Title: Two Partners in the Lab
Characters: Brennan/ Booth
Rating: M - Strong Sexual Content
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX Television and Hart Hanson, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
One Shot. A sort of "response" to Captain Morgan MisAdventures. You don't need to have read that story to follow this one.
Temperance Brennan walked into the lab. It was 10 o'clock on Sunday evening. There was no other time in the week that the place was this abandoned. This wasn't just another day at the office either. Temperance Brennan had a date.
Brennan walked into her office expecting to find him. A single blue rose lay on her desk; signifying either mystery or attaining the impossible. She couldn't help but smile, wondering which had inspired him. There was a hand written note attached.
She smiled again as she started to remove her clothes. Booth had responded to her invitation… challenge? Maybe a bit of both. The point was, he had responded, and he wanted their meeting to be on her turf this time. She was pretty secure in the fact that there was probably some deep psychological meaning to all of this, but she was just happy he'd responded.
She paused after she'd removed her blouse and skirt. The note simply read- You, your lab coat, I'll meet you on the platform. Security has been taken care of. SB
She wasn't sure if that actually implied that he wanted her in only her lab coat, but it seemed logical that as little clothing as possible would aide in the desired outcome of their meeting. She removed her bra, which would require removal of said lab coat to divest, but she chose to leave her stockings, garters, and panties on.
She'd spent the afternoon at La Perla picking out her accoutrements, and she wasn't going to have them go to waste. She pulled the blue lab coat off its hook by the door, and slid it over the naked flesh of her shoulders. She couldn't help but wonder about this little fantasy of his. How long… how many times had this particular scenario run through his head? Perhaps as often as her own handcuff fantasy? Longer?
She picked up the rose on the way out of her office. She knew she should take the time to put it in water, roses were so delicate. But, she just couldn't squelch the desire to keep it close to her. Mystery… impossibility… possibilities, they became a tangled web in her head as she lifted the flower to her nose and drew in its sent.
She didn't immediately see him when she mounted the platform. He leaned against one of the pillars at the far end. He'd obviously placed a set of x-rays on one of the steel tables. They were laid out like a set of remains.
She approached the table and ignored his presence. "Male. Early thirties. Approximately 6'2". Excellent bones structure and density."
Booth silently moved up behind her as she spoke. He laid his palms flat, fingers spread against the rear of her thighs, and slowly moved them up to cup her ass.
Brennan's voice faltered, but she did not stop. "Athlete in his youth. His shoulder is worn from repetitive motion."
He hissed as he his fingers discovered the garters. Brennan smiled to herself in satisfaction. She liked the idea that she could shock him. She enjoyed the thought of keeping him a little off balance. Seeley Booth, without all that tight self-control, was a force to be reckoned with.
"There is evidence of breaks to two of the ribs, and a fracture to the clavicle. Here, here, and here." Brennan's hands floated across the x-rays.
Booth's hands moved up her body as his lips descended on her neck. Her hair was in the traditional ponytail, which left her neck exposed. This time it was Brennan who hissed as his hands came up to unsnap the top two snaps.
She fell back against him for support. One of his strong hands gently slid beneath the fabric to locate the source of her growing discomfort. As his thumb slid across the taut, electrified flesh, she felt the spark shoot out its tendrils across her body, down to the energy source itself.
Before her knees could buckle completely out from under her, his free arm was around her waist, and he used his weight to lean her into the table. His body wordlessly urged her on.
Booth felt the air constrict in his lungs when his hands grazed the strap of the garter holding up her stocking. He heard the air hiss across his clenched teeth, and felt her body heave in satisfaction. She had wanted a reaction… had probably counted on one.
He forced his hands away from that tantalizing piece of cloth. They followed the curves of her waist and sides, then wrapped around her shoulders to gently pop the top two buttons of her lab coat. He reveled in the contrast of the stiff cotton fabric to the smooth creamy silk of her skin.
