It goes without saying, I should hope, this being on a fanfic site that I do not, in fact, own the characters or even general idea of the show Bones. However, I do like to pretend sometimes that I am awesome enough to come up with such a great idea. :) Enjoy my imaginings!
"What exactly happened after you...after you crawled into bed with Booth?" Angela stared at her in disbelief - happy disbelief.
Booth fell back onto the bed, Brennan wrapped securely in his arms. He whispered comforting words into her auburn locks, wanting so desperately to take away the pain obvious in her sobs.
Brennan wept. She wept for the loss of Vincent; she wept for Zack, the wound fresh once again at the loss of her new intern; she wept for fear; she wept for the evils in the world; and finally, she wept for the renewed realization that the bullet had been meant for Booth.
It was this last thought that caused her to sit up suddenly, pushing away from him only to grant her access to a better vantage point, looking over at her partner.
"It was meant for you," she said softly, barely a whisper.
Booth simply stared at her. His voice caught in his throat, so he coughed to clear it.
"But it didn't get me, Bones. It didn't get me..." he trailed off, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Saying it made it sink in. Not the guilt; he had dealt with the guilt before. But it hit him like a freight train, plowing through the walls he had built in the wake of Hannah. He reached out, realizing that he needed to comfort her, his hand cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed away the tears streaming down.
Booth believed in God; he believed in Fate. The bullet had been meant for him, but here he was, with Bones in his arms.
There was a moment of stillness, Booth's hand on Brennan's cheek, her tears pooling on his fingers. The moment stretched while they shared the same thought: the bullet was meant for Booth. And it would have hit its target.
The gambler made a bet, and the scientist made a decision based on the lack of time travel capabilities and basic probability.
They met timidly in the middle, their movements simultaneous, their lips brushing together like a faint awakening. They barely touched, staying apart out of fear, out of respect for the recently deceased, but these things also forced them forward. They had shared the moment of Vincent's passing. They had opened the wound together, and the only way they could think to close it again was to close it together.
Brennan leaned into him. Her movement caused his hand to slip down and settle on the bed next to her. Her tears started to dry, her pain being momentarily pushed aside, as something much stronger took over - something 7 years in the making. He seemed to be responding positively, so she felt no need to pull away.
Booth's fingers slid stealthily over the sheets, brushing Brennan's hips. Slow and steady wins the race, he thought, as they touched the thin fabric against her curves. Still, he felt electricity at the proximity. Slow. And. Steady. He pulled away from the tender kiss, and a slow, surprised smile spread over his
features, reflecting Brennan's grin. The silence was drawn out, one debating how to say the words, the other wondering if words would break the momentum.
He opened his mouth to speak, but her mouth covered his again, and they fell back onto the bed. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her close against him as they shared another tender kiss, though this one seemed more insistent and bold than the last. Her lips opened, allowing his tongue access, briefly teasing hers. Their breath quickened with fear and anticipation.
Brennan pushed herself further onto the bed; Booth shifted over to stretch out, and her legs parted, settling on either side of him. Her weight settled onto his hips, the rest of her gently moving against his chest. The new position allowed his arms and hands the freedom to roam. One slid to her soft brown locks, the other wrapped around her shapely hip - what would she call it? - her iliac crest. Her own fingers roamed to his shoulders, brushing against the clavicle, down to his chest and over his well-muscled abdomen.
He gambled again, the hand not occupied with her hair gently pulling the edge of his worn sweatshirt up, freeing the skin below. Her flesh was warm beneath his fingers, soft and smooth - all that he had imagined it would be during lonely nights and in the vivid second life of his coma. Although it was
electrifying, his hero complex was in hyper-drive, and he could only think of comforting her. He mentally chided himself; slow and steady, he reminded his fingers.
Brennan had no trouble switching modes, as her hormones rose swiftly to the occasion. Her own fingers had found the bottom of his t-shirt, and she tugged it up slightly, brushing her cooler fingertips over his hot skin. The temperature difference was noticeable enough to push Booth to a sharp intake of breath. She smiled against his lips and opened her eyes to give him a knowing look. She had often thought, and even said, that a sexual encounter between the two of them would be highly satisfying. In just these few moments, she could tell how compatible they would be, even when not up to all of her abilities in the bedroom.
Booth saw the smile, and his own crept up, as well. He pulled both arms up and cupped her face in his hands again, planting another soft kiss on her lips. She pulled away, and his confused frown quickly changed to joy as she sat up and pulled the sweatshirt off, tossing it onto the empty side of the bed. She
gave him a look that said "why are you not doing the same?" Getting the hint, he almost frantically sat up and tugged his own shirt off, exposing his chest. This brought a wider smile to his partner's lips, and she lowered herself again, until their skin touched.
