Disclaimer: I don't own Bones, et al.

Author's Note: This is my third attempt to post this story, sorry to all who might have clicked on the two attempts for this story. had not responded to my email, so now I have deleted the other two threads and am re-posting, yet again. Maybe the third time will be a charm. This story is still for my smut-loving Boneo gals ... Katie, Lola, Neen, Jeni, Kimmy and Amy! Please review, thanks!


The Calm Before the Calm

"There were times in life where everything just lines up and things fall into place and finally, finally we're right where we should be."

Temperance Brennan sighed and let those words sink in – she gently hit the delete key and let the processor strike through the existence of the last part of that sentence – but then, as if it was her fate or destiny calling to her, she heard the front door open and those familiar sounds that typically followed – his deep sigh of relief, his keys as he lay them down on the small table in the foyer and the unmistakable gate of his footsteps as he retreated to the bedroom – her heart raced, her hand flew up to her muscle where she rested her palm, her fingertips grazing along the edge of the flimsy cotton of her black tank top as she did.

She smiled and let herself relax – he was home, he made it home – was all she could think as she stared at the computer screen again, shifting in her chair, a dull ache pinched her nerve low and on the right side of her back, nothing more than a reminder now – the cursor taunted her for a beat, blink, blink – and inside that moment, she changed her mind and much to her surprise, she typed that last part again … because maybe … just maybe she really was right where she was meant to be.

And then it hit her as it did sometimes like this in moments of quiet reflection, just how much she had actually changed and grown and matured since the calm before the calm had come and gone.

Because really, if deep down she was the same person she had been a year ago, Temperance would have balked already – she would have run away (of course she already did that and look where she ended up) – but back then, thoughts of fate and destiny didn't belong to her, those ideas of perfect timing and the stars' impossible alignment were, in her opinion, no more than fool's gold.

But now, now … her perfect timing was all she could really focus on and of course none of this would be happening today had Seeley Booth not been right where he was meant to be.


For a lot had happened since they both had returned from their respective sabbaticals; Booth jumped right back into the FBI business ('cocky' belt buckle and all) while Brennan suited up and walked into the Jeffersonian just as she always did, with an air of confidence in her craft, in her true calling. And then it seemed things were just how they always were – the partners danced a slow, familiar waltz around each other and their suppressed feelings for one another – never stepping on one another toes and oh so careful not to cross any of those invisible boundaries they had erected over time.

It was comfortable … it was easy … it was reassuring and predictable … and calming, most of all they were a calming force for one another, no the great and vast distance between them and the time apart had not tested their delicate balance.

But as with life, nothing is ever as it seems – or so it seemed – and when things were calm and peaceful, other things … other demonic occurrences happened and situations came about wherein – the calm was really just the calm before the storm – and that's what ended up happening.

One minute they were fine, encapsulated by their false sense of calm – the partners were walking together in the garage across the street from the Jeffersonian, their witty banter in full swing as they headed out to interview their latest suspect – but in the next minute, chaos had ensued.

It turned out a group of terrorists had parked a truck full of explosives in the garage there on the bottom floor – the sound was deafening, the force rocked them and before they knew what literally hit them – the partners were separated, catapulted like a toddler's beloved rag doll, whipping and snapping with frailty – they were everywhere and nowhere at the same time – they were alone and frightened and injured and scared … and held hostage, pinned underneath the fallen wreckage.

Brennan remembered the alarms – it was still a trigger sound for her today – the incessant wail of a hundred different car alarms … bating her … taunting her … though keeping her alive with their intermittent cacophony, one she attempted to match her erratic heartbeat with for hours on end.

Booth's trigger memories focused largely on the odor of death and destruction – a noxious mix of concrete, fuel, blood and coolant – a combination that had somehow lodged itself to the interior of his nostrils and as described by him, 'smelled like the end of life as he knew it'.

And it was.

They partners were separated for nearly two days, lost within the trenches of the deep jungle of the concrete rubble, each desperately trying to hold on to anything and everything they could to survive … to live and to find each other again … to know the other had not perished. It was heartbreaking to now know – it was deafening, it was worse than anything imaginable – the not knowing, the entrapment, the powerlessness of it all nearly killed them, save for one light.


