The Fantasy in Reality

Disclaimer: The hit series "Bones" does not belong to me, unfortunately.

Rating: A bold, underlined, italicized M.

Pairing: Brennan/Booth (although only Brennan at the moment)

A/N: Please, if you spot even the tiniest imperfection in my story, let me know! I'm a real stickler for those kinds of things. Here's the next installment. I had planned for each new chapter to go up once every 4 days, but I might not adhere to that schedule strictly. And without further ado, let's get on to Brennan being naughty...

Temperance locked her bedroom door and proceeded to strip off all her clothes. Walking naked into the bathroom, she grabbed her bath robe and put it on, tying the sash around her waist. After washing her hands and her face, she went back into her bedroom. She opened the swinging door of her nightstand and reached in to remove the black plastic box that lay all the way in the back. Placing the box on the nightstand, she sat on the edge of the bed and opened the lid.

Inside, there was an assortment of sex toys. Dildos, vibrators, a string of beads—all collected over the years. She selected the most realistic phallus—the newest one—and set the box back inside the nightstand. This one she had ordered on impulse from an online sex shop. It was flesh-colored, with realistic glans and scrotum. It was fairly long, and by Temperance's estimation, probably a good approximation of Booth. She shivered in delight, stroking it lovingly.

Temperance climbed onto her bed, lying in the center. Laying the dildo to the side, she began to caress herself through the bathrobe, imagining Booth there with her, showing his appreciation. Her partner was always a gentleman, and she imagined that he would draw out their first time with slow, torturous foreplay. Booth would start by touching her all over her body, staying away from her breasts and genitals at first. The face, arms, shoulders, stomach would all be massaged. He would probably move down to her legs and feet too, but Temperance couldn't massage her own legs without having to sit up, which would make the fantasy slightly less believable.

She undid the sash on her robe, slowly pulling it apart. What would he be saying? Telling her she was beautiful, maybe. Whispering endearments. You're so beautiful, Bones. You're such a sexy woman. He'd definitely be kissing her. There was no imagination needed here. She had kissed him once or twice, and still remembered vividly the feel of his lips on hers. Temperance wanted Booth's weight on top of her, his chest pressed to her now-exposed breasts as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. It would be nice to be able to put her arms around him. Booth was a well muscled man, thanks to the FBI's policy of keeping their agents physically fit.

Temperance thought back to her interrupted masturbation session next to Booth on the couch. She doubted she would have let herself continue to orgasm. It would have been too risky. She couldn't orgasm silently, especially not if the man of her fantasies was right next to her, within smelling distance. Temperance's clit throbbed. God, I need to smell him again.

Booth wasn't here, obviously. But while she couldn't smell the man, there might be a shirt or jacket lying around with his scent…

Feeling aroused, excited, and a tiny bit nervous, she got to her feet, closing up the front of the bathrobe and re-tying the sash. She paused before unlocking her door, listening for any sound that might indicate that Booth had unexpectedly returned. Hearing nothing, she quickly opened her door and practically sprinted to Booth's room.

Temperance stopped in the doorway. Her breaths now came rapidly, and she felt her nervousness increase. She hadn't thought about stealing Booth's clothing to heighten her masturbatory pleasure before. It seemed a dangerous thing to do. What if he noticed? Would he immediately think that she was using stolen items of his clothing to fuel her fantasies?

He'd probably come up with a more benign explanation, Temperance thought. He's a bit squeamish about sex, anyway.

Distantly, she heard a car alarm go off. Startled, she let out a squeak at the flood of adrenaline that swept across her body. Her arousal seemed to increase, and she felt her vagina lubricating. Temperance shivered again. She needed release, and if that entailed filching one or two of Booth's shirts, then so be it.

The damage to Booth's apartment had prevented him from returning to retrieve any of his possessions. As a result, he had to buy the necessities that Temperance couldn't lend to him. She could give toothbrushes, shampoo, soap, and things like that, but she certainly couldn't lend him clothes to wear. This resulted in a shopping spree with the goal of replacing the many suits, ties, and socks that were now trapped in the condemned apartment complex.

