A note from the author: I've never really put my work on before, so hopefully this looks okay...
Doctor Temperance Brennan was never a woman to deny factual evidence. That was simply the demeanor of her esteemed occupation. No statement was to be made without backing, tangible evidence of said claim, an unspoken rule for examination on the Platform. She even made it a point to admonish such "misconduct" and reprimand to absolve. Resorting to intuition and gut feeling in a high-maintenance case sent her stomach into turmoil, the mere thought of it made her uneasy. Analysis was one of the many things she did best; as the Jeffersonian's head forensic anthropologist, she strove to accomplish nothing less than perfection. That was simply... Brennan.
However, Angela was far too complex, yet too simple a character to psychoanalyze. She was a fiery, strong-willed, free spirit; too spontaneous to be contained for something so scrutinizing. It was one of the many things Dr. Brennan loved about her. But like Angela, these feelings were so utterly contradictory. Her unpredictability sometimes led to carelessness, especially under circumstances involving alcohol; and her feisty nature often frustrated and confused Brennan, but she loved Angela all the same. She couldn't quite picture her life without her.
Brennan was washing dishes after breakfast when the call came in. Body found. Olympia Park. Pathologist and Anthropologist needed. Booth, of course, came along to collect preliminary information, oversee the procedure, and make sure Bones was safe, despite her protests that she was more than capable of keeping herself safe. She would interject every so often to inform him that he was treating her like a child.
The smell of decomposition hit them like a freight train as they exited the SUV. Booth recoiled sharply as the foul scent of rotting flesh flooded the wooded expanse,
"Gah... Jeez!" Booth exclaimed, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief,
"What happened here?" He asked as they approached Cam who was kneeling beside the body.
"I'm thinking body dump..." She surmised with a slight curl of her upper lip as she prodded through the chunks of flesh.
"Blowfly larvae indicate the victim's been out here for at least four days..." Hodgins chimed as he held up a writhing maggot, lowering it into a glass dish to examine later at the lab.
"Great. Four days. You got age, race and gender, Bones?" Booth scribbled down the information that had been collected so far, and turned to Dr. Brennan who pulled on a pair of thick, rubber examination gloves and began to sift through the amassment of muscle, tissue and organs.
"Shallow sciatic notch indicates female, oblong orbital sockets and palette indicate Caucasian, the degree of closure on the cranial suture places age in the late 30's." Brennan replied angling her head to better view the body. Booth nodded and began to walk back to the car.
"Ugh... God, I think I might have to pass on our lunch date today, Bren..." Angela whimpered feebly, as she lowered her camera.
Brennan looked away from her work to acknowledge Angela, who was looking down at the camera screen. Angela's dark amber irises were focused elsewhere as she hastily redid her ponytail. Her gaze flickered up to meet Brennan's and time seemed to slow. Within her troubled gaze, Brennan could see clearly: disgust-likely pertaining to the case, Angela was rather squeamish-, some hesitance, and a very vague underlying hint of lustful yearning. All chatter around the crime scene seemed to fade to a dull murmur until Angela's cheeks flushed bright pink and she tore her gaze from Brennan's to sort through the collection of pictures from today. Brennan looked back down at the corpse in front of her and was overcome with a peculiar sensation that lit fires in her stomach and made her heart flutter.
A glint that was tucked between the victim's sternum and partially buried in beneath the lung finally caught her attention and tore her from her reverie.
"What's this?" Cam inquired as Brennan withdrew a shimmering rope of exquisite stones.
"Motive for murder?" Hodgins supposed, offering her an evidence bag.
"I dunno. If it were motive, it probably wouldn't be with the body." Cam interjected. Brennan was silent.
"Right, let's get this back to the lab..." Booth announced, drawing everyone away from the site while Hodgins and Cam wrapped up the body.
Angela wasn't having the easiest morning. Nearly late for work, she had forgotten to dry her hair and brush her teeth. All because of that stupid erotic dream she had been having for nearly a week now. Her and Brennan. Last night's indulgence was rather enjoyable...
