Title: Feeling the Heat

Rated: M

Summary: Booth encourages her inner child. How Two Bodies in the Lab should have been!

Disclaimer: I imagine I do, but alas I don't.

A/N: This is how I think Two Bodies in the Lab should have been. That episode had been one my of favourites to date and I love this moment of bonding that had nothing to do with work.

Booth was a man who'd learned not to take life too seriously. He amused himself with things that had no intellectual value whatsoever, and it was something she was quite unfamiliar with. Every man she'd been in a relationship with had been intelligent.

Not that Booth wasn't intelligent.

He was.

Very much so.

But he'd learnt to maintain a balance between life and work. He'd made a barrier between the FBI and everything else that surrounded him. Even now, as he stood in her living room, his body rocking manically to Foreigner, he had no qualms about the silliness of the situation, or how he might be perceived to be an idiot.

Booth didn't care. She wished she could have been more like him. It didn't matter in the slightest what she thought of him, he was going to do it anyway.

Brennan felt admiration, a smile pulling at her lips.

She followed suit, releasing the part of her personality that she suppressed. He wouldn't make fun of her or criticise her silliness. He would embrace it, encourage it. Rocking with imaginary instruments to Hot Blooded was probably the most fun she'd had in a long time. There was something so simple about the clumsy actions that made anthropology and science melt away into obscurity.

He grabbed her hand, swinging her in a complete circle, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against him in something that reminded her of a jive. A jive to a rock-song. It was ludicrous, there was no coordination, their footsteps barely matched the beat. But somehow, it didn't matter. Her head was spinning, laughter tumbling from her lips, plentiful and free, unlike ever before.

She was breathless with glee, her fingers clinging to his arm as he hefted her off the floor in the most undignified manner. She squealed, fully aware that she would never in a million years have let any other man lift her.

"And if it feels right, maybe you can stay all night…" he sang, spinning her, dipping her, encouraged by the giggles that she had no power to stop. He was grinding his hips against her, blatant in its raw sexuality, Brennan was certain no man had ever been so bold or so daring before.

She found herself grinding back, shimmying against his hips, bending back and strumming her own imaginary guitar, singing the lyrics, surprised that she knew them at all.

"Yeah I'm hot blooded, check it and see, feel the fever burning inside of me…" She said, his hands moving over her hips, clinging to her waist as they moved in wacky sync, sharing something they had in common and had never known about.

He reached for her, holding her hips, his fingers tight as she flung her arms around his neck, the gyrating between their bodies frenzied and as the song questioned if they did more than dance, Brennan was distinctly aware that they were definitely doing more than dancing now.

Booth hooked her thighs and her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. She stopped thinking about the song and their silliness when they knocked over a replica of an ancient Indian artefact, impacting the wall hard enough to take her breath away.

"Well I'm hot blooded, check it and see-"

"Bones?" She was conscious of his arousal, pressing between her thighs. She was conscious of her thudding heartbeat and how it had nothing to do with dancing to rock. She was in good physical health. A few minutes of jumping around did not effect her like this. Did not leave her gasping for breath.

"You're so hot, Bones," Booth said, breathless himself.

"Blooded?" She asked, wondering why, now that the song was finished, he hadn't released her.

"No, Bones. Just hot." Her mouth formed a wide 'O'. She wasn't entirely sure how she ought to respond to such a compliment. Booth had plenty of admirers at the Bureau. At the Attorney's Office, too, apparently. Defence Lawyers, Prosecutors and probably Judges, as well. He seemed to have that effect. Perhaps she ought to thank him.


"Yeah, and I'm going to kiss you now," he interjected. "'Cause you see-"


He was unquestionably the best kisser. He had a technique. His lips were insistent as they pressed against hers. There was a degree of urgency, a certain desperation in the way his tongue ventured into her mouth, moving across hers, pressing. Temperance heard the soft way in which he groaned, appreciating, approving.

Booth had roaming hands. With work-calloused fingers. She felt his touch wander beneath her top, around her back, his fingers splayed across her spine. His hips thrust against hers, as if by animalistic instinct. She liked the naughty thought of them being animals, doing what animals were made to do.

Foreigner's lyrics played in her mind, and she thought they were so appropriate. He made her feel hot. Literally. Her skin felt fevered, her body tingling with heat, everywhere his hands passed. Between her thighs, she felt hot, too. She felt the telltale throb of arousal, and wondered why she hadn't noticed her attraction to Booth before.

