Title: Between Icy Sheets

Disclaimer: I should own them. I give them a better time than Fox.

Rating: Oh this is such a naughty little M.

A/N: Everyone, including me, likes to think that Brennan and Booth would have a heart-stopping-ly hot time in bed – but this is perhaps a more realistic view on what might happen the first time they end up between the sheets… don't worry… I always give a happy ending. This is a one shot – so no unfinished stories here!

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The first time they ended up in bed, she was less than satisfied with the outcome. Their hands trembled, fingers fumbled and their limbs seemed only to be in each others way. Lying atop the sheets in her underwear, disappointed with the results, Temperance Brennan felt as though her union with Seeley Booth was something of an anticlimax. There was no chemistry, and despite what she had expected, he was no the best lover she had ever had. In fact, not even close.

Raking her fingers through her hair, watching the ceiling, Brennan sighed, thinking that she should have felt self conscious in only a pair of panties and the bra she'd wore to dinner the night before. But she didn't. She felt numb, disenchanted – as though all her hopes had been crushed. She wished she hadn't had so many expectations. If only Angela hadn't filled her head with promises of what a hot lover Booth would be. Next to her, Booth watched the ceiling too, his jaw tight.

"I usually last longer," he said at last. "It's usually better." Brennan groaned, dropping her hand over her eyes. A million excuses were not going to replace the fumbling excuse for sex. She rolled over, wishing that she were alone in her bed, without being expected to accept his mumbling apologies. "You seem hesitant to believe me…" he sounded hurt, turning unto his side, holding his head in his hand. Brennan glanced at him, naked as he lay next to her, his expression grim and defeated. "It don't know why it's not good with you, Bones… it should be so, so good." She tucked her head into the crook of her arm, hiding her eyes from him, hating that the disappointment stung. "I'm afraid of letting you down – and that's exactly what's happened. I'm not relaxed… neither of us are…" she shrugged her shoulders, her voice muffled.

"When there is a hype surrounding things, Booth, they never live up to that hype." She sounded as though she were rationalising the bleakness of their sex. But truth be told, she had been too nervous herself to even put her full enthusiasm into the task. She didn't doubt that she was just as much a disappointment as he. "Should we quit while we're ahead?" she asked, her voice muffled as she spoke. "Should we go back to being Booth and Brennan, crime solving partners, instead of indulging in this foolish, romantic fantasy that our colleagues have woven around us? I think we should." She nodded to herself, sitting up, her half naked body limber and firm as she rolled off the bed. Booth, eyes darkened, inhaled sharply.

"Just because it wasn't what we expected this time, doesn't mean it won't be if we try again." She groaned at the prospect, too impatient to even contemplate having to work at something. She'd been good at all the things she tried in her life – and she wasn't prepared to struggle just to have some half decent sex with a colleague. Friends with benefits? Brennan did not think so. "What? Is the idea of having me inside you again just too repulsive?" Booth asked, his voice slightly raised. She dropped her hand from where her fingers had been pressing her eyelids, and her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. She didn't have the post coital glow that he had hoped to give her, but she looked extraordinarily beautiful all the same.

"No, Booth, that's not it…" she said softly, almost as if apologising. "I just don't think we're what you might call compatible. We have different views in life, in work and apparently in bed…" He shook his head, clambering from the bed with all the elegance of an elephant. His foot caught in the sheets and he momentarily lost his balance.

"Now you see, Bones, that's just not true," he said, hands on his hips. She was glad he had redressed in his underwear, otherwise she might have been distracted by his raging hard on. "You can't say we don't share the same views on sex. We both thought last night sucked. That's what I call a mutual opinion." She sighed, raking her eyes along the firm, solid muscles of his biceps, an unexpected flush of something moving through her own body. "And you can't say that look doesn't mean 'throw me down on the bed and fuck me', because I know it does." She visibly shook herself.

"It does not!" she protested, crossing her arms over her torso. She felt the hair raise on her arms, puckering as goose-flesh and she averted her gaze. "It means 'please put on some clothes, you are distracting me' actually." Booth stepped closer.

"Oh it means that, does it?" he hooked his thumbs into his underwear, pushing the cotton over his legs until he stood before her, naked and a perfect specimen of what man ought to look like. Dark nipples against flat, bronzed skin, tight abdominals that flexed as he sauntered towards her with the primitive swagger of a horny male. Her eyes shifted of their own accord, settling on the long, dark length of his penis which rested against his torso, the tip resting just below his bellybutton. She sighed, turning her head away. "I refuse to believe I am not a good lover," he said, as egocentric as Booth always was. "No woman before you has ever complained." Brennan threw her arms into the air.

"I'd rather not know about your earlier conquests," she snapped, "and just so you know, I'm not frigid. Men don't complain about me, either." Her chest rose indignantly, and she suddenly felt vulnerable, standing only in her underwear. Yet bizarrely, she felt drawn to the sight of his naked body. Almost as if her raw want were forcing its way through the fog of humiliation.

