OK, here we go! This one is a serious labor of love. First off, it's my first foray into M rated content. But please know this isn't purely smut fic. It also isn't just an angst fic, although there will be a healthy dose of it. It isn't fluff, it isn't just romance. This, my friends, is a LOVE story. And when we are talking Booth and Brennan, well...all of the above is included. I hope that this story tugs at your hearts, makes you laugh, makes you cry, makes you cheer for our favorite dynamic duo. It will be a rough journey for these two, but I have a feeling, if you stick with me for the ride, it will be well worth it. I really hope you enjoy this first chapter.
Thank you to all who encourage me. I love your reviews and I hope this lives up to your expectations!
And especially to Heather (hpaich) because you are an awesome beta and friend. I still hate that you get eps three hours ahead of me though! I didn't end any sentences in prepositions (I think!). Call it an early b-day present!
The knowing was the worst part.
It kept her senses heightened to a torturous level of awareness. Now that her body possessed an intimate knowledge of him, it wasn't about to let her mind forget it.
She tried though. Oh, how she tried. She focused all of her considerably impressive mental prowess onto the tasks at hand – identifying bodies from bone storage, interviewing suspects, teaching grad students, catching bad guys. But with each day that went by, it would become a heavier and heavier burden to bear.
She would feel his presence as he came into the lab; each hair on the back of her neck standing up in recognition even before her eyes had identified his form. A whiff of his cologne would send her into a tailspin of yearning. A heated glance would cause her mouth to dry up and an insatiable craving to take up residence in the pit of her stomach.
Well, it was almost insatiable.
Part of the knowing was the knowledge that he could give her reprieve. Like an addict that struggled to quit their drug of choice, she kept quitting Seeley Booth – only to return again and again. She sounded just like the teenage suspect that they had interviewed last week. Her parents christened her Samantha, but she went by Sammy. Sammy was a meth head. She had explained how badly she wanted off of the drug, but had told Booth and Brennan that there was no hope for her.
"I just did it once, man. Just one time, and that's all it took."
Brennan had made a serious error of judgment all those many months ago when she had decided there was no harm in seducing her partner of four years. After all, she just wanted a child. It was a simple matter of procreation – nothing more.
But it had only taken one time. And now here she was, just like Sammy, feeling like there was no hope for her situation. She would go as long as possible before the withdrawals set in so severely that her ability to function normally became compromised. She would wait until her senses were so abuzz with need that there was no choice.
After the first time, she had made it almost four months. One hundred and sixteen days to be exact. He had been shocked when she had shown up at his apartment that night. At that moment, she had never been more grateful for his ability to read her. He simply swung his door open and never asked her any questions.
Since then, she had never managed to make it that far again. The last time had only been twenty-seven days.
And now she sat in her car, listening to the steady plunk of the raindrops as they pelted the vehicle's roof. She had killed the engine over five minutes ago, and the water was blurring the view through the windshield. It didn't matter though – she knew where she was. She just couldn't seem to force herself into action. Her mind wouldn't concede either way. Leave…or go in.
Today was only day twelve.
She leaned forward, resting her head against the steering column. She had never considered herself a weak woman, but when it came to this want she had, she felt truly powerless to stop it. It disgusted her, and yet she still couldn't shake it. Biologically, the need to mate was a simple fact of life. It didn't bother her that she experienced that need just as other members of the species did. However, the fact that she seemed incapable of controlling her desires – of even shifting their focus onto a more suitable partner – had caused a level of self-loathing that was certainly justified.
She reached out to grasp the keys and turn them in the ignition. She could do this. He was just a man. But her body was traitorous and she found her hand removing the keys instead.
This would be the last time. After tonight, she would find a solution. The holidays were coming up – maybe she would get away. Go somewhere where she could focus on her first love. In fact, she had received a request from Dr. Maiba Mensah a couple weeks ago. She was the leading forensic anthropologist in South Africa, and had presented Brennan with a very enticing proposition.
This was the thought that spurred her to action. She grabbed her purse from the seat next to hers and opened the car door. As she stepped out into the rain, she felt the first sense of control in this whole situation. Yes, she would give in tonight. But she had a plan. This would be the last time, because tomorrow she would start making her arrangements, and soon she would be a world away where her thoughts could clear and her addiction could be broken.
