AUTHOR'S NOTE: So after lots of reading and lurking, I have written a fanfic! (blushes). This is the first creative writing that I've done in awhile, and it was kinda fun. Because I don't really have enough time or energy to come up with a plot, and also because I tend to really like the BB M fics, this is mostly just some BB smutfluff with a hint of angst. It does have a bit (ok, a lot) of "the sex" in it, so don't say I didn't warn you! Of course, I own nothing except the story. Let me know what you think!


Talk To Me

Temperance Brennan was a woman of many words. She had received a nearly perfect score on her verbal GRE's, and since that time had steadily been building her vocabulary, both with scientific jargon and sophisticated descriptions that made her writing both impressive and compelling. Critics had praised her ability to use words to create believable stories, characters with depth, and atmospheric scenes which made the reader feel as if he were right there, experiencing the mystery first-hand. Temperance was good at this. So why was it that, in this moment, she had no words to tell her partner, Seeley Booth, what she was feeling? Even before the words "I'm fine" left her lips, and the look of frustration crossed her partner's face, she knew that her words were not adequate. But somehow, reading into the tangled mess of emotions inside of her, the only that she pulled out was "fine."

"Fine," her partner repeated slowly. "Let me get this straight. Your mother is dead. Your father and brother are both on the run. In the past few weeks, you have been buried alive, stalked by a killer, and had your own ideas used as a template for murder. Now, someone who you allowed to get close to you has sailed off into the sunset, without you. I'm having trouble seeing where the 'fine' fits in, Bones."

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Booth. I've been ok. Am ok. Am going to be ok. Life goes on. What do you want from me?"

The look of frustration on his face turned to something that looked a lot like anger. "You know what I'd really love to have from you, Bones? Honesty. Just one minute of truth in the middle of this crazy, unbelievable life that we live. Just look at me and tell me what you feel, what you need. Tell me what I can do for you. Because when you give me this 'fine' stuff, I come up empty."

"It's not your job to help me through my problems, you know," she murmured, avoiding his intense gaze. Her emotions—whatever they were—were stirring madly inside of her, begging to be made sense of, shared. It was frustrating for her, too; didn't he know that? What did she feel? What did she want?

Sensing that there might be something under her surface, just beneath their reach, Booth took her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. The contact startled her, as did the storm she saw brewing behind his eyes. "Temperance," he pleaded. "Talk to me."

Frustrated, desperate now, Brennan reached inside of herself, trying to find something, anything, true and real to tell him. His touch seemed to be burning her skin, his eyes piercing her soul. What could she say? She found something, grasped hold of it, but was still a little surprised when the words came out.

"I want you to kiss me."

Time stood still for a moment while her words sunk in. Dumbfounded, Booth's hands dropped to his sides, his brows furrowed, not quite understanding. "What?"

She sighed, her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them again and met his gaze, it was with a new confidence. "You asked me to be honest with you. You asked me to talk to you. This is what I've got. I'll talk to you all night—tell you what I want. Just don't ask for more than that right now."

Booth let out the breath he was holding. He searched her face—she looked bold, sure of herself, to any observer. Behind that, though, was a vulnerability that both touched and pained him. He wasn't deluding himself that she was weak or fragile; she was the toughest woman he knew. However, she looked so pretty and young at the moment—a lost soul begging for a connection in the only way she knew how. He pondered this dilemma. He'd be lying if he said he never thought about it before—pulling his gorgeous partner into his arms, touching her, making the infuriatingly scientific discourse she was so fond of die on her lips as he swallowed it with his own mouth. But he also wanted to take care of her. When he came to her today, he really, truly wanted her to express her feeling, pour her heart out. Now, her heart was not the part of her body that she was offering to him.

"Booth, please." Whispered. Pleading. She was offering him the most honest thing she could conceive of right now.

In that moment, they both knew it. This was the time to be as real as they could be. That was all there was.

His hands went into her silky hair, his face was inches from hers. The sudden closeness flooded her belly with warm, hot desire. 'Oh God,' she thought, 'What have I done?'

