A/N: Okay, guys, so this really isn't the fluff I promissed, but I'm suffering from domestic boredom and this is what came to my head. Hope you guys enjoy it! This is my first try at something M rated like this, so please let me know what you think! This fic takes place about a month after the season finale.
Thanks to goldpiece for being such an angel and helping me to write this! You're really amazing! Thanks for all the encouraging and the beta work! Couldn't have done it without you!
Disclaimer: Don't own Bones.
Two weeks had gone by since everything turned upside down at the Jeffersonian and now, Brennan wouldn't talk to him like she used to. Booth blamed it on his recent 'death' and in her recently broken trust in him. She was fine. He knew that from the many times she said it over and over again, but that wasn't the truth.
He had apologized countless times since his return, and she always affirmed that he was forgiven. But beneath the smile and the blue eyes she turned his way, he could always see something else. He could see another wall built and another fence built up between the two of them. They were getting reinforced with time.
He wondered if things would ever be okay again, if they could ever go back to the easy banter and the shared meals over case files that he treasured. She was always busy now, never taking his calls, never leaving with him for lunch or dinner. He missed her; that simple. He just wanted her back.
Worried sick about her, he drove to her apartment that night, intending on having a serious conversation with Brennan. She would have to deal with it all sooner or later, and he just had to be there if she broke. Getting to the front of her building, he was dumb-struck by what he found.
Brennan didn't looked very pained as she gripped the muscles of some guy's back, kissing him hard as he dug his nails on on her hips above the black dress she wore. Booth parked his car but didn't exit it, watching as his beloved partner was groped by some muscle bound moron.
Shit. God damn it all to hell. Booth watched as his partner, his Bones stood outside of her apartment building, lips very much attached to 'Mr. Olympia', a man with obviously more muscles than smarts. Not exactly her type, but she didn't seem to mind as he gripped her hips even more closely to his.
"Uh, inside," she moaned against his lips as he began to run his tongue over her exposed neck. She arched her back to him, head rolling back against the wall in a loud thud as he bucked his hips against hers. Could he get a clear shot from inside his car without hitting her, Booth pondered.
She pushed the muscle bound lover away, intending on getting her keys to let them inside, and worried about getting arrested for public indecency. Reaching inside her small purse, she turned her body towards the door as Mr. Olympia busied himself in sucking the exposed skin between her neck and shoulder.
Booth's hands gripped the wheel tightly as the other man trailed his hands down her hips, the hem of her dress riding higher up her thighs as he ground his hips against hers roughly while she unlocked the door. His lips found her right ear and he sucked on her earlobe, ripping a moan from her lips as she leaned her head on his shoulder.
Booth cracked the window open and leaned out slightly, trying to catch the man's whispered words. "I can't wait to feel your tight-" Booth's hands slipped over the horn, interrupting the guy. They broke apart at the sound and Booth ducked, swearing under his breath at his own stupidity.
Brennan tried to find the source of the noise but decided she didn't care as his lips found hers again, his hands gripping her hips tightly, causing a slight pain that mixed with the pleasure of his tongue. This felt so wrong, in so many ways, but at the same time, her body tingled. She bit back moaning a name, as her paramour's was not the one she almost said.
Reaching behind her body, she turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, pulling him with her inside as she slammed it shut behind them. Inside his car, Booth fought back a scream of rage. He settled for slamming his hand on the dashboard.
Damn it all to hell, there was a whiskey bottle with his name on it somewhere in DC tonight.
Her front door was barely open as Brennan's companion managed to rip the buttons of the front of her favorite dress. She moaned in the back of her throat, kicking the door closed behind her as his lips descended from her neck to suck one her nipples through the fabric of her bra, teeth closing around the tight nub. He bit down a little bit too hard, and she jumped a little. Careful there, she thought, tugging his lips back to her mouth as he pushed her against the door.
