Author's note: God, I love this song by Jace Everett. You may know it as the theme for True Blood, another of my favorite shows.
Now, the thing about this one shot: it fully deserves an M rating. If you are averse to a bit of kink, a bit rough sex, stay away. You have been warned.
Thank you to MickeyBoggs for the revision to the chapter.
Enjoy!
Jane
I wanna do bad things with you.
When you came in the air went out.
And every shadow filled up with doubt.
I don't know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.
I'm the kind to sit up in his room.
Heart sick an' eyes filled up with blue.
I don't know what you've done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.
When you came in the air went out.
And all those shadows there filled up with doubt.
I don't know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you.
Ow, ooh.
I don't know what you've done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you
*********************
It was a male strip joint slash male brothel. It was supposed to be a classy place so the artists- as they were called- dressed in a version of a tux. A shirtless version of a tux. Booth looked at himself in the mirror. He looked good. He looked damned good. Maybe he should reconsider his choice of career. Plus, he had heard that these guys made very good money in a very easy job. If only they were not dropping like flies at the hands of mystery woman. Bones' brain trust had come up with a five foot eleven fake redheaded woman as the probable killer. But all they had was circumstantial. So he volunteered. Well, Bones had volunteered him. If he didn't know any better, he would say that she couldn't wait to see him in that tux. Well, in your face, Bones. He looked frickin' amazing.
.
Brennan loved an undercover operation. It was as if the disguise- any disguise, really- elicited her fantasies and desires, any and all actions. She loved the adrenaline rush. And she had seen enough junkies to know she was becoming one. A junkie for adrenaline. Scientific spirit that she was, though, she had to play with the theory that it wasn't just the need for adrenaline. She had been to every major natural disaster aftermath, every major war theater in the world. And nothing, but nothing, got her adrenal glands to secrete so copiously as did an undercover mission. What was the variable in the experiment? Simple: Booth. So she had to admit that she was becoming a junkie for Booth. She smiled internally when she looked at herself in the mirror and judged the result. The dress fitted her like a glove, a deep shade of blue that made it look rich and classy, a cut over her right thigh that made her look like she was gagging for sex. The jewelery made her look like she could afford any male in that club that she wanted. Booth's jaw would certainly drop when he saw her there. He would probably have a seizure when he saw her there. He had made her promise. It had been hard lying to him. She wasn't a good liar, but the occasion called for it. Besides, she was the one who could better identify the killer. And he should know that. Eat you heart out, Booth, I look amazing.
.
Booth leaned against the bar. The music in the club was lurid and suggestive. He tried to gently dissuade the many females that were looking for his company. Well, looking to pay for his services. It did wonders for his ego. But he needed to keep an eye on the door for a woman corresponding to the description Bones had given him. It was all going relatively well. So far none of the women had been too insistent and the price tag he was sporting on his sleeve- another of the club's trade marks- had been deterrent enough for the more audacious. It was turning out very well. Until he saw the tall woman in the dark blue dress walking in through the door. He would kill her. He would personally put his hands around her pretty neck and squeeze until he was happy that she would no longer do this to him. And just what exactly was this, the annoying little voice of his conscience asked him. Was it the rage burning inside him because she had disobeyed him (like she would ever just "obey") or that increasing pressure in his balls, in fact, in his whole crotch area? He tried to take his eyes off her cleavage. And man, thank God she didn't usually show that much cleavage otherwise he would have already had a quadruple bypass fitted to his poor heart. And what was it with the heels? They were high. They were really fuck me high. And they made her legs look like they went on forever and remind him at the top of her legs there was heaven. And then for his benefit, oh he was sure she was doing it on purpose, she turned on her heel and graced him with a view of her bottom, her glorious bottom. They would have to have a little conversation about that particular dress. How was he supposed to concentrate now? Concentrate on the door, that is, because he could concentrate on her for the rest of the whole damned night. He signaled the bartender for a double shot of Jack. The liquid fire running down his throat helped soothe his nerves. As did the promise he made himself- she would pay.
.
