I Love You More
More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse.
-- Doug Larson
Author's Note: Angst with future fluff, M-rated with sex, what else could you want? This is going to be a two-part story. I was feeling inspired. First-person Tempe POV, complete with an established BB relationship. Enjoy, and review!
When I came home from the lab, his bags were packed. A miniscule part of me was surprised, although I was expecting it and had been for some time. He was leaving me.
I kicked off my shoes and tossed my keys on the table. I dropped my bag to the floor by my feet and when I turned toward the living room, I saw him. Booth was sitting on the couch, his back to me, and the tenseness of his shoulders made me nervous.
"Hi," I said cautiously.
He rose and moved to my side, pecking me on the lips as he had every day for the three years we'd been married. I tilted my head to receive his kiss and steadied myself by placing a hand lightly on his chest.
"You're home early," he commented.
"Yeah, well…" I trailed off and shrugged my shoulders.
"I'm glad," was all he said in reply.
He returned to the couch and I followed as if I actually believed he wanted me to. We sat in silence, the kind of silence that wasn't quite uncomfortable.
"What time does your flight leave in the morning?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Seven forty-five," he said.
He leaned back and draped his arm across the top of the couch. I fell against him and nestled my face into the crook of his shoulder, willing the tears not to come.
"Bones…" he ran a hand over my hair. "I love you, you know."
"I know. I love you more," I responded, naturally compelled to competition.
"We talked about this, remember?" I nodded and Booth continued. "It's only for a little while, and then I'll be back. We can work things out."
Last night, following the most monumental fight of ours to-date, we had agreed that a break from this, from us, would be the most logical solution. I guess it was inevitable.
Our relationship had been bordering on the brink of danger for the past year. I had my anthropology work, Booth had his government obligations, and somewhere between the constant bickering and emotionally trying cases, something had snapped. When we weren't working in the field together, one or the other of us was too tired, busy, annoyed, or distracted to put any remaining passion into our relationship. I loved him, and I know he loved me, but as the spark of new lovers faded, nothing fell into place behind it.
Oh, it wasn't all bad, of course not. For our one year anniversary, we celebrated by having sex in every room of the house, in one day, and I still couldn't cook on the kitchen counter without blushing. While brilliant in theory, sex in the shower proved more disappointing than satisfying. I had nearly ended up in the hospital with a concussion after I slipped and thumped my head against the wall. Booth made it up to me with a dazzling diamond ring and a breathtaking marriage proposal.
I raised my left hand to rest on Booth's chest and I could feel his heartbeat. I stared, watching my hand rise and fall as he breathed. A band of flesh on my fourth finger, lighter than the rest of my skin, glared back at me. My wedding ring was in the jewelry box on my dresser. Suddenly disappointed with myself and angry for no apparent reason, I stood up, shaking his arms from around me, and curled my hands into fists.
"Booth, we're married," I stated vehemently.
"I know Bones, I was there," he sensed an oncoming fight and shifted away from me.
"You can't just give up on us!" I ignored his comment.
"I'm not giving up on us," Booth stated calmly. "It's a break, Bones. I still love you and I still want to be your husband, but I need time to clear my head. I'll be back in three weeks and there isn't a doubt in my mind that we'll fix this," he was so unruffled and sure of himself that I couldn't help but believe him.
"I'm sorry," I said without really knowing what I was apologizing for.
"Me too," he answered as he stood from the couch and wrapped me in a warm hug.
His hands stroked my back, down my sides, and slid into the back pockets of my jeans. I held him tightly, my arms over his shoulders, and my fingers slipped through his hair. We stared at each other and it seemed as if I was seeing him for the first time. He was so handsome and strong, and he had promised to be mine, for better or for worse. Did he know how much I loved him? How much I would continue to love him for the rest of my life, no matter what happened when he returned in three weeks?
