Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own nor am I involved with the production of Bones, but I do work cheap, so Hart & Co. feel free to call me.

A/N: Here's the 2nd installment, the final one will be up tomorrow on the 10th. Hope you enjoy them all and Merry Christmas Amanda! Thanks.

Santa Baby – Chapter Two

"Now do yourself a favor, go home. Take the rest of the day off; tell Cam you've got some personal business to take care of and then take care of business."

"So...you're saying I should masturbate?"

"Yes, Sweetie, masturbate, get off, tickle your fancy. Whatever you want to call it, just, just go home, run a hot bath, pour a tall glass of good wine, and log a little personal time with your massaging shower head, alright?"

"Yes, I-I think that's exactly what I'll do."

Her conversation with Angela had been playing in her head on an endless loop since she left her office. She couldn't believe that she was thinking about actually going home in the middle of the day to indulge her biological urges. It was tantamount to a capitulation of the enlightened intellectual to the base primitive, more than that it was a betrayal of her principles as an academic and a scientist. Yes, part of her could appreciate it as an expression of self-empowered feminism, but another part of her felt it was simply too self indulgent and more than a little skeevy.

She wasn't even sure what skeevy was, but this seemed skeevy to her. In fact she would probably be better off just taking a long hot bath and reading one of her anthropological journals only…only every time she thought about taking a bath and reading a journal she thought back to the time she'd interrupted Booth taking a bath. Booth in the bath wearing nothing but a stupid beer hat, smoking that stupid cigar and reading that stupid comic book; if only he hadn't stood up.

It was a game she liked to play - a self-indulgent folly, of course, but one she allowed herself. The game went like this, 'if only Booth hadn't stood up and shown off his beautiful naked body I wouldn't dream about him ravishing me like some virgin-heroine in one of Cam's bawdy romance novels'. That was a particularly embarrassing recurring fantasy of hers - Booth as Lord Seeley, powerful local laird and master of the manor, her as the lowly serving wench Temperance who is really an undercover scholar of forensics working on behalf of the King to discover the secret behind a series of local disappearances. All is going well until she's called to fetch towels for Lord Seeley's bath. She enters the torch-lit room, he's lounging in the steaming bath drinking wine from a golden goblet when he spies her out of the corner of his eyes. He commands her to come forward into the light, and when she does he casts a critical eye over her, never smiling, only to command her, 'Attend me'. And she did, rubbing him down with rough cotton towels, chaffing his bronzed skin until it glowed, chasing away the water as it rolled down his chest, his stomach, his pelvis his...well the investigation never really gets past that point. Pity the poor people of Middlewich.

As embarrassing a fantasy as that was, it paled in comparison to the ones that involve him taking her in her office, his office, Angela's office, Sweet's office...she was beginning to detect a recurring theme. Of course that didn't account for her fantasies involving Limbo, her examination room, the decontamination showers, the lobby, or an exam table on the platform. Those wouldn't be so bad, of course, if she hadn't had the opportunity to actually put her hands on his body when they were in Las Vegas working the Roberts/Morgan case.

A shiver ran through her body just then, accompanied by snapshot images of Booth, muscles rippling, pummeling a larger man into submission. Those snapshot images were immediately followed by sense memories of steamy showers, Irish Spring and Tiger Balm being generously applied by her eager and active fingers to the aching, rigid muscles of his chiseled frame. He fell asleep under her hands, with only a towel between them. She shouldn't have peaked. Now, of course, it was all she could do not to imagine his gloriously naked body every time he got near enough for her to smell him – and if he'd been working out at the gym that day, forget it.

All of this was going through her mind as she completed the short drive from the Jeffersonian to her apartment, which led her to one inevitable conclusion – if she was ever to have a moment's sanity to herself again before Booth came back from the symposium she needed a biological release.

· V ·

Brennan had just shouldered open the door, her keys were still jingling in the lock, when she saw it. And how could she not? It was sitting there on the end of her coffee table, in full view of the entryway and front door, and it was sparkling in the dim light. A box. A gift box, obviously, that wasn't the question, the question was who could have left it there, and why?

Her father, Booth, Angela? All had access to her apartment, but who could have left it for her? Her father was in Vermont, and Booth, he'd been in Chicago for more than three weeks teaching a class on interrogation techniques at a joint Law Enforcement Services symposium. That left only Angela, but she'd been at work when Brennan arrived, late, and was still there when Brennan left for the day.