"Ok," he whispered. "But you've gotta keep talking to me. Promise." Lips closer.

She would have promised him anything at that moment. "Yes. Kiss me."

At the moment of contact, there were colors. Stars. Electricity. Something intangible that set their bodies humming and turned their brains into a single-minded organism, interested only in getting as close to the other as they could get. And the kiss was barely there—the slightest touch of lips. A brushstroke against their mouths, and everything was fire.

He pulled away, painfully. "Yes?"

She gasped. "More. Please." Her mouth was searching, seeking that electric feeling again.


A light flashed for her; she knew what he needed from her. "More. Harder. Wetter. Let me feel your mouth, your tongue. Let me know you want me."

Groaning, he complied. He kissed her hard until there was no breath left in them. His tongue found hers, tasting, nibbling, sucking her own lips and tongue and making them tingle. In the back of his mind, hazed over with desire was the thought that nothing, ever, had been as hot as this—having his mouth on this incredible woman, who he had wanted for so long, knowing that it was exactly what she wanted.

She felt frenzied, out of control, yet she knew that control was hers; he would do most anything she said. Between kisses, she said "Take me to the bedroom," and they made their way there, lips rarely parting. She listened to her body and told him what it needed. "Kiss me everywhere," she said laying down and drawing his mouth to her throat. "Aaaaah, yes….right there." He responded with a growl, nuzzling her neck, licking and gently biting at her earlobes. He was having difficulty restraining himself—everything inside of him was telling him to rip her clothes off and lose himself in the hot sweetness of her. But this wasn't about him. She would guide him to where they needed to go.

And she did. She asked him, with a wavering voice, to undress her, and he did reverently, smoothing his hands and trailing his lips over the newly exposed skin. She tossed her head restlessly, biting her lips, trying to decide whether to give into her baser instincts and tell him to go faster, to dispense with the foreplay and to take her already, make her come. Something else held her back from this. She wanted to make this last as long as it could. She wasn't sure if this was because it felt so good and right, or if she was afraid that the faster it was over, the sooner she was going to have to think about it. Perhaps, it was a bit of both.

When she was divested of all but her underclothes, and none of her exposed skin was left untasted, she stilled the head of one very flushed Seeley Booth with her hands. "Now you. I want to see you."

He was not a man who was ashamed of his body. But for a moment, he flushed a shade even deeper than his desire. Temperance Brennan was a very driven, passionate woman, and right now he felt her studying him so intently that he almost believed, ludicrously, that with every piece of clothing he removed, she could see more deeply into his thoughts, his soul. Pushing these thoughts away, he honored her request. He pulled off his shirt and was pleased to hear her sudden, sharp intake of breath. She liked what she saw, and he silently thanked God for every push-up and sit-up that he had ever done, that made his body an object of her desire. He removed his pants as well, leaving only his boxers, and climbed back over to her.

She reached out to him. "I want to touch you."

For the first time that night, he did not obey her request. He caught her hand and clasped in between his own. "No." Seeing her confused, somewhat hurt expression, he quickly added "Just….not right now. I really need for this to be about you right now. Please, let me do this for you."

Not really understanding but deciding to trust him, she slowly nodded, relaxing and lying back down. "Well," she said huskily, "If I can't touch you, you better damned well get back to touching me. I don't even know why I'm still wearing this," gesturing to her bra.

Smiling, Booth replied "Because you hadn't asked me to take it off yet."

"I am now."

His smile faded. "Yes." He kneeled over her, his fingers trembling slightly as they reached for the clasp at the front of her chest. When the garment unsnapped, it clung for a moment on the fullness of her breasts, until he gently pushed it away. He stared for a moment, not moving.

Anticipating his touch, Brennan began to stir impatiently when she didn't feel it. "Booth. Look later. Touch now."