As strange as it may sound, Temperance Brennan would live to tell how she only wanted to survive to get to Parker in the event of Booth's death to ensure the small spitfire of a boy would always know and remember what a hero his father was (to her) and for many others too (they said he saved lives).

And for Booth it was the eyes of his child – Parker's curious depths of sparkling happiness – eyes he felt he had to see, if not for one last time. And when he closed his eyes on the wreckage all around him, he somehow saw the future. His consciousness was variable at best – fact and fiction, science and religion – all meshed together as he closed his eyes for immeasurable amounts of time … from time to time.

Days bled into nights, but on one of these bouts of loss of consciousness – Booth had a dream, he was still a dreamer after all – and like many of his other dreams, it was so real that he believed it to be some kind of prophesy, much like the last time he'd been down and out and dreamt of his beloved Bones.

Only this time, there was a child too – a baby, gender unknown – but there was a child with sparkling eyes who was revealed to him via Parker's vast gateways. One minute he was staring at his boy's recognizable eyes and then the scene changed and everything was bright and white and calm … so calm … the calmest of calms. And inside that calm, Parker tugged on his arm and he looked down and saw the most beautiful baby swathed in white with soft and blemish-free cheeks, a halo of dark hair – and eyes, eyes of tempered glass – multi-faceted eyes that were so bright and new and also serious and curious that they could have only been born from one woman.

And just as soon as his heart stilled on the baby's eyes, he saw now that someone was cradling the new life with all the ease and instinct of a mother – and therein he looked up to find his angel on earth – Temperance with her smile so soft and full of peace, so radiant and sure, she almost made his heart stop. He righted himself and she titled her head and looked at him quizzically like she sometimes did, but he could only smile in return.

With his eyes locked on hers and her apparent happiness and surety in where and how she stood with that little new life, Seeley Booth was rendered speechless. Bones chuckled and made some kind of wisecrack to which he muttered some kind of playful retort all the while they stared at one another still. He felt Parker's hand squeeze his and then a soothing, warm rub to his shoulder, wherein he turned to find the Priest, an inquiry was made – 'was the Booth family ready to begin the baptism' – and with that inquiry, Booth let himself go – he let himself live that dream – if only to survive the fury of the calm before the storm.

And so he held onto this dream and kept it there, deep within the dark liquid of his mind's eye like a beacon of hope along with that that innate wish of seeing his boy one day again – yes, he held onto this dream as a means of surviving this ordeal and living to see it come to fruition – because if there was one thing he would change in his life should they be spared, it would be that slow, easy waltz he danced with Bones.

Because he wanted more and he wouldn't settle for less – not now – certainly not now, not after having seen this dream, not now if she too, would survive.

Eventually they were indeed rescued though and with that came a barrage of movement and questions and anxiety and relief – and debris – insurmountable debris from the storm that had so recklessly intruded upon their calm. And only within the eye of the storm (the calm in between the aftershocks), did Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan finally dance.

It was a slow evolution and by no means a jitterbug, but it was a dance nonetheless, one built upon longing and trust and adoration … and survival.

Slowly, they healed and supported one another during their months of recovery – their internal injuries mostly superficial, each having undergone a surgery for their more serious ailments – Seeley's badly dislocated shoulder and Brennan's slipped discs in her back. And naturally as time marched on, the partners found deep solace within one another, sometimes into the wee hours of the night or morning – where one or both would wake up from their respective nightmares – only to have no one else to call … no one else to dance this particular dance with. So calling and staying late at one another's places became the norm, it became what they simply evolved to be … until one night the tune of their melody changed and they became lovers.

And much to their surprise, their ultimate connectivity did not come to them out of lust or desire, but rather it was the stuff of their survival – it was born of their foundation and their blind trust of one another – for they were stewards for each other's peace of mind, curators of their collective souls and it was a beautiful thing.

It really was, and that's what kept them afloat the first time they made love; they were tentative, unsure – and yet so sure, so safe and so careful and trusting – that it mitigated any and all fears they might have harbored and they became congruent and naturally made for one another.

