Hey, hey, hey! No, your eyes do not deceive you...it is another chappie of this hot little number. And you're in luck because pal sleeplessinatlanta has done her part and is posting or will post soon her own version of chapter two. If you recall, we're taking the same scenario (Booth or Brennan wants it so badly and the other offers to give it to him/her) and mirroring one another, because...let's face it. When it comes to B&B...well, they both want it bad and they both want to be the one to satisfy every single need the other has. Yeah, baby! So yeah, Hope you like chapter two. And be sure to comment on Sleepsie's too, and really show her the love. She posts about three times to my one, and I love her for it (even if I seethe with jealously!) haha.
-b&b-
I just wanted to let you know that I plan to mostly be at my apartment this weekend. So if you do end up needing help with what we were talking about earlier…I would be happy to assist.
Booth tapped his pen against the top of his desk in an irregular rhythm. At various times during the day, he'd found his mind wandering, and he'd forced himself to get back on task. But it had been a battle, and he thought he was going to lose his mind. It was impossible to forget Bones and her words. Her eyes. Her lips. Her…happy to assist…
"Damn it," he cursed and shifted in his seat. "Stop thinking about that conversation." Though conversation wasn't exactly the word for it. It was more like every single ounce of control he'd built over the past half-decade had been demolished in one instant when he'd blurted out that he'd needed her.
And of course, she'd offered him a solution.
Not just any solution, either…but her.
Her. She was the solution. Happy to assist…
Oh shit, but there was a part of him that knew accepting her would be insane. He was her partner. Bones. He couldn't just have sex with her. But…damn it…he needed it. He needed sex, and he needed her. That was the kicker. It wasn't that he was just desperate for it…it was all about her. Son of a bitch.
What really killed him was the way she, with just one question, completely unraveled him into confessing his deepest secrets. Why was he just so turned on by her? She was pretty, sure, but he'd known a lot of women in his time. He knew it was more than her looks; it was everything about her. Everything between them and everything that could be between them. The way she'd eye him as she touched him. The way her blue eyes would grow bright when she smiled at him in her knowing way. The way she'd run her hands all over him, desperate to know all there was to know about him. The way she'd feel all around him…all around him. The way her voice would sound when she moaned his name. And a million other things he was desperate to experience.
Of course, there was always the chance he'd misunderstood her. It wasn't completely impossible. After all, he didn't understand half of the words that came out of her mouth.
Bullshit, his libido reminded him, and Booth had to admit the truth. He knew exactly what she'd offered and what it meant. Not good.
With an annoyed shove, he pushed back from his desk, scanning the empty FBI building outside his office. He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly 8 PM. For some reason, this made him feel like a complete idiot. What other guy was still at work at 8 PM on a Friday night?
Just then, he spotted someone nearing the elevator, and he made his move.
"Sweets!" he called and jogged a little bit. "Sweets, Sweets, Sweets, old buddy, old pal," he slapped the younger man on the back.
Sweets turned toward him with a raised eyebrow, but Booth ignored that as he slapped the down button on the elevator.
"Hows about we grab a drink tonight, hmmm? You know," he shoved his hand into his pocket. "Some guy time or something."
Sweets looked around the office, wondering if there was a hidden camera somewhere. "A drink."
"Yeah," Booth nodded and rocked forward onto his toes once before taking a step into the open elevator. "You know, like last night."
Sweets entered the elevator. "A strip club again?"
"What?" Booth scoffed. "No." He spared the younger man a glance and hit the button for the lobby floor. "Just a drink. Founding Fathers will do."
Sweets eyed Booth and tried to get his mind to quit analyzing for once. He'd had such a good time the night before (minus the wicked raging headache in the morning) that he'd resolved to try to be cooler. Now seemed like his first opportunity.
"Sure," he rolled his shoulders back and pretended his voice hadn't cracked a bit. "A drink. Sounds awesome."
And neither man said a word as they walked out of the FBI building.
~~b&b~~
"So, um…" Sweets eyed Booth from the corner of his eyes. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Booth shrugged a single shoulder, tossing back the last inch of his second scotch. "Why do you ask?"
"Um," Sweets' eyes just about bugged out of his head, but he shook his head, quickly holding back the very real fact that Booth had asked him to have a drink.
"Why wouldn't everything be okay?" Booth asked and motioned with an index finger for another round. "You know…it's just a drink. That's all."
"Right, right," Sweets nodded. "Just a drink."
Booth paused just enough for Sweets to know that he knew exactly what he was building up to. Just never meant just to Booth. Or at least, almost never. "I'm glad to hear nothing's wrong," was all Sweets offered.
