The More Loving One

"If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me."
--- WH Auden

I'm alone in the bed. No warm body plastered to my back, no knee pushing between my thighs, no arm crushing my breasts. I pretend for a while that I'm really grateful for that, but I give up quickly. Truth is, I love to wake up with one of them with me. That stupid, sentimental, feminine need to see the face of her man first thing in the morning. To feel the swipe of Mulder's thumb along my lower lip or Alex's mouth tracing the curve of my jaw.

I sit on the bed. Not good. I have a sudden attack of sharp, early morning, post-coital anxiety. Shouldn't I be basking in the afterglow instead?

I don't know why I always go all moody after good sex. The complete opposite of Mulder. He broods before and I brood after. Alex is the only one who doesn't waste time for full-of-angst-and- splitting-the-hair-in-four thinking. 'Sentimental crap', he calls it. He doesn't like to talk about his feelings, he prefers to show them.

Memories of the last night make me instantly wet inside. Damn. What's the point of having two lovers when you don't have any of them beside you when you awake horny and ready for some horizontal activities.

But wait. I think I fell the unmistakable scent of the freshly brewed coffee and crispy toast from the kitchen. And that means only one thing. Alex is making breakfast.

I pad to the kitchen, taking on the way one of Mulder's elegant white shirts from the closet. It reaches halfway down my thighs and I roll up the sleeves to my elbows. It feels so nice against my naked skin. Very good quality like everything my partner owns. Including Alex whose beauty is beyond description and who's owned as surely as if he was wearing the tattoo "Property of Fox Mulder" on his forehead. Funny thing is he doesn't mind. Our tough-as-nails ex-spy and ex-assassin with his I-don't-give-a-toss-about-anyone attitude. He wants to be owned, he wants to belong to someone. No, not someone, I correct myself. Mulder.

And how could I not understand the desire to belong to Mulder. Beautiful, complicated, stubborn Mulder who makes you all tingly inside with just one touch.

I know Alex loves me. He showed it, he proved it more times than I can count. But if I'd ask him to bring me the a star down from the sky he'd say 'Good one, Dana.' Or maybe he wouldn't even bother to answer, he would only cast me polite, amused look. But if Mulder would throw in casually one day 'I want the a star from the sky.' Alex would say 'Sure, Fox. Which one?'

Only Mulder can bring out this kind of devotion in people. This irresistible urge to follow him wherever he chooses to lead you and to fulfill his every wish even if something deep inside you screams 'It's crazy, it's stupid, it's dangerous. Stop now.'

Am I not the best example to prove this theory?

I check myself in the mirror before entering the kitchen. Yep, I look good, eminently fuckable. Hair a bit tousled, falling on the wide and lustful eyes, moist lips and mostly unbuttoned shirt showing my breasts. I want Alex to pounce on me the moment he sees me and then fuck me hard and fast on Mulder's kitchen table.

I stare at my reflection. Not a sign of shame, no blush. Excitement and hunger is all I see. 'Dana Katherine Scully, you're a slut' I tell my twin in the mirror, my finger outlining the contours of my face on the glass.

'You're so beautiful...' he said the first time he saw me naked. I blushed then, under his intense gaze, involuntarily trying to cover myself. 'No' he said stopping my hand. 'Let me see you.' His hot, mesmerizing eyes captured mine and I knew I was lost.

It's easy to fall in love with Mulder. With his dazzling personality, his quicksilver intelligence, his beauty. One look of those eyes the color of dark honey, one lazy smile on his lips and WHAM! You're caught even before you know what hit you. He makes your temperature rise, higher, higher, burning through to your soul. He makes your blood move quickly and takes up permanent residence in your heart and your mind before you have a chance to think. And after... Well, after, saying 'no' isn't an option anymore.

Aaaaa... I'm brooding again. Alex, I need you.

I literally run into the kitchen and jump on Alex's lap, facing him, before he has a chance to notice me. My lips crush his in a deep, deep kiss. His first reaction is a slightly suppressed yelp, but he recovers very quickly and kisses me back with equal passion.

He nuzzles my neck and inhales deeply, his face rubbing against the shirt. I know what he feels and why the scent is driving him mad. We smell alike, of Mulder's soap and Mulder's shampoo and Mulder's aftershave and Mulder's sunflower seeds. The owner of all these things is not here at the moment and yet he is.

He is the link between us, the very reason for us being here together in a sunny kitchen on a Saturday morning, kissing, touching and loving.

I press closer to Alex, feeling his hardening organ against my sex. He's half naked, wearing only jeans with the top button undone and I delight in touching his silky skin with the tips of my fingers. Running them lightly, slowly on his back and arms. Like a blind, reading a story of his life from his scars. A few of them are signed with Mulder's name, I know. This thin, small one high on his shoulder, a memento from Hong-Kong. Long, torn, white lines on his left arm. Tunguska.

I remember the night when he told me about it. Choking on words, his husky whisper barely audible in the dark room. Mulder was sleeping soundly on my other side with his hand on my abdomen, fingers touching the curly hairs below. Alex's voice in my ear telling a story of suffering, longing and unrequited love. I remember thinking that my life couldn't be more bizarre. Here I was, a proper, catholic girl laying naked in sheets rumpled from hot, violent sex with the two most important men in my life. And I was torn between desire to hit them both real hard for all the pain they inflicted on each other, and desire to give them all my love so they could forget about that pain.