Brennan knew, the moment she felt his eyes on her, that she was going to be in trouble. He had murder in his eyes. Was it that she was there against his orders or the dress? She hoped it was the dress but would bet on her little escapade against his wishes. She walked past him to the bar and gave him a measuring look. Wow. That tux was... was... wow. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, in her neck; she felt her nipples perk up against the velvet of her dress. She gave him a measuring look, head to toe as if she were admiring a rug in a market. Then she moved to the bar and signaled the bartender for a double shot of Jack. Beer just wouldn't do. Across the room a young blond thing, couldn't be more than 25, spotted her. Hair perfectly arranged around his smiley face, a sun bed tan and gym grown muscles. He did not look bad. Not at all. A bit artificial, that was all. And he smiled at her and ran his hand from his neck across his naked chest to his belt. That tux was a real asset. When he was sure he had her attention, his hand grabbed his crotch, the signal unmistakable. He was as good as any, she thought. So she ordered him a drink and walked past Booth to sit on one of the many couches spread around the room.
.
Booth felt the air being sucked out of him. Her perfume lingered behind her when she walked past. His knuckles turned white around the glass as the little prick he'd seen eying her as a mark across the room picked up the drink she had ordered for him and followed her to the couch. He hoped and prayed that the killer would come in and find him fast. He just wanted to pick Bones up and take her home- where he'd proceed to show her just how displeased he was. It was going to be a long night. Either that or, please, someone start a bar fight because then he could just start punching his way towards the boy- because he was nothing but a boy- and beat the shit out of him just for daring to touch Bones, let alone grope her and have the audacity of running his hand up the cut of her shameless dress. And what was that? Why didn't she do something? The kid was practically over her, kissing her, whispering- at least he hoped it was just whispering- in her ear and she gave that sexy laughter that had no place being laughed like that in that idiot's presence let alone to him. She ought to be kicking his sorry ass for daring to touch her. The boy should be on the floor writhing in pain. Instead, his heart was the one writhing in pain, burning the green fury of jealousy. He was saved by the bell- in that instance, by a tall redheaded woman that approached him.
.
Across the bar, Brennan perked up. That woman approaching Booth, she could be it. All the markers were there. It could be- it probably was the killer they were after. She hadn't expected that, those sinuous curves, the generous neckline of the dress, the undulating curves of her breasts under the silk of the red dress that should never have looked good on her. When the woman's red nails ran the distance between Booth's neck and navel, Brennan was entirely sure that she had spotted the killer. Why was Booth smiling at her? Why wasn't he just slapping the cuffs on her and searching her for concealed weapons? Why did he look like he was enjoying himself? Had he no conception of just how much danger he was in? Apparently not, because his finger trailed the woman's bare shoulder all the way down to her hand and, once there, took her fingers delicately in his and kissed her hand. For far longer that it should have been. The woman was melting like ice cream in August. Honey trap indeed. She hadn't understood the meaning of the sentence until that very moment. She wanted to take Booth out of there, beat the hell out of him for good measure just because he was being so reckless as to flirt with a killer that had already decided that he was her next victim. He was flirting with disaster- and right in front of her. And he would pay for that. Trying to control her anger and the boiling in her blood as Booth was led by the killer to a sofa just opposite hers, she pulled the boy way from her and was ready to march over to Booth, arrest the woman herself and then just deck him and vent off her anger. Providence intervened. The man, feeling his grip on Brennan slip, went down on his knees at her feet. Around them, indubitably sex moans were raising in volume. It was a policy of the club that the visitors were entitled to a free sample and he intended to give the beautiful brunette a sample she would not forget. His tongue and lips traced little wet lines up her thighs. Not bad- for a boy.
.
Booth sat in his own couch facing Bones. It was probably a mistake, because right there and then, seeing her being groped like that by a boy- and enjoying it was more than he could take. He did not object when the suspect straddled him and nestled in the crook of his neck.
.
Brennan cringed. That crook of Booth's neck was hers to nestle in. When he hugged her, it was there that she hid her face. Her hands reached for the boy's hair and pulled him towards her.
.
Oh God, give me strength. What the hell was she thinking? Those were his legs to kiss. And was that little idiot smelling her most intimate parts? Oh, he was throwing his ass in jail for solicitation and whatever else he could think of. He grabbed the red head and ran his hands across her torso. His fingers found her nipples and rubbed.
.
