A/N: Here's a nice, long chappie for you. I hadn't been planning on significantly incorporating other characters into the story, but I had always thought it would be a sweet moment when Angela found out about B&B. So I included it…if it's too boring, then you can always just scroll to the smut. It won't hurt my feelings. Promise!
Speaking of smut…it would appear that most peeps (the vocal ones, at least) are quite content with the idea of mostly smut. Like I said, I work for the people! How's about a little audience participation, then…in your reviews, send me your ideas for your favorite creative, hot, or sweet ways B&B can—express their feelings for one another. LOL. If it seems like it would be a good story, I'll write a chapter about it. Yes! Love this idea! Love you all!
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Friday, late afternoon. The majority of the workers at the Jeffersonian had either left for weekend, or were preparing to do so. The folks at the legal-medico lab were typically among the last to leave, but even the most hardcore of squints were itching to get out; it was a particularly gorgeous day, and promised to be a gorgeous night.
Brennan was in her office, finishing a write-up on a vic that she had examined earlier that day. There was a quick knock at her door, and without waiting for a reply, Angela popped her head in. "Sweetie, I'm gonna get out of here. We're still on for lunch on Sunday, right?"
She looked up. "Mmm-hmm." She did a quick status-check on her documentation. "Actually, I'm about finished here. If you can just wait a minute, I'll walk out to the car with you."
Her suggestion was met by silence. When the quietness became odd, even to her, she looked back up at her friend. Angela was staring at her with her brows furrowed. She could see her brain working hundreds of miles a minute. "Um…yes?"
Angela reached behind her and slammed the office door shut, isolating them in the room. She put her hands on the desk in front of Brennan and leaned in so they were face-to-face.
"Ok. You are definitely holding out on me. Zack is still here. Cam is still here. I am still here. You are always…always, always, always…the last one left in the lab at night. This is the third time this week that it won't be you." She cocked her head, looking at her friend suspiciously, then with indignation. "You are having sex, aren't you?" She pushed herself back off the desk and began pacing around the room, gesticulating wildly. "I can't believe this. My best friend is mounting someone nightly, and she's holding out on me. What the hell is wrong with people around here? I swear, Sweetie, you are breaking my heart. It hurts me. Hurts me."
Temperance had to hold back a chuckle at her friend's histrionics. She did feel bad about keeping a secret—any secret—from her, but Ange knew that she sometimes needed space to figure things out. The pouting was her way of showing that she cared.
"You're going to tell me now, right? You've got to."
Tempe looked at her sideways. She smiled. Opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated.
"I swear I will scream, Brennan."
She paused for just one second longer, just to torture her friend. Then, finally… "Ok! Alright!" She circled the desk and grabbed Angela's hands. "But you have to promise me you won't freak out, ok? There's nothing to freak out about."
Angela nodded excitedly, then clapped her hands over mouth, signifying her inability to freak out.
"Ok." She took a deep breath. "I kind of have something going on…with Booth." Angela's eyes bulged nearly out of her head. "Well, more than kind of, I guess. We have…feelings for one another. And we've been…um…expressing them. Physically."
A high-pitched noise emanated from the back of Angela's throat and escaped from her hands. "Angela. You promised!"
She cut off the sound, and it was immediately replaced by a rapid hopping back and forth from one foot to the other, almost as if she were running in place. Brennan rolled her eyes.
"I'm not going to talk to you unless we can discuss this like adults."
Angela stopped moving. She took several deep breaths, her eyes closed, fanning herself. After she was composed: "Ok. Alright. I'm better now. Honest." A huge grin crossed her face. "But I still wanna throw a freakin' party." She grabbed her friend's hand and tugged her to the couch in the office, pulling her down. "Oh my God, Brennan. What's going on? You have to tell me everything."
She smiled. "I really, honestly don't have time to tell you everything, Ange. I have a dinner tonight." Angela grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Don't say a word!"
"I didn't say anything!" All innocence.
"Maybe we can talk more about it on Sunday. Things are still kind of being figured out, you know. It still is really new and kind of weird. But in a good way." She looked almost shyly at her friend. "It feels really, really good, Ange."
