Title: Bad Excuses
Rating: This is an M rated story. Don't forget the MA rated chapters of all my stories can be found at my website. Come join!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to various other, luckier people and I am just borrowing them. No infringement intended.
Author's Note: I know – it's been ages since I updated this story, as is the case with most of my Bones fics. I'm trying to make more of an effort to get some of them updated. I have been wanting to tackle Lost and Found for some time, but there's so much of it that I need to re-read before I can make an attempt at it. For now, I hope a smutty chapter of this story will suffice. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review.
"All right. I've changed my mind."
Camille's coffee cup stopped halfway to her lips and she looked up from her computer screen. Brennan hovered outside her office and she looked strangely defensive for a woman asking for help. Cam pressed her lips together as she struggled not to smile. "Come," she said at last, gesturing to the empty chairs facing her desk. "Sit." Temperance Brennan was an enigma and she could understand why men were so drawn to her. There was a desire to crack her – to work her out. Camille knew it would take a persistent man to get through.
"I'm not sure why I'm here," said Brennan, venturing into the office. "You had a sexual relationship with Booth and I feel I might be crossing a boundary here." Camille smirked, finally taking a sip of coffee.
"Had being the operative word. Seeley and I had a fun relationship. There was never anything beyond it." Not the second time around, anyway. First time she'd wondered if maybe she'd fallen in love with him – and maybe she had. But in the same way it took a persistent man to love Brennan, persistence was definitely the order of the day as far as Booth was concerned. Camille had been far
too interested in her career to play house with him. "We're friends now and I care about him." Brennan crossed her legs and she had that air of confidence that intimidated most. "Do you?"
"Do I what? Care about him?" Camille nodded. "Of course I care about him." Brennan spoke with a rushed, defensive tone – as though Cam were trying to discredit her work or pick fault in a conclusion she'd made about bones.
"Do you love him?" It surprised her that she didn't feel jealous at the prospect of Brennan being in love with her ex-boyfriend. In fact she felt almost relieved that he'd found someone. Temperance's blue eyes were wide and her expression frozen.
"I think it's too early to determine something like that. Love is a very complicated emotion." Ever analytical, Brennan found it difficult to reach out and grasp her feelings and accept them for what they were.
"Alright... do you think you could love him?" she did not wait for Brennan to reply. "I ask because I think Booth has already went beyond that line. And if you don't feel the same about him, it's kinder to tell him outright. But I don't think that's the issue. I think you're just afraid to take a leap into a proper, official relationship so instead to content yourself with brief trysts."
Brennan was tempted to reveal that there was nothing 'brief' about her meetings with Booth. Most of the time he was slow, lingering and thorough. Sometimes frenzied yearning took control but even in their most desperate of instances, there was a tenderness in all his actions. Brennan felt her cheeks redden and she cleared her throat coyly. "Professional relationships turned personal are never good. It never ends well." Camille reclined back in her chair, shaking her head.
"When I was a cop I worked with a couple, Devon and Louise Redmond. They were partners and while working they bickered like cat and dog – bouncing opposing theories around, usually with carefully chosen and fairly colourful words. They were the two most stubborn minds I'd ever met. One night they held a dinner party for all the guys and in private, they complimented each other in ways I cannot explain. Their relationship was so loving and warm and their home was a proper home. They had two children – two little boys – and I had always wondered how those boys would feel with their mom and dad bickering so incessantly. Turns out, they never did. Once the clocked out, Devon and Louise were just normal people with a normal family.
"Truth is, Brennan, you can have that if you truly make the effort to have it. If you automatically think things won't work out... they won't." Brennan nodded slightly, absorbing the meaning of her words. Camille didn't tell her that during a bank robbery Louise had been shot and died on the spot. Or that Devon Redmond was a shell of his former self, giving up police-work entirely to look after his grief-stricken sons. Some things were better left unsaid. Bad enough that Brennan already thought all stories ended tragically. "I know for a fact that Booth goes swimming in the FBI pools on Mondays after work." The hint was there and Brennan seized it, getting to her feet.
