Bones fanfiction: The Breath That We Share
Title: The Breath That We Share
Author: lizook12
Pairing: Temperance Brennan/Seeley Booth
Rating: M
Spoilers: None
A/N: Title from Sara Bareilles' One Sweet Love, which contains the lyrics (you take more than just my sanity/you take my reason not to care) that put the original idea for this fic in my head. Major thanks to cupcakebean for being an awesome beta and sweetjamielee for challenging me to dip my toe into the ocean ;)
Summary: When had she started letting herself throw logic to the wind and just get caught up in the moment?
Read:
She rolled the Isle of Pines paint onto the wall and sat back on her heels, surveying. The rich color played nicely against the entertainment system without overpowering the rest of the room.
“That’s much better.” He painted a large W over the celadon they had applied almost two weeks before. “What were we thinking?”
“You said,” she pointed her roller at him, “‘it’ll be fine, Bones. The couch and curtains will tone down the yellow hue.’”
“I did not say hue!”
“It was implied.” She leaned forward, dipping the roller in the paint again.
“Fine, but you’re not blaming this on me. You were the one who wanted something ‘aesthetically unanticipated’.”
He had her there. Still... “You didn’t have to agree to my suggestion.”
“Come on, Bones, you know me better than that.” He nudged her shoulder, covering more of the hideous yellow green. “Can I ever say no to you?”
“There have been occasions -” She trailed off as paint went flying off his roller and landed on her forearm. “Booth, watch out. You’re going to make a mess.”
“One drop of paint on your arm does not constitute a mess.” He bent over, picking up the paintbrush resting in the tray. “Now this -” He flicked the brush so it sent paint flying, covering the side of her face, “is a mess.”
“Oh, you’ve done it now.” She dropped her roller and picked up the other brush, flinging paint towards him. It landed on his nose making him look as though he’d applied zinc oxide on his way to the beach.
Before she realized what was happening, they were in a full out war. Paint sailed back and forth covering the wall (Jackson Pollock would be proud), the drop cloth, and, most importantly, them. Laughter filled room, though you had to be careful or you’d end up swallowing the ammunition, as each tried to cover the other with as much paint as possible.
Sometime after her hand had landed in the tray of paint for the third time, she was struck by how crazy this was. When had she started letting herself throw logic to the wind and just get caught up in the moment? The answer came back almost immediately: when she’d met him. Somewhere along the way he’d shown her - proved to her - that her reason to disconnect was invalid.
She stilled, watching as he paused to dip his brush in the paint once more. Her heart caught in her chest and she launched herself at him, crushing her mouth to his before he could fully realize what was happening.
He didn’t take long to respond, his mouth pressing hotly against hers, hands settling on her hips. She was vaguely aware of the ‘thud’ his paintbrush made as it fell to the floor, but couldn’t find the will to care about whether the paint would seep through the drop cloth and onto the hard wood floor beneath. All that mattered was this.
He lowered her to the floor, hand cradling her head as his mouth seared kisses down the column of her neck. She felt the familiar warmth pooling in her belly and moaned as his hands finally tugged at the bottom of her worn Jeffersonian tee.
“Bones...” His voice was low, husky in her ear. If possible, it set her on fire even more. She forced herself to pull away long enough to push his shirt over his head, her hands mapping his chest once she had.
“Mmmm.” She meant it to sound more questioning, but found it came out as a mere moan as one of his hands cupped her breast, teasing, as the other fumbled with the button of her fly. “Booth....taking....too long....” She swatted his hand away, quickly sliding out of her pants as he chuckled and nipped at her earlobe.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He kicked off his jeans, decided to chuck the boxers while he was at it, and let his weight crash down on her.
“Don’t let it happen again.” She gasped, his erection pressing against her thigh, and pulled him in for another searing kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, warring with hers, before he broke away to lavish her breasts and toned stomach. Each time his mouth met her skin the heat inside her intensified, strengthened. She needed more; she needed him. “Booth, please.”
He groaned, eyes darkened, as her hands found his ass, pressing him to her. She didn’t have to ask twice, he took a deep breath and slid into her warmth.
He paused, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, mouth opening in a silent moan, before beginning to move. Her hands gripped his sides, urging him to her as she arched up to meet his every stroke.
Their rhythm, slow and languid at first, quickly increased and she began making those little mewling sounds in the back of her throat that almost always pushed him over the edge. Their hips connected time and again until he thrust into her particularly deep and --
“Oh, God, Booth, gonna...” He felt her breath quicken, her walls tighten around him, and then she was screaming his name, nails digging into his shoulders, as she shook beneath him. Her foot kicked the forgotten tray of paint, splashing the backs of his legs as the aftershocks of her climax pulled his from him.
He collapsed next to her, arms and legs still buzzing, and pulled her into his chest, noting the spots of green paint dabbed across the swell of her breasts where his nose had come in contact with her skin.
“Bones...” His chest rumbled against her and, shakily, she propped herself on her elbow to look at him. The green hand print she’d left near his heart almost causing her to collapse against him again.
“Yeah?”
“I think a shower is in order.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing at some paint resting there.
“That sounds like a satisfactory course of action.” Her legs tangled with his as she brushed her lips across his before standing and extending her hand to him. “Let’s go.”
