He lays her on the bed like she's a delicate orchid— rare, exotic, so beautiful she steals his breath—as if she could break with even the gentlest of pressure, as if she could wilt from only the slightest errant touch.
They've waited months, years, a lifetime, for this night, and now that it's finally upon them, its fragility is almost too much to bear. A thousand questions, a million possibilities, all balance precariously on the thinnest, sharpest edge of a knife.
The moment expands, intensifies, comes close to consuming them with anticipation. The air between them throbs against their skin. Their longing is so profound, it's agonizing.
He hovers above her until he's reached his breaking point, until her unearthly beauty has broken him, until her quickened breaths have slithered their way through his atmosphere and are huffing hungrily against his chin.
"Scully," he breathes.
Her fingers twitch as he lowers his head, and she arches her entire body to meet him. The sensation of their lips sliding together is beyond exquisite—it is beyond amazing, beyond magnificent, beyond anything they could have ever imagined.
It is absolute, utter perfection. And it is finally, finally theirs for the taking.