Angela beamed. "Of course it does." Her smile faded and she regarded Brennan more seriously. "I am so proud of you, Sweetie."
"You're proud of me for having sex?"
Eye roll. "No. Well, yes. But mostly because when you told me it was Booth, I knew it was something more than that. I knew it meant that you let someone in. Took a chance. And I know that's a big step for you."
"You're right. It is." She squeezed her friend's hand. "But do me a favor and don't go picking out china patterns for us or anything. If you do that I just might freak out."
"Cross my heart," Angela said solemnly. "And by the way…there is no 'maybe' about it. We will talk about this on Sunday. Every single gory, wet, slippery detail."
"Eww," Brennan said, wrinkling her nose.
"But right now, I respect your right to go and enjoy 'dinner.'" Angela made elaborate quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
Brennan chose to ignore her innuendo. "Thanks, Ange." She gave her a hug. "You are a good friend."
"You are a good friend and…" she said from over her shoulder.
"You are a good friend and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner. And we'll talk more about it on Sunday."
"Perfect." Angela kissed her on the cheek and pulled away, grinning. "Let's get going then. I have a feeling dinner's going to be really tasty tonight." She winked.
As they left the lab, Angela was chattering a mile a minute about what they were to do on Sunday, practically dancing circles around her as she talked. Brennan waved goodbye to Zack and Cam, who regarded the pair curiously. Probably wondering why their resident artist was so hyped up.
'Interesting,' she thought. She had thought that the hardest part was over…acknowledging their feelings and deciding to do something about them. She hadn't projected ahead to what reality would be like…reality that very prominently featured her co-workers, who doubled as her friends. She would have to find a way to manage that issue later. Right now, there was only room in her brain for one person.
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"I'm serious. Cullen wants to kick my ass every day. With the clown-shooting thing, you could tell he was this close to just exploding. He wanted to fire me so bad. But he can't, because you and I have the highest rate of solved homicides in our division. If he fired me, he might as well send out a memo to the bureau, saying 'We're alright with murders. It's less people to send to jail and get mixed up in the legal system. Just kill all you want.'" He opened the oven briefly to check on the lasagna. "Just needs another few minutes, I think."
She poured another glass of wine. "Cullen doesn't want to fire you. He likes you. He gets frustrated when you breach protocol when it feels right to you to do so. You can be a frustrating man, you know."
He smiled a 100-watt smile. "No way. That can't be right. Nobody has ever told me that before."
"Sure," she smirked, elbowing him in the ribs with the arm that was not holding her wine glass. She sat at the table, absently retying the scarf that held back her hair as she regarded him.
Things felt relaxed, almost eerily normal. It may have been because, despite their fears, the week had progressed without incident. No major lapses of reasoning or concentration at work. No personal blow-ups or major conflicts. No sky falling. It was a relief. It may also have been because of the two times they had had sex in the past 24 hours, once the previous evening after dinner (she wondered if she would ever be able to pass the kitchen counter again without blushing), and once again, in bed, upon awakening. Each time they came, trembling in each other's arms, it seemed to take the edge off, and the tension of wanting one another out of their day for at least a little while. However, both were a little disturbed (although they had yet to acknowledge it to one another) that the time that elapsed before the need for one another became almost unbearable seemed to be getting shorter, rather than longer.
He opened the oven again. "I think we're done. And it looks perfect!" He removed the dish from the oven and sat it on the stove, looking with pride at their creation. The heavenly smell of Italian cooking filled the room. "It'll take awhile to cool down." He joined her at the table.
She regarded him languidly, her chin resting on her hand. "We need to figure out what we are doing. Inquiring minds want to know."
He raised an eyebrow. "Whose mind is inquiring?"
"Right now, just Angela's." She paused thoughtfully. "And maybe mine, as well."
"I see." He gazed at her. "Shall we run through our options and choose our favorite? We can start with the least anxiety-provoking and go from there."
"Good idea." She was pleased with his procedure. "Well…I guess we've already ruled out just stopping. Going back to what we were before…only partners."
"Off the table," he said firmly. "I mean, I guess I could tell you that it's a possibility, that we could just forget about everything and I'll never touch you again. But…uh…I'd be lying."
"Mmm. Me too. Off the table."
