Disclaimer: I do not own Bones nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: Some patterns of behavior follow logic, but many do not. Dr. Brennan reconsiders prior conclusions. Events follow s6 ep18, The Truth in the Myth. Rating has changed! Rated M for language/sexual situations. TB/VN-M

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Stranger Things Have Happened

Chapter 4: Pas de Deux

Temperance had nearly forgotten the extent to which the mind could be distracted by such things as endorphins. More accurately, she was familiar enough with the process, but the intensity of the experience could still surprise her. She regarded the loose pile of discarded clothing idly, fighting off impatience.

"Right. Got them."

She looked up. Vincent was holding the box of condoms in one hand and the box of wipes in the other. "Excellent," she said. "Set them on the side table."

"Of course." He placed them next to her and paused for a moment, hands in front of him as if he was still holding the boxes. "Actually, I suppose I ought to, er, make use of these." Reaching for the condoms, he slid a finger under the flap of the box, opening it and drawing out one of the packages.

She took her time gazing at his body. Her intern was quite slender and very pale – not at all the type of man she normally went for. Yet there was something about him, and she could not place it. She did like the contrast of his dark hair against his fair skin, and she noticed the muscle tone, though there was still some softness to his belly. His erection was flagging, possibly from having to make the trip from the bedroom to the livingroom and back, or possibly from nervousness. She estimated that his penis was average in size, possibly slightly above in terms of girth, and she was unsurprised to note that he was uncircumcised. "Would you like me to assist you?"

He chuckled, brow furrowing slightly. "I, er, think I can manage." Head jerking, he glanced at her. "Unless you had something . . . special in mind." He waved the packaged condom playfully.

"Hm." She smiled. "I didn't have something special in mind when I said that, but I do now." Temperance raised an eyebrow, noting his widening eyes. She crooked a finger at him. "Move closer to me, please."

"Ah, alright." He took two steps toward her. Tentatively, he proffered the square packet with the circular impression, staring down at her where she sat on the bed. His mouth opened, index finger prodding the air.

"If you are about to share any facts with me, please make sure they are directly related to what we are doing, Vincent." She didn't want to be hit with another torrent of trivia but understood that his nervous habit might be better redirected than completely suppressed. Temperance took the condom from him.

"Yes, of course." He took a deep breath. "Did you know that the oldest written guide to sexual activity was not the Kama Sutra but the Chinese Handbooks of Sex, enscribed by Emperor Huang-Ti during his reign from 2697 to 2598 BC? The first western publication to document sexual positions and habits wasn't written until the fifteenth century, in the form of the Speculum al Foderi. It really shows the difference in sexual mores between – guh . . ."

Using her mouth, Temperance concentrated on unrolling the condom over his penis, noting with some satisfaction that not only had he stopped talking but his erection was regaining its earlier level of engorgement. Even close-up, he smelled quite nice. Holding the condom in place at the base of his shaft with one hand, she let his now-covered penis slip from her mouth, using the knuckles of her other hand to gently tease his scrotum, causing him to gasp. "Have you given any thought to which sexual position you would like to try first?"

"Try?" A smile stretched his mouth, an odd contrast to the crimp between his eyebrows. "I intend to succeed." Blue eyes meeting hers, he winked, his cheeks flushed as he bent toward her, his mouth catching her own.

She felt his cool fingers pressing her shoulders backward and allowed him to push her back onto the bed. The mattress dipped as he climbed on with her, and she swung her legs to rest under him. Breaking the kiss, she examined his expression. "I am surprised that you are going for the missionary position. I was expecting you to be more creative."

He gave her that look again, the one that she believed might denote disbelief or uncertainty, though she could not be sure. With a single finger, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Actually, this is more of a variation on the missionary position, one I happen to enjoy in that it affords me the opportunity to view you as we . . . make love. If you don't mind."

"I don't mind, I just – oh!"

Vincent hoisted her left leg so that the crook of her knee rested on his shoulder. "With me so far?"

"Yes! There are several advantages to this p—" Temperance arched her back as he pressed inside of her, eyes closing for a moment. She considered gathering her thoughts and completing her sentence, but decided that it was unnecessary. Gazing up at him as he eased fully into her, she took in the intent look on his face. He's becoming more confident as we continue, she thought. Perhaps this will prevent him from spouting trivia while we're having sex. Although he will be spouting something. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she felt a grin slip onto her face.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes. Please continue."

