Chapter Title: Going Under
Chapter: 8/? [WIP]
Rating: M or NC-17
Word Count: 2989
Summary: Thoughts of Booth are keeping Brennan awake at night. Question is, what is she going to do about it? This story is set in Season 2, after Episode 11.
Spoilers: Through 2x11 (Judas on a Pole)
Disclaimer: Bones and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Many thanks to those who commented on the last chapter; you have no idea how much that means to me. :) This is for Ali; I think she might be the only person who realized what song I borrowed the title for this story from. For anyone who's interested in hearing Meredith Brooks' What Would Happen, you can watch the video here. Fantastic song.
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Prologue & Chapter 1
Chapter 8: Going Under
Caught in a chasm between desire and caution, Brennan stared at her partner. He looked back at her, regarding her steadily. She envied him his calm. It seemed somehow unfair that his brow was smooth, his expression as untroubled as the surface of a still lake, while her heart pounded and her thoughts whirled.
Seconds trickled by like drops of water until finally, she made her choice. Sighing softly, she acceded to Booth’s request and slid down to lie in his bed again. His lips quirked upward in approval, and she pressed her hands into the sheets, concentrating on the feel of the fabric against her palms and fingers in an effort to center her herself.
“Relax, Bones,” he said, reading her unease so easily it would have disturbed her if she weren’t already feeling chastised for having been caught in a lie. “Don’t over-think things.”
Lulled by the repeated sweep of his thumb across her cheek, Brennan sank into the silence, her eyes falling closed for several comfortable moments before they slowly reopened. It felt good to be touched. Almost unbearably so.
Sometimes, in the long months between lovers, she forgot how much solace and satisfaction existed in the simple contact of skin against skin – touch that had nothing to do with sex or release. For the second time that night, she asked herself if it was possible to miss something without realizing you missed it.
“You know,” Booth said, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug, “if you really want to leave, you can go anytime you want.”
Therein lay the crux of the problem: she didn’t want to leave. Nor did she believe that Booth was as indifferent to her choice as he might like her to think; he’d proven that already. A smile rose unbidden to her lips.
Booth’s gaze sharpened. “What?” he asked, his hand whispering over her hair.
She shook her head and fought the urge to sigh and curl into his hand. “It’s nothing.”
“Must be something.” He lifted an eyebrow, his skepticism evident, then pulled the lid off the ice cream carton. “Open up,” he said, holding a half a spoonful of ice cream to her lips.
Raising her head slightly, she obeyed, and Booth slid the spoon into her mouth. He blinked, a smile flickering around the edges of his mouth as he watched her chew the piece of cookie dough that had been hidden in the ice cream. She swallowed and then licked her lips. Just as she was about to speak, he leaned over and kissed her, his mouth cold and sweet and tasting faintly of chocolate. His tongue curled against hers, and she rested her hand at his throat, feeling his pulse thud beneath her touch. No, he certainly wasn’t indifferent to her presence.
She shivered when Booth pulled away and carefully set the carton beside him before moving to lie on his side next to her, his head propped on one hand. “Tell me,” he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
If his tone had been strident, she could have refused. Since he asked instead of demanded, she hesitated for only a handful of seconds before turning her head on the pillow to look at him, taking in his unruly hair and warm gaze before she said, “I like… being here.” Truthfully, Brennan wasn’t certain those few words communicated much at all, but she didn’t trust herself to say anything more.
But Booth seemed to understand. A wide smile stretched across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and she felt oddly pleased that she’d put that smile there. He slid closer, the hair on his legs skimming against her, and pulled the blanket down to her waist, exposing her bare skin. Before she even had a chance to feel cold, his warm hand settled on her abdomen.
“And I like having you here,” he said. He paused, smoothing circles over her skin as he bent to place his mouth near her ear. His breath tickled her, sending a waterfall of sensation cascading down her spine. “I’ve gotta say, you’re a lot hotter out of your lab coat than in it.”
She wrinkled her nose at Booth’s teasing, inwardly pleased by his backhanded compliment. She would need to be careful with this man; he understood her entirely too well.
“In fact,” he said, pulling back to look her in the eye, “maybe you should think about working naked.” Moving his hand up, he traced a finger against the underside of her breast.
Her nipples tightened even though he hadn’t touched them directly; she was sure he noticed. Laughing even as the pleasure of the casual caress registered in what felt like every nerve in her body, Brennan rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, because that would be so practical.”
“Good point.” Booth winked, eyes lit with mischief, and flashed her a lascivious grin that made her stomach flutter. “We’d never solve any crimes because I’d have a permanent hard-on.”
She arched an eyebrow, trying to ignore her growing arousal. “That’s not what I meant.” This – the repartee – thrust and parry – she was used to. She’d even grown used to the pressure of his hand at her back, the weight of his arm slung across her shoulders, and his large body encroaching on her space in a way she didn’t permit with anyone else.