"Thanks Cam," she said over her shoulder.
"Welcome Dr Brennan."
Brennan stood on the observation balcony that overlooked the crystalline pool below. The air was heavily scented with the sterile smell of chlorine. She wrinkled her nose, resting her forearms on the edging wall as she peered down. Six federal employees were using the pool, slicing through the water with steely determination – their movements fast and lucid. It was evident that they were all frequent users of the pool facility.
Booth was one of them, his sun-bronzed skin soaked and glistening, she was aroused upon sight. For a long time she stood and watched him swim, alternating his strokes for maximum workout. When he stood, droplets of chemically treated water cascaded over him and he shimmered under the florescent lights, lifting his arms to rake his fingers through his hair. When he did all his muscles flexed, perfectly taut and defined.
She smiled to herself, recalling how firm he felt when he was leaning over her – thrusting into her body with fierce determination. Between her thighs her clitoris throbbed of its own accord and she was momentarily distracted. Her attention came thundering back with a slender woman in a black swimsuit butterfly-stroked her way towards him. Even from the observation balcony, Brennan could see the look of want – desire – in the other woman's eyes. Jealousy flared as she willed Booth not to notice. He did, turning to the woman as she engaged him in flirtatious conversation. Suddenly it became evident that Brennan was not the only woman who had her eyes levelled on him. Several other, equally enthralled ladies did too.
Straightening her spine, Brennan stepped away from the railing. Damn any woman who thought she was going to step into her territory. Thankful that it was past eight she slipped into the empty locker room, sweeping her eyes across to the shower area. When, she wondered, had the FBI become so concerned with modesty? The showers were divided into small cubicles with stark white, plastic curtains that slid across on metal rails. Brennan stepped inside one, pulling the curtain across. She was thankful for her decision to go home and change before coming to find him – for if she had still been wearing her jeans she was certain they'd be soaked by the puddles of water on the tiled floor. The skirt she wore remained dry whilst her bare feet in the open-toe sandals she'd slipped on, were wet.
If she got caught here, in the men's locker room, Brennan was fairly sure she could be prosecuted for being a pervert. Could women be perverts? she wondered, parting the curtain a little so she could peer out into the still empty room. Above her the shower-head dripped occasionally, planting fat droplets of water in her hair. After ten minutes she wondered if maybe he'd sneaked off with the busty brunette who'd found him in the pool.
Then she heard his familiar whistle. Her teeth clamped over her lower lip as she watched him undress, removing the black shorts he swam in. From behind, his buttocks were firm and she recalled with startling vividness, how they felt when she dug her nails into the flesh. Slinging a towel over his shoulder, Booth turned towards the showers. She stepped back, waiting until he was level with hers before reaching out and pulling him inside.
If it weren't for his complete nudity, Booth would have reached for his weapon. Her mouth found his in a hard, fierce kiss and he was startled. His lips parted to cry out and her tongue slipped inside, her hips grinding against his. "Bones?" he asked, pressing on her shoulders. "What the hell...?" she shushed him urgently, her blue eyes wild with something he hadn't seen before. "What are you doing?" As much as he tried to keep his focus – to regroup his thoughts – her proximity and her certain horniness were extraordinarily distracting. He could smell her perfume and his groin began to stir as she rotated her slender hips against his.
"Will you be quiet?" she almost snapped, her palms flat against his chest. Had she lost her mind, he wondered? Had she forgotten that they weren't on good terms? He couldn't resist her or the dark, undiluted desire in her eyes. His mouth found hers, his fingers curving around the soft, supple curve of her ass in the cotton skirt she wore. Booth held her close, his penis hardening almost achingly. "I was watching you," Brennan said against his lips in a ragged, breathless whisper. She tasted good, he thought. "Who was the woman?" Her neat nails dug into his backside, almost in punishment, and he hissed.
Woman? What was she talking about. "What woman?"
