A/N: once again, thank you so much to everyone for reading and reviewing, it's lovely. As I have assured many of you in my replies, I'm doing my very best to make up for the cliffhanger on the last chapter by upping the ante from smexiness to SMUT. Consider yourself warned. Seriously, there's more smut here than you can shake a graduated cylinder at. I hope you like it, though there is a distinct lack of plot in this chapter. Enjoy!

"Booth," I plead, my voice tinged with annoyance, "I said I'm fine."

"Bones, you got thrown into a wall, I'm allowed to worry."

Another voice interrupts our argument, "Look, I'm really, really sorry man –"

Booth whirls around to my "attacker" that he has handcuffed to the bed. "What did I tell you?!" he barks.

The young man looks down, "No talking."

"Right, no talking, as in don't talk," Booth growls before turning back to where I am seated on the edge of the mattress. He is kneeling beside me, his anger nearly palpable.

"Booth, there's no need to be so short with him, it was an accident," I chide. The young man looks at me with gratitude before a look from Booth causes him to cast his eyes downward again.

"You don't throw someone into a wall by accident, Bones," he reminds me with irritation.

"He thought I was an intruder, Booth, he had no way of knowing I was with the FBI," I add.

The boy lifts his head again, "I really didn't know, man, I swear I didn't!"

Booth looks at him, his gaze steely, and the boy's face grows pale, his lips pressed together. Once he is sure there will be no further outbursts from our captive, Booth turns his attention back to me, his expression softening as he runs a thumb along my jaw. His eyes are full of concern and I wince as his fingers play along the edges of the bruises starting to form. There is also a decent gash, approximately two and a half inches in length, above my right eyebrow.

As it turns out, this young man is our victim's boyfriend. He'd come to check in on her after he hadn't heard from her, and we'd walked in on him. It's a good thing for us that it had been him, and not her killer. It's a good thing for him that Booth didn't shoot first and ask questions later. In all honesty when he had come bursting into the room, gun drawn, it looked like he might do just that. With all his gentleness, it can be easy to forget how lethal Booth is.

He leans in close to me, and I become uncertain whether it was the blow to my head, or his proximity that has me feeling light-headed. He puts his hand on my thigh and I confirm that it is Booth after all. "Well I called in an ambulance as well as the PD, just in case."

"Booth! That's completely unnecessary," I protest.

"Humor me, Bones, please," he replies. His tone is light but I can see the real concern in his eyes, and it is enough to stop me from arguing further. "Thank you," he says gently. I stare into his eyes, wanting to kiss him and knowing now is not the time.

"So…am I going to be arrested?" the boyfriend asks, his hand raised tentatively as though he is a student in a classroom.

Booth rolls his eyes but I see that most of his anger is gone. "Well, I don't know. You attacked an employee of the FBI, what do you think, bucko?"

The young man's face goes pale as his hand drops, the handcuff clanking against the bedpost. "Honestly, I didn't know, dude. I didn't even see she was a girl! I would never hit a girl on purpose." I feel the strong desire to interject with a feminist remark but Booth shoots me a warning look. "All I know is I came here to find Cory's place ransacked and then you guys show up, I mean what would you have thought?"

Booth freezes. "You mean her place isn't normally like this?"

The kid looks around, eyes wide, "No way. She's a neat freak. If I even leave a dish in the sink she blows a gasket." Booth and I exchange a knowing look. Someone has been to her home, possibly to destroy evidence. "Can I ask…" the kid says timidly, "why are you guys here, anyway?"

Booth's face darkens as he realizes what must be done. He takes a breath, and I give him a reassuring nod as he turns to this boy and says, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

XX

I watch Booth from my vantage point in the back of the ambulance as he questions the boyfriend, whose name we have learned is Nate. The lights of the police cars wash Booth's face an alternating red and blue, distorting the features I have come to know so well.

A sharp sting to my forehead brings my attention to the task at hand, as the paramedic cleans my cuts. Her hair is a pale, pale blond, and it seems to absorb the color of the police lights as well, making her look like a punk rocker. I suppress the laugh that rises in my chest at the thought, I don't want her thinking I might have done any permanent brain damage.

