TITLE:Traditions

AUTHOR: Radclyffe

EMAIL: rdclyfhall@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: slash(female), vignette

RATING: NC17

ARCHIVE/CROSSPOSTING: anywhere

SUMMARY: Seasonal frolics.



Comments welcome.



**********



"You mean you've _never_ done it?"



Marsh shook her head, looking guilty and defensive at the same time.



"Never? Not even as a kid?"  Scully tried not to sound incredulous. There 

were clearly things she didn't know about her lover. It had just never 

occurred to her to ask.



"My mother tried, a couple of times, when I was small," Marsh admitted in a 

low voice. She knew this would be a problem, but she had hoped they could 

avoid it somehow. Last year Scully had been working, and it hadn't come up.



"And what happened?" Scully asked softly. She stepped closer, oblivious to 

the visitors and staff streaming out of the double hospital doors, crowding 

by them on the stairs. She had taken the afternoon off and surprised Marsh 

as she left work after a night on call. She had no idea her innocent 

suggestion would trigger such a response.



"I cried," Marsh said, acutely embarrassed.



Scully's heart twisted. She couldn't bear the thought of her upset. "Oh, 

sweetie! Why?"



"It's like having a corpse in the living room. I just can't do it."



Scully took a breath, chose her words carefully. This was clearly a serious 

issue. "Honey, don't you think that's just a teensy bit extreme?"



Marsh looked away, scuffed the toe of her black boot along a crack in the 

sidewalk. "Maybe -- yes -- a little -- I guess."



"I mean -- millions -- no, zillions -- of people do it." Scully was trying 

really hard not to smile. She had never seen Marsh quite so uncomfortable.



"It's murder." Marsh was starting to smile now, too.



Scully laughed, took her hand. "Come on, I've got an idea."



Marsh followed obediently as Scully tugged her eagerly down the street. 

Marsh loved to see Dana so excited, so carefree. She'd do anything to keep 

that glow in her eyes and that youthful exuberance in her voice. Anything -- 

absolutely anything.



*****



"I'm not putting that thing in my Porsche," Marsh said flatly. "No way -- uh 

uh."



"It's only for a few blocks," Scully pointed out.



"No."



"We could tie it into the trunk," Scully suggested reasonably.



"It's filthy. There's mud on it," Marsh said, unable to hide her distaste.



"But it's not dead."



Marsh sighed. She couldn't argue that one.



Scully searched her pockets for her cell phone. "Mulder can probably come by 

with the bureau car."



Marsh flinched. Oh no, there was no way she was going to let Mulder in on 

this. She'd never hear the end of it. And besides, if Dana really wanted to 

do this, and it appeared that she did --



"Come on, let's pay the man," Marsh acquiesced, gracefully she hoped.



*****



Marsh walked around it warily. It sat by the windows,  tucked up cozily with 

a bright red blanket-thing around it's bottom. She sniffed.



Not too bad. Kind of nice really.



She knelt down, peered at the floor. No detritus. Not yet.



Scully approached from the kitchen, juggling two glasses of wine, a bag 

overflowing with brightly colored objects, and a battered box stuffed full 

of treasures.  She handed Marsh a glass, and knelt beside her.



"Why don't you light the fire while I sort these out," Scully suggested.



A few moments later, Marsh stood in the flickering firelight and studied the 

things that Dana had carefully arranged on the bright red blanket.  She'd 

never seen such unusual ornaments before.  "Some of these look really old," 

she observed.



"It was a tradition at our house, that every year each of us received our 

own Christmas ornament.  They add up after a while."



Marsh was touched by this small piece of Dana's history, and the sentiment 

which had prompted her to save these things all those years.  "They're 

beautiful."



Scully smiled up at her dark-haired lover, thinking how good it felt to be 

sharing this time together.  She could almost believe that they were just 

two ordinary people, celebrating an age-old holiday in quiet intimacy. For 

this evening at least, all the dark angels of her life were banished.



She picked out one of her favorites, and handed it to Marsh.  Marsh raised 

an eyebrow in question.  Scully smiled fondly.  "Anywhere."



Marsh turned to study the tree, appreciating the tight symmetry of its 

branches, and the rather proud fullness of its form.  The big root ball in 

the dark plastic container added considerable height to its compact four 

feet, and she had to stretch to reach the higher branches.  She carefully 

placed the tiny hand carved wooden sled over a fragrant green bough, and 

stepped back to observe it.  "What do you think?"  she asked seriously.



Scully sat back on her heels, studying Marsh's form in the soft glow cast by 

the burning logs, and thought she had never seen anyone so beautiful. It 

surprised her still how one moment she could be completely absorbed in some 

mundane task, and the next she would glance up to see Marsh -- really see 

her, and she would be overcome with a mixture of tenderness and desire.  

Ambushed by the realization that this unique, complicated, incredibly 

special woman was hers.



"Perfect," Scully murmured.



Marsh knew that husky tone of voice.  She grinned down at Dana, shaking her 

head slightly.  "Uh uh," she said with mock sterness.  "We have a tree to 

decorate."



Scully rose and took her hand.  "It will keep," she stated, pulling Marsh 

toward the couch.



Marsh caught Scully around the waist, and settled into the deep leather 

cushions, lowering Scully onto her lap.  She kissed Dana's neck, and nuzzled 

her earlobe playfully.  "Besides, I don't think I can do it while that thing 

is watching."



Scully brushed her lips along the edge of Marsh's jaw, one hand working 

loose the buttons on her own blouse.  She grasped Marsh's hand and slipped 

it under the shear fabric, molding Marsh's willing fingers to the contour of 

her breast.  "It may be alive, lover, but I don't think it's sentient."



