Alright - this is my tag for 'The Bones That Foamed'. Not as plot-driven as some of my others, as I've had a lot of annoyance and frustration in my life this past week. I wanted something that just made me feel good. Slight spoilers for the episode, and rated M for a reason! A very yummy reason...
ZERO TO SIXTY
Tossing his jacket on the chair, Booth snatched a bottle of beer out of the fridge, flinging the cap in the sink and dropping down on the couch. Several angry chugs later, his anger was only getting hotter. She never listened to him. One thing – one little thing he'd asked of her, no, begged of her, and it was like he'd never said anything at all. He snorted angrily. He couldn't believe she'd even admitted that he was better at something than she was. Man, had she hated admitting that. That was probably why she'd promptly ignored his advice about the car and caused the mother of all traffic jams. That would teach him to let her drive. What the hell had he been thinking? He knew perfectly well that her driving skills were mediocre, at best. Yet he'd let her get behind the wheel of that sweet little ride – a ride he didn't even own. A ride she couldn't even get out of first gear, for Christ's sake. He'd lost his fucking mind. But it might have been okay, if Miss I-Know-Everything-And-I'm-Going-To-Tell-You-All-About-It had stopped to think for one god-damned second.
It wasn't just the smarts, either. It was the shitting logic that she paraded around like it was a trophy. He didn't mind it in theory. In fact, it was an invaluable skill in her line of work, and it had proved pretty damned useful in his, too. Well, in the forensic area of what he did. But at other times? She lorded it over him like some fucking carrot he should be forever seeking for himself. Realizing that the beer wasn't going to be nearly sharp enough for his mood, he reached under the coffee table and twined his fingers around the neck of his favored Glenlivet. The first dram met his mouth like a familiar lover, and almost diffused his temper. Almost. Before he could pour another, a loud crash sounded at the door, and the source of his outrage blasted across the threshold.
"Damn it, Booth!"
His hand, which had automatically palmed his gun, relaxed. He carefully put the safety back on and dropped it on the couch next to him. And just as carefully tossed back another hit of whiskey without a word in response.
"What were you thinking, leaving me there with that car?" Chest heaving, cheeks and eyes flaming, she advanced on him like a fury, fists clenched and at the ready.
Still pissed, he shot a single, blistering glare at her before splashing more scotch into his glass. Before he could grab it, her hand swooped down and she jerked it away from him, spilling most of it in the process. "Hey hey, watch the fucking Scotch, that stuff's expensive!"
"Well, so was the fucking car!"
Surprised to hear such a ripe curse from her, he tuned in and noted with acerbic satisfaction that she was in a rare rage, simply vibrating with anger. "Oh, so now you finally realize that?" The disdain dripped freely from his voice. "Wow, I'd like to know what finally convinced you. Because it sure as hell wasn't anything I said over and over five or ten times!"
Her face burned even hotter with resentment as his insult hit home. "There's no need to be sarcastic. I'm quite aware of the cost of that car."
His bark of laughter hurt her ears. "And how could you possibly know that?"
"Buddy told me, when I returned the car to him. You know, you're very lucky I was able to determine how to drive the car, since you borrowed it. I can only imagine how much trouble you would have been in if it had been damaged. There's no way you can afford that vehicle."
Mouth sulky, he looked away from her. "Yeah, Bones, I get it, we all get it. You're smarter than me. Hell, you're three, no, wait, five times smarter than me! You're a freakin' brainiac. Quantum physics is no problem for you. Listening to other people, well, that's a whole different ball of wax..."
"What?" When it became apparent that he wasn't going to answer him, she stalked around the couch to the other side, staring uncomprehendingly at him. "That makes no sense. You can't determine levels of intelligence like that –"
"Oh, and let's not forget how much more money you make than me. Boy, you said it right; I certainly can't afford that car. I don't make anywhere near the money that you do. You're so much more successful than me."
"What is all this about, Booth? You're being exceedingly illogical tonight, and I don't appreciate it." One long step forward brought her directly in front of him, and she leaned over, scowling down at him. "I don't know what's going on here, Booth, but you better never leave me alone like that again."