She shut the car door and locked it with the keychain remote before dropping her keys into her purse and heading for the building in front of her. His living room light was on, so he was still up. She would knock, he would answer, and he would provide the relief that she so desperately needed. In fact, her steps quickened at the thought, propelling her greedily toward her fix. Once she stood in front of his door, she raised her knuckles without hesitation. She was a woman that knew her own mind, and no man - not even Seeley Booth - was going to make her forget it.
Her knock was answered quickly, the door pulled back to reveal Booth in the evening wear she was now becoming very familiar with. Her mouth practically watered at the sight of the low-slung grey sweatpants. These were her favorite because experience had taught her that one little tug on the drawstring, and they would pool easily around his ankles. The constant throb at her center was now turning into the sweetest ache, and she had to resist the urge to press her thighs together. This wasn't going to take long at all.
He stepped back, allowing her to walk inside. With practiced efficiency, she put her purse on the little table in the entryway, and then removed her jacket. As she did this, her eyes locked with Booth's. She couldn't help the deep sense of satisfaction that she felt when he watched her unbutton her jacket. His eyes burned into hers and his throat worked up and down as he swallowed. This would be good for him too, she knew.
So it was with tremendous surprise that she felt his hands encircle her wrists as she reached for him. He held them firmly between their bodies, not allowing her arms to rise. It was as she looked down at her hands with confusion etched on her face that he spoke.
"Bones…What are you doing here?"
Her confusion quickly turned into panic. He wasn't supposed to talk, and he certainly wasn't supposed to ask her a question like that. How could she possibly answer? 'I'm here to have sex with you?' Besides, wasn't that the obvious answer anyway? She thought briefly that maybe he was joking with her. The subtleties of humor were often lost to her, so it was possible that she had missed the laughable portion of this exchange. One look at his face though was enough to dismiss all thoughts of a joke. There was no hint of a smile, and his eyes bore into hers with a level of intensity that was all seriousness. It took her a moment to find her voice since she hadn't intended on using it for conversation tonight. To her chagrin, it came out sounding hesitant and uncertain.
"What am I doing here?" Surely she could come up with something better than throwing his own question back in his face. "I would think the answer was obvious."
That was better. Even if she could almost hear Sweets' voice in her head telling her that she was deflecting, at least the ball was in his court now.
For the longest moment, Booth continued to simply stare at her. It was unnerving, to say the least. Being on the receiving end of Booth's interrogation face was worse than being stripped naked, because she could almost believe that he could somehow read her secrets. It took every ounce of willpower that she had to continue to meet his gaze. Finally, he spoke again.
"I want to hear you say it."
His words came out like a caress, intimate and demanding as the question settled between them. She should just answer him – tell him what she wanted. Be the direct and precisely articulate woman she normally was. But she couldn't…she just couldn't. What the hell was she doing here? Her rationalizations suddenly made no sense to her.
Booth must have sensed that she was panicking, because he released one of her wrists and slid his hand up to her shoulder, where he let his thumb brush against her collarbone. The simple touch grounded her slightly, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Booth continued; his voice anointing her senses and triggering her fight or flight response.
"I never ask anything of you, Bones." He looked intently at his hand as he moved it to run his knuckles softly over the bone his thumb had traced. "Every time you show up, I let you take what you need without any questions." Even though he was hardly speaking above a whisper, the words pounded through her body like a drum. She was both mesmerized and startled. "Tonight, I need to hear you say it." He slipped the hand on her shoulder behind her neck, placing his fingertips on the pulse point he found there. This time his thumb found her jaw. "Do you understand, Bones? I need to hear it…"
It was too much. This, whatever this was, it was too much. She was overwhelmed and frustrated at having been put on the spot. She had no answer for him, and almost cried aloud when she felt her eyes begin to well with tears. Tonight was supposed to be easy. She certainly hadn't planned on crying. The tear that finally spilled over was her undoing. As she felt it slip down her cheek, she gasped and pulled herself away from him. Her violent reaction must have surprised him, because she was able to break free. She spun toward the door, reaching for her coat and purse.
She heard him curse right before she felt his hands grab her upper arms from behind her. He pressed his face into her neck, stilling her movements.
"I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry." His lips fell on the spot where her shoulder met the curve of her neck. "You don't have to say anything." He removed his hands from her arms, wrapping them around her waist instead; pressing the palms into her stomach. Tears were flowing freely now, and she swiped furiously at her face.
"Please don't go."
How dare he be so self-sacrificing? This wasn't about pleasing the other person, it was about satisfying a basic need. She can't give him the one thing he asks, and so he apologizes to her? Maybe she needed to remind him of why she was here, in case he was forgetting. This was about sex. She might not be able to vocalize it, but she could certainly show him.
