This is my first B+B fanfic, be gentle with me. Tell me, honestly, what you think.
After seeing photos of Emily from last [years]'s Golden Globes, that was all I could think of at work today. This story is Bones in the same outfit, at the launch party for her new book. Primarily this is in Booths POV. I plan on two more chapters, The Ride, and The After Party.
I don't fully understand the ratings here yet. This chapter isn't quite M, but the next two plan to be much more so!
The Party
He watched intently as she moved around the room. She was perfect. Bones said she didn't like these events, but she always handled herself brilliantly, with dexterity and poise. Talking with everybody for just long enough, never favouring one guest over another, never leaving them bored. Not that anyone could ever be bored by his Bones.
And she looked … wow … Booth couldn't believe how good she looked. Just a few hours ago she'd been knee-deep in muddy corpses, and now she was at her book party in a red satin dress that hung in just the right places. Cut wide at the neck, Booth shuddered to think of the skin he saw. He longed to take her home and plant a trail of kisses along her collarbones and up her slender neck, tracing out her distinctive jaw line with his mouth. At the back, the dress revealed her perfect ivory skin, its apparent softness bringing more longing for Booth, the line of her vertebrae disappearing in to the unknown. He could see the thin strap of her skin-colored bra hidden beneath. His fingers tingled as Booth thought of slowly peeling the bra away and unveiling their contents.
The dress was neither long nor short, stopping just above the knee: so modest and yet, on his Bones, it seemed the most erotic thing in his world. A high belt accentuated her already ample breasts and directed his eye line to her ass. The breasts he constantly found himself drawn to. He longed to take them in his mouth, to uncover her taste that had eluded him for far too long. That tight little ass he'd thought so many times of being able to nibble at. So often at crime scenes she'd bend over and Booth found himself dreaming of taking her right there and then.
So infrequently he saw Bones in heels, and yet she moved like a pro, virtually floating around the room as Booth watched. The heels brought out her well-defined calves, the pale hue of her skin contrasting the redness of her shoes. Booth never failed to be amazed by the flawless nature of her matte skin. In his mind he was running his hand up her leg, getting closer to the treasure that had remained hidden from him for so many years. The things he'd been longing to do to her for five long years …
Bones had objected when Angela came into her office, insisting that she be allowed to do Brennan's hair for the night, but Booth was glad she had relented. From the front, her mousy brown hair seemed unimposing and subtle, but when she turned a much more elaborate up-do became apparent. Lovely as it was, Booth wanted nothing more than to pull away the few pins holding it in place and free her curls to tumble down her back. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd wanted to run his fingers through her hair. He knew it would be silky soft, and always (always!) smelled fantastic.
He'd reasoned before about her being his partner, the things they spoke about, the way they interacted, essentially making her a guy-friend. But tonight … there was no question that tonight she was a woman.
Booth sat alone at his table, watching from a distance, not wanting to steal any of her thunder. This evening was for her, to honour her, and the release of what would surely become another Times bestseller. He was there as her partner, and nothing more. But just for a moment, when they'd walked in together, it felt like a date. He had reminded himself several times already that it wasn't. At the end of the evening he'd drop her home, and nothing more. Maybe a quick congratulations-and-good-night kiss on the cheek, and nothing more. Maybe he'd rest his hand on her thigh while he did it. No, Booth.
Taking a sip of his drink, Booth breathed heavily. He knew it wasn't right, wasn't healthy. He shouldn't be feeling this way about his partner. But he couldn't help it. He could hear her voice drift across the room, heard her politely chuckle every so often. That chuckle that made the hairs on his arm stand on end.
And his hairs weren't the only part of him standing to attention. Booth became very appreciative of the table he sat at, hiding his response to his phenomenal partner from the room. There was only so much power the Saints held, and tonight it hadn't been enough. She'd caught his eye as she moved between guests, shooting him with that cheeky grin that he loved. The Saints crumbled beneath him and nature took over. He had to distract himself.
Booth began looking around the room, looking at anything other than Bones. He noted the buffet table, the place settlings, the people beginning to leave as the night drew to a close, the fancy plasterwork atop the columns all around the room, faint markings where repair work had been done. The building was old, he guess, Bones would know how old, he was sure. Whatever he thought of, his mind always tracked back to Bones.
"I'm an anthropologist, Booth." The voice cut through his mental admonition of himself. She had approached while his thoughts drifted.
"Wha...?" He stuttered, unable to construct more even if he had understood.
"An anthropologist, Booth. I know the stages of everything. And you, are deep in arousal." She said it so matter-of-factly that Booth barely knew whether to argue or concede to her being right, she usually was anyway.
"Bones? Wha … I … er … What?"
"I've been watching you," she told him, in a tone that was just a little too smug for comfort. "You pupils keep dilating, your cheeks are flushed, you seem out of breath for no apparent reason."
Booth sat with his mouth open. The things this woman came out with, it never failed to shock him. Maybe he was a prude, or maybe she was an exhibitionist. Either way, he was sure they shouldn't be having this conversation here, even if the party was winding down.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Booth." Her eyes momentarily flicked to his groin, where his hands had, he hoped, subtly come to rest. This woman has such power over him. He felt like a schoolboy again, being talked down by matron. And yet, coming from her mouth, it only heightened his excitement. "A natural response for an adult male responding to stimuli."
A silence hug between them. He sure as hell wasn't going to break it, that'd be an admission, and he could see that she was still thinking anyway.
"I only wonder …"
Booth felt terror growing, what did she wonder?
"… who caused this reaction? There are clearly many beautiful women here, but I'm curious to know who in particular."
She turned to face back towards the room, leaning on the back of Booth's chair. Few people remained now. The band had stopped playing and waiters buzzed around being to clear the room.
Was she that clueless? There didn't seem a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and lately she'd been becoming far more socially adept.
"Bones," at last he found his voice. "You must know." He looked up at her and their eyes met, locked for a moment longer than he had intended. It did nothing to help his … situation.
Finally she sat on the chair beside him, resting her clutch purse on the table. She leaned forwards, elbows on the table, staring off into the room. Her knee hit his, and she allowed it to rest there.
"I don't know. But what I do know is, I'm tired and I'm ready to go home." She turned her head to him and smiled a Bones smile.
Booth wasn't sure whether this was a diversion tactic or not. Had she started a conversation she knew the answer to but wasn't ready to finish? He could see her eyes were tired and he watched as she breathed deeply. He longed to scoop her up in his arms, carry her to bed, and watch her sleep till morning came. Of all the dirty and sinful things he wanted to do with his partner, simply watching her sleep ranked high on the list.
He smiled back and placed a hand on the small of her back. He always put his hand there; it seemed to fit like a mold cast for one another. But in this moment, with Bones in that damn red dress, the evening regained it's Date feeling, just for a second.
"Then lets go home."
He hadn't meant it as it sounded. He'd spent all evening longing after his partner. To investigate her and unfurl secrets he had yet to unravel. But even in the height of it, he held on to some semblance of reality. It wouldn't happen tonight. Hell, it'd probably never happen. He was doomed to spend another night sleeping alone after taking another cold shower.
"Yes." Her eyes twinkled. He knew she was tired, but maybe she understood him, just a little bit, after all. "Please take me home."
Thoughts, suggestions, critisims, please.