That got his attention, and he slowly stood, glowering fiercely at her. "What did you say?" The room was blurry, way too blurry for what he'd swallowed. She was clear, though. Crystal fucking clear, every line and color and texture distinct and razor-sharp.
"You heard me! What is the matter with you?" When he took a step forward, she had no choice but to move in reverse. "What are you doing?"
"I'm being illogical. That's rich. Really, really rich." He kept walking, pleased when she was forced to back up yet again. "You know, it's really something, the way you act like your precious fucking logic is the be-all and end-all, like if I'm not completely logical at all times I'm a flawed human being. But you know what? I'm not the one who's flawed. You are."
"Have you gone insane? There's nothing wrong with me!" Nothing wrong with her except the fact that he was still coming closer and she was still retreating. She didn't retreat, not for anyone. But the problem with standing her ground quickly became apparent when Booth took another step and bumped against her. Suddenly retreat began to seem like a good idea.
"You think so? I disagree. I mean, you said it yourself at the bar tonight. You're not good with people. In fact, most times you're terrible with them." He shoved another half-inch closer, crowding her like his drill sergeant had crowded him back in the day. "I, however, am excellent with people. You admitted as much."
Not sure where this was going, but certain it wouldn't be anyplace she'd want to wind up, she stubbornly remained mute. When he pushed against her again, she felt herself begin to tip and quickly stepped back yet again, this time to avoid falling. Her back hit his map wall with a solid thump, and the unfurled charts rattled nervously.
"You had a lesson with Sweets, but I gotta tell ya, it didn't take too well. Maybe I can give you a lesson. See, this is how it works. I initiate a conversation with someone. Say, you, for instance." He grabbed her lapels the very moment she shifted sideways and yanked her back, pulling her jacket halfway off in the process. "Right there. I knew you were going to do that, because I can read you. Like one of those excellent books you write. I read them, and I read you. Ah ah ah," he admonished, tightening his grip on the thick cotton and holding her in place, "I'm not done yet."
She thought furiously. This was not going well at all. With her arms tangled in her coat she couldn't gain enough leverage to push off of the wall. But maybe she could gain another type of leverage. "I understand you're angry, Booth –"
"Don't even bother. You suck at negotiation; you always have. Remember the sheriff?" He shook his head slowly, an angry, pitying expression on his face as he glanced down at her arm. "Didn't go too well. Now where was I? Oh yeah. In the course of the conversation, I start to slip questions in, only not always in the form of a question. Subtlety, Bones. Something you know nothing about. And when I slip the questions in, I get answers. Answers you didn't even know you were giving to me. I watch you, too. Your body language and your face. You play your cards close to the vest, but I know what you're holding. The house always has the advantage, Bones. I told you that once, but I think you forgot." His lips quirked humorlessly. "Your mistake."
Her temper began to build again; her blood to boil even harder. Her efforts to free herself were completely unsuccessful, however, and uncertainty began to rise when he laughed; a short rancorous chuckle that shook her. "I don't know what you hope to get from this display of force, but I can assure you –"
"What I hope to get is you to hold still." Something in her expression caught his attention, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You're second-guessing yourself, aren't you? I can see it in your face. What are you thinking, Bones? What's going on in there? I'm curious about something. How is it that with all that densely-packed grey matter in there, the things I say to you go in one ear and out the other, huh? How is that? You know, one of these days I'm gonna say something really important, and you'll miss it 'cause you'll be so busy thinking."
She knew that he was saying something important now, something vital, and she was missing it, just like he'd said. Frustrated, she began to struggle in earnest. She had to get free, had to gain the upper hand somehow. His forward lunge and her gasp were simultaneous, and she was shocked at the sensation of him hard against her. Her heart began to tremble, and she fought to hide it, to erase it. "Booth. I don't want to hurt you, but I will, if you don't let me go."
