Thanks everyone for being so patient with me! I know I'm super behind on my review replies. As soon as I post this, I'm going to start working on them. I figured you'd want this chapter more than a reply from me, however. :) Plus, it's a LONG chapter. And especially because... well, there's a little nookie in this one. :) Note the M rating. It's not just for language anymore.

Chapter 11

Angela grinned at the man across the scuffed table from her. She made a grab for her Dos Equis, having never liked beer much until this very night. It was warm, but tangy, and she didn't much mind it when it made Chase look so attractive. When they'd first arrived at the bar, he'd lost some major points, but four beers later, he was forgiven.

Chase Duranceau looked hot and she knew she did. They practically burned up the table. He'd been charming all evening, paying for their drinks and letting her pick both of their appetizers.

She leaned in a little, smiling when he did the same. She had originally agreed to let him take her to dinner because she wanted to see for herself Chase's character. She hadn't forgotten Booth's words of warning, and if she found out that Chase was anything less than the upstanding gentlemen he appeared to be, she'd cut off his dick.

Giggling a little at the grotesque thought, Angela dimly realized that she might be a little intoxicated. She had definitely decided that Chase was A-OK though. He looked so damn fine tonight. Mmmm… Her thoughts blurred a little, as she thought about her roommate. She'd barely even seen Brennan in the past few weeks. She'd spent every spare moment at Booth's place. That was usually fine, but it wasn't any fun to have roomie movie nights when it was just Angela and the pint of Cherry Garcia.

Forcing her petulant thoughts aside, Angela was beginning to seriously wonder what had gone on at that party so long ago. All she'd known is that one day Brennan had been fine and normal, and the next, she was all starry-eyed because of Seeley Booth. Something had happened that night, and Chase had ended up beaten by the end of it.

Booth's words echoed in her head, even above the loud chatter and the piano man taking requests on the stage.

Chase Duranceau was taking advantage of her at that party. Whatever he's told you, it's a lie, okay? A lie.

The words sobered her somewhat, as she remembered the vehemence and utter conviction in his voice. Wait, Chase was speaking to her.

"—roommate been doing lately?"

Angela drew a blank on what he'd been saying, and squinted at him, wordlessly asking him to repeat himself. Chase chuckled, reaching across the table to link their fingers.

"I said, what have you and your roommate been doing lately? I've noticed she hasn't been to class lately and I've been kind of concerned about her. Has she been sick?"

Just like that, her anger was back, Booth's words pushed to the back of her head. She'd been missing classes? That was not acceptable. She was Temperance Brennan, not…. Angela Montenegro! Angela could skip classes. Brennan could not. Christ, Brennan thrived in class. She was the only girl Angela knew who actually enjoyed getting assigned term papers.

Looking up for the first time in a few long minutes, she met Chase's eyes over their empty beer bottles. His eyes were ocean blue and guileless, fringed with gorgeous eyelashes. Nature had really laid it on thick with this guy.

"What's wrong, Ange?" He asked, his voice whispering over her like the smoothest liquor.

"Oh, it's just," Angela hesitated, and then took a fortifying gulp of her beer. Enough was enough. She was pissed at Brennan. Chase was just going to have to sit and listen. "Ugh. It's just Brennan, my roommate. I can't believe she's been missing classes."

Chase raised one eyebrow, signaling discreetly to their waitress to bring them two more beers. "You didn't know?"

"Of course I didn't know," Angela exploded, glaring at him balefully. "How can I know anything about my roommate when I haven't seen her for more than two seconds in weeks? She's practically living at Seeley Booth's house."

The moment the last sentence was out of her mouth, she regretted it. She didn't want Chase to think Brennan was a slut. She was pretty sure Brennan and Booth weren't actually doing it.

Pretty sure, anyways.

"Seeley Booth?" Chase bit out, looking upset.

Angela winced. "I don't like it much either. She's tutoring him in biology or something."

The frown on Chase's face deepened. "Yeah. Biology. More like anatomy."

