A/N: What should have happened way back in Season Two. My personal take on it – because you can all see it happening somewhat like this, can't you?
Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. If I did, my mind would have exploded from all the wonderfulness of owning one of the best TV shows, in my opinion. But I'm still here, with a mostly intact mind – though I blame general insanity for that.
She takes a small breath inwards, as if trying to cause as little disturbance as possible in the moment. The air is electric as she hesitantly lifts her arms up and wraps them around his shoulders - she's tall enough to do so, but she's pressed up against him at the same time for height, and ability to retain the motion.
He welcomes the embrace, he can feel her heartbeat and the gentle curves of her skeletal structure against his - it turns him on more than it should, he should feel like he's sinning, but he doesn't - it feels natural, like it was meant to be.
And they don't say a word, because they both know that it's wrong, but his arms are slowly twisting around her perfectly formed hips, and she flashes him a nervous smile, flincking at the touch. She gives in, though and rests her head on his chest. He's suprised by the sudden jump towards intimacy, but he grabs the opportunity with two hands, most literally.
He yanks her hips towards him, not with much force, but just enough so that their bodies are as close as they can be - the slight sliver of light that was visible between the two of them before, courtesy of the cheap hotel neon sign that flashes from the outside window. He spins her around in his grip, so that he's facing the hotel bed and he leans over it, ready to drop her, pinning her to it, so he can rip off her clothes and. Let's leave it at that - it's obvious what he wants.
He's breathing heavily, and she's frigtened by it, she doesn't know how it got this far so quickly. She presses a thin hand to his chest, it gives her the desire effect - he pauses in his motion and she's left dangling just above the bed, supported by his warm, comforting arms, and she likes the closeness - and that fact scares her. She doesn't know why she feels that way. But she won't say it, oh no.
"Booth... we can't." Her voice is quiet, almost pleading as she applies some pressure to the tips of her fingers - next to his chest, and he relinquishes his grip like he's been stung - his face is twisted with rejection as she falls onto the bed, she feels almost as 'rejected' as him.
He nods, mumbling useless words that don't make sense as he goes to the wardrobe, ruffling through his temporary sock drawer - why he had to bring so many pairs of socks, she couldn't grasp. She knows that she's hurt him though, and she seems to think that maybe it won't hurt, or it'll hurt less than it does now - she's shaking slightly.
She remembers a phrase Angela used to use, and it all clicks into place - she wants him. She wants him bad.
"Booth?" She asks softly, her fingers rubbing against the harsh bedding material supplied by the hotel. "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Right?" She smiles, letting out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.
"Of course." He grins, some of his composure coming back, as he pins her down to the bedspread, just the way he'd always dreamed of, and she'd always wanted.
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