'Saint Scully', that's how Alex calls me, when he wants to be sarcastic. The peacemaker, that's my partner's word and he can make it sound as a virtue as well as a fault, depending on his mood. I'd say stupid, sentimental, hopeless and most of all fatally in love.

"Dana..."

I'm brought back to reality with a loud swish, as if someone kicked me out from another dimension straight on Alex's lap.

Alex looks at me ducking his head and sighs with exaggerated resignation.

"I'll never understand why you two think so much in the least suitable moments. If I had someone's hands here..."

His hands slip down to my buttocks.

"...doing this..."

He starts caressing me with light touches.

"...the only thing on my mind would be something like: ohhhhhhhh... gooooood...more..."

He parodies my cries of passion and I have to smile.

"But you...No, you have to think...All the time."

He kisses me again, one hand rubbing my back, the other one torturing my left nipple, until I gasp in his mouth, pain melting with pleasure in one, overwhelming feeling.

His hand leaves my breast and I rub shamelessly against his chest wanting to prolong the wonderful sensation. And then I fell his fingers slipping lower, finding my clit and...

Ohhhhhh... Soooo good.... More....

"More..." I whimper when Alex withdraws his fingers. I wriggle in his lap trying to rub myself against the stiff cock straining in his jeans.

"And I thought I was losing my touch." Alex laughs and pinches my tender left nipple.

Never, lover, I want to say, but Alex's fingers are between my legs again and words somehow can't find their way from my mind to my mouth. His finger pushes into me and there's nothing left in my head, only that single word. More, more... Moremoremoremore...

I hear the sound of a zipper and hard flesh bounces against my thigh. He guides it in my wet opening and plunges all the way in with one hard shove.

Ohhhhhh... Alex....Oh God... So... good...sooooooo....goooooood...More... more... Alex...Aleeeee....

"ALEX!" I scream when I come, orgasm spreading through my body like a warm, violent wave.

His hard cock still moves in me, his breath comes in short gasps. I kiss him hard, just the way I like, biting his lower lip and that pushes him over the edge.

"Dana...", he whispers. "Dana..."

His muscles tense under my fingers and he comes, deep in me, his seed filling my sterile, inner channel.

I lean heavily against him, my head on his shoulder. He strokes my hair and then embraces me tightly. And there is not a thought in my head, only the familiar pleasant feeling of satiety and safety.

I'm feeling sleepy again and I think I actually get drowsy on Alex's lap.

"Look at you two, how cozy..." I hear suddenly.

The sun of our universe is leaning against the doorframe. My eyes take in his sweaty T-shirt, his hair plastered to his forehead and the impressive bulge in his sweatpants. He breathes a bit heavily and I can bet that not his morning run is the cause of it.

"How long have you been here?" I ask although I can predict the answer. 'Voyeur' could be Mulder's middle name.

"Oh, a while." Mulder smiles coming closer.

"Good morning." He says before presenting each of us with one of his lazy, sensuous kisses.

He takes the water from the fridge, swallowing half a bottle with one gulp. He splashes a bit on his hand and wipes his face, then takes off his shirt, throwing it on the table.

And all the time my and Alex's eyes follow his every move. Sun of our universe, I told you.

Mulder gives us both a good once over, his eyes lit up with desire. I feel Alex's heart beating faster and faster under my palm. He shifts in the chair and his rapidly hardening cock nudges my thigh.

"I'm going to take a shower." Mulder announces.

Alex's heart does loud thump, thump making my fingers dance on his chest.

"Need any company?" he asks, his husky voice saturated with sex.

Mulder just smiles and disappears in the corridor. Alex turns to me.

"Dana..." he starts.

I stand and wave in the direction of the door.

"Go, go..." I say.

He leaps up from the chair, throwing off the jeans. I admire his firm buttocks and can't resist from pinching one of them.

"Hey!" he yelps and slaps my hand away. I laugh.

Mulder's head appears in the doorway.

"How long do I have to wait, hmmm?"

He makes a perfect impression of an annoyed primadonna. Alex stalks up to him like a big, graceful cat, completely at ease with his nudity. Mulder pulls him closer, stealing one deep kiss and my breath catches in my throat at the beauty of it. But before I have a chance to go all gooey and soft and sentimental, my partner raises his head and his eyes bear into mine.

"And if you keep insisting on fucking in my best shirts, Scully, I'll start charging you for a laundry."

Alex bursts out laughing. Mulder winks at me and pulls him by the hand into the bathroom.

I was wrong, you know. Mulder doesn't pretend to be an annoying primadonna. He is one. But I love him to pieces anyway.

With that optimistic thought, I pour myself a cup of coffee. There's still a pleasant, pulsing sensation between my legs and I hear moaning from the bathroom, breaking through the hum of water.

I smile, sipping my coffee. Sex for breakfast, sex for dinner, sex for supper. Mulder's favorite menu when Alex is around. And you know what? Mine too.