One hand slid across her chest to cup a heaving breast; his hand slid across the pebbled flesh of her nipple. He felt her body go slack just in time. His free hand wrapped around her waist as his hips gently pressed against hers, forcing her into the table. His erection, tight against his slacks, pressed into her ass.
Despite the fact that it was Sunday, Booth had dressed in his favorite work suit. If this fantasy was going to be complete, all aspects needed to be respected. His favorite striped socks and red tie; his cocky belt buckle holding in the throbbing beast at his waist.
She sucked in another long draw of oxygen before continuing. "There is evidence of damage on the costal arch of the 3rd and 4th rib here. There are indications that the injury was sustained while the rib cage was spread, as if this person were shielding someone."
Booth's thumb and index finger pinched the flesh of her nipple hard enough to draw a curse through those silky lips of hers, before his hand were back down on her hips gathering the fabric of her lab coat up to reveal what lay hidden beneath the faux habit of her revered order. Sister of the church of science and logic. Mother Superior of the House of Reason. Her faith hidden behind the alters of fact and evidence.
He wondered what her gut told her about the danger of opening herself to him. Did she think of him as her Judas, or her Satan?
He had faith. Faith in the warmth of her body and the soul he saw buried in those cerulean pools. He had faith in the fire that tempered their need for each other, making it grow stronger and harder to deny every day. He had faith in his gut that told him this woman would be his undoing, but would send him straight to heaven in the process of pulling him into hell. He had faith in desire that was so deep, so strong, it could not be denied.
He was toying with her. She could feel it. When his fingers pinched at her flesh she screamed out. "Fuck." She wanted to scream 'harder', but his hand had already moved away.
She pressed her ass into him as he lifted the fabric of her lab coat, folding it up onto her back so that he could explore the flesh he'd revealed. His hands caressed the silky fabric of her garter and panties. She again smiled in satisfaction.
The way this man made her feel wasn't logical. Temperance Brennan understood sexual need and biology. It was part of the building blocks of our species, encoded in our DNA. The need to seek sexual gratification ensured the procreation of our species. That is, before we learned to tame the forces of nature with prophylactics, turning an anthropological inevitability into a random act of human self-gratification.
She wanted to believe this was all predestined. The symmetrical nature of his features; the heightened musculature and form displaying him as a superior mate; the way his body moved instinctively, seductively… pheromones. Of course her body couldn't help but respond to so many impressive biological indicators.
It had nothing to do with how well he knew her; with the way his hands traced the lace of her panties and stoked the fire of her desire while maintaining a calculated distance from the center of her heat.
Rationally she knew there were no documented cases of spontaneous human combustion. It was a myth perpetuated by mans inability to explain certain random events and occurrences. But at this moment… at this very instance in time… she wondered if her blood wasn't reaching a dangerously high temperature? She wondered if she could hold off the flame long enough to feel him inside her?
Booth reached across the table to a fully loaded instrument tray. His hand wrapped around the cold steel of a scalpel.
She saw the flash of metal. She should be nervous. All her senses should be on high alert, and she should be positioning herself in a defensive posture. Everything she knew about self defense roared through her body. It took every ounce of self control and determination to remain pressed between his hips and the cold metal table.
Her hands stroked the x-rays in front of her. It was the only way for her to have contact with him without any drastic movement on her part. Her fingers traced the lines of the ribs. The evidence of the injuries he'd incurred by protecting her and some other faceless person.
A 'buddy'. Weaponless he'd said. He'd gotten choked up. The friend hadn't made it. The look in his eyes and the defeat in his shoulders told her that as clearly as any words could have. A cry for him caught in her throat. She wanted to turn around and hold him close; reassure him that he was the hero. That just by the nature of trying he'd given his friend a gift, an afterlife.
Booth carried that friend's soul around now. Just as he carried the souls of all those people he'd killed with his own hands. She often wondered how he carried that heavy burden around without bending under its weight. He was Atlas… the world on his shoulders. The sob broke lose, but it sounded like a cry of anticipation.