Marsh felt Dana's body quiver, and all thought fled.  It was always like 

this, one second she was caught up in the demands and frustrations of 

everyday existence, and the next she was carried beyond the ordinary by the 

mere touch of Dana's hand. To be wanted by her was more exciting than 

anything Marsh had ever known. She felt in these moments that the purpose of 

her life was simply to love Dana well. The enormity of it humbled her, and 

was at the same time her greatest treasure.



She reached behind Dana's back and loosened the clasp on the light silk 

barrier, sliding her hand smoothly underneath and back to the front to 

capture the soft weight in her palm.  Her thumb brushed lightly over the 

already erect nipple as she whispered, "It's okay, I don't mind an 

audience."



"Ooooo -- ," Scully murmured as she worked her hand between them, searching 

for Marsh's belt buckle, "now there's something I didn't know.  We'll have 

to explore that some time."



With her free hand Marsh pulled at the hem of Scully's skirt, sliding the 

fabric up the length of Dana's thigh, catching her breath when she found 

bare skin. Then the thin bands of the garter belt. She moaned faintly in 

anticipation.



"Did you plan this?" Marsh whispered as her surgeon's fingers delicately 

loosed the stockings from the tiny restraints.



Scully laughed somewhere deep in her throat, almost a purr. She recalled her 

quick trip home to change before heading for the hospital. "Merely being 

prepared," she murmured, working Marsh's trousers open with equal skill.



As their hands slowly explored familiar territory made new by the 

undiminished wonder of their love, they kissed -- first lightly, teasing 

forays of tongue stroking lips, then deeper -- opening to one another, 

demanding, merging forcefully as passion flared.



Marsh reached higher, between Scully's thighs, gasping when she found no 

underwear in her path.  "God, you are so bad -- and so damn good--"



Scully lifted her hips toward the tantalizing touch, wanting to go slowly 

but knowing she couldn't. Marsh's fingers squeezing her nipple and the 

possessive thrusts of Marsh's tongue in her mouth had worked their magic. 

The pressure was there already, pounding upward from somewhere deep within, 

primitive, mindless, uncontrollable. She was swollen, throbbing, ready. 

"Show me how good I am," she urged breathlessly, her teeth raking the side 

of Marsh's neck. "Touch me."



Marsh's head was whirling with sensation. Nothing aroused her more than 

Dana's need. Dana --hot and wet with excitement, hoarse with desire, rich 

with the smell of passion. Marsh clenched her jaws and tried to ignore what 

Dana was doing inside her pants. She didn't want to be distracted, but, god, 

she needed Dana's fingers on her.



Marsh brushed lightly over the soft hair, trailing a finger along the outer 

edges of Dana's desire, coming so close, but not quite touching the one 

place she knew Dana desperately needed her to touch. Scully echoed her 

motion, and they tormented each other until they were both barely breathing, 

backs arched, chests tight with the agony of expectation. "Please," they 

begged into one another's mouths.



They found each other at the same time, wrenching twin cries of surprise and 

pleasure from their throats. They knew each other -- the rhythms, the 

pressure, the secret places -- and they played each other until they were 

whimpering, twisting against each other with the need to explode.



Scully's eyes were closed, her face pressed to Marsh's neck, her hips 

pumping frantically into Marsh's hand, incoherent pleas nearly swallowed by 

her harsh breathing. And then the distant thunder, rolling through her 

belly. "Uh huh, uh huh -- soonsoonsoon", she panted.



Marsh felt her harden, lengthen, pulse with even greater engorgement - and 

then the faint contractions coalesced into a pounding, throbbing storm of 

release that brought Dana screaming to the edge -- and beyond. As it always 

did, the wonder of it stole Marsh's soul.



As only lovers who know each other well can do, Scully continued to fondle 

Marsh even as she succumbed to the titanic force of her own pleasure, 

tugging and stroking her without conscious thought until she pulled Marsh 

into the swirling vortex with her. When it ended, they lay spent and gasping 

in one another's arms, clothing in a tangled disarray.



"Is this a Christmas tradition, too?" Marsh asked dreamily, cradling Scully 

as she gently stroked her hand along the sides of Scully's breasts.



"It is now."



Marsh sighed contentedly and gazed toward the tree. It might be cute but she 

wasn't entirely sure about it yet. "What are we going to do with that?"



"Decorate it."



Marsh snorted. "I mean _after_. It can't stay here," she said in horror.



Scully burrowed deeper into Marsh's arms, happy to never move again. "We'll 

drive it out to my mother's, or some place in the country, and plant it."



Marsh stiffened. "That is not going back in my car!"



"Uh huh," Scully murmured.



Marsh was about to launch another protest when the doorbell rang. They 

stared at one another, then began frantically rearranging limbs and 

clothing. Marsh was on her feet first, tucking in her shirt as she made for 

the door.



Scully glanced at the clock.  It was nearly midnight.  "Is it Santa Claus?"  

she called playfully, finishing the last button on her blouse. She ran her 

hands through her hair, knowing damn well she looked just-fucked. She smiled 

across the room at her lover, not caring a bit.



Marsh glanced through the peephole, and observed the uninvited guest laden 

with brightly wrapped packages and wearing a sheepish grin. She sighed, and 

pulled the door open.  "No, it's one of Santa's elves."



Scully grinned impishly at the visitor.  "Merry Christmas, Mulder.  You're 

just in time to help trim the tree."



End