The restaurant was crowded. Very crowded. The place known for the best BBQ in the DC area was always a scene. Booth and Brennan nudged forward into the waiting area, and after Booth gave his name to the hostess, they found a niche to stand in near the door. Because of all that had happened that day (and the night before) they were both feeling the need to keep a bit of distance between them until they could talk, but in the current jam of people that wasn't possible. After more people came in, another few steps together to avoid passersby, they found themselves face-to-face, inches apart. The tips of her breasts brushed the front of his t-shirt and he felt his cock immediately harden. If he had to stand this near her for very long, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from reaching for her hips and crushing her to him.
They made small talk, sensing the moment for real discussion would happen after a beer or two. Brennan, feeling herself swoon as soon as she made contact with Booth, crossed her arms in front of her, hoping it would create some distance. There was a lot they both needed to say, and touching each other was a sure fire way to avoid a much needed discussion.
The conversation faded as they both concentrated on keeping their own bodies in check. Brennan turned to survey the crowd, but her mind went back to an hour before when she was getting ready for this "date." Normally, she spent very little time getting ready for anything: throwing on appropriate clothes, running a brush through her hair and maybe putting on mascara. But today she left work early so she could get a manicure and pedicure, and after her shower, found herself rubbing down with body butter and spritzing on perfume. She tried not to think too hard about what she was doing, but it was pretty obvious once she dug out her sexiest bra and undies. She'd only purchased them at Christmas, on a whim, tired of her standard underwear fare. The crimson lace bra's deep plunge and low back seemed to ache for a dress to showcase her cleavage, but she didn't want to get too carried away. What if nothing happens? she thought. Best to not advertise my availability too much before I really know what's going on. But the thought of him and what he could do to her made her bones ache. She was tempted to lie down on the bed for a bit of self-pleasuring before going out, but decided against it. It was only going to make her think more and more about his large, rough hands, his eyes when he looked down at her, his cock thrusting away in her. She sighed deeply and slipped on the matching lace panties. Boy shorts really, which accented her long legs. She looked in the mirror. She felt totally sexy and irresistible. Was that what I want? she thought. She finished dressing with a red button down shirt, skinny jeans, and red slingback peekaboo pumps. She twisted her hair into a messy bun and secured it with a chopstick. She was ready. Ready as she would ever be.
"Booth. Party of two," a voice called out interrupting her reverie. She gazed up at Booth who was looking as far away as she was. She felt his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the crowd to the table. She really wished he wouldn't do that. It was too distracting.
They sat down and remained quiet until the two beers were in front of them, darting glances at each other and looking away quickly. She spoke first. "Seeley, first off, I want to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to be so abrupt and I didn't mean to deny what happened between us. It was just that..." she paused, trying to find the right words, "it's just that Angie was so salacious. At that moment I didn't want to share it with her, didn't want her..." she paused again, her throat suddenly lumpen, unable to speak, "I didn't want her belittling it." She looked down, feeling her face grow hot.
Booth nodded solemnly, his arms folded in front of him on the table, beer untouched. She looked so beautiful when she blushed. "It's ok ," he said, his demeanor softening. "It was kind of a shock, considering..." He couldn't finish the sentence. For one thing, she was so strikingly gorgeous tonight, it almost took his breath away. The understated red button down brought out all the warmth of her skin. She practically glowed. He wondered if last night had anything to do with that.
He took a breath. "Temperance, I guess I owe you an explanation for my weird behavior lately. Other than, you know, the...the..." What to call it, he wondered. Sex? No, too clinical. Making Love? Too cheesy and 70s. Get together? Ugh, too high-schoolish. Experience. That's it. "...the, uh, experience we had last night, I've been acting very defensive. It's just that," he stopped, unsure of what he was really going to tell her. Was this really the time to admit his less than masculine feelings? What if she has no intention of continuing the affair? Relationship? What to call it? Damn, he thought in frustration. He decided to just keep talking and see what came out.
He found himself talking about his time in the Gulf, the men he fought alongside, the harrowing situations he found himself in. How he needed to remain in control at all times, how hard it was for him to give up control now that, in real life, people weren't shooting at him. They ordered food and he kept talking. He talked about how he met Rebecca and really thought this was the one, only to have his heart broken. He kept talking all through dinner, both of them barely picking at their BBQ. Brennan listened intently to all of it, seeing a side of Booth she'd never seen. She could tell it was hard for him to talk about, hard for him to admit his loss of control. But something was still nagging at her.
