Chapter 8

It was raining lightly. A soft steady rain that was fine enough to coat every surface no matter how well covered it was. An impenetrable humidity added to the sense of oppressiveness as if nature itself was revoking its invite to explore its mysteries and forcing everyone to huddle indoors.

Booth sat in an armchair near the window gazing out at yet another city that he had no desire to be in. Not without her.

For the first time in his life he seriously considered taking up smoking. Scotch had lost its appeal. It was the drug of forgetting, and he didn't want to forget. Those last moments together, no matter how tortured, were the last he would have with her. He needed to remember them, not dilute them.

But a vice would be helpful right about now, he thought wistfully. He looked toward the writing desk where he had begun to compose a letter to her. He had only gotten as far as "Dear Temperance," before he backed away from the desk, an attack of nerves ruining his resolve.

There was so much he wanted to tell her. No way it would all fit into a measly letter. At the moment he couldn't understand why the written word held so much appeal to people, why love poems and sonnets were created, why Shakespeare was so revered. It paled so much in comparison to actually holding the one you loved in your arms, entering her, making her cry out your name, emptying yourself into her.

It wasn't all about the sex, of course. The day-to-day routines held special significance when you were with the one you wanted. He had never been grocery shopping with her, but he was sure there would be some kind of magic in it.

What had he done? He knew what he had done. He'd fucked it up since he beginning. And why? Because he hadn't trusted her. Because he had let someone who didn't deserve his love crush him like a bug, and he had never recovered.

He thought back to the day it all came crashing down around him. His heart constricted in his chest and if he didn't know the reason for it he would swear he was having a heart-attack.

He had come home early from a business trip. He grimaced, thinking back on it. How fucking cliché was that? He expected to drop off his things and surprise Parker at school. He snuck into the house stealthily, disarming the alarm and moving silently past the kitchen to the bedrooms in the back. Rebecca always liked surprises and she claimed that his sniper training kind of turned her on. He wasn't all that thrilled about that, considering he had lived through the actual life and death experiences, but he wanted to make her happy. And that's what one did, right? You left your comfort zone if a loved one needed it.

Getting closer, he could hear the TV going, and thought he heard a porno playing. He smirked. Bad girl, Rebecca, he thought. Whacking off in the middle of the day. He was completely unprepared for what he did see.

Which was Rebecca on all fours in the middle of the bedroom with some guy fucking her in the ass and another with his cock lodged deep in her throat. He stood there frozen, watching them, none of them realizing he was there. He watched as the ass guy keep switching back and forth between her ass and her pussy and he could help but think that it looked plain unsanitary. He took in the video camera hooked up to the TV and realized with horror that the porno sounds were actually coming from Rebecca. Duplicitous monster-slut moaning in stereo surround-sound. He watched as the mouth guy grunted and pulled out coming all over Rebecca's face.

Booth took a moment to process this. A guy just came all over my wife's face. I should kick the shit out if him. Barely a moment after this thought passed, ass guy pulled out and swung her around to suck the come out of his dick. Her saw her with her eyes closed in ecstasy, letting some idiot's shit-stained cock in her mouth. As he was coming and Rebecca was swallowing it down like a good whore, she opened her eyes and finally saw Booth.

She didn't even have the decency to stop, but instead reached up and grabbed the guy's ball-sac squeezing all the juice out of him. Her eyes never left his.

He closed the door gently and left her to it. In a daze he left and picked up Parker, taking him to a friends house to play. He went back home, hoping Rebecca's playmates had left, as he wasn't sure he would be able to restrain himself from murdering them.

The blowout was huge, of course, of epic proportions. But at least he got the truth out of her. The infidelity had been occurring for a long time, and with many, many men. He closed his eyes, senses overloaded when he heard that. One was bad, but somewhat understandable if she wasn't happy. Even the disgusting little orgy he had just witnessed might be excused in the name of experimenting. Many men, however, constituted an irreparable breach of trust. Eventually he found out she had even hit on his brother Jared, who had told her to "fuck off." Later he told him, "I used those exact words Bro. The only reason I didn't tell you is that she was drunk off her ass. Figured she wasn't so slutty when she was sober."

On the plus side there was only one fight. Granted, it was a doozy, and the aftereffects would haunt him for years, but at least there were no pleas for forgiveness, no rounds of repeats to endure.

The sticking point was, of course, Parker. At the time he thought there was no way he'd leave his precious boy with such an obviously deranged bitch. After consulting with his lawyer though, he realized taking full custody wouldn't be possible. Rebecca might be an unfaithful sociopath but her record was spotless and she was a dedicated and loving mother to Parker, even Booth had to admit that. He, however, traveled all the time. He would never be able to give him a stable home. So he struck a deal with her. She would get full custody, but she had to promise not to ever let Parker find out how they got divorced and would behave herself around him. She also had to accept that periodically Booth would be using PI's to make sure she was complying. A generous settlement agreement helped sweetened the pot. Greed trumped personal freedom.

So Rebecca got Parker, the house, a car, and an obscene amount of alimony. And Booth got...nothing.