"Off the table. Next?"
"Next…I guess would be no-strings sex. You know, when we have…biological urges…we fulfill them. It would be discreet, and wouldn't interfere with the rest of our lives in any way"
"I'm assuming that no-strings means…no relationship other than a sexual one. And a friendship. We could still see other people."
"If we wanted to."
He looked at her contemplatively. "Would that really be ok with you?"
She paused while she thought about it. It was the kind of relationship that had become a standard with her…easy in, easy out. Only sometimes, not so easy out. A memory returned to her, unbidden. She remembered the twinge of…something…she had felt when she had realized that Booth and Cam had reinitiated their relationship. At the time, she had written off that feeling as simple resentment: Her partner was sleeping with someone with whom she had a sometimes conflictual relationship, and that might make work issues difficult, messy. She thought about how she would feel, now, if she were to see Cam again take Booth's hand in a way that suggested greater intimacy than that between colleagues. As she thought of this, she was surprised by the intensity of her internal reaction. Despite the delicious smells filling the kitchen, she felt vaguely sick to her stomach.
She met his eyes, almost ashamed. "I don't think I would be. Actually."
He smiled reassuringly. "That's good. Because I think if I saw anyone else touch you, I would have to kill them."
She gave him a look. "You wouldn't kill them."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it wouldn't be good."
"Hmm. Ok. Well, what's next?"
"Well," he said slowly, "I guess what's next is a committed relationship. Sex. Strings. This." He gestured around the room, which at the moment, she had to admit, had a domestic feel to it. "All the time."
She gave him a blank look that he could not decipher. Was it terror? Consideration? Happiness? All of the above? Seconds ticked by.
"Um, Bones? It'd be great if you could help me out here."
She leaned back, looking into his eyes almost suspiciously. "I want my own apartment. It's me. It's mine."
He nodded slowly. "K."
"And…I don't like the whole 'girlfriend/boyfriend' thing. I'm too old for that. I'm not a girl. You're not a boy."
"I see. Ok."
"And…it wouldn't mean that I wouldn't disagree with you. My opinions and values would not change. I'm going to tell you if I think differently than you."
He gave an amused smile. "If we never disagreed, what excuse would I have to rip your clothes off and go at it up against the wall?"
She was fairly sure that she never blushed as much in her life as she had in the past few weeks. "You can't just kiss me every time we fight, Booth."
He smiled, but made no promises.
"Seriously, Booth. Is all of that really ok? Because it's important to me. And I can't assure you that I'll ever budge on any of it." She sighed, and looked at him apologetically. "I'm not the easiest person to be in a relationship with. I readily admit that."
His mouth dropped open, feigning shock. "What?" He pushed his chair back and stood. "I came into this under the premise that you were easy. And now you tell me you're not? False advertising, Bones. False advertising. I'm outta here." He stomped past her, heading for the door.
"Oh, stop," she laughed, standing and grabbing him by the hand. She pulled him back towards her. Teasing her with just a bit of resistance, he finally swung back towards her, settling in her seat and pulling her onto his lap.
"Stop making fun," she said, fighting her smile. She rested her forehead against his. "This is serious business. This is our lives."
"I am fully aware of what this is." With his hand on the back of her neck, he kissed her lips. "It's serious. It's fun. It's good." Another kiss. "I'm willing to give it a chance, and all the other questions? The living arrangements and the work arrangements and whether or not you are going to kick my ass every 5 minutes? They can be answered later. Because you know what?"
"What?" she whispered. She swung one leg around so she was straddling him on the chair.
"I kind of sort of like you," he whispered back.
"Well…maybe I kind of sort of like you back."
"Good. I don't blame you."
She kissed him until the cocky smile disappeared from his lips, and then deepened the kiss and rocked her hips until he began making the low sounds in the back of his throat that indicated his desire for her.
"No fair," he rasped.
"Hey. We have strings now. I can do what I want with you," she said wickedly.
"I see." He trailed his tongue delicately up the side of her throat until he reached her mouth, then he outlined her lips with it before he plunged into her mouth for a wet kiss. He was inflamed by the taste of her skin and her lips. "How about we go back to the bedroom and put those strings to good use?"