The wound is cleaned and she applies sterile strips of tape to keep it closed. "I don't think you have a concussion, Ms. Brennan," she explains, and I opt not to correct her on my name. Instead I am mentally admonishing Booth as I had already told him this several times. "Just keep the wound clean and avoid alcohol for the next 24 hours, okay?"

I nod and thank her, and she steps aside as Booth walks over, his face grim. I find myself irrationally wishing the paramedics had a bandage for this as well. His hand reaches up to the cut on my head, the tips of his fingers skimming the edges of the protective strips of tape. "Are you alright?" he whispers.

"Yes, I'm fine. I told you I would be fine. I don't even have a concussion," I assure him. I can see that he is already blaming himself and I stare into his eyes. "Don't, Booth."

"Don't what?" he asks, but I know he understands my meaning. I can see his guilt in the slump of his shoulders, in the way he looks at my bruised arms.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I should have done a proper sweep."

"Why would you have?" I ask, anger rising quickly in my chest. "She lived alone, the manager mentioned nothing about a boyfriend, the front door showed no signs of forced entry…need I go on?" He says nothing, only continues to look down at me, and I know we will not see eye to eye on this. I sigh, and I want to rest my head on his chest but there are too many people around, and suddenly I am cursing them all.

"Come on, Booth," I slide off the back of the truck and he goes to put his hand on my back, but he catches the eye of some officers and quickly drops it to his side instead. "We have to get that serving tray to the lab," I remind him as we approach the car. The crime techs have arrived to scour the apartment for trace evidence, their jackets flashing in the lights from the cop cars. "And then I want you to take me home," I add.

I watch his face and I can see that he doesn't understand my meaning. He somberly unlocks the door and we slide into our seats. His hands are gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles have gone white. He doesn't realize that when I said "take me home", I intended for him to join me.

I smile to myself secretly.

He will.

XX

The night is quiet.

I stand on my balcony, looking out at the city below me. The frigid winter air bites at my skin. I'm not wearing a jacket because this is exactly what I wanted. This jagged, prickling feeling the cold gives me, like razor sharp fingernails digging into my flesh, takes my mind off the things I might be thinking of otherwise, anchors me here to this moment, to life.

I take a deep breath in and look up at the stars. They glitter above me like bright, icy daggers. I can now see why ancient civilizations used to be so obsessed with them, marvel at their beauty without ever knowing what they really were. It was Booth who taught me to look at the stars. It is him who sometimes makes me forget what they really are, too. Not burning balls of gas. Just beautiful.

He steps out onto the balcony behind me, the warmth from my apartment is there at my back. He comes to stand next to me, his strong arms leaning on the railing but not touching me. He says nothing, just follows my eyes to the sky. Both of our minds are heavy with our work. He with the burden of having to tell a young man that the woman he loves is dead; me with the knowledge that at this very moment Eli knows that he has no one in this world. Except perhaps Annie Daniels, if she chooses that life for herself.

I can't help myself as I begin to draw parallels between myself and this boy I have never met. Nor can I help the nearly overwhelming feeling of protectiveness I have towards him. These cases strike so close to the bone for me, they always have. I wish that no one, especially no child, would ever have to feel that emptiness of knowing there isn't anyone to wonder where you are anymore; and it breaks my heart to know that is a hope that will never be realized.

Booth heaves a sigh beside me, his breath pluming out in a misty vapor, trailing out like a ghost into the night. I know what he has had to do tonight weighs heavily on him. Something like that is never easy on a person, especially not someone so sensitive as Booth.

I look over at him, his face serious in the light of the moon, parts cast into shadow. I reach out and take his hand, pulling it from where it rests on the railing and wrapping it around my waist, tucking myself into him. He responds immediately, pulling me tightly up against him, winding his other hand through my hair, trailing them across my cervical vertebra, making me shiver. The night air hits my scalp and it feels so painfully good.

My hands are trailing lightly along his spine as I nuzzle my face into his neck, wanting to feel his pulse against my lips. I press my mouth onto this sensitive spot on his neck, so gently that I think perhaps he won't even notice.