Then she moved to the West Coast and he got less than nothing. Not even weekend visits with Parker. At least her new husband seemed like a good guy. Booth had made Rebecca tell him why they broke up. It didn't seem to bother him, he seemed to love her enough to trust her and believe that she'd changed. At the time, Booth shrugged. It was his funeral.

Despite missing Parker, he was glad she moved so far away. Seeing her every week when he went to pick up Parker made him moody and sad. Ms. Hawley was usually the one who talked him down off the proverbial ledge after those episodes. Her loyalty and compassion were the only reason his faith in womankind was not completely destroyed.

He wanted Temperance to know all of this. Regardless of whether she wanted to be with him.

He looked towards the desk again. So much to tell her. He'd better get started.


Trembling hands dropped the letter to the floor. She watched as it glided gently to the carpet in slow motion. What she had just read was so jarring, so shocking; she barely knew what to think.

Booth had been wronged. She knew it, of course. Knew that some woman, some horrible woman had tried to curse him to a lifetime of mistrust and cruelty. But it was worse than she thought. He had been betrayed in the most vile way possible and suddenly she could see why he acted the way he did. Why he had to always be in control. Why he dominated and punished women the way he did.

Bile and rage spread through her body as she thought of Rebecca. If she was not the mother of Booth's son, Brennan was convinced she would hunt her down and tear her arms off. Or at least drag her back to Booth to beg for mercy and forgiveness. Anger, though, was quickly replaced by sadness as she remembered that this was why he saw all women as potential predators, even her.

But he said he loved me, a small voice whispered, a voice she had thought was successfully pushed back to the furthest corners of her mind. Obviously it was waiting for the right moment to pipe up and dispense some wisdom.

If she thought of it, she could think of a few times when she thought he might be about to say it. One time in particular struck her. They had gone back to the restaurant where they had seen each other on that fateful night when she had decided to take the job. He dragged her back behind the curtain again but this time, instead of a brisk feel-up, he quickly lifted her dress and hooked her legs around his waist. He unzipped his fly, positioned his cock at her entrance and pushed into her fast and hard until he hit bottom. She only lasted moments before peaking. She was always so hot for him, the second his fingers twisted her clit she cried out into the hand that came up to cover her mouth. His head rocked back as he plunged into her, ecstasy washing over his features as he came inside her with a powerful thrust of his hips. When he pulled away she could see his eyes shining, looking at her like she was a goddess. She could tell he wanted to say something. Words hung in the air, unsaid words co-mingling with the scent of the sex permeating from their half-clad bodies. Instead he let the moment pass, pulling back further and laughing, telling her he was happy she was so game. That she wanted him so badly, she'd fuck him anywhere. She smacked him in the arm and adjusted her dress while he zipped up his pants. Hardly, she said, pretend miffed. Later, over dinner, he teased her more, asking her if she'd have sex with him in a church (no), in the park (yes, but under a blanket), if she'd give him a blowjob under the table (no, the tablecloths were too short), in a movie theater (no, but maybe a hand job). By the end of the meal they were howling with laughter, the other restaurant patrons giving them disapproving looks. But they didn't care, did they?

Because they were in love.

God, she was so foolish.

She reached for the phone and had the operator dial Booth's hotel. She had to talk to him. Right now, before she lost her nerve.

The operator told her Mr. Booth had already checked out that morning. Her hopeful face collapsed and her hand moved in slow motion, seemingly detached from her body, to replace the receiver. She sat for a minute at a loss before she picked up the phone to call his cell, Ms. Hawley, Angela, whomever. In mid-dial she paused, and then set the receiver gently back down in the cradle. She couldn't do it yet. There were a number of things to do before making that call.


"Mr. Booth, your 1 o'clock is here," Ms. Hawley announced over the intercom.

"Give me a minute."

"Yes sir."

Booth stood at the windows of his office and watched the little city ants and their taxis scurrying below. It was a beautiful autumn day, the hot weather finally breaking. The sun was shining, there was a cool breeze, and finally Seeley Booth felt he was getting his life together.

He'd stopped drinking and feeling sorry for himself. He'd kept up the running, but had added yoga. It was a humbling experience being around so many strong and flexible people, but he needed humbling, didn't he? It was good for him. He ignored the lustful looks from the class full of women and concentrated on his breath and relaxing. No doubt many of them thought him gay. That was ok by him. Right now he wasn't anything. There was only one woman he desired. The rest were all invisible.

He heard a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he called out.

Jack Hodgins burst through the door belying the timidity with which he knocked. "Booth! How the hell are ya?" He strode over and grasped Booth's hand pumping it up and down. "Good to see you again. You ready for lunch? Aw man, I got just the place picked out. It's this hole-in-the-wall burger joint, but it's in the Parker Meridian. How crazy is that?"

He continued talking a mile a minute while Booth looked on amused. At first a part of him had wanted to hang back when Hodgins called him for lunch. It didn't seem right to co-opt her friends, no matter that both Angela and Jack had assured him that eventually "Bones" would come around. But in the end, he realized he liked them, and the feeling was mutual. He could only hope she would understand.

In the meantime he was enjoying his sporadic get-togethers with Jack. He understood only about half of what he was saying, but he definitely appreciated the man's passion about his work and about his beautiful wife.

