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The first time it happened, well, Booth had hoisted his partner Temperance Brennan up on the kitchen counter and they fucked right then and there.
The next few times it was his kitchen high top (too high for some things, perfect height for him having an entirely different sort of meal), his stadium seats (decidedly more uncomfortable than his teenage fantasies imagined), his couch, her couch, her other couch, her other-other couch, and goddamn however many couches and counters she had, he was gonna fuck her on them.
He was a lucky man, he really was. Only, sometimes, it was, well…
Any other time in his life, a naked woman lounging around his home would be the dream. Ultimate teen fantasy when having your own place was everything you could hope for. No Pops snoopin’ around, no cops shining flashlights at the car window, just him and a smoking hot babe. Totally fantastic.
Only she kept doing it, even when he was trying to watch the game or fold laundry or eat dinner and she was just there, naked. Very naked, leggy long legs, shapely assets, big..
“Bones, I mean, I love it, but give a guy a break, huh?”
She looked up from the anthropology journal she was reading, sprawled out on the couch. The effect would have been seductive if it wasn’t for the desiccated mummy thing printed on the cover, presently half-concealing her breasts.
Her look was perplexed, mouth twisted in that cute little frown.
“I don’t understand your meaning.”
“Y’just…” he waved in her general direction. “…y’know?”
A blank stare.
“D’ya ever wear clothes or like…”
Rapid blinking, computer processing. Then her face fell and she tried to half-cover herself on purpose this time, pulling the book open against her front.
“You are bothered by my nudity.” It was a statement not a question. Then a beat. “You find me unpleasant to look at.” She nodded like she had expected this and rose to leave.
He caught her wrist.
“Nonono Bones, it’s not that. Very, very appealing, big fan. I just…”
The look on her face was already so distant, she might as well have been fully dressed in her damn lab coat. Shit.
“Bones, hey, hang on.”
He gave her arm a shake, trying to mentally pull her back, but the stubborn woman plowed on.
“I will return to my apartment and no longer—“
“Bones.” She tried to pull her hand away but he just let her pull him along. They were at the threshold of his bedroom before she let him stop her.
Pretty sure she wasn’t going to dash out on to the street without her clothes on, he let her go, giving her space. He tried, oh he tried, not to look at her, uh, feminine assets. Still, the view was so distracting he lost his train of thought.
The way she hugged herself and that hurt-confused look on her face pulled him back. Keep it together, horn-dog.
“Well?” Hugging herself had turned into crossing her arms, frown turned to a scowl. She was always good at that, turning her uncertainty into hostility.
“Sorry. I just meant that…” he scrubbed at his hair, trying to figure out the least-humiliating way to say it. “I just, it’s the last thing a guy wants to admit is that he can’t keep up, but uh. Y’know.” He waved a general hand at her naked self.
She stared blankly.
He tried again.
“Y’know like I guess maybe you could make the argument that possibly I’m a little bit older than you and like—God Bones, this is humiliating, do I really gotta spell this out?”
“You don’t need to spell any words, just speak them and explain their meaning if necessary.” He was pretty sure she wasn’t being difficult on purpose. Probably.
“Yer gorgeous and I just, y’know, want to be appreciative but sometimes I just— you’re just naked all the time and I can’t always be— I know you think I’m ‘perpetually seeking intercourse’ or however you put it, but sometimes I’m not and—“
“You feel we are having too much intercourse?” Her expression was perplexed, but not hostile or hurt, which he took as a good sign.
“No. Yes? I don’t know, you’re just like, naked all the time and I’m not always up for it—I mean, I am, but...” He scrambled for any purchase, trying to find something to grab on to that would make her understand without him literally chopping his balls off and handing them over.
She blinked. She stared. And then, worst of all, she put on that obnoxious, smug ‘Ah, you poor illiterate fool’ face.
“You recognize that by assuming any nudity is an attempt to initiate sexual intercourse is just further proof that you are, in fact, always thinking about intercourse.” Her posture shifted from concealing herself to open and on display, that smug look on her face knowing exactly what it did to him. “I am not attempting to seduce you just because I happen to not be wearing clothes. The natural human state is only inherently erotic if you think—“
“Okay okay okay, I get it, you’re a nudist,” he rolled his eyes at the ceiling, trying not to look at her. Except that proved her point. So he looked at her, and God she was gorgeous, the way waves of auburn hair just tickled at nipples, soft and dark and inviting, making his—
“Dammit Bones.” His eyes were back on the ceiling for his own good.
