I Know What You Want

Author's Note: Hopefully this doesn't gross too many people out. I actually find Luther Lee Boggs rather attractive, and was interested in the chemistry between him and Scully. This is what came of that curiosity. *shrug*

The front door of Dana Scully’s apartment clicked shut quietly behind her. Mechanically she walked forward, dropping her purse unceremoniously onto the table and flipping on the lightswitch. Heels clicked against linoleum as she crossed into the kitchen and got a glass of water. She was tempted to have something stronger, but decided to wait till after a hot shower had burned away her headache, heartache, and confusion.

Her father had been dead only a few days, but Scully had thrown herself feverishly back into her work despite her partner’s protests. It was the only way she knew to keep from thinking about her father, and the tense relationship they had had. To her relief, Mulder had presented her with a seemingly cut-and-dry case: an imprisoned mass murderer was claiming psychic abilities that could lead the agents to some missing local college students – in return for his being spared the gas chamber. Scully of course didn’t believe in psychic abilities, but it surprised her that Mulder didn’t accept this story either. Luther Lee Boggs, according to Mulder, was a liar, and orchestrating the kidnapping with an outside accomplice to gain an upper hand in halting his execution. Scully had no doubt this was true, and was content to leave the interrogating to Mulder, who had dealt with Boggs before, while she assumed the role of note-taker.

Scully put her empty glass in the sink, and made her way to her bedroom down the hall. Standing before her vanity she began to undress, first kicking off her pumps and unbuttoning her blazer. She made eye contact with her reflection. It wasn’t turning out to be such a ‘cut-and-dry’ case as she had hoped. Earlier that morning she and Mulder had gone to the North Carolina State Penitentiary to meet with Luther Boggs. The agents were led into a high security interrogation room, and Boggs was brought in, heavily shackled. He was a smallish, wiry man, with a haunted, strangely burdened appearance. Scully could see a faded tattoo on his neck, and a dark stud in his ear. She looked into his sharp face; his eyes were icy blue, and when they met with hers she felt a startling and shockingly invasive jolt. She remained outwardly composed and attended to her clipboard and pen while Mulder began the interrogation.

It had been an interesting, but disappointingly non-productive visit. Boggs gave an impressive performance, streaming tears and grunting directions which he claimed were being channeled to him by spirits. Scully packed up her notes, ready to dismiss him as an energetic, and admittedly creative, fraud when she looked up at him for the briefest of seconds. Her heart stopped cold: her father was sitting hunched in Boggs’s chair, wearing Boggs’s red prison jumper and shackles. She blinked, and the vision was gone.
“Did you get my message, Starbuck?” Boggs half-sneered, a curl falling from behind his ear. Stunned, Scully had fled from the room. As Boggs was led back to his cell, she heard him faintly singing the same song that had played at her father’s funeral.

Scully touched the gold cross at her throat before righting the chain and walking to the bathroom. How could that have been a coincidence? She was prepared to accept visual hallucinations of her dead father. After all, such phenomenon was frequently documented. She grabbed a towel. But how could Luther Lee Boggs, who had been in high-security prison for the last several years, know what her father’s favorite song had been? How could he know that her father’s name for her was ‘Starbuck’? Scully desperately hoped she was imagining things as she stepped under the steaming spray of water.

She managed to wash her mind clear in the shower, but nagging thoughts returned to her as she sat curled on her sofa in silk pajamas with a g of of brandy. Luther’s clues had been right. She had found one of the captive students by following his lead after she left the prison. She took a sip of her drink and stared, unreading, at her open book. She couldn’t quite bear to admit this on the report, but when she’d confided to Mulder, they’d had a fight. The world would expect that from “Spooky” Mulder… but not her. Never from rational, scientific Dana Scully. Dana Scully who could have been a doctor. Who believed there was a logical explanation for everything, no matter how outwardly strange and unlikely appearing. But she had no logical explanation for Luther Boggs, why she followed his directions, the way he startled her at first eye contact, and later seemed to slither into her head, invading her thoughts and her private pain over the loss of her father.