Across the room, Brennan felt a curious phenomenon: Booth's hands were on her breasts, not on that cheap imitation of a woman. Her hands reached up from the boy's hair to her breasts and she massaged them through the dress helping Booth's desired fingers.
.
The gesture did not go unnoticed by Booth. He registered the flushed cheeks and the blue eyes caught on his and he knew that she was aroused. His hands no longer groped the breasts of a killer. Even at the distance of a whole smoke filled, loud room, it was Bones that he touched and Bones that he smelled and Bones that he kissed. Come for me baby, he mouth at her.
.
Yes. She'd come for him. He just needed to say the magic words. And then the killer got up and slipped Booth a number of bills and that was what she'd been dreading the whole night. Booth would be alone with a cold-hearted killer and he would be in danger. She took out a stack of one hundred dollar bills from her cleavage. She didn't even count. She just handed them out to the man. He took her hand and led her to the private rooms upstairs- right behind Booth. Suddenly she was in a rush. The man smiled to himself. She was going to be good. Explosive. He might even throw in a freebie, just for his own gratification.
.
Joe prided himself in being a pro. He was clean, nice to his clients and he had a huge repertoire guaranteed to please all walks of life. Nothing much shocked him any more. He was savvy. But when he tried to lead the gorgeous brunette to his appointed room, he was surprised. She nearly decked him and rushed past to the door just closing behind a couple- the new guy and a gorgeous red head he'd seen earlier. It shocked the hell out of him when he heard all hell breaking loose inside that room. And it froze his blood when she shouted "You are under arrest, put the gun down". Fearing for his own freedom, he ran, ran as fast as could down the fire exit. If the cops were doing a sweep on this place, he wanted out. The last thing he heard was a dull thud on the floor and spark of red hair spilling to the floor.
.
Lena had been born and raised a good girl. Sometime, somewhere, her mind had fractured. There was a part of her that knew that what she was doing was not good. But there was a part, a very dominant part of her that rejoiced with every kill. Why male whores? No way to tell. Shrinks could probably tell her, explain it all to her. But never was she as much in control, as much as the seductress she'd always wanted to be as when she put on a sexy dress and went pout hunting, as she referred to her nights. She hadn't even been trying not to get caught. She hadn't even worried about concealing any evidence. It had just happened that way. And somehow, as time when by, her fractured mind had taken it as a sign that it was okay what she was doing because no one had caught up with her. So she was surprised when that woman entered the room she was about to have sex in with an Adonis and even more surprised when she had yelled "You are under arrest". It had probably been her flight instinct taking over, because, no matter how hopeless she had known the situation to be, she had still attempted to escape- which had earned her a tumble at high speed towards the carpet. Oh well, she thought, it was nice while it lasted.
.
Booth was livid. He was furious. Bones had just overstepped the mark and she would have to be put in her place. What the hell was she thinking, marching into the room like that and arresting a gun carrying killer without so much as a bullet proof vest or a gun of her own? In fact, why was she even there? He had told her and told her to stay home, to stay out of that. He forgot about the suspect on the floor and he pulled her violently by the arm against a wall. What the hell were you thinking?
.
She hated people in her face like that. It was an invasion of her personal space and not even the fact that he was Booth excused him. Especially not when she was so furious she was actually seeing red wavering lines. So she pushed him way from her with a violent jerk of her arms.
.
The back up team chose that moment to burst into the room. Someone picked up the suspect from the floor and walked out. All the others were slightly embarrassed and self conscious. The energy in the air fooled no one. Those two would either kill each other or fuck each other's brains out. Either way, it was private. They walked out one by one and the door closed behind the last one.
.
"You had no right. I told you to stay home!" Booth was so upset he could hardly think straight, let alone get into an argument with her. "You come in here without any protection and just confront a killer. A serial killer. A killer that I'm about to arrest. What the hell is wrong with you?" He yelled so close to her face she couldn't even turn her face.
.