But his hands on her naked body, well, that was wholly new and unique.
“I know.” His eyes narrowed. “Plus I’d have to shoot every man who looked at you. Then I’d lose my job, and…” With a rueful sigh, Booth shook his head. “Never mind. No working naked.”
It was a ludicrous conversation they were having. Still, Brennan knew she should object – say something about how she didn’t belong to him and also was more than capable of taking care of herself. However, because Booth had lowered his head and was currently engaged in nibbling at her throat and trailing kisses along her jawline, it wasn’t a sharp retort that issued from her lips but a quiet moan.
“You like that, huh?” The husky note in his voice made her clench her legs together.
“Mmm,” she replied, letting her head fall to the side. Though she’d shown up on Booth’s doorstep the night before intending to seduce him, she was under no illusion about who was doing the seducing now. And there was something powerfully seductive about knowing that the man who was at this moment teasing her with his mouth and hands was the very same man with whom she’d shared countless meals and exchanged a number of secrets. This man was Booth, she thought, shivering as the realization settled somewhere deep inside her.
“This might be the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Booth said, brushing her hair aside and laughing softly against her throat. “Except for when you’re puttering around the lab ogling bones,” he amended. “I guess now I know how to shut you up.”
Brennan scratched the short, bristly hair at the nape of Booth’s neck, then moved her hands to his bare back and shoulders, feeling muscle and bone. “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” she said, the words slipping out in a lazy drawl. It wouldn’t do to have him feel too sure of himself; her partner had a marked tendency toward arrogance.
She arched her back, all too aware of her own wetness, her body’s undeniable response to Booth’s warm breath and the light scrape of his teeth against her. “And I most definitely do not ‘putter,’ as you put it.”
He lay half-sprawled over her, his body a comfortable weight, until he edged downward, kissing a long, sweet, damp line down her throat to between her breasts. Though it seemed impossible that she would want him again so soon, she did. When Booth pulled away, sitting up, and the cool air rushed back in, she moaned in protest, her hands reaching for him.
A sparkle overtook his eyes as he smiled down at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She hadn’t asked for his reassurance, but he’d offered it nonetheless. “Close your eyes,” he said, and his hand swept down over her forehead and eyes.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I asked you to.”
She grasped his hand and lifted it from her face. Unable to resist baiting him, she etched her thumb over the kanji on his wrist and raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s not a particularly compelling reason, Booth.”
“Be nice,” he said, shaking his finger at her in mock rebuke.
She responded by nipping his finger.
He frowned. “Biting me won’t get you on my good side.”
“I wasn’t aware you had one.”
“Then I guess you have a short memory,” he said with a smirk. “Now close your eyes.” Upon seeing her narrowed eyes, he rolled his own and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Please.”
“All right.” She shut her eyes and waited. The quiet lengthened between them. With her eyes closed, her other senses seemed more prominent. There – a distant creak as the building sighed and settled. A tapping sound overhead as someone moved in one of the units above them. Booth seated next to her, his presence tangible in the heat from his body. She inhaled deeply, scenting him, herself, them. Was he watching her?
She wavered, a glimmer of uncertainty flaring inside her, but then willed her eyes to remain closed and her body to stay still. Finally, the sheets rustled. The bed dipped as Booth moved toward her, and light and shadow melded and flickered beneath the thin veil of her eyelids.
Brennan gasped, eyes flying open in surprise as she felt the coldness on her breast.
“Cold, isn’t it?” Booth asked, eyes twinkling.
She looked down at where the ice cream melted on her skin, separating into thin ribbons that threatened to slide down her body and onto the bed. Just as she contemplated smacking Booth in the shoulder, he dipped his head and rubbed his lightly stubbled cheek against her before slowly licking the sticky mess from her skin. This time when she gasped, it was for an entirely different reason altogether.
Before she could regain her equilibrium, Booth scooped out more ice cream and dribbled it directly over her nipple. It hardened immediately under his watchful gaze. Though the cold shocked her and called forth goosebumps all over her flesh, the intensity of the sensation made her sex throb. Trembling, Brennan clutched at Booth, digging her blunt nails into his back.
Booth cupped her breast, his hand blissfully warm, and blew one long, torturous breath against her nipple.
“Bastard,” she said on a gasp.
“Watch your mouth, Bones.” He laughed and bent to drag the very tip of his tongue over her nipple, smearing the ice cream. “Yum,” he said, locking eyes with her, a teasing lilt in his voice.
She arched her back in frustration, thrusting her breasts toward him in a silent plea. When he responded by sucking her nipple into his warm mouth, she cried out, fingers tunneling through his hair. Fire followed ice, and her body burned. One hand slid to her hip and then the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, where Booth drew aimless, wandering patterns that made her toss her head and shift restlessly under his sure touch.
