A/N: Thanks once more for all the support you've guys given me and my hubby. You guys rock! Chemo's round one is over and the prognosis is looking good. We'll be sleeping at home for 12 days straight, if everything goes well. Yay!

A/N 2: I'd also like to thank everyone who's sent their reviews. Just for the record, I can't write serious smut. So I do what I can and go for humorous smut. Booth seems like the perfect character to try this on!

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Fuck.

This is such a bloody cliche I don't know whether to start groaning or to burst laughing. I glance over at Bones, laying next to me in bed, her face buried in a pillow. Her whole body is trembling and I could just shoot myself for making her cry...

But then I realize it's LAUGHTER what's coursing through her body. Whether it's good laughter or bad laughter is a matter still to be settled, but I'm assuming that laughter, either kind, is a lot better than tears at this point... specially since I've yet to lay a hand on her below the waist.

"Uhh... hmm... babe?"

I hear Bones hiccuping trying to regain control, but, by the sound of it, it's a lost battle.

"Are you okay in there, sweetheart?"

She rolls over, laughter cascading from her mouth, hands clutching her belly, messed hair covering her face. "Yo-... you... you got... oh my God... tan...tan.. tangled... (snort) with.. with..."

Ans that's as far as she goes before succumbing once more to her gayly laughter fit. Luckily for me, I'm a very secure guy. I know what I have to offer and I've never failed to deliver the goods. Granted, I may not be Ron Jeremy but I haven't had complaints, either. A little laughter at my expense is not going to shake my confidence.

Much.

"When you're done laughing, could you get your lovely ass back here and give me a little hand ?" There. That ought to get her back on track. Or maybe not. She rolls to the other side, still clutching her sides, snorting and blubblering and incapable of any coherent sentence.

"Fine", I say, whilst trying to kick my sneakers and get myself out of the mess I've gotten into. "Keep laughing. You're so gonna pay for that". My threats, far from sobering her, send her into another laughing fit.

Cool. Keep it cool. You're the man, man.

Fucking sneakers.

At least I managed to get the socks out of the way as well. One ackward move per night is all that I can handle right now.

So there I was, naked except for my boxers, cock still halfway rigid. And there she was, naked from the waist up, still wearing them fucking sweatpants and still laughing like this was the funniest thing ever. At least she had managed to kick HER sneakers off.

Hey, I've always admitted she's the smartest one in our partnership.

She rolls a bit on her side, looking at me over her naked shoulder. I'm not sure if it's nervousness laughing or if she had really never experienced... uh... technical difficulties whilst disrobing, but one look at me sends her into another fit of laughter.

"Ok missy, I've had it" I stretch my arms and pull her on her back and managed to roll myself atop of her in one almost swift move. Making sure I'm not crushing her below my weight, I start tickling her sides.

"St...st...stop it! Oh pl..pl...pl... ease, stoooooop it!"

My tickling fingers soon turn to caressing ones, and I can hear her swallow hard when I start tracing circles just below her breasts. I lean forward, resting on my forearms, and start nibbling at her neck again. "You were saying something about stopping?" My tongue is now licking the hollow at the base of her neck and I can't help but smile when I hear her gasp.

Now I'm tracing her collarbone with the tip of my tongue and I can't help but marvel at how delicate her whole body is. I've always perceived Bones as strong and indepedant, and I guess that preconceived notion had prevented me from seeing how small she really is.

I shift lower and cup her breasts once more. I take my time examining them. The plastic surgeon was right: they are perfect. They're plump without being too heavy, with a nice natural droop that's still years away from sagging. Tiny blue veins travel upward as if guiding me to her nipples. I think I could stay here for hours just gazing at them. Not rosy, not strawberry, but a perfect in between. I exhale the breath I've been holding and marvel at how those bundles of flesh contract and erect.

If there was ever an invitation to taste them...

Forget hours of contemplation. I'd gladly choke to death sucking on them. I move from the right one to the left one, sucking one and covering the other with my hand, least it gets cold and uncomfortable. While lathering up her left nipple I glance up to see how the rest of Bones is doing. One hand is crumpling the bed spread whilst the other is tugging her hair. She is biting her lower lip and murmuring to herself. Her closed eyes suddenly open in a lazy movement and I'm a goner.

Words can't really describe how it felt to be seen by her while I'm feeding off her breasts. It hit me hard in my soul, an unneccesary confirmation of how deeply I care for this extraordinary woman. It hit harder down below, a not-so-welcomed reminder of how much I wanted her.

"More"

It took me a couple of seconds to realize it hadn't been me thinking out loud. It had slipped from between her lips. I looked at her with a troubled expression, trying to figure out what kind of "more" she wanted. Many a times I had wished women came with a set of instructions tatooed next to their belly buttons. Since most women are somewhat vague to what they really want in bed, you can only hope for the best in a trial-and-error uncoreographed dance.

Alas, Bones isn't like most women.

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TBC...