A/N-Thank you all so much for your interest and support. Now that the show has ended, I wasn't sure if there would be any interest, and I'm really excited by the response so far. I hope you all continue to enjoy it! As before, this story is M-rated and I don't own the characters.

Chapter 2: Needs

Brennan was leading Booth to her bedroom by the tie when she paused thoughtfully. "Do you have to go to the office tomorrow?"

"No. I finished my paperwork and I haven't had a day off in a while. Why?" He smirked and pointed at her, "Are you actually thinking about not going into the lab tomorrow?"

"I was considering a day off. Well, unless remains are found."

"Sure, that's pretty much always the—" he was interrupted by his own stomach, growling loudly.

"Haven't you eaten?"

"I had something this morning. It was kind of a busy day."

"I'm sure I have something," she said, dropping his tie and walking past him to the kitchen.

He followed her, stepping behind her as she looked in her fridge. He pulled back her hair, exposing her neck before he placed soft kisses against her pulse point. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm still pretty busy," he mumbled. "I'll grab a snack later."

Her breath became just a little heavier as she tilted her head, offering him unencumbered access to the sensitive expanse of skin. With the fridge door still open, she reached behind her, her hands finding his hips, her palms pressing possessively against him. She rocked back subtly, her hand urging his hips to move too as her ass pushed against him and forced him to groan.

It was his turn to offer a stuttered breath, his arms winding around her waist, one hand cupping her breast while the other traveled lower down her abdomen to the lowest point of her stomach. "You'll like this," she said, her husky voice prickling his skin. She grabbed a few ingredients and continued making something to eat.

"Damn right I will," he grumbled, griping when she stepped away. His arms were still partially around her as she turned on the oven, preheating it. "I've been waiting years for you. I've only been waiting a few hours to eat, food can wait."

She peered over her shoulder and insisted, "I don't want you passing out on me. At least not from low blood sugar."

He chuckled and stepped against her again, his fingers tickling down to the button on her pants, popping it open before lowering her zipper. His hand wiggled into the fabric, his fingers snaking under her panties as he sought her heat. "God," he growled lustily as his fingers slid in the dampness that coated her slit.

"What?" she moaned.

"You're so damn wet, and I didn't even do anything yet," he whispered, his tongue flickering her earlobe as he spoke.

"Complaining?" she barely managed to ask, distractedly dropping something on the counter as her hands returned to the outsides of his thighs and her head lulled back against his shoulder.

"Not at all," he answered, the pad of his finger tapping her sensitive nub just to watch her pleasured expression. "It's seriously hot. I love the way you respond to me."

Her breath became even heavier as she started to forget the task at hand and just enjoy the sensations that were sweeping through her body. "Wait, Booth," she said, struggling to pull herself away like it was a monumental burden. "Let me throw this in the oven."

He still didn't let go, his hands insistently hanging onto her hips while she opened the oven and threw something in, quickly setting the timer. "There," she confirmed with satisfaction as she brushed crumbs from her hands into the sink. "I'm all yours for eighteen minutes."

"You're giving me a time limit?"

"Well—"

"Shh," he interrupted, quickly turning her so she was facing him and kissing her. He immediately lifted her up onto the counter, finally pulling her pants and panties the rest of the way from her body before he started on her shirt. "No time for chit chat," he smirked.

She started unbuttoning his shirt, deciding that she was too impatient to waste time with so many buttons before she reached for his pants. Her fingers immediately wrapped partway around his hard-on through his pants and began to stroke while he pushed forward into her grasp. In a flash his fingers were pumping into her body, feeling the warmth and wetness against his hand, and he was already losing track of his thoughts as desire crowded them out. She managed, at some point, to pull his erection from his pants and he felt a tingle up his spine as she shifted closer on the counter. He fisted his cock, his other arm wrapped around her waist, and he carefully pushed into her body. She moaned, exasperated by what she perceived as too much patience. "I need you right now."

His jaw gaped slightly for a moment, her words unexpected. His tongue slid over his lower lip to combat the dryness caused by his heavy breath and he asked, "You need me?"