Brennan thought vaguely that he must have been truly upset, because his pupils were dilated and that vein in his forehead was pulsating very, very fast. And yet, she could not bring herself to even care. "Who the hell are you to talk? You walk into a room alone with a killer- not even a bullet proof vest." Her tone was rising menacingly and she was starting to resent the prison of his arms against the wall. She pushed back. He resisted. "And your hands were all over her. It hadn't occurred to me that you'd be enjoying this assignment quite so much." And the more she thought about it, the more she visualized his hands running through the red bodice of the dress of the other woman- no matter that it was on the job- the more irked she felt and it was as if the anger was feeding on itself like a snow ball turning into an avalanche.
"It was an assignment. An assignment, get it, Bones?"
"An assignment you were enjoying far too much. I saw it, I saw your gait when she pulled you up to bring you here. You were turned on by her, you rat bastard"
"Can you blame me?" He should have known better. In fact, he did, because the moment the words were out he knew it. It was not anticipation, but certainty. Brennan raised her hand and landed it in a solid slap to his face with a satisfying smacking sound.
"Bastard." And she tried to wiggle free of his hard pinning hands. The more she struggled, the stronger was his hold on her. Her knee jumped up trying to catch him in his balls. He had anticipated the movement and evaded her.
"You're one to talk. You think I didn't see that piece of shit all over you? You think I didn't see you getting wet for him? I could smell you from where I was"
"That would be one of your miracles, with the way she smelled, with the way she was all over you." This time Brennan succeeded in freeing her wrists. Payback was coming. She used her leg to unbalance Booth and pressed him against the wall. He humored her for a second. Let her think that she can hold me back.
"I can still smell him on you, Bones, but you like that, don't you, you like the choice and the games." When he tried to break free of her he found it was not quite so easy. "I saw him crawling up your dress." He grunted in effort, pushing at her. "I saw him fingering you" and with the thought propelling him, he broke free and tossed her against the wall with a violent, angry thump. "Tell me, Bones, did you enjoy that? And he pinned her hands above her head. Have you been missing that kind of meaningless sex?" He ducked as she tried to bite him and his hands only held her more securely. His now free hand dived under her dress.
Brennan fought against his invading hand. She could see the anger and the resolve in his eyes. She couldn't quite answer that. Not now. She was too mad. His hand found her underwear and pulled at it violently, ripping the delicate material from her in a single tug. Her legs wobbled under his strength. It was getting difficult to breathe. She tried to push at him but Booth's finger slid inside her cruelly, forcefully. And it felt too fucking good. She bit back a moan of pleasure. And another when his thumb found her clit and pressed it. His mouth moved into hers. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to invade her mouth and obliterate any traces of that low life scum bag who had dared to touch her. She avoided the kiss. She wanted it. She wanted to kiss him. But she wanted it on her terms. This was too much like him winning. And she be damned if she'd allow it. When he tried again, she made to bite him. His hand with the probing finger held her in place without breaking the rhythm of his finger fucking and held her against the wall. God, she felt damned good, all wet and wanting and, okay, maybe not quite willing- yet, but give him time and she would.
Brennan bided her time, trying to resist the assault of his probing finger, fighting back the urge and the waves of pleasure that coursed through her. In one moment, she seized her opportunity and her hands slid free. She pushed Booth and without losing their balance, they tumbled onto the carpeted floor, Brennan on top, her body ablaze.
"Maybe I did enjoy the meaningless sex. So what? You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself. Where were all your convictions when you were almost inside her- in front of everybody? How did her lunch taste? Because your tongue was all the way down her throat, Booth. Did you enjoy that? Was she better than me?" And her mouth captured his in a cruel kiss, her teeth biting into his lip until he gasped, and her knee pressed just a little more between his legs, preventing him from moving under penalty of injury to his manhood.
"I hated you Booth. I still do. How come you kissed her like that?" and her mouth probed and found his ear and bit once more there. Her hand traveled down until she found the easy opening of his pants and her hand slid inside and grabbed his penis. "How could you have your hands all over her? You smell like her, like cheap perfume, like death." And her hand pumped him hot and tight and he gasped in surprise.
"You volunteered me, Bones." Booth struggled to get his voice out of his throat. He would not concede her victory this easy. "You're wet, I could feel you. Are you wet because of him, Bones?" Her hand cupped his sac and she squeezed making him wince. No. She wasn't wet because of the kid. She was wet because of him, Booth, because even with two people and a room in between them, it had been his hands over her that she had craved and his mouth on her mound that she had wanted and his smell that she coveted.
