Outside Eternity
Continued from here
You can't take anything with you
except the love
the love that I have for you...
( Your house looks like it's heaven... )
You can't take anything with you
except the love
the love that I have for you...
( Your house looks like it's heaven... )
And why not?
It wasn't as if Seeley had practically raped the man in doorway of the woman he had loved. He had first loved.
Great timing. Perfect atmosphere.
Seeley bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He turned and walked back to the room where he'd slept. He rummaged through his bag, pulled out jeans and a t-shirt and got dressed. He splashed water over his face, slipped wet fingers through his hair and stuffed the papers he'd found into his back pocket. He strapped on his shoulder harness and his gun and pulled on a long-sleeve shirt. Toed on his boots and walked back down to the kitchen after making his bed and repacking the few clothes that had spilled out of his pack. It wasn't like he was planning on a long stay.
Back down in the kitchen. Another hot cup of coffee and Seeley watched the ocean move under the sun's bright, spring sunshine.
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Pushing past it was what he'd grown used to. And he did, drying and dressing on shaking legs. He slipped the red lanyard into the front pocket of his jeans and tripped quietly down the back stairs.
He rounded the corner to see Booth, leaning over the counter, a mug of coffee in his hands, a million miles away. His shoulders were pulled in tight, accentuating the muscles in his back and the tautness of his bicep and forearm beneath the loose cloth of his shirt.
The sight of him sent Jack's pulse racing, taking the moisture from his mouth and the ability to do anything but linger on the bottom step and stare. Legs trembling, heart racing, exhibiting every sign of nerves wired raw.
Coming alive.
He didn't think about it, didn't stop to analyze it. He just listened to Lucille's voice, the one that held him up, made him strong. The one that set him on his path all those years before.
"There are some chances you must always take."
Jack stepped behind Seeley and ran his palms up the side of his back, over warm muscle that seemed to beat through the fabric of his clothes. Dug his fingers into the solidity of his shoulders and kneaded the muscle there with skilled fingers that stopped shaking the moment they made contact.
"You were right. The shower worked wonders," he said.
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It was easy to not remember the feel of Jack's hands pulling him closer. Palms that fit around his head and the biting kisses that hadn't been one-sided. Not at all.
And by the time Seeley was on his second cup of coffee, he had almost convinced himself that Jack wasn't coming down. That he was upstairs, calling Zach or the police or his family or Brennan or, fuck, the FBI. Probably.
Jack's hand on his back came as a surprise. Palm over shoulder and not even hesitating as he touched the leather strap that held Booth's gun and Jack's voice was quiet and low and real.
And it cut through all the crap that had filled Seeley's mind since the last time they spoke.
Seeley smiled slowly. He turned his head and found the blue that was brighter and deeper than any color Seeley had ever seen before. Anywhere in the world at anytime in his life.
"Hungry?"
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"Starving," Jack admitted, leaning up and closing the space between them. He brushed his mouth over Booth's gently, quickly, despite wanting nothing more than to deepen the kiss and keep kissing Seeley until they collapsed in the middle of the floor. "Absolutely starving," he laughed.
What the hell.
He pressed in for another kiss, soft and easy, as he pulled the Jeep's keys out of his pocket. Pulling away, he dangled them in front of Booth.
"I know a great little hole in the wall that serves breakfast all day. Who's driving? Me, or me?"
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Nope. He never got tired of looming over people. Never failed to amuse himself by taking away 'personal' space.
"As long as whatever you've got here is bigger than that toy you call a car back in D.C.? You can drive all day, Hodgins."
Seeley reached out with both hands and captured Jack's head between his palms. He brushed his thumbs over Jack's lips and felt the moisture there from his own mouth. He leaned down as he let go, his voice a little lower. A little softer.
"Or all night, if that's what you want."
A smile and the air was charged around them. Not a cloud on the horizon, but there was enough electricity snapping oxygen in the kitchen to cause a thunderstorm.
"Lead on, Jack."
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He quick stepped across the wide lawn, through the false warmth of the midday sun, and brought Booth to a garage large enough to be a barn. It took both of them to pull the wide, worn doors apart to reveal the cars within.
An olive green Range Rover, his father's. A silver Mercedes 360L, his mother's. And a 1983 cherry red Jeep Cherokee, his. Seeley was only slightly dissapointed when Jack urged him with a push to the Jeep, looking over his shoulder mournfully at the Rover.
Jack let the laughter come then, and it felt good. It felt right.
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Seeley rolled his eyes, cursed his inability to control his body. 'Course it wasn't as if he'd ever lost that particular problem. Not since the hallway and even the last cup of coffee while he waited for Jack to finish showering and dressing hadn't completely taken the taste of Jack's body out of his mouth, off his tongue.
He slid into the leather seat of the Jeep, pulled the door closed behind him and heard his stomach growl. Loudly.