A breathless minute passed, their skin warming at the contact. Booth's lips landed on Brennan's neck, caressing the soft flesh there, his hands splayed on her back. Her own eyes closed at this tender teasing, her fingers curling around his swollen biceps. She had often thought about his amazingly proportioned
figure in this way, though the timing was not what she had had in mind in those heated imaginings. She tilted her head, revealing the tender spot at her clavicle to his ministrations. The soft bite he administered there made her tingle. He brought his hand up to her scapula, pulling her down closer to his lips, so he could taste more of her skin there. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she could feel the smile against her skin.
This is quite comforting, she thought.
Booth pulled away from the beautiful curve there and leaned back to admire her. In the very dim light of the room, she was little more than a silhouette, but his mind filled in the details, and his fingers' dance over her body helped confirm those images. His chest seemed tight - a combination of his recent grief, his sense of mortality, and the beginning of a moment that had been eluding him for 7 years. He pushed himself on an elbow and wrapped his free arm around her, enveloping her in his warmth to kiss her again.
The kiss was warm, hot even. Their tongues explored more freely, and Brennan pressed firmly against him, rocking her hips against the noticeable bulge in his boxers. She could feel that he was aroused, not that she was surprised - being in such close proximity to her in so little clothing, coupled with the
physical demonstrations of attraction shared so far. Still, this made her happy, since she was equally aroused. Somewhere she worried about the timing of this, but she had to admit that recent events was likely what had driven her here to this moment – would this be happening if not for Vincent's death today? If that bullet had hit its intended target, this would not be an option, and she truly would have lost her chance.
Booth's eyes squeezed shut at her movements. He soothed himself with the thought that she had initiated this particular part of his comforting her, so he wasn't taking advantage, per se. Though, he thought, if she keeps that up, I might have to. Despite his amazing self control, his thumbs looped under the elastic of her silky panties and tugged them down just slightly, enough to let her know that he was interested. She didn't need much more convincing; at his gentle urging, she lifted herself until her legs were straight, though she still leaned down into a kiss. Her show of flexibility made Booth gulp with anticipation – tonight perhaps would be simple and soft, a mutual tenderness in respect for the deceased, but after tonight? Yowza. Slowly, teasingly, she shimmied out of the silky underthings, finally reaching down with one hand to tug them free from her legs. Seeing this, he quickly kicked out of his boxers, and she settled back down to her previous position.
The warm skin of his erection rubbed suggestively under her, pressing against her thigh and over her clit. He could feel that she was ready for him, physically. He looked at her with an upraised eyebrow, a silent question to continue or give her more time...what was right? What was reverent and good to honor a fallen friend? Mourn in solitude or celebrate life? These questions grew between them, and they came to their answer simultaneously.
Brennan's fingers helped to guide Booth, not that he needed it. He slid into her easily, and they sat motionless for a while, having crossed a barrier from which there truly was no return.
Uncontrolled, Booth's eyes closed and he took in a sharp breath, the warmth of her surrounding him entirely now. He had waited, since the day he met her, to feel this connection, and there it was - all he had imagined, and more. She smiled to see his face in that moment before she began to rock her hips again. He thrust up to meet her, finding a rhythm that suited them both. She buried her face in his neck, kissing the sensitive skin there, returning the favor from earlier. He smiled at this, moaned her name softly, and his hands brushed against her waist, softly, barely touching the skin. Brennan felt the tiny hairs stand on edge at this teasing, and she gasped into his flesh.
She rode him for a while, finding her own pleasure and setting her own pace. Booth was more than happy to give her the reigns for now, and he bit back his release to ensure that this moment did not end too quickly. She slowed after a small orgasm made her body tense and kissed him again - softly and promising - then stopped, absorbed by the tenderness and emotions of their lips touching. Booth sat up, wrapped an arm around her, and slowly, without losing his place inside her, pushed her over onto her back.
Now at this vantage point, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper and tightening the walls around his erection. His lips covered hers, and he began to thrust his hips evenly, finding his own rhythm now. He felt her walls tighten around him, saw her arch her back in the throes of orgasm,
heard her whisper his name, and he drove faster until, finally, his own release came.
He dropped his head and caught his breath, each of them still shaking from the height of their passions. When he could breathe evenly again, he lifted his eyes to hers. She was smiling. He smiled back, and he stole one last kiss before slowly rolling off of her and falling onto his back, his hand caressing the
side of her thigh.
Questions filled Booth's mind, but he had no desire to voice them, choosing instead to trust this moment. Brennan had wondered why God would take Vincent, and though he could not answer that in truth, he felt that perhaps God had taken this terrible moment to give them both a swift kick in the pants...no pun intended, he mused. He looked over at her, and the look she gave him answered all of those questions. He felt her fingers lace with his, and he smiled, looking back at the ceiling.
She could only smile shyly and let out a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.