"Hey, it's not like that," Angela reprimanded him sharply. She didn't like Chase thinking bad things about Brennan. She was the only one she wanted doing that.

"Oh how is it like then, Angela? Do you honestly think Seeley Booth has her over at his place day and night to talk with her? Because he likes her company? C'mon, you gotta know he's probably banging her."

The vulgarity looked as out of place coming from Chase's firm lips as coarse language from a child. He looked like an angel, but Angela didn't like the things coming from his mouth.

"Excuse me, Duranceau, but that's my best friend you're talking about," she said, standing up sharply. The ground swayed below her, and she stumbled, catching onto the table for support.

Chase gave her a conciliatory smile that didn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry Angela, sit back down. Here, I'll get you another drink." He returned a minute later with a glass filled with ice and an amber liquid. "An iced tea. You might want to slow down with the drinking."

Glaring at him, Angela snatched the tea and took a sip. "There's alcohol in this," she said, her head still whirling from her quick jump upwards.

"It's called a Long Island Iced Tea," Chase explained. "Hardly any alcohol. So about Brennan. You say she's been spending her nights with Booth?"

Angela nodded hesitantly, her mind whirling. Chase looked both gorgeous and dangerous now, like some kind of veil had shifted off of him. She didn't like the way his jaw set so tightly, and the way he smiled through it. It looked creepy.

"I can't believe she'd choose that fucker over me," Chase hissed, taking a long swig of his beer. When Angela made a move to stand up again, Chase casually reached a hand over and yanked her back down. Hard.

Her elbows slammed on the wood table and she could feel the bruising pressure of his phantom fingers on her wrist. Angela made another move to leave, but Chase simply grabbed her wrist again, his fingers tightening painfully over the spots where finger shaped bruises were already forming.

"Sit down, bitch. Why would she choose someone like Booth over someone like me?" he asked this with a sort of calm intensity that scared Angela to death. She opened her mouth to yell at him, when he suddenly smacked her hard across the face, her cry muffled by the crowd.

"Say anything and I'll fucking hit you again," Chase warned. He stood, throwing some bills on the table and dragging her up with him. Her cheek burned, but before the bruise could even form, Chase leaned over and grinded his lips against hers, a grin forming on his face when she struggled. "I like it rough, Ange."

Angela's thoughts spiraled wildly, her heart slamming against her chest. Dear God. Booth had been right. Booth had been right. Duranceau was a madman. She shoved against him, pushing him away with all her strength. He didn't even budge.

Whimpering a little in distress, and nauseated beyond belief, Angela braced herself to bite down hard on his lip, waiting for the taste of blood to explode in her mouth.

Suddenly the cruel, bruising pressure on her lips was gone, and she opened her eyes wide as someone grabbed Duranceau and shoved him away from her. Quick as lighting, Chase had doubled back and punched her savior square in the face, and the man went down like a sack of potatoes.

Angela had only a glimpse of Duranceau's cruel smile as he turned and sauntered away. People were crowding her and her hero, finally having noticed a commotion in their midst.

Ignoring the pain exploding in her cheek, Angela crawled across the sawdust-covered floor to the man who had saved her. He had blood streaming down his nose, obscuring the lower part of his face, but she'd know those blonde curls anywhere.

"Jack Hodgins," she said, looking down at him with a smile on her face. It hurt, but that was okay. Jack Hodgins looked pretty frightening, sawdust and peanut shells in his hair and twin streams of bright vermillion streaking from his nose. His nose was already turning an impressive shade of purple. "My hero," she said, brushing the worst of the sawdust and who knows what else from his hair. She helped him sit up, tilting his head back gently to try and stop the bleeding.

"Hi Angela," he said, his voice muffled. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

His lighthearted words, designed to make her smile, made tears spring to her eyes. "You're a brave man, Jack. Thanks for your help." She was horrified to find that she was sniffling. She'd never been hit before. It wasn't so much that it hurt… the shock of it though, the blinding betrayal was wrecking havoc with her nerves.