"The food?" she gasped, as he took hold of her hips and ground them against his own, creating the most delicious pressure.
"Isn't going anywhere."
She eased back, leaning away from him. He followed her, his hands creeping under the hem of her shirt in the back, stroking her bare skin while he nuzzled the part of her chest that was exposed in the front.
"Boo-ooth. If you don't let me go, I can't get up and go to the bedroom. And then we can't use our strings." She half-laughed, half-gasped as he nibbled a particularly ticklish spot on her neck. The pulse between her legs was growing more demanding, and she squirmed.
He finally relented, lessening his grip on her and allowing her to wiggle off his lap. With one last seductive smile, she dashed to the bedroom.
He laughed as he caught up to her, spinning her around and kissing her. "In a hurry, are we?" He reached to her chest to begin unbuttoning her top. She took a step back and clasped his hands in hers.
"Not in that much of a hurry," she chided. Then, smiling: "You first."
He looked at her dubiously. "You got something up your sleeve, hot stuff?"
She shrugged, innocently. She slid her hands under his t-shirt, appreciatively lingering on the muscles of his abs and pecs before she pulled it over his head, leaving him bare-chested before her. At the same time he unbuckled his pants, allowing an easy transition from lifting his shirt to pulling down his pants. Once nearly naked, she nearly pounced on him, knocking him backwards to lie prone on the bed, his head propped up by the pillows. He let out a throaty chuckle as she peppered his face and his chest with kisses.
"Thought we weren't in a hurry." He gasped as she licked his nipple and lightly ran her fingernails down his sides. It was his turn to squirm. She lifted her head and readjusted her position, straddling his chest.
She shrugged. "Maybe I'm hungry." She reached behind her head and untied the scarf that was holding her hair back. Her waves spilled around her face, and he was amazed at how sexy she was, even still fully clothed, sitting on top of him. He reached up to touch her face, to pull it to his own.
He was so involved in the kiss that he didn't notice her looping the one end of the scarf around his wrist. The first knot was secured before he knew what hit him. Breaking the kiss, she sat up and looped the rest of scarf around two slats of the headboard, quickly grabbing his other wrist as well. Recognition dawned on his face as she tied the second knot.
"You are kidding me," he said incredulously.
She shook her head. "Nope. Told you we were going to use our 'strings.'" She eased off of him, settling at the foot of the bed, out of his reach. She regarded him with a smile. "You have a good view?"
"No. Way. You can't do this."
"Relax, Seeley. There are much worse things. Just be quiet and don't make it harder than it has to be."
Oh, it was already hard. Hard as steel.
"We need to make sure that the sex is still good even when it's not as forbidden, right?" she reasoned. She raised up to her knees, then spread her legs as she sunk down, her bottom settling between her feet. She began to slowly unbutton her shirt.
"Do you still want to see me, Seeley? Even though it's not brand new anymore. Do you want to pull off my shirt, touch my skin?" Halfway unbuttoned now, but shirt still closed, refusing to reveal anything. "Do you want to press your lips between my breasts? Squeeze my nipples through my bra until you see how hard they get for you?"
Finally done unbuttoning, she spread her shirt open for him. He sucked in a sharp breath. It was that damn black corset that he had seen in her closet the week before. It held her ample breasts high and proud, and hugged all her curves as it tapered down to her tiny waist. She pulled no punches, did she?
"Actually…you don't need to touch my nipples for them to get hard. They're erect right now, just looking at you." She ran one of her own hands across her chest, then dipped one finger into the cup of her corset, gently stroking her own nipple. Her head fell back and she gasped lightly, drawing a similar sound from him, as well. "But I do love it when you touch them. It makes me wet, every time." She pushed the cups down, exposing herself to him. "Especially when you do it like this." She pulled her nipples and rolled them between her fingertips, and her eyes fell shut. He stared at her, entranced. Without her even touching him, the stimulation was almost unbearable.
With one hand still at her breast, she used the other to unbutton her pants and, sitting back, slowly slid out of them. Once freed, she sat spread-eagled in front of him. "When you start touching me like that, and kissing me, it's hard to control myself. My clit starts pulsing so hard I sometimes think I'm going to come just from you touching and sucking on my breasts. I wonder if that's possible? Maybe we should try it sometime."
