The Truth in the Perfection
Chapter 1: Rendezvous - A Prelude
Rated M, for violence, sexual scenarios and plenty of other implied nastiness.
Disclaimer: Although this story is written in the BONES Universe, I really, really, don't think anyone would lay claim to this.
A/N: This is a story of B&B...from a very different perspective. This concept arose from a frustrated late night conversation with MiniSkole, when I was lamenting the current reality of Season 6 and whinging that writing fanfic in this climate is so much less enjoyable. I like to write canon stories...but the show seems to have abandoned their own canon formula of late; which frustrates me no end. When I crankily suggested abandoning the world of fanfic, MiniSkole threatened to kick my arse...then she asked me why Season 6 is troubling me...it's Hannah, I answered ('Duh!' I hear you say...). No really, but perhaps not in the way that you think...in the aftermath of her departure, I wanted more from her presence in the story than her just being a scripted plot device...because what I've seen doesn't scan. MiniSkole is wise (and her motive is really that she just wants me to write more fanfic), because she asked me how 'I' would have characterised Hannah...It was a bloody good question. What follows is my answer to that question – whether you're a shipper, a noromo or ambivalent on the subject of a B&B relationship, I believe that this re-imagined version may have something for you.
This story is dark, raw, dirty, violent, and unapologetically confronting. If you are a little uncomfortable or offended by what I portray, if you feel my anger and frustration coming through...I've made my point. In my opinion, portraying perfection, (not as in the 'perfect' Saint Hannah we've seen on TV), is not about subscribing to an accepted checklist of attributes, it is about honestly conveying the truth and having the bollocks to accept that truth at face value. Facing the truth is the key to the experiencing the human condition.
Happy Birthday Brainysmrfs!
Afghanistan - Midday - Weather forecast: Hot, and drier than the cock on a camel's carcass
Hannah Burley dutifully trudged toward the outskirts of the compound in the searing heat; the smell of baked silica and old diesel cloying her in her nostrils, the parts that weren't being scorched by the burning air anyway. As a rule, she didn't do 'duty'...here in a war zone there was an oversupply of the dutiful, on all sides. But this duty she would do without question, just as she had been taught, painfully and pleasurably; not that she could tell the difference any more.
There was no warning when the hand clamped over her mouth and she was dragged backwards through the open doorway of a disused supply dump. There never was any warning. Putting up token resistance, which was expected; she tried to relax enough to spring into action if required when she was released, because this was also expected of her. The hand released her mouth and her body was slammed into a heavy steel equipment locker covered with graffiti and faded paint stencils. It hurt, but her Beloved Master always rewarded her suffering; not that she would ever call him that aloud, let alone even think the Arabic phrase in her head...especially not here.
.
"Did you miss me?" he asked.
She nodded. For these rendezvous, the agreed communication strategy was 'don't speak unless specifically asked to'.
"Tell me how much you missed me?" he demanded.
"My mouth aches for the taste of you," she said in a low voice.
"Always pushing for the reward, Hannah," he said with a hint of amusement.
She raised her arm to block the full armed slap that she knew was coming, her wrist jarred with the impact. He grinned and grabbed a fistful of her hair. She arched her back, her lips parted to accept his crushing lips and thrusting tongue. Hannah made a wanton grab for his cock through the fabric of his military issue cargo pants, he batted her hand away and released her lips.
"Talk first," he growled. "You won't be getting any of your famed cock-sucked confessions from me."
"Fine," she said with a pouting smile, only a little disappointed and mildly relieved that she'd been given permission to speak freely. Sometimes he wouldn't allow her to speak at all if he couldn't confirm the integrity of his jamming devices and numerous other precautions that were taken.
"I have a job for you," he said walking away from her to take a seat on an old munitions crate. He waved at the floor, indicating that she should sit. She obediently took a cross-legged position precisely three feet in front of him, forcing her to tilt her head up to make eye contact.