"God, yes," she panted, her forearms resting on his shoulders as she started to use her surprising strength to move her body even if he wasn't going to help. Brennan knew how to take what she wanted.

His hands resting on the counter behind her, he just allowed himself to experience her for a moment, watching the way she was going to fuck him if he wasn't going to take matters into his own hands. She was unapologetically lusty, and the depth of her desire turned him on more than he'd expected. He finally allowed his hands to move to her knees, following the curve of her thighs, feeling the tight muscles beneath her soft skin. Finally his hands found her hips and slid around to the firm cushion of her ass.

He stepped away from the counter, holding her in his arms as he plunged desperately in and out of her. Her legs encircled around him, holding him against her, her arms stayed wrapped behind his neck. Surprisingly, she was just as willing to relinquish control of the moment once he was doing what she wanted. She was uninhibited, murmuring any thought that came to mind, completely wanton in the way she moved. He barely managed to speak, "You're so damn hot. You're just…so damn hot."

Those weren't the words he'd meant to speak. He wanted to say something admiring and sweet, something to convey just how attractive she was and how much he wanted her, but he couldn't seem to find any other words. Every muscle in his body was fully contracted, and his balls were so tight he swore they were in his chest. His thinking brain completely ceased to function. When all she could seem to manage to say in response was, "You. Yes. God," it became apparent that he wasn't the only one whose brain had been numbed to the point of stupidity. Numbing Brennan's brain was quite an accomplishment.

Wanting to avoid a back injury, especially when he didn't want anything to hinder them in the next few days, he held onto her more tightly, stepping over to her tall stone slab desk and setting her down on the edge. She giggled as he pulled himself up on the table and slid his body over top of her, slipping an arm behind her back and scooping her up to move her farther across the surface. Pens and paper weights and whatever the hell had been on the desk crashed onto the floor after being hit with one body part or another. Part of him expected her to disapprove, but instead she laughed, smiling at the scene they were creating. It made his heart tense in insistent pulses that made it clear just how much he adored her.

They slowed their pace for a moment, taking a chance to caress, feel and connect, but that moment was quickly shoved aside when their desires for each other became too much. They slipped easily back into their rhythm and were lost again.

He began to think of other things, the cold slab of the desk, the combination to his high school locker, anything to try to make his threatening orgasm recede. He actually groaned something aloud when she grabbed onto his back, her hands gripping at the muscle with unexpected force. She stared at him, talking through a clenched jaw as she said, "I am so close. Hurry. I need you to come with me."

At her words, his resistance was lost before he could even fully consider the request. It was the second time that night that she'd used the work "need" in reference to him and sex, and for some reason that word, said that way, by that woman, was enough to fry his mind and steal his control, and his loss of control sent her over the edge.

He lay on top of her for a few moments, hearing the way he was whispering, "God, baby," almost as if someone else was saying it. He rolled off her, forgetting for a moment that they were on the narrow slab desk, and nearly fell until she grabbed his mostly unbuttoned shirt and held onto him long enough for him to get his feet on the ground for support.

He stood next to the desk, his limbs clearly weary. She found the sight of him in such an odd state of partial undress very endearing. His shirt was mostly open, tie hanging loosely around his neck, leather holster on the floor in her kitchen. He'd stepped out of his pants somewhere between the kitchen counter and the desk, his boxers still hanging off one foot, silly socks still on his feet. When he noticed that she was looking him over, he suddenly seemed self-conscious, quickly slipping his other leg through his boxers and pulling them up while he grabbed his pants from the floor.

She sat up, her hands behind her on the desk for support. Her clothing was strewn about, and she didn't know, nor did she really care, who removed them or when or how. She wanted to have sex like that every day of her life. "You are a very satisfying sexual partner," she sighed as she stretched. "You know a lot of men—"

"Stop!" he shouted, holding a hand up. "Some topics are public topics, some are private topics, and some are never topics. Sex with other men…that's a never topic. I don't want to be compared to—"

The timer on the oven interrupted them, and she stared quizzically. Hopping down without concern for her own nudity, she walked toward the kitchen. "Booth, you have always been uncomfortable when I've mentioned sex I've had with other men. I know that. Do you think I would talk about that right now?"