They walked the short distance to the grungy little burger place situated oddly in the lobby of a five-star hotel, then took their place in the long line that always formed during lunch.

"So, have you heard from her?" Booth said, trying to sound casual. He asked this every time he saw him and the answer was almost always no. He studied the menu pretending he might order something besides the world-famous burgers.

"Yes, actually."

Booth's head whipped around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

Jack continued, his eyes fixed on the menu as well. "She called Angela a few days ago. She's still in Tokyo. That's all I know."

Booth's heart sank. She wasn't coming back. "Did she say anything about me?"

"Yes, she asked how you were."

His heart rose again to its proper place. "What did Angela tell her?"

"Same thing she did last time. That you love her and want her to come home." He paused. " She didn't reply, " he added quickly before Booth could ask.

"Same response as last time," he replied, his voice flat. He plunged into depression again. All this seesawing was making him dizzy.

Jack spoke again, patting his sleeve awkwardly. "She'll come back, don't worry." His eyes were full of understanding and sympathy for his new friend.

"Yeah," Booth replied. "I hope you're right."


The jet hit the pavement smoothly but emitted a high-pitched scream like a panther that made Brennan jump an inch off her seat. She exhaled shakily, thankful the long flight was finally over and she was home. Well, home being D.C. for now. Angela should be waiting for her, car ready, willing to take her immediately to anywhere her heart desired.

To Booth, she thought, and her heart leapt up. She could have flown directly to New York, and she wasn't sure why she didn't. Maybe it seemed a bit too desperate. She wanted to get acclimated, recover from jet lag and then find him and jump his bones.

Sure enough, Angela was waiting by the exit with a giant sign decorated as tacky as possible with balloons and glitter writing, that said 'Welcome home Bones!' Brennan wasn't sure just how many exclamation points there were, but it was a lot. When Angela saw Brennan she squealed and jumped up and down, waving madly. Once Brennan neared, she dropped the sign and gave her a big bear hug. "I am so happy you're home honey!" Brennan gave her a half-hearted hug back. Angela pulled back to look at her. Her expression turned serious as she scanned her friend's tired face.

Brennan, reading her mind, disengaged from the hug and readjusted her shoulder bag. "It's just jetlag." She smiled weakly, taking her friend's hand. "I'm very, very happy to be home." Implicit in that statement was her joy and nervousness at the imminent reunion with Booth.

Angela picked up the handle of Brennan's carry-on, walking them out of the terminal. "So do you want to see him right away? I'm sure he'd fly down tonight."

Brennan stopped suddenly, stricken with panic. "Did you tell him I'm coming?"

Angela frowned, "No, but I don't see why not. Isn't that why you came back?"

Distracted, Brennan looked out into the distance at other planes taking off and landing. "Yes, but it has to be on my terms. Besides there is one more thing I have to do."


Brennan pulled her scarf more securely around her neck. Winter was fast on the heels of fall, and warm coats and hats were being dragged out of the back of closets all over the City. Despite the bitter weather, the City was alive with activity. Hordes of tourists blocked sidewalks, street vendors did a bang-up business in cheap pashminas, and card games continued with the participants huddled over the tables like roaring fires.

The cold wind hardly bothered Brennan though. She was warm, happy, and in love. And now she was going to him. Would be with him in moments.

Angela hadn't thought it such a great idea to surprise him, but Brennan didn't think so. He loved her, right? He was going to be shocked for sure, but she knew the moment after would find them falling into each other's arms, a la movie dénouement, credits rolling.

She slowed down as she approached the restaurant Ms. Hawley had told her Booth was dining. Ms. Hawley was surprised and thrilled to hear from Brennan, they talked for a half-hour before Brennan worked up the nerve to ask where she might find him. Ms. Hawley was only more than happy to tell her. She had seen her boss suffer too much in the past months, she was sure this was the woman for him, and she was going to help make it happen. She told Brennan she thought it might be a client dinner, but he definitely wouldn't mind being interrupted by her.

So now she stood in front of the big picture windows and peered in, scanning the crowd of diners. It was a large brasserie, packed to the gills, so it was difficult to find him. But like a magnet was guiding her, she zeroed in on the back of his head and his broad shoulders, ecstasy coursing through her veins. Before she could move, however, she saw the beautiful woman across the booth from him lean over and place a hand suggestively on his arm.

Fear and shock tore through her. She closed her eyes and opened them again, looking at the woman, hoping this time she wouldn't be quite That she would have aged a decade, would be sporting a hairy mole or have bad teeth. No. She was very beautiful. Sultry even, with a v-neck pink silk blouse plunging down to reveal two pert globes peeking out, long blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and big pouty red lips. Pouty lips that pursed out further when she reacted to something Booth had said. Brennan looked hard at the scene before her, analyzing it. Yes, the woman was definitely flirting with him.

Brennan backed up two steps and swung around till her back hit the wall of the restaurant. Ms. Hawley was wrong. This wasn't a client meeting.

It was a date.

She lurched towards the curb, certain she was going to throw up in the gutter. Dry heaves wracked through her body as she fought to control the onslaught of tears. Tourists veered a wide circle around her, but no one stopped to ask the beautiful woman in the black cashmere coat why she was about to throw up in the street.

