on your love alone for the rest of my life." 

Scully's eyes shimmered with tears that were part love, part thanks, and part sadness. She stroked Marsh's cheek tenderly, then pointed at the clock. "I adore you for caring about what I need and thinking about these things. We have time. We'll decide soon. Now we'd better get ready or neither of our mothers are going to be pleased." 

Marsh smiled, kissed her nose, and rolled out of bed. "As you say, Dr. Scully." 

Scully watched the love of her life head for the bathroom. She admired her butt for a moment, then got up to follow with a disbelieving shake of her head. 

*Mulder. Jesus.*


DISCLAIMERS: The characters of Scully, Mulder, Skinner and others/events introduced on the X-Files are the sole property of Chris Carter etc, and are used here without permission for entertainment, not for profit.



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