"Yeah, exactly." Booth nodded, swirling his drink around. He knew that Sweets was probably aware that at least something was going on. And he sort of wanted the kid's advice. Then again, he'd determined a long time ago that if he and his partner had ever gotten together…he'd never bring it up to Sweets ever. "It's just…I'm a man, and you know…a guy should have friends. And all of that. That's all."
"Right," Sweets' eyebrows rose slightly. "That's really normal. Nothing wrong with that."
"I mean, I'm a busy guy," Booth argued, relaxing against the back of his bar stool. "Shouldn't I just accept that? Some guys are just too busy for that kind of thing, and-"
"Oh, I um…" Sweets interrupted. "I don't think a guy can ever be too busy for…friendships." Sweets was starting to see that his initial idea might need more consideration. What he did know for certain was that this was important. "Take a famous athlete, for example."
"What in the hell does that have to do with anything?" Booth sneered, tossing back the rest of this drink."
Sweets cleared his throat and finished his drink. "The point is…" he ignored his earlier example. "If people say they are too busy, then they'll accept that they are. Most of the time…things work out."
"So, I'm guessing that you're not…that busy?" Booth smirked and Sweets shook his head, not interested in continuing the conversation. Another rousing success at guy's night out.
-b&b-
On Saturday night, Booth actually tried to stare at the book in his hands. He wasn't exactly sure WHY he'd thought this would keep his mind occupied, and with an annoyed groan, he tossed the book aside and rested his forearm over his forehead.
It was too early to actually go to bed, but he knew that going back to the bureau and attempting to do some work would be nothing but a waste of time. For just a second, he considered calling Sweets again, but quickly shot that down. No way in hell would Sweets not dig deeper. Shit, the kid probably had a1,000 theories already.
Booth kept replaying their conversation in his head, trying to figure out whether anything he'd said could lead Sweets to the fact that him 'not being too busy' really meant he desperately wanted to get busy, hot and heavy busy with his partner. It didn't seem likely, but with the way Sweets overanalyzed, it was hard to be sure.
Most of the time…things work out.
Except he couldn't stop feeling…feeling that it was his job to always make sure everything worked out. The only problem now was that the only thing he thought would work was his partner sliding over him, riding him hard, over and over again.
Damn it. He was getting hard, just thinking about it. Shrugging his shoulders back, he tossed on his running shoes and went for a run, hoping the long intense exercise would make him forget about everything for awhile.
But when he was done and back in his living room, his body was hot and flushed and adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he still felt ridiculously excited. She'd said she wanted to assist him, but he knew she wouldn't be passive. It would be hot as hell. Fucking A.
With a curse, he fisted his t-shirt up and over his head, shoving down his gym shorts and toeing off his shoes and socks as he made his way to his bathroom. Yanking the knob, the water hissed as it escaped his shower head and began to beat against the tile of his shower floor. He stepped in and pressed his face underneath the pounding spray, his body shivering slightly as the heat and the water pricked against his skin. Naked, the water slipped down his body, his muscles relaxing in the heat. With his eyes closed, one hand smoothed down his stomach until he was grasping his dick, and a low groan combined with the splash of water at his feet.
Booth grunted softly, his fist quickly pumping along his cock. His breathing quickened in tandem with his hot strokes, and he gritted his teeth against the impending orgasm. His mind immediately tried to superimpose an image that made him swear.
"Damn it," he cursed, not wanting to go there. He was going to do this on his OWN. Hell, a man could jack off without thinking of his partner, right? Frustrated, he pressed his hand to his shower wall and widened his stance, allowing his hips to piledrive into his hand.
The added pressure made his thrusts even more intense, making him groan. His back and thighs were aching with the need to just release, the water pounding against his spine, so warm…so wet. Like a soaking hot pussy…STOP!
His knees locked, as his entire body tensed to come and come hard. He was like steel, the tip of his cock dripping with pre cum, but he couldn't push himself over the edge. So close, but he needed more. He needed…her riding him, her breasts bouncing before his eyes with every forward motion, his tongue buried between her lips.
…
"Son of a bitch," the curse was grunted as he gave in. Perfect pleasure spread throughout him, fueled and fired by the thought of his partner collapsing against him as he fucked her from below, her thighs pressed so tightly to his. "Hot damn," he hissed as he leaned his forehead against his arm, propped on the shower wall. For a few seconds he stood there before shoving his hands through his hair, lathering shampoo and cleaning till his scalp almost ached. Then he yanked off the water, grabbing for a towel and walking naked to his bed, where he collapsed and tried to sleep.