It occurred to her that she should be wary, nervous, and even afraid of the fact that someone had broken into her house and left a package for her – in her line of work that was almost never a good thing to have happen. And yet…and yet the only feeling Brennan could muster right then was a burning curiosity. Albeit a burning curiosity tempered by experience; she calmly slipped the small Smith & Wesson Bodyguard out of its hiding place and thumbed off the safety.

The door swing shut behind her, Brennan absently throwing the deadbolt while simultaneously toeing off her shoes. She'd managed to drop her briefcase, shrug out of her coat, and put her keys in their place in a bowl near the door, without taking her eyes off the package. True, juggling the .380 had been a bit trickier than she'd liked, but she was nothing if not prepared as she stepped into the living room of her apartment.

It took Brennan less than 30 seconds to do a quick and dirty sweep of her place without ever really leaving the perimeter of her living room. With one eye firmly fixed on the mystery box sitting on her coffee table, she'd looked around until she was sure that the package itself was the only thing that was out of place.

She approached they mystery box the way a lioness would approach a sleeping gazelle, wary of any rapid movements, worried that if she took her eyes off of it for a second, or if she moved too quickly, then her quarry might bolt. But it didn't. It wasn't an illusion, it wasn't a dream, and it was real. Someone had left her a beautifully wrapped present; covered in embossed gold foil paper, the box was wrapped up in a gauzy ribbon of metallic silver and gold thread that seems to catch even the dimmest light and make dance like liquid fire. It should have been gaudy and over the top, maybe it was to someone else, but what it was to her, was beautiful.

Reaching out, the golden paper felt cool to the touch; she traced the raised ridges and dimpled valleys of the embossed paper with an intensity normally reserved for bones. The ribbon was at once rough and smooth, gossamer light silk interwoven with silver and gold thread that was flowed like water beneath her fingertips. She thumbed on the safety and set her pistol down on the table; her hands lightly grasped the box, turning it too and fro, watching in wonder as the light seemed to ripple across its surface. Of course when the box started to vibrate she dropped it like a hot rock.

She was standing about five feet away, panting breathlessly; eyes transfixed by the box on the floor, shaking like an epileptic Chihuahua. Creeping forward slowly, she cautiously reached out and – the vibration died the second she touched the box. Curiosity overcoming common sense, Brennan snatched the package up and gave it a shake. It instantly started vibrating again.

With a frustrated sigh she carried the box to the couch and sat down. Tugging the ribbon free, she ran a nail under the edge, carefully separating the tape and teasing the paper aside. Her careful approach was taking longer than she liked, and a nervous twitch caused her fingers to tug too hard, tearing the paper. The sudden sound of that small rip was like a damn breaking inside her, and for the first time in her life Temperance Brennan was tearing the paper off a present - pulling and ripping until all that was left was a plain, brown box, roughly the size of a large shoebox.

She carefully popped open the top and started pulling out the packing paper, anxious to get to what lay beneath. Paper and packing peanuts covered the floor as she heedlessly emptied the box until she got to the prize at the bottom. Gasping aloud, Brennan reached inside and pulled out her present. There, in her own two shaking hands, was the gift someone had gone to such great lengths to give her – a vibrator. But not just any vibrator, the box proclaimed this to be "King Dong", a seven inch long life-like vibrator that promised realistic flesh tones and a real, flesh-like feel.

She was just about to put it down and call up a certain artist to give her a firm lecture on respecting personal boundaries, after all, who else could possibly have been responsible, when she saw the note lying amidst the wreckage of the packing material. Snatching it up, Brennan tore the note free of its envelope and gasped-

'Bones,

I know you probably didn't see this one coming, but partners take care of one another in all sorts of ways. Since I can't be there to take care of you personally, I thought our little friend here could do the trick until I'm back in town.

See ya' in a few days, oh, and don't bother trying to figure out how I managed to get this inside your apartment when I'm a thousand miles away – they don't call me a 'special agent' for nothing!

~ Booth

PS – don't forget to eat something while I'm gone! And no, rabbit food isn't a meal!'