She stood up, throwing her head back and gulping in big gusts of cold air. How could she be so stupid? she thought, walking away quickly from what was, in her opinion, a crime scene. She hadn't contacted him. Had forbid Angela to tell him anything about her plans. Of course he had moved on. He was single, rich, and attractive. He must have women throwing themselves at him.

Her stomach lurched again and she thought maybe she should get a cab before she hurled on anyone. She wasn't sure how long her stomach or the tears would hold off.

What Brennan didn't see as she fled the restaurant was the late arrival of an additional guest to the dinner. A heavy-set, handsome man shook Booth's hand then leaned down and tenderly kissed his wife on the lips.


Two days passed and Brennan had barely left the hotel room. It took all the energy she had not to just stay under the covers, but she rallied herself to shower, get dressed, and head out to the diner on the corner for breakfast. After, however, she retreated to the hotel room. Not to lick her wounds, she told herself, but to figure out another plan. One that didn't include Booth.

She forced herself to read a new book she picked up on the lost tribes of Papua New Guinea. Every other sentence was interrupted by her chaotic thoughts, but she dragged her eyes back to the page, forcing interest before her mind zoomed off again of its own accord.

A sharp knock at the door startled her. She assumed it was Angela who had tracked her down and was prepared to simultaneously offer comfort and chastise her for never calling. Brennan strode to the door and flung it open, her mouth ready to head her off at the pass with a preemptive apology and brisk dismissal of her heartache.

She was surprised to see Ms. Hawley standing their, her plum colored suit as starched and spotless as ever.

"Ms. Hawley," Brennan sputtered out. "What are you doing here?" Immediately Brennan realized her lack of manners. "I mean, would you like to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied as she stepped over the threshold. "Please call me Joan."

"Ok. Joan. Can I offer you anything to drink? I have..." her eyes frantically scanned the room and finding nothing suitable, continued sheepishly, "tap water and a warm Coke."

"No thank you," she replied as she sat on the only chair in the room. Her hands were crossed primly on her lap giving her the appearance of a much older woman, far beyond her 50 something years.

"I take it didn't go well the other night?"

Brennan laughed nervously. "No. No it didn't. I think you were mistaken. It wasn't a client her was seeing. It was a date." Brennan averted her eyes, suddenly finding the drapes fascinating.

"What happened?"

Brennan told her of the events of the night, leaving out the dry heaving in the gutter. "So you see, I was wrong to believe he would wait for me, that he truly loves me." Her breath hitched in her throat and she found it hard to continue. "He's moved on," she said, her eyes locked on the other woman's. "I can hardly blame him. I was the one who ran away. I was the one who rejected him in Tokyo, who never contacted him, who never let him know..." She couldn't continue as the tears spilled down her face. Ms. Hawley reached into her purse and handed her a tissue.

"My dear," Ms. Hawley said quietly. "You were wrong."

Brennan's head shot up and her gaze fixed on the other woman. "What do you mean?"

"He wasn't on a date. He was with a client."

"But she was so flirty with him." She wanted to say slutty, but didn't think she could use that word in front of Ms. Hawley. "I saw how she was with him."

"Her husband arrived late. She has no designs on him. I checked. He told me about the dinner and how her Southern Belle manners makes her appear more familiar than she really is."

Brennan felt all the breath leave her body in a big whoosh. "Really?" she said quietly, hopefully.

"Really." Ms. Hawley's eyes shined with mirrored happiness.

"Did you tell him about me?"

"No. I didn't feel it was my place."

Brennan paused, biting her lip. "What do you think I should do?"

Ms. Hawley smiled a conspiratorial smile. "I'm so glad you asked. I have an idea."


Ms. Hawley sat at her desk at precisely 9 AM as she always did, coffee in hand, reviewing the day's schedule, waiting for Mr. Booth to arrive. His schedule varied and sometimes he worked from home, but she hoped today wasn't one of those days.

She was relieved to hear his voice as he left the elevator, chatting with a sales analyst who worked on the opposite side of the floor. She wiggled in her chair, trying to relax, and took on a disinterested air as he approached.

"Good morning, Ms. Hawley," he said, his voice more chipper than usual. She looked up into his eyes and saw that he looked marginally better than he normally did. His brown eyes still seemed sad, but his spirits seemed higher.

"How did the meeting go?" she asked as casually as she could.

"As my father used to say, 'fan-damn-tastic'. Last night we reeled in a big one. You should expect a slew of calls from his people to finish everything up." While he spoke, he stood, like he always did, next to her desk looking at the appointments for the day.

He frowned, leaning forward to tap his finger on her monitor. "What's this?" he said, indicating an appointment at 11 AM. "I thought I told you to keep that clear. I gotta review all of those Q3 reports I've been putting off."

"Well," she said, choosing her words carefully, "You need to review a job applicant that Stevens sent along."

His lips drew into a thin line. "What position?" he said quietly, his voice at a dangerous octave.

"The EVP position with development."

He chose his words carefully. "I thought I told you that position was permanently closed."