Seized with an unrecognizable desperation, I linked my fingers together behind his head and pulled his mouth down to mine. My lips pressed against his, probably harder than necessary, but I couldn't control myself. After a brief and terrifying moment when I thought he might push me away, he yielded beneath my touch and opened his mouth to receive my kiss. I sighed into his mouth, our tongues moving together in a sensual salsa.
Booth pulled me flush against him, wrapping my body in an embrace so tight that it was difficult to breathe. His hands pushed up under my shirt and splayed across my back, fingertips dancing over the ridges of my spine. I reluctantly broke the kiss and released a breathy sigh which barely sounded like his name. His lips latched onto my neck, teasing and marking, before he yanked my shirt over my head and unclasped my bra in one fluid motion. My jeans and panties were the next to go, and I was standing naked in front of him for the first time in months. He looked at me with those eyes, emotion swirling within their depths, and I was so overcome with love that I felt like crying. How did we let it come to this?
I reached for him and pressed my front against his, the metal of his belt buckle chilly against my bare skin. He kissed me, soft and slow, languidly exploring my mouth with his tongue. His hands gently kneaded my breasts and passed over my hardened nipples, teasing them into points. Our kiss tapered off and he ceased his torturous touching as he stepped away and let his gaze wander over me again.
"Bones, you're so beautiful," he choked out. "I should have told you that more often."
I didn't know what to say. In response, I smiled at him through the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I moved close to him and curled my fingers beneath his t-shirt, tugging it from his body and tossing it next to my abandoned clothing. His chest was broad and smooth before me, and all I wanted to do was touch him forever. I rested my hands over his collarbones and slid them inwards and down to toy with his flat nipples. He exhaled shakily and his breath stirred the hair around my face.
I fumbled with his belt buckle, my hands shaky and moist. He kissed the top of my shoulder and ran his fingers down my stomach, inching dangerously close to the place where I wanted to be touched the most. I managed to discard his jeans and boxers before becoming perilously distracted. He was naked and aroused, and I had never loved him more than at that moment. I kissed his chest, right over his heart, and peppered soft kisses down his torso. Lower, lower, lower.
"Mmmm, Bones," he gasped as his fingers twined through my hair.
He heaved me upwards and kissed me soundly. By their own accord, our bodies began the trek to the bedroom. Groping hands, tangled limbs, and bruising kisses accompanied us, the sense of desperation rising. I fell onto the bed first, bringing Booth with me. He rolled to the side, leaving me prone on my back with a heaving chest and tingling senses. His lips were on my abdomen, hot and wet, while his fingers went to work elsewhere.
"Booth," I sighed. "God, Seeley… please," he always made me beg.
It seemed like years since he'd last touched me like this. My hands sought something to hold and clawed desperately at his biceps and up over his shoulders. Just before he would have sent me over the edge, he stopped his ministrations. I was sweaty and breathless, but I reached out to him blindly.
When we moved together, everything was perfect. There were no marriage troubles, no horrible fights, no silent tears cried alone at night. There was just him and me. I felt whole, like the part of my heart that had been noiselessly breaking these past months was in one piece again. Here was my entire world, wrapped inside my arms.
"Tempe…" Booth whimpered my name like a mantra.
He only called me Tempe in the midst of passion, so I knew he was close. I opened myself to him, completely, and I felt the spasms starting in the tips of my toes. I groped for his hands and entwined my fingers with his, my thumb nail pressing a crescent moon contour into his palm. His head dropped to my shoulder and my ankles crossed behind his back as I tried to pull him deeper within me.
We came simultaneously, riding out the waves of release and clinging frantically to one another. The words of fervor we uttered were trivial, yet I still felt the urge to whisper 'I love you' over and over into his ear, as if saying it would make everything okay again.
His hand caressed my cheek, and a murmured 'I love you more' was the last thing I heard before I surrendered to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning he was gone, but I knew for sure that he'd come back.
Author's Note: My first M-rated piece! Now, now, don't be offended. We all secretly love it. Whaddya think? Should I continue?