Angela had insisted that Temperance go with Booth to pick out his new clothes. She wasn't exactly sure why, but it probably was a ploy to get the two of them closer. Initially, she refused, but was dragged along by Booth to help him select some flashy ties and crazy socks. Later, Angela seemed disappointed that she didn't pick out some "sexy shirts" or more intimate articles of clothing for Booth. Temperance was beginning to regret it too. It would be all the more erotic if she could masturbate to the smell of a shirt she specifically picked out for him.

The bed was neatly made. A half-open closet door revealed some clean shirts and pants hanging from racks. Those wouldn't do—they were washed and wouldn't have his scent on them. Ideally, she wanted a sweatshirt, but she didn't remember Booth buying one after the fire. Temperance opened the top drawer on the dresser. Socks, boxers, and—there—pajamas. Flannel pants, solid colored t-shirt. Pulling out the neatly folded items, she took a big whiff.

Perfect. Temperance moaned aloud. That was exactly what she was looking for: clothing that Booth wore everyday that weren't washed very often. She was sure that Booth would notice later that his pajamas had been moved, but, in her aroused state, she didn't care. Clutching both items to the front of her bathrobe, she went back to her room.

This time, she closed her door but didn't bother to lock it. Dropping the nightwear on the edge of the bed, Temperance stripped off her bathrobe. Throwing herself back onto the bed, she unfolded the shirt and pants and pressed them to her nose, taking deep breaths. She let out another loud moan as pleasure coursed through her.

She now felt more aroused than she had at any time in the past eleven days. Panting, Temperance separated the two pieces of clothing, keeping the shirt pressed to her nose as she rubbed the pants on her stomach, enjoying the sensation of the cloth on her skin. Her nipples ached for attention, so she moved the pants up further, creating wonderful friction on her breasts. Each breath was an audible gasp as her body responded to the stimulation.

Temperance continued this for a couple minutes. Sitting up, she pulled Booth's shirt over her head to put it on. Through the fabric, she began to pinch and roll her nipples. She could feel the amount of lubrication between her legs and was sure a big wet spot was forming on her bed. Bringing one hand down to the source of the wetness, she brushed her clit.

Temperance's body jerked in response, her vocalizations becoming higher pitched. She continued to stimulate herself by slowly rubbing a finger around her clit, imagining that Booth's fingers stroking her. Pressure began to build in her belly and between her legs, and she knew that the impending orgasm would be good.

Temperance continued to masturbate, feeling muscles all over her body tighten in anticipation. Her toes curled and uncurled with every wave of pleasure that spread from her sensitive regions. She was moving closer and closer to an orgasm. The pant legs of Booth's pajamas were starting to tangle with Temperance's arms and body as she writhed in ecstasy. Each whimper, groan, and gasp reverberated off the walls of her room.

Though her eyes were squeezed shut, she could clearly see Booth lying between her legs, his fingers working magic on her clit. Brown eyes watched her with adoration, desire, and love. Perhaps he would be enjoying the strong scent of her arousal. He might even be tempted to taste her. But he would refrain, instead working on pleasuring her.

But before she could orgasm, Temperance forced herself to stop the stimulation. She brought her slick fingers to her mouth and tasted her own juices. Gasping for breath, she just laid there, Booth's pants wrapped comfortably around her head and neck. Using her wet hand, she grabbed a fist full of Booth's shirt and brought it to her nose, enjoying the mix of his scent and her arousal.

The feeling of impending orgasm was beginning to subside. Temperance realized that Booth's shirt was a bit large for her, and that the hem had soaked up some of her wetness. Sighing, she wiped her face with her clean hand. I'm probably going to have to throw his pajamas in the wash. She took a deep, Booth-scented breath of air. Oh well.

She waited a couple of minutes before returning to masturbation. This time, she rubbed her fingers directly on her clit, with no thought for taking it slow. Temperance cried out loudly, the wave of pleasure more intense than before. Booth didn't want to go slow this time. He wanted her to orgasm.

She was sure that the neighbors could hear her keening, but she didn't care. Her limbs were clenched with anticipation, and she was so close. The ache in her stomach and clit built to a crescendo and exploded. Temperance was sure she screamed as her orgasm washed over her, and she flailed on the bed as the tension in her body turned into pleasure. Oh, yes.