There Was A Time
by Tbishop
tbishop27@aol.com
Rated: NC-17
Category: MSR-Smut, A/V
Summary: Scully considers who she has become.
Feedback: It will only encourage me to write more.
Flames will be forwarded to that dark part of my
writer's imagination that roams the night in
search of victims.
Disclaimer: This Mulder and Scully are mine.
Chris would never let his do such things!
Author's note: Special thanks to David for beta.
Thanks to Grasshopper for keeping the archive of
all my guilty pleasures. Because of her noble
efforts you can now find all my stories at:

xxxxxxxxxx

There was a time when I could have walked away. A
time when I could have said no. A time before our
lives became entangled in such a way as to make it
impossible for me to exist without him. A time
long ago when I was somebody else.

Sometimes I miss that person, her carefree heart
and clear conscience. Her life did not revolve
around a dark and troubled misfit of a man. She
belonged to nobody and was free to make her own
choices of how her life should be. She was alone
but not lonely.

I am lonely but not alone.

I was once strong and unafraid of life's
challenges. I didn't fear things that lurk in
shadows, wrapped in a web of lies. I was not
caught up in the madness of secret global
conspiracies and bureaucratic perfidy. I simply
believed in justice and wanted to put right the
things that I could. I wanted to solve puzzles,
find answers, uncover the truth.

Be careful what you wish for.

Being assigned to the X-Files was the beginning of
the end of Dana Scully. Meeting Fox Mulder
assured her demise. He was handsome and witty and
brilliantly smart... what a clever trap for a
young impressible woman to get caught up in. Dana
took one look at him and felt the attraction
immediately. Then he did the unforgivable, he
forced himself on her. Not physically, no.
Mulder is more of a gentleman than that. He
forced his way into her heart. His darkness then
swallowed up the light within her and she became
lost as he.

All that remains of that unfortunate young woman
is what I have become. He calls me Scully.

Now and then I think back to the time before I met
Mulder. But with each passing year it becomes
harder and harder to remember what it was like to
live unpossessed and unfettered by his tormented
soul.

I have all but forgotten who I once was and what I
wanted to be. I stopped having dreams when I
realized I was no longer in control of my life.
It's a much simpler existence that I have now. My
life has become two things... survival and a damn
quest for the all elusive TRUTH.

Nothing else is important. Least of all a lonely
heart. I've hidden my feelings for so long
sometimes I forget where to find them. They stir
in me when I feel his touch, when he pins me with
his gaze, when his sleepy voice says my name late
at night over the phone line. But when I want to
embrace those feelings, when I want to show them
to Mulder and open up my heart, they disappear
back to their secret hiding place and I am left
cold.

There was a time when I could have offered him
physical love. A time when I wasn't ashamed of my
scarred body. A time when I didn't fear the
consequences of intimacy. When I had a heart that
was light and capable of love's laughter and the
intricate dance of lovers. Instead I am left to
suffer the pangs of desire without the ability to
derive comfort for that which burns in me hotter
than the fires of hell.

I lived in fear and anticipation of a time when
Mulder would no longer be content to steal
glances, make innuendoes, find pleasure in simple
contact... the brush of a finger along my cheek,
his hand on the small of my back as we walk
together, his touch on my arm through the thin
fabric of my blouse. For I was as certain of this
as anything, I would not be able to deny him.

And now that time has come.

What will he think of me when I fall unbridled at
his first demand? I see him there in the darkness,
his face lit only by the faint light of a pale
moon as it shines through my bedroom window. He's
been watching me, waiting. God damn him for
waiting!

I am so ready for him. So hungry. I can feel the
lusty caress of his stare as his eyes roam up and
down my naked body. It's a hot night in DC and my
air conditioner quit working three days ago, I
have resorted to a well place fan on my dresser
and sleeping in the nude. I wonder what he
thought when he found me this way, spread across
the cool soft sheets, aroused by the gentle breeze
kissing my too warm skin?

And what is it that stopped him?