He notices.

He does the same thing to me, his fingers slowly sweeping away my hair to give him access to this part of my body. His lips descend on my skin, open and wet, I feel his teeth scraping gently and my fingers instinctively clutch at the fabric of his shirt as I let out a breath quickly. The cloud of my exhalation disappears into the sky, perhaps to join Booth's breath, wherever the wind has taken it.

The stars shine down on us, their ethereal light illuminating the paths we take across each other's bodies, with our hands, our mouths. I trail kisses up his jaw line, my mouth becoming more insistent, my hands more eager to feel this man beneath them, to have him bend at their will.

Our breath comes faster now, and I no longer feel the chill in the air, my own body burning with the heat he conjures within me. When we met, there were only a few embers left on the fire that was my heart. He kindled them with his own heart for so long, the fire slowly growing over the years, a slow burn turning to a healthy, merrily crackling flame, and now, into an uproarious eruption like none other felt within my body. At first I was afraid it might consume me, now that is all I want.

To lose myself in him. To let go of everything and just exist, just feel. And that is precisely what is happening. I feel as though my body has been reduced to a vast network of nerve endings, the soft silken fibers of which he is playing like a concert violinist. As he sweeps my shirt from my body, goose bumps rippling across my flesh, we catch each other's eyes and both recognize in each other this feeling of…rightness. As though everything in our lives was leading up to this.

We come together again, the buttons of his shirt cold on my bare skin. I work my fingers nimbly down the front of his shirt, flicking them each open as he delves into my mouth, his tongue sliding along the ridges of the roof of my mouth, as though he is cataloguing every groove. I can barely control my shaking hands as I remove the last of the buttons, pushing the fabric down over the thickness of his biceps, breaking away from his mouth to sweep my tongue along his clavicle

I see that he has yet another layer on under his dress shirt, and he laughs gently at my frustrated growl as I pull it from his body, watch his nipples harden in the winter air. I slide my hands around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair as our bare bellies touch.

I slide my front along his and I feel the vibration in his chest as he growls at the friction. I know that this time, with this built-up, maddening desire, and the need we both have to forget what needs to be forgotten, if only for a moment, it will all be over quickly. But even as I come to this realization, I vow that next time it will be slow, and I will take the time to go over each and every square inch of this body. Learn it like I know my own. Because to me, it is already mine.

His strong fingers knead the flesh of my back; pressing me up against him so tightly not a sliver of light could fit between us. I gasp as I feel his erection, thick and hard as steel, against my leg. He snaps the back of my bra expertly with his fingers and it comes undone, the straps wilting around my shoulders. I break free from him to shrug it off, and he holds my gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes to my breasts. I can feel him becoming even harder against me as he takes in the sight of me, and it makes me feel very, very good.

Because while I have never cared to know the opinions of other men on my body, this time I care very much. He bends and I instinctively lean back, my arms hooking around his neck as he runs his tongue around my left nipple. My mouth drops open and my head falls back as he closes his mouth around my breast and does things I didn't even know were possible with his tongue.

I am panting, gasping, crying out his name, as I stare up at the night sky, the stars above me blurring into a swirling galaxy as my eyes fill with grateful tears. I am grateful, so grateful, for this moment. The stars spread and stretch and I feel like I am flying through space, like I have left my body and am experiencing something of another plane of existence.

He switches to my other breast and I am pressing myself against his mouth so hard, my eyes beginning to roll back in my head. I am begging him though I couldn't say what for, but it's all becoming too much and I pull his lips from my chest and bring his mouth to mine, needing to feel him more, so much more than this.

My fingers rake at his belt buckle, and he pushes my hands gently away when it is clear that in my frenzied state I cannot achieve what I want to so badly.

He undoes his buckle and I pull the leather through the belt loops, casting the belt behind me. It lands on the ground, clicking against the glass of the sliding door.

