Characters: Booth, Brennan
Rating: M or R
Summary: Exactly what the title says.
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: So, this one's a little different. ;)
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Click to read Part I.
2. Her breasts
They're spectacular; he's sure of it. He can count on one hand the number of times he's seen her in a dress, or a shirt with a low neck, but every time he has, he's been unable to tear his gaze away from those perfect curves and that mysterious valley. He considers himself a gentleman, but he's still a guy. Come on, what kind of guy would he be if he didn't look?
Thankfully, she's never noticed him staring at them before. He's positive about that. Because if she had, he knows she wouldn't blush or hit him, like any other woman would. No, Bones' eyes would light up, and she'd take a big breath.
Then he'd have to sit through a lecture on the anthropological significance of men loving breasts.
As if he could give a shit about that. All he knows is that God knew what he was doing when he made breasts.
In one of his favorite fantasies, it's late at night, and there's no one else at the Jeffersonian. She's dressed in that really unsexy blue labcoat and is sitting on her office couch. Her hair is scraped back into one of those no-nonsense ponytails she likes to wear when she's at the lab. He comes up behind her and tugs the elastic band out so her hair spills over her shoulders. Then he comes around the couch so he's facing her--and unbuttons and removes her labcoat. Underneath, she's wearing a plain black t-shirt that fits her just right. When he pushes her onto her back, she starts to speak, but he shakes his head and shushes her with one finger to his mouth.
For once, she listens.
The couch isn't very big, but they manage. He touches her through her shirt, and she arches up into his hands, begging for more with her eyes and her breath.
He helps her pull the shirt over her head. The bra she's wearing isn't anything special, but it's perfect because underneath it are her breasts. She gasps and closes her eyes when he mouths her through the fabric, teasing her nipples into tiny peaks that make his cock throb.
It isn't enough—for either of them.
So he reaches behind her back and unsnaps her bra. Takes him a minute, but he gets there. He's wanted this for so long that he doesn't bother taking it off; he just pushes it up.
He's always wondered if her nipples are pink or brown or something in-between. Now he knows they're the color of milk chocolate, but he needs to know if they're just as sweet.
His eyes close, and he blindly maps their weight and texture with his hands and mouth. Her fingers fist in his hair and she shudders against him.
No—they're even sweeter.
"Booth...? Booth, hello. Are you listening to me?” She's frowning at him. Bad sign.
He blinks and swallows. “Uh, sorry, Bones. Could you repeat that?”