You have, her rational mind stated. Since the first damn minute you met.

"This is bad," she murmured against his mouth.

"Hmm, yeah, so bad." He was tugging at her belt, then at her sweater, she complied to his frenzied demands, assisting in the awkward task of clothing removal while pressed against the wall. His lips fell upon each patch of exposed skin, kissing, licking, tasting. She wriggled against him, her legs hooked, crushing as much of his body against her as she could. He felt good. Solid.

He tugged at her necklace and the chain snapped, sending red beads scattering across the floor. He ignored it, nipping at the swell of her beast. Brennan sighed, her fingers tightening around his hair. He winced, his tongue circling the mark he'd left on her breast.

"We should stop," she heard herself say. Booth nodded.

"Yeah, we should." He punctuated his statement by flicking her nipple through her bra. She didn't want him to stop. God. She wanted him to go on forever. However long she could breathe, she wanted to experience the thrill of having Booth touch her body. He was so damn good at it. What harm could possibly come of it?

Stumbling to the sofa, he undressed her with the speed and dexterity of someone who knew exactly what to do. He would satisfy her like no one before – and she already knew it. His hands caressed her skin, and his eyes fell closed as if in prayer. He exhaled, his breath shaky.

"You're more beautiful than I could ever have imagined, Bones," he said, his eyes fiery and glassy when he finally looked at her again. She swallowed, a blush creeping across her cheeks.

"You've imagined me naked?" He kissed her mouth, hard.

"Every damn night since the moment I was introduced to your bossy ass." She giggled, her eyes widening when he removed his own clothes. She straddled his hips, holding his shoulders, revelling in the warmth of his skin against her palms and how hard every inch of Booth was. She had imagined, professionally of course, that Booth had an excellent skeletal system, with firm muscles and…

Oh who the hell was she trying to fool? She had imagined more than just his muscles.

He was bigger than she imagined. And for a small moment, while her body stretched to accommodate him, she felt the most bizarre sense of pleasure and pain. When he groaned, she relaxed, rocking against him and quite enjoying the effect she had on him. Booth cupped the back of her head and brought her lips down to meet his, growling, telling her the most wonderful things about herself. She felt bolts of hot exhilaration shoot through her hips, up her belly, to her chest where it settled, warm and fuzzy.

Her toes curled, and she groaned his name, their bodies slick with sweat, the scent of their passion lingered enticingly in the air. She breathed in, eliciting a little gasp when he bumped her clitoris and she wondered if everything her life was meant to come to this exact point, when Booth would be inside her, drawing out all her inhibitions.

"You're so good," she said, her womb contracting around him. He hissed, his fingers clenching her arms.

"Still think we should stop, Bones?" He asked, the question rhetorical because she thought she might pull his gun on him if he did.

"Faster, Booth," she demanded, rocking her hips, quite sure this was the best feeling she'd had. Ever.

"I could do this with you forever," he confessed, thrusting harder.

"You might have to. I could become addicted." Her body shuddered, every part of her tensing as she came, thundering and crashing and experiencing all the stupid romantic terminologies she didn't believe existed. Booth was causing her best orgasm yet and all she could say was 'Uhhh'.

He seemed to understand her made up language. For her mumbled a few inarticulate phrases himself, eventually crushing her as he stroked twice more into her body and came ferociously in her arms. "Bones…" he sighed, breathless against her shoulder. She felt her eyes fall closed and her mind began to reel at how wonderful a lover Seeley Booth was.

After a few long moments, he cleared his throat.

"Hey you got a soda, some juice?" She shifted in his arms.

"Yeah in my fridge. I'll get it." He halted her movement immediately.

"No, no, no. You know what? I'm...I'm not your guest. You don't have to wait on me. I'll get it. Wait, do you want anything?" He pulled on his clothes, rugged and quite obviously relishing the sex they'd just had.

"No that's okay," she replied, falling against the sofa, spent.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, her eyes fell closed and she thought she might fall asleep.

Until she heard the explosion.


Final wee word, the last part was taken from the script. From when Booth asks for the soda. I just added my own little bit in the middle. I could add sex into anything. I think I might be a nympho! Thanks for reading.