A/N: I'm sick. Sick sick sick. Have been awake for approximately 3 of the last 24 hours, the rest of the time lost in heavily-medicated strange dreams. And what do I do with the time that I'm awake? Imagine dirty B/B scenarios, of course. Sigh. Apologies ahead of time if it doesn't made any sense. That cold & sinus medicine is a killah. I did have a looker-over (thanks KJ. Smooches.), but she was tired and takes no responsibility. The little brat;) Loves her!

'Til healthier days! Loves.

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The thing about Bones is that she pretends to be sly, but I'm pretty damn sure that she not only knows exactly when she's provoking me, but she also enjoys it. She feels safe playing her little games with me, making me stammer and turn red when sexual innuendos come flowing from those pretty little lips. And I want her to feel safe with me, so I've traditionally let her get away with it.

She was in rare form during that pony play case…she knew the erotic context of the whole thing put me in a whole new orbit of discomfort around her, and she used it to her advantage. Pony play was as valid as any other culture, she told me, and its participants no less 'normal' than any others. So what if someone had to yell "giddyup" to heighten sexual arousal, she had asked me, with a small smile on her face, delighting in my obvious distress at the topic.

She was wrong about the cause, though. It wasn't talking about sex that made me uncomfortable. It was her talking about sex. Fuck the pony players (not literally, of course). It made me wonder what the brilliant genius Dr. Temperance Brennan did at her critical moment to heighten sexual arousal. Did she whisper "fuck me" to her lover between gritted teeth while she threw her head back in abandon? Did she scratch her nails down her lover's back, leaving marks there that would be visible for the rest of the week? Did she grab his hair and force his lips to whatever part of her gave her the biggest thrill, the most pleasure? The possibilities were limitless, really. And they were what made me blush, made me stammer.

Part of me always wonders what would happen if I made it a little less safe for her. If I raised the stakes. Maybe I could shut that smart mouth of hers once and for all, when she thought she was being so sly.

I could have done it in the elevator. After she told me we were immersed in a culture, and that the killer we were looking for was obviously a part of it, looking at the symbolism behind the method of murder. Resigning myself to all the weirdness to come, I suggested "Back to the Ambassadora?" as people filtered onto the elevator with us.

To which she replied, with that teasing little smile, "Giddyup."

I told her not to say that, right before the door closed. Wishing she'd understand….it was for both our sakes. She didn't want to know what might happen if I opened myself up to talking about sex around her.

The elevator had descended slowly, coming to a rest with a soft 'ding' on the next floor down. But still, she taunted me, it seemed talking softly, as more people piled on. "You know, it's times like this when your issues with sex become a detriment to the case." I politely moved to the back of the lift to make room for the newcomers, her taking a position just a bit in front of me. I had thought that maybe she'd just be quiet then, but she had to push me just a little further. "You should work on that."

That's where the memory of my frustration ends. But in my mind, it could have progressed and ended just a little bit differently. On the next floor, when more people got on board (why was no one getting off? I laughed at my own pun), she was maneuvered to be positioned right in front of me. And that's where I could have made my move. It could've been so easy to reach out into the small space now between us and put my palm against the roundness of her ass…more than a pat, not quite a squeeze…like a caress, fingers tracing the contour of that enticing part of her body. In my mind, I could have felt her stiffen a little, stand straighter, her eyes darting from side to side to see if anyone was noticing. But they weren't….they were distracted, reading papers, watching the floor counter, waiting for the ride to come to an end so they could get to wherever they needed to be. No one would know the position of my intrepid hands, unless she chose to make an issue of it. That was the choice I could have given her. Make an issue. Or let me "work on" my sex issues.

I could see the pink creeping up the part of her neck I could see, and her choice would have been obvious at that point…I could have become bolder, pressed harder, squeezed her a little through those tight pants she was wearing. Maybe wearing them for me…after all, she had admitted that her wearing lipstick was a way of objectifying herself, so maybe wearing the pants that showed off every curve of her bottom was meant to entice me into doing exactly what I was doing.

Ding. Next floor down. The person beside me pushed through the crowd in front of us to exit, but two more people got on.

Staring straight ahead, I could have let my hand trail upwards until they touched the material of the sweater she was wearing, then crept up further past the waistband of her pants until I reached bare flesh…the spot on her back that my hand automatically went to when guiding in my preferred direction, and my fingers could've stroked there, softly, before dipping into the waistband a bit, hooking a finger inside to pull out, then push back in the silky tag. I could hear her take a soft, shuddering breath. What's wrong, doctor? You have a problem with getting felt up in a public place?

I myself couldn't have believed I was actually doing this, but she made me so fucking crazy…my cock was getting harder by the second and being exposed once we got to our floor, just three away now, was going to be an issue, but I couldn't have brought myself to care. Both of my hands could have now slipped down over her ass, around to her soft hips, kneading there, my colleagues around us still engaged in their coffee and their papers and their lives.

Ding. Next floor. Again, more people getting aboard than exiting, whispering polite 'Excuse me's' to the people they displaced. It would have been getting crowded, hot, and I'd imagine I could smell her getting hotter too. I could have then made my boldest move yet…gripping at her hips, I could have pulled them flush back against my own. She could have felt then the long column of my cock pressing against our pants, fitting snugly into the crack of her ass and throbbing with the pressure of her body against it. I'd have to hold her hips just a little tighter to compensate for the slight sag as (I like to imagine) her knees weakened and she swayed back a bit unsteadily. I could exhale my own pent-up breath against the back of her neck, tickling the tiny hairs there. Tightly, I'd keep her there, for a second, two, three…This is why I can't talk about sex with you, Bones. Because if I did, this is how I'd be walking around all day, and it would not be conducive to business. Until…

Ding. Ground floor. The one everyone was waiting for to pour off. The door opened, and at the same time, I released her. She would have practically flown out into the lobby, bumping against some of our elevator-mates and earning her some annoyed looks. I could have sauntered off behind her, hands crossed in front of me but looking otherwise amused at her red face, her indignant expression as she turned and glared at me. Softly, I could say the words that she had provoked me with. "Giddyup." Just so she knew what had made me do what I did. So she'd think before doing it again.

Her face could have gone 10 different shades of pink, but knowing Bones, she could have still found some way to surprise me. In my mind, I choose to think she would have done it with a slow look of resolve and decorum coming back to her posture and expression. She could walk up to me and look me up and down. Then she'd whisper softly.

"Why would I have said it if I didn't want to ride?"

And with a satisfied smile, she'd turn and sway away from me again. And, as always, I could follow.