Dec. 16th: Seriously_what chose the word "skirt".

OOOOO

In the past, Booth had always wondered if she did it on purpose: the subtle hitch of her skirt rising above her knee as she crossed her legs, the way she provocatively bent over a table or desk at the lab, and God, when she hailed a taxi. He always pretended he didn't notice, but she could never know how much it undid him.

She'd bend over so sweetly and all he'd want to do is wrap his hands around her hips and hold her against him. His hands would itch to feel the smooth cotton or textured wool fabric under his hands and he'd have to leave the room under the temptation.

Even now, she was sitting in her kitchen, reading some sort of journal while he made them dinner and she had leaned over the counter to grab a slice of tomato from his cutting board while he was busy in the fridge. She'd thought she was being sneaky but he'd turned his head just enough to see the infraction out of the corner of his eye. The skirt around her thighs hitched ever so slightly and he knew it would haunt him all night long. But now, for the first time in their relationship, he could actually do something about it. He moved quickly but quietly before he missed his chance.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked quietly in her ear as he ran his hands lovingly over her hips.

"Eating your tomato." She confessed cheekily as she spun around in his arms. Her grin was wide and he wanted to pepper her entire face with kisses at the adorable sight but instead, his hands found their way over the sweet curve of her ass and he lifted her up onto the empty butcher's block behind them. She squealed at the action but wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him playfully.

"So, I have a confession." He whispered and her curiosity was piqued.

"Yeah?" She asked as she tugged on his tie.

"I have a thing for you in skirts." He said as he let his fingers draw small circles over the inside of knee. She arched her eyebrow at the knowledge.

"A thing? What does that mean 'a thing'?" She encouraged more details.

"Over the years I've noticed a direct correlation between you wearing one, and an increase in my blood pressure." He said. She bit her lip and smiled.

"Well, that's not good. I wear them a lot in the spring and summer." She informed him.

"Oh, I know." He grinned naughtily.

"How serious is this affliction? Should we take you in to get your heart examined?" She placed her hand over his heart

"It's beating pretty steadily right now." He assured her.

"Is it a certain kind of skirt or…"

"All of them." He assured her. She grinned at his quick and confident reply.

"Why?" She finally asked. He shrugged.

"Sometimes they hug your curves or they're loose and breezy. Sometimes they're soft and cotton or they're rough and wool, it honestly makes no difference."

"You have a thing." She stated, understanding now.

"I most definitely have a thing." He said as he ran his hands over her skirt once more. She looked at him for a moment.

"I have a thing." She admitted quietly. Booth showed his obvious surprise and she smiled a little at his reaction.

"What is it?" He asked, dying to know. She paused, drawing him into her as if proximity could answer his question.

"You." She said simply and Booth was certain he felt his heart explode, right there in his chest. He kissed her and his heart soared with happiness. Unable to resist, he pushed himself up onto the butcher's block and laid her out beneath him. He pushed her skirt up around her waist and she fumbled enough with his belt and fly to release his erection.

And then he was inside her.

He didn't think he would ever get enough of the way her warm body yielded to his, and judging by the breathy sounds she made, she wouldn't either.

Booth set a fast pace, needing her desperately and still she begged for more. He bit at her neck as her hands wrapped themselves in his hair. The wanton noises she was making were downright obscene and he was certain that the neighbors could probably hear them but Booth didn't care. He was frantic for her. She shattered beneath him on a scream and he let himself follow, her muscles seizing around him and milking him dry.

He swore to himself under his breath as he came to his senses, unsure of what had just happened but knowing the whirlwind had been worth it. Brennan lay beneath him motionless, looking totally ravaged and if he hadn't just taken her on her kitchen counter, he damn well would have after seeing the image. He kissed her throat and nuzzled his nose against her chin before slipping off her and forcing his feet to find the floor. He fell onto the closest chair he could find and looked at the ceiling. Brennan propped herself up onto her elbows to see where he had gone before chuckling and falling back onto the counter.

"Oh my God." She groaned as she ran a hand over her messy hair. "That was…"

"I know." Booth agreed.

"Even for us." She added as she swung her legs around to the edge of the counter. He opened his arms and she gladly climbed into his lap.

"I lost my God damn mind." He confessed as he burrowed in her soft hair. "You're dangerous, Bones." He whispered as he let his free hand cup the back of her neck. "One syllable from you and I can't even say my own name."

"Booth." She hummed, simultaneously mocking him and turning him inside out.

"Just like that. I could barely function before. How am I supposed to now that I know what you look like, sprawled out on your kitchen counter, totally fucked?" She fairly whimpered at his unfiltered words and her legs spread again, silently bidding him to enter her.

"Take me to bed, Booth." She purred against his neck. "I want you to fuck me until neither one of us can move." She murmured, getting her revenge by using her own coarse language. He knew what she was doing, but he didn't care. He promptly lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.

They could have it out there.