Brennan dropped the box in disgust. She'd used vibrators before; she wasn't ashamed to admit that, but getting something like this from Booth? He was her partner! This, this was completely inappropriate; it was surely far over that precious line of his. Hell, it was so far over the line the line was a dot on the horizon. No, scratch that, it was the horizon.

Still...

She had been dreaming about him, constantly, since he'd been gone, and he'd been the subject of waking dreams and daytime fantasies for a long, long time before then. And of course, they was a physical attraction between them, how could there not be? They were two physically attractive individuals with a unique, even special connection – the kind of connection that could not only enhance a sexual coupling it could elevate it to something truly special. And that was why she hadn't, as Angela would say, jumped him yet. She understood, as she assumed Booth did, that what they had was special, and that a physical coupling, however enjoyable, would ultimately be self defeating. It was also why she'd agreed with him in principle that a romantic relationship between partners wasn't the best idea, especially given the hazardous nature of their chosen professions. They needed to rely on one another, to be there for one another, and while she couldn't deny the intense, almost visceral attraction she had for him, she had to remember that he was her partner. Yes, he was strong and virile and charming and, and sweet - he was Booth, after all. He was her partner.

Her handsome, sexy, amazingly symmetrical partner who was so frustrating, so…so Goddamned arrogant and cock-sure, what with his cocky belt buckle wearing, boss fucking, pussy teasing attitude. As if she wasn't constantly aware of just how hard his body was beneath those $1200 designer Italian suits. As if she didn't feel his hot, muscular body every time he pulled her in for a 'guy hug', whatever the fuck those were; or let her fingers trace the lines of his muscles when they 'accidentally' bumped into one another. Damn him.

Brennan grabbed the box and stormed off to her bedroom, cursing Booth's name the entire time.

· V ·

Soft jazz played quietly in the background while the warm heat of the bath salt scented water eased away her physical aches. A sip of rich, red wine rolled indulgently over her tongue before sliding down her throat, warming her from the inside out. Brennan reached out for her partner's gift. Marveling at the way the light bounced off the veins and ridges along the curved silicone shaft. A twist of the base started the vibrator humming and she watched in fascination as the shaft disappeared beneath the water, making the surface of her bath dance and flash in the flickering candlelight.

The head of the vibrator touched the outer lips of her pussy, sending an exhilarating thrill straight to Brennan's center. She caressed her pussy slowly, massaging her outer lips by stroking up and down with the vibrator and letting the soft gel head push between them, teasing the sensitive inner surface. A small mewling moan slipped out when she hit a certain spot; pressing harder, the head slipped between the lips just inside her entrance. Moving up and down with short, rolling motions, she made sure the vibrating head massaged the sensitive walls right there, bighting her lower lip as the sensation drove her desire to greater and greater heights.

Her mind ran free with her fantasies and soon it was Booth's head between her legs, his talented tongue lashing away in her dripping wet pussy, licking her inside out, dragging his face, rough with five o'clock shadow, over her sensitive inner thighs. Her fingers were his fingers, slowly pushing their way through the thatch of chestnut curls; she could imagine a rough calloused index finger lazily circling her clit as the jelly soft head of the vibrator, a proxy for his talented tongue, pushed deeper past her outer lips.

Shifting back, the warm water sloshing over her chest as her body sank deeper into the tub; Brennan could feel him entering her, filling her, stretching her. His length and girth were perfect and the way he moved inside her, teasing her inner walls, massaging that soft and rigid spot inside that made her gasp, while his fingers continually teased and tortured her aching clit. She'd wanted Booth for years, but she couldn't have him, so if this was as close as she was going to get then she'd make it worth every second.

The fire in her core was burning hotter and hotter, until it seemed like the water was sizzling against her skin. Tension in her center coiled tighter with each twist and thrust, stoking the fire inside. Her muscles grew taut, her nipples tightened, gooseflesh rose over every inch of exposed skin. She could feel the pressure building like a wave inside her, and those images - her being ravaged by Booth's mouth, held down by his muscular arms, while a pounding surf roared around them grew stronger and stronger until a huge wave came along and – nothing. The vibrator simply stopped. Dead.

Brennan sat there, frozen, a tableau of sexual frustration. Slowly, almost as if in a daze, she pulled it out of her now aching pussy, sitting up in the tub as she did. She turned the base again and again, seeking new power settings each time – nothing. She took off the base and reseated the batteries, then screwed it back on and twisted it more aggressively - the vibrator sprung to life again only to peter out almost at once. She screwed her eyes shut in quiet contemplation of the vagaries of life.