-b&b-
On Sunday night, Booth's wrists felt heavy from pounding away at the weighted punching bag. Tired of pacing his apartment, he'd decided to at least get some exercise, hoping to work out his frustration. But all of his punching was clearing his mind, like it always did. He'd miscalculated, and now, the idea of Bones all around him was stronger than over. Working out like this had always provided an escape…a release. And he punched just a bit harder, pissed that it wasn't working to block out his partner and her…willingness to assist.
"Fucking fuck!" he spat out. What in the hell were they thinking? As if it could ever work. It was the ONE line they'd never crossed and after all this time, it seemed downright dangerous.
But so irresistible.
His eyes flickered to the old beat up clock on the gym wall. It was almost eleven. In his gut Booth knew that once the weekend ended, it would be the end of it. He knew enough of his own desire to know that if he just dealt with it one more night, once he saw her on Monday, it would be all good. They'd maybe share a look, just to prove they both knew it would be crazy to indulge…
They'd both know that she'd offered him sex. And that he'd turned it down.
Turned it down. For what? Another lonely night without her?
"That's fucking insane," With a pissed off growl, he yanked off his boxing gloves. "She offered. I'm gonna accept." His heartbeat sped up, despite the fact that he'd stopped working out, but he refused to recognize that fact.
Determination raced through his blood as he grabbed his hooded sweatshirt and keys and jogged out of the gym.
Sex. He needed it and she was willing to give it to him. And the truth was that he just didn't have enough willpower to turn it down.
Sex. They would both go into it with eyes wide open. No need to bring up their past or their past feelings. Just Sex.
He would be sure to remember that.
-b&b—
Twenty minutes till midnight…
Brennan glanced at the small clock in the bottom corner of her computer screen, and quite without her permission, her eyes flickered to her closed front door.
Foolish, she chided herself. He's not coming.
She frowned as she considered the possibility that he hadn't understood what she'd meant. She thought she'd been perfectly clear, but now…at…nearly midnight…well, she wasn't sure.
Of course, there was also the other possibility that he had understood her and wasn't interested.
Her throat felt tight, and she made her eyes focus on the article she was reading. There was no need to feel slighted by it.
That's not rational…being rejected by your partner does create uncomfortable feelings. Ignoring them is futile. The best course is to acknowledge, process and move on.
Doing precisely that, Brennan stood up and gathered her things. She'd spent most of the weekend considering and reconsidering her blatant invitation and it was clearly time to stop. It was likely for the best. After everything that they'd been through, what benefit would possibly come from having extensive intercourse with her partner?
Really, she should be grateful that his lack of acceptance meant they weren't going to 'go there' as Booth might say. Except…she wasn't. Not if she was honest with herself. Because the illogical but undeniable truth was that she was nearly desperate to have sex with Booth and had been since the day she'd met him.
THUMP. THUMP.
Brennan was so caught up in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize someone was knocking on her front door. But her body immediately softened, recognizing exactly what those two familiar knocks meant. It's me. I'm here.
The same knocks he always used, no matter what. Only two, as if she'd always been expecting him, and he was only knocking as a courtesy.
Well, now she certainly WAS expecting him, and so when she opened the door, she was surprised to see how angry he appeared.
"You know this is just between us, right?" Booth pretty much spat the words out, and Brennan blinked as she opened the door wider and allowed him to step inside.
"Come in, Booth," she spoke softly.
His eyes were nearly wild as he looked her up and down, and Brennan did her best to appear calm and casual. Her entire body was catching fire, and she wanted to jump on him, irrationally hug him and make him promise to hold her. And then his eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat as he realized he was actually standing with her. He'd driven over to her place in a flash, but now that he was HERE…well, "I um…" he cupped the back of his neck. "I just wanted to make sure it was all clear, and…"
Brennan leaned back against her closed door, unaware of the picture she was making. "Clear as crystal."
Her correct use of the phrase caught him even MORE off guard, and he nodded. "Right." His eyes studied her living room, as if he hadn't been there nearly 100 times before. Only now, he was imagining them having sex there. Hell, he'd imagined it before, but now he was actually there, and…focus.
"Okay," he spoke and then realized it was louder than necessary. He cleared his throat again. "Then yes, I would like to accept…your assistance." Fuck, he knew he was blushing, but…she was walking toward him.
"Just so there are no misunderstandings," she clarified. "You're here for sex, correct? You want it and you want me to provide it?"
