TITLE: Defining Love

AUTHOR: Radclyffe

EMAIL ADDRESS: rdclyfhall@hotmail.com

ARCHIVE: anywhere

RATING: NC-17; This story depicts graphic sexual encounters between

same-sex consenting adults.

CATEGORY: Romance

SPOILERS: none

KEYWORDS: Scully/Other(Marsh); ScullySlash SUMMARY: Marsh and Scully

explore their future.



DISCLAIMERS: All characters with the exception of Marshall Black are

borrowed with no intent to profit from CC et al.



*****



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.



"Yes."



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.*



End: Defining Love 01/01