He chuckled softly. "As you wish."

Pulling back so that the head of his penis was just inside the outermost ring of her vagina, he pushed back in – not too slow, not too fast. Vincent repeated the motion, maintaining a steady pace, one hand on her hip, the other on her leg. He was watching her as if fascinated by her reactions. She thought of a microscope, the upright portion focusing down on the slide beneath it. "Mmm . . . I'm the slide . . ."

"What?"

With one hand, she let go of the sheets she'd been gripping and caressed his abdomen. "Can you lean down to kiss me as you do this?"

"Think so." He moved closer, pressing her raised leg until her thigh was flat against her ribcage, her knee dimpling her left breast. Continuing to slip in and out of her, he met her mouth in a kiss that was sloppier than their earlier kisses but made up for it in eagerness. One hand came up to cup her right breast, thumb brushing her nipple.

Averting her face to catch her breath, Temperance simply let herself feel. Lips worked her neck and ear now, one hand gentle at her breast, the other hand gripping her leg – he was deep inside her, relentless, steady, coaxing more slickness from her. She was reaching that point, the one where her verbal abilities sharply declined, her mind quite focused but more on sensations than facts. "Ohhh . . ." Orgasm was likely at least minutes away, but she was building toward it – she felt it pulling her forward.

"Am I hitting the right spot for you, or would you like me to shift?" His words, spoken breathily at her ear.

"I . . . you are, yes, but . . . if you would like to shift, I am comfortable with that." She disliked struggling to form sentences at this point during sex, but she knew she had to provide some feedback. This is still an experiment, after all, she thought, watching as he leaned back, still maintaining his rhythm.

Vincent's lips were a deeper pink than usual, and he was breathing with his mouth open. "I'm going to turn you over, and penetrate you from behind. Do you –"

"Vaginally? Or anally?"

"Um, vaginally. Unless you'd prefer . . ."

"No, no, vaginally is good." She didn't mind anal penetration, but disliked the inevitable clean-up.

"Good, OK." He swallowed. "Would you prefer to face completely away from me, or to do sort of a twist so you can, er, see what I'm doing?"

"Oh, twisting. I want to observe you."

"Right then." He nodded, stopping his motion. "Let's see if I can, unh . . ." He pulled back without exiting her, moving her bent leg in front of him, causing her hips to twist to the side. Pressing completely inside her again, he rolled her until her left knee met the bed, moving with her.

Shoving the covers further out of their way, she threw a look over her shoulder at him, tossing the hair out of her eyes. "How would you like me to twist?"

"This way." His voice was soft, his hands gentle as he guided her shoulders so that one was above the other. "Is this too troublesome to maintain?"

"No. I just – I can't keep my hips facing fully downward in this position." Temperance shifted to rest on her right elbow, hand on her cheek.

"That's alright. This is actually a bit more like side penetration anyway. I wanted to make sure you were . . . comfortable."

"I am." She felt calmer but still aroused. "Do you need me to do anything special?"

Vincent smiled, eyes closing briefly. "Just be who you are. That's special enough."

"Well, I could scarcely be anyone else – oh . . ."

He resumed his pace, the angle of penetration changing the sensation somewhat. He was brushing her g-spot without hitting it directly, which both excited and frustrated her. She considered saying something about it when he increased his tempo, making her gasp. Long fingers gripped her, and she felt herself arching into him. With her right hand, she pressed against the headboard to keep them from inching up the mattress and with the left she gripped the sheets behind her. That point was returning – words were becoming difficult to string together again.

Muscle tension amplified the intensity. Through half-lidded eyes, she regarded him, the mess of his black hair jostling each time he connected with her. His cheeks were pink, as was his chest – the swath of hair adorning his sternum could not mask it. With each thrust, he was rougher. Vincent's body angled closer. The pace had increased again – she had missed the change, but felt him give a twist each time he slammed home now. He seemed to be mumbling something. She couldn't make it out. Too close. She felt her own voice more than she heard it. Sensation, building. Like a bolt of electricity, it roared through her – heat, light, pleasure. Too much, it's too much. She became aware that she was breathing heavily, that she was coated in sweat, that she was shaking. She looked up in time to see Vincent's face contort. He gave a short, sharp cry, his rhythm suddenly erratic, and shuddered to a stop, resting against her, and within her.

"Blast." He breathed into her side.

