(no subject)
Title: On the Record
Author: chash
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Camille Saroyan/Vincent Nigel-Murray
Rating: R
Warnings: Trivia.
Word Count: 750 words.
Summary: They start off getting a drink.
Notes: Trivia from IMDB, Wikipedia, and this page. Non-specific spoilers for "The Bones That Foam."
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
"Do you want to get a drink, Mr. Nigel-Murray?"
Mr. Nigel-Murray blinks at her. "I'm sorry, what?"
"A drink. Something alcoholic. Normally I'm a wine woman, but after this case, I could go for something a little stronger."
"Did you know vodka is made from potatoes?"
"Everyone knows that. Is that a yes?"
He considers. "Yes. Yes it is."
*
An hour later, Mr. Nigel-Murray suspects that Dr. Saroyan has a plan.
"The leg in the promotional image for The Graduate does not actually belong to Anne Bancroft, but to Linda Gray."
Dr. Saroyan takes a drink--gin and tonic. Gin is made from juniper berries, tonic was made to fight malaria. He does not tell her either of these things. He has another point he's trying to make.
"Mr. Nigel-Murray, are you familiar with the concept of getting to the point?"
"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?" he quotes, with a smile. He might slur a little. He's been drinking, after all.
She raises her eyebrows; she's a stunningly attractive woman. Of course he'd noticed. But he's never been the kind of man stunningly attractive women find, well, stunningly attractive. Or even slightly attractive. Possibly because when confronted with them, he becomes even more trivial than usual.
"I don't know," she says, with a smile. "Is it working?"
"Yes," he says. "In fact, we are wasting our money, because you could have done this without the help of alcohol. You are a very attractive woman."
"Well, that's very nice of you to say, Mr. Nigel-Murray." She gets up, putting on her coat. "Are you coming?"
"A pig's orgasm lasts thirty minutes."
"I'm leaving, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
*
"If we're going to be having intercourse," he asks, between kisses, "should I call you Camille?"
"Frankly, Mr. Nigel-Murray, I don't care what you call me," she says, pulling off his tie.
"Women are more likely to talk dirty during sex than men."
"This isn't talking dirty. This is sex. I usually wait until the second date for dirty talking."
He unbuttons her shirt and slips it off. She has truly extraordinary breasts.
"I was just making conversation."
"Now is not the time to make conversation, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
"Facts help me focus."
"You're having trouble focusing?"
"Seventy-five percent of men ejaculate within three minutes of penetration. I would like to be part of the other twenty-five percent. But you are--by far the most attractive woman I have ever had the pleasure of having intercourse with, even theoretical intercourse, so it is harder--both in the sense of 'more difficult' and 'more aroused'--than usual. So I am--babbling. A little."
Dr. Saroyan--Camille--pauses, her hands on his shoulders as she's about to push off his shirt. "That is probably the most roundabout compliment I have ever received. But thank you." She removes his shirt fully, and then begins unclasping her bra.
Bare, her breasts are even more spectacular.
"The most recorded orgasms in an hour for a female is 134."
"Well," she says brightly, "why don't we start with one and go from there."
*
"The first known contraceptive was crocodile dung, used by the Egyptians in 2000 B.C," he says, as he fumbles with the condom.
"You're lucky I don't have an erection, Mr. Nigel-Muarry, because that would have killed it."
*
Once he's inside her, he lasts six minutes, and he does manage to bring her to orgasm, for which he is grateful. Camille does not seem like the kind of woman who would dismiss an intern for failure to sexually satisfy her, but he appreciates it for his own peace of mind. After all, it's very possible he will never have an opportunity like this ever again, and he'd like it to go as well as possible.
"What's the record for male orgasms in an hour?" she asks him.
"Sixteen," he says instantly.
"Well, I think both of those are a little much to hope for, but let's see how we can do."
He blinks. "Oh. Yes. Let's see how it goes."
*
"Besides the genitals and the breasts, the inner nose is the only other body part that routinely swells during intercourse."
"Go to sleep, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
"You could call me Vincent."
"I was thinking Vino Delectable. Now that I've tested its accuracy."
"I would prefer not."
"Go to sleep," she says again.
In India and Pakistan, the phrase synonymous to counting sheep is counting the stars. He doesn't tell her this tonight.
He can tell her later.