"I don't know. But there are certain things you can't unhear once you've heard them."

"I wouldn't bring that up only moments after we've had sex. Even I'm not that thoughtless or uncaring. I was only going to say, generally, that a lot of men wouldn't look so enticing in striped socks and boxers."

"Oh," he said regretfully.

Shortly after that they were eating the pizzas that she'd quickly thrown together on naan. He couldn't believe how delicious it was. But then again, he was starving. They ate at her dining table, both partially dressed again. They were sharing conversation just like they'd shared for years. He wondered how many meals they'd eaten together. She could probably do the math. So much between them was exactly the same, and yet everything had changed.

"What is the significance of 3:17?" she asked.

"I don't know. Is there gonna be an eclipse?" he guessed. "Some kind of meteor shower? What is this, a test?"

"No," she smirked. "When we were having sex, you said '3:17'. I was wondering why that time was significant. Or maybe you were talking about a date? March 17th?"

"3:17? I didn't say that."

"You did. Very clearly. What were you thinking about?"

"I—was…oh," he nodded. "My high school locker combination. 28-33-17."

"You were thinking about high school? Why? Were you reliving old conquests?" she asked, a little hurt. He noted that, as much as she pretended to not be jealous or bothered by the thought of him with other women, her words and tone seemed to suggest otherwise. He liked the idea that maybe she was just a little possessive over him, too.

"No. No. Not even a little bit. You are the woman I accidentally think about when I shouldn't, the woman I can't get out of my head. Believe me, you're the only woman I think about when we're together. I was trying to hold off…you know…wait for you to finish."

"Oh!" she answered loudly. "You were concerned that you were going to have an orgasm before me!"

"Thanks for spelling that out."

"Why didn't you just recite the names of saints?" she asked, trying to suppress her knowing smirk.

"I didn't want to stop completely, I just wanted to wait a little longer, okay?"

"Sure," she answered, returning to the food on her plate.

He kept thinking, realizing that he was dying for the answer to a question and finally saying, "I gotta ask you something…"

"Okay."

"Did undressing me excite you at all? Even a little?"

"I wasn't really paying attention. Your fingers can be…very distracting"

"No. I wasn't talking about today. I mean—thanks. But…you remember that case. Outside of a bank, exploding Santa."

"Yes. I remember."

"Well…you know what? Never mind. Just forget I brought it up. This pizza you made is really good," he said, taking a huge bite and hoping she'd drop the topic altogether.

She reached out and rested her fingers on his forearm, waiting for his attention. He looked at her fingers on him and then glanced up at her face, and the affectionate look she gave him made him swallow hard. "Of course I found it arousing. Extremely arousing, as a matter of fact."

"Hunh?"

"Collecting your clothes as evidence. That is what you were referring to, correct?" she clarified. He didn't really answer, so she continued. "I hoped you didn't notice. I was concerned that my pupils were dilated and my skin was flushed, thus making my aroused state obvious."

"I didn't notice."

"That moment appears frequently in my masturbatory fantasies," she stated matter-of-factly. "You?"

"Me?"

"Yes. Did you ever use that memory during masturbation?"

"Uh," he awkwardly began, wondering if he'd ever stop feeling self-conscious with her about topics like this. "I mean…sure. Yea. Lots of times. Imagining if things had continued—had you know…"

"Oh," she said, the suggestive glint in her eye making his revelation suddenly feel completely worthwhile. "Perhaps we could use that to our advantage."

"How?"

"Maybe we could…recreate the memory. Without the interruption. Or the brain matter."

"You know I'm not a role playing kind of guy."

"Is it really role playing if we aren't playing different roles? We'd be ourselves, simply two people reenacting and elaborating on a shared memory for our mutual pleasure."

"That's true," he admitted cautiously.

"So perhaps you'd consider indulging in that little fantasy with me, since it lies within your comfort zone."

"Yea, I mean. I think so," he nodded, enjoying the pleased and excited look on her face. "But not tonight."

"Oh, definitely not tonight."

"Wait. Why'd you say 'definitely'?"

