It's all so nice...
For an unknowable period of time Brennan had been wandering in and out of shimmering dreams, clutching a pillow tightly against her in lieu of the person she'd been holding onto most of the night. These particular dreams were...interesting, to say the least, with sounds and sensations so real you might have thought you were actually experiencing them in the flesh. Booth was there deep in her psyche, and he was doing some incredibly pleasurable things to her; his mouth intent on devouring whatever his lips made contact with, quick fingers touching her everywhere as their bodies headed towards armageddon one more time.
Yes, so, so very nice...right until she was unceremoniously snapped out of the hypnotic reverie by moist, warm lips that were definitely real and not imagined.
Lips that were roving insistently over the skin of a bare shoulder with the lightest of kisses as she lay on her side, stopping occasionally to suck gently before moving on higher, inching dangerously close with each new pass to the very sensitive-and very exposed-area of her neck. Even so she stubbornly refused to open her eyes at the intrusion, prefering to hold on instead to the remnants of those last, brilliant images now frustratingly almost beyond reach.
But while her eyes were making every effort to ignore the commotion going on in the vicinity of her ear, another part of her anatomy was quickly becoming interested.
"Again?" she mumbled drowsily, eyes still closed. The words conveyed mild disbelief, but no real objection.
If the threadbare question was meant to shame Booth into rethinking his current strategy to even the smallest degree, it failed miserably. He was still living almost entirely off yesterday's massive adrenaline rush and the exultant euphoria that followed, too focused on the heat of her body to pick up on any subtle hints she might be throwing his way.
Because when push came to shove, Bones chose him; could have fled, pleading the circumstances. Told him that it was a mistake, a hormonal anomaly, that it was completely irrational and unsustainable. That they were both too vulnerable, not thinking straight. That his avowals of earlier that day were way too much, too soon.
And then where would he be now? God only knew, but he was sure it wouldn't be anywhere good-and definitely not in her bed this morning. But she chose him, to be with him, after the brutal hit that was Vincent's premature death and the unexpected bonfire of their first time together; took his arm after Vincent's improvised memorial service outside the Jeffersonian, looking just shy and hesitant enough for him to know exactly what she meant by that small gesture-hopeful and earnest, that's what it was, just like he'd been feeling right until she touched him.
Because after that, he'd been mostly good old plain, punch-drunk happy.
And if that wasn't enough to make his heart bust at the seams, just as they were leaving the lab she asked if he wanted to come over to her place for dinner. He said yes, of course.
Damn yes.
Would have agreed to almost anything at that point, no matter how ridiculous or unreasonable, anything that didn't involve having to go home alone. They ended up taking his SUV, forsaking her car to the cold shadows of the Jeffersonian's garage in a pretty solid indication that they wouldn't be parting ways anytime soon. Not the rest of the night, he prayed. High and mighty expectations, sure, for a mere mortal such as he, but hope seemed to know no bounds this day.
As he pulled out of the lot, careful to let the other cars go first to avoid any possible speculation on their coworkers' part, he snuck a peek at her. Bones was resting her head thoughtfully against the side window, her features highlighted softly by the dim lights from the garage, looking so amazingly beautiful despite the evident exhaustion in her eyes. Beautiful and uncharacteristically subdued, as she submitted to his juvenile hand-holding in the car without a single protest, and without once complaining about the erratic, one-handed driving she had to live through as he plowed on ahead.
She also looked...willing.
To do what exactly, only time would tell. When he thought back on that drive, it occurred to him that it was practically a miracle they hadn't climbed up a light-pole or hit a tree on the way to her place, because his mind was everywhere but on the road at the time. And how he had found his way there without making a single wrong turn remained a mystery. Maybe it was meant as a sign from above that they were heading in the right direction, after all.
When they got to her apartment thoughts of food were quickly banished to a forgotten corner, where they rightfully belonged. And after spending most of the night getting better acquainted with each other in between clipped bouts of dead sleep, it was still unreal to him that he could conceivably have her whenever he wanted.
So the roving wasn't about to stop if Seeley Booth had any say in the matter, not until he came by way of some heartfelt, true-blue resistance.
"Yeah, again…unless you don't want to…" He added the last without much enthusiasm.
There was no answer.
Feeling encouraged by the license implicit in that silence, he began letting hands and then lips stray to some of his newly found favorite places, places that were so temptingly off-limits before but were now finally, gloriously available to him for the taking. He nudged her from her side onto her back with his nose and chin and kissed her neck again, his hands never leaving her skin, hearing her moan softly in the process. Nope-no real resistance that he could detect.
If he could have read her mind, he would have known he had nothing to worry about because she wasn't planning on offering any.
Deep lethargy had seeped into every muscle of Brennan's body, and all she could currently manage was taking, not doing. Being lazy had never felt so good. Basking, indulging in every attention of his that came her way-while also wondering a little curiously how many times this one would make. That was assuming of course, that this attempt came to fruition-and there was no indication so far that it wouldn't. All she could come up with was a lot. To that highly imprecise quantitative description alone she was willing to commit. Such inexactitude should have been inherently offensive, but she gave herself a pass; not even Temperance Brennan could be expected to effectively multitask under the circumstances.
