Title: "More Than You Know"
Pairing: Booth, Brennan
Rating: T/M
Spoilers: Finale Spoiler Theories
Chapter: 1-Shot
Summary:

May 14, 2009 - A Thursday Evening

He leaned his shoulder against the wall and watched for several minutes without saying a word.

She was up to her elbows in flour. She looked up after a second of rolling out home made noodles. "Booth, you're going to spoil it." She wiped her hands on a hand towel and walked over to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he shrugged. "You didn't have to do this, Bones."

"I want to, Booth," she smiled at him with the dish towel in her hands. "You should be resting. Your stitches-"

"Don't hurt."

She tipped her head to one side. "You're five days post-op, Booth; you should be resting. I'll bring you your dinner-home made pasta, and you will rest."

He chuckled, looking over Brennan. When was the last day he had touched her? Really touched her? Even feeling sore like he was, he couldn't keep his eyes off from her. He let his eyes linger. They traced the blouse she wore, showing the tops of her white breasts, flour sprinkling a spot where she must have scratched. A bit of flour splashed her cheek. Damn she was cute. No wonder he couldn't stop thinking of her. No matter how casual they agreed it was, he couldn't help himself. When he was in bed with her, he couldn't convince himself that it was a partners-with-benefits kind of situation. But it hurt knowing that she felt that way.

"What?" She smiled at him. Her cheeks were flushed from the boiling water over high heat.

It had been too long. He stepped closer, brushing two fingers against her cheek.

"Do I have flour-?" She looked herself over, glancing down, then back up. When her eyes flashed upward, they settled on his. He stood closer now.

He let his fingers brush over her breasts, dusting away the flour.

A simple touch, and her body shook, tingled, blushed.

"Did you want to have sex?" She asked. So matter-of-fact.

His grin melted. His hand dropped to his side, but he didn't back away. "Probably not, Bones-"

"Because we agreed to not do it again? Or perhaps you're too sore? I could be gentle if you like."

He laughed, shaking his head and stepped back some, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

"I could be on top if it puts less pressure on your-"

He pushed off from the counter. "Thanks for being in the O.R. with me, Bones."

That's when her eyes faltered, dropping to the ground for a few seconds before bobbing back up. "That's what partners are for."

"No, Bones. It's not that..." Sometimes he hated that he had to tiptoe around her, around his emotions. But just one more touch- It was a vacuum he had found himself in. Always swearing that it was the last time. At least until she could love him back or at least he could tell her how he felt. But the whole thought of ceasing their time together until something that may never come came- The whole thought was too painful. He was invading her space again, touching her cheek. Powder white flour in her hair.

The wooden rolling pin that was in her hand dropped to the floor with a clink-clink-kaclink as he reached out and untied her apron strings. He tried for a moment. He really tried to see her the way she wanted to be seen when they were together. A woman. Sexual. A body to be taken any way he wanted. Hard. Fast. In the hallway or kitchen. Living room or shower after a few drinks. For pleasure. For recreation. For fun. Because he did want her. He wanted her body. He wanted to sink into her, slide into her, feel her body ache against his. Feel her fingers dig into his back as she climaxed. So yes, if that was the way she wanted to be taken and if that was the only way he could have her, then that was how it was going to be. Just as long as he could shut off his heart.

He pulled her apron over her head, throwing it to the tile. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to feel her mouth against his, her tongue twist in his mouth. But something was special about a kiss. And she wasn't ready to give him that part of her. Their lips bounced against an invisible negative field, not touching. He kissed her cheek, her neck.

"Are you sure about this, Booth?"

He unbuttoned her top, laying kisses on the cleavage that had been tempting him all evening. Soft and slightly smelling of that perfume that drove him nuts-vanilla, orchid. Sweet, mind-numbing. Which was exactly what he needed. A numb mind. Putting his heart in a box. Shutting the lid. Hiding it in a shallow grave so he didn't hate himself for touching her, indulging in his strongest desires. His kisses on her neck and breasts were like small attacks, taking in her body, the taste, the feel. Her body limp in his hands. He took it all in as if it were his last chance. It was always his last chance. Every time he swore he'd never touch her again. Not that she didn't care. She craved him as much as he craved her. But he wanted more. At the same time, he couldn't bring his hands to stop unbuttoning her slacks and sliding them lower on her hips, threading his fingers through the lace of her thong panties, up and beneath her bra.

He loved that he could make her do something. And he hated himself for it. Getting pleasure from making her melt under his touch, moan at his movements, as he rocked his hips against hers. Dr. Brennan who was always in control was never in control when she was with him. It was a new side of her. A delicious side of her. Something he wanted more of but could never get enough.

They stumbled toward his bedroom, kicking off shoes and other garments as they made their way, half dazed, half drunk with lust and ecstasy and a strong hunger to touch and be touched.

How long could he pretend? Just as long as she could. But he needed her. Her caress. Her body, warm, soft, smooth against his. She carefully removed his tee-shirt. He kissed her neck, letting his mouth linger against the sweet untainted skin. His tongue tasted its smoothness, its softness. She lost her balance, falling to her bottom on his unmade black satin sheets. He yearned to feel her, what it felt for her to give herself to him. It was selfish, he knew this, but he also knew that this was probably as good as it gets.