"Hmm? Is something wrong?"

"Was rather hoping to maintain that a bit longer . . ." Raising his head, he met her eyes with a half-smile.

"I don't see why. I clearly reached orgasm before you did."

"Well, yes, I had noticed that." He drew his hand along her side. "I suppose I was hoping to get you there a few more times before I did."

"That is very giving of you, but unnecessary. Also, I tend to be somewhat sensitive right after reaching orgasm, so the odds of your 'getting me there' had you continued were actually very low."

"Ah. Yes, that would have been frustrating." Vincent swallowed. "I suppose I should . . ." Leaning back, he slowly pulled out of her. "Is it alright if I discard this in your bathroom, or would you prefer I remove it from the premises?" He gestured toward his crotch.

"You mean the condom? I am not afraid of semen, Vincent."

He laughed, settling on his knees in front of her. "I imagine not, considering all the substances we come in contact with during our daily work. I just . . . didn't want to impose."

"It's no imposition. Actually," she sat up abruptly, "let me remove it."

"Oh, um, alright."

She shifted to a seated position and reached for him, noting his intake of breath as she carefully removed the condom, peeling it back and slipping it off increasingly flaccid flesh. "There." Fingers working, Temperance tied the open end like a small balloon.

"I wouldn't have spilled it."

"Hm?" She met his eyes. "Oh! I know that. You're very careful in the lab, so it stands to reason you would be careful here."

"Then why . . ." Vincent's eyes followed her as she climbed off the bed and stood. "What are you doing?"

"I'll be right back." Temperance walked briskly to the kitchen, unconcerned by her nudity. The parts of her that remained damp cooled as she moved, a distracting contrast to the parts of her that were warmer than usual. Opening the fridge, she placed the filled condom on a low shelf, near certain other lab-related items, before reclosing the door. She stretched, back arching, and felt her blood rush within her. A smile grew on her face, though she was not sure why.

When she re-entered the bedroom, she was somewhat surprised to see Vincent standing there with a hooded expression. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I don't think so . . ." His head tilted slightly. "Do you have a special means of disposing of condoms? I didn't notice a bin marked 'biohazard' though I wouldn't be entirely surpr—"

"Oh, no, no – I simply wanted to refrigerate your semen."

"You – that . . . er, why?"

"As a courtesy, I intend to run some tests on it. I will let you know your sperm density and whether any genetic anomalies are present."

His eyes went wide. "That has to be the strangest expression of courtesy I've ever heard."

"You said strange wasn't negative."

"I did, and I meant that, but," he paused, shaking his head, "well, I suppose as long as you're not sharing your results with the lab . . ."

"I will be sharing this with a lab – I know an excellent geneticist who will run the tests. You probably mean the lab at the Jeffersonian, though."

"Yes, I do." He was still frowning. "Not that I don't appreciate your courtesy, strange or not, but, um, why do you want to run tests on my semen? Is this part of your re-assessment?"

"No, not at all. I simply believe that it is important for people to be informed of how their bodies are functioning, and I thought you might like to know what condition your semen is in for any future reproductive prospects."

He blinked. "That . . . That is very, er, considerate."

"I promise I will be discreet about this."

Head bobbing, his lips pressed together. "I appreciate that."

"In fact, I would like to request that we do not discuss any part of this evaluation with or in front of anyone at the Jeffersonian. As I said earlier, this was more of a personal experiment. I hope I can count on you."

"Actually . . ." He laughed softly. "I suppose it is a fitting irony that, now that we have had a sexual experience together, I may not speak of it to anyone." Lips tight but quirked up at the edges, his gaze dropped to his feet. "My hyperbolic braggadocio while I was drunk would likely induce others to disbelieve me in any event, even if I were to say anything – which I most certainly will not." Vincent took a deep breath and nodded. "You have my word. I will keep our 'experiment,' as you put it, a secret."

"And I appreciate that."

She watched him, standing before her, still nude, his fingers twisting together, and came to a decision. She only hoped she had enough eggs.

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Author's Note: And now you know why I had to bump this to rated M. Hopefully this chapter isn't too graphic for THAT rating. I ended up splitting the original version of this chapter into two parts, since it would have been so much longer than the others, which is why Chapter 4 only has Dr. Brennan's PoV in it. Mr. Nigel-Murray's PoV will be in the next chapter, and then there should be one more. I think.

Thanks for reading!