"Finally," she said with a smile. Interviewing a seemingly endless procession of grunts about the mundane reality of their patriotic duty for the past six weeks was getting on her nerves.
"We found a target for you. Army Ranger. No formal ties. Federal agent Stateside. Big and muscle-bound, just how you like 'em," he said.
"What's the hook?" she asked.
"He's taking cannon-fodder on patrol by numbers, doing some sort of training. Get yourself to the coordinates at the time given in your 'weather report'. I'll be creating a skirmish. I'll take a few shots at you, but I'll miss...you need to get arrested, not hospitalised," he explained.
"I'm thankful..." she said.
"Not until my cock is in your mouth, you dirty bitch," he said with a husky laugh.
"You know what I like…" she sighed. It was a fact. He did know.
"There's more," he said shortly, all business. Sex would have to wait.
.
"What's the catch?" she asked.
He gave an approving nod at her perception. "He's got more than half a year left on his contract. We would have preferred if he was a double-digit man, but he's based in D.C., an opportunity too fucking perfect to waste."
She agreed. But double-digit guys were on the final count-down to home, she loved to take advantage of their desperation and frustration; with her mouth in their crotch, using her teeth to graze their manhood. She was getting hot just thinking about it.
"His name is Booth, Sergeant Major Seeley Booth. He could be the one, Hannah. The guy who will get you to the President," he said.
"Speed the day," she said wistfully. Five years of false starts and shagging in a sandbox.
.
He stood and took the step forward that put him within biting distance.
"Don't even think about using those teeth on me, Hannah," he growled.
She gave a light laugh. Her little biting fetish was out of bounds for them, unless she was planning on getting her teeth knocked out. Sometimes, when she was feeling petulant about his treatment of her, she toyed with the idea of it being worth the pain. He stepped back and circled around behind her. 'Fucking tease' she thought to herself.
"On your knees!" he ordered. She complied, instantly flooded with desire for her Beloved Master. Her first lover. He promised that he would be her last. She believed him.
"On all fours, my little Nomad," he said with mirth in his tone. Giving her a rough nudge of encouragement when she gave a huff and hesitated. It was a game they played. Her hands hit the stony sandy packed earth with a slap. Using his pick-pocket fast reflexes her pants pooled around her knees and she heard him freeing her reward. He knelt behind her and she pushed back against him eagerly, to accept her reward. It wasn't her heart's desire; he knew it too. He knew what she liked, but the floor of a supply dump wasn't where she would get it.
She released a pent-up breath as he drove himself deep and took his time. He could be a greedy lover, but he was fair...always delivering her incredible pleasure. It was a combination of his skill and their familiarity. He had taken her thus the first time, when she was sixteen; after spending almost an hour driving her inexperienced body along a shuddering knife edge of pleasure on the floor of the neighbour's Den; while the kids she was babysitting slept upstairs oblivious. She arched her back and sighed. Downward facing doggy-style, she would only ever do this with him, that was the deal. It was theirs alone. Sensing her wavering attention and feeling his own rising ardour, he withdrew and pushed her shoulders down to lap roughly over her sex while she crooned and hummed for more. When she was resonant with arousal and engorged in readiness, he coated his thumb with the salty essence of himself as she looked back at him over her shoulder with a wide smile.
"You're too good to me, Jacob," she growled.
He grabbed her hips and leaned forward so his weight was distributed over her hips and lower back, inserting his thumb into her mouth as he prepared to slam them both into violent sensual oblivion.
"Snare Booth for me, my little Nomad...and I'll show you how good I can be..." he rasped next to her ear.
There were no more intelligible words that followed.
A/N: I'd just like to express my sincere thanks to NatesMama, who has graciously allowed me to experiment this story on her awesomeness, under the guise of being my Beta. I usually don't work with a Beta - but this story is so far out of left field for me. Reviews would be nice, but I completely understand if you refrain...