"Because our sexual relationship is new and exciting enough for the time being. In reality, we might be able to start that fantasy, but within a few minutes we'd probably just run out of patience, forget the fantasy and just have sex."

"You're probably right."

As they were clearing the handful of dishes, he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. He took her hands, held them in his, and he said, "You're so beautiful, Bones. I've looked at you thousands of times, and I'm still not used to how gorgeous you are…the way it makes me feel—the way I feel about you. I could look into your eyes for days. And when you smile or give me that confused look…my heart almost can't take it."

She looked down, staring at his chest. "I am certain that with your physical conditioning, your heart is quite healthy."

He took a finger, gently lifting her chin. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, looking at him but not maintaining her usual forthright stare.

"If nothing is wrong, why did you look away?"

"I didn't. I'm looking at you."

"But at first you looked away. See, Bones, you can say stuff about sex and bodies and biology and not even blink twice, but if I want to talk about something more personal…like about hearts and feelings, you seem to feel awkward."

He watched her prepare a counter-argument in her head, but when she spoke, she said, "I would like a shower now. Care to join me?"

"You know, Sweets would say that you're avoiding the subject…deflecting."

"Well," she commented, "that is yet another reason why I'm glad I'm having sex with you instead of Sweets."

He smirked and watched while she shed and dropped the clothes she'd put back on only a few minutes earlier and walked into her room, waving her hips just enough to be sure she had his attention. It was obvious that she thought she had the upper hand.

Booth took a few long steps to catch up with her and quickly surrounded her, confining her with his palms against the wall of her room next to her shoulders. She chuckled in a way that was both seductive and victorious as she reached forward like she planned to undress him again, too. In a flash he had her wrists in his hands, pressing them against the wall over her head. His one hand, wider and stronger than hers, was able to trap both of her wrists, leaving his other hand free.

Their chests were so close, both breathing hard, and he brought his lips so close to hers that he could see the satisfaction in her eyes. "You think you know what's happening right now. Don't you?" he asked.

"I hope so," she answered assuredly. "I think rough sex can be—"

"You're wrong," he interrupted. "This, right now, is not sex."

"Well, not yet. Obviously."

"I'm putting on the brakes for a minute. This is a conversation," he corrected. "See I went years and years watching you, wanting you, and resisting you. I'm an expert. And now you think you can distract me by wiggling your ass in front of me? I have some pretty well developed self-control. And, yea, you look good, and, yea, I want to have you again and again and again…and I don't think I'm going to stop feeling that way any time in the near future. But there's other stuff I want, too. Stuff that is just as important."

"Tell me what you want," she asked, a little less certain of herself.

"I want to be able to tell you that…you mean so much to me. You're my partner. And my friend. And…maybe my girlfriend?"

"Well, given that we both concede that there's a strong emotional connection, we both have agreed to exclusivity, and we are sexually involved, it seems the term applies."

"That's very romantic," he deadpanned.

"Then we agree. Now that that's out of the way…" she moved her lips closer to his but he pulled back.

"No. It's not 'out of the way'. This...the part of us that isn't work and isn't sex…is just as important to me."

Brennan was now both frustrated and confused. Years of loneliness made her appetite for him almost unquenchable, and the prospect of rough sex against her wall not even an hour after the last time they'd had sex was definitely appealing.

Booth was different than most men. In truth, it was part of what made him so attractive and intriguing, but at the same time made her feel more out of control than she was used to feeling. Booth wouldn't be easily lead by promises of a sexual nature.

"Bones!" he said more loudly. "Are you listening to me?"

"I was thinking. But also listening. You were talking about the different facets of our relationship. And that the part that is neither work nor sex is equally important to you."

He appeared to be pleased that she'd heard. "So you heard, but did you understand?"

"I am not sure," she admitted. "I'm not sure how that actually translates to what you want from me right now."

"Want from you? I just want to be with you. I might kiss you, or touch you, or just be next to you without having sex. Sometimes I just want to be close to you…between rounds. Does that make sense?"

"Oh," she said, finally feeling like she understood. "You don't want sex yet because you are still in your refractory period and aren't able to perform again at this time. I—I understand. No problem. I'm already very satisfied."