“Just because I spend time in my own or your home naked does not make me part of a particular cultural subgroup. It simply makes me a human not wearing clothing at the time.”
His face was hot, he knew he was blushing, which just made this worse. How had this spiraled—
But then there were strong fingers pulling his chin down, making him face those blue-gray eyes.
“Booth.” She waited until he met her eyes. “If I am naked, I am not necessarily initiating sexual activities. You do not need to feel obliged to sexually perform every time you see me naked.”
“But…” he whined. “It— I get all— y’know?”
“Booth I would be much more able to answer your questions if you would finish your sentences.” Her smile was wry. He would swear she did know what he was trying to say, but was forcing him to spell it out.
“I…” he grit his teeth. Took a breath. Refused to let her smirk at him like that and get away with it. Sometimes simple was best, so he just said it.
“You turn me on. I can’t help it.” There was the faintest whine to his voice, some part of him begging—no—politely requesting mercy.
“Would you prefer I wear more clothing?” There wasn’t guile in her voice, she was really asking.
“No!” He answered before his brain caught up. “I mean, maybe? Fuck Bones, I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Quite a conundrum.” She tapped a finger on her chin thoughtfully, somehow doing it so her upper arms pressed her breasts together in an entirely flattering, distracting way. God, she was just…
“Booth.” She smirked, catching him looking. Her lopsided grin showed teeth, a predatory glint of canine. He was so hopelessly lost.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done.” She sighed dramatically, pushing past him to return to the couch, still nothing on. “I find there’s no choice but exposure therapy.” She flopped back on to the cushions, sitting smug with her anthropology journal back in hand.
Head in his hands, Booth inhaled, exhaled, tried to pull himself back to center. Well if this was her game, two could play at that.
“Oka~ay, Bones, whatever you say,” his voice was sing-song as he made his way back to the couch. She was sprawled out across the cushions, lounging against an armrest, so he had to lift her very naked legs to make a spot for himself. She played at ignoring him, feigning interest in her journal instead. She made no comment as she let him pull her legs over his lap.
For a while, it was just that, the sound of the tv, the occasional muttering to herself or turn of a page. Just a pretty naked lady sprawled over Booth’s lap to the sound of the Flyers on ice.
Only, his hand had a tendency to wander.
It wasn’t anything overtly sexual, it was just a gentle petting, stroking over the dark hair that gradually began below her belly button. It was sweet, affectionate, nails combing through softly, never wandering too close to anything really sensitive.
When this went on for some time without any escalation, she frowned at him over her journal. But his eyes were on the game; he was a man with a solid poker face. His fingers idly stroked up and down, his hand shifting to drag his knuckles along warming skin. But still he never strayed far from the crease of her thighs, almost chaste in his gentleness.
No matter his dedication to strictly petting her hair and avoiding the center seam of her, it didn’t change her body’s response to his wandering hand. When he danced his fingers past her clit for the fifth time without the decency of the faintest brush of fingers, she let out a huff.
“Hmm? What was that, Bones?” His face was all innocence, quashing the urge to smirk.
She let out a derisive snort and went back to reading her articles. A quick glance from the tv showed pink high on her cheeks, but he pretended not to notice.
He also politely pretended not to notice that as his fingers wandered lower, they came away wet.
And so it went on, his hand stroking up and down along her pubic hair and no where else. Maybe his fingers danced a little closer to her center seam, but his eyes were on the game and he always retreated before giving her too much pressure where she wanted it. She still played indifferent, though her toes curled anytime he got close.
He teased that way for a while, but he could be merciful. His two fingers trailed along her outer lips, just slightly pinching her clit as he passed. He didn’t look, his poker face on, but he swore he heard her growl in frustration.
At last, she caved.
“You have made your point regarding the distracting nature of prolonged arousal. However, I find that if you don’t tend more directly to the task at hand, I will have to take matters into my own hands.” Her disapproving teacher look glaring him down over the top of the magazine had the opposite of its intended effect. God damn, was she hot like that.
He cleared his throat, his famous gambler’s unreadable face giving way to a grin.
“Whadya mean, Bones?”
She glared.
His grin just widened. “What?”
“You are a very…” She trailed off, her expression shifting to uncertainty. “I cannot tell if you’re being serious.”
“Hmm!” His grin was all teeth.
“Booth.”
“Fine,” there was teasing her, but he’d never push her too far on purpose. In concession, he leaned forward to kiss her knee and, seeing her scowl, craned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. She rolled her eyes at him.
On the other hand, she didn’t complain at all when his fingers finally slipped between her lips, soothing slow strokes of fingerpads on clit. Her head lolled, releasing a groan of satisfaction. He curled closer around her, pulling her hips into his lap so he could rest his lips against her forehead.