Wrapping his hands more securely around the fabric, he slid them behind her back, drawing her arms behind her as well. "And now you're bluffing. Sometimes you forget that I specialized in more than just firearms. I also excelled in special-ops hand to hand combat. You're not going anywhere." He watched the emotions spread across her face, and pressed his advantage. "But then, you weren't about to leave, were you? I see everything, Bones. Haven't you figured that out yet?" Scanning her, he cataloged the widening of her eyes, the hitch in her breathing, and his eyes drifted, drawn downward against his will. When he looked at her again, something hot and lethal had sprung into his eyes. "You know what? I'm tired of talking. I have all the evidence I need." He slammed his mouth against hers, his lips hungrily taking, taking, and before he broke away for air he knew he was right. "All I need now is a confession." He took her lips again, softly this time, drawing her tongue out to play sensuously with his, sucking and nibbling at her jaw, her throat.
She strained desperately against him, answering with total abandon. Her arms were still trapped behind her; he was crushing her against the wall. And she didn't care. At all. A dark, perverse thrill ran through her when he refused to release her wrists, clasping them both in one large hand. Amazingly dexterous, he plucked nimbly at her buttons, and the shirt edges gaped open when she writhed against his questing fingers. Her response was wild, involuntary; if her brain hadn't wanted this she still would've responded to him. Whether or not he gave her a choice, she knew she had none. The only answer she wanted was hard against every inch of her.
Running his lips over her throat drew a delicious purr from her, and he indulged himself with a taste, closing his teeth over her sensitive skin. Her back was forced into a seductive bend, her eyes slitting closed as he toyed with her. The front clasp on her bra made things just that much easier, and he dealt with it easily, dragging his tongue across her nipple and causing her to arch even harder. Her moan bounced off the walls and floor and came back to him slightly altered, almost as if several women were in the room. But he only wanted one. This one. He was tired of the fighting and the struggle for dominance and the game playing. He wanted her, and he was going to have her. And damned if they wouldn't both feel a hell of a lot better afterward.
She wanted her hands, needed them. Needed them so she could touch him. "Let go, let go…" The minute he complied, she grabbed his hair and pulled him to her, welcoming his embrace with an almost primal moan. Heat was crashing off his body in waves, scorching her. She welcomed it, opened herself to the burn. He was right; he knew her. He knew her like no one else ever had. She wasn't going anywhere. She whined in bitter disappointment when he broke the kiss, but hissed with satisfaction as he buried his face against her chest, nuzzled and suckled her skin. As long as he never stopped, never left, she didn't care what happened. Didn't care what he did to her. Fuck logic. This was everything. Her trembling, sensitive stomach registered the feel of him fumbling with her zipper. It was taking him much too long, and she darted one hand down, her fingers working in tandem with his until they were shoving her pants down. She tripped on them as they bunched at her ankles, would've fallen if he wasn't holding her so tightly. Finally she managed to free one foot. One was all she needed. Locking one slender leg around his waist, she went to work on his jeans, ripping at them furiously until the buttons gave. With a cry of triumph, she reached for her prize.
"Oh my God, Bones. Yes." She'd pulled him out and was fisting him, her lovely logical fingers causing an uncontrollable wildfire throughout his entire system. Curling his own hand around her satin panties, he gave a sharp tug and split the fabric in two. She was too good at this, at him – she'd turned the tables on him, hell, she'd flipped the goddamned tables end over end and broken off all the legs, and if he didn't get inside her soon he'd be forced to beg. Luckily, she was as desperate as he was, if her writhing body was any indication. Gripping her ass, he plucked her off her feet – or foot, since one long calf was digging into his back, and damn, she had fucking amazing muscle control – and bore down, entering her that first critical inch. The light sneaking through the slats at the window barred her face, glinting in her eyes. Her wide, glassy, almost crazed eyes. She gyrated around him, caressing him without ever lifting a finger. He was suddenly frozen, unable to move for looking at her, taking in her breathtaking beauty as they hovered on the edge of everything. Her hips flexed, drawing him in another inch, and he groaned into her mouth while she nibbled at him. "Ah, Bones, what are you doing to me…"
She bit down; a particularly firm nip. Her lip trembled in a sultry sneer. "I'm telling you what you wanted to know. Don't you see it? This," she whispered as she bucked her hips again, "is my confession." Whatever she might have said next turned into a hoarse cry as he slid the rest of the way into her. Shuddering in reaction, her body tightened in reaction to his erotic presence. When she looked into his eyes, she almost recoiled in fresh shock. She knew now that he would take all from her. He would accept nothing less. She was open to him, in every possible way, and his for the taking. And yet, she couldn't help but bait him, one last time. "Go ahead – make me talk."