Author: chash
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Camille Saroyan/Vincent Nigel-Murray
Rating: R
Warnings: Trivia.
Word Count: 750 words.
Summary: They start off getting a drink.
Notes: Trivia from IMDB, Wikipedia, and this page. Non-specific spoilers for "The Bones That Foam."
Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue.
"Do you want to get a drink, Mr. Nigel-Murray?"
Mr. Nigel-Murray blinks at her. "I'm sorry, what?"
"A drink. Something alcoholic. Normally I'm a wine woman, but after this case, I could go for something a little stronger."
"Did you know vodka is made from potatoes?"
"Everyone knows that. Is that a yes?"
He considers. "Yes. Yes it is."
*
An hour later, Mr. Nigel-Murray suspects that Dr. Saroyan has a plan.
"The leg in the promotional image for The Graduate does not actually belong to Anne Bancroft, but to Linda Gray."
Dr. Saroyan takes a drink--gin and tonic. Gin is made from juniper berries, tonic was made to fight malaria. He does not tell her either of these things. He has another point he's trying to make.
"Mr. Nigel-Murray, are you familiar with the concept of getting to the point?"
"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?" he quotes, with a smile. He might slur a little. He's been drinking, after all.
She raises her eyebrows; she's a stunningly attractive woman. Of course he'd noticed. But he's never been the kind of man stunningly attractive women find, well, stunningly attractive. Or even slightly attractive. Possibly because when confronted with them, he becomes even more trivial than usual.
"I don't know," she says, with a smile. "Is it working?"
"Yes," he says. "In fact, we are wasting our money, because you could have done this without the help of alcohol. You are a very attractive woman."
"Well, that's very nice of you to say, Mr. Nigel-Murray." She gets up, putting on her coat. "Are you coming?"
"A pig's orgasm lasts thirty minutes."
"I'm leaving, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
*
"If we're going to be having intercourse," he asks, between kisses, "should I call you Camille?"
"Frankly, Mr. Nigel-Murray, I don't care what you call me," she says, pulling off his tie.
"Women are more likely to talk dirty during sex than men."
"This isn't talking dirty. This is sex. I usually wait until the second date for dirty talking."
He unbuttons her shirt and slips it off. She has truly extraordinary breasts.
"I was just making conversation."
"Now is not the time to make conversation, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
"Facts help me focus."
"You're having trouble focusing?"
"Seventy-five percent of men ejaculate within three minutes of penetration. I would like to be part of the other twenty-five percent. But you are--by far the most attractive woman I have ever had the pleasure of having intercourse with, even theoretical intercourse, so it is harder--both in the sense of 'more difficult' and 'more aroused'--than usual. So I am--babbling. A little."
Dr. Saroyan--Camille--pauses, her hands on his shoulders as she's about to push off his shirt. "That is probably the most roundabout compliment I have ever received. But thank you." She removes his shirt fully, and then begins unclasping her bra.
Bare, her breasts are even more spectacular.
"The most recorded orgasms in an hour for a female is 134."
"Well," she says brightly, "why don't we start with one and go from there."
*
"The first known contraceptive was crocodile dung, used by the Egyptians in 2000 B.C," he says, as he fumbles with the condom.
"You're lucky I don't have an erection, Mr. Nigel-Muarry, because that would have killed it."
*
Once he's inside her, he lasts six minutes, and he does manage to bring her to orgasm, for which he is grateful. Camille does not seem like the kind of woman who would dismiss an intern for failure to sexually satisfy her, but he appreciates it for his own peace of mind. After all, it's very possible he will never have an opportunity like this ever again, and he'd like it to go as well as possible.
"What's the record for male orgasms in an hour?" she asks him.
"Sixteen," he says instantly.
"Well, I think both of those are a little much to hope for, but let's see how we can do."
He blinks. "Oh. Yes. Let's see how it goes."
*
"Besides the genitals and the breasts, the inner nose is the only other body part that routinely swells during intercourse."
"Go to sleep, Mr. Nigel-Murray."
"You could call me Vincent."
"I was thinking Vino Delectable. Now that I've tested its accuracy."
"I would prefer not."
"Go to sleep," she says again.
In India and Pakistan, the phrase synonymous to counting sheep is counting the stars. He doesn't tell her this tonight.
He can tell her later.