"Don't just STAND there, get me some ice and napkins," Angela suddenly yelled at the crowd, dispersing them like bowling pins with the bite in her voice.

She moved Hodgin's head to rest on her shoulder, keeping his head back as she dabbed at the blood coating his jawline and nose. For some reason the man had this big smile on his face, as genuine as she now knew Chase's had been false.

"What're you smiling at? You just got punched in the face in a bar," Angela said, his smile almost infectious. Almost.

"You're an angel," Hodgins replied simply, giving her that silly grin. Angela paused, checking his head for any contusions.

"I need a phone," Angela demanded, after she had cleaned up the worst of Hodgin's blood. "Now."

Hodgins tossed her one, and she was startled to find it was her own.

"How did you—nevermind. Jack, we've got to call Brennan and warn her that Duranceau's looking for her." She pressed the phone to her ear, cursing like a sailor when it went straight to voicemail.

"She has the damn thing off. What is the point of a cell phone if you ever turn it off?"

"Where would she be?"

"Seeley Booth's place."

"Well let's get the hell there," Hodgins said gamely, straightening with a groan. He grabbed a handful of tissues in case his nose busted open again—a very distinct possibility—and dragged her to the door. "Let's go sound the alarms."

Booth was finding it very hard to think.

"Uhhmmm… The Galapagos…. The Beagle…. Darwin."

Booth groaned his appreciation as his biology tutor proceeded to reward his correct answer with a slow, deep kiss that left him stunned and hard as a rock. Brennan was sitting sideways on his lap, one hand around his neck, the other possessively on the biology book.

"I'm not sure I should count that as a correct answer. That was more of a stream of consciousness exercise," Brennan joked, her eyes bright with merriment. He'd missed her, God.

"You know Bones, I'm feeling a lot more charitable toward biology with those kinds of incentives," Booth joked, trying to discreetly shift her on his lap so she wouldn't feel his erection. By the way she was grinning at him, with a sort of devious tilt to her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, he knew he'd failed.

He hoped to God Jared would stay in the bathroom and not come back out. He'd hate to scar the kid for life. Luckily, his brother was famous for his hour-long baths, in which he'd steal all the hot water, splash around in the tub, sing and generally have the time of his life.

Booth suddenly slammed the book shut and gathered her in his arms, grinning as she shrieked her displeasure. Brennan pretended she was above enjoying being schlepped around like a caveman's mate, but he knew better. He mock-growled and deposited her on the bed, kissing her protesting lips.

"This is my kind of biology," he laughed, skimming his palm down her arm until he could tangle their fingers together. She shivered at the friction of his callused palm against her skin, pulling back a moment to look into his eyes.

Booth was wearing a white T-shirt with his black basketball shorts, and to the casual observer, she knew he looked dangerous. The griffon tattoo gleamed on his tanned bicep, drawing her gaze to the ropes of muscle filling out his arms and chest. He hadn't shaved yet, and a delicious five o clock shadow dusted his strong jaw. His eyes were dark, nearly hooded as he stared at her, his laughter giving way to his own lusty perusal of her.

She felt her stomach contract, with butterflies or something much bigger. Brennan moved her free hand to cup his jaw, letting his stubble tickle her palm as her fingers stroked delicately at the tender place where his jawline met his ear.

"Booth," she murmured, watching his eyelids flutter as she stroked his face. Amazing. A few deft strokes of her fingertips and the bad boy was down for the count, practically purring in her arms.

"Yes?" he murmured. His fingers tightened on hers infinitesimally.

"How old were you when you first, uh, you know."

Booth froze, wondering if she was really asking what he thought she was asking. In his brief silence, Brennan started talking again, making her point clear.

"Had sex. Sexual intercourse," she clarified, leaning forward against him to hide her blush in his big shoulder.

Booth sighed, rubbing his jaw. She wanted to know about his sex life. Great. He felt her nose poke his chest as she burrowed against him, and he could see the flush turning the tips of her ears pink. Booth couldn't help but smile, a tender, affectionate smile that felt unfamiliar on his lips.