And how could he complain? After all, his partner was naked, laying in his bed, cheek kissed by flour, lips untouched by him. Waiting for him. He could have her body, but he could not have her heart. But how could he complain? He would be a selfish bastard if he were to even suggest that he was unlucky. The woman he was so madly in love with was with him. For now. But she was with him all the same.

Sometimes he fought that feeling. A feeling of being a predator, or of being one of those men who he had always despised. Those men who would have sex without any connections. Those men who Brennan said, "It's just sex" when she spoke about her encounters with him. Of course he felt that way. He was that man. And to her, it was just sex.

But maybe his partner was right. Maybe it was all about anthropology and biology and all of those 'ologies. He couldn't help himself. She let him touch her. She let him make love to her. She was a drug. A drug whose legs were wrapped around him at that moment, her heavy breaths in his ear, a soft grunting when he thrust into her. She enjoyed it. He enjoyed it. But it was so divergent. He felt dirty, but pleased. He felt sorry, but wonderfully exhausted.

Their bodies worked so perfectly together. No wonder she was so addicting. She always seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed without speaking a word. Same with him; she had said on many occasions that she had never felt such satisfying and consistent orgasms than when she was with him. That was a compliment, right?

A better compliment would be for her to let him hold her after he had made love to her... let him whisper that he loved her... let him kiss her tenderly. That would be a compliment.

Every time ended a little differently, but with the same tone.

She was breathless. "You shouldn't have been so... vigorous, Booth. You could have strained yourself."

"I'm fine, Bones." He hovered over her, sweat beading between his shoulder blades, muscles bulging from the exertion. He didn't quite want to just 'roll off from her'. He wanted to stay there. Look at her. So relaxed, her hair fanning out, curling softly here and there, eyes sparkling from the exercise-gorgeous, sexy. If only he could freeze that moment.

She reached around and touched the bandaging.

He winced, sucking air through his teeth, closing his eyes.

"Sorry."

He sat up, not caring to cover himself. They were beyond that. Beyond feeling embarrassed when they were around one another. And yet she never ceased to amaze him with her beauty. He couldn't imagine being with her ever getting old.

She sat up, too, kneeling beside him and inspecting the bandage.

"Bones-"

"Just let me see, Booth."

"You deal with corpses, Bones. I can't see how you could know anything about this."

"Just let me see it."

He gritted his teeth and turned just enough for her to see.

She had to straddle one of his legs to see the bandage. "It looks terrible, Booth. I think you may have pulled a few stitches out. Does it hurt?"

Does it hurt? Does what hurt? "More than you know, Bones." His fingers itched to touch the leg that was so close... He slid his hand up her thigh. God she was soft, smooth.

She wiggled a bit under his touch. "Stop, Booth," she ordered him.

His hand wandered more. So many of their encounters had been spur of the moment. Sometimes they were drunken libidinous attacks. That happened more times than most. Sometimes they were just in such close quarters-a mobile home at a Panhandle circus, for example, or a dressing room at an ice rink, that things were bound to happen. Things that he said he wouldn't feel guilty for, but it was a natural by-product of their times together. Sex shouldn't be just about sex. And yet, there he was, going against everything he had ever stood for. So he could be with her.

He twisted her body gently, throwing her back into the sheets.

She must have been shocked by that quick movement because she didn't say a thing.

"You're beautiful, Bones." He could feel his heart thudding against his sternum as he held his body weight over her on tensed arms.

She didn't say anything. She looked afraid. Maybe she knew more about the human species than she let on. She could see it in his face and he knew it.

She silently nodded. Then looked back into his eyes. "You..." She tried to find the right question. Something that would tell her what she needed to know without insulting his pride, or hurting him. But she had wanted to ask on several occasions. But that look in his eyes-it both frightened her and emboldened her. "You made love to me, didn' t you?"

He didn't answer.

The fact that he didn't answer was scarier than if he had replied that he had been making love to her. All along, she was confident that he was on board with the sexual agreement they had. She should have known better.

She slipped beneath his arm and slid her slacks and top back on as quickly as she could.

"Bones, what are you doin'?"

"I think it's time to go, Booth. Dinner's ready, help yourself."

"You haven't eaten."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm not hungry." And left the room.

Booth tumbled out of bed, throwing on his boxers. He flew out of the bedroom, blocking the door before Brennan could leave.

"I would like to leave, Booth. You're in my way."

"Why are you leaving, Bones?"

"Because I have the right to." She looked at the door, then back at him. "Could you move, please?"

"You're pissed."

"I'm not."

"You are. And I think I know why."

"I'm not mad, Booth."

"But you're leaving."

"Because I have work to do. Please move."

They stared one another down in silence for a minute or more. Neither one relented. Neither one moved. Nobody had to say a word, all was said in their looks.

"Fine, Bones. Have it your way." He moved his hand from the door.

"Thank you." She pushed past him and into the hallway. The door shut softly behind her.

Booth stood there for a moment. His pride kept his feet from moving. Finally, he ran out into the hallway.

"Bones, what if I-?"

She froze and turned slowly to face him once again.

"What if I told you-" He noticed her body tense. Her cheeks grew hot. A sudden realization. Nothing is worse than having someone not return your love. "I'll-I'll see you Monday, Bones."

Her eyes dropped. Did she look, for that fraction of a second as if she was going to cry? She looked back up. That same look of defiance and Brennan-like confidence. "Good-night, Booth."

He watched her until her shadow disappeared on the stair well.