A/N: I am officially joining the B&B smut community. This is explicit; you have been warned.
I don't own Bones.
As Tony and Roxy
He had imagined their first time more than he'd care to admit since the early days of their partnership. It was something he dreamed about, one of his most persistent fantasies; the single most satisfying fantasy. He told himself that this fantasy only seemed more potent because she was the proverbial forbidden fruit. They were Booth and Brennan, cop and scientist, partners in [solving] crime. Their relationship was purely professional.
Tony and Roxy were anything but professional.
Tony was a freewheeling, smooth-talking, ex-army man. And Roxy was the devil's schoolteacher, all sexy fire and naughty schoolteacher charm. Tony and Roxy were nothing like Booth and Brennan. They were together, in every sense of the word, and lacking in all inhibition. Booth knew that it would be dangerous for them to play such a couple; knew how hard it could be to leave an adopted persona at the door, especially when your alter-ego was free to do the very things that you ached for, but he hadn't had much of a choice, and it had felt so damn good to play opposite his partner; to proclaim to the world that this amazing woman was his and his alone, even if it was all just an illusion.
Their first evening as hot high rollers found them in Brennan's hotel suite with Agents Zhang and Sugarman, discussing ways to infiltrate and destroy the group of organized criminals responsible for at least two homicides. After they had talked long into the night, it was easy to fall back into being Booth and Bones. They still sported Tony and Roxy's suspenders and cherry red lipstick (respectively), but the extensive shop talk at the end of the night had them both exhausted and more than well aware of exactly who they were. Booth left that night after a beer (to take the edge off of the pain in his jaw) and a simple goodnight to Brennan.
His dreams were of Brennan or Roxy; it was hard to tell because while she wore the tight black dress and heels that he had chosen for her, she was the Brennan he had come to know and love and trust. In his dreams he had gotten into bed with his sexed-up best friend rather than the stranger who looked like her. The details had faded fast when he woke the next morning, but that distinction seemed important for some reason.
The second night had been vastly different. They had solved the murders, cracked the case as Booth and Brennan, but they had never really dropped their assumed identities. Booth felt Tony's very real boxing injuries, and Brennan acutely felt Roxy's desire to tend to and soothe his pain. They both felt the rush of adrenaline that had come from their night of espionage and danger, and that tide had not ebbed by the time they made it back to the hotel, this time to Booth's much smaller room.
They were both very aware of the one another, hypersensitive to the other presence in the room. Neither was sure who would really break character first and the uncertainty was somewhat nerve wracking. Room service on the bed felt like a date when they didn't talk about anything case-related, or even fall into their regular bickering. And, of course, because Brenan insisted on blowing some of her recent winnings, buying them ridiculously expensive bottles of alcohol- champagne for dinner and scotch for afterwards.
They'd both had more than enough to drink, though they weren't yet to incapable of making coherent decisions.
Booth slung an arm low around Brennan's shoulders. "So what was the other reason you bet on me tonight? Knew that I was just too damn good too lose?"
"You know, it's a very good thing that our undercover operation required you to play someone cocky. I'm not sure you could tone it down even if our lives depended on it."
"Aw, come on Rox. You know you love it."
She'd looked at him then, seeing the mirth and the…lust in his eyes when he called her that. It wasn't the first time she'd recognized that look in his eyes. Nor was it the first time she'd wanted to follow them, see just where that particular path might lead. However, it was the first time that she'd reacted to it with a fire all her own, meeting his bet and raising.
"Wouldn't be with ya if I didn't, Tony. So, is there anything more…exciting that this body can do?" She placed a hand on his chest, fire-engine-red nails splayed lightly over one of his many bruises.
He looked like he wanted to protest, to tell her that taking down a man practically twice his size was pretty damned exciting, but defending his ego just wasn't as important as answering the invitation he heard in her voice.
"Pretty sure you wouldn't be with me if there wasn't, Roxy." And then, because he certainly wouldn't fold when she had raised the stakes, he tugged her closer. She could feel his warm breath, still a little ragged from the pain of his bruised ribs, coasting over her cheeks, defining her lips, her chin. "You crave the" his lips finally pressed against the corner of her mouth, soft and warm, "excitement" and then his lips were completely covering hers, and she barely had time to register what was happening before his tongue was sliding over her lower lip, demanding entrance into her mouth.
It was a betting game. Neither was willing to give in, to allow the other to call the bluff, but each also unsure of victory. Somewhere, beneath the façades of Tony and Roxy, and through the haze of alcohol, they realized that this had the potential to change everything, and that they were taking a risk, gambling their partnership, perhaps even their careers. But they'd both gambled enough to know that taking these kinds of risks could also reap enormous rewards. And so they went all in.
Their tongues danced together, but soon it wasn't enough for him, and he was nipping at her lower lip and along her jaw, even as he pushed her back on the bed, following her down.
She met him eagerly, straining her neck up toward him when his lips left hers to suck on his own flesh. He tasted like cinnamon and sweat, and she was heady with way every part of him filled her senses. She let out a little gasp as he sucked on the hollow at the base of her throat, and he thought he would go crazy at the way the littlest sound she made had the potential to make him even harder than he already was.