She rounded on him swiftly, twisting in his embrace. She pressed her lips hungrily against his while using her hands to clutch him against her. He was the antidote to whatever poison was running rampant through her, and the quicker it was administered, the sooner she would feel better. She was passionate and demanding, leaving no room to wonder at her intentions.
But he was having none of it.
Where her actions were full of intent and purpose, his were soft and gentle. Rather than allow her to set the pace, Booth broke free of the kiss and pulled back to gaze at her. She opened her still watery blue eyes and was met again by the same intense stare from a few minutes ago. She found herself involuntarily holding her breath while he wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks. The gesture was far too intimate for her liking, and so she reached for the buttons on the front of her blouse. Before she could get past the top one though, he had covered her hands with his own – stilling them instantly.
How could she explain to him that she needed to just get this done with? That she was ashamed of the weakness within her that caused her to seek him out over and over? How did she tell him that the faster she acted, the less time she had for thinking? Instead, she leaned forward and latched her mouth against his neck, right where past encounters had taught her he liked it best. Running her tongue along the inner perimeter of her lips, she was pleased to hear the soft groan that he emitted in response.
She whispered her response against his skin. "There's no reason to prolong what we both want."
She licked the same spot and then gave it a hard suck before releasing his flesh and leaning back to gauge the effect she was having. His breath was definitely coming quicker, and his eyes were shut. But just as she was thinking that she was going to be the victor in this little cat and mouse game, he opened his eyes and caught her within his sights. Leaning forward slowly, he trailed his lips along the shell of her ear, where he stopped to whisper.
The delicious chill his words caused was enough to freeze her actions momentarily, and he used the lull to run his cheek slowly along her jaw. She could feel the faintest amount of stubble brushing her face, the small hairs that had grown since Booth had shaved that morning. For some reason, it was an incredibly erotic sensation and she could only stand there, waiting for him to release her from whatever spell he was casting. Once his mouth reached hers, he captured her lips again. But this time, he set the pace and she was powerless to stop him.
She could feel the tears pricking her eyes once more as Booth launched an assault of epic tenderness in the form of a kiss. He had cupped her face with his hands, and he was applying gentle pressure to keep her mouth right where he wanted it. The kiss was slow…torturously so. And when he finally parted his lips and reached his tongue out to caress the recesses of her mouth, she thought she might actually start crying again.
This was all too much. She couldn't take it, and yet she couldn't stop it. Her hands were fisted tightly in the front of his tank top, all of the tension she was feeling being channeled into her white-knuckled grip. But her lips were responding to him despite her desire to hurry him along. Something about this was too sweet to be rushed, but she couldn't understand why. Instead, she ran her tongue along the length of his, coming together again and again until they were both shaking with need.
Booth was the first to pull away, gasping for breath as he rested his forehead against hers. This was not their usual course of action, and he seemed to be struggling with the intensity of the kiss just as much as she was. It was a small comfort.
No no no…No time for thinking. No time for first names. She grabbed his hand, tugging on it in an attempt to get his attention. Whatever he was going to say, she knew that he shouldn't. So she spoke instead.
"Let's take this to your room."
He actually seemed slightly relieved to have been interrupted. Good. The last thing they needed was for him to say something that couldn't be unsaid later. He followed her willingly, and once inside the sanctuary of his bedroom, he allowed her to pull his shirt up and over his head, lifting his arms to aid in the process.
The little bit of light from the street outside fell on Booth's newly exposed torso, revealing all of the planes and angles that she gloried in touching. She slid her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and down his sides; exploring the skin as she attempted to map it to memory. If this would be the last time she allowed herself this level of gratification, then she felt the sudden compulsion to remember each detail. Wherever her hands went, her lips followed. The soft hisses that he let slip whenever she touched a particularly sensitive spot was proof that he was enjoying this as much as she. As her hands came back around to his waist, she reached for the drawstring that held his pants to his hips.
He intercepted her hands yet again, this time encircling both of her wrists with his fingers. He pulled them away, drawing them up behind her where he held them against the small of her back. Dipping his head to her neck, he started trailing soft kisses along its curve while he pressed his thighs against hers. The pressure of his legs along with the terrifying gentleness of his lips caused her to stumble back until her calves ran into the bed. He matched her step for step until she could go no further.