She sighed out loud and closed the book; she’d been rereading the same sentence over and over, and still didn’t know what it said. She drained her glass and returned to the kitchen, placing the brandy glass alongside her earlier water glass. She was exhausted, but still wired with unease. Padding down the hall to her bedroom again, Scully attempted to breathe deeply and evenly, releasing the stress out of her muscles. She crawled into bed and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

She gradually realized she was awake. She didn’t want to be, and reluctantly opened her eyes to check the time. She jolted and gasped out loud: Luther Lee Boggs, red-jumpsuited but unshackled, was standing with his back against her bedroom door.

She lunged for her gun in her bedside table, her movements fluid but slower than they should be. The air was heavy and warm, and she realized she was dreaming. She must be dreaming. There was no possible way a death-row inmate could be in her bedroom. Even if he had escaped, she would have been notified before he was able to to her apartment all the way from North Carolina so soon. She released the handle on her nightstand.

“Why are you here, Mr. Boggs?” she spoke crisply, professionally. She may be dreaming, but this was her dream and she was going to control it, she told herself, though she had that same horrible feeling of invasion Luther had affected her with earlier.

A small smile stretched his lips, and Scully was uncomfortably aware that she was in bed, in her pajamas. “I think you know why I’m here, Dana…” His drawling voice was soft, but still cut clear through the heavy air. “We’ve got some unfinished business.” He pushed his back away from the door and began to move slowly towards the bed. He took tiny steps, as if his ankles were still shackled together. Scully sat stock-still in bed. “Get your gun!!!” a tiny portion of her brain screamed, but she couldn’t move. A small rodent hypnotized by the swaying eyes of a snake. The fabric on his legs swished slightly until he reached the foot of her bed. He stopped with his shins against the mattress, icy eyes never leaving hers.

Scully managed to speak. “You want to negotiate your sentence,” she was mortified to hear her voice waver slightly. In the soft light streaming through her window, she saw his eyebrows contract slightly, a tiny indicator of a deeper pain. Against all her better judgement, Scully felt suddenly sympathetic towards him. He looked positively remorseful, and, horrifyingly, almost beautiful in the shadows. He still held his hands as though they were handcuffed in front of him “GUN!!!!!” shrieked her brain, but instead she said, “Well, I’m sorry Luther, but we’re not going to negotiate here in my private home in the middle of the night. You’ll just have to wait until Monday when agent Mulder and I are both present.” It sounded ridiculous the second the words were out, but she didn’t know what else to do. She had a disturbing urge to climb out of bed and hug him, if only those eyes would let her go….
Luther gave her another small smile, this one more of a knowing smirk. She shivered.

“Dana…” he drawled, “that’s not what I come for tonight.” A car’s headlights flickered briefly through the wi. “I. “I come here because I know I’ve got something you want. But you won’t ask me with Mulder around. So I’m here now. So why don’t you just go ahead and ask me, hmmmm?” Luther leaned forward and put his palms on the bed. Scully couldn’t look him in the face anymore. She stared at the poorly done tattoos on his knuckles. She couldn’t read them in the dim light. She suddenly felt like a guilty child being questioned by a firm, but loving parent. She could not lie to him. There was no point; he already knew everything she was feeling anyway. She raised her head back to his gaze.

“I want to know….” Her voice sounded as small as she felt. “…how… how you know….” She gulped. “…how you know what you know.” She wanted to cry.

He looked pained again. “Oh, Dana…” he shook his head and pursed his lips, a stray curl falling forward from behind his pierced ear. His eyebrows narrowed. “I know everything that you’re feeling. Everything. I know what all souls are feeling, all the time. I know the pain and the fear they feel, in the cold and the dark.” He shuddered involuntarily and Scully’s heart lurched painfully. He bared his teeth. “I wish I didn’t know…” he raised his head and met her wide eyes. A single, silent tear was gliding down his cheek. “But I do know. And that’s what you want.” He brought one knee up to rest on the bed, followed by the other. “You want someone who understands… I know what you feel, I know the pain in your soul…” he began to crawl molasses-slow towards her. “…I know your sorrow…. because I’ve felt it a thousand times over.”

