Title: Saturday Afternoon (Sequel to Saturday )

Title: Saturday Afternoon (Sequel to Saturday )
Author:
Crearealidad
Rating: T/PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: none here
Summary: Booth stops by to invite her out for a Lucy, but they never make it out.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, nor does the diner, or any other recognizable stories or back plot. I don't know the people who make Bones and they don't know me. No copyright infringement is intended with this piece.

Author's Note: I know this is a few days later than anticipated. I've been kinda out of it with a touch of the flu. But all is well and I've got a four updates that will be ready by Saturdayish, pending no major beta-battles. Thank you to Becca, one more fanfic virgin I've brought into my little game.

"The Lucy": A spicy cocoa drink sold at ACKC's that contains chocolate, chipotle spices and cinnamon. It sounds weird. Then you try it. Hot, kinky sex in a mug.

"I wasn't expecting you for another two hours."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of him when he arrived exceptionally early for what should have been dinner. It wasn't even four yet and there he was in the doorway, still wearing the same clothes he'd had on earlier, his breath still tinged with the aroma of coffee. For some reason, I'd expected him polished, slightly more smooth than charm.

But as I stepped aside to allow him to enter, he turned around, passing me, to walk backwards as he explained, "Have you ever been to ACKC's?"

"What are you talking about Booth?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at his mischievous grin. His backwards entrance came to halt a few yards into my living room and I closed the door, turning the lock.

"Surely you like chocolate, right?"

I moved past him, resuming the position I'd been in before he'd interrupted me. I'd been attempting to concentrate on an article in my latest anthropological journal. The article was discussing new techniques for analyzing the mineral content of bone in order to determine an individual's origin. I'd been meaning to read it all week, but work had kept me more than adequately occupied. I quickly found, however, that it couldn't hold my interest for more than a few moments. I was far too distracted.

I blame it all on my dream.

It's rare that I awaken with any conscious memory of the activity that occurred in my brain during my unconscious hours, but this morning I'd risen early and with a distinct memory of touch. Heat had blossomed across my skin with surprising alacrity as it recalled the imagined press of strong fingers arching as they dragged furrows down the flesh of my back. Before I had even caught my breath, I found myself dialing his number, desperate to dispel the passionate touch with the infuriating reality of him before dawn.

But the voice which greeted me had been inches the graveled murmurs that had accompanied his nocturnal ministrations and only served to encourage the replay to continue in more vivid sensory details. When he'd pushed to find out why I had called, I found myself inviting him to join me for my usual Saturday morning ritual, unable to come up with anything more plausible at such an early hour while under a barrage of distractions.

"Booth why are you here?"

"I missed you," he teased, his hand on my shoulder rocking me gently. "And Angela called... She was trying to locate you, said you were answering your phone. I thought the two of you had plans?"

"If I had told you that I was anxious to get some reading done you would have tried to drag me out to some place and unnecessarily reminded me that it was the weekend." I retorted, trying to ignore his arm, which he had draped casually across the back of the couch just barely brushing my shoulders.

"You told a fib? Bones! If I weren't so hurt by your obvious aversion to spending time with me outside of work and coffee, I'd almost be impressed," he said, chuckling softly as turned his face to look at me, his eyes narrowing as though he were trying to read my features. With a heavy sigh, he reclined deeper into the seat and continued, "You always surprise me. Never a dull moment."

His hand bent to cup my shoulder and immediately I could feel those fingers as they'd been on my bare flesh; hot, insistent, patient. Gently, I squirmed from his grasp and adjusted my journal in my lap, smoothing the pages to signal that I was fully prepare to continue my reading.

"Hey, I came over to force you out of the house... Put that thing away..." he whined, snatching the pages from my lap and tossing them lightly to the floor.

"Booth! I was reading that." With a grunt, I leaned forward, feeling his eyes on me as I move. They've zeroed in on my lower back and I shoot him a glare. He's oblivious.

"Stop staring," I snapped, exasperated. His gaze already feeling like fingers kneading and skin was trembling beneath them.