A slender lingering finger traced the curvature of Angela's bust, waist, and hips, trailing towards her navel, stopping at the barrier of her lace underwear. Brennan's tongue met the skin of Angela's neck, her teeth taking across her collarbone, leaving raw, red lacerations in their wake. Angela gasped and laced her fingers into Brennan's tousled auburn curls.
"Bren..." She panted, oxygen slowly becoming an unattainable commodity.
Brennan's lips trailed over the the scratch marks soothing them with feather-light kisses, Angela instinctively arched her body toward Brennan allowing her hand to unclasp the offending piece of fabric. With her chest exposed, Angela reached to cover herself, but Brennan quickly snatched her wrist and pinned it against the bed. The anthropologist's vixen-like body hovered over Angela's own, allowing the artist to finally lay a hand on Brennan's creamy, porcelain skin. Brennan adjusted her position so that she was now straddling Angela, pinning her body to the bed with her hips.
Brennan's palm caressed Angela's bare chest, as she lowered her lips to her partner's jawline. Angela writhed feebly at the contact, her fingers which rested on Brennan's waist tensed sharply, trailing down her obliques.
"Shit..." Brennan murmured, shuddering as Angela's nails traced her sides and she kissed down Angela's neck to her perked breasts. Brennan's lithe lips formed a devious smirk that sent a ripple of arousal down Angela's spine. Brennan's lips closed over her exposed breast, her tongue flicking across the rosy colored bud, eliciting a soft moan from the young artist. Brennan's other hand cupped Angela's breast, rolling her nipple between her thumb and index finger.
"God. Sweetie..." Angela moaned, her free hand finding its way back into Brennan's hair. A dulcet chuckle resounded in Brennan's chest as she continued. Ardency began to take root in each house within her that harbored her most secretive carnal desires. Brennan's hand finally released Angela's wrist and wandered toward her navel, she adjusted her body so that she was nestled between Angela's legs, a single delicate fingertip drawing slow circles atop the lace of Angela's underwear.
"Dammit, Bren... Please..." Angela hissed through her teeth, but Brennan had other intentions, deciding she would make Angela wait.
Through the fine gossamer of her underwear, Angela could feel every stroke of Brennan's talented fingers as they traced fine patterns across her throbbing clit. Every so often, Brennan's fingers would wander beneath the fabric and draw circles in her soaking layers, only to pull away and continue the ministrations on her clit.
"Fuck... Brennan!" Angela pleaded, her teeth sinking into the anthropologist's exposed shoulder. Brennan moaned softly, slowly slipping down to Angela's stomach, her teeth closing over the lacy adornments as she looped her fingers through Angela's underwear and pulled them down her legs at an agonizing pace.
Brennan had stopped to admire the artist, sprawled on her back before her. Her throbbing clit aching for immediate attention, her pearled nipples and perky breasts that rose and fell with each heavy, labored breath.
"Brennan... Oh god, BRENNAN." Angela whimpered, throwing her head back against the pillows, her hair splaying out beneath her.
Brennan had decided that she'd had her fun teasing the poor girl beneath her and brought her fingers up to Angela's soaking heat. The artists hips arched impatiently toward Brennan who finally gave into temptation, sliding two fingers into Angela who let out a gentle sigh. Angela's inner muscles clenched around the foreign protrusion, but oh, it felt marvelous. Angela's hips rolled forward to match Brennan's pace as her fingers slipped in and out of her.
Angela was already so close to climaxing but they had only just started, and Brennan had incredible stamina and an insatiable hunger to satisfy when it came to sex.
Brennan's mouth closed over Angela's breast, leaving a fiery trail of purple marks on her skin leading up to her neck.
