Age of Discovery
Story Rating: M
Chapter Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. I am, however, interested in renting Booth. A five-hour minimum would apply.
A/N: Wow, "Age of Discovery" is approaching its one-year anniversary! Can you believe it? Me neither :-)
Okay, so where I live, people shoot off fireworks to celebrate the new year. Alas, incendiary devices make me a bit nervous, but perhaps I can offer a different kind of fireworks in the spirit of the season!
Happy new year, folks!
Chapter 18: Interrupted
I was sitting in my office trying to work my way through a stack of graduate student papers when my cell phone rang.
Annoyed at being interrupted again for what seemed the twentieth time that morning, I grabbed the phone and answered, but not before I briefly considered pushing the ringer-off key and ignoring it completely. I didn't want to talk to anyone at that point. I wanted to work and to get all the way through the stack of student papers by five o'clock. The constant interruption was making that prospect exceedingly unlikely.
"Brennan," I sighed exasperatedly.
There was a second of staticky silence on the line.
"I can't stop thinking about this morning, baby..."
His voice was deep, thick and breathy, the way it was that morning when I felt his hand slip between my thighs.
"Damn, you feel so fuckin' good," he'd whispered in the dark, his lips brushing across my shoulder blade as each puff of his hot breath warmed my skin and sent a shiver racing up my spine. "I wake up hard every fuckin' day because of you."
I'd moved my legs a little in a scissors-like shift and felt a sudden rush of wet warmth pool between my legs as his forefingers slid along my folds and grazed my clit.
"You always feel so good in the morning," he said, his voice so rich that I could swear he was leaning over my shoulder and not a mile away at the J. Edgar Hoover Building. "I can't believe how soft your skin feels in the morning, all warm and silky after being under the covers all night. One touch and I want to taste every fucking inch of you…."
"Booth," I groaned, twirling my desk chair around to position myself with my back to the door so no one would see the deep blush that had swept over my face at the sound of his voice and the memory of that morning's decadent wake-up call. "I'm trying to work. You can't just—"
"All I can think about is how fucking good you felt when you came around me this morning," he told me, his voice dark and edged with what I can only describe as recklessness. "And how fucking hard I came inside of you."
The consonants came harshly, his c's and k's sounding almost aggressive as he spoke, thrumming something deep in the pit of my belly.
"And, oh my God, how fucking bad I want to bury myself inside you again."
His words and his voice were like sex itself, musky and rich, cutting through me and taking root in the center of me as if he'd crept up on me and taken me from behind, right there in my office.
He'd been so hard that morning, harder than could be explained away as an example of ordinary nocturnal tumescence. He had barely begun stroking me with his fingers when I felt his calloused fingertips slip away, skimming the inside of my thigh as he pressed into me from behind, so hard and hot and thick it took my breath away when I felt him bottom out inside of me, grinding firmly enough against me I could feel the soft, gentle roll of his balls against the underside of my ass.
I felt my skin flush—not just my cheeks and my ears, but my pinkening my chest and arms, too—and I knew my body was reacting to the latent want in his sultry speech.
"Booth," I protested, my voice weak and reedy as I felt my arousal coil tighter with every word he spoke. "Please. I'm trying to—"
"I can't help it, baby," he said, his low voice peaking a little, cracking almost. I imagined him sitting at his desk in the Hoover, his brown eyes dilated and dark as he held his phone between his shoulder and the pebbled edge of his jaw.
"Every week, your body changes, and damn, those curves of yours get better and better, and it gets tougher and tougher not to want to just fuck your beautiful goddamn brains out the second I see you smile because I know that's my baby growing inside of you and I know it's crazy but it makes me so fucking hard just thinking about it..."
I felt my whole body just clench inside and I swallowed, hoping that no one came walking into my office right then because there was no way I could conceal the fact that I was hot, flustered and very aroused. Though the thermostat in the lab is normally kept at a relatively cool 74° Fahrenheit, it felt as though my core body temperature had climbed a couple of degrees in the minute since I answered the phone.
"Booth," I pleaded, my voice deepening, coming out as more of a moan than a reproach. I couldn't rid my mind of the memory of what it felt like when his rolling thrusts slowed and he let go, flooding me with his release as his hand cupped the firm swell of my abdomen. "We said we weren't going to do this," I chided him. "We agreed we'd keep things professional during work hours and—"
"I know it, baby," he breathed into the phone.
I gave up on trying not to remember how quickly he hardened when I took him in my mouth. He was slick with his come and mine, and he'd tasted like a gloriously sweet and tart mix of both of us. One taste, one tiny taste, and my body cried out for more as I sucked him hard again. It didn't take long before he threaded his hands through my hair and pressed his fingertips into my scalp as he beckoned me to come up and straddle him.
"I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it," he sighed. "You're so fucking sexy and you feel so fucking good when I'm inside of you, I can't stand it. I can't stop thinking about it, Bones. No matter how many times I have you, it's never enough."
I heard a quiet sound, like a growl or a groan, though I wasn't sure which.
"I can't wait to be inside of you again," he whispered, and I felt his admission shoot straight through me like a lance. "Six hours seems too damn long."
My breath hitched in my throat as my willpower suddenly fractured and I glanced at the time display on my desk phone.
"Hacker's staff meeting is at 2:30?" I croaked.
A second of static-filled silence passed as I imagined his eyes widening with surprise and interest as his mouth, that wonderfully kissable mouth of his, curved into a wicked grin.
"Pick you up in fifteen?" he asked, his voice cracking on the edges as I wondered if his strong, veiny hands were trembling as much as mine were.
"I'll meet you outside," I replied, the syllables tumbling from my lips like a reflex.
All I heard was the jangle of keys on the other side and a beep as the line went dead.
A/N:I really have no idea where these things come from... *evil laugh* The muse is a very confusing and random force.
Let me know you're out there. If you're reading and lurking, remember—if a tree falls in the forest and no one leaves a review, does it make a sound? ;-)
Thanks for reading, and happy new year to all!