His pants are pooled around his ankles now and there is only a thin layer of cotton separating my hands from him, but his hands are at my pants now, evening the score. He sinks his teeth gently into my shoulder as he yanks my pants and underwear down, kneeling to help me step out of them. He kisses the insides of my thighs as he stands, and my knees are shaking with anticipation and pent up desire.

I yelp as his mouth comes so close to my centre that his breath nearly burns my sensitive flesh. He comes to stand upright and we stare at each other for another second, frozen in this moment. This is it.

I throw my arms around his neck and he picks me up by the thighs. My strong legs wrap around his waist and now his throbbing erection is pressed against me though the cotton of his underwear. I let out a sob as some of the excruciating pressure is relieved, and slide myself against the length of him.

He groans and spins, pressing me up against the glass of the sliding door. The cold of the glass against the searing heat of my flesh makes me gasp. His mouth comes down hotly over mine and we are grinding against each other, panting, pushing until I am nearly crying with frustration.

I pull away from him, unwrapping my legs and letting go of him long enough to rip off his boxers. The size of him is like nothing else I have ever seen, and my body shivers in anticipation. I step forward and take him in my hand, and it is his turn to drop his head back, his eyes sliding shut as my fingers take in the length of him.

But before I have even begun he pushes my hands away and picks me up again, the bare length of him pressed against the hot, slickness of my center. I slide along him again, my chest tight with emotion, adoration and excitement, anticipation and wonder, all mixed with an intoxicating lust like nothing I have ever known, and a love so deep I think it might make me crack into a million tiny pieces.

I feel him entering me and I can't help the high-pitched whimper that escapes my mouth. He is breathing my name from where his face is buried between the sticky heat of my breasts, and he is moving so slowly I feel as though time might have stopped.

But all too soon he is so deep within me, deeper than any man has ever gone, both literally and figuratively, and I feel complete. I am whole, with a fullness that surprises me, as I had never even realized I was missing something until this very second.

He pulls back to look into my eyes for yet another moment, and I see what he is telling me.

This is making love.

He pushes into me and I wrap my legs even tighter around him, making him groan as he thrusts again. He pushes futher and further, and the sensation is like nothing I could have ever imagined. It's as though my body is allowing me to feel things, sensations, it had been storing for this night, for this man.

We press into each other, trying to do exactly what he spoke of one night, in the dim light of the diner, trying to occupy the same place, to become one. He is whispering my name as he presses kisses to my throat, my eyelids, my ears, any flesh he can find. I am calling his name back as I take him in even farther, squeezing the muscles of my lower abdomen to feel him as much as I can, to make him feel me as much as is possible.

I run my tongue along his throat, I sink my short nails into his flesh, as behind us the lights of the city glow and shine, as if in encouragement. My back is sliding against the glass now, the moisture created from our coupling making it slick with sweat. Our rhythms are becoming more frantic, and it's difficult to keep my eyes open as I feel the beginnings of something, a white-hot light that starts at the edges of my vision, that prickles at the tips of my toes.

I call for him not to stop, don't ever, ever, ever, ever stop, as this whiteness builds, the power of it growing with every thrust into my body. I am so desperate for this release, and so scared that it might not come, that I am wildly pressing myself harder and harder into him, gritting my teeth. He is begging me to keep my eyes open and I try, I really try. I catch glimpses of his face, of the night sky, the moon, the city, and soon they are all melding into one, a string of images that blur and mix and weave together until the white heat that has gathered in my body sews them all together and shatters them, ripping through my body with such force that I know he feels it too. I scream, my throat constricting, as his name echoes off the side of this apartment building and into the winter night. The whiteness has ripped through my whole body, exploded across my eyes until my retinas have been burned and I cannot see anything, only feel Booth releasing himself as well, and falling into me, we are falling together.

Tears are hot on my cheeks and I am gasping for breath as we sink to the ground, still joined. I feel ice-cold drops of rain splash against my searing skin, and the sensation is almost too much for my exhausted nerves to take. The rain comes down harder now, splattering over our heaving bodies, the ground beside us, plinking against the banister, trailing across my back to land on his chest. After a while, as our breathing has slowed and the rain has cooled our bodies, Booth lifts me into his arms for the second time and carries me inside. I find myself thinking, as he turns us to shut the door, that I had thought it was too cold for rain, that perhaps the heat from our lovemaking was enough to warm even the world around us.

