This is Life
Disclaimer: Oh, little ole me owns nothing.
Rating: M.
A/N: I am so pushing my luck with the rating on this one, but if you read the MA version you'd probably realise this is nothing. Anyway, review!
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She was chalky pale and sullen as she emerged from the bathroom, her tousled hair scraped back from her face, dark shadowing circles ringing her eyes. She looked grim, her arms hanging by her side, the folded paper instructions for her home pregnancy test peaking from the pocket of her cotton robe.
He set his newspaper aside, the aromatic cup of steaming Brazilian coffee no longer holding the same appeal as it had before. Her expression spoke in volumes. It was not good news. But then it felt as though every moment of euphoria was tarnished by unwelcome thunder clouds.
"You're not pregnant… right?" he said, wanting to break her gaze, wanting to look at the table, anything that would ensure he didn't have to witness the aching bleakness within her eyes.
"No," she said, dropping into the chair opposite him, her palms pressed against the dark oak, fingers spread as she passed her thumbs over her perfectly trimmed, smooth and subtly polished nails.
"No you're not pregnant or no, I'm wrong?" he asked, burning his tongue as he swallowed a mouthful of piping coffee. Wincing, Booth shoved the cup aside, straightening his tie with a damp, slightly trembling hand. Brennan blinked, numbly dazed.
"No you're wrong…" she confirmed, lifting her hands and pressing the tips of her fingers to her tired eyes and he noticed the distinct tremble of her own muscles as she pinched the bridge of her nose, twice, before sighing. "I guess I'm in shock…" she admitted, her fists clutching her unruly hair as she drew an unsteady breath into her lungs. "I suppose I knew…" Brennan continued, her eyes shining with the lustre of flawless diamonds. "But when something is confirmed… almost beyond a shadow of doubt… it's not possible to deny it anymore." Booth heard her voice as it rose an octave, heightened by her unbound emotions.
"Did you want to deny it, Bones?" he asked with the tentative query that was spoken so softly that she almost wondered if he were asking her directly or merely musing aloud. Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts her mind barely registering that she was already fifteen minutes late for work and she hadn't even showered, yet.
"Maybe," she confessed. "I did not want another baby. I explained this before. My own stupidity led me down a path of condemnation. When I told you… I did so because you should know, not because I wanted to pick out pastel colours for a nursery…" her voice trailed, lost amidst the bitter twang with which she spoke. There was no doubt in his mind that she was not rejoicing. A spear-ended spike of hurt tore through his heart.
"I see," he said, straightening in his chair.
"Do you?" she laughed without humour. "Fuck, Booth, we lost a child less than three months ago. We've just got into a happy place…" her eyes welled, her fingers digging into the flannel robe and he was certain her nails were cutting into her skin. He reached out, smoothing the tension away, much in the same way he ironed wrinkles from his dress shirt or straightened out the covers on the bed.
Like wrinkles, her fears softened with each stroke of his fingers over her palm.
"I feel like we keep switching places in this game we're playing, Bones," he said, work-roughened fingertips tracing slow circles over her skin, each swipe made her burn, mostly because she was not familiar with the kind of human companionship he provided. She'd been so used to fighting her own emotional battles and then he waltzed into her life with all the flair and dramatics of a wild, Spanish dance. Their love affair had been tempestuous with heartbreaking, soul destroying trials and a romance fuelled by the kind of passion people yearned to have.
"I don't understand…" she sighed, having no energy to analyse, to wonder at the illusiveness of his statement.
"One minute you're having doubts, then me, then you… it's like we're running around chasing our tails instead of having the courage to embrace what we have. We agreed, the night we had dinner at the French restaurant in summer that we'd tell everyone about our relationship. Yet we've been slinking into the shadows as though we have something to be ashamed of. Who knows? Your work colleagues?" Brennan sighed, thinking of her college friends, the people who she'd trusted implicitly that were unaware of who she was and who she was with. It was a betrayal to Booth. A betrayal to herself. "You're pregnant. Fine. We love each other, Bones. We're financially stable and I'm certain beyond a doubt that we'll provide a good environment for a child."
The longer he spoke, the easier the realisation became. Yet, in the darkest recesses of her heart, not so easily persuaded, an underlying doubt niggled at her mind as she excused herself from the table and delved into the shower, immersing herself in the billowing steam and the pungent aromatherapy shower gel she owned.