This game made me recall how he'd tricked me earlier into feeding him pie. He was always cajoling me into his childish games, much like the one he was playing with the journal, but the one this morning had been entirely different. He'd handed me that fork with intentions painted in that knowing grin. Once he'd figured out how I reacted to watching his mouth as he ate pie, the battle was on. With each movement he'd teased me, licking his lips and smiling with every inch of his oh-so-pleased expression.

He was surprised maybe even a bit frightened when I'd given in to the desire to feel that mouth on my skin. I'd lifted my fingers to his lips with that soft, sugar-coated slice of apple pinched in my fingertips and waited. It took a moment, but eventually he realized that I was quite serious, and those tempting lips had sucked tightly around the apple and my fingers, deliciously sending bolts of excitement through me as his tongue slipped over me. I was shaking and it was nearly impossible to keep myself seated when all I wanted to do was run. In those brief moments, the entire dream had come crashing down on me and I could feel his fingers driving over my skin, seeking out all of the places they'd never touched before. It wasn't until the waitress appeared that I realized that my own hand had ended up on his thigh, so close to the heat of his erection that I could practically feel it hardening.

I'm fighting that same impulse now, wanting to run as I feel his gaze work its way back up to my face, but not before they got snagged on my breasts. My body was begging him to replace that gaze with touch and before I could stop myself, I asked, "Why do you look at me that way?"

I resettled my journal on my lap, pretending to read in order to avoid his gaze.

"I don't look at you any certain way. And I most certainly wasn't staring."

Looking up at him now I saw the blush catching his cheeks. "Yes, you were. And if I'm not mistaken, that look was directed at my ass," I retorted matter-of-factly.

"Awww… C'mon Bones. I'm a guy. We look. A beautiful woman bends over… It's just what we do. And I was serious about this…" He grabbed the journal once more, flipping it closed to read the title. "Durham Anthropology Journal. You know, Bones, when a man offers a woman chocolate, normal women accept. They don't try to go back to their scholarly reading."

I leaned towards him, trying to grab the journal back from him, but when he jerks his hand out away from me, I clumsily landed a hand on his thigh once again, eliciting a rough sound from his throat. Immediately, I drew my hand back and crossed my arms, pointing out, "You didn't offer chocolate, Booth. You merely asked if I enjoyed it."

He covered with his face with his hand, dragging it down slowly to bring it to the base of his neck, letting it hang there for a long moment before dropping it onto his thigh. "You know, I went to the lab first?"

"Huh?"

"When Angela said she couldn't get a hold of you, I assumed you'd be at the lab. And I was actually really worried when I didn't find you there."

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't live at the lab, Booth." I replied softly,

"I know. I'm learning. But you seemed… upset earlier. Usually when you're trying to get through something, you end up at work. It helps you get a better look at the situation," he told me, reaching out to take my hand. I looked up but found that his head was slightly bowed and he was watching the quiet interlocking of our hands.

"I thought about it you know. Going to the lab... You know me too well, Booth." He let out a huff of breath that sounded like a silent laugh. "Am I really that easy to figure out?."

We sat in silence for a few long minutes while he considered my question, still not releasing my hand. He finally looked up to find me watching him and I can feel the blush spreading across my cheeks when it makes him smile to see me there. "Never. You're never easy." His voice was harsh against my ears, sadder than anticipated and made my chest constrict unexpectedly.

"But you're always finding me, Booth. Even when I don't know why I'm doing something, you have an enviable ability to predict my behavior."

"Lots of trial and error, Bones. Trust me. Unless it's a case. Then I just need to figure out where you'd get in the most trouble…"

At that I laughed, my head coming to rest against his shoulder and he brought the journal back to my lap. "Thank you," I said softly without lifting my head from its rest. He laughed and I realized he thought that I mean the journal. Picking it up, I toss it onto the coffee table. "Not for this, though I am glad you gave it up."

"Then for what?" He asked, drawing my eyes to his to find he was serious.

Shaking my head, I explained, "For always finding me. For knowing what to say. I know I don't always… say certain things correctly. I'm not really good at this you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"Booth!" I cried in mock annoyance. His arm swooped around my hip to hold me in place. "Am I really that bad at connecting?" My words seemed to topple out in response to his touch and I immediately stiffened, having not intended to allow those thoughts a voice. But his forearm was pressed against my back and his fingers were igniting my skin with memories of our imagined intimacy.