Rough fingertips slid under the hem of her dress, and as he finally managed to slip them into the front of her panties, she felt his touch nearing the warmth of her wet center as he once again descended lips to her breasts. Not gently, his fingers searched for her clit, but the apparent need for a map was driving her insane.
"Biff, slowly," she moaned as she tugged on his hair, trailing her other hand down until she reached the inside of her underwear. Placing her hand over his, she guided his movements over the throbbing bud as heat pooled in her belly, making her wetter. When he seemed to establish a rhythm in his movements, her hand abandoned his to work on his shirt, quickly managing to get all the buttons undone as she pushed the fabric down.
Pushing him off her body as he stumbled back, hand falling from her panties, Brennan roamed her eyes over his impressively well defined muscles. Reaching out, she touched his abdomen, a smirk of satisfaction over her lips as the muscles quivered under her fingers.
"Bedroom," she said, stepping beside him, but she wasn't ready for the hands that gripped her hips from behind, and she certainly didn't see it coming as he pushed her towards her kitchen table, bending her over it.
"No bed tonight, babe," he whispered against her neck, sucking on her earlobe. She leaned against the wood, her breasts pressed against the hard surface as she heard the sound of a zipper going down. Not much of a foreplay guy, was he?
His hands fumbled with his pants and boxers, shrugging them down his hips as he reached for her. Roughly, he flipped the skirt of her dress up around her waist and tugged her panties down her thighs, not bothering to remove them completely as his fingers dug into the sides of her hips, leaving pinkish crescent moon marks. "You're so hot, babe," he whispered.
Leaning over her body, he reached one hand to her breast, squeezing it to the point that she didn't know where the pain ended and the pleasure began. She felt the head of his penis close to her entrance, teasing her and that was enough for her to know his size wasn't congruent with the rest of his body. Probably the effect of steroids on his blood stream. She would warn him about that later.
He pushed himself inside her in one fast stroke, and she was disappointed to find she couldn't feel the delicious stretch of her inner walls accommodating his size that she always enjoyed. "Fuck, you're so tight, so wet," he hissed through gritted teeth as his moans filled the silence of the night.
As he being to pump in and out of her in fast strokes, she reached one hand down and rubbed her clit, concentrating on the building pleasure inside of her. Maybe now she could really forget. Maybe now she could erase the last month from her mind.
Bucking back against his hips, she gripped him tighter as she felt his thighs slamming against her own body, the edge of the table was sure to leave a mark on her legs. He gripped her hair, making her arch her back as he pumped faster and faster, a string of curses flying off his mouth as his body tensed behind her.
She felt herself closer and closer to the edge as he pushed her harder against the table. She rubbed her clit faster, welcoming the building tension inside her belly as she prepared for the climax. He swore behind her, slamming against her body with two quick strokes before he came inside her.
He leaned over her, body slick with sweat and spent as she cursed her own choice for companionship. Her insides were tight with the orgasm she never reached, and she felt more frustrated now then ever. Biff straightened his body up, giving her a slap on her backside as he pulled his pants up.
She reached for her own dress, pulling it down to cover her body as he worked on the buttons of his shirt, smirking as he watched her. "You're really good. So hot," he said, smirking. She didn't say it back. She wasn't one to lie to a man just to stroke his ego.
Turning her back to him, she adjusted her top over her chest and straightened the skirt, wanting a shower the minute he stepped out of her apartment, which should be soon. "I better go then," he said, and she nodded, turning to walk him to the doors. "I'll see you around?" he asked as he stepped out the threshold.
"Probably not," she said. He smirked again, and she slammed the door. Damn it all to hell as that was good for nothing more than to increase her frustration.
After a steaming shower to clean herself, Brennan crawled naked under her covers, the heat of the night enough to keep her body feverish. The tension continued, her center still throbbing, begging to be touched. She had never felt this way, so out of control.
One hand slid slowly down her belly, over her bellybutton and down to her sex. She touched herself delicately, closing her eyes as her mind conjured up images to stimulate her arousal further. She caressed her folds apart, teasing her hardened nub gently as a sigh escaped her lips.