"Fuck!" she shouted, bolting upright in the bath. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Water cascaded off her lithe, toned body as she reached for the plug and stepped out of the bath without a second thought. Water sloshed over the sides, swamping three fourths of the scented candles. Yanking her towel from the rack she scarcely noticed that it had flicked the fourth candle into the tub with a wet, sloshy plunk. A woman on a mission, Brennan marched into her bedroom, one hand holding a towel and half scrubbing her body dry, the other holding her vibrator in a death grip, and all the while water trailing across her floor as she strode with purpose and cursed her partner the entire time.

"What kind of moron buys someone a vibrator and doesn't check the fucking batteries!" she fumed, "Booth, that's what kind. I swear, if that man wasn't so Goddamned gorgeous I'd beat him senseless with this, this…ARGH!"

She yanked on a pair of jeans and pulled on a t-shirt, not bothering with such niceties as panties or a bra, and marched straight out of her bedroom and into the living room. Brennan snatched up her sidearm and jammed it into her purse along with the inactive vibrator. Shoving her feet into a pair of flats, she threw on a jacket and grabbed her keys before marching out the door of her apartment. She was a woman on a mission, and God forbid the person who got in her way.

· V ·

If there was a dark cloud on the horizon, it was parked over Temperance Brennan. The grey December skies had gone greyer before opening up and starting to dump a wet, heavy snow on the city, snarling rush hour traffic and making a bad situation even worse. Of course the fact that she was ill dressed for the weather didn't help matters, nor did the attitudes of the local shop keepers, but none of that could stop her – she had left her apartment with a sense of purpose. She was Temperance Brennan, a woman on a mission – only that mission was going up in flames.

The paunchy, rat faced man leaned forward on the chipped Formica counter, his knuckles going white as he pressed down harder in frustration. One hand came up and pulled a twisted, well chewed upon swizzle stick from between a pair of thick chapped lips and jabbed it in Brennan's direction.

"Listen Lady, I don't give a rat's ass who you think you are or why you think you're so special, but that don't change the fact that we ain't got any triple' A's!"

"But you have to have some! This is a convenience store; you are supposed to sell things that are convenient like disposable lighters and tampons and batteries - if you don't have any batteries why are you even open?!"

"Lady, this is a Kwik Stop Convenience Mart. What we sell is overpriced groceries, day old hot dogs, and Slurpees, and most of that is to teenagers and college kids who are looking for a sugar fix while they come down from whatever they've been smoking," shot back the clerk. "If we don't have any batteries they ain't gonna care. Hey, look, we've got some packs of C cell and D cell batteries, maybe those would work?"

"No, no I told you, I need at least three triple A batteries. Not C cell or D cell, the batteries have to be AAA's! This is the fourth place I've been," Brennan ranted. "The bodega in my neighborhood was out, the gas station at the corner, the Radio Shack closed early because of this damned snow, and now you - you must know where I can get some? Please?"

The clerk threw up his hands in disgust, shoved the swizzle stick back in his mouth and began to chew aggressively. Brennan was about to make an obscene suggestion about what he could do with the stick when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She turned to see a rather frumpy older woman standing there in a severe brown suit giving her a most sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I couldn't help but overhear," her voice was solicitous and understanding. "I take it you don't read the newspapers or watch TV much?"

Brennan shook her head, "No, I've been quite busy lately and I have never watched much television, not even for the news."

"Ah, well then that explains it," She nodded, knowingly. "You see there's a terrible shortage, you know. Seems there was a fire at some battery factory in one of those Latin countries…"

"Mexico," intoned a solemn looking man in a slightly dated, but very conservative, business suit who'd joined the conversation. "It was the Energizer's manufacturing plant outside Mexico City." He then added conspiratorially, "I've heard they're investigating it as a suspicious fire - probably environmentalists if you ask me."

"Oh, I hadn't heard that!" exclaimed Frumpy Woman. "Well that explains it then."

"Explains what? Surely that can't be the only plant in the Western hemisphere that manufactures triple A batteries!" Brennan saw only sad faces staring back at her, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"No, no we're not. Really dearie," Assured the Frumpy Woman. "What with that recall and all-"

"Wait, what recall?"