Booth carefully pulled the fabric away from her skin to ensure he didn't nick the delicate flesh. He heard her gasp and thought for a moment she might prevent him from his present course, but she settled back into him in a kind of resignation. He wondered how much this tiny strip of fabric would cost him.
Brennan was drug back to reality by the feel of the fabric snapping back to her skin as he cut the side of her panties open. Money well spent she sighed, as he moved to release the other side. She realized that she hadn't even had the opportunity to look into his eyes since she'd entered the lab. She gazed at the rose as it lay on the edge of the table. It was open, and watched the scene unfold before it.
Booth let the fabric drop to the floor, and replaced the knife on the tray. He knew the whole thing would now need to be resterilized in order to prevent contamination of evidence. It was worth it.
One hand pressed into her back to lean her further over the table, then it slipped down to the expanse of flesh revealed before him. His eyes followed the crack of her flesh down to the point it disappeared beneath her. His hand traced the path his eyes had followed. The warm, wet heat engulfed his fingers. As he pulled his hand back, he brought with it the strong sent of arousal that had been obscured by disinfectant.
Booth quickly moved to release his buckle and unzip his slacks. His boxers chased his pants down to his ankles.
Brennan trembled when his hand finally reached in to stroke her. Her head flipped and she found herself staring at the bottom of the row of x-rays.
"There's a history of multiple fractures on the feet consistent with beating. It's a common method of torture in the Middle East, beating the soles of the feet with pipes or hoses. It must have been extremely painful." Her hand reached out to graze the film, a lover's caress.
That was it. It was as if she'd reached in and pulled his lungs out of his chest. He plunged into her in order to restart his heart and chase away the cold of the memories before they could take hold of him.
He didn't want to look at her. He wanted it to be rough. He knew he couldn't behave like this if he had to look into her eyes. He'd want to hold her and stroke her, chase away any bad thing that lingered behind those eyes, in that soul. He'd want to make love to her, and this was not about love. This was about possession. It was about biological inevitabilities and chemistry.
He wanted her to remember how he'd possessed her here. He wanted to leave his mark on her world, if only in her mind. He was a heretic in the House of Reason, and he wanted to contaminate her with his blasphemous thoughts of faith and hope and love. But she wanted this… this lie. She wanted the screw; the passion and lust. She wanted to believe it was sex.
His hands gripped the table on either side of her hips. His hips pistoned back and forth as he slid in and out of her hot stickiness. His feet were firmly planted, but he could still feel the world pull away from him as he approached his release.
One hand wrapped around her front to dive into the silky tuft of hair and find her hidden nubbin. His middle finger slipped past the sensitive pod of nerve endings to make room for his thumb. He pressed at the knot of flesh as his hips continued their assault.
Her body jerked, and he knew it was time. He let himself go. His release ripped out of his body as its remnants burst out of his throat in a deep, desperate moan.
Brennan could feel the desperation in his body as it pounded into her. She wanted to turn, to comfort him. But what he was doing felt so good. It felt good to have him take possession of her body and soul. It felt right to have him mark her here in this place. A joining of the things that meant so much to her; the most important things in her life.
Her lab, her partner. Together. It was a blessing; it was an inevitability; it was fulfillment of a prophecy.
When his hand came down between her legs, one finger slipped past her clit and came to rest on the juncture of their bodies. Her body thrashed against the table as the sensation sent her spiraling into one of the most intense climaxes she'd ever experienced in her life. She wanted to hold his hand there forever; she wanted the flames to consume her now; she screamed her approval to the world.
Once again I am grateful to my Amiga, bea.tricks, for her willingness to trudge through my story in her capacity as BETA-extraordinaire!! I'd also like to thank mumrulz for her ever present support and friendship! You ladies are the cherries on top of my B/B smut sunday.