This was spiraling out of control, and she could feel the intense desire to give in to it. It was taking all of her focus to fight it, but he was robbing her of what precious little was left. Each kiss, every caress left her feeling further out of sorts. It was becoming harder for her to remember what she was doing here. Wasn't she here to satisfy a biological urge? If that was so, then why was he the one controlling the pace? Why was she getting the distinct impression that he was after something else, and that he was taking it against her will?
He still held her hands behind her back, and with nowhere else to go, she was trapped. It was maddening – infuriating even – and yet she couldn't control the moan that escaped her mouth as he licked his way over the pulse behind her ear. Her hips gave an involuntary jerk, the sweet friction only enough to enflame her further.
"Bones." He whispered her name so softly - almost reverently - into her ear before releasing her hands and cupping her face again. He kissed her with a tenderness that quickly laid waste to the foundations of her common sense. It was there again, that feeling of sinking into something much bigger then she understood. She couldn't fight this, or she would be destroyed. Instead, she did the logical thing under the circumstances. The last conscious act that she could make.
She snaked her arms up around his neck, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head while the other met the warm skin of his upper back. She opened her mouth, inviting him into her. He growled his approval and stroked his tongue against hers while reaching for the buttons on her blouse. One by one, they popped free of their respective buttonholes, revealing a slim line of skin from her neck to her waist.
He continued to kiss her as he trailed the back of his hand down the newly exposed flesh, causing goose bumps to spring up in his wake. On the return trip, his hands brushed across the top of her breasts – pinkies tracing the place where black lace met creamy skin. Her shirt gave way to his hands, and a gentle shrug had it slipping silently to the floor.
She arched her back, pressing her flesh more firmly into his palms. She was craving the skin to skin contact, and wrapped her arms around him once more. He was driving her crazy with this slow pace. Her nipples were stretched taught against the fabric of her bra, waiting to be released. Her thighs were pressed together in an effort to provide some modicum of relief. In a hazy, far off part of her brain, she vaguely recalled him comparing making love to driving a sports car. Slow and gentle he had said. She had argued that passionate was more her style.
She now understood that you could be both. He was taking his time, but there was certainly no lack of passion.
Everywhere he touched she felt branded. The heat of his hands, mouth, and skin marked the territory of her body as surely as a surveyor mapped the terrain. When he finally eased her back onto the mattress, she almost cried aloud with relief. She reached down to undo the zipper on her jeans, but he returned her hands to his chest.
"Let me." She was too far gone to even care that he was telling her what to do. She would do anything if it meant gaining release from this torture.
He grasped each ankle - one at a time - and removed her shoes and socks. He gave each slender joint a kiss before moving his hands up her legs, slowly dragging his fingertips along the denim. He passed her knees and continued up the inside of her thighs until he reached the hot core of her. With deliberate care, he brushed along the seam until he found the zipper.
She was whimpering now, a sound that would have shocked her had she been aware of it. She still had her pants on, and yet the press of his finger on her had caused an embarrassing amount of pleasure. It was all too willingly that she lifted her hips to help him slide the pants off after he popped the button. This time when he ran his hands up her legs, there was nothing but a thin scrap of black between her and the hands she craved.
He paused before his hands reached their destination and leaned down to place a kiss just above her belly button. She was delirious with desire, her head shaking back and forth as she clutched at the sheets.
"Please Booth. Please." She didn't really even know what she was begging for, but she knew that he had the answer.
She almost cried out in frustration as his hands moved to her waist and he brought his body up. She thrust her hips urgently against him, but he caught her lips for another kiss.
Never had she experienced anything like this. Whatever this was, it consumed her. It demanded that nothing be held back, and she found that her body was responding on more than a simple biological level. There was an emotional component. No matter how she might try to deny it, she could feel that it was more than her flesh that was yearning for him. She didn't have the strength to will it away right now. She would have to do it later, after her body had received its fix.
One of his hands was now playing at her sides, cataloging each rib as they slid up and down. Each stroke brought his fingers higher until she was breathless with the need to feel them where she wanted. Her chest heaved for air, but she felt that she needed him even more. She was certain by now that he was going to continue the slow attack of his hands, and so she cried out when he suddenly tore his lips from her mouth and quickly latched them to her breast. The thin material was no match for him, and she fisted her hands in his hair to please, oh please just keep him there for a moment longer.