"The battery recall. You mean you don't know? Really? Hmm, well about a week before Energizer's plant caught fire Duracell had to recall their entire run of double A and triple A batteries. Seems there was some sort of manufacturing mishap that caused them to overheat and catch fire," Solem Man commented.

"Oh no, I heard they exploded," the Frumpy woman nodded readily, ignoring the look from the Solemn Man. "Oh yes, terrible thing, too. Of course my Henry says that the shortage is really being caused by the Government banning the importation of cheaper batteries from China. He says that the Administration is in bed with the battery companies and is colluding to drive up the prices by keeping the supply artificially low. Big Battery, that's what he calls it."

"Poppycock," interrupted the Solemn Man. "That ban was in place long before the Duracell recall or the Energizer fire. It was necessary, too! The Chinese were dumping unsafe batteries on the American market-"

"Excuse me-"

"-Big Battery indeed. That's the sort of conspiracist nonsense that-"

"Excuse me!" shouted Brennan, finally breaking into the conversation. "Does this mean there are no batteries available anywhere?"

"Yes, well I hear you can get them online," Solemn Man offered.

"Amazon," offered the Frumpy Woman. "My daughter ordered four eight-packs of small batteries like the ones you're looking for from Amazon. Got them in just three days, too."

"Now there's a company that knows its business," Solemn Man added. "Why just last week I ordered a-"

"Please, I really need to get some batteries!" Brennan implored. "I have a, a very special gift that needs them. It- it is health related, you see."

"Well, I suppose the person who gave you the gift…"

"Yes, yes, excellent point. I know when I buy any of those electronic toys for my nephews or nieces I also tend to buy the batteries for them," nodded Solemn Man. "You never know when they might run out. You know how those electric toys eat batteries."

"Yes, yes I do," muttered Brennan. "Thank you, thank you both very much."

The door was still closing, slowly, as Brennan hot footed it across the parking lot. If she hadn't been in such a rush she would have been privy to the comments of her fellow shoppers, who were still discussing her issue.

"I say, she was quite abrupt, wasn't she?" Solemn Man remarked.

"Oh please, she was understandably rushed. I mean, I've been where she is, it's no fun when you really need batteries like that and there are none to be found." Argued Frumpy Woman.

"Well you'd think she'd have taken that into consideration, what with Christmas coming and all the battery supplies are bound to be low to begin with," nodded Solemn Man.

"Yes, but it's hardly her fault now is it?" Countered Frumpy Woman, "After all, I've got the same model vibrator at home, and while I wouldn't trade it for anything I swear, they go through batteries like my Henry goes through bacon."

"Yes, well," Solemn Man a-hemmed. "I wasn't going to comment on that."

"Really? I couldn't think of anything else, the way that little pink head was poking out of her purse and all," argued the Frumpy Woman.

"Hmm, quite," nodded Solemn Man. "Quite, indeed."

· V ·

The door was still rattling in its frame. The sound of the bolt hitting home had only just died and she could still here the chain jangling against the brass plate when her keys slid across the coffee table and fell right to the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Her purse followed, missing the table entirely and landing squarely on the couch cushion, and her snow soaked flats were next – striking the wooden structure with a satisfying 'whack' before falling into a neat pile on the floor.

Brennan tossed her coat over the recliner and went straight to the junk drawer where the batteries were kept and pulled, but instead of flying open it came forward just an inch or so, and stuck fast. Brennan tugged and jiggled, but the drawer wasn' . .

"Damnit!"

Brennan growled her rage and yanked hard, the drawer gave way with a crash, spilling half its contents on the floor. She heaved the drawer up onto the cocktail table in Booth's breakfast nook and dropped it with a curse. A quick look on the floor revealed a plethora of pens, paper clips, and post-it note pads but nothing of consequence. She would clean that mess up later, for now she had a mission to complete so she turned her attention back to the drawer and began rooting through its contents in earnest.

The detritus one accumulates in life is truly fascinating. A plethora of takeout menus, a score of different condiment packets, hard candy, a child's cheap tiny windup toy, a vintage stapler, a letter opener shaped like a Japanese Samurai sword, the expired FBI Contractor photo ID she'd thought she'd lost. Yes, a variety of flotsam and jetsam but not what she was looking for until…

"YES!"