"Woah, woah," he argued adamantly, "this is not a performance issue. I am pretty much constantly interested in having sex with you, but that doesn't overrun my other interests. It isn't a performance issue, it's a heart issue. And no, I don't mean the muscle, I mean," he put his hand against his chest, "a heart issue."

"Okay," she nodded, focusing the totality of her attention and interest on him and waiting.

"Look," he explained, "I don't want us to be work partners who sleep together. I need more. I feel like we have a chance together…a chance for something really good. And I don't want to mess it up. Believe me, I want you…I've always wanted you…but I want more. I want romance and love."

"Of course," she said as if it were obvious. "I'm not a very romantic person by nature. But I can try. Tell me what you want me to do."

"Kiss me."

"Is this a test?" she skeptically questioned. "Because you just told me—"

"It's not a test. Just a kiss."

She leaned forward, her lips gently caressing his for a second. As she backed away, he locked eyes with her, and the look of adoration that he offered actually made her breath hitch and her heart flutter irregularly for a moment. She came forward again, closing the gap between them and kissing him in the same affectionate manner. His hand released her wrists and he held her face. Her fingers walked up his chest and behind his neck. When she'd kissed him the night before, she'd been so sad and vulnerable, but this was entirely different. In truth, even kissing him bore an intensity and depth of emotional feeling that she'd never experienced with anyone else. "This is nice," she whispered. "I like it."

"I do too," he nodded, his grin both joyful and a shy, and then kissed her again.

She knew that in matters of sex, she purposefully kept a careful boundary between her and her partners, but she was not going to be able to maintain that boundary with Booth. His tender touch was like a wrecking ball to any walls she had, and she understood there was an important choice to make. She could either move forward, or flee. The third option, careful near distance, was no longer available. The thought of running from the swelling of feelings she was experiencing, fleeing from this man next to her, filled her with an empty dread she didn't even want to consider much less face.

He stopped kissing her, his hands caressing her so lovingly as to make his feelings seem unavoidable. All of the collected evidence, although not quite as measurable as she typically preferred, led to one undeniable conclusion: they were in love. It was frightening, and exciting and wonderful.

"Booth," she whispered, "it seems that you were correct. Your refractory period is clearly over." She gazed down between their bodies and lifted her eyebrows.

"I did actually notice that, Bones."

"You've made your point. Non-sexual intimacy is very rewarding and pleasurable on its own."

"Good. That's good," he said, the way his grip tightened and the interested look on his face making it clear that he also valued sexual intimacy.

"Since I concede your point, I will make adjustments. I suppose it's my turn to…how did you say it? 'Put on the brakes.'"

"Wait—"

"Let's get a shower and explore this further," she offered, slinking out from his arms and walking toward the bathroom. After a few steps, realizing that he wasn't following her, she tried to stifle her smile when she turned back to him.

He was still leaning, one hand bracing his weight against the wall, hard and frustrated and a little disoriented. Finally he looked at her, and she waited for him to catch up. He suddenly seemed to realize that she had been teasing him before she said, "I am…quite funny."

"You're hilarious," he chuckled dryly.

"If you'd like, I could help you relieve some of that tension. You coming?" she asked, dashing off into the bathroom and yipping when he ran after her and caught up.

He heard her phone ring and instinctively reached out for his own. It was dark outside, obviously very late, and most calls that came in at such an hour meant there was a body. He glanced at his phone, his eyes still not focusing as he waited for his to ring. She slipped out of bed and left her room.

He wriggled in her bed, the soft zillion count sheets beneath his fingers. He was a little achy and tired, but damn he felt good. He loved Bones' room, or, more specifically, being invited into her room, into her bed. His eyes grew heavy again, and he started to doze.

He woke again, uncertain if he'd been sleeping for a few seconds or several minutes, and wondered why she hadn't returned. He got up, stretching for a moment before he looked around for his clothes. It felt like he'd undressed and redressed about half a dozen times, and he tried to remember when and where he'd lost his boxers and pants the last time she'd taken them. Finally he grabbed a robe she had on a hook behind the door. It was black and silky, too short for a man but better than walking out to the living room naked. After all, maybe someone called before coming over, and he wasn't about to be seen stark naked by anyone who would visit her in the middle of the night.