Did he come here tonight for some other more
chaste purpose? Is this encounter not what he
intended? Is he taken aback by what he has
inadvertently stumbled into? What is he waiting
for? Does he know what he's doing to me watching
like that?

The room is silent but for the quiet hum of the
fan. He watches.

I shift slowly my position, bending one knee
slightly to the side so the invitation is clear.
It's the most I am capable of and it's taken
nearly an hour under his steady gaze to work up
the courage to make such an bold offering.

His eyes fall upon my sex and his hand brushes
along the bulge in his jeans.

A sigh that's almost a moan escapes my lips at the
sight of him touching himself. Jesus, Mulder,
you're killing me.

I feel the pooling of hot juices at my core and I
open my legs still further so the fan's breeze can
cool the fire at my center. The chilled air on my
sensitive tissue only makes me hotter. I have
never known need like I feel at this moment. I am
so aroused all Mulder would have to do is give the
command to come and I would go over the edge
without him ever laying a hand on me.

He is still slowly rubbing the evidence of his
desire. I begin trembling as I can no longer
contain the passion within me. I want you,
Mulder. I need you to touch me. I need you to
fill me. If only I could speak those words out
loud. If only I had the courage to ask beyond
subtle movements and pleading eyes.

I begin to fantasize. To imagine the hands I long
for roaming over every inch of my body, cupping my
breasts, pinching my nipples, smoothing over my
stomach and dipping fingers into the slickened
crevice beneath the auburn thatch between my legs.
God, yes! It feels so good, so good to be touched
there. Mulder's skilled fingers work to stimulate
until I am writhing and helpless before him.

I hear a groan and my focus snaps back to reality
and the realization that I have been fulfilling my
own fantasy and Mulder is now standing at the foot
of my bed... watching.

The look on his face is of a man barely contained.
My God, he's been watching me! My eyes meet his
and I cannot continue my sin.

"Don't stop." His voice is hoarse and the effort
to restrain himself is obvious. He is looking
down at me... waiting.

This guilty pleasure I know well. You don't spend
eight years of your life in near celibacy without
becoming very skilled at self gratification. I
close my eyes and pretend I am alone. One hand
gently caresses and fondles my breasts while the
other returns to the sticky heat of my engorged
folds. I begin as I always do, slow circular
massaging of the nerves, gradually increasing
pressure... intensity... speed. Oh, God! My
other hand pinches tender erect nipples harder and
harder still, the pain transcending into a most
erotic thrill.

Soon I am lost in the ecstasy. My head rolling
from side to side, my back arching off the
mattress. I am so close... so close... I hate
this... I hate this... I hate this! "Please!" I
cry out. "Mulder, please!" And my orgasm stills
me, I slid three fingers deep inside and squeeze
as the contractions consume me.

When it is over I open my eyes and look at Mulder,
my face flush and wet with tears. He just stares
at me, unmoving, his breathing rapid.

Finally he shakes his head and backs slowly away
from the bed. I can see guilt in his eyes, mixed
with fear, and desperation.

He's leaving.

"Damn you! God damn you, Mulder!" I am ashamed
and angry and frustrated beyond all imagining.

He turns his back to me now and stands in the
doorway his head bowed low with remorse. "I
can't, Scully. I can't. I want to but I can't."

"Please..." I am shocked by the level of
indignity I have reached that I am now willing to
beg this man to make love to me.

He hesitates a moment, waivers ever so slightly,
then I see his resolve return as he stiffens.
"I'm sorry, Scully." He says and then he leaves
me alone.

A moment later I hear the outer door to my
apartment slam shut. And a minute after that the
sound of a car engine coming to life outside my
open window. I listen as he drives away. My
heart is aching. My longing unappeased. I tuck
myself around a pillow, curling up into a ball and
cry myself to sleep.


~END~



Author's note: Fellow shippers please forgive me.
I was asked to write a fic where the sex just
didn't work out between Mulder and Scully and this
is what my twisted little muse came up with.
Sorry if it depressed you. It depressed the hell
out of me. I'm going to go write something
happier now...





Life is too short to drink bad wine.