Holding a small box aloft in her hands like a trophy, Brennan barely stopped herself from dancing for joy before she gleefully tore open the top off the flimsy cardboard package. Joy was quickly transformed when, instead of the promised four batteries, she found only two.

"Fuck!"

Brennan crushed the small box in her hand, batteries and all, and began pacing back and forth, kicking post-it notes and pens across the kitchen floor as she did.

"Okay, Bones...think. You know Booth, you know he has to have some batteries in the apartment, after all he's constantly going on and on how Parker's always stealing them out of the remotes for his toys and – the remotes!"

Inspired, Brennan bolted for the living room and began searching frantically for one of the myriad of remotes that Booth kept in the house. She flipped over couch cushions, dumped out the magazine rack, searched the stereo cabinet and even rifled through the DVD case near the TV.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" she all but danced for joy at the discovery of the 'mother lode' – five remotes all nestled neatly in a small carrying caddy near her partner's recliner. Clutching the caddy to her chest, Brennan sat down on the couch and began hastily popping off the back panels from each remote and prying out the batteries inside. She almost cried when she picked up the fourth, and next to last, remote – the one for his blu-ray DVD player – and discovered two fresh AAA batteries inside.

Humming happily, Brennan sat down on the well worn leather couch and pooled her fresh battery supply. She counted four, yes four AAA batteries and grabbed the vibrator out of her purse, rapidly swapping the old ones for fresh ones. She almost cried when she turned the base of the pink fleshy monstrosity and it hummed to life. The sense of relief Brennan felt was rapidly replaced by one of amusement – she was sitting on the couch of her partner's apartment. The same partner who's image and scent and memory had been tormenting her for weeks. The same partner who'd been the inspiration for her dirtiest dreams and darkest fantasies for months - even years if she was honest with herself – and now she was here, in his apartment, all alone, and with a vibrator. Not just any vibrator, but the very vibrator that he'd bought for her.

'What the hell,' she thought. 'After all, what Booth doesn't know can't hurt him, right? And after all I've gone through just to get this thing running it's not like he doesn't owe me, and there's no better time to collect.'

Brennan grinned at the thought, wondered what Angela would say if she knew, and almost danced on her way to Booth's bedroom. Once inside the doorway of his sanctum she stopped, stilled, and sniffed the air, breathing deeply. A sigh escaped her lips - it smelled like Booth. It was his aftershave, his hair gel, his soap…his very essence. Just the scent of him raised gooseflesh down her arms and made her feel wet and slippery.

Without a second thought Brennan set the vibrator on her partner's dresser, kicked off her flats, peeled off her jeans, and pulled the t-shirt over her head. It had taken seconds but there she was, after years of dancing around the issue, finally naked in Booth's bedroom.

'Figures, eventually finally gets here and Booth's is out of town,' Brennan snorted at the thought.

Turning, she grabbed for the vibrator and made for the adjoining en suite; soon the sound of running water filled the silence. She came back out a minute later, still chuffing the pink toy with one of Booth's hand towels. Setting towel and toy down on the top of his nightstand, she couldn't help but notice the large ivory toned pillar candle and a box of matches sitting next to his alarm clock. Casting a glance to the other side of the bed, Brennan couldn't help but smile.

'Scented candles? Really Booth?' She thought to herself, 'He never ceases to surprise me, I wonder what I'll find next? Strawberry flavored lube and an rock ballad mix tape?'

She pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and the chuckle died instantly. If the inside of the drawer was any indication, Booth was anything but a prude. There were a dozen different styles of magnum sized condoms – ribbed, ticklers, lubricated, flavored, glow in the dark. Likewise the selection of lubricants was as varied as the selection of massage oils, and included flavored edibles as well as stimulants specific for men and women. There were several types of incense as well, cones and sticks, and there in the back was the crowning jewel - a well thumbed pocket Kama Sutra.

"Son of a bitch..." she whispered.

· V ·

The faint tinge of sulfur mingled with the rich, earthy undertones of amber as the smoke from the cone of Gonesh slowly curled upwards toward the ceiling. The burning incense mingled with the ever present scent of Booth that persisted in the bed sheets and seemed to burst forth stronger every time she moved across his bed.