"You've seen a lot, Seeley. More than any of us should see." But there's something else, isn't there? she wondered. Something you aren't telling me. Something more personal. She wished she didn't have to ask, but something in the way he was reminiscing and recounting his life felt like a red herring. What was it? The way he moved his eyes away from her frequently as if he was afraid to meet them? The seeming nonsequiturs between personal and private life? She had to ask. Of course if she was wrong, if there was nothing else, it might be devastating to their friendship. It was a gamble for sure.
"Seeley?" she hesitated, "Seeley, are you telling me everything? Is this, deep down, what's been bothering you lately?" Her eyes were pleading, and she hoped kind.
It was not, however, taken as kindly as she meant it to be. She could immediately see him shutting down as if he were an assembly line closing up shop for the night. First his eyes registered surprise, then dismay, and then slowly fell to half slits, his brow creasing and his mouth turning down at the corners. "What do you mean? Is this not enough for you?" he spat out, "Me, pouring out my whole history to you?"
"No, I just..."
"What?" he hissed. "You'll never stop digging, will you? Until you find out just the right piece of information?" He was livid, his hands coming up to illustrate his frustration. Deep down he was also very surprised at her intuition of knowing he wasn't giving her the whole story.
"No, Seeley," Brennan said firmly. "If you say that's everything that's bothering you, then I believe you. End of story." Her back was straight but she felt brittle, like another unkind word from him would shatter her into a million small, unsavable pieces.
He gave her a hard look, then glanced away towards the waitress. "I'll get the check," he muttered, signaling to the waitress.
"Wait," Brennan said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset," he lied, getting up to pay the bill at the register. She grabbed her purse and followed him, feeling like she was walking to her execution. She'd ruined it. Ruined it with her pestering questions. He probably would never trust his feelings with her again. How could she be so stupid?
He held open the car door for her but looked away as she slid in. They drove in complete silence, the only sound in the car was the windshield wipers scraping against the windows. The rain seems fitting, she thought, glancing forlornly out the passenger window. Occasionally she looked over at Booth, his eyes glued to the road, his mouth a long straight line, set in grudging anger.
As they pulled up to the house, Brennan thought she'd make the goodbye short and sweet. "Goodbye, Seeley. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She felt near tears and couldn't look at him. She bolted out of the car for the front door, dodging raindrops, and once inside, was deeply thankful the elevator was open and waiting. As soon as she was upstairs she was going to put on some Nina Simone and cry her eyes out. She pressed the button for her floor and watched the doors close, feeling something close up inside her as well.
Suddenly a hand shot through the closing elevator doors. The doors reopened and Seeley Booth stood there, large and haunting, his eyes wild with anger and something else. Something more primal. He stalked into the elevator, gathering up Brennan into a passionate, all encompassing embrace. He wrapped her tightly around him, pushing her against the back wall of the elevator, his mouth descending on hers ferociously. His tongue wrapped around hers as one hand enveloped a breast and the other cupped her ass, grinding into her, staking his claim on her, making her his own. Brennan responded in kind, her hands plunging into his hair pulling him ever closer, crushed against him, loving the feel of him pressed fully against her. Their heat nearly sparked a fire in the close confines of the elevator.
The elevator began to rise. Booth, desperate to feel her skin, began unbuttoning her shirt, his mouth never leaving hers. Brennan, her mind cloudy and dazed from the kiss, shook itself free for a minute and she pushed him back. "What are you doing, Seeley? Is this the way it's going to be? More moodiness? More cold shoulder then hot sex? I can't take it that. I need some answers." She clutched her shirt closed, her face frozen in frustration and anger.
Booth took a step back looking at her intently. Then he turned and pressed the "stop elevator" button and the car came to a halt just shy of her floor. "Ok, Temp. I can't take it anymore either. I have to have you. I'm desperate for you." They leaned into each other involuntarily, drawn together by an invisible thread. "I see that I have to tell you. But first I want you to know something."
"Ok," she said gently, her eyes closing momentarily as the heat from his gaze warmed her.
"I am completely, madly, deeply in love with you." There. He said it. Now, whatever else he told her couldn't be as shocking as that, right?
Brennan's eyes flew open, her jaw dropping as her heart jumped into her mouth. "Booth, I..."