His fingers were sure and steady, slowly teasing her open at the same pace as before. She had given up all pretense of reading, bucking at his touch and whining when she never quite got enough.
“More,” she groaned, the demand softened by the way her breathing had become shallow pants.
“Hmmmm.” His tone was non-committal, affirming he heard her but nothing more.
“Booth.” Her tone was getting more urgent.
“You’re alright, baby,” he cooed into her hair. “That’s it.”
If anything, his fingers had grown slower in their ministrations. She huffed, rocking against his hand to increase the friction. Her hands reached for his, trying to push him firmer against her center, but his other hand caught her wrists and gently held her back.
“Ssshhh, you’re okay, nice and slow, hmm?” His breathing was getting just as shallow, her squirming under his fingers everything he could want.
“Booth, more.” All that smarts reduced to single word orders did something real good for him.
He hummed in sympathy, needing to put a little more effort in keeping her hands away. He was merciless, letting her frantically buck her hips at his fingers but pulling away so she never got quite enough.
“Booth.” Oh she was getting there, the sternness in her voice turning from command into plea.
“You’re being so good for me, baby, so good.” He covered her forehead in kisses, nuzzling into her hair with all the sweetness he had, as if they were just cuddling and he wasn’t taking her to pieces.
“Boo-ooth, please.” Her voice was all whine, pleading and sweet.
“There’s that magic word.” He smiled into her hair and gave her everything she wanted.
He worked her, his thumb rubbing firm circles over that swollen clit, two then three fingers pressing inside of her, giving her something to clench down on as she rocked frantically. He gripped her tight, giving her everything he’d denied her and more. She cried out, pleading nonsense and his name until at last, she hit her peak and fell limp in his arms.
He let her lay there, reveling in her dizzy panting. She was limp, no protest to be found as he turned them, settling himself between her legs. Her eyes didn’t even open as she tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. He was only happy to oblige, freeing his untended cock from too-tight sweats and slipping easily into her still clenching core with a satisfied grunt.
He took her slow again, though this time there was no pretending anything was chaste. He rocked slow and sweet in and out of her, marveling at the way her deepest self clung to him. Her breathing quickened again, always fast on her recovery and eager for more. Her lips parted on panting sighs, eyes still closed in pleasure.
Apparently recovered from her post-orgasmic haze and tired of his games, she latched on to him to pull him deeper. Her legs wrapped around his hips and a hand pulled his head down into a deep kiss.
They rocked together like that, his hand returning to its rightful place between her legs. As hard as he pounded inside of her, his fingers were still gentle and sweet, strumming at her clit.
“Booth, please,” her voice was small between breathy panting, “please, please again.”
“I gotcha, baby, I got you. I always will.”
And so he did, bringing her up and over the edge, her spasming center bringing him crashing down with her. He collapsed on to her, pulling her body so close he could feel her heartbeat pulsing through him. He was too dizzy to do anything more than lazily mouth at her neck. The couch was just deep enough he could roll off her and prop himself up on his elbow.
“Mmmm…” she hummed satisfaction, finally opening her eyes. “That was… yes.”
He grinned. “Glad to hear it. I wasn’t sure if you were gonna thank me or kill me for makin’ ya wait. Worth it though, don’t you think?”
“Mmm.” She rolled her head back to meet his eyes. “Quite satisfactory.” Her smile was sloppy-drunk, his Bones most definitely sated. He could watch her looking like that for hours, so open and unguarded, the Bones only he got to see. Watching her meant he caught the moment her eyes focused and her grin shifted to something more predatory.
She leaned in to him conspiratorially, lips just inches from his. Her grin was all teeth.
“I am greatly looking forward to doing that to you.”
“Oh.” He was a dead man, but he couldn’t think of any better way to die. “I uh, wouldn’t complain.”
“Oh, you will.” Her smirk was deadly, but softened when she seemed suddenly aware of their surroundings. “But not here, we really should stop making such a mess of your couch.”
“Eh, it’s what couches are for.” He played with a curl of her hair that brushed against his cheek. “’Sides, you’re the only one who comes over these days.”
She laughed. “Are you complaining?”
“No-ope.” He popped the P for emphasis next to her ear and turned it into a messy kiss on her cheek. She stretched with a yawn, pushing his face away and into the couch cushions.
This was all still new, the two of them like this, but right now, watching a very naked Temperance Brennan stride casually through his apartment, Seeley Booth had no complaints at all.