Well, don't expect something epic because this will be nothing but fluff. Usually I don't post my stories before they are complete, but I had this idea, and I needed to go with it. Let's take a look a one moment every year and fill in the blanks. I promise you, there will come more and I strongly believe in happy endings. Sorry for my lack of beta, I hope it is enjoyable nevertheless.
A Streetcar Named Eventually
First Year: The Truth in the Tequila
"I don't know. I just feel like, um, this is goin' somewhere."
The sound of raindrops against the windows of the cab was almost like a knocking. Panting heavily, Dr. Temperance Brennan – world-renowned forensic anthropologist – rested her overheated head against the cool glass while her mind tried to process what just had happened.
This man!
He had kissed her, or she had kissed him, but that wasn't what irritated her. Kissing was a common overture to sexual contact, and sexual contact followed by release was all too human and perfectly normal – healthy even if practiced with certain considerateness and under acceptable hygienic conditions.
No, Temperance Brennan was fine with sexual contact.
What bothered her was merely the opposite, the fact that the steamy kiss she had just shared with this cocky FBI agent had not led to something more. She had backed out like a coward, and that was a character trait that Brennan was not familiar with.
It was almost as if he had challenged her with the confession of his gambling problem, and she had kept her head down.
Why had he pursued the need to make more of it than it was?
The kiss had been pretty exciting, even electrifying, and when she had felt the tip of his tongue against her own, his male flavor mingled with traces of Tequila, a spark of heat had been ignited deep in her belly, followed by an almost painful tightening in her breasts. He would have been a very equal and satisfying sexual partner, somehow she was sure of this – and not only because of his appealing symmetrical feature or his broad shoulders. No, there was more to this man, something she couldn't quite name, but that intrigued her.
He was like one of her bone puzzles, and she felt the sudden desire to dissect him, to figure him out. Metaphorically speaking, of course, not even she was that literal.
Brennan sighed in frustration, as her sex throbbed mercilessly in abandonment. Well, thanks to her own unexpected weakness there wouldn't be sexual release tonight, at least not with the man she desired. For a moment she pondered to make a call, there were several man who would be pleased to do her that special favor, but somehow she wasn't in the mood for a different touch, another mouth moving over her own.
What was it that made Seeley Booth so interesting to her?
Unlike most of the men she met, he hadn't been intimidated by neither her intelligence nor her beauty. Brennan knew that she was an attractive woman, and Agent Booth didn't seem to be oblivious to that fact, considering his bold flirting. And regarding the other parameter... he had even been able to teach her a few things she hadn't known so far. She had surprised him with her findings, but instantly he had regained his composure, had raised the bar.
He was challenging.
Besides, he seemed to be pretty successful and outstanding in his own field of expertise.
Maybe she had done it wrong, maybe she should have decided right at the beginning if she wanted him to be a potential lover or a potential coworker. Usually, she had no problem to compartmentalize those things; her romantic affair with her former professor was proof enough.
Why was it that this clear line started to blur faced with Seeley Booth? What was his secret?
It was still raining furry animals – cats and rabbits? – when the cab stopped in front of her apartment building, and Brennan ran towards the entrance. It didn't help, though, and within seconds she was soaked. Her light coat clung uncomfortably to her upper body, and as soon as she was inside, she stripped down, leaving behind a trail of wet clothes on her way to the bathroom.
The air conditioner was working, and when she stood naked in front of her big bathroom mirror, goosebumps were covering her damp skin, straightening up the feathery hair on her forearm, her antibrachium. The peaks of her full breasts were taut, braving the chilly air without shame.
Her previous arousal had given her hips a certain heaviness, her cheeks a distinct flush, and Brennan studied herself thoroughly, finally shrugging her shoulders.
His loss.
Stepping under the shower, she loosened her ponytail and turned the water as hot as bearable. While the steamy droplets hit her body, slowly warming her to the insides, her mind traveled back in time.
Much to her surprise she had enjoyed working with fresh bones, solving a recent crime. Of course she had been more than capable of doing so, and working as an FBI associate had been an interesting change from her daily routine. Angela had proven to be pretty helpful – maybe the funky artist could be a real asset to her team. Having another woman around could be nice, Brennan mused.
Methodically as always, she lathered her body with a scented soap bar before turning her attention to her long, mahogany-colored hair.
'Bones.'
What an annoying nickname. If she decided to continue her partnership with this agent, he would have to drop that. A little voice inside of her remarked that this was easier said than done, and one more time Brennan had to wonder. She wasn't used to voices inside of her head, and most of all she wasn't familiar with so-called gut feelings.
Feelings were other people's stuff – hers were bones and facts.
As soon as the remaining lather had rinsed down the drain, Brennan turned off the shower and grabbed a soft terrycloth towel to wrap it around her body. She was out and out warm now, and when she dried herself, she rubbed a little harder than usually until her skin was tingling.
'Bones.'
No, that was really unacceptable. She was a human being, a whole woman, and even though she consisted of 206 bones, she refused to be reduced to a single one of it.