Moving away slightly, he rolled her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it stood taut and puckered. Then he reached for the carton again, and she stiffened in anticipation of the cold. Though she was prepared for it, she still shook when he turned the spoon and let the ice cream drip onto her. He turned away from her for a second, giving her his back as he placed the carton and the spoon on his nightstand. When he turned back, all traces of laughter were wiped clean from his face.
He laved her nipple again and again, dutifully sucking every last drop of the chilly ice cream from her. She couldn’t fault him for his absolute dedication to the task. With each firm swipe of his tongue, her body quivered, a current of pure sensation traveling from her breast to her core. Her thighs pressed together in an involuntary effort to ease the steady ache that now resided there, until she finally grew impatient and reached for Booth’s hand and guided it down between her legs.
“Hm,” he said, stroking a finger through her wetness and watching her face so intently that she flushed, the heat washing over her face. She didn’t doubt that he saw it. “What have we here?”
With rapt attention, she watched as he lifted his finger and sucked it into his mouth. The small gesture reminded her of the previous night, when he’d pleased her using his mouth and tongue and agile fingers. Unable to hold it in any longer, her lips parted on a moan.
To her ears it seemed loud, the sound cutting through the air in the quiet of Booth’s bedroom. But she felt no embarrassment. No shame. For though it was too soon for him to be physically aroused again, she had no doubt that he was still with her. His eyes gleamed in the lamplight, dark and hungry, and the way the lines and angles of his face suddenly looked familiar and yet not, made her breath come fast and her heart thunder in her chest.
He crawled down on the bed and eased her legs apart. One of her hands lay curled against her abdomen. Looking up at her, Booth gathered that hand in his own and gently pulled it down and kissed her fingers. Releasing her, he glided his thumbs over the inside of her thighs. The motion both soothed and aroused her. “You’re so beautiful. I always thought so.” He smiled. “Even when you looked down your nose at me with that snooty I-know-everything-and-you’re-just-a-piec
“What?” she said, protesting and trying to hide the pleasure that bloomed in her at hearing he thought she was beautiful. “I was never condescending. I always conducted myself with…” The words died in her throat as Booth drew his finger over her, circling and circling until she tilted her hips, helpless. Carefully, he brushed his thumb over her clitoris, rubbing in a back and forth motion that made her sink her teeth into her bottom lip.
“You were saying?” he asked, his voice warm with laughter.
She raised her head and peered down at him. “I… I don’t remember,” she said, hearing the quaver in her voice and not caring. Her head flopped back down on the pillow, and Booth chuckled. It occurred to her then that this would do nothing to temper his arrogance. Still, it was simply too difficult to care when each confident stroke made her feel like she was dissolving, melting like Booth’s ice cream.
“It’s ok,” he said. “Close your eyes. Let me take care of you.”
Brennan left herself at Booth’s mercy, shutting her eyes and rocking her hips against his hand as the pressure continued to build. Obeying the dictates of her body, she touched her nipple, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, mimicking the motion Booth had used. She heard him make a sound of approval – something low and deep in the back of his throat. It skittered over her, a pleasure in its own right.
She felt the loss of his touch in every part of her as she opened her eyes to watch him move back up on the bed and lie on her right side. He didn’t make her suffer for long, however. Without a word from her, he wrapped his left arm around her shoulders. Then he brushed a kiss over her temple, and his right hand slipped back where she wanted it most.
The rhythm he set was slow and easy, but she wanted more. “Please,” she said, panting as she thrust upward.
“Whatever you want, Bones,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.
Her eyes squeezed shut as the heat continued to climb over her, the tension stringing her muscles tight as a bow. She could feel herself rushing toward the edge; it was right there. So close…
Reaching down blindly, Brennan grabbed Booth’s hand and pushed it lower. “Inside,” she said, her breath a harsh rasp, and released him.
He seemed to understand her, as he slid his finger into her. The slow in and out drew a moan from her, and she stroked herself more quickly, increasing the pace. Several heartbeats later Booth’s arm tightened around her. “Let go,” he said, his voice urging her higher. “Let go,” he repeated, and she did, Booth anchoring her as she threw back her head and let the tide wash her away.
When Brennan returned to herself, she opened her eyes to find Booth watching her, his mouth unsmiling. Silently, he skimmed his hand over her hair, smoothing it back from her face so gently that she sighed. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, then leaned down to clasp her damp cheek.
Brennan wanted to say something, but even as her pulse and respiration slowed, words proved elusive. At a loss, she merely looked back at him, letting her gaze trace his familiar face. When he pressed his mouth to hers, she slid her fingers into the softness of his hair and let him stroke his tongue along her bottom lip.
He pulled away first, taking her hand and holding it over his heart. “Do you feel up to a shower? We should wash that sticky ice cream off you.”
She felt strangely reluctant to move. “In five minutes,” Brennan replied, blinking back at him and absorbing the feel of his heartbeat under her palm.
“Five minutes,” Booth agreed, and then lowered his head to ghost a kiss over her shoulder.
Author’s Note: Hate it? Like it? Feedback is treasured.