"I feel a lot for you, Brennan," he said softly, unabashed by his nakedness. "I know sex can be good. And I know we're just so afraid to fuck up because what we could have could be astonishingly great." She looked dubious, eyeing the bed with a blatant distrust. How could anything go from 'astonishingly bad' to 'astonishingly good'? she wondered.

"I don't know…" she said, rubbing her fingers over her biceps, suddenly cold. "I'm a realist and…" he moved forward, his fingers finding the base of her neck, pulling her forward until she stumbled, crashing into him. Before she could move, or even protest, his mouth was on hers, his lips soft and urgent – something of a contradiction, but one he managed to pull off with effortlessly. Her hands hovered, as if hesitant to touch his skin. Yet his stomach was pressed to hers, his hard penis probing her belly. His hand moved from her neck, his fingertips dancing along her spine, tracing the indent with whisper-soft precision. She parted her lips, sighing against him, curious at how he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, caressing the hot recesses of her mouth. She remembered their first perfunctory, arms by their sides, kiss and thought their second was definitely better.

As his tongue brushed hers, she moaned, shifting her body, brushing herself against his penis. His free arm snaked around her waist, long enough to encircle her entirely. She felt cocooned, protected by him despite never needing protection in her entire life. His fingers slid into her hair, pulling on the dishevelled strands until she breathed his name, hating that he was proving her to be so very wrong. "You think I can't make this good for you?" he asked, as if reading her mind. Brennan inhaled a deep breath before speaking.

"A kiss isn't sex," she insisted, marvelling at the game she was playing. One moment she wanted to be away from the bed and the next he had magically lured her senses back to him. She ought to have numbed by the disastrous evening they had shared the night before. And earlier, she did. But now, the cold and thawed – the result of one great kiss.

"Then let me make love to you, Temperance," he said, stroking his thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. She felt her lashes flutter against the top of his thumb, and her resolve disappeared.

"Okay," she whispered. He knelt, as though she were a goddess and he wanted to worship her. His eyes traced every inches of her skin, mapping her, reminding himself of just how she looked – the early morning glow painting her flesh. His hands moved over her calves, tracing the back of her legs, over her thighs, making her knees weak. When he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her belly, her fingers sank into his hair, holding him tight. His mouth whispered over her flesh, his breath hot as he kissed her hipbones, the tip of his tongue reaching out to taste her skin. Each time his tongue touched her, her hips shot forward, a reflex she had never seen a doctor test before. When he noticed that the gentle rotations of her hips coincided perfectly with each molten flick of his tongue, he smiled against her belly, his hands shifting over her ass. She felt her nails dig hard against his scalp, and she whimpered, instantly wet.

He inhaled the sweet scent of her and when she glanced down, she saw that his moist lips had felt a shimmering trail along her torso. Her clitoris throbbed at his particular form of branding, and she pressed her teeth to the inside of her lip when his fingers pushed her underwear over her legs. This time, she smelt herself and swallowed hard. He was beyond a doubt, teasing her, waiting to see how she would react to having his mouth so close to her. "When this is done, Bones, you're going to have no doubt about the sexual compatibility of us…" she opened her mouth to respond, but his tongue snaked out, parting her lips and tasting her. Inside of retorting as she wanted, she moaned instead, her mouth opened. The tip of his tongue rotated around the hard, slick nub, back and forth until she thought she might scream. This was nothing awkward about the what he was doing – and she wondered why their first time had not made her want to cry with pleasure.

She knelt, sitting over his thighs, their bodies chilled by the cool wooden floor beneath them. When she touched her lips to him, she tasted herself, and recognised the unmistakable flavour of arousal. His tongue carried the essence of her, and she found the taste desperately erotic.

His thumbs touched her nipples, pressing the tight buds through her bra. She arched her spine, bringing her breasts close to his mouth. He pulled aside the lacy cup, laving the puckered flesh with the flat of his tongue before offering her a brief flick that sent an jolt through her body at a dizzying speed. When his lips closed around her nipple, sucking until the pressure almost hurt.

When he finally slid into her, it felt the way she almost imagined it would. The way Angela promised. Instead of being awkward and fumbling, he knew exactly where to touch her, exactly what way to thrust, and when she lifted her body, until only the tip of his penis was inside her, she felt as though she were empty. Emptier than when the sex was bad. Craving the feeling of being stretched to her limits, she lowered herself, sighing as she did.

They came together, shuddering and whispering each others names. As they held one and other, Brennan decided that sex with Booth had been the best – but she had a distinct feeling that, with time, they could only get better. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek against him. His heart pounded, steady and persistent against her ear and she held him tighter.

"Better than before?" he whispered against her ear and she chuckled.

"Better than before, Booth," she confirmed, slipping away from him. "But not better than next time."

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I haven't written an M rated fic in awhile. I hope you enjoyed it and I really want you to let me know. I'm up to 36 stories on and I hope you like them every time.

Thanks for reading! xo