From: "MD1016" Date: Wednesday, May 24, 2000 1:44 PM Subject: New: Defining Slow by MD1016 Gossamer: V Rated: R Spoilers: 6th Season Keywords: MSR Summary: Sequel to Weird In A Good Way Defining Slow by MD1016 "Hey, G-woman." Scully looked up to find Mulder leaning against the archway to his kitchen, arms crossed, and an adorable smirk plastered on his face. He'd changed out of his charcoal suit in favor of a pair of well-worn Levi's and a black t-shirt. The newly found level they enjoyed in their relationship translated into a more casual wardrobe for Mulder when they were away from the office, and for Scully, it was a secret pleasure to see him so...well, almost happy. The intensity in his gaze no longer shied away when she caught him staring. Which was often now. In the week since that one momentous morning in the motel on their last case, the sexual tension between Scully and her partner had focused and magnified. "Hey, yourself." She flashed him a grin. His smile grew even larger. "You look more comfortable." "You don't. Maybe you should get out of those confining work clothes and let your hair down. I'm sure I've got a ...towel or something you can throw on." She raised an eyebrow. "You think I'd be more comfortable in nothing but a towel, Mulder?" "I think I'd be more comfortable with you in nothing but a towel," he shot back with a chuckle. "Somehow I doubt that." "You doubt me? Oh, Scully, I'm wounded." He plopped down beside her on the leather couch and picked up a haphazard stack of the correspondence that Scully had already sifted through. The side of this thigh touched hers. "Those are in order," she warned. He nodded. "So, find anything?" "Just that Mr. Hertzberg was a romantic. Most of these are love letters he mailed to his wife." Mulder looked disappointed. "Yeah?" "Yeah. And despite the terrible penmanship, he had a wonderful grasp of the language." "German." "Yeah." Mulder groaned and slouched low in the couch until his chin rested on his chest. The air of relaxation he held the moment before was gone, and the old, familiar tension once again lined his face. He chewed for a moment on his lower lip, and then stared at nothing above his dark TV. "So, we're right back where we started from. Again. I don't know where to look next." "Back to Maine?" He shrugged. "I guess. But we've already covered the areas of disappearances, the retirement home, the residents and the workers. We've canvassed that community three times, and I'm still at a loss as to how those twelve men disappeared." He kicked at the coffee table in frustration. "Hey," she said as she leaned her shoulder against his. "We haven't had very much to go on, and there's been little to no cooperation with the nursing home. It's not a surprise that the investigation is moving slowly." "Slowly indicates movement of some sort." He stared down at his blunt nails and winced a little as he asked, "Scully, what does slow mean to you?" His solemn expression and the hesitancy in his voice told her he was talking about more than the case they were on. He arched his head back and closed his eyes. "Never mind." "Mulder?" He shifted, sliding back up on the sofa, and bobbed his leg. "You smile more now. And you seem happy. And we're doing the banter thing, and we flirt. And I wonder if this is what you meant by taking it slow." "Are you waiting for me to make some kind of move, Mulder?" "I'm not - you don't have to - I don't know what we're doing. And the...not knowing is distracting." "Distracting?" "You see, the thing is, I keep thinking about how you smelled." "How I smelled?" she asked, taken aback by his sudden admission. He nodded quickly. "That morning. Last week. In the motel. When we agreed on slow. I know it's weird, but I can't seem to focus on anything for more than a few seconds, except for the way you smelled." "It's not so weird." He considered her for a moment before he continued, still somewhat hesitant. "I've been thinking that slow could mean a lot of things. Some people might consider holding hands as slow, or simple kissing, or snuggling. While others could consider anything from the waist up fair game." He shrugged casually and looked into her face. "Some people might even assume fellatio to be slow, since it's not vaginal penetration." Scully couldn't help the smirk. "Are you suggesting I go down on you as a way of taking things slowly?" "I'm asking you what your definition of slow is," he responded seriously. Scully inhaled deeply, and leaned against the back of the couch so she wouldn't have to look at him as she asked, "Do you want us to pick up the pace? Sexually?" "I...I just want to know where you stand." She dared a glance, and his gaze was firmly fixed on the wall opposite them. He was nervous, but then, so was she. "I guess I stand where I always do. Right next to you." The look in his eyes when he turned to her was layered with so many raw emotions Scully thought her heart might stop. "I keep thinking about how you smelled," he repeated in a low, controlled voice. Scully shivered the tiniest bit and a gentle smile crept over his lips. She raised an eyebrow at him. "How did I smell?" "Warm." His voice cracked. They grinned at the awkwardness of the moment, but all humor quickly melted under the heat of the tension between them that soared out of control. Scully was drawn to him, like a sailor to a siren, mesmerized, captivated. She couldn't take her eyes from him, or help the want that ached to touch him so badly the simple contact of her palm on his chest wouldn't soothe it. Skin on skin, her hand at his neck, cradling his jaw, and still it wasn't enough. His eyes lured her closer; so passionate, so very haunted, so Mulder. His mouth opened slightly, and the