"Don't speak," he said quickly, a hand coming up to gently cover her mouth. "I have to get this out, before you say anything."
He continued. "I've had this fantasy about you for a while now that is hard to explain. Well, it isn't hard to explain really, it's just..." he spoke haltingly. "I've always had...fantasies about being with you. Ever since I've known you. Even the first time I met you I couldn't help wondering what you'd be like in bed. And maybe that's just the guy in me talking. Then, as I got to know you, grew to like you, found in you a passionate and loyal partner, I still fantasized about you. Only the fantasies were getting more vivid, and more often. Again, I was fine with this. I was spending a lot of time around a beautiful, vivacious, smart, sexy woman. What could be more natural? Then something happened, something you did made me want something else, something I didn't know I wanted...." He paused, gathering up his courage. "When I hit on you that time, on the plane, with your hair all up," he gestured to her up-do, "like it is now, I realized that I wanted you to be in control. To dominate me, I guess that's what they call it. You know," he smiled, "make me your bitch."
Brennan, now stunned into silence, could only smile back. "You want me to be your Master, uh Mistress?" she said slowly. "I thought you weren't into that sort of thing. That it was just covering up "crappy sex."
"I know. I know. Trust me, I know what I said, and I've been thinking about it ever since. That's why I've been acting so funny lately. And it's not, I promise, the only thing I want to do with you. I think you saw that the other night." He moved closer to her, pulling a strand of hair from her bun. "I want to do everything with you." He swept down, taking her mouth, gently this time, tongue firmly in check, softly exploring. She pulled away, but stayed close. Her hand wound up his arm, fingering the sleeve of his t-shirt. She looked down at their two bodies almost touching.
"I've thought about this too. I think, as long as role-play isn't the only theme of the relationship, I don't see why it can't be explored. So yes, Seeley, I'll make you my bitch." She laughed, moving into his embrace, closing up the final space between them.
"Don't get too carried away," he growled, moving her against the back wall of the elevator again. "I still like to be in charge sometimes." His mouth moved to the curve of her neck, nuzzling her collarbone.
Brennan tried in vain to speak, which was difficult as she felt every nerve ending in her body respond to him. "And sometimes neither of us is in charge." She gave up trying to talk as he wrapped her tightly in his arms.
He leaned back and restarted the elevator. The doors opened almost immediately and they flew out, lips locked, stumbling to her front door. After a fumble for the keys, they slammed the door shut and fell on each other with abandon. He backed her into the living room, over the back of the couch until he was lying on her, head nuzzling into her voluptuous cleavage, drawing soft little kisses down each globe. She sighed deeply, arching toward him, reaching down and fumbling with her buttons, until he opened up her shirt like a gift on Christmas morning. She was touched by his tenderness. He raised himself up on his elbows, helping her out of her shirt. Her breasts peeked deliciously from the red lace. They seemed to rise up of their own accord, demanding to be touched. He leaned down lightly placing soft kisses along the edge of the lace, an occasional flick of the tongue drawing the hair up on her arms. Her nipples cried out for attention and he complied, capturing one swiftly in his mouth through the lace, sucking deeply. The electricity traveled in two directions at once, to her brain where it registered surprise and pain and to her nether regions where it manifested itself as deep longing. His tongue trailed down the center of her belly to the top of her jeans where he attempted, playfully, to unbutton with his teeth.
"This is impossible, right? He chuckled.
"Completely." She stood up and standing next to the couch languidly unbuttoned her jeans, her eyes locked on his, taking her time savoring the moment. Booth sat up, stretching his arms on the back of the couch, content to enjoy the show and the unhurried pace of their lovemaking. She slowly unzipped and inched the jeans off her hips. He inhaled sharply as he got a glimpse of the red-hot lace panties, hugging her curves perfectly. She slipped the jeans off her legs and climbed onto him, straddling his waist, her breasts even with his mouth. His hands came up to cup them, his mouth feasting on them.
Suddenly, though, his hands were pulled off and over his head, held tightly together. Brennan looked down at him, her expression stern, with a glimpse of mirth in her eyes. "Mr. Booth, DO you know the penalty for an overdue library book?" She ground down onto his cock that was straining through his jeans to break free.
He laughed nervously, unsure of where this was going, but willing to run with it. "I'm not sure I do, Miss...uh...what is your name again?