His hands went perfectly still beside her hips, his knees on either side of hers through the blankets. Scully was breathing quickly, her heart pounding. The tiny rational part of her brain had disappeared. All she could think of now was the sincerity of his words and the proximity of his body. Luther leaned forward to her left until she could feel his sharp nose in her hair and his lips to her ear. He spoke, “You know all about science and reason… you know how a man could kill a person….” Scully shivered. “But I know how a man feels when he kills someone. And I know how that person feels when he’s killed.” He brought a hand up to Scully’s chin and turned her face gently towards his. “All souls are connected,” his thumb stroked her throat gently. “You want me to show you.”

Scully nodded even though she realized it wasn’t a question. Even if she hadn’t answered, he would know. Without a thought or word, she closed the gap between their faces and pulled him into a kiss. Luther moaned into her mouth and tightened his grip just barely around her throat. Scully brought her hands up and wound them into his hair, combing through his chin-length curls as she tasted his mouth.
She was unbearably warm, trapped under her thick blankets and Luther’s legs. As if on command, Luther swung his right leg over to her left side and slid his hand from her neck to pull back her blankets. Scully helped to kick them aside, then allowed him to ease her back against her pillows, their lips never parting. Luther had his elbow propped beneath her pillow, leaning over her, his other hand caressing her throat again. He dragged his lips down to join his hand, and Scully tipped her head back, baring as much of her neck to him as possible. Scully gazed at the ceiling with half-closed eyes as Luther began to work one-handed on the buttons of her pajama top; he knew exactly what would please her. Scully gasped and tightened her grip in his hair when she felt his hand slip inside her shirt to gently knead her bare breast. He parted her pajama top and kissed his way down her collarbone to her sternum, his hand alternately cupping her breast and delicately pinching her nipple.

Scully arched her chest towards his teasing mouth, and gave a small groan of impatience. He knew where she wanted his mouth, but was purposely taking his time. Finally he returned his right leg to its place on her other side, straddling her thighs and placing both forearms behind her arching back. His slender build belied his strength, and he pulled her towards him, her skin stark white in the moonlight. Luther put his mouth to her nipple and she sucked in a shallow burst of air at the shocking heat. He suckled and nipped, swirling his tongue around one hard bud than the other.

Scully wriggled just enough to slip one shoulder out of her shirt, than the other. Luther grasped the shirt by the sleeve and tossed it to the floor, then continued his ministrations. She wanted him as bare as she was, so he left her breast and sat up a bit, beginning to unsnap his jumpsuit. Luther watched her watch his hands as inch by inch of his chest was revealed. He unbuttoned to the waist and shrugged his arms out of their sleeves, watching her eyes take in his body. Scully stared at the devil over his heart; it was grotesque, but strangely beautiful at the same time. It stood out dark and sharp in contrast to his pale skin. She reached up her small hand to touch it, fingers combing through the light hair on his chest to trace the ink. “Dana…” he murmured, and she looked away from the tattoo and back into his piercing eyes. “Don’t follow the devil… leave that to me.” She heard his voice in her head without him actually speaking. His eyes spoke to her of a darkness he was not yet revealing, and a little tremor coursed through her body. Luther took her hand from his chest and raised it up over her head, pressing his hips down a bit more until they touched Scully’s. They both gasped at the contact, and Scully bit her lip as he ground his pelvis slowly into hers. She closed her eyes and returned the gesture, tilting her hips up to his, her silk pants sliding up and down the rough cotton of his jumpsuit. She heard him release a low hiss and saw him roll his head back, and she rubbed harder against the hard bulge at his groin. Then a smirk crept over his features and Luther looked into her face, right through her. “I know what you want…” he teased, and brought his hands to the waistband of her pajama bottoms. Grasping the silk-sheathed elastic, Luther scootched back down her legs and slid her pajamas and underwear after him. Scully lifted her hips to aid him, clutching the sheets in anticipation. Luther set the clothing aside, his eyes darker than usual, then made his way back up between her legs. Her breath hitched as he parted her thighs with his hands; was he…? She’d never had a man go down on her before. Scully began to tense, but relaxed as she heard his voice in her head, soothing her, "I know what you want...." Luther stroked the smooth skin of her inner thighs up and down, then sank his head to the apex between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Oh!” Scully gasped at the first touch of his tongue against her sensitive folds. He licked her thoroughly while his hands kept caressing her thighs and belly in soft circular patterns. Scully grasped the sheets harder and she tossed her head back into the pillows, moaning softly, overwhelmed by the incredible softness and deftness of his tongue. She squinched her eyes shut tightly and cried out when Luther finally brought his hands up to gently separate her folds and kissed her engorged clitoris. Her hips bucked involuntarily as he continued to pleasure her, lapping, suckling, and sometimes thrusting his tongue as far into her as he could. She felt him stop for a second to catch his breath, then felt him slide his index finger into her slick opening and return his lips to her clit. Scully moaned louder, her breaths coming quick and shallow as Luther stroked his finger in and out rhythmically, bringing her moisture up to rub her clitoris and mingle with his saliva every occasional stroke. She sat up when he inserted another finger, stomach muscles clenching, reaching out to grasp his head. He was two steps ahead of her, relinquishing his place between her legs and lunging up to kiss her passionately. Scully could taste herself on his tongue and she whimpered into his mouth.