"Say my name, Angela." Brennan purred, licking the shell of her ear. "I want to hear you scream my name when I make you come." She hissed, capturing Angela's lustful gaze with one of her own. Cerulean hues, gilded cobalt with lust espied Angela's. The artist's amber-tinged irises had darkened to a sultry onyx that gazed back to her through half lidded eyes, and thickly woven lashes.
Angela could feel herself balanced precariously on the edge of ecstasy. Brennan had her so whipped, she could barely think. Angela's lip quivered as she choked out a throaty moan.
"B-Brennan... Sweetie..." Angela moaned.
Brennan curled her fingers, her index finger brushing up against the sensitive little bundle of nerves deep inside her. Angela's body trembled with pleasure, she was close to a climax, Brennan could see it.
"Say. My. Name." Brennan demanded, punctuating each word with a nip at Angela's collar, her thumb working tight circles over Angela's throbbing clit. She could feel her inner muscles begin to tense around Brennan's fingers.
"Let go for me, baby." Brennan whispered.
"Oh god, Temperance..." Angela panted, as Brennan's mouth found the spot behind her ear, the spot Brennan knew drove Angela crazy,
"Mmm... Oh god, right there...! Yes..! YES! TEMPERANCE!" Angela came with a gasp, muttering profanities tied with Brennan's name as she rode out her orgasm, legs trembling, chest heaving. Brennan lowered her lips delicately to Angela's neck and whispered against her caramel skin.
"Mm. Good girl, Ange..." Brennan panted with a sensual grin, drawing slow, broad circles around Angela's clit. "Good girl."
When she could finally breathe again, Angela held her partner, burying her face in Brennan's silky, russet curls.
Their passionate embrace was abruptly truncated by the harsh blare of Angela's alarm. Angela thrust her hand in front of her eyes to alleviate them from the glare of the morning sun. She propped herself up on her elbow to turn and lie back against her pillow but recoiled in disgust to find her comforter was soaked with moisture. She sat up and tossed the duvet cover off of her body, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood to turn off her alarm. That was when she noticed the wetness that pooled between her legs, at the apex of her thighs, and the heat that plagued her sweating body.
Angela's heart skipped a beat in her chest. The thought of Brennan's body dominating hers, pleasuring her and pushing her to orgasm sent another wave of arousal down her spine to her already dripping core. Angela bit down on her lip, her mind cultivating a surprisingly raunchy, yet not unwarranted, image of Brennan... She debated finishing the job that her dream had started, but ultimately decided she didn't have the time to get herself off. Nor did she have the time to recall the details of this past nights dream, despite her immense desire to. Angela shook her head to rid herself of the daunting thought. She was going through a celibacy phase dammit, and no amount of erotic fantasy could shake her into relinquishing herself. Not to anyone.
Angela quickly pulled on a robe and crossed her bedroom into her bathroom. So caught up in the fervidity of her dream, Angela allowed her ardent mind to wander as she was in her shower. As hot water poured over her, she could only imagine her body forced against the cool ceramic tiles as Brennan worked her from behind. Or the other way around.
She dared to push her limits...
...Brennan in a short, tight pencil skirt bent over her desk, her underwear cast unceremoniously across a table somewhere in her office, looking back at Angela with pleading eyes...
...Brennan wearing lacy lingerie and stockings, tapping the end of a leather riding crop in the palm of her hand, her sultry gaze expectant and hungry...
...Brennan's hand colliding sharply with her student's rear, as Angela was admonished an appropriate punishment for being late to her teacher's seminar...
...Brennan slowly undoing the buttons on her blouse, casting the garment aside as she approached Angela who was sitting in her office chair before straddling her waist, her hips rolling greedily against Angela's own...
...Brennan in a short, buttoned coat, approaching her in her office, closing the door and locking it before moving to shut the blinds. Slowly untying the belt and unclasping the buttons, letting it drop to the floor to reveal her naked body, in all its ethereal wonder...
...Brennan...