"Stevens knew that. But I think he really needs the help. He asked me to slide it in while he's on his honeymoon in Bali." Ms. Hawley gave thanks to both God for arranging it, and for Richard Stevens, for being conveniently out of the country.

He looked closely at her and she wasn't sure if he could tell she was lying through her teeth. She knew from watching NOVA that people who lie tend to keep eye contact too long, so she shifted her attention down to her monitor dismissing him. She could hear him grumbling under his breath as he walked into his office closing the door.

She sighed heavily with relief and picked up her phone. Time for phase two.


Booth continued to grumble for the rest of the morning. His hard-won good mood of landing a big business deal evaporated, leaving behind a sour grudge at nothing in particular. He wasn't sure he could go through with the interview, but the look Ms. Hawley gave him when he tried to slough it off made him keep his fears to himself. It was the look she rarely gave him, the 'I-will-brook-no-argument' look. He never ignored that look.

As he approached her desk, she told him his next appointment was waiting for him in his office. She didn't, however, look up from her computer or offer him a greeting as she normally would. Instead, she stood up and grabbed her handbag out of the top-most drawer. "If you wouldn't mind, I need to take an early lunch break."

"Um, ok." She was acting strangely, avoiding his eyes. His sniper sense kicked in. "What's going on Joan?" He only used her given name in rare circumstances, normally when he was pissed at other people in the company and taking out his snippiness on her.

She gave him a blank look. "I don't know what you mean." She didn't wait to be interrogated further but moved past him towards the elevators with the same steady gait and grace she normally possessed.

Booth watched her go, the frown that arrived first thing in the morning etched deeper on his face.

He took a moment to gather himself and reached for the doorknob.

Once inside, it took him a minute for his eyes to adjust as all the lights had been turned off. The light from the windows was the only illumination, casting deep shadows in the corners. His eyes rested on a figure sitting at the conference table and his breath hitched in his throat.

She was here.

Sitting half in shadow, her face was turned towards him and the look of resolve and hardness made him step back, surprised. She was perfectly still, so still that he felt like if he turned on the lights she would disappear in a puff of smoke.

He wanted to smile, to say something to her, but her expression was so grim and unfathomable that he could only think to himself, she's not coming back to me. She's here for another reason.

She looked amazing, though. His eyes were starved for her and took in every inch of her he could see. Her brown hair was longer but just as soft and lush, her skin still creamy and flawless, her big blue eyes luminous. But they were unreadable, betraying nothing of what she might be feeling.

If she was feeling anything at all, he thought bitterly.

Brennan kept her gaze steady and cold tying desperately to ward off the storm of emotions she felt upon seeing his face after so long an absence. It was hard to not just jump in his arms and kiss him to death, but she needed to know. She needed to know if he wanted her in the same way, if he would do anything for her, as she had for him.

"Why are you here?" he asked quietly. Might as well not pretend she's happy to see me, he thought grudgingly.

She smiled indifferently. "Don't you think I'm here to interview for the job?"

He snorted and moved around his desk to sit down. "I highly doubt that's why you're here," he said, his patience thinning. It was impossible to be in the same room with her without yanking her into his arms and kissing the daylights out of her. She didn't seem to want that though, and it was pissing him off. "I kept away from you, like you asked," he spit out.

"Yes, and I appreciate it."

She said nothing else, just fixed those big blue eyes on him, trying to make him squirm. She wanted him totally unprepared for what she was going to ask of him next.

"What if," she said, slowly rising from her chair and walking towards the front of his desk, "I'm interviewing you?"

His head tilted to the side. "I don't get it."

"I was a good employee, yes, Mr. Booth? I did anything you ever asked, right? I never said no, no matter how depraved or humiliating the task was?"

His head tilted back slightly, chin raised. He just looked at her, eyes now as hard as hers. No way he was answering that question.

She put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "What if," she continued, "I wanted you to beg for it? Beg for the humiliation you showed me? Beg for the pain? Would you do it? Would you do it for me?"

Simultaneously Booth's jaw dropped and his pants tented. His eyes roved over her figure. Her blouse was green silk, too low cut to be office wear, he could see that now. She was wearing a pair of black trousers. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her in pants. He never let her wear them before.

He brought his gaze back to her eyes searching them for some hint of gentleness. There was none.

It didn't matter though, how cold and guarded she was. He loved her, and knew what she was asking of him. He would worship at her feet if that were what she wanted. He would beg for any kind of pain she could dish out, if that satisfied even a small part of her. Instead of saying all this he just said, "Yes."

She put her weight on her hands and effortlessly hopped up on the desk to a crouching position. Then she stood.

"Stand up," she ordered, and Booth pushed the chair back and stood looking up at his towering goddess. "Strip."

He quickly divested himself of clothes and stood before her, his cock already rigid and bobbing at attention. Her eyes swept over him, over his stomach with the ripping cords of muscles, over his strong thighs, over his shoulders, the ones she clung to so many times, that were just as wide and strapping as she remembered. He was a perfect male specimen. And he was hers.

"Stroke yourself." He flushed, feeling every inch of his nakedness but took his thick cock in his hand and began a long slow glide of his hand from the root to the tip. Watching him, Brennan felt a flush of her own as her womb began to pulse with need. She watched him for a few moments, noticed that he was moving too fast and reprimanded him. "Tsk tsk, Booth. We can't have that kind of satisfaction this soon can we? Besides, you didn't ask for permission."

