A/N: Thanks everyone for your reviews and comments and pointing out my typos and spelling mistakes (which I'm glad to report have been corrected). My sincerest apologies. English is not my native tongue. Trusty laptop is running on Spanish-based Windows Office. I know. This is what betas were created for. (sigh) My insecure muse doesn't like working with them. I've tried. Believe me. Everything I've gotten betaed has ended in the trash can. Quirk of mine number 324, nestled cozily between 323 (not charging for tarot readings) and 325 (not understanding what's Tom Cruise and/or Brad Pitt's appeal). Hubby loves me, though. All 3,689 quirks of me.

(Noticed the subtle attempt at getting your attention distracted from the "more"?)

Ok... ok... I'm moving. No need to threaten physical damage, please put that bill away and keep your hands off my George Clooney shrine. We're getting to the story in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

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"More"

I look into her eyes, hoping to get a clearer idea of what kind of "more" she wants from me. Demands from me, actually. All she needs do is point me in the right direction and I'll try my damnest to give it to her. Anything at all. I don't care what it is that she wants.

On second thought, I might draw a line at cross-dressing, golden showers and zoofilia...

"Too many clothes" is her new demand, delivered in a husky tone of voice that got me even harder. Looking at her flushed cheeks isn't helping much, either. I'd given into lust many times in my life, but I've never wanted anyone as bad as I want her now. And the wanting is also different from anything I've felt before, too.

In the past, when I've given into pure animal instinct, I've never really cared for the girl. Most of the times I go through the motions with just the neccesary involvement to get her turned on enough to allow for penetration. Cynical? Maybe. Honest? Totally. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a slam-bang-thanks ma'am kinda guy. Most of the times I make it worth their while. Let's just say that in those cases, my personal satisfaction rules in the top five places, and hers... somewhere around number 8.

Before tonight, foreplay was just a means to an end: getting inside her and getting off. Right now, however, I wouldn't mind it if my cock never made it inside her body. If I can worship her body in every and any way she wants me to... if I can manage to make her moan and writhe... if I get to hear her say my name outloud in the throes of passion...

A nudge from her hips gets my attention. The message is quite clear: stop daydreaming about how it'd be like if it happened and start working towards making it happen.

My hands move to her waist and I hook my thumbs on the elastic waitband of her pantsuits. I'm somehow shocked at the lack of panties. I never pegged Bones to be a comando-type girl. Not that I'm complaining though. Me likey. Me likey very much!

I start lowering her pants and she's a willing participant, lifting her hips to make my job easier and sorta shimmies and wiggles her legs until they're off for good. I shift back and contempate the scenery before me: a radiant, completely naked Bones laying not-too-modestly... well, almost completely naked. She still has on those ankle high socks gals seem so fond of. I chuckle upon noticing that the sole is decorated with tiny teddy bears in Christmas gear. They have "Angela" written all over them.

Bones clears her throath and looks dissaprovingly at my boxers. "Too many clothes" she says again, this time adressing my undergarment. Ever the gentleman always aiming to please, I get up and discard them in what I hope is a swift and graceful movement. And I remain standing next to the bed, with an "at ease" pose, hands behind my back, alowing her to pass inspection over my body.

I can feel her gaze slowly move down my body. She takes in my chest, my abs and quickly move down to my legs, skipping my genital area. "Not so sassy, huh?" I think to myself, inwardly smirking, until I notice that the "demure" Dr. Brennan is openly checking out my.. uh... package... with what I can only hope is appreciative enthusiasm.

She sighs, and the word "Perfect" escapes her lips in the same breath. Both my ego and my pride swell, not to mention my cock, now standing at three quarters of attention. If Mr. Jones has gotten this far from mere standard friction, I can only imagine what it'll be like once "he" gets to feels her skin... or her hands... or, please God, her lips on him... My imagination causes him to twitch, and the movement ellicits a delighted gasp from my beloved bedmate, and I can't help but feel that I am, indeed, THE man.

Keep dreaming.

She regards me with a naughty smile and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. My cock nearly hits my belly button, my heart nearly stops and my jaw falls down to my knees when Bones spreads her legs to get my attention back to the task at hand. I watch in astonishment as she rubs herself. It took only a couple of seconds, but it was enough to leave the whole area glistening in an open invitation.

Yesterday's Booth-in-lust would have gladly dived into it, humping away like there was no tomorrow, surrounding myself in the inviting wetness of her pussy, mere strokes away from climaxing and hoping that it was enough to satisfy her.

That was then. This is now. And now the only thing I can think of is tasting her. I want to get drunk with Temperance Brennan's arousal. I want to make her come around my tongue. I want to make her clit swell and tremble in my mouth. I want to hear her beg for me to stop. I want to make her want me deep inside her.

And everybody knows that what I want is what I get.

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TBC

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long. My asthma sneaked up behind my back and I haven't felt like doing anything other than sleep the last couple of days. I'll try to wrap this up nicely (even let you choose the ribbon colour) by the weekend!