The kiss of cool cotton against her skin sent chills through her body; the brush of his pillow against her cheek was a sweet lover's caress. In the guttering light of the candles, the rich smell of incense mingling with the richer scent of Booth and the growing presence of her own arousal made for a heady perfume. It was stronger than the strongest tequila, sweeter than the sweetest wine, and in the half cast darkness, amidst the soft sounds of Latin blues, it felt perfect.

Turning her new friend on a lower power setting, she settled back on the bed - knees up, legs splayed, with her hand moving lazily south. A hum rose up from the back of her throat as her silicone lover pushed slowly through her damp curls. The low vibration resonated within her, feeding her growing need, and as her mind opened to the experience her fantasies came to life. Brennan sucked in a sharp breath as the vibrating head grazed crest of her mound and slipped between her glistening lips.

Her hand slipped lower, the soft pink silicone head and shaft pushing along, separating the length of her slit, sending a myriad of delicious sensations straight to her core while the fingers of her free hand tugged and tweaked the nipples of first one breast and then the other. She rolled the full, heavy flesh in the palm of her hand while her fingers kneaded and plucked until each nippled was a perfectly hard pearl aching for attention.

Sliding her toy back and forth along the whole of her pussy, she pushed it harder, drawing deeper, splitting her lips with the vibrating shaft, biting her lower lip as the fleshy ridge teased her aching clit and the bulbous head hit the sensitive walls just inside her entrance. Mewling moans of pleasure bubbled up from her throat as she continued to roll the soft silicone shaft over her clit and between her pussy lips. The constant pressure and stimulation was coiling the tension in her core tighter and tighter. A few more minutes and she stopped long enough to twist the dial, increasing the speed by several notches and hissing her approval as the pink helmeted head stroked downward, sheathing itself inside her.

Brennan sucked in a breath, as one hand splayed her lips wide, the other tilted and pushed. Letting the breath slip free, the head pushed past her swollen lips and the fire in her core roared as the thick shaft slowly, steadily, disappeared between her well lubricated lips and sank deeper and deeper into her dripping wet pussy, stroking her walls, rubbing against the soft rigid spot inside her and driving her higher and higher.

She shifted her pelvis and it happened - the vibrator stroked against the right spot and lighting burst behind Brennan's eyes. She froze, clamping her legs shut to hold the vibrating monster in place where it continued to send jolt after jolt of electric ecstasy to her core while freeing her hands to run over the length of her body.

Laying there in Booth's bedroom, in his bed, on his sheets, amidst the sounds and scents and rhythms of sex, she could almost imagine that Booth's hands were teasing her nipples, kneading the soft flesh of her full breasts, and that the thick shaft stretching her pussy as it pulsed and vibrated, was Booth's cock. Rolling her hips, Brennan gasped as the head of the vibrator stroked her inside. She repeated the motion again and again, hands stroking her stomach, sides, the undersides of her breasts with each roll of her hips, each tilt of her pelvis.

In her mind's eye Brennan could feel Booth over here, pressing her into the bed; she could smell his scent, strong and clean and masculine, filling her nostrils each time her head thrashed in sweet agony. She imagined him kissing her, his lips on her flesh, his teeth nipping, his mouth tasting her, sucking on her skin, marking her as his. Her nipples ached from the attention her fingers gave them, her breasts were sore from the want of feeling his powerful hands.

One of her own slipped between her legs, grasping the base of her soft pink monster as they fell open to her. She drew the vibrator out slowly, only to push it back in faster, continuing the act and increasing her speed with each thrust until the sound of pulsing silicone plunging into her dripping pussy competed with the sounds of Latin blues and her own moaning voice.

After years of knowing him, months of wanting him, weeks filled with sleepless nights that were filled only with thoughts of him and how he would take her in every imaginable way in this very room, it was no wonder she would reach her peak so soon. And so it was, amidst the wet, sloppy sounds of the vibrator slipping in and out of her throbbing pussy, the feel of the fingers of her free hand as they sought out her clit to tease and stroke it until she could come screaming, that Temperance Brennan, on the verge of an Earth shattering orgasm, quite succinctly, lost her shit.

"So Bones, is this a private party or can anyone join in?"

A/N: There's a review button there, please feel free to use it and remember, the more specific the better. Its not that I don't love fluffy reviews but I like detailed feedback better. Thanks!