Somewhere down the line the first and last chapters of this story became linked in my head as companion pieces, I've tinkered with them both to reflect that vision. Hope it works, and thanks again for all of your unwavering faith and support-and your sense of humor! (A brief reminder that this is still an M-rated story.)

After having waited so inhumanly long, Booth decided he simply couldn't wait a second longer.

The raging desire he'd felt all night for the woman before him-best friend, partner, scientist extraordinaire, angel and unknowing vixen-forced him to dig way down deep and find that missing spine.

No guts, no glory.

Without saying another word he again crushed his lips to Brennan's, determined to finish what he'd started just minutes before. Thinking of nothing, of everything as his merciless hold pinned her sweeping, hairpin curves hard against his body.

He wasn't going to let Bones get away this time, not without a major fight. From now on those smirking suitors lurking in the wings-here's lookin' at you, Sully boy-were going to have to go right through him to get to her.

He could live wide-and he was about to prove it.

With a quick flick of the wrist Brennan's strapless black bra and matching satin panties joined the dress spilled like an ink stain on the floor, and at long last a perennially self-doubting Seeley Joseph Booth was free to explore all those forbidden places he'd only been able to visit in his well-travelled imagination.

Hail Mary and Hallelujah.

Naked. She was naked and oh so pliant and responsive as he skimmed his hands over her shoulders, her ribcage, her hips before slowly working his way back up to her breasts, suddenly heavy and sweet in his upturned palms. A smooth, gently rolling landscape of flesh which kept dissolving into shivers under his meandering fingertips.

Brennan's quiet whimpers of pleasure were heading straight to the G-man's heart-and, no denying it-lower still. A sensation impossible for a nearly delirious Booth to put into words, being this close to the woman he lived and breathed for, filled with the certainty that she finally, finally wanted him as much as he'd always wanted her.

Although at first the scientist was too shocked to react to her partner's advances with anything but indolent surrender, Brennan made it a point of honor to recover quickly. Vitally important work lay ahead for their redefined relationship and she couldn't expect Booth-a man at that-to handle the many, many details of that upcoming evolution all on his own. Things hadn't just changed around her, they had also changed within. Because for once Temperance Brennan had plenty of options, and she was about to exercise them all.

Touch by touch she kept up with each and every one of Booth's caresses, ensuring by her actions that the man so adroitly blazing a trail over her body wound up as provokingly bare-skinned as she. When her fingers skittered over his abdomen she felt the ragged intake of breath and the ripples of excitement on his lower belly foretelling a change in mood, but it was only when she reached down and ran her hand over his prominent erection, her precise, exacting strokes intimate and sure, that she felt the real shift in him. He went completely still, every sinew and tendon apparently locked in place.

The blistering game of kiss-and-touch the partners were engaged in came to a sudden stop as Booth's entire body grew rigid.

"Oh God, Bones" he groaned weakly, letting his head fall listlessly against the crook of Brennan's neck.

Even with the massive energy their bodies were generating Booth could feel himself breaking into a cold sweat and that couldn't possibly be a good sign. Not for him, but especially not for her.

"Maybe...maybe you shouldn't do that."

Except that yes, Brennan had already decided that she absolutely should.

Her partner had been driving her insane forever-those innocent, little-boy smiles teeming with double-meaning and intrigue; the eyes that seemed to always be following her-watchful, longing, half sad; the tailored dress shirt that managed to underscore with its everyday plainness the hard-cut lines of his not-so-boyish torso, its cuffs always turned just so to reveal a teasing peek of twin tattoos.

And last but not least, the many, many times he'd touched her since her hasty return from Anguilla. Nothing new for Booth; he'd been touching her since the very beginning, even when she consistently batted his hand away in irritation. But given these new times she was living in, from this wildly new perspective, those little touches had begun taking on an intriguingly alien connotation-as if by placing his hands on her person he was claiming her as his own.

And she already was. She just hadn't found a way to tell him.

So for all the trouble Booth had caused her, the days and nights marked by indecision and crippling emotional malaise, Brennan impishly chose to incite even more, increasing his evident torment with her fingers despite his hoarse request to stop. Amping up the pressure-and obvious pleasure-they were so expertly providing.

Booth was a marked man, and he knew it. Because after everything the night had already demanded of him the waylaid agent didn't have a single shred of willpower left to make his partner stop. The feeling of her even, slick grip-sliding, softly compressing, releasing a bit only to immediately compress again-was simply too delicious, too distracting, too...