She was rewarded when he pulled her bra down and immediately returned his tongue to her. Laving and suckling, he had her writhing under him, barely audible pleas dripping from her mouth with a litany of cries, pants, and gasps. She was losing all control, in a way that she had never experienced before. She was completely beside herself, not knowing if she was crying for simple release or something more.
He lavished the same attention on the other breast, giving it a slight nip that caused her to jerk forward. He moved back to kick free of his sweatpants and boxers and she took the opportunity to pull her underwear away. He gave her a disapproving look, but she barely registered it. All of her focus was on the need to have him inside her right now.
But of course he wasn't about to comply as quickly as she wanted. He kissed his way up her body, stopping here and there to pay special attention to a particular spot – her knees, hip, stomach, breasts, collarbone…until he pressed his mouth to hers once again. She could feel him poised at her entrance, but he held himself apart from her despite the desperate way she arched into him.
She hardly knew that she was talking, even as the words left her mouth. "Booth…Booth…What are you doing to me?"
He waited for her to open her eyes and look at him before he answered. He panted his words. "Physics lesson."
He stroked into her then, his answer combining with the sudden feel of him. The combination caused her to keen with the incredible feelings washing over her. As he took up a steady, deliberate rhythm, she couldn't handle it anymore. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally welled up, slipping down her cheeks even as she started to chant mindlessly with pleasure. Somewhere, she registered that he was whispering to her - the words incoherent, but the sincerity of his voice a testament to the effect their joining had on him.
The tears continued to fall as she turned her head and bit her lip. The spring in her belly was coiled impossibly tight and she felt that there was no way to survive once it finally snapped.
"Look at me."
The command came out clearly, and she obeyed without thinking. The intensity was back in his eyes as they bored into hers. She could tell that he was struggling to keep them open, just as she was. But they locked gazes and held silently to one another – an unspoken communication. He increased the pace but maintained an agonizing control that had her begging him for release. Her cries of "Please…Please" were joined with his hoarse curses.
Her eyes must have told him she was there, because he dipped his head and swallowed her cries as she came apart, shattering like glass all around him. His own words of release were vibrating in her mouth as he worked his hips, eventually losing control of the careful pace he had set.
The world was slow to return, each new sound and sensation adding itself to the last, one on top of another. The sound of their labored breathing. The coolness of the sweat that was pooled between her breasts. The weight of the man above her. When he finally lifted himself from her, reality settled heavily in his place. She snapped her eyes tightly shut because she couldn't bear to look at him. Not after what had just happened. Everything was crashing in around her like a tidal wave, surge after devastating surge. Her only thought was to escape. She needed room to breathe. He was lying beside her, and she couldn't help her reaction as she felt him place a soft kiss on her shoulder.
She jumped up, pulling the sheet with her. She held it tightly to her body, a flimsy form of protection as she searched franticly for her clothes. He must have been shocked because it took him a moment to respond.
"Bones, what are you doing?"
There were her jeans, and her underwear was right next to them.
"Looking for my shirt."
She quickly shimmied into her pants, but balled the underwear up and jammed them in her pocket. They were not wearable. Maybe her shirt was under the bed?
His voice sounded accusatory and hurt. "You're just gonna leave?"
She took a deep breath. Focus on the task at hand…getting dressed and getting out of here. Something happened here tonight, and she didn't understand what. She needed to get away before she broke down and embarrassed herself further. Her desperation to do so was bordering on panic.
There it was, peeking out from under the bed. She rearranged her bra and shrugged into her blouse. As she buttoned it quickly, she answered. Her reply sounded harsh even to her ears. "Of course. You and I both know why I came here, and now we're done."
It was a lie though. She didn't know anything anymore.
As she rose up from putting on her socks and shoes, his arm snaked out – his fingers wrapping around her wrist.
The tears almost started again. He had never asked her to stay before, and the tone of his voice made it clear that he was all but begging her.
She choked out her answer, never even looking at him.
"I can't." Quickly, before he could stop her again, she slipped free and headed to the door.
"You can't, or you wont?"
She paused only a few seconds before continuing out into the hall. The only sound to echo back to him was that of the front door opening and closing softly behind her.
Some of you know that Brennan is very difficult for me to write. I figured there was no better way to overcome that obstacle then to just jump in and tackle it. I hope it rang true. When it comes to falling in love, I can see it going both ways for her. In the past, I've written it easier. A more accepting Brennan. But I can also see her fighting tooth and nails against it - afraid of what she thinks it would mean for her. Poor Booth! Hang in there! She'll come around!
Ok, please take a moment to tell me what you think!