Angela had to stop herself from going too far, she shut off the water and snatched a towel from the towel rack. Glancing at the clock drew only two words from her lips, the connotation sour and alight with agitation:
"God dammit..." She muttered, fluffing her hair with her towel to try and rid it of excess moisture. Grabbing the nearest garment of clothing she could find, which so happened to be a dress, she pulled it over her damp body and slipped on a pair of heels, hurrying out of her apartment.
Angela did her best to apply her makeup in the car as she sat in 8 o'clock traffic, cursing her brain mentally as it blatantly refused to stop it's reeling from the events it had fabricated last night. In fact, the restriction and reprimanding only seemed to encourage the process of these images.
The call came in as she was walking up the steps to the Jeffersonian. Needed photographer for eventual facial reconstruction. Angela let out a morose grumble and tilted her head back in exasperation. As if she didn't have enough on her mind already...
Approaching the scene, Angela looped the strap of her camera around her neck, pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves, for safety measures... Like she'd ever touch a corpse with this much flesh on it. She gagged at the sight and grimaced for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, wishing that she hadn't just laid eyes on it.
Yep. That would most definitely take her mind off Brennan for a while.
She began her operations on the head working down the body, taking other pictures of evidence at her own convenience. It wasn't until she mentioned their lunch date, did she recall her libidinous fantasy. Brennan looked up from the body to acknowledge her best friend's statement and though she couldn't directly meet Brennan's concerned gaze, Angela could feel herself getting warm.
I mean... she was in coveralls, of course...!
Obviously she'd be hot, right...?
...right?
She quickly averted her eyes as far away from Brennan as possible, without turning, and pulled her hair back, reshaping her ponytail, hoping some cool air would help relieve her discomfort. Brennan's gaze didn't falter, and impulsively, Angela met her eyes. All she could see in those lurid, vibrant blue irises was tied to the phrase, "I bet you'd look so hot grasping the sheets on my bed."
Angela blushed, and she could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks and she quickly tore her gaze away from Brennan's.
The car ride back to the lab was torturous, her mind fading in and out of its reverie as Cam rattled on about potential weapons that might fit the profile. Interesting enough, the face appeared to have been smashed in with a cylindrical tube, possibly a pipe or a baseball bat. Angela frowned, the Squintern who had the daunting task of skull reconstruction would be kept busy for a while. Her lustful mind, on the other hand could only picture Brennan snapping on a pair of gloves, articulating and assessing the curvature of Angela's spine and hips. Brennan bending her over the illuminated table in the Bone Room, caressing Angela's bare ass, giving it a light smack. Brennan's hand snaking down between her thighs, agonizingly peeling off the latex gloves. Two fingers tracing the heat of her soaked core, and a sultry purr remarking her desires to fuck her senseless.
Angela entered her office, her workbag slung over her shoulder, her head swimming with frustration at her lack of control. She dropped her belongings into her desk chair and draped her coat across the backrest. She probably just needed a snack. Unscrewing the lid on her secret jar of peanut butter, she crossed the room in search of a plastic spoon.
"You're at work now, Sweetie. You can't just compose all of these indecent thoughts." Angela muttered to herself as she scooped out a generous spoonful of peanut butter. "You're just hungry..." She continued, sucking thoughtfully on the spoon. Angela's mind was suddenly swathed by thoughts of the anthropologist bent over the metal examination table on the Platform, Angela kneeling behind her. Her tongue making broad sweeps across Brennan's dripping layers, flicking over her clit...
Angela nearly choked on her mouthful of peanut butter. She pulled the spoon from her mouth, coughed, and swallowed hard.
"...Hungry and wayyy horny." She mused finally, running her tongue across the roof of her mouth.
"To whom would you be referring?" a gentle alto voice behind her inquired. Angela tensed and whirled on her heel,
"B-Brennan!" She stuttered, her hands flattening against her thighs in shock. "I-I didn't say anything!" She quickly countered, sounding less confident than she hoped. Brennan's eyes flicked from right to left in confusion.