Author: lizook12
Pairing: Temperance Brennan/Seeley Booth
Rating: M
Spoilers: None
A/N: Title from Sara Bareilles' One Sweet Love, which contains the lyrics (you take more than just my sanity/you take my reason not to care) that put the original idea for this fic in my head. Major thanks to cupcakebean for being an awesome beta and sweetjamielee for challenging me to dip my toe into the ocean ;)
Summary: When had she started letting herself throw logic to the wind and just get caught up in the moment?
Read:
She rolled the Isle of Pines paint onto the wall and sat back on her heels, surveying. The rich color played nicely against the entertainment system without overpowering the rest of the room.
“That’s much better.” He painted a large W over the celadon they had applied almost two weeks before. “What were we thinking?”
“You said,” she pointed her roller at him, “‘it’ll be fine, Bones. The couch and curtains will tone down the yellow hue.’”
“I did not say hue!”
“It was implied.” She leaned forward, dipping the roller in the paint again.
“Fine, but you’re not blaming this on me. You were the one who wanted something ‘aesthetically unanticipated’.”
He had her there. Still... “You didn’t have to agree to my suggestion.”
“Come on, Bones, you know me better than that.” He nudged her shoulder, covering more of the hideous yellow green. “Can I ever say no to you?”
“There have been occasions -” She trailed off as paint went flying off his roller and landed on her forearm. “Booth, watch out. You’re going to make a mess.”
“One drop of paint on your arm does not constitute a mess.” He bent over, picking up the paintbrush resting in the tray. “Now this -” He flicked the brush so it sent paint flying, covering the side of her face, “is a mess.”
“Oh, you’ve done it now.” She dropped her roller and picked up the other brush, flinging paint towards him. It landed on his nose making him look as though he’d applied zinc oxide on his way to the beach.
Before she realized what was happening, they were in a full out war. Paint sailed back and forth covering the wall (Jackson Pollock would be proud), the drop cloth, and, most importantly, them. Laughter filled room, though you had to be careful or you’d end up swallowing the ammunition, as each tried to cover the other with as much paint as possible.
Sometime after her hand had landed in the tray of paint for the third time, she was struck by how crazy this was. When had she started letting herself throw logic to the wind and just get caught up in the moment? The answer came back almost immediately: when she’d met him. Somewhere along the way he’d shown her - proved to her - that her reason to disconnect was invalid.
She stilled, watching as he paused to dip his brush in the paint once more. Her heart caught in her chest and she launched herself at him, crushing her mouth to his before he could fully realize what was happening.
He didn’t take long to respond, his mouth pressing hotly against hers, hands settling on her hips. She was vaguely aware of the ‘thud’ his paintbrush made as it fell to the floor, but couldn’t find the will to care about whether the paint would seep through the drop cloth and onto the hard wood floor beneath. All that mattered was this.
He lowered her to the floor, hand cradling her head as his mouth seared kisses down the column of her neck. She felt the familiar warmth pooling in her belly and moaned as his hands finally tugged at the bottom of her worn Jeffersonian tee.
“Bones...” His voice was low, husky in her ear. If possible, it set her on fire even more. She forced herself to pull away long enough to push his shirt over his head, her hands mapping his chest once she had.
“Mmmm.” She meant it to sound more questioning, but found it came out as a mere moan as one of his hands cupped her breast, teasing, as the other fumbled with the button of her fly. “Booth....taking....too long....” She swatted his hand away, quickly sliding out of her pants as he chuckled and nipped at her earlobe.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He kicked off his jeans, decided to chuck the boxers while he was at it, and let his weight crash down on her.
“Don’t let it happen again.” She gasped, his erection pressing against her thigh, and pulled him in for another searing kiss. His tongue swept into her mouth, warring with hers, before he broke away to lavish her breasts and toned stomach. Each time his mouth met her skin the heat inside her intensified, strengthened. She needed more; she needed him. “Booth, please.”
He groaned, eyes darkened, as her hands found his ass, pressing him to her. She didn’t have to ask twice, he took a deep breath and slid into her warmth.
He paused, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, mouth opening in a silent moan, before beginning to move. Her hands gripped his sides, urging him to her as she arched up to meet his every stroke.
Their rhythm, slow and languid at first, quickly increased and she began making those little mewling sounds in the back of her throat that almost always pushed him over the edge. Their hips connected time and again until he thrust into her particularly deep and --
“Oh, God, Booth, gonna...” He felt her breath quicken, her walls tighten around him, and then she was screaming his name, nails digging into his shoulders, as she shook beneath him. Her foot kicked the forgotten tray of paint, splashing the backs of his legs as the aftershocks of her climax pulled his from him.
He collapsed next to her, arms and legs still buzzing, and pulled her into his chest, noting the spots of green paint dabbed across the swell of her breasts where his nose had come in contact with her skin.
“Bones...” His chest rumbled against her and, shakily, she propped herself on her elbow to look at him. The green hand print she’d left near his heart almost causing her to collapse against him again.
“Yeah?”
“I think a shower is in order.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing at some paint resting there.
“That sounds like a satisfactory course of action.” Her legs tangled with his as she brushed her lips across his before standing and extending her hand to him. “Let’s go.”