And much like many evolutionists would report, there was a natural order to almost everything in the world; to almost everything in life and Brennan and Booth's intimacy was no different. For it was natural, innate and essential for survival of the storm and of the calm.


"And so maybe we are right where we should be – just maybe – for only time will tell us for sure, if only life's storms were as truly predictable as the weather man said they were, then we would surely know more, we would know which path to take."

Temperance sighed, still seemingly unhappy with the crux of her latest chapter. She stopped typing all together and listened for her lover's footsteps now and heard nothing but silence – she smiled then, for he'd been tired lately, his energy level just reaching where it once was – lack of sleep for both of them had somewhat derailed their recoveries, but they had made great strides since they decided to live together a little over two months ago.

Since then, they had been more at ease – each working part time, selecting cases to work on together – but in the end, it was restful sleep that helped. Well that, and coming home to one another every night. Their connectivity meant something – it meant something when there was a storm to weather – or even when it was beautiful outside, for they were together, they had one another.

And there it was, they had each other. And however ugly the damage from their ordeal, Temperance found herself smiling at this one outcome – they lived together, they were together, they were falling for each other – her nightmares had all but vanished and so had his, save for his one dream of a little baby with her eyes. She'd supported him in keeping that one alive – there was nothing but truth and honesty between them now – and she wanted him to hold on to that dream and make it his … and one day, she hoped he would make it hers too.

She sighed, for these were the times where her heart flew light years beyond her mind – these were the moments wherein she allowed this small piece of her heart to make a claim on her future and calm her mind – because she really had evolved and she really, really wanted Booth's dream to come true for both of them.

She stilled her racing heart and saved her document, switched the monitor off, and adjusted her tired eyes to the more muted light for a split-second before she stood and pushed her chair back, crossed the room and closed the door behind her, a small smile etched along her face as she entered their bedroom, her heart melting at the vision set before her: Seeley Booth asleep in her bed.

She blushed, after all it was something to get used to – and as much he looked completely at ease and very much like he belonged there – he was still him; her partner (now in every way). And he was at peace – with his damp hair wild, his dark eyes closed to the world, his handsome face relaxed, no tension, no creases of concern – he lay on his back, his broad naked chest exposed … he trusted her and the world they created together.

Temperance crossed the room and switched her small reading lamp off – a triangle of warm light appeared inside their darkened enclave – a light they left on, one they just couldn't sleep without yet. She sighed and rested her eyes on his serenity now before she slipped into bed and drew herself closer to his heat. His capable arms were immediately around her, his gesture followed by his throaty chuckle, her own chortle filled the silence too as the lovers opened their eyes to find one another at long last, for it had been a long day of separation.

"I thought you were never gonna come to bed," he teased, drawing her near, his hands flanked her skull where he held her in the moment, before he kissed her sweet, minty lips.

"Hmm," Temperance sighed against his mouth. "I'm sorry – I got stuck – but I'm here now," she breathed, inching even closer; she laced her legs through his and let him make sure of her, she ran her fingertips up and down his arrow-straight spine. "I missed you today …," she uncharacteristically confessed, resting her hand along the handsome plane of his cheek.

"So, you were that girl today, hmm," he mused thoughtfully, teasing her with his handsome smile as he attempted to lighten her mood, for he knew how much she sometimes felt weak, that even though their relationship was tried and true, it was also still fresh and new.

"I was – I can admit it – more easily than I used to," she quipped with a smile, she watched his dark brown eyes soften around the edges, his bright smile somehow still luminous in the darker room.

"Well, would it make you feel any better to know I missed you too?" he asked softly, his eyes scanning hers, back and forth.

"You always miss me," she countered playfully, moving her hand up to trace the halo of his hairline, she got lost in his eyes.

She smiled at the insecurity she found in his gateways, he was still checking on her, still treading lightly, for he knew that for her this thing had to progress with baby steps, though lately she felt like she was running with leaps and bounds, heading straight into the storm of what would evolve to be their relationship.

So she could admit it now – she wanted him – she wanted the calm before the calm again … she wanted the slow, easy waltz. She wanted them.