He pulled her out from the refuge of his shoulder and leaned back against the headboard, tucking her under his arm. Their feet stretched out on the bed, hers ending quite a bit before his. He stared at the bright pink nail polish on her toes for a long while before he answered.

"And I want to know how many girls, too," she added, before she lost her nerve. Booth glanced at her sharply, and she gave him a small smile that had him groaning in defeat.

"Booones," he drew her nickname out, hoping but not really believing her could get her to forget the line of questioning if he teased her. Nope. She was having none of it.

"Fine," Booth sighed, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "I lost my virginity when I was fifteen."

Brennan swallowed hard. "That young?" Then, before her eyes, something miraculous happened. He was blushing.

"Yes, that young," he repeated, scrubbing his hair with his hand in a way she realized he did when he was uncomfortable. "She was a few years older than me. I was mowing the grass at her dad's house when one day she just pulled me in the shed and… well," he trailed off.

"Did you see her again after that?"

Booth shook his head, looking a little less uncomfortable now that the truth was out there. "No, I mean I tried. I was infatuated with her. But I guess she was just scratching an itch."

He was unprepared for the sudden fury that erupted in his arms. Brennan whirled out from her comfortable perch under his arm to face him. "She took your virginity to scratch an itch? What kind of vile, perverted girl would do such a thing to a fifteen year old!"

Watching her rile up at his behalf, Booth felt his heart swell, and he hauled her back to him. "It doesn't matter, Brennan," he murmured in her ear, squeezing her tightly against his chest. "Nothing matters but the here and now. I love you, sweetheart," he whispered, the words popping out before he could claw them back. She froze in his arms, backing up stare at him.

She looked so young in that instant, he thought, that his heart hurt. God, he really did love her. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail, her lips were a little swollen from their kisses, and her blue eyes were wide.

"Say it again," she said, biting her lip.

"I love you." The words came easier a second time. She closed her eyes and smiled, and when she opened them, she saw that he was looking at her with that affectionate smile he sometimes gave her. Well, he pretty much always gave her that smile. She snuggled back against him. He didn't seem to expect the words back, and she didn't know if she was ready to say them. She was, however, ready for something else.

"Booth," she murmured, running her fingers along his thigh. She watched in fascination as the muscles clenched then relaxed, and she could feel his breathing hitch and do the same.

"Yes?"

"Be my first and make love to me," she whispered. She could feel him jerk next to her, her words obviously shocking him. "I know Jared's here, so not now, but… soon, Booth."

She craned her neck to look at him, and she could see that she'd pretty much bowled him over. His mouth was open and he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"Brennan, you don't need to feel pressured just because I said I love you," he said, kissing her hair and trying to steady his breathing. "I'll wait as long as you want, Bones. Forever, if I have to, because we have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere."

"Booth, I am ready," she said, shaking her head at his obtuseness. "Why do you think I asked you all those questions?" She paused, trying to decide what part of his words she needed to tackle next. Now that the truth was out, it was much easier to look at this empirically and with logic. "I'm not letting you out on that 'how many' question, either, mister, but we can talk about that later. Right now… It's true, Booth. I know… I know you want to protect me, but I want my first to be you. I don't trust anyone but you to make it less like biology and more like… breaking the laws of physics."

"Breaking the laws of physics?" Booth couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. "Is that a science-y come on?"

"No, it's like…" she froze, trying to think of the right word. She couldn't grip it, but it was right there. She met Booth's eyes and saw that the humor had fled from them.

"A miracle?" he finished for her, his voice rough.

She nodded.

Booth groaned and pulled her to him, letting her head rest on his chest while he intertwined their fingers and rested their joined hands on his abdomen. "Brennan, how is it that you know just what to say to turn me into a mess?" he murmured into her hair. The air from the fan beat lazily, ruffling their hair.