Cock in hand, it occurred to Booth she was probably going to spank him. He wasn't sure if that terrified him or turned him on like hell. Or both.

"Come here," she said. She walked to the edge of the desk and as he walked forward his face inches from her crotch. She grabbed him by the hair and roughly ground his face into her pussy. "While I'm contemplating your punishment I would like you to make me come."

She drew his hand to the button on her pants and fingers fumbling he slid them down her legs, gritting his teeth to stop himself from tearing them from her body. This was her fantasy, he had to remember that, but he wanted to taste her pussy so badly he thought he might actually be drooling. He could smell her muskiness through her pants when she held him against her and it nearly drove him wild.

He forced his hands to go slow and steady as he shed one leg then the other from his beautiful goddess. She was wearing red low cut hip huggers that were so delicious looking Booth wondered why he ever outlawed panties in the first place.

He went to remove them, but she swatted his hand away. "Work around them," she said harshly. She wasn't ready to be naked around him, just yet. She wanted to keep the upper hand, at least for a little while longer. Total nakedness would lead quickly to abandonment of plan and immediate impalement on his cock.

With the tips of his fingers he pushed aside the wispy material and buried his face into her dripping wet pussy, slick and swollen with need. His tongue lapped up her juices and trailed around the folds like it was getting reacquainted with a long lost friend. He began eating her out, taking big soft bites of the meat of her pussy, making her moan and thrust her hips forward into his face. He closed his eyes, letting the taste of her permeate every sense.

His hands came around to grind her ass into his face further. He didn't see the need to breathe and would happily suffocate trapped between this woman's thighs. His tongue trailed further up to her clit and it swirled the bud around before sucking it up into his mouth. She gasped and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer. Two fingers found her folds and thrust up hard into her center. She felt her entire body shudder and her head tipped back, not with orgasm, but with overwhelming joy that this man whom she loved, had entered her once more, even if it was just with his fingers. Fingers pumping in and out and mouth latched to her clit sucking with a pulsing rhythm, it didn't take long before Brennan peaked with such intensity, the orgasm seemed to last for minutes, instead of mere seconds. She felt her juices pool onto his tongue as he lapped them up like the good dog she was treating him as.

She shuddered, her body arched over him, clutching at his head like she was holding on for dear life. If this is part of my punishment, he thought, I hope it can go on forever.

She broke apart suddenly, remembering her mission, resisting the urge to cling to him. She pushed him away from her and forced him down into the chair. Jumping down, she leaned over him, grabbing his cock and stroking it slowly. "You, Seeley Booth, are going to pay for every humiliating moment you gave me. You'll pay for every girl you spanked raw, for every throat you forced your cock down. She kneeled in front of him and drew him into her mouth, sucking hard on the head. His cock was so hard it was almost turning purple with engorgement. He let out a small moan at feeling her hot little mouth on him now taking him fully in and bobbing up and down.

At the sound of the moan she stopped and dug her nails deeply into his thighs. "No noise. Not one sound should pass those dirty lips of yours, are we clear?"

He nodded. His brain had ceased to function, he only wanted to please her. He couldn't believe how much this was turning him on.

"Stand up and close your eyes." He did as he was told. He heard her walking around the room, heard a bag unzip and heard her returning. There was a rustle of clothing, and then he felt her lean into him and gather his arms around her. She was naked and felt glorious against his skin, the hard peaks of her nipples brushed against his chest, her hair fell over his shoulders. Of their own accord his hands came up to cup her bottom, pulling her to him. The next moan was her own as she began to move against him, grinding his erection against her soft belly. Her head tilted up to his and she captured his mouth in a long soulful kiss, sliding her tongue past the barrier of his lips to plunge into the hot depths. He clutched her tighter, returning the grind, desperate to enter her, to return home.

She stepped back for a moment then retuned to him, leaning in to kiss him softly on the side of the mouth. Then he felt her draw his hands together and before he realized what was happening she slipped a plastic cuff on him like they use on police shows. His eyes flew open and down as he assessed his situation. She smirked at him, and backed away, her eyes full of ill intent. He knew then he was in for a world of pain.

For Booth, up until that moment he felt like had some semblance of control. Like he had the power to turn the turn the tables if he wished. Maybe over-power her, flip her around and fuck her senseless on the desk. But now he was trapped, defenseless, and naked. And about to be whipped, he reminded himself with a grimace. It was a position he never, ever expected to find himself in. When he looked at her though, he knew why he was here. He watched her circle him, looking intently for weak spots on his body to torture. For this woman he would do anything. Anything she needed to get whatever demons she had lurking within her exercised. He was willing to be vulnerable for her, let his own insecurities be exposed and mocked, let his body be marked and broken.

She kicked the chair out of the way and continued to circle him. "See, in cheesy pornos, this would be the moment I'd spank you with a feather and then make you beg me for an orgasm. But we both know it's not going down like that. I'm going to inflict as much pain on you as you have on every single woman you've ever fucked. Real pain, not pretend sexy pain." She was behind him as she spoke the last sentence and he was happy she did not see how hard he swallowed, for the first time feeling fear at the pain that was coming.

