A/N: All that sex talk… muse found it hard to keep this at a T rating!


"Is this some kind of a sex thing?"

Tell me we're not back to the fluffy pink handcuffs and the kinky games, please…

"How do you get there so quickly?"

Isn't it self-explanatory, Bones?

"The man said "fantasy", I just made the leap"

Please don't give me that look. I'm not a pervert, you know. It' just that "fantasy" goes from Disneyland to sex fiend in the course of your early teen years. No adult would hear the word and assume we're discussing lovable creatures with sweet voices… so don't look at me if I'm a pervert…


"This isn't about the horses. It's about a dominant versus a submissive balance of power; a variation of sadomasochism"

I don't want to know how you know all that stuff. I know you read a lot. I refuse to believe you got the knowledge from any other source.

"Those people are eating from thralls. Do you think that's sexy?"

Please, dear God, don't let her say yes. I could never look at her the same way, and I don't think I'd manage much if I can't look at her on a daily basis.

"Fetishism is a way of indulging in sexual activity without actually engaging emotionally with the other person as a fully formed human being…"

Mumble jumble, yadda, yadda, yadda. Bottom line, you talk the talk but you don't walk the walk. I think I'm relieved.

"Well, sex is all about engaging. If you don't want to engage you just stay home and… you know…"

Why is it that I have no problem discussing sex with anyone but you? I feel like a bumbling sixteen year old when the subject comes up between us… having to resort to euphemisms is a tad degrading, and I'm fervently hoping you caught my drift, cause I don't think I'm up to explaining it to you just now…

"There are masturbation fetishes, often involving woman's shoes or other…"

Beware what you wish for… I could do without all that information, Bones, really. Just a simple "I know what you mean" or better yet, a nod with your head would have sufficed. There really wasn't a need for you to give me more than that…

"Can we just talk to Mr. Ed's mistress, dominatrix, whatever?"

I think I spoke too soon. You couldn't possibly consider me a pervert. More like a big, boring oaf, judging by the condescending look you're giving me. I don't know if the idea of you knowing so much about sexual deviations is a turn on or not…


"Why are you being so judgmental?"

Now it's ME who's been judgmental? Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?

"When you turn someone into an object of sexual pleasure, it's wrong."

And I don't care how you go about objectifying people. That's something you simply don't do. I may walk on the side of womanizer now and then, but even the occasional one night stands in my life were treated like women, never like an object…


"This is not normal, okay? This is…"

This is depraved, immoral, indecent and the furthest thing from love I've ever encountered. Not to mention the hugest turn off in my life.

"It's what, Booth?"

I observe you for a moment, trying to decide if your interest lies on my opinion or on the matter at hand.

"You're not interested in… ah…?"

Back to being a bumbling idiot, I know. But I prefer coming across as an idiot than try to have this conversation in a serious manner with a serious… uh… interest… showing in my face and other lower regions.

"Pony play? No, but I'm the first to admit that in sexual situations I have indulged in role playing."

Role play? Oh, Bones, how poorly have you been loved if you have had to resort to role play to keep things interesting… although I have to admit that the idea of you dressed up as a French maid…

"You know what? It's getting a bit warm in here…"

Too warm… actually, too hot to handle. I hate this case; it's making it difficult to keep quiet about certain things that it's best for them to remain unmentioned…


"We all indulge in role play in sexual situations."

Don't include me in that generalization, Bones, I don't do that.

"Oh, not me, I would be normal here!"

These days, love is less normal than weird. But I still maintain I'm a normal guy who needs an emotional connection of sorts when it comes to having sex… and even more when it comes to making love. Oh, I'm not a saint, all right. I've had sex and I've made love, and I can appreciate the difference and whereas I'm thankful for the first, I'm looking for the later one.

"Booth, any time you look at a woman and make the judgment that she's beautiful, you objectify her. Every time I put on lipstick and nice clothes I'm objectifying myself. It's more subtle that what these people are doing, but otherwise, it's the same dynamic."

How can it be the same dynamic? I find you attractive with or without make-up. And to me you look just fine in jeans as you do on one of those nice dresses you seldom wear.

"When you're wearing lipstick, Bones, it's not like this…"

Because I could never feel interested in a horse like I could with your lipstick. Granted, the lipstick has nothing to do with it, it's just something I'll have to taste and rub out of my way when I get a taste of you…


"Why? I'll tell you why. Here we are, all of us, basically alone, separate creatures just circling each other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some, they just give up hope because in their mind they're thinking, "Oh, there's nobody out there for me." But all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while, every once in a while two people meet and there's that spark. And yes Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first, but making love? Making love, that's when two people become one."

And I finally stopped bumbling. Now I can look at you in the eye, man and woman talking about the real thing. Love, not sex, Bones. I'm perfectly aware that only very few of us get to experience that, but I keep looking nonetheless. I know that all I have to do is look across this table to find it, but I also know that the timing isn't right yet. I've already pushed my luck too far by telling you about my feelings in such an open fashion… I can tell by the way you're looking at me that you're already analyzing every word I said, wondering where is the catch.

"It is scientifically impossible for two objects to occupy the same space."

Science. I'm not surprised you're trying to explain love with science. Maybe you can get away with it when you're discussing sex, but there's no way science will ever be able to explain love, no matter how hard you try.

"Yeah, but what's important is we try. And when we do it right, we get close."

And I want to believe I've… no… we've been doing things right, cause now you're the closest to me than any woman had gotten before.

"To what? Breaking the laws of physics?"

For you Bones, I'd break any law. I know you know that, too.

"Yeah, Bones, a miracle. Those people, role playing and their fetishes and their little sex games, it's crappy sex. You know, at least compared to the real thing."

And you and me, Bones, we're not going to have crappy sex. We're going to have the real thing. And you'll see the difference when we finally make love.


A/N: Poor Booth… Bones made him feel like an ignorant outsider every time they talked sex. But in the end… it was him who knew best.