Another thing to miss about their life here: the distance from the neighbors. No one but Mulder to hear her cry out, so she does; not just for his sake, but oh, it's good to feel him tense, the familiar way his hips jerk against her, the heat of his skin, his teeth on her lip. It feels like it lasts forever; and when he shifts aside she shifts to watch his face, a flower turning toward the sun.

She wants to keep him here forever, wants to stay; settle in the soft nest of their bed, wrap herself around him. When they're together she always feels that way, certain in her desire to be near him; it's strong enough that it can scare her, sometimes.

But she's fearless now. Full of fondness, and sated and warm. She presses a kiss to his brow, hums contentedly as she strokes his cheek.

"Still good at that," she murmurs, drowsy and love-drunk.