okay, this is a total cop-out, mindlessly indulgent, short little smutty oneshot for my 'feels like home' readers who are apparently hard up and clamoring for the smut, and for me, cause i'm also clamoring for it, apparently. ;)
so here we go. no plot line, no massages, no fluff. just the good stuff, baby.
also very little concern for staying in character. though i do firmly believe that brennan would be a tiger in the sack.
here's the disclaimer. they aren't mine. let's not harp on it, it's painful enough as it is.
Poof went the pillows under the weight of his swiftly falling body.
Slap... slap went the handcuffs over his head.
"Now you are my prisoner, Agent Booth," Brennan cackled gleefully as she looked down at her bare-chested partner stretched out on the bed for her perusal.
"Bones! Come on," he spoke like he thought she was joking, and would suddenly blush and release him. When she straddled his waist and arched her back, letting down her hair and rubbing her fingers through her long and surprisingly lush locks, his eyes widened. "You're... you're not serious?"
She just cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, catching the hem of her shirt. In one swift movement she'd pulled it over her head, and Booth took in the view. Her lithe form sat straight on top of him with her plentiful breasts rounded above the top of the black cotton bra, arms raised as her hands caressed her scalp.
Booth's breath caught in his throat.
She suddenly and briefly ground against his hip. His windpipe clamped completely and he stared up at her in amazement.
When she began gyrating above him, his open mouth closed into a grin and his eyes slid shut. Groan.
She now arched forwards and began kissing his stomach, moving slowly upward while never ceasing the movement of her hips.
"Oh, Bones... you are going to be the death of me."
"There will be no dying tonight," she stated reproachfully. "Well, maybe just a little death." The smirk into his chest went unnoticed. "Or two..." She smiled broadly to herself. Or ten.
She kissed his nipples. Groan. His collarbone. Louder groan. The hollow of his neck just below his jawline.
He had loosed a continuous and mottled moan by then.
When she eventually released his skin from her lips, he snatched them with his own. For just a moment, she found herself lost in his tuneful kiss. As least she thought it was just a moment. It was possible that it had been several languid days.
When she pulled away, swiftly or finally (she didn't like making calls like that when she didn't have all the evidence on hand, and she certainly hadn't been fully cognizant during that kiss), she nipped lightly at his lower lip and sat up again.
She let her fingers play across his chest, every inch lower they crept, the wetter she became. And suddenly, her body cried that with his hands chained up, it was getting zero attention.
Release his hands? No. He was her prisoner, interior cackle. She'd just have to take care of it herself.
Booth stared in awe as his partner's hands danced down his torso, teasing and lightly scratching him all the way. When they met the spot where she straddled him, he wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he was certain he hadn't expected her hands to start sliding up her own body.
What on earth did I do to deserve something this hot?
Her fingers sketched her low-cut jeans above the bikini line, dodging her most responsive places with a shiver and ran up her front slowly. A year later, they cupped her breasts over the bra, gripping gently. Open-handed play eventually gave way to a reach for the clasp of her bra. Booth took a deep breath in anticipation.
They were perfect, he thought to himself. Her full breasts hung just slightly under the weight. Oh, how he wanted to touch them. He said so and tugged at the cuffs. The request was denied, so he simply praised her body with his eyes.
Her fingers pinched and rolled her nipples, occasionally venturing up to be moistened in her mouth. Tingles connected her breasts to her groin. They both tensed under her own scorching touch. She locked her eyes on his face and watched it play a thousand emotions in quick succession, none occurring so often as wonder and devotion. Those two looks added just a tingle of fright to the exhilaration she was experiencing.
Brennan's hands eventually stopped and moved south again.
When fingers found the button of his slacks, she looked a question at him.
"Oh, you'd damn well better," he smirked.
Tongue flicking out to wet her lips, she undid the button and let her hand brush him and herself both as she pulled the zipper.
It was startling, after how painfully slow all of her movements had been up to that point, how quickly he found himself stark naked, spread on the bed. She stood, studying his long lines, and the exceptionally solid one standing perpendicular. Her jeans were shortly on the floor, and she was once again straddling him.
She was really going to do this, Booth thought, mind still boggled. She shifted so that his girth pressed against the front of her pelvis and she pressed herself into it.
Now it was her turn to groan.
Over the next very long moment, she rubbed, ground herself, slipped the outside of her senselessly wet folds against his pulsing cock and when she finally pressed his velvety head to her clit, her head flew back. The surge was rising.
Her breaths came in gasps and she came grunting loudly. A fierce shudder ripped through her and then echoed off the walls and back through her.
Holy shit, she thought when thought returned.