Great. Booth sighed. In the space of less than twenty-four hours on vacation, he had become a slave to his desires.
He looked over to Jack in the shadowed gloom of the garage. Somehow darker than it should be, considering the bright sun shining outside the wide doors.
"Let's go, Hodgins. If we're gonna go. Because I am starving."
Somehow, Seeley figured that Jack understood exactly what he meant.
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Or maybe he just takes my breath away, Jack thought, staring through the windscreen at the pale white yard obliterated by the mid-morning sun.
He’d caught Booth’s look as he’d slipped into the Cherokee and called to him to hurry up.
Not starving. Ravenous.
His emotions pounded a sinus rhythm that he could feel beneath his skin, regular as his heartbeat, repetitive flashes of can’t should/must can’t warring with the complete surreality of Seeley Booth wanting him.
Wanting him beyond the half-crazed, desperate push of PTSD-fed need.
Wanting him.
The way Jack had wanted him for months.
Demanding him. Taking him.
He'd tried to intellectualize it, stow it beneath cool can't/shouldn't/mustn't rationalizations with every step and breath he took in that house. But there, in the dark, airless garage, sitting behind the wheel of his first car with Booth...
Jack reached over Booth’s knees, popped open the glove compartment and rifled through it, not sure what he was looking for, or why he needed the cover. He slammed the glove box closed and spanned Booth’s solid shelf of a thigh with his fingers.
“You’re ahead of me on coffee and protein,” he smirked, turning his face up to his. “That's not fair.”
Jack caught his eyes and held them as he slid closer on the cracked leather bench seat, closing the distance between them.
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Booth's fingers were curled to keep himself from grabbing Jack's head, pulling him up and devouring his mouth. Cutting his own lips on Jack's smooth, white teeth.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt this intense of a passion. It had to have been ... years. So far in Seeley's past that the memory was coated in dust and yellowed with time and there were no actual faces left. No names. Just the faintest recollection of something more than the everyday desires.
Something to actually live to feel again. For the first time.
Seeley made the fingers of one hand relax enough that he could reach forward, brush the tip of one over Jack's mouth. And not count the inches between those lips and that tongue and Seeley's cock. Not even counting. Not at all. But Booth did widen his smile.
"Life's not ever fair, Jack. We have to make our own set of checks and balances."
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He kissed the low rise of skin that connected Booth’s thumb to his palm, and smiled.
“Balance is overrated,” he said. “Gotta tip the scales every once in awhile.”
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His cock ached. Trapped and bent inside jeans that were normally very comfortable and now felt like some new kind of torture. The best kind.
Each warm, slow lap of Jack's tongue on his finger, each brush of his lips was lightning and heat. Blood thundered past Seeley's eardrums, but it didn't stop the crystal clear clarity of Jack's voice when he spoke.
"You gonna catch me when I fall, Jack?"
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And Booth wasn't pulling away.
Jack sat up and reached to Booth's face with his free hand, and let his eyes fall to his mouth, to the quirk of his smile, to the sadness he could see there.
"Let go and find out," he whispered, and leaned close, taking Booth's breath for his own.
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A kiss and talking.
A kiss and talking in a cramped, tight, becoming fogged with air heated windows Jeep.
Both of them dressed and nothing touching but hands and lips and somehow this was more intimate and real than two hours ago in the small, dim hallway outside the maid's bedroom. This was more real than Seeley holding Jack to the wall and sliding down to his knees.
This was... more than sex.
Although, Seeley thought, a little sex wouldn't be a bad thing. Like right fucking now.
His tongue chased Jack's. He traced each tooth and mapped the roof of Jack's mouth and Booth's hips moved as if ...
"Touch me, Jack ... fuck ... touch me before I die."
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Just kissing made Jack's chest hurt, sending waves of tingling, pleasure-sparked soreness through his belly, to his cock, settling at the base of his spine.
At least that's where Jack felt it settle, having no feeling in his knees whatsoever.
"No dying," he said, dragging his lips across Seeley's cheek to his ear. "None of that."
His fingers traced over the soft fabric of the tee-shirt, over the medal disk set in the hollow of Booth's collarbones, down over his taut, rippled stomach.
The metal of Seeley's antique belt buckle was warm on his fingers, but cooler than the denim stretched over the bulge of muscle beneath it.
"Live," he breathed, pulling Seeley's lower lip between his and biting it gently. Licking it then, and pulling back enough to speak. "Come over the edge with me," he said, pulling Seeley's belt tight, forcing the brass plate from the clip. "C'mon..."
Whatever he wanted to say was lost in a sweet tangle of tongues and Booth's ragged moan as he snapped open the buttons on his fly.
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Seeley's fingers wound around Jack's wrist. Seeley gently moved Jack's hand down. Held it and moved it and sucked in air around Jack's lips when his cock slipped free of the tight confines of his jeans.
"Oh, fuck. Please ... Jack ... please ... I want it ... I want you."
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