Pressing her back into the wall again, he thrust into her several times in quick succession, thrilling to her helpless moans and gasps as he worked against her, yet with her. Somehow, he found her wrists again, and quickly pinned her arms back once more. "Oh yeah, babe, you're gonna tell me everything." He picked up his tempo, sliding into her with renewed vigor. "Everything I want to know and more."
He only pumped harder, snarling at her. "Don't tell me what to do. Babe." The pace was killing him, she was killing him. He'd never last. But he'd goddamned make it fucking memorable. Surging into her almost violently, he bit her lip and reveled in her breathless demands. Her feet were digging into his ass, her tangled pants slapping wildly against his legs and driving him crazy. "You're not in charge here."
"Oh…neither are you…" But he was. She knew he was. And she loved it. More, she had to have more. She arched frantically against him, hands flexing uselessly, leg muscles screaming in protest, pain merging completely with pleasure and stealing what was left of her breath. "Oh, shit…"
"Uh-uh, babe. This is…ah, yeah…your confession. Don't lie to me." He tightened his grip on her, driving inside her even harder, forcing a surprised grunt from her. "I'll know if you lie." Unblinking eyes stared into unblinking eyes. One taking, one taken. She was tightening around him, she was nearly there, and he planned on being there with her. His hips pistoned him brutally into her, harsh, rasping gasps boiling from his lungs and searing her skin. His head dropped forward onto her shoulder, his rhythm becoming choppy and uncontrolled.
"Don't you dare stop…ah…now…" Her head was banging against the wall, against the maps, her hips were aching terribly, and she couldn't care less. "If you stop I'll kill you…oh…ah…I swear it." Before she knew what was happening, his teeth dug into her shoulder, and his hand released her wrists and streaked down between them, ruthlessly stroking and twisting and caressing her. A burning shriek shredded her throat, followed by another, as she rode him and his hand into sweet oblivion, her body clenching tight, bound to him, her hands scoring his back.
Dazed, head spinning and gut churning, he knew she was truly giving him everything, and holding nothing back. With a sense of almost profound relief, he felt her gather and convulse around him, and he came with a roar, shoving her slick body hard against the wall, pouring everything he had into her, his body, his mind, his heart. He rocked against her for several minutes, drawing their pleasure out, lengthening it, until her shudders turned to tremors, her moans to sighs.
Finally, he stilled, leaning against her, unable to move an inch. Someday. Eventually. At some point he'd move, maybe even try the chivalrous thing and attempt to not drop her on the floor. When he could breathe again. When he could see again.
Somehow, at the sound of her raspy, throaty question, he found the strength to raise his head and look at her. She was clearly exhausted, most likely as ridiculously sore as he was, if not more. But her eyes were gleaming wickedly, and the lift at the corner of her mouth meant that maybe she wasn't about to kick his ass for going all alpha on her. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it – he wasn't an idiot. That was the best fucking sex he'd ever had. Bar none. Oh yeah - she'd enjoyed herself, or his name wasn't…what the hell was it, again? Shit. "What?"
She wiggled against him with what little strength she had left, more than pleased with his instant response. "Do you believe me?" A completely feminine, supremely satisfied smile grew in response to the weary grin he threw at her as he slid his lips against hers, rubbed his body against hers. "I guess you do." Locking her arms and legs around him, she leaned in and seized his lower lip with her teeth. "You think you can make it to the bed? I promise I'll make it worth your while…"
His system began to rev again, more quickly than he would ever have thought possible. It was her fault; all her fault. And she'd have to pay for that. Clutching her to him, he stood and began to make his wobbling way toward his bedroom. "I think there's still some gas left in the tank."
She rolled her eyes disapprovingly at him. "Okay, even I know what that means." Her laughter trailed them down the hall, cut off abruptly by the gentle click of a door latch.
Well, now I think I might be able to survive one day of work. Maybe if I imagine that angry Booth is at home waiting for me...nope. Won't get ANY work done THAT way...sigh. Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks so much for reading.