"Yes, damn it," Booth snapped. Usually he liked having it all spelled out, but the way she was so calm and collected…it damn near pissed him off. Not to mention that her obvious confidence just highlighted how weak he was in resisting her. He'd lasted what…two days? Son of a bitch! "Let's just do this," he finally spat out.
One of her eyebrows lifted, "I would have assumed that like most males, you'd be more eager for sexual intercourse." Not that she had any reason to believe he wouldn't enjoy sex with her. But if there was one thing she wouldn't enjoy, it would be any awkwardness afterward. "We don't have to do this, Booth."
"You're taking it back." It was more a statement than a question, dry disbelief spreading throughout his tone.
"What? No," she frowned and forced herself not to move any closer to him. "Booth, you just don't seem so convinced, and if you just want to go home, I'll understand." He was looking at her as if he was about to say something to sooth the whole thing over and make it all go away. She tried to think. "Or we could just share a beer or something, and forget all about it."
"You don't want to do this," he accused with one index finger in her direction. "You're back pedaling, aren't you?"
Her forehead creased a bit. "There aren't any bikes in here, so…no. I don't know what…"
"It's just a saying," he bit out, frustrated that this wasn't going even at all smoothly. "I already said I'm in, so…"
"And I'm the one who brought it up in the first place," Brennan challenged, and then flushed at the memory.
"And the offer stands," she continued, calmly. "If you are interested, prove it." She was determined that she was going to be in charge in her own home. "Take off your clothing, Booth."
His jaw firmed, and she felt a thrill. For one moment, his eyes hardened, and then he nodded his head once, shoving off his sweatshirt and letting it fall to the floor. Without a word, he yanked off his shoes and socks. His pants were next, and then he was nearly naked, all muscled and tan in only a pair of dark gray boxer briefs. It wasn't anything different, except that it was Booth. Booth in his snug boxers with rippling stomach muscles and tense thighs. Because he wanted her to help him have incredible sex. Brennan didn't think anything could be sexier.
In two steps, she was in front of him, hands on his chest. She could see the rise and fall of his firm muscles and her own breathing quickened at the knowledge that the reality of him being deep inside of her would soon be possible. She slid one hand over his shoulder, skimming her fingers down his back before tracing the top edge of his boxers.
"Bones," his fingers cupped her elbows, his expression almost hesitant, and she realized he was worried about her, nervous about her inability to fully commit to this.
Slipping her hand beneath his boxers, she cupped his ass, enjoying the way he rocked backward into her touch. She slid her hand around his hip until she'd gently wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection. "Would you like an orgasm?"
His penis throbbed, once.
"Yes or no?" she asked, smoothing her hand up his length, just once, before settling at the base once again.
They both knew the answer, and his silence quickly annoyed her. "Answer me, Booth." Her voice was low and husky, but her words were conversational. She could engage and she would prove it to him. It was impossible not to be good at that after spending so much time with him over the years. If he wanted her, she would damn well give herself.
"Yes," he cursed, hips shoving into her hand.
She dropped to her knees and pulled his boxers with her, letting them pool against his long and sexy bare feet. When she stayed there and cupped him in both hands, giving him long sleek pulls, his balls tightened so quickly, she was amazed he didn't come immediately.
The first sound out of his mouth was a curse, and the second a pleasured groan. When his stance widened, she wrapped her mouth around the head of his cock and sucked, keeping her hands moving. His hands fisted in her hair, his fingers tangling in the strands.
He was so on the edge, it didn't take him very long. She sucked him deep, making sure to cup his balls for a second before she pulled back and used his own slickness to pump him so hard he thought she might burn him with the friction. His body shuddered, and he actually screamed when he came, making Brennan's eyes widen. It was strange, but erotic to see him lose control like that. For her. Because of her.
Brennan stood and noticed his eyes were open but unseeing. His chest heaved and he stared straight ahead, completely unfocused. His mouth was open, and she couldn't help but smile as she slipped her fingers against his stomach muscles as she moved to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder, feeling the satisfaction course through Booth's tall and firm body. He was so warm, still slightly shuddering.
"What do you want now, Booth?" she whispered, unable to keep her lips from slightly nipping at the spot where his neck met his shoulder. His hips swiveled back against hers, and she gasped at the raw power in him.
"Sex," he rasped out, the words tripping off his lips so easily after all these years. "You and me. All fucking night long."
"I'm prone to agree," she nodded, skimming her lips against his spine as her hands rubbed against his inner thighs. "All night long."
-b&b—
Hey, hey! SO we promise chapter three will be FULL of the sex, and nothing but the sex, so help us Booth.
And we also promise they won't take…***doing the math*** egads, six months to complete!