"No? I heard you referring to someone as hungry and horny?" Brennan paused, her eyes alternating their focus between the table, and the spoon in Angela's hand and then back to Angela. "Based on the open jar of peanut butter on the table, my conjecture is that you consider yourself as the former. And judging by your flushed skin, dilated pupils, and adamant denying of my inquisition, I can safely conclude the entirety of your statement was addressed to yourself." Brennan assessed without missing a beat, gesturing to Angela's flushed face and chest which now darkened in color.
Angela was cornered now, but luckily, Brennan had no clue about the source for Angela's arousal.
"...Yeah, you'd be right." Angela confessed, letting her shoulders slump.
"Of course I am." Brennan remarked casually with a shrug. She always was. "Why is this such an issue? We have a case that needs your immediate attention." Brennan tilted her head to the side, a visual key that she was concerned.
Angela shook her head and smiled reassuringly, "It's not an issue. I'm going through a celibacy phase..."
Brennan thought on this for a moment,
"Celibacy, or not, it's not healthy to put aside our undeniable carnal desires to engage in intercourse. Science dictates that it is one of the most primal urges of humankind, along with war, and the accumulation of wealth. Would you like me to help you..."
"NO!" Angela yelped quickly, before realizing she had just cut Brennan off.
Brennan gave her another brief look of confusion and continued,
"...find someone to alleviate you of your distress?" She finished.
Angela pursed her lips, her hands balled around the hem of her skirt before she tensed her hands against her thighs once more.
"No, that's okay, Sweetie. I'm pretty dedicated, I can't lose focus. Thanks, though." Angela replied softly.
Brennan nodded understandably,
"Well, if there's ever a way I can help... Please tell me." That was all that left her lips and she turned abruptly and left the way she came.
"Mm, there are a lot of ways you could help me right now, Sweetie..." Angela muttered under her breath as she watched Brennan walk away.
Angela did her best to map the events and information that would lead them to their perpetrator with the minimal information the Jeffersonian had obtained so far. Constructing algorithms, applying the variables, mapping a visual of the crime scene, even searching for the necklace found with the body; anything that would take her mind off of Brennan. Finally, Angela was called up to the Platform. With reluctance, she sighed heavily and pulled on her blue lab coat, snatching her lanyard from her bag, and clipping it onto one of the lapels.
Stepping onto the Platform, she was greeted with Cam's inquiry of something Wendall had said as she sifted through the pile of the putrified flesh as she carefully separated it from the bones and placed them in metal bowls for a toxicology screen. The particulates found on the victims shoes would go to Hodgins for identification and further analysis. Wendall was instructed to also take the remains and bring them to Hodgins for cleaning once he was done logging the injuries sustained pre and post-mortem. Angela was required to do absolutely nothing other than take pictures of the only factor that could possibly lead to an ID at the present moment. Facial reconstruction. Many of the teeth had been removed, so dental history would be unethical and a waste of time. Cam had also probably figured what with Hodgins cleaning the bones and ID-ing particulates he'd have enough on his plate.
Angela gathered as much information from her photos as she could. It had taken all of her strength not to envision herself naked, pressed flat against this table. She crossed her legs hoping to sate her arousal somewhat, but to no avail. Warmth began to pool in the pits of her stomach and she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as Cam passed her with the remains. Wendell exited the platform with a tray of Petri dishes filled with particulates and granules from the victim's body, and suddenly, Angela was left alone on the Platform with Brennan.
Brennan looked away from the remains to catalogue a new discovery when she looked up to see Angela in her state of mild disorientation, her face flushed and blotchy, and her breathing erratic and growing labored.
"Ange." Brennan asked softly, pulling off her gloves and discarding them in a nearby waste bin. "Are you alright? You look rather distracted."
Angela snapped back to attention and nodded firmly.
"Y-yeah... Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind." She blurted quickly.