"You connect just fine with me…" he replied, his free hand coming to my cheek to turn my face upwards. I could feel him reading them as I struggled not to look away, for fear of what might be showing. "The words may get confused, but your intent isn't lost, Bones. The people who care about you, me and the squints… We get that."

His eyes found my lips then and they parted unwittingly for him. The hand on my cheek found its way to the back of my neck, teasing the small hairs there. For a moment, I feared I had allowed the dream to manifest itself as those fingers began to kneed the tense muscles at the base of my neck. I could feel the heat from his body warming me from where my knee touched his up to my lips where his eyes were still making a decision.

My eyes fell to his lips when his tongue emerged to wet them. He swallowed roughly and murmured, "Bones, I…"

But his thoughts were destroyed when his phone went off in his pocket between us, sending us into motion like a fire alarm. I leapt to my feet and he jerked himself to the side in order to dig the phone from his pocket.

"Seeley Booth," he answered, his breath catching as he ducked his head to speak.

Stepping back, I gasped for air as I turned away from him to hide the blush that stained my face. My body was heavy and hot with my arousal as I listened to him.

"Yeah, I found her… Durham Anthropology Journal… I'm trying to convince her… Yeah, thanks Angela. I'll try to remember that… All right, have fun." Hanging up his phone then, I heard him stand, then he came towards me.

"You okay, Bones? You look a little…" he teased.

"The phone just started me," I explained weakly, moving towards the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink? I need some water," I asked, hoping he would remain in the living room. I needed space to cool down.

I felt as though I might catch fire if I didn't get this under control. The dream was fast becoming entangled with his actual touch and I wasn't prepared for the implications of that. The want was catching in my throat as I reached up to pull down a glass from the cupboard and then pressed it against the button on the ice dispenser. With a clatter, the glass filled with ice and I pulled it away and moved to fill the glass with water at the sink, but paused before turning on the tap.

Impulsively, I reached into the glass and withdrew an ice cube and brought it to my heated cheek. It began to melt immediately, dripping cool relief down my face. Gliding it over my face, I lingered on my lips, the cold soothing excitement that had risen there. Next I trailed it down to my throat, tilting my head back to bring it to where my pulse was racing the beneath the skin. Unbidden, I was overwhelmed by the sudden sensation of his lips sucking the melted drips from my skin as a shuddering moan escaped my still wet lips.

Suddenly the ice wasn't enough. I could hear him echoing my own mind as he kissed my throat.

My eyes fell shut as I imagined his lips sucking their way down my throat, nudging their way down the neckline of my t-shirt before coming back up to nibble at the skin just below my ear, soft suckling sounds mixed with contented moans.

But then came the sound of my name, dragged from his throat with a very real presence. I realized suddenly that his answering moans hadn't been imagined or remembered. My head snapped up and my eyes flew open to find him standing at the entrance to my kitchen, his eyes wide on his shocked, flushed face.

His hands were clenched down at his sides and he was shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, his eyes still fixed on the spot where the ice was melting against my throat. When I moved towards him, it broke his trance and I saw him shake and swallow roughly. Tossing the nearly melted ice cube into the sink, I withdrew another with shaking fingers, feeling a decidedly devilish impulse wash over me at the knowledge of his obvious mirroring of my own arousal.

He was as flushed and shaking and once I was within inches of his body I could feel all that heat radiating from him.

Lifting the newly acquired ice cube to his lips, I painted a wet line over them, then along his cheek bones and down his jaw. I could feel his eyes riveted on me, desperately hungry and begging for more. He quivered as I brought the ice to his throat, imagining that my lips were there, tasting the raw heat of his skin. When I brought the ice cube back to his lips, they parted beneath my touch, sucking around the small block and the tips of my fingers. I shivered as his tongue moved to lap at the liquid as it dripped over my fingers and I found that already the softness of his mouth felt familiar even as it sent waves of excitement flowing throughout my body.

