Written for the Sekrit Cabal Porn Battle over on LJ (go to crearealidad./tag/compromise for a link to the contest)
Prompt: Booth/Brennan, beers, a ride, literary, black, professional, after, compromising, coffee cups
Brief Note: Inserts slight sneer at the lack of femslash options in this fandom I'm bending the rules just a tad here, but this is what my guilt addled brain came up with (I was supposed to finish my Brennan/Abby (NCIS) fic for International Day of Femslash but failed). So there's a little crossover here, but you can imagine the woman to be anyone, not necessarily Abby... And besides, the crossover has nothing to do with the main pairing. But feel free to screen me into oblivion if I've bent the rules too far...
Warning: Just a little unresolved femslash lurking here amongst the het, but it's still Booth/Brennan, I promise.
It was nearly one a.m. when you called me to come pick you up. You were out with a colleague and you'd forgotten to bring cash for the taxi. I asked why you didn't just find an ATM and you'd laughed, practically snorting, and reminded me that you were quite intoxicated and that you didn't think I would approve of you, traipsing around the city to hunt down an ATM, while under the influence of alcohol.
Even once I found the bar, it took a while to find you in the noisy crowd. After pushing my way through the tiny dance floor, past the video screens and pink walls, I found you at the back bar, perched up on a stool next to a woman in a short dress that was as jet-black as her hair. You had your hand sliding up the inside of her thigh and she was passing you a beer when I spotted you. I froze at the sight of both of you.
Later, after you'd drained a few cups worth of black coffee you would explain that it began with mutual professional respect, just like us. You'd tell me that she was a forensic scientist, a peer, who also happened to share your affinity for what you referred to as the "more literary" works of mystery fiction. She'd enthusiastically asked you out for drinks and you'd agreed, flattered by the woman's attention and praise of your novels. After a few beers and some not so subtle hints from your companion, you'd identified the situation as a prime opportunity to satisfy your natural biological urges.
But there in the bar, I knew none of this. I still don't understand it, but at that moment, I was stunned. I found myself sinking down into a booth near the dance floor, watching you smile and stroke your companion's thigh, scraping your nails across that smooth, pale skin. She looked down at your hand and said something to you, then brought her hand to your bare arm. You were still dressed in the slacks I'd seen you in early this morning, but you'd shucked your jacket and your blouse for a thin brown tank top that clung to your curves and shimmered in the flashing lights of the club.
I watched her hand skim up your arm to your shoulder, drawing you closer until she could whisper something in your ear. Whatever she said, it must have pleased you because I watch as you slide off your stool and came to stand between the woman's spread thighs, aligning your faces for a kiss. You kissed her briefly first, a mere glancing contact. But then the hand on your shoulder rose to curl at the back of your neck and I watched your mouth open to receive her bright red lips.
But what made my breath catch in my throat was your hands. As the goth woman kissed you, your fingers made their way under that short little pleated skirt, appearing to trace along her panty line, probably with your nails considering the way she shuddered in response. I could feel the front of my pants tightening uncomfortably as I became increasingly aroused by your blatantly sexual behavior, imagining that those nails were teasing their way over my thighs and not that woman.
When her other arm came around you, I knew I should stand up, walk over and insert myself in the situation. But then that hand traveled down to your lower back, pressing into you, pushing your hips against her center as you aggressively took control of the kiss, bending her back, taking her lower lip between your teeth and tugging while her mouth parted to gasp for breath. Your hand was still on her thigh, that skirt hiked up and damned near showing her panty line.
As your lips reconnected with hers, I couldn't help but think that this was going to reach a logical conclusion. That I should just duck out and let this woman take you home. I had no idea that you were interested in women, but apparently you were, if your lack of objections to the hand now grabbing your ass was any indication.
Instead, your kiss ended abruptly when the bartender thunked a second beer on the counter next to your companion with a not so subtle grunt. The two of you burst apart, hastily withdrawing your hands and glancing around. She picked up her beer and you snatched up yours and each took a long drink before breaking into a fit of laughter.
Suddenly, your head turned and you caught my gaze. A decidedly dark blush washed over your cheeks at that moment as you glanced nervously from me to your companion, who was busying herself with readjusting her skirt. After taking in a heavy breath, you nodded to me, and I took it as my signal to approach.
I rose carefully, trying to subtly adjust my erection as I approached the two of you. Your companion glanced at me when you said something to her and rose from her seat, extending a hand in greeting. Cautiously I accepted it, shaking the woman's firm grip. You introduced your friend simply as Abby and me as Booth. I shifted uncertainly as the woman eyed me, dressed in the jeans and t-shirt I'd found on the floor when you'd called me out of bed.
I reminded you that I was here to take you home and you glanced over at Abby uncertainly. But Abby was unfazed and immediately dragged you into a bear hug whispering something in your ear as she held you tight against her. My eyes were drawn to her wrists, which jangled with the buckles of the black leather cuffs she wore there, then to her neck, tattooed with a spider web and locked into a leather, dog-collar style, choker. Certainly not what I would have expected. Glancing at you and then again at the bonds, I raised an eyebrow and watched you shrug it off lightly.
Finally, Abby released you and sent us on our way with a resounding slap on your ass. You jumped, yelping and giving her a teasing glare. You didn't relent until the woman gently shooed us off, turning back to her beer and striking up a conversation with the bartender.