I laugh at the idea to myself, and put my arms tighter around him as he slowly makes his way into my bedroom.

He kicks the door shut behind us and lays me down on the bed I have left unmade, which is so unlike me. I recall that I had been eager to get to his house this morning, and I smile to myself. How things had changed since them. How they have stayed the same, as well.

He lies down next to me and draws the sheets over our damp bodies, and I turn over and press my face into the crook of his neck, snuggling my body up against him as tightly as I can.

He strokes my hair as my eyelids become heavier, and just before I succumb to the call of sleep, he whispers into my ear, the culmination of everything he has just shown me.

I lean back to look up at him. His face is not expectant; I know he doesn't need me to reassure him of my affections with a response, he is not that kind of man. I believe he just wanted me to hear it, because he knows that I haven't had those words spoken to me in a very long time.

I smile up at him, my chest tight with emotion, and whisper, "Prove it."

He laughs gently, rolling me onto my back and sliding his hand between my legs, where I am somehow, impossibly, even wetter than I was ten minutes ago. He groans and suddenly I am no longer the least bit tired.

He closes his mouth over mine and the whirlwind begins all over again.

XX

The grey light of morning is not a welcome sight to my sleep deprived body.

I stand, disentangling myself from Booth long enough to rip down my shades and slide back into the warmth of the covers. My muscles are aching with the familiar twinge that comes only after a night of sex, and I stretch slightly before curling myself against Booth, my head on his shoulder as he lies languidly on his back, both arms thrown above his head now.

Feeling me against him he instinctively snakes his arm around the bare skin of my waist, pulling me to him. Just as I have settled, my alarm goes off on the bedside table and I lunge over to shut it off. My fingers fumble across the chunky plastic buttons, until in frustration I pull the entire thing from the table, plug and all, and fling it to the ground.

I can feel Booth laughing as I resettle myself against him for the second time, my breasts pressed against the bare flesh of his chest, and I reach up and put a hand over his mouth. "Shh. It's too early."

He speaks from behind my fingers, "Well you wouldn't have such trouble waking up if you hadn't insisted on taking advantage of me last night."

My head snaps up and I see his eyes twinkling with mirth. I press my lips into a firm line, scowling at him as I release my grip on his mouth and snake my slender fingers ever southward until they are wrapped around another part of him. His eyes widen and his mouth opens a fraction as he grunts my name.

"I'm sorry, Agent Booth, you were saying something?" I snicker, squeezing him gently in my hand.

He cries out and I feel a wicked grin slide across my face. "I take it back, I take it back!" he whispers frantically as my thumb swipes over the head of him and he jerks in my hand.

"You do?" I ask, kissing him hard on the mouth. I feel him nod against me as my fingers work a steady rhythm on his hot flesh. His strong arms lock around me and pull me slowly on top of him, pressing my heat against his now very rock-hard self.

My legs straddling his body, I lay the top half of myself against him, taking his earlobe in my mouth. My tongue snakes out and he cries out my name. I know I will never get sick of hearing this, know it like I know the bones of the human body. I can feel him throbbing against me and as I lift myself to pull him into me, he flips us over.

I squeal, which is not something I can say I do very often, and he laughs at my surprise. He takes the tip of himself and slides it along my opening, up and down, over and over until I am bucking against him.

"What was that, Dr. Brennan?" he asks, his eyes full of malice. I whine and press my body against his, squirming under him to try and get what I want so badly, what I know we both want.

"Booth!" I growl, "please."

"Please what?" he asks, sucking on my bare nipple quickly before releasing it. I cry out, and damn him in the same breath.

"Unnnnnnnnnnnh what do you want me to say?!" I plead, no longer caring that he is winning this game, only caring about the outcome. I writhe under him and I know it is taking a lot of will power for him to resist me.

My chest is heaving and my body is alive with sensation. I marvel at what he can do to me. My hands are pulling at his torso as he says, "I want you to say, 'you win, Agent Booth, I will never tease you like that again.'"