air in the room became too still and warm to breathe. There was a moment of uncertainty, when his exhale brushed her lips, but in the next instant she closed the gap and sealed the kiss. Smooth, warm, soft lips crushed and nipped, opened and closed. One kiss began again just as the last died away. Over and over mouths danced while needy hands gripped shoulders and tugged necks closer. She licked the center of his full lower lip, and then found his tongue there waiting for her. He drew her inside his mouth, and then plunged deep into hers. In the midst of all of this, there was a vague sensation of toppling backwards, immediately followed by a swell of raw heat and energy in her belly, and the roar of blood in her ears that blocked out everything but her own gasps for air. His weight pressed heavily on her chest and belly. And her crotch, where apparently her heart now resided. The more he pushed the stiffness of his groin into hers, the faster her throbbing pulse sped. And still, he wasn't close enough. Scully was certain that if she wasn't wearing her pants, and he wasn't in his jeans, that she'd be able to feel his heart racing, too. All she could think while she stroked her tongue languidly along his was that she wanted to feel his heart inside her. Inside her heart. "Slow," she mumbled, dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the waves of arousal that continued to wash over her as he moved, kissed, caressed. "Slow." They had agreed. But now that his lips sucked lightly at the crook of her neck she was having trouble remembering just why. "Slow?" It was his voice, but the question seemed to hang in the air as his hand explored the underside of her thigh. "Slow is good..." She wove her fingers through the short hair at the back of his head. The way his body fit against her, and the sensations of holding him so intimately while he slowly made love to her throat were revelations in physical pleasure. "So good..." Mulder pulled her knee up and bent it over his waist. The thickness of his erection surprised her as it pushed perfectly into the cradle between her legs. "So, so good," she echoed, beyond caring how stupid she might sound. Her hips began to rock in time to his. "Slow," he muttered against the underside of her jaw. "Slow," she repeated as he nipped her chin. His mouth clamped on to hers again, and his tongue eagerly plunged inside. The previously unhurried caresses gave way to hungry strokes, and as the kiss intensified, so did Scully's hip thrusts. Her hands snaked under his shirt, desperate to feel all of his smooth, soft skin at once. There was a wet pop as their mouths separated. Scully opened her eyes and looked into Mulder's. There was a starved intensity in the depths of dilated pupils that took her breath away. He shook, his lips red and swollen, sweat dotting the fine hairs at his temples. But, it was his eyes that she couldn't look away from; their hunger terrified her as much as it thrilled. "I'm starting to think slow isn't such a good idea." "Then why do you keep stopping?" she asked as she reached up to pull him back down to her lips. And that was when Mulder did the unexpected. He resisted. Oh, his eyes said yes, and the way he licked his lips said yes, but he pulled away and left her feeling cold and light and lonely. He retreated to the other end of the couch with a sigh. Scully sat up, too, but gave him a little space to breathe. She righted her top. "Mulder? What is your definition of slow?" He shook his head. Concerned, Scully inched closer. "What is it?" Never before had she seen his face turn red. "Nothing." "Mulder, come on, it's me." "Exactly. And you, as I recall, dodged the exact same question." He had a point. He took her hand, and she watched his thumb caress her knuckles. "Talking is hard for us," she said at last. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the vein that disappeared into her wrist. "That's what slow is for me, Mulder. Not forcing the words." He looked into her eyes and studied whatever it was that he found there. "We know how we feel about each other. You're here. I'm here." A sheepish grin shattered the worry lines on his brow. "And from the way you kissed me, I'm assuming that you're here because you want to be, and not because of an offer you made pool-side." "I made the offer because I wanted to be here." She reached up and smoothed the rumpled hair just above his ear. "That offer still stands, you know. All you have to do is say yes." He leaned closer, his gaze full of her mouth. "I'm rapidly approaching that point. But there's so much more that needs to be said first. Six years worth." The kiss he pressed on her lips was warm and chaste, and the hug he enveloped her with was pure comfort. "Please tell me we're not going to wait another six years," she entreated against his neck. "I think I'd explode," he muttered lightly. "But you were right. As good as you - it - you felt..." He stoked her back as he chose his words. "Slow is good. It will be very good for us, I think." "You're my best friend, Mulder." She squeezed him tight. "You know that, don't you." "I know that. You're my best friend, too." She could hear the smile in his voice, and it made her heart swell. "God, Scully. You're my best everything." End. Acknowledgment: I just want to take a moment to thank my archivist, Jen (aka.XFileLuv) for not only being a wonderful person, but for always being supportive and informative, and for the generous feedback I so graciously receive from her. And also, another huge thank you to Dia, who I met through X- Files fanficdom, and from whom I've learned so much about English and writing and language as a crafting tool. You continue to inspire me, delight me, and make me proud.