Her fingers relaxed and a feral smile spread across her features. God, she was truly wild. "Good answer," she chuckled, craning her neck to pass her lips across his again. He was receptive, drawing his arms around her body and urging her closer. The heat in his groin stepped up a notch as her cool hand slipped between their bodies and caressed his penis with infuriating tenderness. He winced, jerking into her touch. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been missing her body during their spat. Last night he'd fantasised about her supple breasts, her hard nipples straining against that black lacy bra she owned.
She looked no les divine in reality, either. The sleeveless yellow top she wore hung close to her curves, flaunting the shapely curve of her waist and her full, round breasts. As she stepped back he traced his thumbs over the turgid outline of her nipples, watching as she bit her lower lip in a futile attempt to control her arousal. "Did you come here to talk?" he asked, pinching her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her palms flattened against the side wall and her eyelids closed over her desire-laden irises whose colouring was now a dark, smoky blue.
"I did," she whimpered breathlessly, "but forget that." As much as he was curious about what she had to come to say, her flushed cheeks and obvious arousal proved too distracting. When she opened her eyes again she levelled her gaze on his penis, wrapping her fingers around it and stroking firmly upward. He winced, bracing his hands on her slender shoulders. He'd sworn not to get into this situation with her again – at least not until they had come to a proper resolution about their relationship but God almighty, she was the sexiest and most liberated woman he'd ever known. And she drove him wild.
Slipping his hand under her top, Booth massaged her breast, the soft flesh moulding easily to the shape of his palm. Her nipple was a tight nub beneath his touch and she whimpered encouragement, gripping him harder. Outside a locker slammed shut and they leapt apart, eyes wide. Brennan recovered quickly, moving towards him with sharp determination. Whoever was out there could remain so because behind this curtain she was getting what she wanted.
Her kiss was fierce, muffling the sound of his surprise at her brazenness. His fingers laced into her hair, noting the damp strands of the incessant dripping of the showerhead. Booth sighed against her lips, hooking her thighs with his arms. Her legs folded deftly around his waist, her back pressed against the wall. Looking down at him, she was crazed with desire and he was shocked – and delighted – to find that beneath her cotton skirt she was naked. She was wet, her damp curls rubbing against his penis as she enthusiastically ground her hips.
"Now!" she mouthed, tilting her body. He slid into her easily, her muscles like liquid as she accepted him. His jaw tightened at the level of her arousal as he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt. Her chest rose as she struggled to remain silent. Somewhere beyond the curtain someone was taking a shower, the pipes creaking nosily. Booth shifted inside her, moving slow a first as if to savour being inside her. He had to have her for keeps – being with her was just too good.
"Bones," he whispered, leaning into her ear. She grunted softly, tightening her muscles around his penis. Her body trembled in his arms. The other man was whistling now, a tuneless melody that rose over the sound of the falling water and pipes. "You know how I feel about you, right?" He hoped she truly did because he'd been trying hard to make her see that there was more than sex between them. However spectacular it was to make love to her – fuck her – whatever. She slid her fingers into his hair, kissing him hard.
"I do..." she whispered back, rocking her hips. With each moment he rubbed her clitoris and sparks of pleasure rolled through her body. He held her tight, thrusting her into abandon. "Booth..." she whimpered nosily. Moments later, the noise from the neighbouring shower ceased. Two more thrusts and she was coming, he following behind. Their orgasms were noiseless, eyes fused as only their gazes could adequately relate the intensity of pleasure that their voices could not. Her womb contracted around him as he came hard.
He held her for a long time afterwards, stroking her dampened hair. Her legs slackened around him but she was unsteady as she put her feet on the floor. Pursing her lips together, Brennan tried hard to regain control of her breathing, worried now that she might get caught here. A blush crept to her cheeks as she recalled her uncontrollable horniness – something she hadn't been familiar with until she'd been with Booth.
Coyly she met his gaze. "I guess we need to talk?" she said. He slung the towel over his shoulder again.
"We do," he agreed. "How about you see if you can sneak outside again and I'll get dressed? I'll take you for dinner." She smiled smoothing her skirt over her thighs. Sneaking out probably wouldn't be as easy as sneaking in. Still, the risk had been more than worth it.
"Sounds good to me," she replied, slipping out from behind the curtain.
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