He wasn't prepared for the next moment when a riding crop nearly tore through the flesh of his upper back.

"Jesus H. Christ that hurt," he said, forgetting his promise to be silent.

"What did you say?" Suddenly she was right in his face, her own face red, expression furious.

"Nothing. Sorry."

"I'm afraid you just made it much worse for yourself, little boy." She stretched out that last word, enjoying the flinch it evoked. She noted how his cock twitched.

She walked around him again, momentarily forgetting her plan for total Booth domination and more to appreciate his physique. She had almost forgotten how perfect his body was, especially without clothes. She felt her pussy gush as she surveyed his broad chest that narrowed to rippled abs then further down to his beautiful cock standing at attention as if it heard her clarion call. Moving behind him she couldn't help but reach out and squeeze both buttocks with her hands, slipping a finger between his ass cheeks to brush the puckered hole with her pinky. He bucked forward, careful to keep his hands away from his cock. She reached around with a free hand and began to stroke it for him, leaning her cheek against his back, her nipples grazing his flesh. Bringing her lips to his shoulders she began to suck hard, leaving a trail of hickies across the broad expanse. She heard him groan softly and chuckled as she felt him push his hips forward, trying to accelerate the pace.

She removed her hand from his ass and grabbed the crop from the desk. Keeping a firm grip and steady rhythm on his cock, she thrashed him hard across the buttocks noting with satisfaction the welt that instantly appeared. He cried out, his hips bucking forward and his cock pulsing in her hand.

The whip came down again, and Booth's eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to keep himself in check, from both creaming all over the carpet and shouting Brennan's name in a hoarse cry that would be heard all over the building.

The blows rained down steadier now as she continued to stroke his cock or fondle his ball sac, but paused when she sensed his orgasm was nearing. His back was as red as a stop sign and long welts crisscrossed the expanse and continued past his buttocks to his upper thighs. She inspected his face, watched his eyes shut tightly each time he took a blow. Meanwhile she kept up a stead stream of insults and humiliations. "You're such a bad boy Seeley, hurting all those women, you should be ashamed." "You like this, don't you? You're nothing but a worthless slut, yes slut…just like the women you degrade…."

He never said a word or made a sound, not a moan or a plea for her to stop. Inside fires had broken out and were raging uncontrolled. He was turned on, disgusted with himself, furious at her, sick with wanting, ashamed of his past actions, desperate to come, and finally nearly moved to tears by his wanting of her.

He broke the silence as she stopped the whipping and continued the slow glide of her palm against his hard member. "Please," he whispered softly, hoping she could hear.

She stopped her hand. "What did you say," she said, her voice now tinged with almost as much desperation as his. Her body was throbbing and nearing the boiling point.

"Please," he repeated. He couldn't look at her.

Her hand cupped his balls as she whispered into his ear. "Yes, my love, you may come. But only because I need you hard as nails for Act 2." His eyes fluttered as she said that, fear mixed with intense longing.

Standing in front of him, she stroked him harder and faster, one hand on his cock, the other massaging his balls. She nuzzled and sucked softly on a tender part of his neck causing shivers to collide with the furious thumping of his heart and his cock. She rubbed her body up and down his rhythmically, each slide of her breasts against his chest setting his nerve endings on fire.

Feeling him shudder, she dropped to her knees and sucked his cock into her mouth, keeping up the furious pumping with her hand. He cried out and exploded into her mouth, rivers of come sliding down her throat as she looked up into his eyes and swallowed it all down. His hands came up to bury themselves in her hair, his eyes fixed on hers as she drank in the last of him. He stroked her hair and pushed it back behind her ears and smiled at her. She stood and pecked him on the lips.

Her eyes darkened. "Ready for Act 2?"

His smile faltered as he wondered what else she had up her sleeve.

At the look of the light dimming in his eyes, she softened, pushing him back into the chair. "Fuck Act 2," she said, and walked to the desk to retrieve scissors. She cut off the handcuffs and after throwing the scissors back on the desk climbed onto his lap straddling him. His cock was hard again and hot against her belly and she purred, the sound low and hot and reverberating from her breast to his. Her hands wrapped themselves in his hair as she captured his lips in a crushing kiss.

Tentatively his hands came up to cup her bottom, his palms caressing the milky soft globes. His hands roved her body, as if it were a blind man memorizing a face. He had missed every inch of her, wanted to keep touching her, afraid she might disappear, like if he didn't map every curve and hill she would cease to exist.

He reached between them and fingers locked on the little bundle of nerves, stroked rapidly. She inched back on his thighs so he could bring his other hand down to dive into her slick slit. His eyes rolled back in his head when he felt how hot and wet she was for him. She held onto his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut, breasts bobbing in his face as she rode his fingers. God, she was so glorious, he thought, gazing worshipfully up at her.

Her entire being contracted and released in an orgasm so powerful she saw stars behind her eyes and thought she might pass out. She felt the come pour out of her onto his hand, something she had never felt before and attributed to pent up passion. He smeared it all over her pussy, growling in her ear.