He peered out carefully, knowing he certainly didn't feel like seeing Max or Russ unless he was completely dressed. He didn't hear anyone except Bones, so he stepped out of her room and saw her sitting on her sofa. Her forehead was resting in her hand and she was still on the phone. The screen glowed against her face, casting a bluish-white color across her skin. She didn't seem to notice him yet.

As he came closer, he heard her say, "…he will be greatly missed. I am…very sorry for your loss." She hung up a few seconds later, and then looked at Booth, "Did I wake you?"

"I heard your phone," he said, sitting on the sofa next to her. "Is everything okay?"

She turned toward him, and scarce light from outside cast only enough additional glow for him to notice that her cheeks were damp with tears. "Come here," he said, sitting back in the corner of her sofa and pulling her toward him.

Her feet curled up on the sofa behind her, she leaned her face against his chest and sighed. He waited, knowing that she would talk to him when she was ready. "That…was Vincent's mother."

"Oh," he said, his hand rubbing her back supportively. "That must have been difficult."

"Actually she called to thank me. She wanted to tell me how much the internship meant to Vincent. She's probably too…sad…to remember the time difference."

"That was nice of her."

"Yes. She was very kind. She doesn't seem to blame me even though she is devastated. I can't even imagine what it would be like to lose a child."

"Why would she blame you?"

"If I hadn't given Vincent the internship, he wouldn't have been at the Jeffersonian. He never would have been hit by Broadsky."

"And I gave him the phone. But Broadsky pulled the trigger. He is the only one who killed Vincent."

"I still feel a certain responsibility for his death."

"Look, Bones, Vincent was living his life, doing what he wanted to do. People can't live their lives in fear. Every time you go outside, there is a risk that something could happen. We take risks every single day without even realizing it. You could catch a horrible virus or be hit by a car or struck by lightning, be shot by a fritzed out drug addict. You could stay inside, keep to yourself, avoid contact with every human being…but even then, there could be a fire or—"

"Or someone could shoot me through a window."

"Exactly. And if you hid here…you and I never would have met. Think of all of the things you'd have missed out on. The job you love, Angela, your interns, a relationship with your brother or Max. I get that it's hard, but it is worth it. I think it was worth it for Vincent, too. Vincent wanted to be there…he wanted to live life and chase his dream. Broadsky's the bad guy."

"I think I would have found it easier if she had been angry at me. I know it's irrational, but—"

"It's not. I get it. Believe me. I felt like that a lot."

"In the army?"

"Yea. And in the FBI. I've seen too many good people die. People who weren't ready, who didn't deserve to die."

"How did you deal with it?"

"Sometimes I drank heavily. But ultimately I pray. I pay my respects. Offer condolences. When I can, I try to make sure the person responsible can't hurt anyone else."

"You already made sure Broadsky can't hurt anyone else. I don't believe in god, so praying when I need comfort seems hypocritical."

"I'll do the praying for both of us," he offered.

After a few moments, she pressed her hand on his chest and sat up. "I have a favor to ask."

"Name it," he said with a flickered smile.

"Do you think you could take a few days off from work? Like, three or four?"

"What are you thinking?"

"You said you pray, pay respects and offer condolences."

"Yes."

"I want to go to Vincent's funeral, in England. I want to pay my respects and offer condolences to his family in person."

"That's very nice, but—"

"I—I will buy the tickets."

"I couldn't let you do that."

"You will be the one doing me a favor. The least I could do to thank you for your assistance is purchase your ticket. Please, Booth," she pleaded.

He nodded, "Yea. If that's what you need to do. I think it's really nice that you want to do that. Very thoughtful."

"Thank you," she said, curling her body next to his. "I find I'm feeling very affectionate toward you, Booth."

"I'm happy to hear that," he whispered, softly kissing the top of her head. He tightened his arm around her, hearing her soft, comforted sigh. "I'm also feeling…very affectionate toward you, Bones."