I took hold of your wrist and nearly dragged you out through the crowds. It was a relief when we finally heat the cool, clear night air. I paused to take a breath and you leaned into me, on of your hands coming up to hang onto my shoulder, your lithe body pressing against my arm. My erection had not yet abated and the feeling of your hands curling against the muscles there only served to re-assert what had managed to deflate.
You leaned in suddenly, nearly pressing your lips to my ear to ask me if I'd would take you back to my place, rambling on about how it was closer and you had to be up early the next day. All the while your fingers were skimming up and down my forearm like a precursor to something far more intentional and far less innocent.
Like a fool, I stopped your gentle caresses with my callous words. I said that I had no idea you were interested in women and both of your hands dropped away instantly. You turned, straightened yourself and met my eye and I prepared myself for a lecture on the anthropological history of homosexuality among humans. But instead you only said one word. "Compromise."
You were silent after that, and it wasn't until I'd started to move towards my SUV that you started to speak. You were sick of it, this compromise you had made with yourself. You allowed yourself to satisfy your biological urges. That was simple. But you've been forced to swallow, choke back, push down, and neglect the emotional entanglements of sex.
When I prompted you for your reasoning, I was answered with a heavy sigh. Your eyes fell down to the pavement and I could only wait for you to decide to respond. If you were anyone other than Temperance Brennan, I would have sworn you were crying. But you weren't. Your eyes finally lifted and you spoke once more, this time your voice was far less certain and I found myself coming back to where you'd frozen on the sidewalk. You nearly knocked me back when you told me that you compromised because you couldn't have what you really wanted. There had been a time when it had been an honest pursuit. Then, it had been fear of commitment that kept you from allowing anyone to engage your emotions. Now, it just wasn't fair. So you accepted attention where it came, rode it out to its logical conclusion.
"I slake my lust."
The phrase sounded foreign coming from your lips, even to you, because as soon as they were out, your face screwed sideways into an odd frown and your eyes dropped to search the area by your feet.
Perhaps I should have stopped the conversation there. Tucked you into the car, driven you back to my place and herded you onto my couch before you could say anymore.
But I didn't. Instead I asked, no, demanded to know who this person was. I had my theories, but when she finally gave in, finally admitted to me the identity of the man she wanted but could never have.
"Damn it, Booth. It's you. You drew that stupid line."
You shocked me to silence and took it the wrong way. You saw rejection and spun away from me, headed back for the bar, for Abby, for more of your damned compromise. But I managed to grab your arm and hauled you back until you landed heavily against my chest, pissing you off. The heel of your boot caught my shin hard but I held you steady against my chest, wrapping both my arms around you as you squirmed. Thank god you were drunk or you would have flipped me on my ass. Instead, my groin was enjoying the feeling of your hips pressing against me, bumping and writhing within my reach.
Carefully, I took hold of your hair and tilted your head back until my lips could connect with yours, silencing the objections that I could see brewing there. The chaos of your squirming steadied, evening out into a slow rocking against my body, your hips seeking the hard heat of my erection again and again as your teeth took hold of my lips, my tongue, whatever I would let you taste.
Somehow, I managed to drag you to the SUV and get us into the back seat. While one hand dragged that skimpy little tank top over your head, my other hand pulled the knob that allowed the back of the seat to lie, down, giving us more space. You were straddling my hips and leaning down over me and my hands easily were able to free the clasp of your bra, peeling away the last barrier to your breasts. I took no time for pretenses, just let my lips latch ardently onto one of your nipples, sucking and dragging it down until it was elongated and hard, wet from my mouth when I moved to the other one. My hands were already working on the fly of your pants when I pushed you back, leaning you against the back of the passenger side seat to bring my mouth lower. I nibbled rough sucking kisses along the undersides of your breasts and over each bump of your ribs.
You were gasping by then, incoherent and pliable under my hands, which her grasping at your hips until you rose to wrestle yourself free of your pants and then the soft cotton bikini underwear that had been hiding beneath. But it was with surprising strength that you pushed me back down, fully stretched out, my feet dangling in the foot well. I tried to sit back up, but you moved up over my torso, inching forward until your sweet, wet slit was directly over my face. Your hands came down to spread your pussy lips for me, my mouth immediately reaching for the swollen, straining rise of your clit. First my lips pushed back the hood, holding it away from the tip so I could tease it with my tongue, but then the taste began to drive my urgency. Sucking you in tight, I closed my teeth around the base of your clit, feeling your warm juices on my tongue, sweet and tangier than I'd expected.
Above me, I could still hear you moaning between pants, the syllables of my name mixing with whimpered gasps and grunts of pleasure as my mouth increased the tempo of my taste test. Every inch of you was bathed in tinted-window dulled moonlight, nearly glowing white above me. My tongue found its way through your folds, seeking out your entrance and sliding inside, drawing out even more of your taste. The moisture was now coating my lips and my chin as your drove your groin down against me.
My jeans were growing increasingly uncomfortable as your moans grew in intensity. I could feel your muscles beginning to quake and I renewed the urgency of my mouth, drawing the full length of your clit into my mouth, squeezing it and rolling my tongue over the tip rapidly milking it until I felt the shuddering release of your orgasm, pressing you body down against my face, my jaw already aching from the force of you.
When you finally climbed off of me, you dragged your tank top back over your head, sans bra, and then squirmed your way into your jeans. Once you had fastened them, you turned your eyes towards me, laughter playing there, as you told me that this was just your revenge for interrupting, but promised that there was a whole lot more in store, if I'd just take her back to my place. With a teasing stroke of my thigh, she climbed up into the passenger's seat before turning around to grin.