Shaking away his paralyzing awe, Seeley reached out and gently stroked the swell of her breasts with his fingertips. He repeated the motion on the underside of her breasts, tickling her. He nipples turned pebble-hard, begging with their own words to be touched. His fingers drew enticing circles that grew ever closer to the taut nubs that were beckoning him. By the time he reached them, stroking with his thumbs and then lightly pinching and rolling them between his fingers, Temperance was gasping and bucking her hips off the bed. Every gentle squeeze seemed to send a tiny electric shockwave to her clit. After several minutes of his exquisitely tortuous ministrations, she had no doubt where she needed him next.

"Seeley," she whispered. He looked at her face, surprised. He had been fascinated with her body, and its responses to his touch, but the unexpected use of his first name jolted him out of his reverie. Somehow, her saying his given name was one of the most intimate things that had happened thus far this night. He looked at her questioningly.

"What can I do for you?"

"You know what I want."

"Tell me."

She sighed. Her body felt so hot, and her arousal had dulled whatever sense of modestly she had up until this moment. She looked him straight in the eye.

"I want you to fuck me with your tongue."

At that moment he almost came in his boxers. Temperance Brennan, his articulate queen of science, just said the words that had manifested, in some variation, most every night in his fantasies and dreams. He swallowed thickly. How could any woman have this much effect over him?

He gently pulled down her panties. She was beautiful, wet and glistening. He wanted to make her feel better than she had ever felt. "Tell me what you like."

Yes. She had promised to talk to him. "First—really lightly. With the tip of your tongue." She gasped at the first contact. His tongue, butterfly-soft, swept across her clit. Occasionally he would flutter his tongue ever so quickly against her, making her whimper. His touch was so delicate, but to her over-sensitized body it was the most frustrated pleasure she had ever felt.

"Yes. Touch me while you do that." He continued teasing her with his mouth, using his fingers to tickle the insides of her thighs, her hips, reaching up to stroke her sensitive nipples and pull on them. She moaned, thrashing her head from side to side. "Harder. I need more."

He increased the pressure of his tongue-strokes, licking in earnest now, turned on ridiculously by her taste and the little noises she was making. His pace became frantic, matching her own rhythmic thrusts. Her ankles wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers grasped at the headboard, holding on for dear life. Just one more thing….

"Your fingers….inside….please."

Yeeeees. Anything. Two of his large fingers of his left hand slid into her soaking wet center, easily. With his other hand he continued to stroke the rest of her body. His tongue never stilled. She was practically crying, reeling from the triple-pronged sensations. She felt the pleasure build to a fever pitch, rolling over her but not quite breaking---yet.

When he began to move his fingers, gently stroking the upper wall of her opening with a sweeping motion, she lost it. With a keening cry, her body stiffened, pressed hard against his mouth and fingers, and she shook as the sweet hot throbbing took over her body. Booth stayed on for the ride, refusing to abandon her until the last shudder went through her. Even once her orgasm subsided for the most part, occasionally deep throbs coursed through her body, encouraged by his slowing licks and finger movements. By the time this ended, she felt as completely spent as she had ever felt in her life.

Eventually, after lying this way for several minutes, Seeley removed his fingers from her and reached up to collapsed beside her, eyes closed. Mentally, he scolded his lingering erection, reminding himself that this was about her, about what she needed and was able to ask for right now. As their breathing slowed, thoughts about what had just transpired between them swam through their heads.

Eventually, as he opened his eyes, he found her staring at him, again with that see-through-you look. "Booth…"

"Shh, it's ok. You did good. You don't have to talk right now." Afraid that if she did begin to talk, it would be to rationalize what happened, put up a wall, and suck all the vulnerable honesty out of this moment.

"No" she said more firmly. "I just want to tell you….I….I…I don't have the words right now." Slowly, contemplatively. "But I hope to. Sometime."

He smiled at her sincerity. "Alright, that's good. You can talk to me—when you are ready." He pushed a sweet, chaste kiss on her damp brow.

"Yes," she murmured. "When we are ready." With that, both drifted into a sleep, filled with strange dreams that neither of them would know how to put into words.