When she was comfortably dry, her hair back in a high ponytail, she slipped into a huge cozy nightgown and padded into her bedroom. The earlier dizziness of the Tequila had subsided, but to work against potential dehydration, she placed a bottle of water on her nightstand before she slid under the satiny covers.
Lolling in her bed, Brennan savored the silence of her apartment. She loved her job, loved science, but she was woman enough to enjoy the fringe benefits of her success as well. At the age of twenty-nine, Brennan was independent and wealthy enough to allow herself the luxury of a spacy home and expensive sheets, and she didn't feel bad about it. After all, it hadn't always been like this, and she had worked hard for it.
Closing her eyes, she tried to put her brain in neutral, to surrender herself to sleep, but with her brain quiet, something else inside of her began to speak, and suddenly the feeling of that kiss in the rain came back with full force.
Soft lips. Strong arms. Warm mouth. Intoxicating scent.
Groaning in disapproval, the woman rolled around in her bed until she rested on her stomach. This had been a mistake, though, because now a pillow was lying underneath her, adding tempting pressure to her midsection, right there where her body was already vibrating.
With a sigh of defeat, she finally gave in – after all, this was perfectly normal as well, and she had no intention to torture herself.
Deft fingers made their way under the wide gown, and her legs widened a few inches. The tip of her finger slid inside easily, and Brennan gasped as she found out how wet she was. It was impossible to feel such a strong physical response after one kiss, but evidence betrayed her logic. Her body was aching, and even though she was an expert in pleasuring herself, this what not what she truly craved for tonight, and she knew it.
When the waves finally started to crash, when the tension inside of her gathered in one spot right before it exploded, one face was on her mind, and she came around her own fingers with smirking brown eyes watching her. Oddly enough, this picture turned her on even more.
Panting heavily, she waited for the final tinglings to subside and for satiation to make her sleepy, but together with the expected feeling came an uninvited one, and it reminded somehow of cheating.
And with his face on her mind, she fell asleep.
-BONES-
Seeley Booth rubbed his aching head with his flat palm, as the cab disappeared in the rain. This had not ended as expected, whatever his expectation had been. Casting the bar behind him a longing glance, he finally turned in the opposite direction to walk home. He had already more than enough alcohol in his system, and the unpleasant feeling that he had gambled enough for one night gnawed at his insides.
Who was this woman?
Booth was used to working solo, he was one of the FBI cowboys. No need for a partner to tag along. However, he had to admit that he had enjoyed the company of the smart scientist lady. She was... something else. One of a kind.
Beautiful, beyond a doubt, but that kind of beauty that could easily burn and swallow you if you get too close to it.
Hell, she could kiss. For someone so clever she knew perfectly well to make use of her womanly traits. And she smelled like heaven.
Shaking his head, the agent tried to clear his foggy mind somehow. He had fired her, she had fled him, and chances were that he would never see her again.
He didn't know why he had named her 'Bones', she didn't look like bones at all. Anyway, if the way she had kissed him was any indicator, 'Temperance' didn't fit either.
Why did he think about her name at all?
She wasn't even his type, he was a gentleman who preferred blondes. She was way too cool, too clever, too unpredictable, too feisty. But her eyes... those big baby blues... they had that spark. And when she smiled, something in the room around her lit up.
Undoubtedly she had been an asset to this investigation. Her team had provided him with highly valuable information. Booth had no idea how they could have figured out that much by... squinting at the remains, but they had drawn profound conclusions. Plus, the way she had punched that arrogant ass of a judge? A field day. She had fire.
Suddenly he wished very much that she wouldn't have taken that damned cab. At least not alone. He had no clue what to do with a woman like Temperance Brennan after the passion would have cooled down, but he had some pretty good ideas for the time in between.
Not to dampen his mood, Booth started to whistle, and when he reached the liquor store on the first floor of his building, he purchased a sixpack to wind down.
It had only been a kiss. Granted, a kiss that could have been going somewhere, but apparently they hadn't been on the same page. Would he see her again? Get a chance to become really acquainted with her? Did she have a lot of friends? Was she funny in private?
So many questions, and so far he only knew one thing: That she had tasted like the rain itself.
Plopping on his couch, Booth opened the first beer and took a healthy gulp. For a split second he had been able to feel the soft curve of her breasts pressed against his chest. Swallowing hard, he shifted on the couch in an attempt to calm his stirring arousal.
Her lips had been so smooth and pink, the line of her jaw so elegant when she had tilted her head to look up at him.
He groaned. That did so not help. Yes, she was beautiful and sexy, but she was not available, so fantasizing about her was inappropriate. She wasn't November girl or something like that, she was a real woman, one that could kick his ass. One that deserved his respect because she was... well... she was something.
Usually Booth was very adept in reading people, but this anthropologist was hard to figure out. She seemed to be an easy-going person with her beaming smile, the bobbing ponytail and her cute nose, but something told him that there were unforeseen dark depths inside of her. Underneath her perfect curvy body... and his arousal was back with vigor.
'No way,' he decided, he would not masturbate with Temperance Brennan on his mind.
Emptying his bottle, Booth decided against killing the whole sixpack and opted for a shower instead. As cold as possible.
To be continued...
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