Luther broke thes ans and backed slowly off of the bed till he was standing slightly backlit by the window. Scully watched, splayed and breathless, as he kicked off his shoes and socks, then undid the last remaining buttons on his jumpsuit and slid the garment down along with his underwear. Then he was standing nude before her, chest rising and falling visibly, erection standing out in front of his lean body. There was a small, dark tattoo on his hip, but Scully couldn’t make out what it was. A long thin scar that looked like a knife wound ran across his thigh. Another car’s headlights flooded the room for a second, and he was momentarily silhouetted against the light. “Luther…” she thought. “I want to know….”

His expression was unreadable as he resumed his position on top of her, lowering his head slightly and breathing in, nostrils flaring, as if exerting a great amount of self-control. He carefully pressed some of his body weight on top of her; just enough that she felt his pleasing weight and warmth, the course hair on his belly causing a delightful friction against her own. They kissed again, Scully’s hands now clutching his scapulas when he brought his hand back between her legs. Luther slipped two fingers into her once again, his thumb now rubbing her clitoris while he tended to her neck with his mouth. Scully could feel his turgid erection rubbing tantalizingly against her leg, and in response she coiled her legs around his slender hips. “Now…” she thought. “Show me now…”

He obeyed immediately, removing his hand from her body and using it to guide himself to her slick folds. Luther leaned down till their chests met; Scully could feel the devil on his chest against her breasts, burning hotter than the rest of his skin. Scully reached a hand down to help him, the other hand still clutching his back, and her heart skipped at his agonized groan as he finally pushed inside.
He filled her perfectly, snug and hot and firm. Luther leaned his head down beside hers and Scully breathed into his neck. He smelled like heat and musk and sweat and sex. Luther stroked her neck and crucifix with the hand he was leaning on, and slowly rubbed her e the they were joined with his other. Scully did the same for him, stroking the bits of his shaft and scrotum she could reach and clutching the straining muscles of his back with her other hand. He moved slowly, pulling almost all the way out, so that just the swollen head of his penis stayed trapped in her tight muscles, then pushing back in to the hilt. They effortlessly established a rhythm, increasing the speed until Scully could hear the slick slapping noises of their joining grow to a frenzied pace. She could feel her orgasm coming, feel her muscles start to clench more frantically and less rhythmically. She closed her eyes tightly and saw a bright light start to swell before her. Not only did she see the light, she could feel it, and realized that it was actually infinite tiny lights swirling together. Tiny separate souls drawn together to form a complete being. For that fleeting second, she understood what could not be said.

“Oh Godddd!” Scully cried out, every muscle tensing, raising her body forcefully off the bed to jerk against Luther, who stilled at that exact same moment before shuddering into her. He tightened his grip around her throat and groaned harshly into her ear as his hips flexed wildly and he came, spilling warmth into her clenching body.

Before he had even slumped all the way on top of her, Scully felt herself begin to nod off. She wanted to stay awake and think about what she had just felt, but the air was stifling and sweltering and made her sleepy. she couldn’t stop it. She tried to speak, to keep herself awake, but her mouth only fell open slightly and her lids wouldn’t stay up and she felt Luther’s arms cradle her like darkness as she fell asleep, only to be awakened, alone and cold, by her alarm clock.