"Talent, I guess," she said, her eyes weighing down in comfort. She felt like a great weight had been taken off her chest now that she'd finally told Booth what she wanted. She didn't know if he had acquiesced or not, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't take much convincing. Besides, now he was thinking about it, which was just pure fun in its own right.

He surprised her though, by speaking in a low voice near her ear, his voice rough as sandpaper. "If I was making love to you right now, you know what I'd do first?"

Brennan gasped at his words, and then melted back into him, trying to contain her wildly jumping pulse. "What?" she mouthed, the words coming out as a squeak.

He growled low in her ear before continuing, the vibrations from his words rumbling through her. "I'd take off every stitch of your clothing, Brennan, and just look at you until you couldn't stand the heat of my gaze a minute longer," he said, giving her hand a chaste pat.

She moaned, a soft little sound that startled her because she'd never made it before.

"And then, I'd kiss every inch of you, because I love your taste," he murmured. "Starting at your temple, where your smarty pants brain would be whirring a mile a minute and moving to your cheeks, your ears, your nose," he paused, looking down on her seriously. "Did you know I love your nose, Bones? It's so damn cute."

"No, I wasn't aware," she mumbled breathlessly, waiting for him to continue. She was tingling all over and his hands were still innocently clasping hers. Every so often he'd rub them a little.

"And then your mouth, Brennan. I'd spend forever there, tasting you. You're so sweet, baby."

She couldn't even protest the nickname. This had all started to abruptly, but now she was turned on beyond reason and they were barely touching.

"By the time I'd reach your breasts, you'd be panting and crying out, Brennan. And by that time you know I wouldn't be able to take much more of it either. Your hands would be pulling at my shirt and I'd help you, but as soon as the damn thing was gone, I'd be suckling your breasts, desperate to taste you there, too."

Booth stretched beneath her, and she could feel the ridge of his erection pressing against her bottom. He seemed unphased by it, however, and continued speaking.

"So soft, Bones. It'd be torture to leave your breasts, but your belly, and… lower," he let out a dark chuckle that made her moan again, a little louder. "How could I resist you there? Because I can smell your arousal, Bones, and it's making me so damn hot I can't even remember my own name," he gasped, his voice a little unsteady for the first time. She couldn't even tell if he was still speaking about the story or present time. She was drenched, and he probably could smell her.

"You'd want me down there, Bones. You'd push my head down between your legs and demand it. And God, how can I deny you the thing I want most of all?"

Brennan whimpered, and she wanted to touch herself. Booth was keeping a firm grip on her hands, however, so she pressed back against him, trying to find a counterpressure for the ache between her thighs.

"You'd see my dark head beneath your ivory thighs, but you wouldn't know what to expect," Booth said raggedly, finding it harder to concentrate with her grinding against his very real erection. "I'd, ah, I'd taste you then, and Christ," Booth let out a curse as Brennan tugged her hand from his and he watched it disappear beneath her sweatpants. He could see the outline of her through her pants, rubbing her clit.

"Fuck," he murmured, finding that he couldn't finish his story. He instead wrapped his hands more firmly around her, exhaling into her neck and watching her for a moment in her uninhibited passion. Seconds later she stiffened and let out a breathless cry that he stifled with a kiss. He was unbearably hard and in danger of coming right then and there. How had this gotten so out of control? He had just been trying to tease her, to try and test how ready she was—oh!

Brennan had turned in his arms to face him and was panting into his shoulder, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. He tried to make a grab for her fingers when he saw where they were headed, but they wrapped around his penis through the flimsy material of his basketball shorts before he could stop her, and he let out a loud groan that he knew Jared probably heard but, oh sweet Jesus—

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Booth froze, the sound jolting him violently from his imminent eruption. He met Brennan's wide-eyed gaze and was opening his mouth to speak when the door busted in, wood splintering everywhere.

His gaze flew to the door and he shoved himself in front of Brennan, horror darkening his features.

No! It couldn't be. Not now. Not… now.

Whew. Writing the slightest bit of smut is like pulling teeth for me. I love to read it, but man is it ever hard to write.