As his mouth grew bolder, he sucked the ice cube into his mouth and drew my fingers in deeper, sweeping his tongue over my finger as I stood there, breathless and afraid to move for fear the pleasure would come to an end. I tried to remember how it had become this, how his flirtatious games had evolved to the point that I was flushed with arousal as he sucked ardently on my fingers in my kitchen.

When finally he released my finger with a resounding 'pop,' I felt his hand taking the cup of ice from my hand as his other hand came to my shoulder, pushing me back hard against the wall and brought his body flush with mine. I gasped for breath as he took out an ice cube and set the glass on the counter. I could feel his excitement, hard and hot pressing into my hips insistently as his fingers brought the ice cube to my forehead first, then dragged it down the middle of my nose and brought the ice to my lips, teasing there for only a few moments before he trailed the ice down my chin edging over my throat so slowly that I was quivering by the time it hit the collar of my shirt.

His free hand came up to cup my face then, tilting my eyes up towards him as he brought the ice around to the base of my neck, sliding down over my spin, leaving a trail of wet on my t-shirt. My back arched with I felt his fingers sliding their way under my t-shirt . His breath was burning hot of my mouth and I struggled to meet his eyes as the ice made contact with the skin of my lower back. "Booth, I…." was all that managed to escape my lips as the cool wet trail raced along the muscles of my back, sending my hips crashing expectantly against his.

The hand on my cheek moved to bring his thumb to my lips, gently teasing until my mouth allowed him entrance, spreading only enough to allow him to feel the wetness there. His thumb rolled over my lip several times before I puckered my lips around it, sucking it in gently until I heard him moaning in response.

Suddenly, the ice dropped from his fingers and I felt it slip down the back of my pants. The surprise of the icy cold on my ass made me leap upright, breaking his hold on me for a moment, but his hands came back in a moment bringing with them his lips. He kissed my forehead first, roughly whispering, "Bones," as he lingered there, as I drank in the heady scent of his spicy cologne.

Then his face lowered, until our eyes and our lips were aligned and I could feel him devouring every detail of my face. His warm breath, smelling of coffee and breakfast and sweetness, was rolling over my skin, immersing me in his scent and I felt the words slip from my mouth before I even knew what they were. "Is this because of the pie?"

The low laugh that rumbled from his throat surprised me and sent my heart racing in my chest. He brought his face to the side of mine, wrapping me in his arms as he whispered into my neck, "Of course it's because of the pie."

His lips found my neck then, sucking gently for a long moment before moving upwards, seemingly realizing that he hadn't quite succeeded in what he'd been about to do before my impertinent comment. In a single breath, his lips skimmed over my chin and cheeks to my lips capturing them as his hand raked lines of pleasure down my back. My hands came around him then, finding the muscles of his back and shoulders, tugging him more tightly against me. I felt his thigh wedge between my own, pressing up against my hot center and nearly lifting me from the ground as his tongue found mine, not a trace of the cold from the ice to be found.

Finally, I dragged my lips from his, looking up into his dark brown eyes as I struggled to catch my breath and tried to still my hands. "Booth, I don't know… if I'm…" The words wouldn't come to me and as his eyes searched my face, I knew he couldn't speak either.

Our bodies were literally humming together and the intensity of it was far greater than this morning overwhelming dream and we were both still fully clothed. I let my eyes fall shut, my head falling back against the wall as I took a deep breath, fighting desperately for my composure.

"Bones… I don't know what came over me," he lied, his voice cracking and hoarse.

"I do."

His eyebrows raised and he looked at me expectantly, every inch of his body still pressing to mine. Carefully, I rolled my hips against where his thigh was still pressed against my heated center, and he bit down on his lip, too late to restrain his moan. I laughed softly and brought a hand to his face. "You don't still want to go out of that chocolate you were talking about earlier, do you?"

"The Lucy?" he squeaked as my hand trailed down his throat and over his chest.

"I have no idea what that means, but I'm really hoping you don't mind if we stay in for the evening…"

End Note: I know, I'm evil. But more is coming. One hint: She's not done teasing him…

Suggestions are welcome. Brennan really really wants to drive him crazy….