He breathes out, a laugh that could as easily be mistaken for a sigh, if someone else was listening. "My name's Mulder, actually."

It's the worst joke, and he doesn't care. He'd forgotten, somehow, just how generous she could be with her praise; maybe he'd retained it as a fact in his mind, Scully loves it when you touch her, but he didn't retain what it felt like. She's holding him, already reduced to invocations, and he's hardly done anything. The pad of his thumb moves lightly over her clit, his mouth at her jaw in hopes that she might speak again. Slowly, but deliberately, he begins to stroke her.