"I want you-I want this. I'm sure…"
Those deceptively simple words had set a chain reaction of massive proportions in motion just a day ago, with no foreseeable end in sight.
Not that she even remotely wanted it to end; now that desperation was no longer setting the tone for what they were doing with each other, a newfound spirit of tender playfulness had begun to emerge within the much-abused sheets of her bed. Brennan found this new facet of her relationship with Booth to be very much to her liking.
"You're the one who has to get up early to go to Parker's game" she replied after a while, eyes still obstinately closed.
"So, are you saying you're willing if I am?"
"I believe that's the general point I was trying to convey."
She felt him smile as he let his lips go back to her neck, alternately nipping and licking along the way.
"Booth," she huffed, squirming under his breath, "that tickles."
"How about this?"
Brennan's eyes finally flew open and her heart lurched forward as he applied considerably more suction than he had before, causing her to arch her back at the pressure and involuntarily thrust herself deeper into his already busy hands.
"You're going to leave another hematoma" she said breathlessly, half-heartedly trying to edge him out by shrugging her shoulder. It didn't work.
"Is this your idea of a mark of proprietorship? Marking your territory is entirely too predictable and adolescent of a behavior, you should know that."
"They're not hematomas, Bones" he whispered into her skin in hoarse, low tones as the suction eased. "They're called hickeys, for your information. And you can't complain-you gave me more than one already; I can feel them. So who's marking who, I ask?"
"Whom."
"What?" Booth asked, now hopelessly confused.
"Who is marking whom is the grammatically correct expression. And a mass of broken capillaries is still a mass of broken capillaries, regardless of the quaint vernacular appellation. At least you can cover yours up with a dress shirt and tie. What am I supposed to do if I don't want to announce to the entire Jeffersonian staff that I've been engaging in activities of a sexual nature with someone? With you of all people, Booth?"
"Wear a scarf? Make-up?" he replied flippantly, not bothering with the pretense that he had any amount of genuine interest in her predicament. Her neck, vulnerable and way too accessible, was currently taking up what little attention he still had left over after the craziness that had been the preceding two sleep-deprived days. His body had gone into auto-pilot mode a while back, no longer taking cues from his addled, over-taxed brain.
"Besides, Angela's the one who would notice the most and she already knows because you blabbed about us doing it first chance you got."
"I didn't blab" she said, slightly offended. "I was just under a great deal of stress at the time and…"
He laughed. "Hey, I'm not upset. I'm just teasing you. I don't mind, as long as it doesn't end up in one of your books. Actually, maybe I don't mind if it does. Now you can write all about Agent Andy and his many special talents from personal, hands-on experience. No more relying on daydreams and Angela's imagination for you."
She gave up with a burst of soft laughter as he bit gently into her earlobe.
"Here, is this better?"
"Only marginally" she replied, settling more fully on her back and putting her arms around his neck to signify her approval of what was so obviously coming next. He automatically shifted his position in response and his hands slipped over the sides of her ribcage as he tried to find some leverage on the bed, his thumbs going roughly over the peaks of her breasts in the process. She kissed him.
It's all so easy, Brennan thought entranced, as their lips met again and again in deep, open-mouthed kisses that were all about a feverish, insatiable hunger and the reckless need for more. More of each other, more of this, whatever this was. In all her endless mental calculations about what being with Booth would be like, the one thing she hadn't really counted on was how easily things would flow between them and how perfectly natural it would all come to be once it happened. Truly astonishing what years of sublimated attraction suddenly unleashed could accomplish in just one day-Sweets could probably earn another doctorate out of that one.
Her legs parted languidly on their own, making way for him. Sometime after Vincent's death her overly-cautious, analytical side had stopped working and there was undeniable joy in that; luxuriating in how good the full weight of Booth's body felt over hers, she could only hope it wouldn't start again anytime soon.
And it all felt good-he felt good, everything about him, about being with him felt good, even as somewhere in the background her body was complaining weakly about being sore and achy.
Well, in a likelihood she thought smiling vengefully, he'd probably be having more than a few sensitive spots of his own today.
She let Booth do all the work this time, because she was still sleepy and he was the one responsible for yanking her out of her blissful slumber in such spectacular fashion. It didn't matter; reality was turning out to be far better than any imaginary stimulus her dreams could provide. And as for the strictly unilateral attention coming her way, she decided not to feel too guilty about it. Things didn't have to be perfectly matched every single time, she allowed after a short internal debate. There would presumably be many more opportunities in the future in which to even the score.
The pressure that had ceased on her neck a minute ago increased elsewhere as Booth found his way back inside her without any effort, like they'd already been doing this for a long, long time. He was setting the rhythm, doing just the right things to ensure that she wasn't left too far behind wherever he was going. Booth had always been very generous in every respect with her before, both personally and professionally, and she was more than a little glad to see that his goodwill extended all the way into the bedroom.
Very generous...her last semi-coherent thought before she let herself go, shivering helplessly against him, flowing into the rushing waterfall alongside deafening, roiling waters. Falling first, then flying, rocketing up into the white-hot sun to a place dizzyingly far away, with him following soon after. So, so very good…