He growled, a feral sound, pulling the straps of her dress from her shoulders to expose the matching bra underneath- a bra which covered very little and really only served to push her breasts up toward him.
But deep down, he wasn't Tony. And Booth wasn't going to take this without at least somehow asking permission. As he tore his eyes away from her beautiful chest, which was pleasantly flushed with desire, to meet her gaze, he opened his mouth to ask if this was really ok, to call her Bones so that she knew just who he was taking to bed. But the question died on his lips when she suddenly sat up, dress pooling around her waist, grabbed the front of his wifebeater and pulled him towards her, blue eyes dark as the desert sky with desire.
"Show me what you've got, Tiger." It was a little cliché, maybe, but he was so far gone that he was pretty sure anything she said at that point would turn him on.
He grabbed the red fabric around her and slipped it out from under her as she raised her hips off of the bed to help the process. "You've got it, babe."
He leaned back on his knees for a moment, just to drink in the sight of her basking, glowing in the light of their sudden heat. Brennan might have been embarrassed, may have covered up. But Roxy was brazen and stretched her long, lithe body under his gaze, trailing her own hands over her contours and smiling when his eyes grew even wider, even darker.
She would only wait so long however, and within a few moments she was kneeling in front of him, soft hair falling gently over the softer skin of her shoulders as she pulled at his belt, button and zipper. He snapped out of his trance when one of her hands caressed him through the fabric of his boxer-briefs. He backed away from her, sliding off the bed and shucking the remainder of his clothing almost before she could even miss him.
He was back with her in a moment, kissing her soundly, pushing his tongue into her mouth to explore just one of the many pieces of his partner that he had yet to know. He took advantage of her upright position to unclasp her bra and pulled back once again to drink in her beauty. The sight of her nipples pebbling from the cool breeze of the fan had him feeling lightheaded; much more intoxicated than the mix of champagne and adrenaline that they had shared earlier.
"God, you're so beautiful," he mumbled to her collarbone, trailing a path of open mouth kisses down the skin there, stopping to swirl his tongue around a nipple as he brushed his thumb insistently against its twin.
He continued his ministrations, and her head fell back at the sensations he was evoking in her, the warmth pooling pleasantly in her belly, the heat and wetness gathering at her core. Her hands twisted in his short hair, eventually pulling his lips back to hers, needing to taste him again, addicted already to his flavor.
Suddenly frustrated as their kiss and the hands roaming her body turned languid and searching rather than hot and hungry, she put one hand against his less-injured shoulder and pushed hard. Under other circumstances he could have kept his balance, but she already had his world spinning in a riot of beauty and warmth and lust. He fell against the pillows, body splayed across the bed from one corner to the other.
Brennan wasted no time in climbing atop him, pausing for a moment to rid herself of the last barrier which existed between them. Giving him a siren's smile, she straddled his hips, gently allowing her weight to rest on his body while she felt his erection pressing into her back. She leaned forward until her nose was just inches from his own, teasing him with her soft breath upon his jaw and feather-light contact between her breasts and his chest.
She began to place hot, open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, down the column of his throat, around his nipple, giving it repeated attention when the sensations made him moan for her. She made her way down the plane of his abdomen, admiring his perfectly toned physique, and before he could quite register what was about to happen, she slid her body backward, further down his legs, as she bent and took his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around and then over his tip, while grasping his shaft with one hand.
The sound he made was pure need, and though what she was doing was making him see stars, he pulled her back up to him, needing his lips on hers and the reassurance that this wouldn't all be over before it had really begun.
"Need" he kissed her mouth "you" her throat "now" the shell of her ear. He grasped her hips and impaled her upon himself in one smooth motion, both gasping at how elementally right the connection felt.
She began moving over him, her hands braced on either side of his head so as not to aggravate the tender injuries on his chest. His lips attached themselves to anything within his reach, and when she bent down further to explore his mouth while he filled her again and again, he grabbed her hips and began to thrust with her, increasing both the tempo and the depth of their passion.
"Unh so damn good," he gasped out. She simply cried out, a breathy moaning sound that had him wanting even more. Moved a strong hand from her hip to her breast and began to massage it, pinching her nipple slightly. She cried out again.
"Oh" she slammed her body back down to his, "I'm gonna come" she forgot about his injuries, propping herself up on his chest, arching her back and changing the angle just enough so that he was hitting the spot where she needed him most.
With a shuddering gasp, her world flew apart into a million shimmering pieces, like the marquee and neon lights on the Vegas strip outside the window. She was not coherent, not in control of the noises she made or the way she collapsed on him, still moving feebly. It was not of her own volition that she screamed out his name- his real name- when she came.
The force of her orgasm and the fact that she was screaming for him, not Tony, was enough to pull Booth's climax from him, and he shouted her name too- or at least his name for her- Bones echoing over and over again in quiet room while the waved of his climax ebbed and flowed.
When it was over, they lay together, still crookedly, on the comforter. As he drifted off to sleep, Brennan's head resting on his sweaty chest, he knew that tonight there was no question- he would be dreaming about his Bones, because even the sexiest Roxy fantasy didn't hold a candle to the real thing.
A/N: What did you think? Should I stick to writing PG-13 fluff?