"Would you like to talk about it? I have a few minutes to spare before Wendall gets back." Brennan suggested, gesticulating to the direction in which her intern had left. At her suggestion, Angela blanched and quickly responded,
"I'm okay. Really. I..." Angela paused, looking back at her office, hoping she'd find an excuse, "I gotta develop these." She held up the camera containing the photos from the crime scene, and scurried off the Platform and back into her office, leaving Brennan to wonder what Angela didn't want to discuss.
Brennan watched Angela leave and returned to her work, cataloging visible injuries sustained to the body. She was not a woman to discard fact, that was simply who she was, and the fact was, that there was something bothering Angie that was too personal to talk about. Brennan's brow furrowed as she examined the clavicle, concluding that there was a nick on the bone not yet marked by hemorrhagic staining. Indicating that the victim had been stabbed and the subclavian artery severed after the victim died. That, and something was very wrong between her and Angela. She internalized the moment Angela's eyes met hers at the crime scene. The artist's resilient auburn irises gilded with an underlying hint of lustful onyx had permeated the atmosphere between them establishing tension so thick, the air felt tangible. Brennan felt herself growing warm, her skin tingling as she recalled the bubbling sensation in her stomach, rippling down her spine. Brennan shuddered involuntarily and tried to focus on the subject at hand, but couldn't stop herself from picturing Angela gazing back at her, her glossed lips pulled back into a welcoming grin. Brennan eventually was subdued, keeping this image in the back of her mind as she worked, Angela's charming smile etching a small grin onto her own lips. Of course, as social cues weren't her forte, so too was identifying her own emotions as a result of others and her subconscious desires... She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and continued her analysis.
Wendall returned to the Platform with new information. He and Hodgins had found several kinds of pollen particulates not native to the area in which the body was found. Implying that the victim was killed elsewhere and brought to the site. Brennan nodded without saying a word and pulled out her phone to tell Booth. Wendall watched as Brennan pulled out her phone to call Agent Booth, as she gazed off towards Angela's office, looking somewhat dazed, definitely not a characteristic the doctor exhibited. He disregarded it as none of his business, and perhaps nothing more than a derivative of fatigue and he turned back to the remains.
Booth had made arrangements to meet Sweets at the Royal Diner for lunch and had invited Brennan to tag along, but she politely declined to finish working. Booth left the Jeffersonian muttering something about how Bones was all work and no play, and therefore, was no fun. Angela had overheard Booth grumbling to himself about Brennan as she was working.
So far, she had arranged a map of all the trees in the area that had matched the pollens from the particulates and had cross-referenced her findings with the weather patterns of the past four to five days. She stood in front of the projector screen, chewing on the inside of her cheek as her thumbs worked quickly over the liquid crystal surface of her tablet.
She knew she'd probably have to tell Brennan sooner or later, but personally, Angela was more a fan of waiting for an opportune time to reveal secrets. She wasn't even sure if Brennan really needed to know about her involvement in her recent dreams. So she shrugged off the thought and transferred her results to her tablet so she could apply her findings.
Angela strode quickly across the lab floor, internally hoping she wouldn't encounter Brennan, for fear of having to talk about Angela's 'forbearance of confrontation' as Brennan would put it. She rapped her knuckles on Cam's door, but there was no response. Angela slowly propped open the door with her ankle and let herself inside,
"Cam?" Angela asked, looking around the pathologists office to find that she was nowhere to be found. Angela hung her head in defeat.
"Brennan it is..." She muttered, opening Cam's door again.
She mentally steadied herself as she reached for the door to Brennan's office.
"Hey, Bren..." Angela began.
The anthropologist pivoted in her desk chair, toward her visitor, looking up from a book she was reading. Brennan was wearing a white button-down blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, and was wearing her auburn locks in a bun, held in place with a pencil. Angela gulped as Brennan pushed her reading glasses up the bridge of her nose, the ones Angela thought made her look like a professor, a hot one at that. Not that she'd ever tell Brennan...
"Have you found something?" Brennan inquired, pulling off her glasses.
