Title: All I Can Think About 
Author: Juliette Mada 
Rating: R- just to be safe
Classification: DRR or DSR, Reyes POV or Scully POV 
Spoilers: small for 'John Doe' 
Keywords: DRR or DSR 
Summary: Little piece of what's going through Reyes 
or Scully's' mind during a certain moment in time. 
It's up to you. 
Disclaimer: They're not mine, because if they WERE 
mine, I'd be a lot nicer to them. Don't sue, I have 
nothing. Except a Blockbuster card and a sandwich. 
Author's Notes: Please remember, this is my first 
fic. I've never attempted to get inside the head of 
anyone other than myself, so if you think it should 
have stayed that way, or if you think it was the best 
idea I ever had, please send all comments to: 
doggettstoy@yahoo.com. Flames will be taken into 
account if they actually make sense. Nicer comments 
will be printed and kept in a notebook for when I'm 
feeling down 
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All I can think about is him. 

The sweat on his back as I run my hands up, down and 
around the slick, warm flesh. 

The salty, sweet smell of his sweat as bury my face 
in his hair with a particularly strong thrust. 

His small grunts that accompany each thrust. 
intensifying as he immediately and wonderfully 
complies with my screams for him to go deeper, hard, 
faster. 

His hands, large and strong, as his left runs up to 
my breast, down to my inner thigh and back again, 
pinching and squeezing lightly along the way. His 
right, as it plays on the nape of my nack and into my 
hair. 

His arms, muscled and strong, as they cradle me, 
staying in almost the same place while his hands 
meander along my body. 

His tattoo, rippling on his bicep as it flexes, a 
testament to the loyal and devoted man his is. 
Someone who would walk through fire and brimstone for 
those he cares about, and for what he belives is 
right. 

His shoulder, as I run my tongue along the sweet. 
salty flesh, I feel the muscles flexing and rippling 
as he moves his towards his release and my own. 

His voice, a low, rumbling baritone, as he moans my 
name in between grunts, telling me how good it feels 
to be inside of me. 

His heat, buried deep within mine, thrusting and 
withdrawing, faster and harder as I scream the words 
accompanied by my hips bucking up to meet his. He 
fills me completely and perfectly, as though we were 
made only for eachother's bodies. 

And as we both shudder and gasp towards our 
pinnacles, each brought on by the other, and we both 
arch into eachother with sweet, explosive release, 
with all the other thoughts and sensations filling my 
head, they all slip way except for one. The one that 
brings me the most happiness, comfort, and desire: 

That he loves me. 

~fin~