And then she smiled and inched even closer, running her free hand from his muscular neck, her fingertips moving down to caress the perfect arc of his ribs before she rested her palm along his hipbone and leaned in, a throaty chuckle fell from the high shelf of her lips as Booth pulled her thigh up and over his hips, never moving his gaze from hers.

"I do," he muttered gruffly, easing himself into the valley of her womanhood, his eyes locked on hers as he pressed his pelvic bone into that wedge of her delirious space; he could feel her heat. "You know I do," he husked, brushing his nose against hers, her angular cheeks flushed already, he took her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked, hard.

Temperance felt her core quake – she snaked her hand down and between them – slipping her fingers into his pajama bottoms, ignoring the tie for now as she found her prize: his rock hard cock. She leaned up and on her elbow and ducked down to thoroughly kiss her man, his virility twitching in her hand. He tasted of aftershave and soap and toothpaste and she couldn't get enough of him, eying him carefully now as she pulled back – enjoying her prowess, her power-hold on him – for she wanted him; the storm – Booth's storm – was on the horizon and she was right where she was meant to be to brace it.

"I want you … I missed you, Booth … I want you," she whispered into their heat, her went nuts and her skin pricked with unruly heat.

The raspy sound of her voice and the layer of glass coating her eyes jarred them both back to reality – for even though they had made love countless times already, her apparent want for him had somehow surpassed the plateau she had lingered upon for a while now because she finally vocalized how she felt. Finally.

Her eyes deluged with tears as her confessions hung in the damp heat between them, for he was the gatekeeper of her soul – and she had just bared herself to him, having nothing to hide anymore, a fact they were both well aware of – but for right here, right now she was where she was meant to be – she was who she was meant to be, she was his lover – nothing more. And somehow because it was Booth, it was okay to be that for him … to weather the storm of him, with him.

And therein, just as she had many times before, she lost and found herself within his deep soul-filled gateways and realized it was okay to want him … for forever and always.

Booth's heart skipped a beat – she wanted him, she missed him – it was all he could process as his lifeline began to rage inside his chest. He smiled and got lost in the sudden peacefulness of her aura, she was happy; she was sated, long gone were the deep flecks of sadness he used to find in her eyes. She became blurred around the edges and he let his thick tears recede as he reached up and cradled her beautiful skull in his hands and pressed his lips together, by God she was so gorgeous when she was happy – he loved her, he was in love with her, truly, madly – and therein he could finally admit that he loved and missed the calm before the calm.

"Temperance," he whispered, her name falling from his lips like a long lost puzzle piece slipping into the groove of its place. "I … you're happy," he smiled, he loved her, he loved to see her this happy.

"I am," she whispered, emotion barreling through her now, her heart racing this time to keep up with her mind. "I am … so happy, right now, right here, I feel …," she smiled, titling her head – 'safe, I feel safe and warm and calm' – she wanted to say, his fingers moved through the waves of her tresses as he held here there still.

"Bones," he sighed with a weak smile. "Please … tell me …talk to me," he prompted, tempting fate – he drew her near – his lips found her bare shoulder, he pressed a trail of hot kisses to her sweet flesh, moving his mouth up to her neck where he lingered on her pulse-point, the butterfly hum of its movement massaging his nerves as he did.

Her gasp filled the darkened air all around them as Temperance leaned into his pulsing lips – her focus dwindling now, her core on fire – she wanted more of this … she wanted him on this plane of the here and now … she wanted him … she loved him.

Her heart banged inside her chest – she loved him, this of course she knew – within her heart of hearts this was a fact she had come to terms with long ago, but her mind and heart were suddenly aligned – 'aligned', there she had said it and felt it and confessed it … she was in the eye of the storm and the calm before the calm was unexpectedly upon her.

"Booth," she breathed, her head falling back as his lips continued their assault on her skin, pulsing lower and lower, nipping just above the v-shaped neckline of her tank top, his hot breath fanning the ample swell of her breasts.

"Talk to me Bones … talk …," he murmured, slipping his hand beneath her fitted tank top, pulling it over her head now with one fluid motion. "Please … talk," he repeated breathlessly – unwilling to let the moment of her apparent clarity dissipate – for he had longed to hear from her, to really hear what she needed from him, what she wanted from him. "Talk," he persisted, his nimble fingertips, brushing along her already hardened raspberry peaks … God, he could get lost in her and never find his way back.