Holy shit, his mind could come up with only those words. He had never had a woman take her pleasure from him like that and it was one of the most brilliant things he'd ever seen. He decided that he wanted nothing more than to touch her and taste her and make fifteen brainiac babies with her and watch her do that every night for the rest of his life.
She leaned forward and kissed him, gasping into his mouth and stroking his shaft along the outside of her wetness.
Booth absorbed every millisecond of contact he could draw from her mouth and pressed himself up against her lips down below.
"Ohhh, Temperance." Soft kiss. "God, I want to touch you," he breathed against her sweet mouth. "Come on, take off the cuffs," he appealed.
Out of breath, but matter-of-factly, "No."
Booth couldn't explain why her answer shot a charge through him.
Laying against the smooth power of his chest, she ran her fingertips along the side of his torso and up to grasp his shoulders. Pulling herself up toward the headboard, she shifted until the head of his cock pressed lightly against her opening. With a building sigh, she lowered herself onto him.
Booth, who had been barely breathing, now took in great gulps.
Brennan's great intellect failed her then. Thoughts and desires were replaced by the raw feel of his huge, throbbing appendage filling and stretching her to her limit. And then some. The bands of indulgence around her hips tightened uncontrollably and she cried them to the room.
Finally, when her head threatened to melt into his shoulder, she tried to reclaim some control by sitting up. It partly backfired on her, he was now pushed deeper inside of her and had begun to press up into her firmly. She twitched. Then she began to stroke herself up and down his shaft, thready moan fleeing her lips.
Booth was in shock. His partner, his Bones had handcuffed him to the bed and was now riding him with raving abandon. It was no small miracle that he'd lasted so long. Every woman he'd ever been with paled in comparison, but without his experience, there was no way he would have been able to maintain himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to.
But Booth was strong and he endured. More than once he held his eyes closed and recounted hockey stats. He was determined that this would last as long as she wanted, but she wasn't making it easy, clamping around him so much.
And looking like she did.
She rose above him like a monument, beautiful and upright. Her face was flushed, sweat beaded her brow and her lips were redder than he'd ever seen them. But her eyes were closed tightly. Her eyes, he thought. I need to see her eyes.
"Temperance," he called to her.
The lids of her blues fluttered open and she gazed hazily down on him where he lay, vulnerable and powerful and intoxicating. His study of her eyes was so intense it stung, and she could only bear it for a few moments before her body began to quiver and her eyes slammed shut again.
She'd never decided how to count her orgasms. When she arrived at a point where she came and came and started coming down just to rise up and come again, and then repeated the pattern several times, she wasn't sure whether each peak should count as one or whether they were all part of one ridiculously long orgasm. Of course, the firm logic of numbers was entirely abstract by then anyway, so she never paid that much attention.
Now she trembled, she quaked, her mind ran to everywhere and nowhere as her body moved outside her control. She came long and hard, crying over and over again, "Oh God, Booth!" Eventually, his name was the only word her mouth knew how to form, and she called it to the heavens.
When her mouth had no more words, she fell against his chest, spent. She continued to roll her hips and he pumped into her steadily.
Speech came again briefly. "You gonna come for me, Booth?"
That was all he needed.
When his upward thrusts increased, she whimpered into his neck and began to clench around him again.
"Temperance," he whispered into her ear. Her lips grazed his neck as she moaned weakly into his skin. She didn't think his firmly muscled body could become any harder than it was, but then it tightened impossibly and shook and he came hot within her. She trembled violently again and then at long last relaxed into him.
"Not to diminish how astoundingly erotic that was, but are you ever going to take these handcuffs off?"
She grunted into his chest. "Ugh, you want me to get up and find the key after all those orgasms you gave me?"
"Bones, my hands are falling asleep."
"So am I," she mumbled.
"Bones," his voice had a trace of whining.
"Oh alright." She rolled out of bed.
Booth, unable to do anything else, and suspecting he would be in the same predicament handcuffs or no, followed her naked form with his eyes and watched as she bent over to pick up his jeans.
He blinked. Breathe, Booth.
Finding the keys, she returned to him. She finally released his wrists and he had to remind himself to breathe once more when her breasts invaded his face. Arms wrapped swiftly around her body, pulling one breast to his mouth while he rubbed his wrists behind her back.
She chuckled. He pressed an extended kiss to each reddened nub and let her sink back down to sprawl across him and rest her head on his shoulder.
After a long silence where they just held each other, Booth spoke.
"Okay, maybe handcuffs aren't so bad."
good stuff? are we all sated for at least the next fifteen minutes? ;)
r&r please! click the button and tell me if you liked it, if you want more, if i should just stop writing altogether... :) tell me what you think!