Screw his life.

Too close.

Those tiny blips of delight lighting up like a busy switchboard all over his frame had gone from eyes-in-back-of-your-head blissful to critical malfunction stage just like that. Even in something close to a state of rapture he was painfully aware that if she kept doing what she was doing there'd either be a premature-and highly unfortunate-deployment of the troops or he'd have to irreverently take her right there in the hallway where they stood.

Situational awareness; they both needed some situational awareness right now for sure.

Because there was a time and a place for everything.

While Booth could for once say with total conviction that this was absolutely the right time, the place could definitely be improved on.

Regardless of what she might be tempted to label it, this wasn't just sex. And come to think about it, it rarely ever was. Sure, a romp in the hay could be all about having a good time or releasing tension or sometimes even just about satisfying those infamous biological urges she was always talking about-and in the future it might cheerfully be any and all of these things to them. But for now, when they were so very new to each other, when a certain tone of reverence had to be set for all that lay ahead in their future, it had to be first and foremost about love.

And love this hard-won shouldn't be consecrated for the first time on the floor or against the wall, as if they were so unsure about each other, about their newly minted bond, that they had to go at it anyway they could because there might not be another chance to express their desire for each other later.

"Not here, Bones; not like this" he urged quietly, touching his forehead to hers in an effort to regain some focus and hopefully slow things down a bit.

Brennan blinked in confusion. In light of how very far gone her partner already seemed to be, she could have sworn he'd be the last person on earth to care where the consummation of their union ultimately took place.

Most men, in her experience, simply weren't that particular. And given how aroused she was currently feeling, she had to admit that at this very moment neither was she.

"Does it really matter where?" she replied, an undercurrent of humor sparkling like tiny diamonds in her voice.

Although Booth refused to open his eyes to avoid falling prey to that cool blue gaze, the agent could still picture a single, amused eyebrow creeping upwards in disbelief.

The rhythmic, sultry motion of Brennan's fingers continued unabated until Booth grabbed her wrist and gently pried her hand away.

"Yeah, it does. At least the first time. We've been waiting a long time, Bones-it shouldn't be like this..." He looked around them. "Not here. It's not very..."

Ah, what word to use...Come up with the wrong one and there'd be hell to pay.

Wincing, he put his initial choice out there in an act of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, Evel Knievel moxie.

"It's not very romantic."

But contrary to what he had expected she didn't laugh; there didn't even seem to be a hint of a suppressed snicker hiding anywhere on that lovely face. Instead she looked up with an awe-struck little smile that only set the agent's blood on fire all over again.

Of course Booth would insist on doing it properly their first time, Brennan mused. For a man who could be so hard and uncompromising when the job required it of him her partner could be almost too sensitive when it came to conducting his personal affairs. After all, wasn't he the same guy who'd brought a sleeping bag along on a date in high school so that his girlfriend du jour would experience a more comfortable 'ride' as they went at it under the bleachers? What adolescent male gave the mating ritual that much thought?

"And the second time?" she asked, sporting a knock-you-dead grin.

As incredibly turned-on as he was, Booth still had the presence of mind to wonder where the heck his partner's steely bravado was coming from. Did she not understand the precarious nature of her situation?

Still, he couldn't help but chuckle at his beloved's improbable nerve. Tendrils of dark, low laughter that dripped like molten sugar all the way down to a very pert, carmine-hued nipple, causing it to become more alert still.

Brennan's blue-grey eyes twinkled with anticipation.

"The second time we can do it anywhere you want, even here" Booth replied with an ominous growl.

"But for now, Bones, the bedroom."

This new dangerous, decidedly alpha-male persona coming out to play instinctively caused the wanting already roiling in Brennan's insides to boil over, and she felt a dull, liquid ache begin to throb between her legs. An overpowering urge to give her body over to someone, to let them do as they would and take her on whatever adventure they wished. A basic impulse often present in the past to be sure, but never ever to this maddening degree. She suddenly wanted Booth closer to her than he'd ever been-over her, around her, inside her-and the wanting pretty much shut down any other thought but him.

Propelled by old needs and far more recent ones, the partners blindly fumbled their way to the bedroom.