"Oh Booth," Temperance heaved, arching her back, she raised herself up, his hot breath slamming into her heated and hard skin, her nipples crystallizing on his wordless command. He brushed his nose against her flesh; she was hot … so hot. "I want … no … I need you," she confessed, opening her eyes she took his skull in her hands and stared into his wild eyes.

He reacted without words then, not trusting himself to say anything. He reached down and palmed her perfectly toned tush, she gasped and he felt her succumb to his hold on her as he unhinged his legs from hers and inched her pajama bottoms down, down, down along her beautiful legs, taking with them the small scrap of material she liked to call 'panties'.

Naked in all of her beautiful glory – Booth looked down and ravaged his lover with his eyes – surely melting inside now as he caught a glimpse of the truth and honesty etched along her heart-shaped face. Hovering over her for a beat now, he bent down and kissed her lips – she closed her mystical eyes and lay perfectly still – she trusted him, he watched a sheen of tiny new goose bumps travel across her flesh, her nipples large and ripe and ready. He dipped his head lower and kissed her shoulder, then moved his mouth up to her ear where he sucked on her fleshly lobe.

Her hands flew to the tie of his pajama bottoms where she quite literally released him into her capable hands, wasting no time now before finding his mouth to kiss him senseless, all the while massaging his rod and sack with the skilled precision of the forensic anthropologist she was – for she knew bones – and she most definitely knew his … intimately. No bones about it, he needed her too.

"I need you too … and … I need you to know that … talk to me … talk," he ordered into her mouth, her hold on his cock grew tighter as she pulled him down, opening her thighs wide to make room for him.

Once there, Booth pressed his cock into her groin, she squirmed under the weight of his body – her nipples cutting across his chest, her breasts pinned beneath him, nothing but heated flesh between them now, skin on skin, there was nothing quite like it – hot tufts of her breath breezed along his neck and she nipped at his ear as she skillfully massaged his cock with her pelvic bone – 'Bones, Bones, Bones' – he chanted silently as she continued her ministrations, cock to bone, bone on bone – a fever-chill pricked up his spine – he heard himself moan her name out loud, his call to her suspended somewhere in the mass of their hot air … the storm surely on the horizon now.

Temperance pulsed her hips up, rolling her lover's cock between their wedge – her hands found his skull where she held him there and opened her wild eyes to find his – she knew he needed to hear from her, she knew that he knew that she had arrived on some other kind of plane in the way she felt about him, but she didn't trust herself to say anything more at the moment.

Because she was lost, lost within all the calm and the bliss of finally coming to terms with her undying love for this man – God, he was so beautiful when he was turned on – with his hair all wild and the flush of his gorgeous face and the intensity of his eyes, he was heated and sexy as hell – she opened her hips wider, speaking to him without words again wherein he answered her also without words by settling himself more deeply into the groove of her special place for him.

Eye to eye.

Pelvis to pelvis.

Chest to breast.

Heart to heart.

Nose to nose.

Closer than close now, Temperance tilted her head up and seized his lips, wrapped her legs around his waist as she did – she wanted to talk to him, she wanted to tell him – but her voice was gone as gone as her heart and soul … captured, captivated, held hostage now on this new plane of existence, one upon which she could see all of the storms on the horizon and they were just stunning – the calm of the calm somehow leveling her – she blinked and felt Seeley's mouth move across her nipples.

"Booth …," she almost cried, he moaned into her flesh, his lips pursed around her nipple where he held her, pinning her hands above her head in submission, holding her there before he flicked her pleasure point with the tip of his talented tongue. "Hmm, oh God," she heaved her core ignited – evidence of her arousal slipping beyond her folds now – she raised her hips up, pinning his cock against her abdomen.

"That's it," he encouraged gruffly, playing with the dark targets of her nipples, running his fat tongue along the valley of her cleavage before he kissed his way up to the underside of her neck and released her hands. "Talk to me … what do you want from me," he husked thickly into her ear, she raised her hips and held onto his skull for dear life – opening herself wider as a signal to take him – he felt the heat of her core radiate against his abdomen and he was all but a goner.