"No." Brennan surrendered.
Booth released his hands from her and got a grip on her hips and swiftly inverted the positions, pinning her underneath him. "Tell me who you were wet for, Bones" and his hands ripped at the cut on her dress.
"No."
"No?" And he slid between her legs. "Tell me that you were wet for me Bones. I saw you were ready to come. Like you come for me every time. Tell me Bones." And his hand released his dick from the confines of the all the clothes in between them. "Tell me." And he raised her up to him with a hand under her ass. Brennan's breathing was all over the place, shallow and deep, ragged hiccups and deep sighs. There was fire in her eyes. She hated him at that moment, he could tell. He waited for her answer.
Brennan needed him inside her. She needed him as fiercely as she fought him.
"YOU!"
"What Bones?"
"You! You told me to come for you. I was wet for you." And that was all it took. Booth plunged inside her, not gentle, not kind, not lovable. Just urgent animal greed. And for every single one of his greedy plunges, she met him with a thrust of her own. She wanted to be inside and all over him, all at the same time. Her mouth clamped on his shoulder and her teeth sank there, giving her some anchor to reality, because she was about to lose her north and any sense of direction of where she was coming from and where she was going, there was only his body plunging inside her and that fever raging inside her like a fire, an anger so absolute that she could not possibly hold in check if she stayed still.
"Bones," he grunted in her ear, and his mouth clamped around her neck, kissing her just below her ear and getting lost in the heat of the anger, his lips clamped shut and just sucked at her skin because it was the only way that he would not lose himself in her. He rolled her atop him and looked her in the eyes. Giddy on that momentary surrender of his, Brennan rode him, forcefully, whole heartedly, getting lost in each of her plunges as if she was the one filling him, but feeling complete each time she felt him against her depths, pressing, huge, all consuming. She had lost any semblance of orientation and there was only his face and his eyes and told him, "Don't you ever do this to me again, don't you ever get yourself in danger. I hate you for this Booth, I hate you," and red hot tears stung her eyes and all she could do was plunge and withdraw because it dulled the pain of knowing she could have so easily lost him that night.
"It's OK, though, Bones, because I love you. You're OK to hate me, baby," and his mouth closed over hers and this time, the kiss was slow and tentative and his tongue worked to sooth her and his arms pulled her to his chest and their hearts were beating in tandem. Brennan choked a sound, somewhere between a sob and laughter. Booth raised from the floor to a sitting position and cradled her ass in his hand. With his free one, he cradled her face and he saw that she was close, so close, that he could almost taste it; he could feel her muscles tensing up around him and squeezing him in the most delicious of hugs. "Come for me Bones. Come for me baby," She wanted, and though she had been tethering that line, she couldn't, it wasn't just right, it wasn't the moment yet. Not before. Only after.
"Then tell, me Booth. Oh God, please tell me!" And the despair in Brennan's voice did it for him, pushed him to the edge of the cliff and there was just one more thing.
"Come for me, my love. Come. For. Me"
"Yes." Her muscles started to quaver around him. "Oh God, yes, Booth!" And one final plunge and Booth jumped over the edge of that precipice and his seed shot hot and greedy into her, giving her that exquisite final wave she'd never known before she could experience just from feeling a man's pleasure. Then she collapsed onto his chest and was cradled in his arms as he slid to a laying position on the floor and just stayed there, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, sweaty and breathless.
.
.
"Don't you ever do this to me, Booth."
"Next time we investigate and need a honey trap, I'll send a single agent," Booth smiled, making light of the fear in her words
"No, Booth. That's not what I meant and you know it."
"It's my job, Bones. I can't not do it." And his hand stroked her hair nearly as much to soothe her as to soothe himself.
"Then you can bet that I'll find a way to be around." And she hugged him just a little tighter.
"You'll have my back, you mean?" She nodded. His back and all the rest of him.
"Yeah, pretty much." Booth considered that for a moment. Then his hands started roving up and down her, the bodice of her dress and tracing her cleavage and tempting bottom. He ground himself into her and Brennan felt not without some trepidation that he was hardening inside her again.
"Not in a dress like this. Or I will have to punish you." And that was just fine with her.