"Quiet!" she said sternly. "You can call me...Miss Librarian...your mistress....the one who holds your balls," as she said this she took one hand and squeezed him gently, "in the palm of her hand".
Brennan released his hands and reaching up, plucked the chopstick from her bun, her hair cascading down in great waves, covering his face. She leaned down, kissing him softly on the lips. His hands, of their own accord, strayed again to her thighs. She sat up abruptly and pulled his hair until his head hit the back of the couch. "Keep your hands off me until I tell you can touch me? What kind of submissive are you?" she said tauntingly.
She started doing slow sensuous circles with her hips, lifting them up and then sinking down heavily on his cock. Her hands went under his t-shirt, lifting it up over his head. Her fingers found his nipples and tugged, twisting them until he grimaced in pain.
I should put a stop to this, he thought, but another part of him realized this was exactly what he wanted, what he had dreamed of. How many times had he imagined her in this exact position, over-powering him, controlling him. He realized with utter clarity this is all he ever wanted. Her. Like this.
She slid like a snake down his lap until she was on her knees before him. She reached up, unbuckling his belt buckle, laughing softly, "Cocky, huh? Let's see?" She took off his shoes and slid his jeans and boxers off his legs, leaving him completely naked and exposed. His cock stood rock hard at attention. "Looks like somebody is a little excited." She began kissing his thighs studiously avoiding any contact with his groin. She continued talking. "I'm not here to bring you pleasure," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm here to bring myself pleasure, you're just a toy." With that, she grasped his cock in one hand and stroked upwards. His back arched upward violently and he nearly orgasmed in her hand right then and there. She was just so perfect at this, he thought as her hand moved up and down on his cock. It's so natural for her. He closed his eyes, his head dropping to the back of the couch, his hips rocking back and forth with her hand.
"Not so fast, cowboy," she said as she dug her nails into the soft skin of her thighs. He gasped in pain, his eyes flying open. For a moment he was angry. He wanted to flip her over, rip off those fancy lace panties and shove his cock deep into her and not stop until she cried out for more. But she stood suddenly, inching the panties off, unhooking the bra and lying down on the couch next to him, her legs bent and slightly open.
"It's time for you to make me come," she said curtly. "Don't screw up, or there won't be any happy ending for you." She sat up, pulling his head down to her pussy. He fell on her gladly, his hands cradling her hips as his tongue slipped into her wetness. She smelled musky like she had been turned on for a long time and the scent had lodged itself deeply inside of her. He lapped greedily, twisting his tongue into her, making his way up to her clitoris, flicking lightly with his tongue, then starting the evolution again.
"Touch me further down," she demanded. He looked up at her, surprised, without moving his mouth. Her head was flung back, her back arched. Keeping his mouth locked on her pussy, he moved a finger to the delicate rosebud of her ass. He slipped a finger in and sucked long and hard on her pussy. She reached down, holding his head and rode him through a fierce orgasm, an open boat pitching in a storm, crying out in ecstasy over and over, "Seeley, Seeley, Seeley..." When one wave came crashing down another replaced it until she gasped in exhaustion, moving his hand away from her.
She tugged on hair, pulling him up to her, all pretense of game playing over. Her eyes pleaded with him, begging him to enter her, which he did, surging up into her wetness like a sailor returning to the sea after a long spell on land. Eyes open and mouths locked together, they rocked together, their pace quickening, their bodies fused together permanently.
Wanting him deeper, she pushed him back slightly, lifting her legs to give him deeper access. He stroked long and hard into her, his eyes roaming her body, breasts bobbing, hips rocking back and forth as he moved in her. At the moment of her peak, she reached for him, drawing him down to her, enveloping him with her arms, legs, whole body. He buried himself in her, crying out in passion.
"Oh Seeley, Seeley," she cried out softly, "I love you. I love you. I love you." She buried her face in his shoulder and cried hard then, big soft tears, years in the making. She had finally found him. The one who made her feel like no other man had ever come close to making her feel. And here he was, right under her nose the whole time.
He held her as she cried, understanding that it wasn't from sadness.
After the storm of tears had passed, he sat up on his elbows looking at her. "Did you mean it? he asked. "Do you really love me?" A part of him was afraid of asking the question. What if she just said it in the heat of passion?
Her eyes gave the answer before her mouth spoke. "I do. I really do."
She pulled him down into the softest, most gentle kiss he had ever known. She was real. She was here. And she was his.