"Your mouth … on me … I need you," she breathed into his ear, pulsing her lips into the hot crease of his neck, her heart beating like a herd of wild stallions, whump, whump, whump, it was all she could hear inside the beautiful calm of the calm.

With that confession, Booth felt Temperance relax her under him, her knees fell to the side – yet another wordless signal from his lover, a foghorn outside the eye of the storm – one that called to him as he kissed his woman, nipping at her flesh, her clavicle under his tongue now, her hands woven through his hair in an effort to ground herself. Her chest heaving with untamed need – he dipped his head lower and found her nipples again – volleying between the two targets before he held one with his lips and pulled back – nip, nip, suck, fuck, fuck – he dipped his head lower and even lower still, stealthily moving down to her pelvic bone where he peppered her apex with a round of rapid fire kisses before he stopped short – arrested by the delicious scent of her arousal – his mouth watered and he swallowed hard as he rested his head on her thigh to catch his breath, her opposite knee raised and open now as he set his sights on his prize: her beautiful pussy.

Temperance stilled her heart – her hands found her breasts and she massaged her beaded nipples with her delicate fingers – all the while she waited for the storm, the calm before the storm of Booth …for his storm was always so beautiful and quiet it made her heart burn.

She moved one hand down and rested it on top of her lover's head; his searing breath fanned her pussy, cooling her down whilst paradoxically heating her up at the same time … in, out, hot, cool, in, out … she held her breath, inhaling the essence of her sex as it wafted up and twirled around the room – yet another signal, another wordless call that she was ready – because she was and then just like some kind of meteor shower, she felt it … his careful, loving touch.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Booth muttered a her entrance; his face inches away from her ardent heat, his eyes hooded with unspent passion, his view of 'heaven's gate' nothing more than heart-stopping.

He breathed; holding himself steady before he carefully ran his pointer finger along his lover's glistening seam wherein he lost himself once again – her sex intoxicating him, coating his nostrils like sweet honey on a bee hive – he inched closer even still and watched with fascination as her beautiful muscles pulsed, reacting instinctively to his barely-there touch. The wild heat from her core coating his finger, radiating now like a line of crackling gunpowder.

His mouth watered and he felt her abundant essence slip free from her hold, her flood gates now open – it was all he could do to hold himself steady as he gently breached her plaints folds – her delicate muscles seizing his finger, clenching down as he pulsed gently into her fleshy depths … once, twice and then a third time before Temperance raised her hips and called his name, her voice warbled, stacked … his angel's hymn.

Aligned with Temperance (as he usually found he was inside their bedroom), Booth slipped his finger free from her hold and inched forward, unable to stop himself now from pressing his nose into her sweet hole – he moved his head up a fraction of a inch and hovered his mouth over her hooded clit – where he pushed his nose against her there, she squirmed with delight, he pressed her hips down and open in response.

Breathing in and out through his mouth, Booth once again ran his fingertip along her drenched slit – she was hot, she was ready – he eyed her hood for a beat before pressing a tiny, open-mouth kiss to her precious bundle of nerves where he sucked on her sweet flesh in an effort to bate and coax her clit out of hiding.

He pulled back to survey his handiwork, pleased to find his lover's hands attached to his skull akin to vise as he looked up to spy on her – her intense aquamarine eyes were closed, her ruby red lips were twisted, her brow was furrowed, her cheeks and breasts were flushed with a hazy, passionate dew – she was the picture of sex appeal – she was Venus, trapped within her own calm of the calm – one of the places he liked to think she loved best in the world.

She squeezed his head with her hands, pulling him from his reverie; he ducked down, wasting no time now before he gently parted her glistening folds with his thumbs to reveal her bright pink center – one of the places on earth he loved best – and this would prove to be his last coherent thought before he proceeded to cover her whole delicious pussy with his mouth.

Temperance lost herself inside the quiet, calm storm of bliss then – Booth's forearms laced under her tush, her feet planted to the mattress, her knees and thighs wide open while he feasted on her sumptuous flesh – wherein all she could hear were her moans of pleasure harmonizing with the ricochet of the sweet smack of his lips and tongue as he worked tirelessly to get her off, moaning into her hole, filling her with vibrations of his want and need along with his talented tongue.

