Disclaimer: These characters are the property of FOX--but they have escaped to have a little fun with me.
Summary: Elaborated and missing scenes from "The Bodies in the Book." Angela's POV. Rated M for adult content.
"PCBs and lead we found in the collagen mean the victim's from the north end of the Chesapeake, probably outside Anapolis." Hodgins' voice is a soft caress in my ear.
I recognize the tone.
It's the same tone Hodgins uses when the evening has ended and there's no where to go except to bed. It's the same tone he uses in the mornings after he joins me in the shower under the pretext of saving water. And it's the very same tone he's used three times this week in the middle of the day and in the most unlikely of places. Like the ringing of the bell to Pavlov's dog, I've become quite conditioned to anticipating the good things that follow in the wake of that tone, and my body salivates in response.
However, on this occasion, Hodgins' intimate purr takes me by surprise.
Not that the venue is all that unusual—Hodgins has whispered sweet nothings in my ear before as we worked alone in my office. It's the circumstances that are confounding me. It's as if he's oblivious to the fact that Brennan and Booth are standing directly behind us, listening. Not to mention the fact that we're right in the middle of identifying a murder victim who, wrapped in red tape and strung up on an anchor, was reduced to crab bait. Obviously, there is nothing too sordid or gross to kill Hodgins' romantic ardor. It's also a tribute to his skills at multi-tasking. He can analyze the chemical and mineral content of the victim's tissue, and at the same time think about the last time we had sex. Or perhaps he's thinking ahead to the next time. Of course, that's why I'm so crazy about him. We are totally on the same page--most of the time. However, right now, I wasn't expecting a seduction.
I try to remain detached, and swallow the smile that's trying to form on my lips. I chide him in front of our audience, slightly embarrassed.
"Did you have to whisper that in my ear?" I reproach him, determined not to let him see the knee-jerk arousal I'm feeling right now.
But Hodgins is smug when it comes to his powers of sexual persuasion, and he's learned by trial and error how to push my buttons. He knows how I will react when he uses that tone with me. He's not abashed or defeated by my feigned disinterest.
"Just seemed right," Hodgins' eyes twinkle wickedly when he answers.
Booth mimics Hodgins' behavior, his sarcasm letting us know that he thinks we're being unprofessional. I smile to myself. He has no idea just how unprofessional Hodgins and I can be. No idea.
Sully comes in, diverting both Brennan and Booth. They begin to argue. Hodgins takes the opportunity to run his hand along my thigh, leaning in close to whisper a decidedly dirty suggestion in my ear. I grin, swatting his hand away. He's in rare form today; insatiable and shameless. I really love that about him.
Things are definitely heating up behind us, and the voices escalate. Booth and Sully are basically fighting over Brennan. I'm getting a perverse pleasure out of this.
"Testosterone spill on aisle four…" I quip.
Hodgins agrees with my assessment, and smirks. The hand returns to my thigh, and I am forced to remove it once more. Someone else's testosterone is certainly making a nuisance of itself.
Brennan, Booth, and Sully continue to work out the logistics of their professional ménage a trois. Hodgins and I look at each other and grin until we are interrupted by a chirp from the image recognition program. Our victim has been identified.
"Jim Lopata," I announce, once more becoming the center of attention. "Not the sicko—the sicko's victim," I clarify.
Brennan scrutinizes the image and the victim's personal stats. Sully begins again with his ever-so-charming concern for Brennan's safety, which is followed by a snide comment or two from Booth, and ends with Brennan snapping at both of them like a cornered badger. Eventually, the three of them take it out of my office, their voices fading off down the hallway.
Hodgins makes his move.
"You do know that some of us have to work for a living, don't you?" I tell him as he begins kissing my neck, the tip of his beard a pleasant tickle on my skin.
I have to stop him now before I give in to his caresses. He's made a study of my erogenous zones the past few months, and knows how to raise my pulse rate in an obscenely short amount of time. His hand is back on my thigh, leaving nothing to chance.
"You know what I want to do right now?" Hodgins' voice is a soft rumble in my ear.
"Of course I know—it doesn't take a rocket-scientist to figure that out," I retort, stopping his hand from its meandering course beneath the hem of my skirt. I'm shooting furtive glances at the open glass door to my office, wondering how many people are going to wander by in the next few minutes and get an eyeful. We're already the talk of the lab as it is.
"Rocket science is really overrated…" Hodgins replies. His hand changes course and moves instead up under the front of my blouse.
"Oh, really?" I challenge him, though failing even to convince myself. "If that's so, how… how come rocket scientists can send rockets into orbit, and into space, and over the moon?"
I'm babbling now. It's really pathetic.
"I'll send you over the moon, Baby, just give me a few minutes of your time…" Hodgins counters. I find that he's enjoying my seduction way too much. I find that I'm enjoying it way too much.
Hodgins' fingers have breached the defense of my brassiere, and as skin touches skin, I quiver uncontrollably. I'd resist, but I find the nerve endings in my right tit are alerting all the pleasure receptors south of my belly button, and it just feels too good to make him stop right now.
I know with a certainty that someone is going to walk in on us at any minute.
Of course, that someone would have to be Zach. Clearing his throat loudly, he announces his presence behind us.
Hodgins deftly removes his hand from my blouse and looks up, greeting Zach with a studied casualness. "Hey, what's up, Man? Did you know that we've got a positive ID on the victim?"
Zach knows that something was going on before he came in, he just can't determine what, and to what extent. He purses his lips petulantly before he answers. "Yes, yes I do. Doctor Brennan told me that you'd made the identification."
Zach is still staring at Hodgins, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He doesn't dare look at me because he knows I'd kick his ass all the way back to Michigan.
"Doctor Brennan wants you to do a complete analysis of all the particulates found on the victim and his clothing," Zach continues, muscling in between us to get a look at Jim Lopata on the monitor. He forces Hodgins to abandon his seat next to me.
"She said now," Zach adds with the faintest trace of satisfaction in his voice.
Over Zach's shoulder, I cast Hodgins a sympathetic look. I hear him grumbling as he leaves my office. "Just because some guys can't get laid…"