Without a word or sound she scooched forward and rising up positioned herself on the tip of his cock. She could feel his cock pulsing against her slit. Her eyes locked on his as she lowered herself down on him slowly and with a deep sigh. She was finally home.

Eyes locked, they rode through the gathering storm together. His hands were everywhere on her, twisting her nipples, pinching her clit, and finally a single digit lodged in her ass sent her over the edge again, consciousness threatened again, even though she never wanted him to stop.

The rhythm quickened, Booth's hands now on her hips, picked her up and crashed her again and again on his cock. He didn't think he could hold out much longer. A moment later he heard her strangled cry and he let himself go with a howl, furiously thrusting into her till he fell over the edge, his mouth fused to her, his seed lodging deep in her womb. At that moment he knew they were bound to each other for life, as there seemed to be no end to her body and the start of his.

Afterwards they clung so desperately to each other it might appear to an outsider to be tearful goodbye instead of a joyful homecoming.

They murmured unintelligible words into each other's bodies, the slick of their sweat drying and adhering them to each other. She nuzzled into his throat and he thought he heard her say 'I love you'.

He pulled back and lifted her chin to meet his eyes, his eyes that begged her to repeat it. To mean it.

She swallowed, feeling as though her life was on the line. As dramatic as it sounded in her head, her life without him would be cold, barren. "I do," she whispered, sounding as nervous as would-be bride. "I love you." Her eyes were shining, not with tears, but with the light that was in her bursting forth.

The tears that formed in Booth's eyes were real tears, his heart and lungs and loins roaring forth all at once. He felt him self growing hard inside her, incredibly hard, and moaned as he felt her shift her hips and grind against him. His hands reached up to grasp her face in a soft kiss.

They moved together slowly and gently this time, taking all the time in the world, because they knew they had it.

He picked her up and laid her gently on the floor and climbed on top of her, slipping back inside of her. They made love in the missionary position, not a favorite for either of them in the past, but now seemed to hold the most intimacy. Their faces were inches apart, and when they weren't kissing, they gazed into each other's eyes, reveling in the sight of each other. He rolled her over and watched her undulate on top of him, her ass rising and falling on his cock. His fingers worked between them and twisted her clit as she writhed above him, like a sea goddess. He spilled himself into her when he heard her cry of passion.

As they lay panting on the floor next to the desk she lifted her head from his chest with a slightly annoyed expression on her face.

"So," she said. "Do you love me?"

He hugged her tighter. "I love you Temperance Brennan. I want to marry you and have babies with you and make love in the back of cars and travel the world and never leave your side. I want to take care of you when you're sick, celebrate success and milestones with you and," he paused, "I even promise to love you with morning breath."

She smiled and batted him playfully on the shoulder. "My morning breath isn't that bad."

"Oh, I beg to differ."

She growled, in mock anger, "At least I'm kind enough to put up with your dragon breath without complaint."

"Tit for tat will only get you tickled." He rolled over on top of her and dug a finger painfully under her arm. She squealed with laughter, trying to squirm away from him, but his heavier body held her in place.

"Ok, ok, I give," she panted, helpless from laughter.

His eyes turned serious. "Uncle?"

Remembered grief shot through her like a blinding light. "Booth, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt you like that, I was so confused about what this was, is. And what my role, my part was. "

"Shhh," he said, reaching a hand to splay her long hair across the carpet. "It doesn't matter now."

"It does. I had no idea what you went through with Rebecca and I never bothered to ask. That was so wrong. I'm so sorry."

She added, "Would you consider forgiving me?"

Rolling off her, he pulled her onto his lap. "Already done, my love. In fact, I've blamed myself more for this mess than you. I was so set in controlling everything and every woman around me, I waited until it was almost too late to notice the one woman who would love me totally, who would never betray me. The question is, do you forgive me?"

"Yes," she said quietly, her eyes saying far more than her lips.

His hand came up to cup her breast as they exchanged a deep soulful kiss that would have made her knees collapse if she weren't already sitting down.

His kisses trailed down her neck. "So does that mean you'll accept the job?" he said half in jest.


His head shot up. "No?" he replied, surprised.

"I'm going back to school."

"For business?"

"No, for forensic anthology. I want to study the skeletal evolution of ancient cultures."

"Huh. So I guess I really can start calling you 'Bones' now."

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Who told you that was my nickname?" The amused look on his face made it obvious, and she blushed, "Never mind. You can call me Bones if I can call you Booth."

"Deal. Booth and Bones. It has a nice ring to it."

She snuggled into him, giving him better access to her neck, which he continued to pepper with kisses.

He looked up suddenly into her eyes. "I'm your slave, you know that don't you?" he said, intensity making his voice crack with need.

"And I'm yours."

"Does that mean I still get to spank you?" He nuzzled her ear with his nose, his lips trailing a line of soft kisses that made a shiver race up her spine.

"Yes, but only when I've been bad." She wriggled her bottom on his lap provocatively.

He grinned impishly and reached a hand down to squeeze her ass. "Let's see if we can find a way for you to misbehave."



Author's note: I do so hope you've enjoyed this smutty little interlude with our favorite couple. Be sure to leave a review if you'd like.