She moved her hands up and palmed her breasts, testing their weight, toying with her rock hard nipples – brush, brush, pinch, pinch – she tried to match her tempo with Booth's as he made love to her pussy, inserting one finger, then another now, he pumped her flesh and nerves all the while drinking down the sweet fruits of his labor.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, skillfully pulsing into her pussy, kissing her thighs for a beat, completely lost within the power of her essence.

Her muscles tenaciously milked his fingers now – slip, slip, in, out – he watched her swallow him whole, he felt a phantom hold on his cock now, rub, rub, pulse, pulse … he needed her, he wanted her and his cock remembered her. His face was covered in her sweet juice; her body convulsed again and she raised her hips up, then let them fall down as he closed his mouth over opening in an effort to be ready to siphon every last drop of her delicious cum.

"So … close … I'm close … so good … so fucking good," Temperance heaved into the air – her eyes closed tight against the world, for she was as lost as her lover was now – she pinched her nipples, the dual assault almost too much to bear … for she was almost there … blissful oblivion was almost hers.

Almost, so close, so close! She chanted as she opened her thighs wider in an effort to let Seeley Booth have his way with her – she wanted to cum and she wanted to cum hard in his mouth – her orgasm building in a furious crescendo now, powerless to their mutual cause, he rapidly flicked her clit with the tip of his tongue and added yet another finger, filing her up – massaging her clit and mouth now in a series of figure eights, around and around and around he went, no sign of letting up, blissful oblivion was around the next swirl, swirl, fuck, fuck!

Her systematic clenching began in earnest now, her body well aware of its needs – her hands flew to Booth's head where they would surely stay for the duration – she guided him, calling out to him – her voice raspy and full of raw and organic need and desire, her body thrashed, the swell of her breasts swayed with her movement – she flexed her hips up, she needed more, more of him, she loved him – she raised her hips up again in a final effort to more thoroughly fuck his mouth.

Booth responded to his lover's breathless calls and moans and wails of appreciation – he felt her ass cheeks clench together and he knew she was close – her sex was abundant, her folds were both pliant and delicious and he feasted and he would continue to do so until he had his fill – she moved his head, pushing his mouth over her clit and he obliged by swirling her swollen little nub in between his lips, brushing it with his tongue, flick, swirl, flick – for he wanted her to cum, he wanted her to cum in his mouth and in that moment, she did. Her muscles grabbed his fingers and pulsed erratically – mine, mine, mine – they shouted to which he pulsed them deeper and deeper into her core simultaneously shouted… 'yours, yours, yours' as she rode the waves of her orgasm, the storm passing out to sea … for now.

Drinking down the last of her juice now, Booth French kissed his lover's pussy in a series of open-mouthed pulses in an effort to clean her up – she was swollen, plump, beautiful and sated – he kissed her once more before he moved up to her well-manicured mound and pressed his nose into her soft hairs there, breathing her in, gently massaging her damp folds with his fingers before moved his mouth up, up, up her body, stopping to gently kiss her stimulated nipples and it seemed those tiny wet impressions were all it took for his lover to finally talk to him.

"Make love to me Booth," came her billowy voice from that far off place, the calm before the calm.

He opened his eyes and crawled up, situating himself along her side. She smiled, her eyes still closed, he moved his fingers along the halo of her hairline and leaned forward to press an even kiss to her mouth. She deepened their kiss, her hands around his neck and in one fluid motion he was hovering over her – she opened her eyes and her thighs to find and accept him – he lowered his body and leaned up on his forearms as she snaked her hand between them and pumped his rod.

"I want you," she sighed, seeking solace from the storm, she stared at him still from that quiet, calm place where everything was all right; she fisted his more than ready cock.

Booth growled, his hips flexing on their own accord – his cock banged against her swollen opening where Temperance held him in place – her eyes locked on his still, he could tell her big mind was working. She dipped just the head of his cock into her depths, her folds stretching, the ridge of his sensitive head barely covered by her hot flesh, she swiped him up and down, up and down.

