A/N: This was written for a LiveJournal challenge called Porn Battle. There was a length limit, so if it feels short, that's why. (I hate the word "porn," but that's my own personal hang-up.)
ficlet feels strange to me, so it may feel strange to you, too. I
know what I was trying to do, but it may not have worked for this short
Timeframe: Sometime in the future. Booth and Brennan are romantically involved.
Characters: Booth, Brennan
Rating: M or NC-17 for a little darkness and a little sex.
Summary: "Light does the darkness most fear."
He's bound and gagged on a cold dirt floor. Weak, milky light trickles through a tiny window set high on the wall. The door opens, and the dead shuffle into the room, one by one. They don't touch him—just stare. Their mouths are sewn shut with twine, but there's a growing buzz in the air. No, in his skull. Like a swarm of bees or a thousand whispers.
But that's impossible...because the dead don't talk.
Booth jerks awake, the dream bitter in his mouth. His eyes fly open, but the room is swathed in darkness. The blackness is so complete that he blinks twice, just to be sure his eyes are actually open. A scream builds in his throat, and just when he thinks he won't be able to hold it in any longer, a light comes on.
"Booth?" Her voice, husky with sleep, brings him back—anchoring him to this bed, this room.
"Were you having a nightmare?"
He sits up and leans back against the headboard. "Go back to sleep, Bones."
"You didn't answer my question."
Relief washes over him when she doesn't push. Warm fingers ghost across his skin, trace his collar bone as if the secrets of the universe are written there. "Lie back, Booth."
"Lie back." The soft weight of her bare breasts presses against his arm, and her breath whispers damply against his cheek.
Sighing, he obeys. Sheets rustle and the bed dips as she stretches an arm out toward the light. "Leave it on."
"All right," she says, withdrawing her hand and sitting back on her heels. The blanket pools around her hips, revealing the pale blur of her naked torso.
Without meaning to, he finds his hand nestled against her white stomach, fingers spread wide. She covers his hand with her own and then lifts it. "There are 27 bones in the human hand," she says, head bent downward. Her hair slides forward, leaving a sliver of her face in shadow as she smooths her thumb over his hand. Her touch is gentle but sure, and part of him relaxes slightly, even as another stiffens.
Since she doesn't seem to expect a response, he stays silent. Sliding his other hand underneath his head, he watches her lick the tip of his middle finger and then drag her teeth over the sensitive pad. A shiver courses through him. "The fingertips contain some of the densest areas of nerve endings on the human body," she says, holding his gaze without blinking. There is a message in her eyes, and he reads it, even though she doesn't say the words. Has never said the words.
When she lays his hand back on the bed, he feels a strange sense of loss. But loss morphs into something else as she trails her fingers over his stomach and down to his cock. He's half-hard already, and when she moves down on the bed to lie between his legs, half becomes fully.
"Close your eyes," she whispers.
He doesn't want to—he likes to watch her—but he does it anyway. Because the words sound thick and sweet as honey, and he is melting—into her warm hand and the soft touch of her lips.
Light flickers behind his eyelids as he threads his fingers into her silky hair and lets himself arch into moist heat. Her tongue slides against him, and the friction makes him want to fuck her mouth, but he holds back, lets her work him to her own rhythm. Trusting that she'll look after him. Because he belongs to her; he knows that now, and with that knowledge comes acceptance.
She moans; the wordless sound vibrates through him. Down into his balls, up through his cock, and still further up—through his heart.
"Are you wet?" he asks, breathing hard.
"Mmhmm," she answers, not taking her mouth from his cock.
"Good," he says. Then she picks up speed, and there is no more thought. Just feeling—and the sound of her breathing and his breathing and yesBonesyes...
When his breathing finally slows, he opens his eyes. She's still between his legs, her chin propped in her hand. A thoughtful expression crosses her face before she crawls up to lie beside him. She kisses him, and he can taste himself on her lips. "I wanted to help...I just..."
It's strange to see his articulate Bones fumbling for words. He smooths her hair off her cheek and then kisses her forehead. "I know. Thank you."
This time, when she goes to switch off the light, he doesn't stop her.