No need to be anybody but oneself. (only_more_love) wrote,
No need to be anybody but oneself.

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Bones Fic: Presbyopia (2/4)

Title:  Presbyopia (2/4)
Chapter Title:  Treatment Modalities
Characters:  Booth, Brennan
Prompt: Glasses
This is set sometime after The Santa in the Slush.
None yet.
Presbyopia is the loss of the eye's ability to change focus to see near objects, but sometimes it makes other things crystal clear.
See, xhio86  , I told you an update was coming soon. ;)

I lied, albeit unintentionally; this has three parts.

If you've read Ch. 1, you know this was meant to be at least somewhat on the lighter, funnier side. I hope you won't hate me for that.
Disclaimer:  Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.

Click here for fic index.
Chapter 1:  Diagnosis

Chapter 2: Treatment Modalities

Inching closer, Brennan trailed a finger along Booth's bare forearm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps and a growing tightness in his pants. He swallowed. “Bones,” he said, suddenly clueless about what else he intended to say. The word came out a little husky, so he cleared his throat and fumbled for a way to extract himself from what he knew in his gut -- and other parts -- was coming -- without embarrassing either of them.

“Booth,” she replied. Her warm breath misted across his cheek, almost pulling a groan from him before he forced himself to swallow it.

"How about pizza?" he asked, hopefully, working to lean in the opposite direction without looking like that was what he was doing. "I've got some Domino's coupons in the kitchen, and let's face it, we haven't done pizza in way too long."

Idiot. Booth grimaced and mentally smacked himself in the head. Despite knowing he was babbling like a world-class moron who'd never talked to a girl in his life, suave Seeley Booth couldn't seem to shut up -- or summon any of the infamous charm he was used to using on the ladies. Get a grip; you really are getting old, man.

A good soldier knew when to retreat. But just as he was about to stand and escape to his kitchen in order to regroup and consider another strategy, Brennan grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt and yanked downward.

Booth found himself sprawled on top of his partner, the sudden move having caught him off-guard.

Gritting his teeth against the feel of Brennan wriggling underneath him and creating an all-too-pleasant friction against his crotch, Booth closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This breath brought with it the taste of Brennan's perfume, and for just a moment, Booth allowed himself to wonder how she'd taste if she spread her thighs and opened herself to his hands and his mouth.

When he dared to open his eyes, Brennan looked up at him with a slight smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "I know what you're going to say," she said, her left hand painting small circles on his shoulder. From anyone else, the motion might have been soothing. Since it was Brennan doing the touching, it only made him ache for her.

"You do?" he asked, desperately trying to ignore the way her full, soft breasts were pressed against his chest.

"Of course," she replied, shooting him her patented I'm-Dr.-Temperance-Brennan-and-you're-an-imbecile look. "You're going to remind me of the metaphorical line between us and tell me that to cross it would bring dire consequences -- perhaps even the hellfire and damnation your religion is so fond of mentioning."

"Well, maybe not hellfire and damnation, Bones, but--"

The rest of his words evaporated as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of the tailored white shirt that taunted him every single time she wore it -- and spread it open so that he could just make out the tantalizing curve of the breasts he'd been dreaming about for an insanely long time. The tip of Brennan's tongue slipped out to wet her lips; Booth's hard-on throbbed in response. He struggled for control.

He was only a man. Only human. He couldn't fight his body's response to this woman, to the press of her curves and the flash of those gray-blue eyes as she looked at him with desire written so clearly on her face he thought she might blush if she could only see herself right now...but he'd be damned before he'd hurt her or be a part of something she could regret.

Booth lifted himself onto his arms. This had the unfortunate effect of bringing their lower bodies closer together. His muscles strained, not from the effort of holding him up, but because of the contact between him and Brennan. Sweat broke out on Booth's forehead, and he had a quick exchange with The Big Man. Dear God, if this is a test, so far I'm failing.

Simultaneously, he had a chat with The Other Big Man, the one in his pants, that went something like this:

Dude, don't fight it. She wants you.

This is Bones.

Hell yeah, it's Bones -- the same Bones that's played the starring role in your last fifty fantasies. Loved that last one, by the way; the little skirt was a nice touch--

Shut up. You don't understand; I can't do that to her.

Fine. You don't have to do anything. It's a dirty, dirty job, so let me do it. I'll take one for the team.

A hand at his jaw brought him back.

"I want you" -- she blinked and dragged her thumb across his bottom lip -- "and you want me," she said, her stark words bringing a wash of warmth to his cheeks. "I can feel it." She tipped her hips up, boldly rubbing her heat against him, and he swore under his breath because he wanted so badly to undo the jeans that clung so sweetly to Brennan's curves and slide them down those long, long legs. "Don't even try to deny it."

He almost laughed; it was just a little too late for denial.

His glasses slipped down his nose, but Brennan helpfully pushed them back up. "You're the one who's always pushing me to take more chances. 'Lighten up and live a little, Bones,'" she said, mimicking him with surprising accuracy.

When he tried to roll off her and get up, she hooked a leg over his hip. Oh, hell. Sure, he could have forced her to let him go, but something that wasn't physical held him frozen in place.

She shrugged a slim shoulder. How she could look so casual, so calm, he had no idea. "But then," she said, her narrowed eyes signaling her intent to go in for the kill, "I suppose it's easier to dole out advice than it is to live by it."

"Hey, that's not fair," he protested, feeling a hint of anger begin to mix in with the crazy cocktail of other emotions swirling inside him.

"Isn't it?" She sniffed, somehow managing to seem like she was looking down her nose at him when in fact, she was looking up. "Tell me something, Booth, when are you going to live a little? Don't you ever get tired of being pious and noble?"

He barked a laugh. "You think I'm being pious and noble? If you knew what I wanted to do to you right now," he muttered.

"So go ahead, Booth. I'm listening," she said, threading a hand through his hair and tugging his face closer to hers. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

To be continued...

As always, many, many thanks for reading. :) And if you have time, I would certainly love to hear what you thought, even if it's just a short sentence.

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Tags: bones, bones: fic, fic, presbyopia
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