As her adrenaline coursed through her veins she was torn between the 'fight and flight' element of her psyche. She wanted to conquer her fears, remind herself every day that while she'd lost her parents the same was not inevitable for the baby she was carrying. A stronger, more resounding corner squealed with fear and Brennan wanted nothing more than to shy away from the entire situation.
Soaping her body, she heard the distinctive click of the bathroom door and sensed him as he moved around the bathroom, checking his immaculate reflection in the mirror before he prepared to leave for the morning. He hummed jubilantly, somewhat braver than her when it came to matters of extreme, mind-blowing importance.
"Hey, Bones," he called, knocking the glass screen with his knuckles. She started, a soapy hand falling against wall. "Can you come here, please?" She sighed, thick white suds snaking over her body, foam clumped in her hair. He probably wanted her to confirm that his chosen tie was nice or, in a typically egotistical Booth way, require a compliment of his sexual desirability.
Sliding the screen open, she stepped unto the mat, her eyes squeezed shut. "I need a towel," she said, her hand searching blindly.
"Wait," Booth replied, brushing a downy cotton towel over her eyes, brushing away residual suds that clung to her lashes. She blinked, momentarily blinded, and became aware of the air whoosh from her lungs in a long, sharp exhale when she felt an immediate warm, wet tongue lave at her nipple, coaxing the little bud into a tightened point.
"Booth…" she whined, a pointed throb aching between her thighs. "I'm so late for work…" her protests fell on deaf ears, for his nimble fingers massaged her other breast, moulding the malleable flesh into his palm, stroking his thumb across the rosy nipple, circling the areola as the darkened skin puckered at his command.
"Then you'll just have to be a little later, won't you…" There was no hint of an actual question when he spoke. He merely stated the fact of a situation she was powerless to resist.
His highly agile tongue played havoc with her breast, curling around her nipple, provoking her clitoris to a hardened bud to aching nerves, waiting for hot, pulsating release. She was amazed at the biology of it. How could he suck and nip on her breast and produce such a fevered response elsewhere in her body?
Brennan's hand reached for his pants, stroking the hardened length of his erection inside the silken wool of one of his expensive suits. She knew if she didn't unzip him soon he'd have to explain a fairly embarrassing stain to his dry cleaner.
"You respond to me in ways I could never have imagined," he said as she slipped her hand into his fly, her fingers encircling the large circumference of him – the width of which she knew by heart; every ridge. When her fist tightened, he thrust into her palm, his penis a contrast of sensations she could never explain adequately; soft like tissue paper yet harder than reinforced steel.
The smooth rounded tip displayed the smallest hint of his arousal, and the extent of it.
"I cannot help but respond to you," she admitted, arching into the ministrations of his tongue, pursing her lips against the long, languorous laps which with he licked her tender nipple. "You do things to me…" she sighed, her hips rotating in tight, desperate circles when his fingers parted her folds and rubbed around the slick bud, made moist by her own arousal.
Her lips parted, releasing a strangled breath when his fingers slipped inside her, touching places no one else had touched.
Except with Booth.
With Booth everything was touched.
Her hand worked along the length of him, her thumb rubbing tight, hard circles. enticing him with her slow, firm strokes. He groaned her name, his teeth closing around her right nipple, biting, hard enough to induce the smallest glimmer of pain and make her womb contract around his fingers.
When she winced, her head thrown back as she concentrated on the multiple sensations and her own task, Booth soothed the ache, rubbing feather light rotations around her nipple with only the tip of his tongue.
After a long moment, she pressed her back against the wall, parting her thighs and welcoming the hot, hard length of him into her. Her muscles relaxed, permitting him access into the molten depths of her body. Deeper than any person had ever been – providing her the greatest amount of pleasure. She had never been a woman who held much credence in size and she was loathe to admit it – but now that she'd experienced the sweet, torturous arousal of his penis, buried inside, she'd never relinquish it. Never.
He thrust, slow before burying himself to the hilt, a strangled cry falling from her mouth as she squealed his name, the sound echoing inside the airy bathroom as both his hands massaged her heavy breasts, his thumbs teasing the already turgid red nipples to rigid peaks. After four long thrusts into her womb he froze in a prolonged, breathy orgasm that brought her quivering, sweaty body to a climax with him.
"Bones?" he murmured against her shoulder and she grunted, her breathing laboured.
"Hmm?"
"Pregnancy is going to be so good for you. And if it's like this all the time, for me too…"