And so it came to be that one embrace, one sigh, one ravenous kiss at a time that haunting dream from so long ago, the one which had caused a superlatively deliberate, analytical woman to leave caution and reason far behind on a sunny Caribbean beach for something completely unknown, was steadily replaced by a far more ardent and interesting reality. The full weight of Booth's body, only guessed at before, bore down on the scientist as the bed frame register its mild complaint underneath, almost robbing her of her breath.

She didn't care; breathing had never seemed more superfluous.

When Booth's hand settled on the downy triangle between her legs, index and middle fingers deliberately, softly probing, Brennan's pulse exploded in expectation of the exquisite pleasure that would soon be, and those few blurry images which still lingered of that ancient dream were utterly swept away by the real thing.

Booth built on her wanting patiently, his intuitive back-and-forth strokes perfectly timed as Brennan's mind and body began to unspool. She could feel her sense of reality fracturing with each new pass of his fingers; rearranging itself into a brand new pattern as the need for him grew.

Intoxicating as the feeling was, though, Booth's slow, slow burn was turning into something close to torture for an increasingly wet and frustrated Brennan. They were both clearly ready but for some unfathomable reason her chosen mate seemed hell bent on increasing the craving, the hunger, perhaps in the hopes that when they finally ran headlong into each she'd be completely receptive to the imminent takeover of her body by his. But with his hips already bumping and grinding in mindless synchronicity against hers, with his accelerated heartbeat roaring like whitewater through her veins, the extended foreplay was a textbook case of overkill for Brennan.

One which very nearly made her grab her partner by the shoulders and beg in utter desperation to be taken once and for all. Because truly, she'd been ready for this moment long before he ever laid a finger on her.

Same as he'd done to her minutes before, she tugged on his hand and pulled it away.

"Booth, please" she whispered in something of a command, arching her body upwards to meet his.

For once, and much to Brennan's delight, Booth did exactly as he was told.

The actual mechanics of this, their freshman dance were blessedly carefree and uncomplicated. The way these things should be the first time, when lack of familiarity and an overwhelming eagerness to please offer their own unique, once-in-a-lifetime thrill.

Her body quivering with excitement as she spread her thighs in acceptance, his warm, moist breath wetting her parched lips just before he went in for the metaphorical kill. Predatory, effortless movements on Booth's part which were steadily eliciting the most autonomic of responses in his partner, all as the woman he was loving-the woman he loved-snaked her arms and legs around him in a completely futile bid to hold him down and slow down his movements, delaying the very thing she wanted most.

While the furious, untamed pace of their lovemaking invariably evoked for Brennan many of the same erotic sensations she'd experienced on that fateful morning in Anguilla when she woke up feeling so exposed and off-kilter, she was also aware with the delectable friction left behind by every thrust and pull that in that supposed similarity there was an entire universe of difference.

Life-this life-this complicated, crazy, unpredictable life was exponentially brighter, warmer, richer and more pristinely sensual than anything her imagination could have ever come up with. How could she have ever thought they would be even remotely the same?

The way the short, stiff hairs on the nape of Booth's neck pricked her fingers just a little when she ran her hand up the back of his head. The fast paced rise and fall of his chest as, huffing and grunting softly, he pounded into her time and time again. That spellbinding mix of cologne and perspiration and pheronomal musk being exuded by his body with every move he made.

And the heat; the bone-saturating, pervasive heat that made her feel like she was burning from the inside out.

Everything-every detail, from the most insignificant to the most glaringly conspicuous had measurable substance and quantifiable volume, all made more meaningful by the fact that she knew that the man doing all these dizzying things to her cared for her in a way no one else had.

Had selflessly cared like that for years, irrespective of the fact that there might never be anything more than friendship in it for him. A man who she knew-knew-irrational as that statement was, would be by her side always, just as she had already committed to be by his. Never again would she feel the need to leave her heart behind when she gave the rest of her body away-this was Booth, and she trusted him implicitly with both.

The breathtaking display of pyrotechnics came and went, leaving two very satiated bodies vibrating in its wake.

As the couple lay sprawled out in that mess of fine linens-fingers lightly touching, drunkenly, stupidly in love-Brennan turned her head and smiled at the dazed, sweat-covered man beside her. And in that very first pink light of dawn she saw him smiling back.

Carpe diem, Booth and Brennan. Carpe diem.

And the rest, my friends, is history.

Because you've all been so incredibly patient and kind there's an epilogue coming later this week as a thank you.