"I need you," she whispered, swallowing hard, she held him just inside her opening, her need for him growing exponentially, the faint aftershock of her orgasms still pinging her every nerve.

Booth felt her open her hips wider and roll them up slightly then, the head of his cock still submersed in her heat – her sweet, abundant sex coating his shaft as she fisted his muscle up and down, using her natural inclination to lubricate him now – to ready him for their pleasure. She rolled her hips up and back to angle more suitable for the deeper penetration she loved so much. And with that last roll of her hips, Booth claimed his lover's body for his own.

Temperance released her muscular hold on Booth's cock and finally allowed him to breach her folds and sink his muscle into her depths, inch by beautiful inch. Moaning in unison as he filled her up now – her layers stretching to accommodate his girth, stretch, pulse, stretch, cum, cum – and therein he sank lower and lower until their pelvises were touching.

Leaning down, he pressed his mouth to hers, keeping his eyes open and locked on hers while he kissed her senseless – her breathing hitched and his moan filled the space between them – skin on skin, nerves around nerves, muscle against muscle. They were complete. The world stopped spinning and all that remained was the beautiful calm before the calm – that space and time that used to belong solely to them had returned – and they felt blessed because they had lived to find it and breathe it and live it … together.

Temperance gasped as Booth began to move within her – his strokes long and hard and short and urgent all the same – his eyes never left hers and that was just fine by her. Her lips found his shoulder where she planted them, the scar from his surgery always a reminder from whence they came. She took a deep breath and brushed her tongue along his flesh, his skin tasted of her sex – salty and sweet, but his essence was there too – she pulsed her mouth up to his neck and then to his fleshy earlobe where she sucked it into her mouth and kissed and kissed him there, for she wasn't done talking.

"I ...," her voice trailed off and she swallowed her words, for he continued to fill her up in ways she hadn't begun to fathom, she took even more of him as he pulsed and pulsed.

She swallowed hard again and titled her face up to find his lisp instead – to kiss him, to make love to him – and to watch him cum like he watched her. He moaned her name and she flanked his skull with her hands – reaching up she traced his hairline with her fingertips and opened her thighs even wider to accept all he had to offer.

And therein, she shifted her hips back and up, pulse, pulse, pulse, fuck, fuck, fuck, slip, slip, slip – the friction was intense, as intense as his dark liquid eyes as he stared at her – his orgasm on the horizon, right there within the storm. He became blurred around the edges then as she held on tight and blinked those waiting tears away, her gateways stuck on his as she watched him growl and cum hard, his hot load filling her cavity as he slammed into her one last time, bang, bang and in that split-second of a moment she believed that Seeley Booth had never looked more beautiful or true to his innate self and belief systems, for he was a man in love.

And in the end, maybe it was the way he tenaciously made love to her or maybe it was how he looked when he came or the way he made her cum over and over and over again – maybe it was a little of everything – but mostly, she decided it was the way he was able to bring her back to the calm before the calm ... he was able to find their place again and that made all the difference to their past … and their future.

"I love you Booth," she whispered, locking her eyes with his for this moment of truth, his cock slipped from her core. "I love you," she husked again for good measure because she was lost, so lost within him and his calming force.

"Thank God," he whispered, his heart racing, pounding into his eardrums now, his eyes wide open, he took a deep breath and felt her aura wash over him, she loved him. "I love you too … so much … and for so long already," he managed to say, his keen eyes still making sure of her.

And so there the lovers stayed, basking in their new revelations of love and trust – all under the protective canopy of their impervious calm before the calm where the stars were indeed aligned and the ideas of fate and destiny lived on and came to fruition … a slow waltz was in their future for sure, despite any storms brewing on the horizon.


Late into the night, Temperance slipped from her lover's hold on her and then form their bedroom, she quietly entered her study, sat down at her desk, turned the monitor and typed what she so clearly felt in her heart. The problematic chapter was finally complete.

"And now, right now was most definitely one of those very moments, for the stars were indeed aligned and the sky was brightly illuminated by those giant balls of suspended gas – just hanging there surrounded by a vast area of velvet clarity, clear as black – the storm gone for good now as we huddled deep inside the beautiful and stunning calm of the calm … together … forever."