He goes slow all the same - or tries to, at least. He just doesn't take it easy on her. Without thought, all instinct in this particular knowledge he has of Scully, Mulder draws his hips back, then pushes hard into her. Pausing there, every breath shaking, and then he pulls back again. Slow and hard, gentled only by the position, every thrust feeling like it could propel them forward if they let it.

This is home, this near-wordless communication. Squeezing her breast and slamming his hips against her slim little ass, kissing the space beneath her ear and moaning against her skin. She'll tell him if she likes it, how she wants it next, everything that'll get her over the top. She'll murmur encouragement and pant out little whining sounds when she's getting close. If she needs more, she'll drag his hand down to her clit. And all the while, he'll murmur everything she needs to know. "You're so good, Scully - fuck -"