But as hard as she tried, she couldn't concentrate. Her mind kept reeling, memories of gunshots and explosions breaking through her fantasy as she leaned her head back against the pillows. Tears gathered in her eyes as she wiped them hastily, disapproving her own moment of weakness.
Her own slender and delicate fingers weren't nearly enough to ease the ache that settled inside her. She was frustrated and tense, now more than ever, and her escape had proven to be useless against the overwhelming weight of all her unwanted emotions for someone she had lost for two weeks.
He had apologized, she knew this, more than once, more times than she could count, but there seemed to have been a disconnect between her mind and her heart. Logically, she could accept the fact that he did what he did to catch a bad man and that she was supposed to have known.
But as strange as it may seem, her heart just couldn't accept the fact that she had suffered again, so much, for nothing. It was even harder to accept that her partner, the one person she trusted the most in her life, was the one that turned the knife in her heart.
He tried to return things back to how they were, tried to fix everything, but she wasn't sure this was something that could be repaired. There was a hole in the Jeffersonian team now, a void he could never fill, something that could never be changed back, no matter how hard he tried.
Booth had called again today, she knew and heard all of his messages before leaving the Jeffersonian tonight to meet Biff for what she was beginning to label as the worst date ever. Booth was worried about her and made that perfectly clear, but there was nothing to worry about. She was fine. She was always fine. He should know that by now.
Brennan scorned herself for how foolishly she had handled her own life since Booth turned her little world upside down. It was so irrational, the way she had let him into every aspect of her life. She paid the price for her own foolishness now, for ever thinking that maybe she could have the perfect life everyone talked about.
She had lost him. For two weeks he was no longer someone she could turn to when needing a warm body to fall into. He had taken a bullet for her, sparing her of physical pain only to inflict an even worse kind when she heard from the doctor's lips that her partner was dead.
She could still feel the sting and burn on her knuckles when she had punched him at his own funeral. The surreal feeling of seeing him again, fighting just like she remembered him, was too much, too hard. She had mourned his death, and regretted every second she wasted keeping her distance.
Now, she had no illusions about them, about their partnership or her own feelings anymore. Brennan had boarded this train alone, had taken their friendship to the next level in her own heart, and it all came crashing down on her, just like it always did.
She let her guard down, but that wouldn't happen again. She was smarter than that. Brick walls had crumbled, but now they were up again, reinforced with steel, guarded at all times. She refused to be the scared little girl she felt like as she balled herself in her bed, gripping his favorite shirt as she cried for her lost something. It was so pathetic in her own mind now that even back then, she couldn't define what exactly they were. It all felt so blurry these days.
Turning to her side, she closed her eyes and willed sleep to come, to take her away from her reality, if only for a few hours. Damn it, she was determined to forget it all, to erase the last month, to pretend it never happened. And Brennan always got what she wanted, despite any recent evidence to the contrary.
"Don't you want to slow down a bit there, buddy?" asked the bartender as he stood before Booth behind the counter, whiskey bottle in his hand. He had lived long enough to know what the answer would be. No, he would stop when it was enough. The response he got was a finger poking the counter, signaling for more. He just filled the glass and turned his back.
Booth downed what seemed to him like the twentieth dose of the hard liquor, but was in reality his fifth glass. The world was already spinning around as his muscles relaxed, a buzz in his head leaving him light and just a little bit tipsy.
He still couldn't believe what he had seen, his partner, his beloved partner, lost in the arms of a jerk who would never comprehend half of what she said. He knew she was mad, furious maybe, but being her stubborn self, she refused to talk to him. Fine was the word of choice these days.
So instead of talking to him, of opening up to him, Brennan had chosen to drown her problems in muscles and sex. How a woman so smart could be so dense he wasn't sure. But it pained him to see someone so utterly special, so unique, settling for someone so beneath her. She deserved more, despite what she believed.