"O-oh... Yeah." Angela stuttered, holding up the tablet in her hand. She turned and walked out of Brennan's office, the anthropologist following close behind. The click of Brennan's heels against the linoleum tiles sent chills down Angela's spine.
Angela loaded up the data on the Angelatron and described her findings,
"I cross referenced the specific pollen particulates Hodgins found on the victim's clothes and the weather patterns of the past five days, and I found that there are only three areas in the state where a combination of those pollens would occur at the time our victim was murdered." Angela drew her thumb around the three areas, indicating the potential sites with a yellow circle. She turned proudly to face Brennan who had been staring at her as she spoke. She seemed to be ruminating on this new information but Temperance Brennan's thoughts based on facial analysis was always indecipherable. Angela felt her face redden.
"You've done an exceptional job, Ange." Brennan finally remarked with a firm nod of her head, and Angela could only grin smugly in relief, of course she had.
"Thanks, Sweetie." She replied with a light laugh, she turned back to the Angelatron and began to alter some of the variables to further home a location. Angela's mind still spinning as it wove intricate fantasies of her and Brennan, and almost instantly Angela pressed her thighs together, hoping to quell her obvious desire.
"Would you mind telling me what's bothering you? It's not healthy to keep your emotions pent up." Brennan stated, crossing her arms. Angela tensed at Brennan's exasperated tone and slowly turned toward her, setting her tablet down on a nearby cabinet. She put on a convincing smile and looked up toward her friend.
"Really, Sweetie. It's fine!" Angela reassured.
"Well, you have been fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably all day," Brennan noted, as she watched Angela press her thighs together, "I merely gathered that this is still an effect of your arousal from this morning. Am I wrong?"
Angela's mouth was suddenly very dry.
"You'd be right, as usual..." Angela let her voice waver and fade, hating to admit that Brennan was right. "I'll get over them, though!" She quickly countered. Realizing that she had just let slip a crucial piece of information, her convincing smile shattered and Brennan furrowed her brow.
"Would that be the person for whom you are lusting?" Brennan asked, now anxious to hear all about this scandalous fiend who had been toying with her friend. Angela was internally smacking herself with a broom.
"Y-yeah, you could say that." She admitted, toying with her fingers.
Brennan's lithe lips curled into a small, but zealous grin.
"Would you care to tell me?" Brennan pushed. Angela was trapped now. If she refused, or lied and Brennan found out, it would draw a rift in between them, with Brennan assuming Angela's sex life was now too secretive to be her business anymore. And with her logic, no doubt Brennan would pull away. But if Angela admitted the truth, and Brennan didn't reciprocate, it would tear them both to pieces. Unlike Brennan, Angela took risks regardless of their odds to relinquish the emotions she felt, it was too irrational and complex to be explained; and that's how she preferred it.
Angela weighed her options carefully, stepping closer to the anthropologist who met her eyes with an expectant gaze, when finally epiphany struck her with the weight of a train. Angela laid a gentle hand on Brennan's cheek, gazing up at her friend with sorrowful eyes and swiftly closed the space between their bodies, capturing Brennan's lips with her own.
Brennan's body went rigid as Angela's lips gently caressed hers, and in that moment, Brennan discarded logical analysis and let herself succumb to the feeling of bliss that rode up her spine. Her lips unwillingly responded adequately, symmetrically complimenting Angela's own. Brennan had always viewed a kiss as an equation, in which both variables must give the same input to produce satisfactory results.
Angela drew back, and Brennan's eyes shot open and she recoiled sharply, taking a step backward. Angela mentally cursed herself for acting so irrationally and squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears threatening to spill over.
She felt the shame bubble in the pits of her stomach, and as her heart beat steadied itself, she realized she couldn't bear to meet Brennan's eyes.
"I... I'm sorry." She whispered,
And with tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, Angela Montenegro did the only logical thing she could.
She ran.
Whoop there it is... I'll probably make a few changes to these chapters, but leave me a review. I'd appreciate it!