He was staring at her darkly, and a thin sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. Every so often, he would tug on his restraints, as if forgetting they were there. He was at the same time frustrated and hypnotized. He wouldn't stop her, because if he did he might not see what comes next.
"Honestly, I usually won't have the patience for that, though. I get too anxious to have your fingers on me, in me, and your cock inside of me. You know, it wasn't too long after we started working together that I began to think about you at night. I'd start to touch myself, and before I could stop myself I'd be thinking about you, climbing naked into my bed and just taking me, rubbing me the way I was rubbing myself. I'd pretend that they were your hands on me. I always felt a little guilty about it later, but it didn't stop me from doing it again the next night." Her hand trailed from her breast, down her belly. "Do you want to see how I did that, Seeley? How I touched myself when I was fantasizing about you?"
He gulped, and nodded his head.
"I thought you might." She leaned back, supporting herself on one hand. She used the other to trace one finger lightly over her aroused nub through her silky panties. She was breathing unsteadily, now, and was making little sounds in the back of her throat as she touched herself that were driving him crazy. She restrained herself for a few seconds, using the most delicate of touches as she caressed herself. Finally, she let out a long moan and laid back fully over the bed, her head dropping back over the edge while she was spread in front of him. She pulled aside the crotch of her panties, and he could see her glistening wetness. He groaned in tandem with her. She wet her fingers in her mouth, as well. "I never could last very long," she said breathily, and began to stroke her bare flesh harder, quicker. Her fingers were almost a blur against her clit. When she began to thrust two fingers of her other into opening, her hips rising and falling as she began chanting his name, he practically lost it. This was agony. Cruelty. Ecstasy.
"Temperance," he choked out. "I'm here. No more fantasy. I'm yours."
She raised her head, panting heavily, considering this. She took in his body, straining against the binds, and his cock, which really appeared to be in dire straits. She pushed herself up back into a sitting position, dizzy with desire. She came forward, pulled off his underwear. She pulled her panties aside once more, exposing her opening. She rubbed experimentally up and down his cock, once, twice, teasing herself as much as she was him. She was way too close, and so was he. Finally, with a sigh, she lifted up her hips and impaled herself on him. She whimpered. As she began to rotate her hips on top of him, she leaned forward and, with shaky hands, untied one of his wrists. The second he was free, he sat up, and grasping her hips, thrust inside of her and pulled her to him as hard as he could.
"That. Was. So. Unfair," he said with gritted teeth, punctuating his words with his thrusts. She chose not to answer, happy to allow him to take out his frustration on her throbbing sex.
It didn't take long. Both were too close to the edge, and the burning in their bodies quickly reached a fever pitch. She bounced up and down several times, forcing him in her as deep as possible while rubbing her clit frantically against his pubic bone. He felt her begin to quiver, inside and out, and with a groan of relief allowed himself to release into her. He saw flashes of light as the almost too-intense excitement rolled from his balls, to the base of his penis, and finally exploding out of him with a rocket force. They moaned and rocked together, clinging, kissing until the need for oxygen demanded their parting.
Their rocking eventually slowed to a more gentle movement. She rested her head on his shoulder. Content. A little hungry now.
Behind her, he untied the final knot from around his wrist. Pulling away from her slightly, he held the scarf up in front of her.
"Strings? Literally, Bones?"
She chuckled. "I take most things literally. You should know that."
He shook his head, continually amazed by this woman.
"You know what else?" she whispered. He shook his head. "I'm starving. Let's eat." She climbed off of him, hunting for her robe.
"I've been starving for a long time, I think," he murmured. She barely heard him. "I think I might finally be getting full."
"Found it!" she said triumphantly, holding up her robe.
He smiled. He knew that, soon, the hunger would return. But, for now, he could leave this room with his partner and his lover, starting something new again for the hundredth time that week.
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A/N: Special thanks to Angel's Blue-Eyed Girl, who inspired me greatly with her droolicious pictures of DB nekkid in a bathtub. You are friggin awesome. Anyone else who has hot nekkid DB pictures can also feel free to send them my way. Heehee.