He knew he was to blame for so much of what was happening, but still, he couldn't take the fault on his shoulders. To say he had kept up with his charade, not bothering to make sure she knew he was alive would be like admitting what he had known for too long now: he could never be good enough for her.
He knew she had seen death and suffering in her life more than he liked, but she still managed to keep a small flame of hope inside herself, knowing that every body she identified was one less person lost in the world. It was one less family falling apart, and he loved her for that. But he… he was tainted.
Now he was paying the price for being so confident of the fact that she would be okay. He had taught her to feel, to open herself up to people that truly loved her, but he had never shown her how to do it without him around. He had abandoned and betrayed her, truly unintentionally, but that was worse than the metal that burned through his flesh.
But now, one month after the day he felt the weight of her pain, or rather, the weight of her hand against his jaw, he was getting frustrated. She was turning back into her shell, building new protections around her heart to keep everyone out.
He couldn't imagine that would be too hard. She had yet to shed one single tear over his 'death'. With that thought, he downed another glass of whiskey. Maybe he wasn't reading her as well as he used to. She just didn't feel the same.
Before he could dwell further into his own misery, he felt rather than saw someone sliding into the seat next to him. Heavy eyes followed one slim leg as the woman crossed her legs in front of her, the bubblegum-pink tight dress riding up her thighs impossibly higher.
"Hi there, stranger," she said cheerfully, tucking a strand of bleached blonde hair behind her ear as she stretched a hand to greet him. "I'm Candi, with an 'I'." A smirk spread over her lips as she looked over the agent. She had easy written all over her skinny body.
"I'm Eugene, but you can call me Gene," Booth said. He wasn't lying anyway, just omitting the fact that it was his middle name. His mother was seriously under the influence of the epidural when she named him that Monday morning.
"What a name," she exclaimed, turning her body towards him as she made an offering of her large silicone breasts. The whiskey was buzzing in his veins, making him slightly disoriented, and just a little out of control. What was so great about control anyway?
Small talk ensued between them as she continued to shamelessly flirt, and the alcohol consumption continued without a break. She was rolling her head back in laughter, throwing her hair to the sides as she touched his arm. With careful steps, Candi with an 'I' jumped off of her barstool and walked up to him.
Leaning against his ear, she whispered a husky 'let's fuck' before turning her body towards the back of the bar where the back alley exit was. Swallowing hard, Booth downed another shot of whiskey. Let's fuck, she'd said, and wasn't he fucked enough already? What harm could a mindless fuck have anyway?
There was a gap in his memory between the time she leaned to whisper in his ear and the moment he was currently experiencing. She pushed his body against the brick wall and the smell of garbage of the back alley filled his nostrils, making him sick.
Candy kneeled before him, hands fumbling with his cocky belt buckle as she smiled naughtily up at him. Nice girl, Booth thought. She doesn't waist any time. Pushing his boxers down, she was more than eager to release his cock from his clothes as she cupped him gently.
"Looks like you weren't lying about that buckle," she said, looking up at him as his head rolled back. This was wrong on so many levels. He already felt dirty.
As Candi traced the tip of him with her tongue, Booth tangled his fingers through her hair, his hips bucking forward as she took his length inside her mouth. He gripped the roots tightly, holding her head in place as she sucked on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she moaned loudly. She was down right vulgar, and she knew it.
But the feel of her mouth wrapped around him wasn't enough to make him forget. It wasn't enough to erase the look of hurt that played over his partner's eyes as she stared at him. Anger pumped through his veins as he felt his inability to fix what he broke, and he gripped Candi's head tighter.
There was no place for gentle tonight, no room for romance. There was only space for primal needs being fulfilled and broken hearts trying to mend.
Okay guys, so before I ask you to let me know what you think, I feel the need to point out that I'm being safely guarded by goldpiece and bella-mi-amore, so you have to get through them first! So be careful with flames! Let me know what you think! This will change quickly in the next chapter, so I hope you can keep up! Big kisses!