"Fine! Fine, you win, Agent Booth."

"And?" he asks, sliding the tip of him just inside of me, until the top half of my torso leaves the bed and I am nearly crying with frustration.

"And I will never tease you like that again! Okay?! Now fuck me. Hard." I reply, hooking a leg behind him and driving him inside of me. I know the only reason I got the upper hand was because of being so vulgar, seeing his mouth drop open at my use of profanity.

But he needs no further encouragement as he drives himself inside me over and over, and I can think of no other better way to wake up. Who needs an alarm clock when you have Seeley Booth? Our bodies meet time and again, and I find the breath to whisper, "By the way, I was lying, I will most definitely tease you again."

He laughs as he puts a hand on my waist and pulls me even tighter into him, making me scream. "We'll see, Dr. Brennan."

In the heat of the moment it takes me a second for my brain to acknowledge the sound of Booth's cell phone buzzing from his jeans pocket on the floor. "Don't you dare answer that," I pant, as I see his eyes deciding between me and the device on the floor.

"It might be Parker," he gasps, thrusting into me hard enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. The love for his son is the only excuse I would ever accept for him to stop doing what he is doing to me, and I open my eyes to show him this, nodding quickly. Thinking he is going to get up, I am surprised when he leans over the bed, our bodies still joined, and grabs his phone.

He stops moving but he is still inside me, and as he flips his phone open he lovingly sweeps a strand of hair from my forehead that has been plastered to me with sweat. As soon as he realizes who is on the phone, his eyes widen a fraction, and he mouths the word "Cullen".

At the knowledge that he is not speaking to his son, a wicked thought overcomes me, and he sees it happening, his mouth dropping open in fear. As he speaks to his boss, I get my revenge for earlier by squeezing my inner muscles around him, and he has to fake a coughing fit to cover the groan that escapes him.

I laugh to myself as I see him debate sliding off of me, and knowing he won't be able to bring himself to do it. I start to squirm underneath him, starting a sort of one-sided rhythm, until he is forced to move the mouthpiece away from his lips to muffle the noises he is making.

I can feel his resolve crumbling and soon he is matching my rhythm, grinding into me as his boss yammers to him from his office downtown. I start to whimper as I can feel myself beginning to come, and he clamps his hand down over my mouth, driving ever harder into me as he nods and says "Uh-huh, okay…y-yep that sounds good."

I press his hand tighter over my mouth as I rock against him, the white light that I have come to associate with him and him alone filling my body, and causing a scream to build in my throat.

He is squeezing his eyes shut now in a valiant effort to remain quiet as he continues to plunge into me. "Yeah, boss. Okay! Yep! Uh-huh. What's that? No that sounds fine to me! Yeah, okay!"

He is trying desperately to get off the phone as he sees my imminent orgasm beginning to come, and I let out the beginnings of a strangled scream as he reaches down to press a silencing kiss to my mouth, the phone still pressed firmly to his ear. I can now even catch snatches of the conversation as he continues to thrust into me and the world starts to crash around my shoulders. The conversation is over at last and he slams the phone shut and releases my mouth, allowing the stifled scream of his name to finally be released, only to join his own cries as he comes with me.

My heart is pounding as he falls next to me, and I look over at him, laughter bubbling up in my chest. He turns to me, his face incredulous. "What?!"

"See?" I ask, rolling over to press a wet, lazy kiss to his mouth. "I told you I wasn't going to keep teasing you."

"Well," he pants, biting my neck playfully, "you just better watch out, Dr. Brennan."

"Oh?" I ask, sitting up and throwing back the covers.

"Yes," he answers, following me as I head for the shower.

"And why is that?" I inquire, starting the water, testing it with my hands as I sit on the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain biting into my skin.

"Because, my dear, this is war."

A/N well I hope you liked it, please do let me know what you thought! Also I just have to say that the lastest episode had me laughing out loud, I hope all the Americans watching it tonight enjoy it as much as I did! (God bless those Canadian air dates) Love to you all!

-MC